Dean leads Castiel by the hand as they leave the library and head toward Dean's room. The confidence he had mere moments ago is fading fast and instead, butterflies appear to have taken up lodging in his stomach. He doesn't glance back at the fallen angel tagging along behind him quietly, the only evidence of his presence being the warm, strong grip of his hand and the soft shuffle of shoes on the stone floors. It's not the first time they'll be doing this, not even the first time today. Earlier, in the back seat of the impala, there hadn't been much time for deliberation. It had been hurried and desperate and they had to work with limited space and an abundance of clothing between them. While they may have temporarily satisfied their curiosity, they hadn't got very far. Now they have time, and Dean is feeling the pressure. He can feel his throat tighten and his shoulders raise defensively. Fortunately, he doesn't have time for a full-on freak-out before Cas is tugging on his hand, bringing them to a stop a few feet from the bedroom door.
Dean turns to face him, and tries to give Cas a confident smile, but can't bring himself to meet his eyes. Cas doesn't let go of his hand, even though they are no longer moving. Instead he gives it a small, reassuring squeeze and hesitantly reaches out with his other hand to lift Dean's chin up so that he has no choice but to look at him. Dean sees the soft, comforting expression on the face of the ex-angel standing before him and some of the butterflies seem to disappear. He tips his head toward Castiel's until their foreheads are resting against each other, and they stand like that for a moment, reacquainting themselves with the idea that this kind of thing is allowed now. Dean remembers what his brother said earlier, and can't help but wonder himself why it took them so long to get here.
Once all the butterflies have vacated, Dean becomes renewed with purpose. He pulls back a bit and leans down to brush his lips tentatively against Castiel's. This time, Cas doesn't hesitate. He takes a step forward, pressing their bodies together, and deepens the kiss with an exultant sigh. Dean responds fervently, licking at the seam of Castiel's mouth while fisting the front of his shirt and pulling him closer, pushing his own back against the wall. Cas' lips part and tongues meet for a brief moment, and then Castiel is tugging lightly on Dean's bottom lip with his teeth and Dean thinks he might lose it right then and there. So much so that he's unable to control the moan that escapes him. His jeans are becoming uncomfortably tight, and he suspects Castiel might be having similar problems if the hard object pressing into his thigh is any indication. Cas has one hand running through Dean's hair and the other cradling the back of his neck, and is now leaving feather light kisses along the curve of Dean's jaw. Dean presses his palms flat on Cas' chest and recaptures his mouth in another desperate kiss before reluctantly tearing away and pushing off the wall.
Castiel looks confused and a bit murderous for the half second before Dean grabs his hand and yanks him across the hall to the bedroom, pulling him inside, slamming the door, and pushing him against it. The guy somehow has the presence of mind to look mildly stunned before their lips collide eagerly once more. Dean rolls his hips into Cas' and grins when the movement elicits a gasp from his friend. He un-tucks Castiel's shirt and sets to work on the buttons as fast as his fingers will go, while Cas shoves his hands up the back of Dean's t-shirt to span them across his shoulder blades and down either side of his spine. They're grinding up against the door, Castiel mouthing at the base of Dean's neck, Dean pushing Cas' shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. They separate from the waist up for the few seconds it takes for Cas to pull Dean's shirt over his head and toss it aside, and then their hands are back to roaming over any bit of skin they can reach. Dean takes the opportunity to mouth and kiss and suck little bruises onto the skin at Cas' collarbone, while Cas sighs contentedly and grips Dean's hips tightly, keeping the friction where it's needed. As their mouths meet again and tongues take the time to explore, Dean begins taking steps back toward the bed, pulling Cas along with him.
Dean swivels them around as they reach the end of the bed, and gently pushes Cas back onto the mattress, allowing him to scoot up the bed a bit before crawling over him. He returns his attention to Cas' collarbone, lingering there a moment and then kissing a trail across to the other side. He reaches one hand toward the button of the suit trousers Cas is so fond of wearing and hesitates a fraction of a second, but his upstairs brain is no longer running things and he thumbs it open. Before he can tug the zipper down, a shaky hand covers his. He halts his ministrations and raises his head to take in Cas' apprehensive appearance.
