Getting the records from the stores didn't take long, however the information revealed that all the people who had bought that shitty CD had already died, leaving them with absolutely nothing to go on... again. "AGH!" Sam slammed his laptop shut for the final time that day, "This is impossible..." he slumps over and begins messing up his own hair.
"Not impossible," Dean muses, the neck of a beer bottle already comfortably wedged between his thumb and two fingers. "What if we head back to the shop tomorrow and buy a crappy CD? Then we'll mark ourselves as targets, and lure the bitch out of hiding." No matter the circumstance, Dean always seemed to be the one willing to put his life on the line. "Of course, that'd have to be tomorrow when the shop opens up again."
Sam nods, slowly lifting his mussy head from the desk. "Yeah, that'll have to do I guess. That way we're the next targets and no one else gets hurt." He stretches, "Guess we're done for tonight then."
Cass sits up from Dean's bed, his eyes sparkling brightly, "Well if you're done for the night then let's let off a little steam, I saw a great place on the way back we could walk to for drinks." His smile widens.
Sam groans and lifts his head again, "Nearby that we can walk to?" He considers it, drinking wouldn't be good if they needed to be alert. Then again he had nothing to be alert for so there wasn't anything to be done anyway, no leads whatsoever meant he sits angrily in the motel room all night. "I don't know..."
Dean grinned, "C'mon Sammy, it'll be fun. It's not like we have anything better to do. It's time for some beer and relaxation." Whether or not Sam pointed out that that was exactly what Dean was already doing was inconsequential, and Dean was quickly lacing up his boots.
Sam frowns, "But Dean... that's what you're doing." Dean knew his little brother well.
"Two against one, Sam!" Cass calls from the door. "It's two blocks from here, come on." Castiel gets his shoes on, waiting for the Winchester's. His hips sway eagerly before he bolts outside, taking in the cool breeze. Cass doesn't run ahead of the brothers though he does tug at them to hurry up, taking Dean's hand firmly and refusing to let go.
Approaching the building Sam can't help a grin, it isn't their usual bar scene; Castiel has taken them to a club. Sam glanced at the entrance price and realized that they were in luck; it was free entry for new comers. The club had already been open for a little while so there was hardly a line as well. "Let's go in," Sam joined Castiel's eagerness, if only to bug Dean. "Two against one." He smirks at his older brother as he enters the dreaded club.
Dean looked up at the flashing lights, the younger crowd of teens pooling around the exit and jabbering on about nothing. He could already hear the pounding bass and he was still standing in the parking lot. Dean groaned with disappointment. He wanted a bar, not a club. Not something rave, just a nice bar with pool and poker. "You've got to be kidding me." Dean grumbled and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.
As soon as Castiel's in the door he feels the beat of the music and can't help but move to it, like it has him in a trance. His hips catching the familiar tempos and moving with it, his heart pounding with the bass that's sending his mind into a numbed state. Everything feels familiar again, like he's home. Cass knows where the Winchester's will be, he needs to break away for a moment.
Sam went straight for the bar for a drink, the reason he'd come. He looked back at the dance floor, a phenomenon he'd never really explored, even in college. Yet, despite his lack of knowledge on it, he can tell that upon entrance, Castiel has taken control of it without difficulty. "I've never imagined Castiel could be so... fluid." He says out loud, whether Dean hears him or not is another story. Sam's pretty sure Dean's at the bar with him, neither of them were very adept in this sort of place.
From the outside looking in it appeared as though Dean had followed Sam straight to the bar. In reality Sam could've been entirely invisible –Dean needed a drink to survive this place. The smell of spilled drinks mixed in the air with sweat from the dance floor and the smoke from a joint. Dean could've sworn that there was a lingering stink of sex, but that could've been him. The bustling bodies left no space to speak of and Dean could barely hear a word that Sam said. Looking back over his shoulder at Cass and nodded, "Fluid's one word for it." Dean turned to the bar tender, "I'll just have a beer, don't matter which."
Castiel captures the club like he always does, catching the DJ's attention, and sever others' as well. Everyone wants a piece of him by the end of his second song though he managed to escape to the stage where the DJ was hanging out.
"What's your name?" The DJ asks, his gold-studded teeth shining in Cass' direction.
He knows his way around a DJ booth; the microphone is always in the same place. Casually leaning toward it as if it's the most natural thing, "Castiel." His voice washes over the crowd like a drug, digging into their minds in a way they'll never forget him. Castiel has an air of confident professionalism up on a stage, he knows how to hold the crowd's attention and he knows how to carry himself. "May I ask a favour of you?" He smiles charmingly at the DJ whose grin only widens in agreement as Cass whispers in his ear.
"Special treat, people," The man calls into the mic, "Castiel, our angel for the night, is going to perform for us."
Dean's head turns in the direction of the dance floor, still nursing his beer. "Does he go around telling everybody he's an angel?" Dean feels a twang of nostalgia, of the time he and Castiel posed as FBI agents in their hunt for Raphael's vessel. The truth was not the best answer.
