A/N: Takes place after 14x10 "Nihilism". And I'm not gonna lie, that shot of Dean's back when he was looking in the mirror helped inspire this. He has a nice shape to his back, my dudes.
It took awhile for Dean to realize that Castiel was knocking on his door. The constant banging in his head made more than enough noise. Dean looked at himself in the mirror, met his gaze, saw his strength waver for a bit, the knocking growing louder, and then he steeled himself. There was a wall in his eyes, a cage, and Michael was behind it. Taking in a deep breath, he went and answered the door.
Though they'd already talked since he'd had control of his body back, there was still a surge of relief in Castiel's wondrous eyes when he gazed upon Dean. He wrapped him up in a hug, one that Dean soon returned. And then Castiel was pushing him back, lips meeting his. The angel kicked the door closed.
Dean wanted to do this. He really did, but all he could think about was that book that Billie had given him. That awful book that sealed all their fates. The one outcome where Michael lost.
Dean almost had to laugh at it. He was a bit behind on all his movies, but he'd heard enough about Infinity War from Sam to know it had a similar storyline. Only one situation where they came out on top. It made Dean kind of feel like a superhero. A superhero with a really shitty life and a boyfriend who he was now pulling away from because he was overwhelmed with emotion.
Castiel caressed his face, and then his hand went into his hair.
"I can make him quieter," Castiel told him.
Dean shook his head, before lowering it. "No. This is my responsibility. I said yes to him in the first place."
"And he broke your deal. He used you, Dean. You don't have to suffer any more for it."
Dean lifted up his head, looking at him, tears in his eyes. "He hurt people, Cas. A lot of people. And it's on me."
"It's not."
He pushed him away and went over to the sink, resting his hands on it, meeting his reflection.
Michael experimenting on people, torturing them, killing him. It was his fault.
The victims of the monsters he'd created… His fault.
Sam and Castiel getting hurt. His fault.
For a moment he wished to tell him about the book, but he couldn't do it, couldn't give Castiel that burden to bear.
It was his. All of this was his.
Dean turned to him now.
"You know what Michael said, it's not true," he began. "None of it. You're… You're not just my responsibility, Cas. You're my friend, my family."
"Dean, I know."
"No, I still want to say it. I have to… Have to make it right, you know?"
Castiel smiled at him, a sad, hopeful smile, and he took ahold of Dean's hands.
"You're not a burden," he told him.
As a response, Castiel nuzzled his neck, placing a kiss just near his adam's apple. That elicited a soft growl from Dean, and his angel's hands were working on getting his shirt off. They separated so they could fully take the article of clothing off, and Dean hissed in a breath as Castiel ran his large hands up and down Dean's torso.
"I'm glad this is all you," Castiel told him. "It was so hard having to look at him and know it wasn't you." He kissed him gently, then went on, "I'm so used to your eyes being on my lips when we talk. Michael never did that."
"Good," Dean growled, hands going under Castiel's coat and down and around to grip his ass, pulling him up against him. "You're all mine."
The banging in his head grew louder, and it was joined by a terrifying roar. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, found himself turning away from Castiel, holding onto the sink to keep himself up. His boyfriend's hands ran over his back.
"It's okay, Dean. You have him. You can do this." A kiss was placed in between his shoulder blades, making him let out a pleased hum. "But perhaps I shouldn't distract you."
"God, Cas, I want you to distract me. It's all him in there. I need someone else. I need you."
His angel positioned himself behind him, and Dean's mouth dropped open when he felt his hardness against him. Hands trailed up his arms, touch light and soothing, and he pressed himself back against Castiel. Fuck, he needed him.
"Michael knows about us," Dean breathed, heart hammering away in his chest as Castiel's hands left him and he heard him undressing.
"Of course he did," his angel told him. "But it's okay now. He can't see us."
"Cas, he used me."
His angel was against him once more, bare from the waist up, skin so hot against his.
"Shh, Dean. I know."
He could see them in the mirror, saw Castiel as he lavished him with affection, hands and mouth on his body, saw himself enjoying it, even as he fought with the archangel inside.
"All you," Dean murmured. "It's all you."
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply when Castiel slowly pulled his pants down, fingers brushing over his skin with purpose. His angel positioned his hips so his back arched more, making Dean more vulnerable to him. Castiel didn't touch him where he most wanted it yet. He just stood, hands running up and over his thighs.
