Slow Ride, Chapter Three

Castiel was planning to save Dean, but it's funny how often that situation gets reversed. Dean/Cas SLASH.

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"Dean," said Cas, after they had both recovered and been sitting quietly together for some time.

"Yeah?"

"I want to – bring you pleasure, too," said Castiel, hesitantly. "Is there something I can do?"

"Dude, it's okay," said Dean, "oral sex is sex. You're not a virgin anymore."

Castiel was no longer interested in the arbitrary rules of humans. "You didn't get to enjoy yourself," he explained; "perhaps I could – use my hand? Or – with my mouth, maybe?"

"No," said Dean at once. "I don't want you do that." He couldn't quite wrap his head around the thought of an angel of the lord on his knees, for him. Dean Winchester, who didn't even like being singled out at birthday parties.

"But isn't there anything you would like," asked Castiel – "something that would bring you pleasure?"

Unbidden, a series of images flashed across Dean's mind; thoughts of how good Cas would look, pinned underneath him, or bent over the mattress, or maybe up against the wall. Guiltily, he looked up to find blue eyes fixed on his face. "What you were just thinking about," said Castiel. "I want to do that."

Dean managed to laugh. "No, you don't."

He got up to check the saltlines on the window, as Castiel watched him, still naked from the waist down and making no move to cover himself up. It was frustrating not to be able to read Dean's mind anymore. He watched unhappily as Dean made a circuit of the room, clearly keeping as much space as possible between them.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Huh?" Dean wasn't looking at him.

"I appear to have made you feel uncomfortable. That was not my intention. I apologize." He wished he would come back and sit again. Usually Dean was quite physical, at least with him – straightening his tie, directing him where to go with a hand on his arm, or his shoulder. Pushing him however Dean wanted him. But now Dean was clearly avoiding him, right when Castiel's needy human vessel craved contact more than ever. "These are all new feelings for me," he said, softly. "I find it very confusing."

"S'fine," Dean muttered. "Don't worry about it." He drifted closer to the mattress, eyes still fixed on the windows.

"You were thinking of – relations?" Castiel guessed. "I think I would like to – have relations, with you."

Dean froze. "Whoa, dude, no, bad idea," he said.

Castiel cocked his head. "Why?"

"You're talking about sex, right? Like actual, full-on, male-on-angel sex?" Castiel nodded, uncertainly. "That's – uh, that's pretty intense," Dean explained carefully, "and most people don't like it their first time. It's – kinda painful."

Castiel was unperturbed. "I trust you," he said. "I'm sure you'll make it a pleasant experience for me."

Dean blew out a breath. "O-kay, no pressure," he said, hiding his smile. "But no."

"You don't want to?" Castiel sounded almost – hurt.

"I'm not trying to insult your … angel feelings, or whatever," Dean said, finally dropping down to sit. "I just don't think it's a good idea. But don't worry, there's lots of other fun things we can do: believe me, you're with the right guy for this."

"I just - want to know what it's like, while I can still feel."

Dean sighed. He was pretty sure Cas had no idea what he was asking for.

He had fucked a man before, but he had been drunk and the guy had done all the work. It had been right after Sammy had left for Stanford and Dean had been morose and trying to keep out of his father's hair – John had been a real pisser for the first six months, trying to pretend nothing was wrong. After a long hunt Dean had been thankful for an invitation to a party at the fraternity they had just cleared of a poltergeist. At least it got him out of a hotel room that stunk of Jack Daniels and away from his father's temper, vicious as a rattlesnake. And there had been a guy at the party, a young, pretty guy, tall and thin with shaggy brown hair, making eyes at him all night. And Dean had loaded on a couple six-packs, and after the party broke up, when the guy had begged him to do it, Dean had fucked him over the back of a couch.

It had been good, not too much different than fucking a girl, and the guy obviously knew what he was doing, prepped himself and everything, and jacked himself off during, and afterwards he had thanked Dean profusely. But it had been anonymous and over in one night, and basically just one more secret to keep from Sammy and dad.