The crowd sounds enthusiastic, though Cass knows they can do better. He takes an extra microphone and nods at the DJ, a smirk on his lips. In seconds the sound track to an upbeat, not as pop-y song begins to play; Cass knows getting Dean's attention will be impossible singing a shitty song.
Cass takes the mic, and for anyone thinking this was going to be some lame karaoke sing along they were dead wrong. Dean was floored by Castiel's stage presence. He could tell that Cass could move, but this man seemed to live and breathe music, like the beat was pumping in his veins. When those beautiful stubble framed lips opened and Cass began to sing, it wouldn't have mattered if he were moving or standing still.
Sam's eyes widen, "Well what do you know..." he mutters, glancing at Dean for a reaction.
"Damn..." Dean muttered, astounded at Cass' singing voice. Never had he imagined that man singing; nothing could have been further from his mind. Dean found himself thoroughly entranced, mesmerized by the sound. Only just before the song ended did Dean realize; "I hate that song."
Dean looked at Sam, "So do you think he went to the club just so he could ditch us? It's been almost half an hour, and he hasn't even come over." Dean knew how to play this game, he'd done it with every chick he'd ever picked up: interested or no, you never give out too much info. Yeah, he wanted Cass, and yeah, he found him attractive. Cass did that performance for himself, and Dean couldn't give him too much attention over it. Cass must've seen him watching, but being needy wasn't Dean's style, not intentionally anyway.
Dean indeed knew the game well, however he didn't know Castiel's game. This Cass is used to getting what he wants; not only that, he's used to getting attention from Dean. The angel enjoys himself on the floor, yes; however he continually glances back for Dean. This is the way he caught his boyfriend the first time, someone who was convinced he hated the lead singer of Pleasure My Angel. This Dean... this cryptic, beast of a man, didn't so much as give him a second look whereas his Dean couldn't stop staring.
Castiel's heart fell again, 'I miss my baby...' He wipes his eyes and trots through the crowd again, though they aren't as willing to just let him pass by. An angelic forceful shove made a pathway for him as he approached the boys at the counter, they'd only been in the building for half an hour but Cass had had enough of it. He wasn't the same partier he used to be, he wasn't the man who would wake up on a bus one morning and hunt out a club to dance at immediately. He wanted his lover, he wanted Dean; he wanted his friends, he wanted his family.
The music is loud, and when it comes to conversation it is overpowering. But Dean was beginning to find that it just wasn't loud enough, not to drown out his mind. He wanted to find Cass out on that floor, drag him back, and give him his first goddamn drink of the night. He wanted to put his hands on those hips, maybe even dance with him. Some odd sliver of jealousy wanted to punch out the other people dancing near him, and reclaim him. But the game demanded he stay put, and his masculine pride demanded he stay straight. Dean realized he wasn't too good with meeting demands.
Cass tugged gently at Dean's jacket, just to make sure he had the hunter's attention, "I'm going back to the motel." Even though the club is louder than all hell, Castiel's voice still breaks through. He smiles sadly and kisses Dean full on the lips, his heart beating erratically as his mind spins.
The tug at Dean's jacket brought a wicked grin to his face: he'd won; Cass had to come back to the bar. When turning to face Cass, Dean was met with what he thought to be a very pleasant kiss. His hands came up to Cass' hips, nudging him closer, feeling Cass' body near his. It was exhilarating, and Dean really didn't care if Sam wanted to poke fun, because Sam didn't have what he had.
Cass breaks the kiss and leans up to Dean's ear, "I love you." He whispers, a stray tear dripping from his jaw-line onto Dean's cheekbone. In an instant the angel vanishes.
It's only when Castiel backs away that Dean sees the hurt etched into his face, the pain that he was wearing like a second skin. Dean hadn't won the game –Cass wasn't playing. That dance number, the wanting to get out and have fun, it was for Dean, to spend time with him and get closer. Dean could've kicked his own ass for his stupidity. "Cass don't-" But the angel was already long gone. Dean turned a hurt expression to Sam.
Sam blinks incredulously, "What happened?" he practically shouts, "Did he bring us here just to ditch us?" He asks the same question as Dean though unintentionally, thus proving the club's music is much too loud once again. He motions to get out of the building, since they're no longer in the company of someone who wants to be there.
Dean nodded quickly, the club scene was over. Dean rose and followed Sam to the door, now trying to figure out how to fix whatever it was he shattered into pieces. 'You know what you shattered into pieces,' he chastised himself, 'his heart.' He scolded himself for being so dramatic. How was any of this his fault?
"Okay, I think this has something to do with you." Sam's guessing out loud now, "So you go back to the motel, I'll pick up beers or something. Call me when you guys are done." Sam pats Dean's shoulder and then heads down the street in a different direction; toward the liquor store.
"Yeah, this is definitely my fault," Dean mutters, accidently betraying how much he really knew. To Sam, Cass' last contact before leaving was Dean, so there must be something there. In actuality, Dean had played keep away with Cass not giving him any attention or acceptance, had indulged enough to receive a blow job, but never reciprocated in anyway. Yeah, it wasn't 'something to do with' it was downright 'fault.'