His mouth was on his ear, wet and warm and attentive. Dean turned to him, reaching out to bring a hand to his soft hair. Their tongues were out to meet each other, to taste, and Dean moaned when he got his tongue in the angel's perfect mouth. There was a hand on his ass now, kneading, thumb teasingly close to Dean's rim. Dean let go of the sink, quit bracing himself, and let Castiel bend him over against it, face so close to the mirror. He reached a hand into Castiel's pants, hungrily stroking over his cock that he wanted so dearly. His angel groaned, before giving Dean the same treatment, pumping him in his large hand.
He faced forward to moan, and Castiel was licking his neck, sending shivers through him. Dean worked harder at his cock, wanting him as hard as possible, wanting him to ache with how much he wanted him. Dean needed it rough if he was going to drown out the banging in his head.
"Dean," Castiel breathed, "you don't have to do anything. Let me take care of you."
He took hold of Dean's wrist, making him grip the sink again, and trailed his fingers against his skin, up his body, gripping Dean's jaw as he slowly rutted against him.
"Mm… Cas."
"I got you, Dean. I got you."
His angel's fingers were in his mouth now, and Dean opened his eyes as he sucked, meeting Castiel's heavy gaze in the mirror. He moaned from the way he looked back at him, looked at him like he could see everything he was made up of, and he did so with Dean's permission. He gazed deep into him, deeper than Michael, and Dean was left shuddering from it.
"Good," Castiel coaxed.
His hand was on his hip now, and the one with his wet fingers was against his rim, making the muscle throb in excitement.
Dean lifted himself up, arching himself back and against Castiel, grinding himself down against his fingers. Then they were inside of him, and he gasped, mouth dropping open, eyes squeezing shut. This was a sensation he could never tire of, especially when Castiel used the hand on his hip to heal him as he plunged his fingers deeper, deeper. He bent them, and Dean groaned, as liquid pleasure shot through his body into his cock, which was now leaking precum.
"Fuck, Cas," he got out, hoping his boyfriend knew he'd found that wonderful spot inside of him.
Dean felt deep, deep pressure in him, in his core, in between his legs, a fullness, an aching infused with fiery bliss, almost like he was going to cum, and Castiel kept that feeling going, fingers working inside of him.
"Yes, yes, yes…" he panted, leaning down into his hand, needing more.
The banging in his head seemed to be growing quieter, being drowned out in Dean's needy haze.
Feeling odd being the sole center of attention, Dean reached back, doing his best to tug Castiel's pants down. He brought his hand forward to spit into it a few times, and then he was feeling over Castiel, marveling at the part of him that was going to be in him soon. He twitched in his grip, and Dean grinned.
"Mm, you really want me," Dean noted.
"I've been yearning for you all day," Castiel responded. "I couldn't wait to have you back. I need you."
I need you. The phrase they both told each other, the phrase that really meant I love you. They were both too afraid to say it, especially when they could so easily lose each other, so that's what it was: I need you.
More spit joined Dean's hand on Castiel's cock, and then spit was dripping down on Dean. If they went slowly enough it shouldn't hurt, but Dean didn't want slow. Being trapped in his head had been slow, peaceful. He'd been content.
Dean had had enough of it.
He needed hard and rough, needed just a bite of pain to know that he was still him, that this was his shitty life that he was living, and Castiel was living it with him.
Castiel then shoved his hand off of him, and Dean took his cue, gripping the edges of the sink. It was slow going having Castiel enter him, strong hands on his hips to keep him steady. It was pleasurable to the point of agonizing as he was filled up with his angel. Dean felt full beyond belief, stretched and wonderfully sore as he was impaled with inch after inch. His boyfriend had never been one to brag about his size, but he didn't need to when he left Dean feeling him for days afterwards. It was impossible to ignore him when he was in him like this, impossible to think of anything else, even with Michael screaming and banging away.
Cas was in him, and it was perfect.
Dean growled as pleasure twined up through his cock, and even up through his stomach, spiking through him before melting into a sensuous pool of heat. It took root in him, desire trickling into his blood.
His angel was right up against him now, fully in him, breathing hard, voice gruff and infused with want, with the need for Dean. Dean shuddered being on the other end of that, knowing he was in for a lot.
Castiel sucked a mark into his shoulder, hips pressing against him, trying to bury deeper, to claim territory that Michael could scarcely dream of.