"Dude, you don't even use those body parts," said Dean, "it's gonna hurt like a sonofabitch. I don't want to do that to you. I like to – make people feel good …"

And Castiel knew that it was true. It was one of the hidden sides of Dean's nature, how he liked to take care of people - it was evident in the way that he worried over and protected his brother, or had worked so hard to please his father. But Dean took on too much, too much responsibility for things beyond human control. Castiel found that he wanted to give Dean something back, something that would bring him pleasure.

"I want to," said Cas, quietly.

"I can think of a hundred reasons not to," said Dean. "First of all, it's easiest if you bend over something, and your knee won't take the strain."

"We can do it face to face," Castiel countered calmly. "Humans do that."

"Second," Dean continued as if he'd never spoken, "I don't have any supplies. No condom, no lube."

"You don't need a condom with me," said Castiel, and Dean sucked in a breath and then exhaled slowly.

"Well I'm not fucking a virgin – you – up the ass with no lube," said Dean. "So the answer is still no."

Castiel was quiet for a moment, thinking. "In your duffle bag is a jam jar of holy oil," he said finally, as if he was commenting on the weather. "It's leftover from our time with Raphael."

"Okay, sacrilegious much?" said Dean.

"That was not one hundred reasons," Castiel observed. "Does this mean you consent?"

Dean groaned and closed his eyes, running his hands over his stubbled jaw. How could he do this? It wasn't something he could rationalize away as a favor or some kind of scientific experiment. This was sex, with Cas, for no other reason than because they both wanted to do it.

He looked over at the angel, who was sitting placidly next to him while he awaited Dean's decision. Like always, he looked scruffy and rumpled, his hair sticking up, with the beginning of a beard coming in. He was a good-looking man, if you were into that kind of thing - which Dean wasn't, particularly. More importantly, he was the only friend Dean had left in the world. Probably the only one who had his back, given that Sam was off taking a breather and Bobby was out of the game for the forseeable future.

Cas was the person who had brought Dean back to life, who risked his own life repeatedly to help him save the world.

Dean could count on one hand the number of people he really cared about, and when he took out the ones that had died or walked out on him, there weren't very many fingers left. Someday Cas would probably leave him too - Dean wasn't stupid; he knew that - but the guy had already given him more than Dean ever expected, and he was here now, alive, for however much longer. And for whatever reason, he wanted to do this.

He met Cas' blue eyes, and held his gaze, steadily.

"You'll tell me if I'm hurting you," he said. "Right?"

Cas nodded.

Dean went through the encyclopedia of positions in his head, finally settling on one he didn't think would put strain on the angel's injured knee. "Here, lay back," he said, checking the pillow under his leg, and then scooting to the head of the bed to grab the other one. "Okay, just gonna slip this underneath you ..." Obediently Cas raised himself high enough for Dean to settle the pillow under his lower back. "Comfortable?"

"Yes," said Cas.

Dean came to settle between Cas' thighs, looking down at the man spread out in front of him like a feast. "I guess I'm overdressed for this party," he said, reaching to shuck his two layers of shirts, and then cautiously lowering his hands to his belt. "Cas, you wanna keep your shirt on?"

Cas looked down at himself. "No."

"Well then, let's get on that," Dean suggested. He started to roll his eyes and then stopped himself; he didn't typically mock people he was gettin' busy with ... unless he knew for sure they were into that kind of thing. "Here, I'll do it."

He sat forward to carefully unbutton Cas' white oxford shirt, starting at the bottom and working his way up. "Okay?" He slid it off the angel's shoulders, then grabbed the hem of his undershirt and pulled it up over his head. Cas helpfully squirmed out of it and then sat, completely naked, while Dean unbuckled his own belt, and then popped the fly on his jeans. The sound of the zipper was startlingly loud. Dean pushed the pants off of his hips and kicked them away, and then paused with his fingers in the waist of his boxers, looking up to meet Cas' eyes, checking if he was freaked out yet. "Okay?"