Castiel sheds his clothing and pulls on one of Dean's shirts, long enough to cover himself. He crawls into the bed he knows he woke up in, the one Dean will be returning to. He loves to sing, he loves to dance, but he loves Dean more. If he can't have the thing he wants most, the thing he needs, then what's the point in doing the rest of it? Cass sobs into the pillows, his hands clutching the blanket close to himself.
Dean sighed heavily, having no idea what he'd say. Part of him knew that his typical mistake was playing it too tough, pushing people away when he needed them to come closer. He wasn't sure why he did it but he did. When all he wanted to do was forgive Sam, he'd shut up and give him the cold shoulder. And that was all too common. God knows how many times he'd let Castiel down in the past. Dean took a deep breath before putting the key in the lock, trying to prepare for the worst.
What Dean finds is far from what he's used to. When he messes up with Sam, Sam gets mad and then there's a fight. Something Dean can do, can act out against, and something that makes him feel like it's not his fault, and he hadn't screwed up that bad. But Cass... Dean found Cass crying on the bed, his small frame was visibly shaking from the body-wracking sobs that tore from his throat. Dean felt his heart settle in his gut.
Cass heard the door open and the sound of biker boots on the dirty floor, he knows it's Dean. The silence that begins their confrontation tells him that Dean is taking in the sight, not sure where to start. The angel scrunches up further, clinging to the blanket as if it comforted him in any way.
"Cass," Dean started walking across the room, getting the distinct feeling that Cass didn't want him there. "Cass, I'm sorry." Dean sat at the side of the bed. He could fix this, he knew he could. He just needed to set things straight.
Castiel knows that the best thing for him to do is stay silent and let Dean talk, just let the conversation flow out and see where it goes. However, he's been hurt by Dean's actions, his negligence. 'It isn't like he has to pay attention to you; you aren't his boyfriend.' This thought sobers his mind, forcing any anger he had back down. Dean sounds honest, like he really is sorry.
Dean put a hand to Cass' shoulder to still him, stop him from shaking so much. He rubbed his arm, warming him and hopefully conveying comfort. "Back at the club, I really liked your performance. Truly, I did. I forgot where I was, what I was listening to. Your voice is incredible..." Dean trailed off, wanting to comment on his body, but finding that it sounded ill-placed and inappropriate in this conversation.
Cass rolls over now, his body has calmed down and he feels he can look up at Dean again. He wants to speak too, though he knows that doing so may stop Dean from speaking all together. 'If he doesn't get feedback he'll close off, I have to say something.' Castiel places a gentle hand on Dean's, a small smile aimed up at the larger man to assure him the comfort is appreciated. "Thank you, Dean." He whispers, sitting upright again.
"I wanted you, Cass. I really, really wanted you. I thought if I showed too much interest, you'd leave. Don't ask me to defend that thought, I couldn't even begin to find a rational reason why that might be, but that's how I was thinking. I didn't want..." Dean fought with the words, but the last thing he needed was to close off and defend himself. That would only push Cass away, and he'd already warned himself not to pull that crap.
"I didn't want to be rejected." Dean finally fought the words out. He suddenly felt very vulnerable, like someone would stab him in the back any second, like he'd laid himself far too bare. His instincts told him to drop the subject, abandon ship, and run. Close off, fight back and protect what little he had left. With that one sentiment, those few words, Dean had admitted that he wanted Cass to the point where rejection would be painful, that he wasn't after sex like any other pick-up game, that he may have feelings invested in this. Dean looked at Cass, just past the top of the covers.
"I don't know how you feel about me and your Dean," talking about himself in the third person was just wrong, but this wasn't truly in third person, it really was another him. And if this other him was half as needy as this Cass, Dean had a feeling he and himself wouldn't get along. A punch in the face might smarten the bastard up.
"But I really like you, and maybe while you're here..." Fighting instinct was only getting him so far. Dean was nearly shaking with his own lack of confidence. It would be so much easier to shut down and stop pursuing this. But if he did that, then neither of them would get what they wanted, and Cass would only cry more. And Dean really didn't want Cass to cry anymore.
Cass takes Dean trailing off at the end as his cue. He can see Dean's involuntary convulsions; small as they are they're still visible to him. Cass has never seen Dean so nervous, so unsure of himself, not even when they first started going out. Dean pursued him just as much as Cass flirted with Dean, it was mutual. This Dean was scared of people, interaction, but mostly relationships. "Sweetheart," he wraps his arms comfortingly around Dean's, he isn't sure how the tables turned but he knows they have. "If I was going to reject you, I never would have been so flirtatious, and I definitely wouldn't have blown you."
Dean would have described his heart as being in his hands or on his sleeve, but he found it more accurate to say it was with Castiel. Cass had a very good point, and somehow Dean figured he already knew that. So then why the game? Why make Cass come to him, when he already had –first? Nerves, maybe. Or it still had something to do with the fact that not only was this a man, and not only was he not human, this was Cass.
