He can't sleep now.

It's been three days since he last saw Cas and that was brief. They'd been hunting a ghost just outside of Atlanta and the Angel had dropped in just in time to save Dean's ass from being shish kabobed by a steel pipe. He'd barely had time to set fire to the talisman that had the ghost's hair in it before Cas was gone again.

Three days before that, was the conversation about The Incident. Which means it's been fourteen days since Dean has come. Fourteen days. That's two weeks. That's three hundred and thirty six hours, which is twenty thousand one hundred and sixty minutes. And Dean knows that because he can't sleep and when he can't sleep he's on Sammy's computer looking up anything he can to distract himself.

Because now …he's hard all the time. He's achy and needy and fuck he wants to come so badly he's even willing to entertain the idea of having sex with Cas again even though it was so very wrong. It felt so very good but it was so very wrong.

What? He's got scruples.

"Dean!" Sam shouts next to him in the front seat of the Impala, breaking Dean out of his thoughts.

"Yeah?" Dean asks, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Keeping still is a fleeting idea now; all Dean does is drink coffee and drive. And if he can't do either, or both, he's on Sammy's computer.

So this is Dean's life now. Coffee, driving, and research.

"Dean …seriously. Calm down a little."

Dean shoots a look at his little brother and then back at the road in front of him. Back and forth, back and forth. "Can't be calm Sammy m'boy!" He shouts and Sam flinches.

"Dude …no more coffee for you."

At that the eldest Winchester looks down at the empty cup between his legs. "Need more coffee."

"Dean no. No more coffee."

"I'm out which means I need more."

Sam gives him bitch face number twelve which translates into 'what the fuck?' "Seriously Dean. You've been like this for days. What the fuck is your issue?"

Dean is back to jittering around in his seat like he's a fuckin' junkie and had he had any sleep at all over the past thirty two hours he's sure he wouldn't tell Sam the truth but as it stands …

"Can't sleep Sammy. I can't sleep cause I can't get off."

"Dude!"

"Not once. Not for two weeks."

Sam waves his hands in front of himself like he's trying to erase the conversation from the very air. "Dean! Shut up!"

"Just sayin' Sammy. You asked, so I told. That's how this works. You ask a question and I give a answer! I give a answer if you got a question!"

Sam is just watching him talk, mouth open. "Alright, not that I actually want to know but what the hell are you talking about you can't come? Not six days ago you were with like eight different girls."

Dean shakes his head rapidly. "Nope. Was six and that," He points in the air. "Does not work anymore."

"It doesn't work anymore?"

"Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope." Dean's leg is shaking and his hands are flying across the wheel. "Cas broke it. Or I broke it." He freezes suddenly. "Holy shit!" Dean slams on the brakes, sending Sam head first into the dashboard.

"Dean what the fuck?" Sam all but screams, rubbing his forehead and thank God they're on an empty road because they'd be dead otherwise or they would have killed someone else.

This doesn't seem to faze the older Hunter at all. "This is punishment!"

Back to bitch face numero twelve. "What?"

"Punishment for defiling an Angel."

Sam stops rubbing his forehead and swings his gaze to his older brother. "Please, do not tell me you and Cas had sex." Dean opens his mouth but before he can get anything out Sam is talking again. "Dean! Do not tell me you fucked an Angel of the Lord."

"I didn't." Dean tells him, shaking his head and Sam lets out a sigh of what sounds like relief. "He fucked me."

"What the fuck Dean?!"

Dean's hands leave the wheel to fly up in the air. "I know! Never thought I'd be a bottom but there it is." He ignores the fact that his little brother has his hands over his ears and is now singing 'Take me out to the Ball Game' as loud as he can. "But now …now I can't come any more and it's punishment because I defiled an Angel."

Dean stops talking and Sam peers over, taking his hands down. "Well he defiled me."

"Dammit Dean!"

"Sammy it's not even blue balls anymore …it's like purple balls." But Sam isn't listening, he's just flat out yelling the word 'baseball' now. How rude.

Forty minutes later they're in another crappy motel room, in another crappy town Dean can't remember the name of, which is okay considering he didn't even want to stop driving but Sam had insisted.

Bitch.

He feels a pillow slam into his head when he's on his forty-fifth trek around the room. "Dean. If you can't stay the fuck still then leave. 'm trying to sleep."

"Yeah. I'll leave …sounds good. Saw a bar down there. Bars good. I'll drink. Get drunk enough …I'll sleep."

"Great! Leave."

Dean nods and pulls on his leather jacket. "Seeya Sammy." He doesn't catch his brother's response but swears he hears something crash against the door when it closes behind him.

Before he even gets the chance to sit down the bartender is telling him to leave.

"Don't serve junkies here. Get out."

"I'm not a junkie." Dean protests but even as keyed up as he is he can see how bad he looks; eyes blood shot, face flushed, clothes rumpled. He sure as hell looks like he's jonesing for a hit; too bad the hit he needs he just can't get. The bartender looks at him again and points to the door and Dean just sighs, shaking his head. "This is bullshit."

"Don't care. Get out …or Tiny here will help you out the door."

Dean smirks and waggles a finger at the bartender. "I'll just bet Tiny is anything but tiny."

"You'd be right." He hears a voice behind him and turns almost smacking into a brick wall of a chest.