"Okay," said Castiel patiently. He watched impassively as Dean's body was revealed to him; he had seen it before, of course. He understood that Dean was considered beautiful by human standards, but it was not the physical form of the Righteous Man that appealed to him, much though he preferred to look at it healthy and whole. It was Dean's attention, his affection, that Castiel desired at the moment. He wanted Dean to touch him. It was strange, how much he wanted that. And he wanted Dean to see him, only him, and to experience pleasure with him.

He didn't mention any of this, having been formerly educated on the meaning of "chick flick."

Finally rid of his clothes, Dean shuddered as goosebumps rose on his arms. He was relieved to feel the familiar excitement stirring in his stomach - he'd wondered if he would be able to get hard, what with no boobs and all. Luckily it seemed like Little Dean was on board with the plan. Cautiously, he rested a hand on Cas' stomach, above the little line of hair that tracked down from his belly button. "This is alright?" he asked, keeping his voice steady and calm.

"Dean, it's fine," said Castiel, faint irritation evident as he pushed to sit up a bit. "I'm not going to break if you touch me."

"Alright, alright, excuse me for trying to inject a little romance into the situation," Dean grumbled. Still, his hands were gentle as he stroked Cas' sides, inching forward, guiding Cas' good leg up and out of the way. Just as he'd feared, Cas looked too tight to take a pencil, never mind Dean.

And okay, yeah, he'd done this with girls before, but only if they requested it and always with a condom. And obviously it was always good – tighter than pussy - but Cas was totally inexperienced, and Dean hoped he would never be the kind of guy who liked breaking innocent things.

Well, he'd have to distract Cas as he worked him open, so he wouldn't notice the burn of being stretched. Dean was pretty sure he could handle that.

His fingers curled around Cas' cock as he reached for the duffel bag with his other hands, feeling for the jar of holy oil. He was going to need it. A lot of it. "Hey, this stuff won't hurt you unless it's on fire, right?"

"Of course not." Cas was still staring at him, expressionless - the way he always stared at Dean - but Dean found that he didn't mind much anymore. Feeling strangely shy, he bent down to press his lips gently to Cas' dick, at the same time slicking up one finger and sliding it back, behind his balls. Just introducing himself, letting Castiel get used to the feeling.

"Okay, the first rule is, you gotta tell me what feels good," he said, carefully rubbing the slick finger around. "That's key to good sex. Hey, are you taking notes on this shit? I'm giving away all my secrets for free, here."

He sucked the head into his mouth and slowly pushed in one finger, thankful that in this position Cas couldn't really clench up.

"I like the feeling of your mouth," said Castiel promptly, sounding a little out of breath. "It's wet. And warm. It feels good."

"We'll work on the sex talk next time," Dean muttered. Only he was guessing there probably wasn't going to be a next time; if they weren't killed tonight by Moloch, Cas would be back to full-power and probably not up for making whoopie anymore.

Still lightly sucking on the tip, he worked his finger in and out, adding more oil whenever he could. It didn't really make very good lube - it was too thin - but it better than nothing. "Is this hurting you?" he asked, moving his finger in little circles, trying to stretch out the muscle.

"I have been shot and stabbed," said Castiel. "This is not hurting me."

Dean rolled his eyes; obviously, that was kinda different. He sat back and let Cas drop out of his mouth - after all, he needed him to keep that erection for a long time yet - and reached for more oil instead. He concentrated on working Cas open, although he did keep stroking him lightly with the other hand.

He had no idea how to find a prostate, so he just kept his finger moving, cautiously widening the circle as he felt Cas loosen up. When he thought he could handle a second finger he dipped two in the lube (uh, holy oil), then Cas sucked down again while he pressed both of them in. He felt Cas tighten around him, then relax, as he pushed forward, so he figured he'd taken them okay.

When his fingertip brushed over a different texture, Cas made a squeak and pushed up unexpectedly into Dean's mouth, making his eyes water. He took a few seconds to recover. Okay, that was the spot, but maybe it'd be better to avoid it for a while.