Cass leans back now, a smile gracing his soft lips, "To me, you're still Dean. You aren't exactly the same man but you're still him and I'm still in love with you. In my opinion, if you can find your partner in an alternate reality and still love who they are, it's true love." He leaned in, placing his forehead against Dean's and brushed his lips by Dean's, though not yet kissing them.
The taunt of a kiss was something Dean barely resisted. Cass was speaking, he had something to say. Important stuff that needed to be conveyed. And Dean wasn't even sure he caught it all. He wanted so badly to close the distance between them, to feel those lips on his. Fighting this urge came first, and then listening to Cass after. The sway of Cass' slender hips, his significant lack of clothing, and the tender tone of his voice was an odd mix. Dean could feel that it wasn't strictly lust that drove Castiel's actions, and wondered if it was right of him to take advantage of this.
"I'm crazy about you; I would never hurt you like that. Promise." Cass whispers before closing the kiss; pressing his body passionately against Dean's, he climbs out from the safety of his blanket.
Still kissing him, Cass elegantly slides a leg over Dean's lap, resting it on the other side of the man's hips. Castiel deepens the kiss, now straddling Dean in nothing but the man's t-shirt and revealing this fact to him. A light shudder runs down Cass' spine causing little bumps to sprout all over his exposed skin, he feels the rough fabric of Dean's jeans scuff his dick lightly and lets out a low moan. Cass repeats the sensation by pressing himself down again then slowly lifting himself back up. He's half distracted by his swelling cock which results in a messy kiss, his tongue tracing the insides of Dean's mouth and slipping out every now and then.
The kiss is exhilarating, and Dean's surprised how much of a reaction such a simple action draws out of him. He'd been around, women of all shapes and a slightly smaller variety of sizes –he did have some standards. Action was a regular part of Dean's diet, right up there with hunting, putrid stenches, and bacon cheeseburgers. A little kiss shouldn't send him off the rails like a prepubescent teen, but somehow Cass managed it. Dean's hands refused to stay still, refused to be that dumb lump with nothing to do. His hands rested back on Cass' hips, a comfortable and seemingly natural position. Dean could feel the sway, the muscles working and twisting; Castiel's lithe frame eager for something...
Castiel leans back for a moment, his thigh muscles still enthralled in the slow humping motion, his blue eyes almost consumed in the blackness of his pupils. "Fuck me, Dean." He whispers roughly, his breathing hot and at an increased rate. He grinds his hips downward again though this time when he comes back up he readjusts his right leg to rest between Dean's thighs. He presses his knee up repeatedly, roughly massaging the sensitive area. Cass' expression is difficult to make out in the dim lighting yet his lust emanates from him and is quite catching. "Come on baby, fuck me." He repeats this time with more urgency but it's more of a demand than a question. He wants it; therefore Dean is going to give it to him.
Only when Cass finally makes contact with Dean's groin does he realize just how hard he is. All of Cass' taunting and teasing, his shamelessly revealed lower areas and that voice. How could Dean have never before appreciated that stunning gravel baritone? 'Uhh, because it shattered glass and nearly shredded your eardrums?' How the hell was logical thought still around?
And then it occurred to Dean where the source of his confusion lay: Castiel was making all the moves. Castiel woke up in a state of loving Dean, Castiel wanted to blow Dean –and did. Castiel taunted in the breakfast diner; and in the club? Cass again. Dean played keep away, but never advanced, not once. And now Cass was perched on top of him, telling him to act. 'Oh fuck that.'
Dean leaned forward, kissing Cass roughly on the mouth, digging a hand in Cass's mussy hair and pulling him close, disallowing any breaking away or protest. Dean broke it off when he wanted to, and not a moment sooner. Dean rested Castiel's head against his own, still guiding his head with his grip in Cass' hair. Breathing heavily, Dean's ragged response was something to the effect of "You don't need to tell me again." Dean was never a particularly romantic type, he couldn't give pet names to people that didn't come easy. Castiel was Cass, not baby or sweetie.
Cass moaned eagerly into Dean's mouth, his heartbeat fluctuating like a butterfly's wings. The hand gripping his hair was enough to harden him, but Dean's sudden interest had him feeling almost dizzy. The world around him seemed to slip by, nothing was in the room but Dean and himself, and possibly a bed but it could've been a pile of newspapers and he wouldn't have noticed. Dean was taking charge like Cass had never experienced it before, forceful, a little rough, and showing him who's boss. Castiel rubbed against Dean more fervently, his breaths sucked sloppily through tiny breaks in their kiss.
Dean's grip on Cass' waist loosened, his hands sliding up and pulling his shirt up and over Cass' head. Dean's hand then made their slow, exploratory way down Cass' lithe torso. The frame and firm skin of a naked man was foreign to Dean. With sexual intent, Dean saw Cass's body in a whole new light. It felt amazing, and Cass' mastery of his muscle movement was a promising thing. Finally finding Cass' bare waist, Dean lifted the smaller man and flipped the two over, now pinning Cass on the bed.