"Cas?" Dean searches his friend's face, a few knots forming in his gut.
"I..." Cas' throat is tight and he swallows thickly and attempts to get the words out, "I don't really know how to do this." Apprehension turns to embarrassment as Castiel flashes a barely-there apologetic smile before adopting a look akin to anguish and covering his face with his hands. "Hey," Dean says softly, gently pulling a hand away and gripping it tight. "We'll figure it out as we go," he puts on a reassuring smile and waits with bated breath as his friend nods and beams up at him. Dean can't help but feel a bit relieved that he's not the only person in the room with anxieties. He gazes down at the once all-powerful soldier of Heaven beneath him, one who could smite you with just a look but a few weeks ago. His angel now looks so vulnerable and unsure, and Dean feels the overwhelming need to take care of him. To show him how important he is and how much his life is valued – powers or no powers.
Dean leans down and presses a chaste kiss to Castiel's forehead, to the tip of his nose, to each cheekbone where he can feel the content grin spreading across his friend's face. A quick press of lips to lips and then he's tracing a path down Cas' jaw, down his neck to his chest. Flicking his tongue out he tastes salt and sweat and Cas, revisiting the light bruises he left moments ago. He continues further down, ghosting over skin and pausing at a nipple, which he teases briefly with his tongue before gently clamping down on with his teeth. Cas' breath hitches, "Dean..." and he digs his fingertips into Dean's hips and bucks up involuntarily as his partner licks a stripe across his chest and repeats the process on the other side. Dean gives another sinful moan at the blessed friction and the sensation of Cas' hardness against his and instantly wishes there was less fabric between them. He returns to the task of divesting Cas of his pants, tugging at the zipper and attempting to shove them down. Cas lifts his hips off the mattress to allow the trousers to slide down and then kicks them off the end of the bed along with his shoes. Dean is now painfully aware of how constraining his jeans are, and almost sobs with joy when Cas has them unbuttoned and halfway down his legs in record time. He kicks his shoes off and shucks them down the rest of the way and they join Cas' trousers on the floor. Cas wraps his hands around the back of Dean's head and pulls him down for another kiss like he's running out of oxygen and this is the only way to get it. Dean senses the urgency and he reaches between them and palms Cas through his boxers. He feels more than hears the sharp intake of breath as Castiel steals more of his oxygen and cants his hips up to meet the touch. A shiver runs up Dean's spine when he feels how achingly hard and wet Cas already is, and he plots his next move accordingly. He breaks the kiss and is rewarded with an adorably indignant pout before he ducks his head and begins kissing and sucking a trail down Cas' chest and stomach, to the waistband of the white cotton boxers that are currently in his way. He glances up at Cas, who has propped himself up on his elbows to watch. Dean slips a finger beneath the waistband, and when it grazes the head of Castiel's cock, Cas throws his head back and releases a loud, low moan. Dean takes that bit of encouragement and runs with it, hooking another finger under the fabric, inching the shorts down Cas' thighs and tossing them aside, freeing Cas from any remaining constraints. He stands momentarily and sheds his own boxers, his breath hitching when sensitive skin meets chilled air. With nothing but space remaining between them; Dean crawls carefully back onto the bed as Cas eyes him hungrily. He stops halfway and kneels between Cas' splayed legs. Cas looks at him questioningly, but when Dean hooks a hand under one knee and lifts to press a light kiss to the inside of his thigh, his eyes go wide and his head rolls back again, hands grasping at the sheets. Dean continues to press soft kisses to Cas' inner thigh until he's covered the area, then he moves to the other leg to do the same thing, all the while keeping a close watch on the beautiful sight of Cas slowly falling to pieces before his eyes. Dean feels intense heat pooling low in his abdomen. He takes in Cas' steadily leaking cock and fluttering eyelids, and doesn't know how much longer either of them will last. He gently lowers the thigh he'd been attending to, and Cas' head snaps back up, irises almost completely blacked out. "Dean...please…."