"I liked that," Castiel offered.

"Yeah," said Dean, "I figured." Although he felt a little ridiculous, he took a chance and nuzzled his face down to the spot where his fingers disappeared. It wasn't really all that gross; he had done way grosser things in his life (both in and out of the bedroom) and after all Cas was – clean, there. Wasn't like he made a lot of trips to the bathroom (and neither did Dean, after they transported together).

"That feels ... good," said Castiel, his voice strained.

Dean pulled back anyway and sucked Cas down as far as he could go while he pressed in a third finger and cautiously spread them apart. Cas made a small sound, but it was more like wonder than pain, and he pushed up eagerly into Dean's mouth, trying to get more suction, so he figured he was ready.

"Don't come yet," he warned, pulling back. "Take deep breaths or something."

He took his own cock in his hand - and boy did that feel good - and slicked it with the holy oil, feeling himself twitch happily at the sensation. It had been a long time since he'd had sex without a condom. He hoped he'd be able to keep his control. "Okay, here we go," he said, his other hand coming to rest on Cas' hip, stroking the sharp point of bone there. "Tell me if you need to go slower, okay?"

He nudged the tip of his cock against the opening, using his hand to wank Cas as he pressed forward. "Stop it," said Cas, pushing his hands away. "I want to feel."

Dean worked the head in slowly, and then moved up to stretch his body along the length of Cas', using just his hips to push in further. Castiel pressed back against his chest, maybe liking the heat or the sensation of skin against his own, Dean didn't know. He had a free hand now and he found it sliding over Cas' back, like a slow massage, running along each knob of his protruding spine. Castiel was making soft little sounds, maybe of pleasure, or was it more like surprise?

When he thought he was all the way in, Dean guided Cas' uninjured knee up against his chest, thankful that Jimmy was apparently pretty freaking flexible. Or maybe that was Cas inside of him - Dean couldn't think about it now. Cas' leg came to wrap around his waist in a weird half hug, but at least it allowed Dean to press even deeper, and that felt good.

There was nowhere else to go, and he rested a moment, the two of them connected in the most intimate way he knew. His hands tightened around Cas' back, pulling him up against him, feeling Cas' cock trapped between them and rubbing against their stomachs, still wet with Dean's saliva. "Is it okay?" he asked, his mouth close to Cas' ear. "Is it too much?"

"It is enough," said Cas, his voice deeper than Dean had ever heard. "It is just the right amount."

That was all the encouragement Dean needed; he began to move, slowly at first, trying to keep the strokes even, hoping he was hitting that place from before. Cas grunted each time he pushed in but didn't try to pull away, his fingers creeping up to cup Dean's backside, holding him there.

He let himself thrust a little harder, trembling on the edge of control, not wanting to go too far but driven by the urge to bury himself deeper, deeper, lodge himself inside forever. It was hard to think of words; he couldn't say God like he kind of wanted to, and it seemed wrong to curse. Definitely mixing up the two, as he usually did, was not a good idea. Finally he settled on groaning softly, inarticulate and low, and Cas turned his face towards him to watch, his eyes fixed as they always were on Dean's expression.

"Dean," he said finally, and god it was hard to think but - "Huh?" Dean managed to say.

"My mouth is hurting," whispered Cas, knowing it was not right words to describe what he was feeling.

"Wha?" Dean's head came up, concerned, his hips slowing down to a gentle press and grind. His eyes were on Cas' lips, which he was biting and pressing together anxiously, and it still didn't feel good enough.

"Little oral fixation there, huh buddy," said Dean, his eyes knowing. Castiel was relieved that Dean seemed to understand what he wanted, since he himself had no idea. As Dean moved their faces closer he closed his eyes willingly, somehow knowing it was the right thing to do, and obediently moved his head at the direction of Dean's broad hand cupping his chin. A particularly good stroke filled him up again and he gasped in pleasure.