"You know, Sam said to call him when we're done, so really..." Dean's hands were wandering again, exploring again. His eyes held that animalistic glint of hunger and desire, "we can take all the time we want." Dean's head dropped and he started a teasing nibble at Cass's hip, nowhere close to where he needed to be, but excitedly working his way up to it –or rather, down to it.
On his back now, Cass stared lustfully up at the weight above him, pushing him into the softness of the bed. Dean's hands sliding over his skin sent shivers throughout his body, making everything sensitive to the other man's rough hands. Cass' gaze lingered on the top of Dean's head, his breathing catching in his chest with every nip closer to his aching erection. He can't help the light thrusting motions his hips are making toward the source of friction that is Dean, a low groan rumbling deep in his throat with need. He whines a little at the teasing though he enjoys it thoroughly, every little thing Dean does is like brand new.
Dean's hands slipped under Cass, placing a firm grip on his buttocks. His nibbling led him down Cass' hip, and he followed the treasure trail to the eager weight that stood tall, weeping with desire. Once confronted with the task, Dean wasn't sure if he was fully up to it. He'd never placed another man's dick in his mouth before, never even considered the thought. How to proceed? 'Well, what do I like?' With that in mind, and hours worth of porn know-how, Dean set to it. His mouth crept over the head of Castiel's waiting erection, saliva mixing with the precum and moistening the length of Cass' cock as Dean slid his lips down, fitting as much as he could.
Castiel cries out as soon as the warmth of Dean's mouth washes over him, his back arching slightly. "Ohhh Dean..." he breathes, his words ending with a whimper, a sort of compliment to Dean's efforts. "God... ah, nnn..." Cass tosses his head from side to side, his muscles contracting with every force of suction, his dick quivering with all the anticipation. His toes curl in and relax repeatedly, eyes squeezed shut and his hand down in Dean's semi-short hair, torn between pulling and massaging his hands through it.
Dean took longer to find a rhythm than he'd ever admit to, but eventually it came, and once he had the hang of it, the action seemed natural –somehow normal. Cass tasted astoundingly different than any woman, and Dean astounded at how much he was enjoying this. Not just the sex, and not the peculiar fact that it was with a man, but pleasing someone else, that was somehow more satisfying to Dean at this very moment.
"Oh baby you've got it!" Cass gasps when he feels Dean hit his stride; the power behind the man's tongue is amazing. The view Castiel had of Dean, down between his legs and pleasing him, putting in so much effort, it was more than Cass could have asked for. His boyfriend always had a certain technique to getting him off, he knew what Cass liked. This was like their first time, fumbling over one another's bodies, trying to find the sweet spot, the little turn-ons.
Cass was a wonderful source of feedback, every stroke of Dean's fingers and every flick of his tongue earned him a response, some gratifying, some telling him he was just barely off. Cass was possibly one of the most vocal partners Dean had ever slept with, and it didn't stop there. Cass' legs over his shoulders was a pleasant surprise, he couldn't help the grip of ecstasy over his body and Dean's lips pulled into a smile around Castiel's rock hard erection, just before climax.
Cass' hips bucked up with the sensations, sharp exclamations leaving his dried out mouth. He could feel the edge where he'd plummet into an orgasm fast approaching, the build-up driving him insane. Then it hit, his throat felt scratchy as he cried out again, this time much louder. His body is wracked with the ecstasy, legs flexing and closing in on Dean's shoulders.
As it subsided, Cass watched to see what Dean did with the new taste in his mouth, his eyes half-lidded in curiosity.
Dean's mouth was flooded with the warm, semi-sweet fluid. Just as he was unprepared to approach, he hadn't the slightest on how to proceed now. If he knew anything, there was nothing less attractive than a spitter. Dean sloshed the cum around in his mouth, getting a better taste for it, as if he were memorizing it, before swallowing. He watched Cass watch him, and he felt another rush of blood head south.
Cass clumsily grabbed at Dean's shirt, tugging until his partner climbed up to meet him in another kiss, just as passionate as the last. He ran his hands up the inside of the cloth, feeling the hardened muscles beneath. A smile curls up the edges of his mouth as he gets to know the firmer flesh, desire growing in him quickly. His hands trace the defined creases to the folds of Dean's jeans, deftly undoing them one more time. Cass hooks the edges of the shirt Dean's wearing and pulls it over his head, to match himself.
Cass lifts his arms and wraps them around Dean's neck, pulling him into another kiss, pressing their bare chests together. The kiss is hungry and desperate, and as Dean kisses back, pushing and possessing, he grabs at Cass out of pure need, out of a desperate desire to be closer with him.
Castiel is entirely naked and now so is Dean, the angel squirming beneath Dean's warmth for more contact, more of Dean for himself. He trails kisses down Dean's jaw and neck, licking at his collarbone. If Dean was offered the choice to stay that way forever he would've gladly taken it, to have everyday be filled with this sort of passion and need for another living person.
Cass raises his head again, his eyes showing much more than lust in that private moment. The two lock gazes and what Dean finds there in Castiel's eyes sends a shiver down his spine. The angel stares into Dean like he can see his soul; adoration and an unyielding love define his gaze. Cass wants Dean, body and soul, for all eternity. Every version of Dean must belong to every version of Castiel, and vice versa.