Dean commends Castiel's ability for figuring things out on the fly, and rewards him by leaning down and licking a wet stripe from the base of his shaft to the tip. Cas' eyes flutter closed again and his head lolls forward, fists tightly grasping the bed sheet. As his legs begin to shake, Dean swathes his tongue around the head, quickly getting used to the salty tang of pre-come. Cas is now muttering under his breath, something that sounds like enochian, but the only thing Dean can recognize is his own name popping up every few words in perfect synch with the little involuntary upward jerks that Cas' hips are making. Dean smirks proudly at that and holds Cas' hips steady as he swiftly takes the length of him into his mouth and hollows out his cheeks, sucking lightly.
Cas is rendered speechless, only able to produce a small gasp when Dean's mouth envelops him completely, and then his vision starts to tunnel. He can feel every muscle in his body tense up and thinks perhaps he should be giving Dean some sort of indication that he's approaching climax, but he suspects Dean already knows as he can feel the hands on his hips tighten just before everything turns white. He feels his release punch through him, knocking the air out of his lungs as if he had just landed square on his back. At the same time he arrives at the conclusion that this is what Heaven should be like. His vision gradually returns to normal and he leans heavily on one arm, panting. He feels Dean swallow around him before pulling back and grinning at Cas, looking especially pleased with himself. Cas reaches out to wrap a hand around Dean's bicep and pull him closer. When Dean becomes within reach Cas greedily covers his mouth with his own and flips them over so Dean is now the one on his back. Cas probes and explores Dean's mouth again, determined to know everything, to map every inch of it and catalogue every desperate, content, or impatient sound that Dean makes while Cas conducts his research. Before long he remembers that his hands can also participate, and he reaches between them, wrapping a hand around Dean's still agonizingly hard cock. He feels Dean's body tense up. A fervent moan passes across their joined lips, and Castiel is pleased that he seems to be doing something right. He doesn't remove his hand; he leaves it there and continues to claim Dean's mouth as his rightful territory until Dean gives a small impatient huff and covers Cas' hand with his own, carefully moving it up and down the length, increasing in speed when Cas experimentally tightens his grip a bit. He can feel a warm liquid drip down onto their hands, making their movements slick and easy. He takes his free hand and rubs soothing, encouraging circles into Dean's lower back. He senses that Dean is close, and their hands move a bit faster. Dean's entire body is taut and shaking infinitesimally and he has to detatch himself from Castiel's mouth to catch his breath. Cas seizes the moment to explore elsewhere, and tentatively tugs on an earlobe with his teeth. That's apparently all the exploration Dean can handle and he comes with a choked out "Cas – fuck", more warm liquid spilling out over their hands. Cas brushes his free hand across the hunter's sweat-drenched forehead, pushing his hair back and pressing a warm, affectionate kiss to the peppering of freckles that lay there while Dean pants through his release. Both sated, they lie side by side on the mattress, breathing slowly returning to normal, hands still clasped together and resting between them. Once his brain checks back in, Dean rouses Cas to sit up and reposition themselves under the covers. They pull the sheets tight around them and lie facing each other, legs intertwined and fingers woven together, and fall asleep to the sounds of their slow, steady breathing.
Roughly twenty minutes after Sam is ousted from the library, he hears shoes shuffling in the hallway outside his room. They stop a ways past his door, but he doesn't hear his brother's or Cas' door close. What he does hear is enough to verify his decision to sleep in the dungeon. Or the shower room, or the freaking gun range. As soon as he hears the door of his brother's room slam closed and the muffled sound of someone being pushed against it, he moves quickly, snatching the pillow from his bed and a blanket from his closet. He cautiously open his door, poking his head out to make sure they've gone and then makes a beeline for the stairs, muttering curses under his breath.