When I think about you, I touch myself

Author's note: Chapter title taken from a song by the Divinyls

He woke with a start, eyes snapping open. As he sat up, the shift in position alerted him to an unpleasant sensation. Dean groaned as he looked down, and peeled back his covers. Just then, he heard his door hinge squeak. He snapped his bedside lamp on; eyes squinting towards the door, one hand instinctively went to the pistol under his pillow.

"Dean, are you all right?" Cas stood in the doorway: a ratty T-shirt that once belonged to Sam hung loose on his shoulders, the neckline stretched, and Dean's old flannel pajama pants covered his legs, the drawstring cinched tight over his lean hipbones. He padded into the room in bare feet, and Dean removed his hand from the gun to hastily draw the covers back over himself.

He felt his cheeks grow hot under Cas' piercing gaze, and after his temporary mental malfunction, his mouth was once again able to form words. His voice came out hoarse from sleep and his eyes were wild as he barked, "Get the fuck out of here, Cas!"

Cas raised his eyebrows at Dean's shouts, but made no motion to leave, simply stating, "But you called for me. You called out to me not even ten minutes ago, and I always come when you call."

Clearing his throat, he answered quickly, "I was talking in my sleep. I'm fine. Now get out!" Cas nodded but eyed Dean suspiciously, and turned on his heel.

As he watched the door close, he sighed "Fuck", and dug in his nightstand for tissues.

He was in the middle of putting fresh sheets on his bed when he heard a tentative rap on the door. "Cas, go away," he called, dropping the loose sheet to rub the sleep from his eyes. He smoothed his comforter flat, and the knock came again.

"Dean, it's me. Can I come in?" Sam sounded sleepy and fairly exasperated.

"Go away Sam, I gotta get back to sleep."

"Dean, it's important."

He sighed; "Fine."

Sam opened the door and strode over to Dean's bed, preparing to sit down; at the last second, he seemed to think better of it, and sat in a chair off to the side. Dean continued to fluff his pillows as Sam bitch-faced him. "Can we make this snappy? Cas woke me up and we gotta get going early."

He smirked at that, and responded, "See, that's the thing. Cas woke you up because apparently, you woke Cas up. You were calling for him in your sleep?"

"So?" Dean avoided his gaze, instead checking the safety on his gun. "I've called out to you in my sleep. Big deal."

Sam raised his eyebrows, and let out a laugh. "Not like this, you haven't."

Dean felt his stomach drop, as Sam continued, "See, turns out Cas is a really light sleeper. So he heard practically everything you said. And before you ask, no, I won't switch rooms with him. On the off-chance either of us ever brings someone back to 'the house that paranoia built,' I don't want it to be advertised."

He scoffed at his little brother's optimism – what girl in her right mind would come back to a place that was equal parts hobbit hole and dungeon?

"Awhile ago I found the blueprints to this place, and our rooms were originally one room – so the walls that separate our rooms from Cas' are thinner than everywhere else. So from his room, he can hear everything that goes on in either of ours. Long story short, I don't want an explanation, but you owe Cas one. He burst into my room, asking why you were mad at him. And, uh … he told me what he heard." Sam looked away and cleared his throat.

Dean was blushing furiously now, and Sam stood up from the chair. "Just make him understand the kind of dream you were having, or I don't know, develop some kind of signaling system with him. Because I don't want Cas to tell me anything like that EVER again."

"Dude's got boundary issues," he agreed his voice slightly higher from embarrassment.

Sam mumbled "G'night" and ducked under the doorway as he left, shaking his head and sighing.

Dean realized he'd have to sort this out before he would have any chance of sleep, and poked his head into Cas' room. In the dim light of his bedside lamp, Cas sat cross-legged on the bed, staring down at his hands. He cleared his throat, and Cas looked up. "Come on, I need to talk to you."

He motioned for him to follow, and they ended up sitting down on Dean's bed. "Sorry about before – you scared me. I didn't expect you to come into my room."

Cas squinted at him, his gaze intense as he responded, "But you called for me…"

"Yeah, 'bout that. I was having a dream, Cas. I was talking to the Cas in my dream, not calling out to you."

He gave a slow nod, and asked, "But what do 'I'm getting close', calling me 'baby' and 'come on Cas, cum for me' mean?"

Cas tried to meet Dean's eyes, but he'd focused intently at a spot on the carpet in front of him. "Then there was a lot of groaning and you said my name again, which is why I thought you needed me."

