Dean kissed Cas again and again. It was intoxicating being able to put his lips onto Cas's, being able to breathe the scent of him in, being so close to him and being able to touch him, when he had never been able to do it before. But then he realized what Cas had said, and objected. "I can't, remember? He's an angel. It's not physiologically possible."
Castiel whispered, "It's not physiologically possible for a human being to be brought from the past to the future or to be taken ten thousand miles in the blink of an eye, either, but it's possible when you're with him. How do you think that is?"
Dean frowned. "I'm not really sure. I guess he just changes things around me so that I'm capable of that?"
"Go back and tell him to change things around you so you're capable of making love to him."
Dean stroked Cas's hair, only realizing as he did it, how many times his hands had twitched when he stood next to Castiel, because he wanted to do exactly what he was now. "And how am I supposed to convince him that he can do that without hurting me?"
Cas said, "He'll listen. He wants to listen; he wants to hear it. He's just too frightened to hurt you."
Dean stopped to simply look at Cas, lying beneath him, his blue eyes somehow seeming to glow even though by all rights there should be nothing left to glow within them. He whispered, suddenly sad, "How long do you think we have, Cas, Before Zachariah takes me back?"
"I don't know," said Cas.
"We should wait until your wound is healed before we do anything strenuous," sighed Dean.
Cas's slow smile surprised him. "You think this is the only time I've ever taken a bullet and made love the same night?"
Dean cast his eyes down, thinking about first times.
Cas pushed his hands deeply into Dean's hair, leaned forward and whispered into Dean's ear, "Go down on me."
Dean's lips parted with shock at how forward Cas was, how different from the uptight angel he was used to. But at the same time, the heady words made his body feel instantly hot all over. "What makes you think I would?" he managed to breathe.
"The expression on your face," Cas chuckled. "I promise I'll lie still."
Dean had no answer to that, and looked down at Cas's body. He quickly finished replacing the clean dressing on Cas's wound, then kissed his stomach, avoiding the injury. Cas tasted of canvas and leather and gunpowder. Dean kissed further down and pushed Cas's robe aside, the skin beneath his lips becoming warmer and softer as he moved down Cas's stomach and to the soft, taut skin near his dick. Dean closed his eyes and wondered why it seemed so easy, so natural to do this when so many times he had wanted it, but denied himself and Castiel. He was distracted when Cas's dick stirred and bumped Dean's chin, and Dean took a deep breath and turned his face to take Cas in his mouth. The first thing he noticed was the taste – salty and heady, the distillation of every whiff he had ever caught of Cas's scent over the years he had known him, when he brushed past him or was pushed against him in the heat of a fight they were both in. The second thing that drew his attention was an ecstatic, guttural moan from Cas, and he felt Cas's whole body seem to melt beneath his touch. Dean began to suck, and felt his own erection swell as Cas murmured ragged words of encouragement and began to writhe beneath Dean's touch.
It was easy, so painfully easy to cross that line he had never been able to bring himself to cross. And it was everything he never dared imagine it could be. He could hear Cas chanting his name in a whisper, over and over, in a desperate tone of voice, that gave Dean a heady sense of control.
Cas's skin was warm and soft under Dean's hands. He shuddered and Dean pulled away a little to massage his tongue across the slick tip of Cas's dick.
Cas gave a whimper, but it was cut off halfway through as he tensed up and groaned.
"Please," Cas whispered in a broken voice.
Dean moved up, keeping his hand moving slowly up and down Cas. He looked at his face and thought that he had never seen anything more beautiful than the fallen angel, who had become human for him. Cas had a lost expression on his face as he met Dean's eyes. Cas's vocabulary seemed to have contracted to one word. "Dean," he whispered again.
Dean smiled and kissed him gently, then moved his lips slowly down over Cas's chest and stomach and took him in his mouth again. He used every skill he had learnt, in an admittedly long career of lovemaking, to bring Cas to the point of ecstasy again and again, so that eventually Cas just lay there, passive, his eyes helpless and locked onto Dean's, waiting for Dean's next move.
Dean ran his tongue across the slick, tight skin on the tip of Cas's erection. Cas shuddered and sighed, then arched his head back and whimpered when Dean did it again and again.
"What is this?" whispered Cas. "Why is this different?"
"What do you mean different?" asked Dean.
Cas whispered, "You touch me with your hands, and it is as if you pull my soul out of my body. I become someone else, or nothing. I'm not sure which. And it's like… being a part of God."
Dean stopped what he was doing and waited until Cas met his gaze. He meant to say something meaningful, but could only look at the expression in Cas's eyes and match it with his own. Dean opened his mouth to talk, but could only look at Cas, feeling helpless, wondering what words could possibly describe adequately what they were both feeling.
Cas looked at him, and then in a hushed, reverent tone of voice, asked, "Is this getting close to love?"
"I don't know," whispered Dean. "If it is, then I've never felt it before." He looked at Cas and kissed him. "I wish I knew."
Cas shuddered under his hands and looked down at his body. "Something's happening. I think I'm coming."
Dean slid his hands and his mouth quickly down Cas's body and captured him in his lips again. His cock was trembling, twitching every few seconds, and Dean took it in his mouth and sucked deeply. Cas gave a guttural cry and bitter seed pulsed out into Dean's mouth with surprising force. Dean engulfed Cas with his mouth and swallowed him deep, again and again, letting the semen go down the back of his throat, just like he liked to be sucked in when he was on the receiving end of the same sort of attention. It must have been pleasurable, because Cas cried out his name again and again in through gritted teeth. Dean thought that if he ever went to heaven, this is what he would spend his days doing – taking his angel apart and teaching him what might be close to love.
Cas was still shuddering beneath him when Dean crawled up and pulled him close and kissed him.
"I can taste myself on you," whispered Cas.
Dean pulled him tight and held him and kissed him again, but did not say a word, until suddenly it struck him that this might be his last chance. At any second, he could be snatched away from human Cas for all eternity. He hesitated, but then shook off his reserve, leaned forward and crossed another bridge, whispering deliberately in Cas's ear, "I love you."
Cas was silent for a long time, and then whispered, "Does this mean I'm going to die tomorrow?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Does anyone ever get to feel like this and then not die the next day?"
"I want to stay," said Dean. "I want to stay with you. I don't want you to die and I don't want the angels to take me back for a long time."
Cas turned to him, his eyes brimming with wonder, and whispered, "I love you."
Dean closed his eyes for a long time, letting the words sink into his soul, then whispered, "Thank you." He felt battle-hardened arms come around him and hold him tight.