"How do you want me?" Castiel asked, voice rough and predatory in his ear.
"Hard," Dean answered, barely able to get the word out, arousal stealing his ability to function properly. The part of him that wasn't focused on holding Michael back was all focused on the body against his, the warm skin, the curves, the softness, the hardness, and the cock that was deep inside him. "Real hard. If I'm not holding back a scream you're doing it wrong."
Castiel kissed his shoulder, hands traveling over his body like claws, desperate for him.
"You'd better not scream," he told him. "I'm sure you don't want to have to give Jack the talk just yet."
Fuck. He'd totally forgotten that he was supposed to do that.
But, oh god, it didn't matter now because Castiel was pulling out of him, and then slowly easing himself back in as one of his hands toyed with his left nipple.
"Harder," he whined.
"Hush, I'm starting out slow so I don't hurt you."
"Hurt me."
"What?"
"Come on, Cas. My life is full of pain. I want it, and I want it on my terms."
Still, he went at him slowly for now, though he was gaining in speed. Eventually Castiel lowered himself to the floor, lying on his back, and before he could continue moving, Dean was already doing it for him, ramming himself down on Castiel's cock, letting pleasure get beaten into him. His angel was holding his hips, and then he was moving them, making Dean ride him harder and faster, so hard that he was hurting from it. But it was the good kind of hurt, the hurt that spoke of love, the hurt that had him tilting his head back and moaning.
The notebook didn't matter, the cage in his mind didn't matter, the absolute shit show that was his life didn't matter because he was on Castiel, and Castiel was giving him everything he wanted in that moment.
Castiel wrestled the rest of their clothing off, and then he rolled, taking Dean with him, and Dean ended up pressed against the cold stone floor, his boyfriend pummeling him with everything he had. He liked the ache of being pressed against the floor, liked the soreness that it spread through his body. This was real, this was his life, harsh, and cold, and painful. And Castiel was in his life. He was the bliss that was radiating throughout his body, he was the solid comfort against him, the warmth, the hope, the life, the little bit of sunshine that he needed to keep fighting even when he felt darkness closing in around him.
Eventually, Cas pulled out of him, and Dean rolled over onto his back, breathing hard, sweat coating his skin, his cheeks flushed. Castiel lowered himself to him in a second, lips on his face, before finding his own, arm wrapping around his head, protecting him. Dean kissed back in earnest, opening his mouth wide, letting him into him with a delighted moan.
A strong hand was in between his legs, feeling his body, bringing pleasure to it after so long with nothing but guilt and loneliness. Then Dean was lifting his legs up, putting them around his angel, pulling him closer, closer, till he was in him again, bringing truth to the fact that he was himself once more.
Himself. Himself with Castiel, feeling him, so hot and throbbing and wanting. So perfect.
Castiel was grunting and growling as he took him, and Dean was moaning. But he needed his lips, needed those beautiful, pink lips against his own. He ate up the sounds that left his throat, and Castiel ate up his, till they were one and the same, melding together.
His angel took up his entire body, pounding and pounding, slamming till he was sure his ass and thighs would have bruises from his hips, till he knew for sure the inside of him was all marked up.
Castiel pulled back, tugging on Dean's hair as he looked down at him. He was going slowly now, but deep, making gravelly sounds that were almost whines leave Dean's mouth.
"How's that for hard?" he asked.
"G-good, Cas. So good. Fuck."
Now he did whine, and Castiel rolled his hips against him, nearly purring with contentment.
"Were you thinking about this ass?" Dean asked breathlessly. "The whole time I was Michael? Were you thinking about how much you missed me, and how you were gonna fuck me into the ground after?"
Dean saw much more than that in Castiel's eyes, much more than the lust and sense of ownership he was addressing. For a second he thought Castiel was going to go along with it, was going to dirty talk, but really, he'd never gotten the hang of it, so he wasn't surprised when Castiel plunged into him, balls right up against him, and kissed his brow.
"Dean, you know I wanted all of you for you."
His already reddened face flushed even more and he smiled.
"Cas, you know what I mean."
"Fine," he got out. "Then I wanted your ass."
Dean chuckled, and tilted his mouth up towards his. "Now you just ruined the moment."
Castiel grinned at him, and it was a wonderful expression that he didn't see often. "Did I?"
"Oh yeah, totally ruined it."
To prove his point he unwrapped his legs from Cas and used them to maneuver him out of him and away.