Wow, he really had heard the whole thing. Dean could feel his ears getting hot, he was blushing so badly. "I uh …" He met Cas' eyes briefly, his smile faltering as soon as he did, and he continued, "I'm gonna level with you, Cas. I was dreaming about sex."

Cas cocked his head to the side slightly, which Dean had to admit was funny. Since becoming human, most of Cas' awkward mannerisms had lessened in intensity, although the head tilt still got him. "So why was I there with you? Were we watching the pizza man?"

Dean chuckled – of course. "Well, you know how when people dream, they do things they normally wouldn't do?"

"Yes. You seem to have a recurrent one about being trapped in a competitive cake-eating contest."

"Right. Well, this dream was sort of like that. But before I say anything else, this stays between us, understand? Sammy doesn't want to know."

"Understood," he replied, blue eyes widening with curiosity.

"Now, don't freak out or anything, but in the dream I was having sex. With you." Dean's eyes broke from Cas' at the last sentence, before he had a chance to gauge his reaction.

Cas cocked his head to the side again, his lips set in a thin line, and he squinted at him in confusion, as Dean chanced a glance at him. With his hair messy from sleep, Dean was startled by how much he looked like the winged dick he'd met that first night in the barn. "Why?"

Oh boy. This was going to be harder than he thought. "Well, uh, dream-me wanted to… and so did dream-you. So we did."

Dean met Cas' eyes again, nervously licking his lips after his explanation, but the perplexed look remained. "Why would that 'freak me out'?"

Dean was caught off-guard, but tried to answer as best he could. "Well, uh … a lot of the time, people get mad if they find out a friend's been having sex dreams about them. Normally, those two things – sex and friendship – don't go together; especially when both of those friends are guys."

"As I told the congregation at that Catholic church so long ago, I am indifferent to sexual orientation."

Cas cleared his throat: "And who am I to censor your dreams? Neither dreams nor fantasies amount to harm of the other party…"

Something about his tone made the sentence sound loaded, and now it was Dean's turn to ask a question: "Cas… have you been having sexual fantasies or dreams, too? About me?"

"This surprises you? Although strangers so often lust after you..." He trailed off, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck; it was a human affectation he'd picked up from Dean.

"You have … and it doesn't freak you out?"

"A fantasy is something one can consciously control. If it bothered me, I would stop."

Dean swallowed his throat suddenly dry. "So … what do you fantasize about?"

Cas opened his hands, palms up and acknowledged, "We are being candid … Fantasy-you pressing up against me, and the two of us kissing. Sometimes doing more, although I don't know whether these things would even be pleasurable. Some of it, I saw the pizza man do …"

Holy crap.

"These thoughts came to me quite by accident," he continued. "It's the only way I've found I'm able to relieve myself, sexually." Cas seemed fairly embarrassed by this, his eyes fixed down at his hands.

Dean broke into an amused grin and asked, "You taught yourself how to masturbate?"

"I'm … not sure. When I think of these things, I undress and rub against my mattress until I am satisfied. Is that masturbating?"

Dean's blush, which had begun to recede, was back full-force. "Oh. Okay well, usually when men masturbate, they touch their penises until they get off. Like … stroking and whatnot."

"I am not familiar with that method," Cas stated. His eyes followed Cas' and he saw Cas' hands trying to hide his erection. "Could you explain it to me, Dean?"

He couldn't help but notice Cas' pleading tone, or the way he was practically shaking with self-restraint. "It's hard to explain," he answered, trying not to lick his lips as his eyes flicked back and forth from the carpet to Cas' hands. "It's more of a show than tell type thing, if you don't want anyone to hurt themselves."

"Oh… then, would you show me?"

"Cas, do you understand what you're asking?" He hoped to God he did, or this was going to get even more awkward.

"Yes … does it bother you?"

"I just don't want it to get weird. Like, what if you change your mind halfway through?"

"Dean, I – I want this." His eyes met Dean's with a familiar intensity, and he nodded briefly in response. With Dean's affirmation, Cas moved his hands away from his groin. Dean couldn't help but look at the sizeable tent in his pajama pants. Finally, he tore his eyes away.

"Okay," he responded, tugging his shirt over his head, motioning for Cas to do the same. He got underneath the covers, and held them up for Cas to join him. The two of them lying side-by-side in the full was a bit cramped, but he ignored this and continued, "Lose the pants."