Then he felt Dean's lips press against his own, and he moaned - this was exactly what Jimmy's mouth had been wanting. Dean was kissing him, the way Castiel had once watched him kiss his brother Anna, but it felt a lot different from this side. Dean used the opportunity to coax Cas's mouth open for him, sliding his tongue in, strong and warm. Castiel didn't really know what to do with his body, although it was tingling and buzzing with need, so he gratefully accepted any initiative Dean wanted to take.

Dean picked up his rhythm again, looking down at Cas as he twitched underneath him, rocking with the thrusts, tossing his head from side to side. He took pity on him and guided his face up with a hand on his rough cheek, keeping him in place for Dean's kisses. Castiel sighed happily into his mouth, pushing back against Dean with no finesse but lots of enthusiasm.

Dean couldn't quite believe that Cas enjoyed this but it was obvious that he did. Dean could feel his own heart lightening - he was not going to hurt Cas, Cas was not going to be angry with him and hate him afterwards. Because it wasn't like Dean could really claim he was taking one for the team here, as he fucked Cas' perfect tight little ass. Oh, he liked this. A lot. He liked the slide of his hands up and down Cas' smooth, white skin - shoulder, flanks, good thigh, his ass which fit into Dean's hand like a ball in a glove. He liked to squeeze those cheeks together around his cock. And he liked to kiss Cas' hot, needy mouth, which had no idea what it was doing, little tongue poking out like a turtle coming out of its shell before ducking back in. Loved that. Some part of him couldn't believe he was enjoying kissing a man - seriously, not something he ever planned on doing - but, c'mon, Cas was kind of a special case.

"Dean?" Cas pulled him away from these reflections, and Dean reminded himself that he was ass-deep inside an angel and he should maybe pay attention.

He shifted the angle and began to work in earnest, keeping his eyes locked with Castiel's in the most epic of their creepy staring contests ever. He was getting close, and he hoped Cas was too or this would be pretty embarrassing, so he pressed their bellies together hoping to give Cas better friction and was startled at the sudden explosion when the angel came. The feeling of Cas pulsing around him, sucking him in like a mouth, pushed Dean over as well.

Everything went white for a moment after that.

He collapsed as soon as it was over, pressing all of his weight over the angel's slightly smaller frame. He knew that he was probably crushing him, that he should move, but he enjoyed the warmth of him way too much for that. Yeah, he liked Cas right where he was, tucked underneath him with that dazed look on his face, slack-jawed and drowsy and willingly turning his face into the sweaty curve of Dean's neck when Dean coaxed him to do it.

He waited while his heart rate slowly returned to normal, then sat up carefully. "Did I hurt you, Cas?" he asked, turning the angel over onto his back so he could see his face. "Buddy?"

"No," said Cas, blinking. "I am unhurt."

"You did so, so good," Dean murmured, "just rest a minute, okay? Rest." He hauled himself up to rummage for his t-shirt and the last of the water, soaking the fabric and then using it to wipe off Cas' stomach where he'd iced himself. Then he gently nudged his legs apart, wary of the injured knee, and carefully cleaned the reddened opening. It looked stretched and raw, and Dean winced as he tried to keep his touch light, but thank God there was no blood, and Cas let him clean him there without a murmur.

Castiel was in fact too blissed out and relaxed to do anything except lay there as Dean fussed over his vessel's body, listening to his muttered praise. He felt fingers in his hair, stroking with uncertain, unfamiliar tenderness, and he knew that for humans this kind of touch would bring back memories of being cared for as a child. Castiel didn't have any such memories to evoke, but he still found the attention pleasant.

Then Dean wiped himself off quickly and collapsed on the mattress next to Castiel. It was quiet and Dean didn't know what to say next. He found himself waiting, half-cringing and half-defiant, for the pain to start. Because he always, always had to suffer for the things he loved.

Castiel pushed against his side, turning over to glance out the window. "The moon is rising," he observed, his voice gravelly as usual.

Dean turned too and looked, cursing. He was right.

They were out of time.