"Out, out. You lost your privileges."
Dean was up and on his feet now, though his legs were wobbly, and he made it a few feet before Castiel grabbed him from behind and forced him down onto the bed.
"I'd like my privileges back," he snarled.
Without further debate he was in Dean again, each inch of his cock plunging into his eager body, and Dean struggled against him, trying to keep up the game. That ended with Castiel spreading Dean's legs, making him much more exposed, and with Castiel having an arm wrapped around his neck, holding him to him as his hips snapped back and forth. The bed was shaking, their skin slapping together, and one of Dean's books fell.
They paused to laugh at it, and Castiel got out of Dean, and reached to pick it up for him. Dean made his escape then, slipping out from under him. He laughed when Castiel got him, slamming him against the couch, having him almost bang into the wall. They fell, back onto that hard, unforgiving floor, but now Castiel had his limbs wrapped firmly around him, hanging onto his prize.
And this was Dean's prize.
This was what he got for locking up Michael. This was what he got for fighting against the contentment he'd been buried in. He got Castiel's skin flush against his, body moving furiously to please him, ecstasy stabbing into his very being, pain chasing after it.
Oh yes, the pain. That sweet, sweet pain. The pain of his life. The pain of being Castiel's lover. Dean wouldn't trade it for the world.
He was getting closer, could feel pressure coiling in between his legs and in his gut, skin so sensitive that he shivered from every brush of Castiel's fingers against him. God, those beautiful fingers. He managed to wrench himself away from his angel, though he knew it was only because he was allowed; if Castiel really wanted to, he could fuck Dean without any of this play fighting. He was strong enough to keep him subdued.
He twisted so that he was out from under Castiel and was sitting up now. Castiel growled at him, leaning forward, and Dean met him, climbing on top of him. He grabbed Castiel, positioning him in him again, and then he was riding him, lips right near his, telling him how good he felt inside of him.
He was absolutely aching, full of Castiel, full of want, full of the need for release. The pressure deep in him hurt, was activating a very primal part of Dean's mind, a part that told him to keep going, keep going, almost there! His angel started rocking his hips up into him, and they were all wrapped up in each other, Dean holding onto Castiel as tightly as he could. He could feel that a scream wanted to tear its way from his throat, so Dean started desperately kissing Cas, crying out into his mouth. His angel was tilting his head back, tongue nearly reaching his throat.
One more thrust and Castiel had a hand around his neck now, blocking his airways, to stop the scream that threatened to come out of him, lips so close to his, murmuring his name. Dean ground himself down against him, feeling himself tighten around him, feeling sensation push from in between his legs, pleasure jolting through him. It ebbed and flowed, in bursts - bright, wonderful bursts of white. Then each touch began to hurt, each millimeter of skin that touched Castiel's was alight with pain, and he wanted to scream even more. It was a pain that he reveled in, a pain that let him know he was with Cas. It was pleasure so acute that it seared, and ached.
Cas got Dean on his back and continued driving into him, mouth swallowing up his voice, and then he was finishing in him, throbbing and pulsing, and Dean felt as if he was going to lose his mind if it lasted one second longer.
His angel pulled out of him, holding himself above him, and they were both breathing heavily, Dean covered in sweat, face, neck, and chest all red. To tease him, Castiel leaned down and took one of his nipples in his mouth. Dean growled, whacking his head lightly.
"Stop that. I've oversensitized."
"That's why I'm doing it," Castiel murmured. "You told me you wanted pain."
Fuck, those were definitely teeth he felt against his nipple, and yep, now they were biting. Dean whimpered, arching up into him, and then Castiel was kissing a trail down his torso, hands beneath him, holding him up to him.
As he began to lick him Dean said, "You know, you could just use your angel mojo to clean us up."
"But I like to taste you," Cas reasoned.
He groaned from feeling his hot tongue against his skin, but otherwise didn't argue with him.
The banging in his head was growing louder again, so Dean held onto Cas as he tasted him, held onto him with all he had. In the throes of sensation he tilted his head to the left, the book that had fallen on the floor in his line of vision.
It was the book Billie had given him.
Dean's mood plummeted, but he said nothing to Castiel, just ran his hands through his hair, as if trying to tell himself that everything would be alright.
But it wouldn't be alright. Dean glanced up at the ceiling, blinking away tears, as Michael battered away at his head. This was his life.