This was a deep and profound expression of need and trust. Dean was stunned.
Cass knows how hard Dean is, he can feel it pushing against him like a sharp reminder. Not that Cass needed a reminder, he intended to get what he wanted, and he wanted Dean to fuck him. He nuzzles his cheek against Dean's, scratching him lightly with the unshaven stubble.
For a moment Cass' appearance seems to flicker, but he remains in the same spot as he had before. However the difference now is that he has a bottle in his hand, one Dean might recognize as lube. Cass' eyes remain fixed on Dean's as he slowly shifts his hips to a more desired position and opens his legs wider. A pleading look on the angel's face only added to his appeal as he nudged Dean's hand with the bottle, urging him to take charge again.
Dean eyes the lube, wondering briefly what he was supposed to do with that before realizing Cass' intent. Dean snatched the item from Cass' hand and quickly set to prep work. One precluding finger, cold and moist from the application, probed at Cass' entrance hesitantly before pushing in. Slow exploratory movements defined the first moments of Dean's digit intrusion before a second joined. Dean worked the tight anal muscle loose before entering a third finger.
Castiel moans ardently, bucking at the feel of all three of Dean's fingers pressed inside him. Dean's being so gentle; for Castiel who's had a dick shoved inside him before, several times, it's kind of cute. He whines impatiently now, wanting all of Dean, all at once. His legs rhythmically squeeze the form just slightly lower than him, still prepping him for penetration.
Pulling his finger out and placing his hand down on the bed for support, Dean looked up to Cass quickly, checking if this was right. He found no reason to believe otherwise, and pushed deep into the soft flesh beneath him.
Dean's gaze tells Castiel he's confused or a little nervous. Cass knows Dean's done anal, there's no way he wouldn't have, right? Someone so tough, so masculine certainly would have done it by now.
Castiel tried to keep himself at bay, no need to get overly excited in the first thrust. However Dean was bigger than he was used to, and much harder. Cass let out a shrill cry as he's suddenly filled, his body shuddering with the tingling pleasure that coursed through him. His legs wrap around Dean's waist instinctively, using their strength to pull himself closer with each downward push to get it deeper.
A low, exasperated breath escaped Dean's lips as he buried his full length in Castiel's squirming form. It felt so tight, so good. It took a great deal of control not to thrust away with reckless abandon. Dean tried to take it slow, tried to ensure Castiel was alright with this. 'Of course he is, he asked for it.' Dean took the mental cue and picked up the pace.
The slower pace was torture for Castiel, his back arching desperately as his pleading whimpers increase. Then suddenly he's pounded repeatedly, Dean's picked up the hint. "AH! YES!" Cass screams along with several other expletives, "Harder! Harder!" He demands though the tone used implies pleading. Cass lets Dean slam into him, listening to the slapping sounds of their skin making contact.
Cass feels himself harden again, full and heavy, ready to blow one more time. He bucks his hips in rhythm with Dean, his fingers clawing at the larger man's back as his prostate is pummelled mercilessly. "Ohhh Dean... I'm gonna..." he moans breathlessly, "I'm gonna come again... Ah! Dean!" Cass' head flies backward, ramming into the sheets as his hot, sticky release soaks the space between them, their chests rubbing together in it. His muscles spasm as he rolls through his ecstasy, eyes falling behind his eyelids.
It's over, they're both spent and laying in a messy heap but they're both happy. Castiel smiles warmly under Dean's weight, his arms protectively around his alternate boyfriend. "You're amazing," he whispers, exhausted.
The door swings open and a distinct 'Oh god' is heard before it's quickly shut again, fast and heavy footsteps retreating away from the motel. Castiel laughs before rolling his head to the side, time to sleep.
Dean's eyes rolled to the door, but he was simply too tired to care. Sam had caught them, simple as that. His baby brother would spare no expense in poking fun at Dean's sexuality, especially considering his long history of homophobia. Whatever, it was better this way. "Serves him right," Dean mutters absently. He wraps his arms around Cas and drags them both further onto the bed so they could collapse into sleep. Tomorrow would be filled with painting a bull's eye on their backs and waiting out an Echidna attack, but for now, blissful, satisfied, sticky sleep was the oh-so inviting present.
Morning comes and Dean is pleasantly surprised to find Cas still unconscious in his arms. The guy had so much energy last night it was almost tough to keep up. He was really into it, and so vocal. Dean brushed some stray locks of mussy hair back and admired Cas' slumbering face. He looked so peaceful, not at all like he should be fighting a war to save the Earth.
It dawned on Dean that they could be in some real trouble. Without Cas, who would stop Raphael? What was stopping that dick of an angel from popping the box and releasing Lucifer and Michael back onto the Earth for an apocalyptic battle royale? The last of Cas' forces were probably being snuffed out without him there and the consequences of his actions would probably make themselves known soon.