As he did so, Dean tugged off his own boxer shorts. Now naked he said, "I'm going to push back the covers to show you, all right?" Cas nodded, and he inched the covers down to his knees. With the way Cas was looking over at him, Dean had trouble understanding his lustful gaze. Dean wasn't hard since he's just cum, and he was almost afraid to touch himself so soon.

But he knew Cas was looking to him for guidance, and he knew that until Cas could handle himself, he'd pester Dean. It was, he supposed, his fault. If only he hadn't been so vocal …

He blinked back from his reverie, Cas still eyeing his form. He also took a moment to eye Cas: he was surprised to find Cas was bigger than he was – and Dean was no slouch.

"Okay, watch what I do, and do it to yourself." Dean ran his right hand down, and gripped the base of his cock. He began a slow stroke upward, and then twisted his wrist slightly as his hand slid back down. He looked down, watching his fingers brush the smooth skin of his head, and he felt himself begin to harden. He looked over at Cas, who seemed to have hurt himself.

"Stop," Dean ordered. Cas' hand ceased. "What did you do?"

"My hand's cold and I did something wrong. It hurts."

Dean's willpower strained as he fought not to roll his eyes. "Put your hands on your stomach to warm them." Cas followed the command.

"Now grip the base loosely," he directed, illustrating on himself. "If there's a bad pressure from your touch, you're gripping too hard." Cas moved his hand, and seemed to finally get it. "Now stroke up and down," he continued, again using himself as a model. He tried (and failed) to suppress a shudder. Cas' left hand began a clumsy rhythm but eventually found something pleasurable, because he looked less scared and more, well, pleased. "Good," Dean acknowledged, breathless.

He couldn't help but watch Cas stroke himself. His eyes moved from his right hand, which rhythmically gripped his quivering thigh muscles, to his left hand as it slid up and down his cock. He watched the pad of his thumb smear a small bead of pre-come over his head, before he continued back down. His gaze moved upward, taking in the clenching of Cas' stomach muscles when he let out a shudder, and the way his left pec jumped as he pumped his fist. He went further up taking in the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to swallow, before they fixed on his parted lips. Small groans made their way past those lips, and suddenly, the thought of those lips was too much. He turned his gaze away, focusing on stroking himself.

He felt Cas' eyes on him again, sweeping up from his flush groin to his panting mouth. He licked his lips, and Cas moaned softly at the sight, moving his hand faster. "Dean," he breathed, and their eyes met. The former-angel's eyes had darkened, and eyes were wide, questioning.

Cas flicked his eyes down, lingering for a moment before moving up again. "Let me do it," he entreated, and Dean's hand stilled. He licked his own lips, releasing his cock from his grasp.

Dean just nodded, so starved for touch these past few months he wanted even an awkward handy, and suddenly Cas' hand gripped his, removing it. He bowed his head down, and before Dean knew what hit him, one of Cas' hands was holding the base of his cock, while his tongue licked a long stripe up his length. He took the head of his cock between his lips and Dean suddenly lost the ability to speak. Cas swirled his tongue, and endeavored to go a little deeper, taking the first three inches into his mouth. "Uhn, Cas, fuck," Dean stammered out, finally finding his voice.

Cas seemed to take his exclamation as some sort of instruction, and relaxed his jaw, drawing Dean in deeper. Dean fisted the covers and his hips made a jerky motion up. Suddenly Cas pulled back, coughing.

Fuck. I fucked it up.

"S-sorry – you okay?"

Cas rubbed his throat with his hand, and asked hoarsely, "What was that?"

"Gag reflex - it keeps you from choking. I won't thrust again," he promised, silently begging him to continue.

Please, please, please.

He looked wary for a second, and then dove back down. His other hand, which had been on the bed to stabilize himself, now gripped Dean's hipbone roughly. His tongue licked along the head, and he bobbed shallowly at first. Up until this point, Dean had managed to keep fairly quiet, but once Cas had swallowed down over half of his cock, a moan escaped his throat. The wet heat that engulfed him was almost too much to bear on its own, but then to look down and see those pouty lips wrapped around him made his vision blur. "Cas, I - I'm gonna cum. Get back up here…"

Dean moaned low in his throat, feeling that tongue work against the crown of his head, and it was all over. Cas pulled back somewhat, lips tight against his shaft as Dean pulsed hot and thick down his throat. Even when Cas' lips left his head, his cock still twitched, dry-heaving to the end of his orgasm. Cas sat up, and Dean saw the hard swallow of his throat. He brought a hand up to his lips, a finger swiping at the thin sheen that coated his lower lip. His tongue peeked out and licked the digit clean. Dean watched entranced, as Cas peered out at him from underneath his lashes.