"Fuck you're tall." Dean comments and backs away quickly. A fight. A fight might be good, could help him unwind. "Don't you think it's a little cliché to call yourself Tiny? Haven't you ever watched TV? All the big scary guys are always named Tiny." The big man reaches out and grabs Dean's arm but the Hunter breaks away easily.

Tiny throws the first punch after spending the next minute and a half chasing Dean around the bar, pain explodes in Dean's stomach but he barely registers it. He rolls his body away from the next hit and strikes out to land a blow on Tiny's nose, smiling when he feels the cartilage give way with satisfying crunch.

That's the only hit he gets though because Tiny is on top of him just wailin' on his ass. Distantly he hears a voice that's familiar warn something he can't understand and just as Tiny is about to strike him again, a pale hand flies out of nowhere and grabs the meaty fist.

"That is enough. He is leaving now."

Tiny though, doesn't take the hint and makes a move to hit Dean another time only to have that same hand that was holding his fist smack into his chest and send him flying backwards six feet through the air. The whole bar just stops and everyone looks at this man dressed like a rumpled tax accountant who took out someone at least a foot taller with more than two hundred pounds on him like he was nothing.

Dean's coffee and lack-of-sleep buzz leaves right along with his adrenalin and he smiles at the Angel.

"Cas …buddy!" Dean says, a little lightheaded and God he's suddenly so tired.

"Hello Dean." Castiel tells him, helping him to his feet and draping Dean's arm over his own shoulders. Dean knows Cas could just haul his ass up and chuck him out the door but he really appreciates that Cas is saving what little dignity Dean has left.

The patrons of the bar go slowly back to their conversations until there is a familiar cocking of .22. Castiel cranes his head towards the sound and Dean shudders when he felt the Angel's Grace pulse through the room gently.

"We are leaving Henry, put your weapon away." The bartender, jaw open in wonder, nods slowly and sets the shotgun down. "Thank you."

Cas turns back and walks out the door, Dean leaning heavily on him and groaning in pain when his body twists slightly. It suddenly occurs to Dean that he's in pretty bad shape. One eye is swelled shut, his ribs hurt, and his head is starting to throb pretty badly.

"Think I got a concussion Cas." He mumbles and feels a bed press against his back. That doesn't make sense though, because they are still outside the bar and there aren't beds outside.

Two fingers are suddenly against his forehead and the pain singing through his head and torso vanishes completely. Just as suddenly though, the constant erection he had momentarily forgot about is back, pressing its way through his jeans. Castiel pushes a little harder, trying to heal that last of Dean's bruises. He's successful but the feeling of all that power riding along Dean's skin is just too much and something inside him snaps.

He cries out harshly, hips bucking up, trying to gain friction on his aching cock. God he is so far gone. That little piece of himself he keeps locked away from everyone is even starting to lose grip, starting to slip in fall into some dark twisting abyss Dean can't see.

Because right now Dean just wants. He's strung out so hard, body drawn tight like a bow string and the only thing he wants is Cas.

Cas filling him up.

Cas licking his mouth.

Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he can hear himself begging, he's pretty sure they are actual words but Castiel isn't touching him at all now and dammit Dean can't handle this. He opens his eyes and somehow manages to pin the Angel down with his gaze; a feat he knows he's never been able to accomplish before.

"Cas …" He moans, hips rolling gently and is thrilled to see his Angel a little more than a little effected by their current predicament.

"Dean." Castiel growls and Dean bites his lip.

"C'mon Cas. Help me out here." He mumbles lowly, lifting his hips up like an invitation.

"Dean." Castiel warns again and Dean knows he's pushing it, just like last time. He knows the last time they did this it was his fault, wasn't lying when he said he defiled the Angel. Technicalities aside. Dean's the one that enticed him, the one that pulled him into his bed, spread himself open and swallowed Castiel up like it was all he ever wanted.

There was something so deliciously dark about that whole experience, something so empowering about watching a being that is so fucking regal just fall apart because of Dean.

The Hunter reaches down and yanks off his own belt, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper. Castiel stops him though, wrapping a cool hands around Dean's wrists, "Dean, look at me." Green eyes shoot up to meet blue and God Dean is so desperate he'll do anything Cas wants him to as long as it ends with Dean coming. "I want you to do something for me." Dean nods franticly; anything, he'll do anything Cas wants. "I want you to come. Right now. Come."

Dean's orgasm attacks him from behind, whole body locking up so tightly a single touch could shatter him and he all out screams, voice going ragged almost immediately. It keeps going though, thrumming just under his skin and it hurts so fucking good tears spring to Dean's eyes. His hands are clawed, fingers twisting in the bed sheets so hard the material rips like paper.

"C-Cas …" He moans helplessly, back still arched off the bed. "Oh fuck Cas …" The Angel pushes their bodies together and begins to whisper in Dean's ear. Words Dean can't understand but he takes comfort in the smooth deep tone that rolls over his rigid body.

Finally his breath comes back and his muscles go lax, jumping every now and again in response to the pleasuring still pulsing through him.

Dean whimpers softly when he feels his jeans get pulled down his legs because he's too sensitive to be touched. The last thing he feels before slipping into blissful sleep is a set of warm, chapped lips press gently to his sweaty brow.

"Goodnight Dean."