But there was nothing that could be done about that until it hit them, and the Winchester brothers would deal with it like they always did, or go down swinging. Dean slid out of the bed and headed for the shower –they had work to do, and his morning-after etiquette was sorely lacking from years of fuck-and-leave activity.
Showered and dressed, Dean placed a call to Sam, "Hey, where the hell are you? We've got work to do. And I'd say we'd meet at the record shop... only you have my car."
Sam had answered immediately and waited for Dean to freak out, "Cool your jets, Dean. I'm outside the motel in your damn car." He groans as he sits up, his limbs stiff from scrunching into the backseat. He's used to sleeping in the Impala, though it just never gets any easier.
"Well you could've just said so," Dean huffed into the receiver, as though Sam were supposed to know these things.
Moments later he's walking lazily into the room, his hair a mess and eyes half open. With a yawn he wanders straight to the bathroom, not looking at the mess on the bed.
Cass stretches sleepily; his slender form shuddering slightly from the spasm of his waking muscles. He sighs happily, his hand drifting over the sheets for the other body that's supposed to be there. It isn't. He sits up abruptly, "Dean?" he isn't used to the 'fuck and leave' mentality, Dean's always there the next morning, always. He spots his lover across the motel and relief falls over him, "Jerk!" Cass calls out, throwing one of the pillows.
Dean flinched when the pillow hit him, if for no other reason than surprise. He looked back at the bed a took a moment to realize his folly.
"Can't stay in bed 'til I wake up after our first time?" He frowns playfully, "Or maybe wake me when you get up? Maybe I wanted to shower too." He crawls from the sheets and darts across the room to Dean, wrapping his arms around the man's broad shoulders and kissing him passionately, not caring he's still naked. "Good morning." He whispers sweetly, nuzzling Dean's cheek.
Dean's not sure he can take all this as 'playful', Cass' attitude. The pillow is fun, the naked scramble across the room raises an eyebrow and something a little lower, but this all seems far from Cas behaviour. Dean shrugs off the nagging feeling and kisses Cass, "Good morning."
"AH! Damn it guys!" Sam shields his eyes after waltzing back into the room, "Blankets, for pete's sake, blankets!"
"Sorry Sam," Cass giggles as he trots into the bathroom, "Dean I need clothes again!" He shouts after closing the door, "Get me some, please?"
Dean can't help but smile at the unashamed naked saunter of his... he dare not say partner, and lover seemed off too. Whatever Cass was too him, Dean was really liking it.
Sam sighs and looks at Dean, he's not sure what to say yet but he decides to settle, "So, you and Cass huh? Cute."
Dean thought he would've put a little more thought into what to say to Sam, he'd known it was coming long enough, but no retaliation was ready. Dean just looked at Sam, "What, you didn't know?" That ought to throw him for a loop. 'Keep the jokes coming.'
"Not really," Sam admits, half ignoring Dean's attempt at comedy, "I didn't see you as the... well, type I guess." He packs up and gets ready for the day, fighting a half-snake woman may end up being the highlight of his day after so much exposure to naked men.
With his refreshed arm candy in tow, and poutily seated in the back once more, the group set out to the record shop. "So, how many of these things do you think they produced?" Dean shot to Sam, back on the job. He really didn't want to ignore Cass, but this wasn't his thing. "They'll definitely have some left... seems like a real waste, spending hard earned cash on this crappy music."
Sam smirked, "Yeah well we can't exactly steal them, Dean. I mean, bands have to make money too, even terrible ones."
Cass sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and staring out the window. This wasn't exactly his scene though he enjoyed just being around Dean, which was supposedly worth it. Supposedly, assuming the guy wasn't ignoring him.
Without fail they buy the shitty CD and find a decent, out of the way place to dispatch the monster that will soon be after them. Sam had double checked that no one else bought it that day before walking out the door; it'd suck to know that they weren't going to be the first targets after it was too late.
'A decent, out of the way place' meant an empty warehouse down by the docks where they dropped the CD case in the middle of the room. "Now what?" Cass muttered.
"We wait." Sam replied easily, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"I freaking hate waiting," and what Dean said was true –he was in it for the fight, and the stakeout always killed him. He remembered first waiting for Castiel to arrive, anxiously poking at the table beneath him with Ruby's knife, nagging Bobby as to the results of the summoning incantation. And then there was Cass, in all his inhuman, awkward glory. Eyes fixated, mind purposeful.
It didn't take long; the beast had grown greedy after feasting so often in the past week. Sam's ears burned when he heard a sound that resembled something dragging itself across the floor seamless, like a snake. He glanced at Dean and mouthed 'it's here', his eyes shifting to the side of the room he was sure the noise came from.
Dean nodded his understanding to Sam, and double checked the shot gun in his hands. He looked around the cave, silent and waiting. Finally, they get to kill something.
As expected, a half-woman, half-snake creature was visible now. However she was directly behind Castiel, who was oblivious to its position. "CASS!" Sam shouted, his gun snapping up and aiming above at the much taller, much larger monster behind him, not hesitating to shoot.