"Was that okay?" he asked, voice now so hoarse that Dean's cock, painfully, tried to harden again. It had been a little awkward at first, Dean thought, but that finish …

He brought a hand up to Cas' arm, and instead replied, "You sound so fucking sexy like that."

Cas' lips quirked up into a small smile. "How'd you learn to DO that?" he asked, awed. "I mean, you didn't even know how to masturbate twenty minutes ago."

Very matter-of-factly, he answered, "The pornography I viewed seemed to focus on the role of the woman and her particular talents. Fellatio was one I witnessed multiple times." His voice seemed to return to its normal tone the longer he spoke: "For instance, if I was a woman, I'd have known perfectly well how to self-gratify." When Dean failed to respond, he continued: "The internet is a very interesting place. The pizza man has several videos."

He looked down to see Cas' cock curved hard against his stomach, leaking pre-come. His imagination was going wild at this new information and his cock ached from overstimulation. Before he lost his nerve, he closed the distance between the two, his lips crushing against Cas'. He reached down and grabbed Cas, feeling the hot skin pulse underneath his fingertips. He gasped, and his hands went to Dean's shoulders, his nails digging into the skin. He stroked for a few minutes, before he leaned against Cas, whispering in the shell of his ear, "Next time, I'll swallow you down."

That was all it took: Cas moaned quietly against Dean's neck as his body convulsed, his hands now fisting the short hair at Dean's nape. He nuzzled his lips against Cas' jaw briefly, the latter's eyes squeezed tight as he sobbed out moans. After a few moments, he blinked up at Dean, who was now staring down at him fondly.

As Cas pulled back, Dean suddenly seemed to remember himself. He passed a few tissues over from his nightstand, but seemed reluctant to meet Cas' gaze. They dressed in silence, and Dean cleared his throat. "Um, so … sorry I got carried away. But, uh, now you know how."

Cas regarded him curiously. "Do you regret what just happened, Dean?"

He stammered for a second, before replying, "N-no. But I was lonely, and took advantage…"

Cas' eyebrows knit together, and he narrowed his eyes. "Is that what you really believe?"

Dean said nothing, but gave the barest nod.

"After all this time, you feel the same; like you're so unworthy of even basic human affection." Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Cas held up a hand. "And for the record, you didn't 'take advantage.' I may be new to humanity, but I understand lust perfectly. I had sex last week."

Dean's lips slowly quirked up into a smile, and he finally spoke: "Well I'll be damned… Looks like dream-you was right."

"What?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. Hey Cas would you wanna, maybe, sleep in here tonight?"

"Yes, Dean – I'd like that."

The next morning a shirtless Castiel staggered out of Dean's room, muttering something about how he'd never get use to urinating, as he passed Sam on his way to the bathroom. A mussy-haired Sam poked his head into Dean's room to see his older brother pulling on a T-shirt. "Dean?"

He turned around, and as soon as he saw Sam's teasing grin, he put up a hand. "Before you start, Cas and I haven't had that 'talk' yet. So just keep it to yourself until we do, all right?" He sounded irritated, but his voice had a pleading tone to it.

Sam nodded slowly and replied mock-innocently, "I was just going to say it's about time." He glanced down at his wrist-watch. "We gotta leave here in fifteen."

"Got it, Sammy. Be right out." He hadn't met Sam's gaze, but a small smirk had formed on his lips. After the salt and burn a few towns over, he and Cas would talk. If everything went according to plan, he figured he'd officially make their relationship known to the rest of the family – Sam and Kevin. And, he thought with a little less fondness, he'd have to "come out". He felt weird thinking like this, considering himself with a man seriously.

But, he thought as he laced his boots and grabbed his green duffle, this was CAS – it was different. And, he figured after the kind of life he'd had - so much of the same - he could use a little different.

*fin*

Author's note: If you enjoyed this, please check out part two of the the "Because We're Family" series: "Good Things Do Happen". Thanks for reading!