Castiel let out a short shriek as he ducked and darted forward, spinning on his heel to see the beast that seemed to take a liking to him.
"Cass! Stay down!" Dean shouted directions like orders, booking it past Castiel, concerned to whether the girlish shriek indicated any sort of harm. Dean's eyes narrowed at the snake-woman, and found himself unwilling to crack a joke at her naked torso, or even admire it. "C'mon, you ugly bitch!"
At first, Cass stood and watched the Winchester's attack the thing, ducking and mostly avoiding the fight. Yet again, Castiel forgot he could use his angelic prowess. He smacked his forehead, sliding his hand down his face, "Der..." He mumbles before running back toward Echidna, his eyes flashing white for a second as he reached into his grace.
Sam shields his eyes as a bright light blindingly fills the room, when he lowers his arm he sees that the beast is dead, a darkened silhouette where it used to be lined the floor. "Wow, thanks Cass."
Castiel sighs lightly, "You said it, wow." He laughs a little; he hasn't come across many monsters like this, only demons. Though demons are hideous creatures, so he isn't terribly stunned after his first monster introduction. "Sorry, I tend to forget I can do that."
Sam smirks, "Yeah, would've been useful before we wasted ammo."
"Shut up," Cass sneers playfully, waving his hand at the younger Winchester.
"I can't believe you just wasted that thing," Dean lowered his gun, forgetting that Cass 2.0 is still an angel, and not just some slim sex-crazed thing. Dean was fairly certain that he should never say that to Cass' face.
"So... I guess we need to research this dimension swap now huh?" Back to the research. Sam did the books, and even though Dean was fully capable of spending several hours in a library –and had done so on more than one occasion; it didn't make him like it any more.
Cass nodded, "Yeah, looks that way." He had no idea where to start.
"I'll call Bobby." Sam mutters as he pulls out his phone, hitting a single button; Bobby's on speed dial.
As Sam spoke to the older hunter and Dean bemoans the idea of researching; Castiel feels a light gust of wind. "Hello, Castiel." He spins around to see a man in a suit, smiling down at him. "Raphael sends his regards."
"Raphael?" Cass manages to sputter out before the angel across from his lashes out with a sleek white blade. Castiel screams as it makes contact, despite his move to dodge it. The gash across his chest isn't fatal but it isn't healing immediately either.
Sam looked up from his phone call, "Oh fuck me..." he muttered, fumbling over himself for a weapon. There just has to be some love in the world for him, just has to be. He remembers the holy oil is outside in the trunk of the car and he's out the door in a flash.
Castiel kneels on the ground, lucky for him the angel has a boastful and prideful side, he hasn't aimed to hit the trembling form a second time yet. "I've made a mark on the great Castiel, you aren't so tough."
"CASS! NO!" Dean bolts, weapon or no weapon, plan or no plan. While Sam's mind kicks into high gear, Dean's heart feels like it's been fed through one. This Cass may have wasted an Echidna, but he wasn't up for any of this angel war crap. Dean remembered dreading this last night, thinking he'd wait for it to come to him. He was painfully unaware that it would attack this Cass. Dean drops to Cass' side, between the wounded angel and the attacker.
Cass has never been injured in this way before, something has cut down to his core, scarred his soul. Tears are in his eyes as he scrambles backward, no amount of attacking hurts the angel above him and Cass doesn't own an angel blade. "Dean," he whimpers in a mess of pain and confusion, he doesn't understand what this other angel wants or who he means by Raphael. "Dean help me..."
"I'm already here baby," Dean hushed Cass, checking the injury left by the angel blade. Any contact Dean had seen made in the past usually insta-nuked the angel. Such a gash across Cass' chest without death was a miracle. Despite the good news, Cass was still a pained mess, and he looked absolutely terrified. Dean held Cass tightly, protectively.
"You sonofabitch," Dean spat at the feather-fluffing angel. "He's got nothing to do with this! Can't you angels tell what's what? This guy isn't in a vessel!" Dean glared, part of him hoped that this would put the angel off balance, or at least make him a little uncertain. But really, any angel hanging out with the Winchesters was suspicious.
Outside...
Sam fumbles in the trunk of the Impala, finding the jar of holy oil after a gruelling minute. 'Please still be alive in there.' He thinks as he darts back inside, splashing the fluid onto the suited man and throwing a lit match.
The angel burns up instantly but he leaves behind an unpleasant reminder; Castiel is fighting a war and has a price on his head.
Author's Note:
Okay so again, thanks to everyone for the support :) Your reviews always make my day XD I noticed that there are even people reading the first PMA in order to get to this one! Exciting!
If you're wondering, yes we pulled this hunt out of our asses and yes it sucks so please don't take it too seriously XP
I feel an ending approaching, any hands up for a part 3? Let me know :3 Because there is an idea for one
[And again, apparently matsu doesn't like the length of this chapter even though you guys seem to enjoy it :/ I'm sorry Matsu but wth do you want me to do! There were't many good spots to cut it off! Someone send Touta Matsuda a message for me and tell her you agree with the length so I stop getting yelled at :(]
