*MY MUSE IS BACK! CONFETTI! IT'S A PARAAAADE!

"This is not a dream that I'm living

This is just a world of your own

Took me from all that I knew

Showed me how it feels to hope

With you with me facing tomorrow, together, I can learn to fly

Feels like I'm living in a lion's mouth

…But the lion is an angel."

~Lion by Rebecca St James

"Thank you all so much for coming, it is a great honor to have you all here," Cass began, standing on a raised platform.

Beside him, Dean added, "You can all only imagine how honored I am to be here, able to say this beautiful man is my boyfriend. And there's the added bonus of getting to fuck him…"

Castiel smacked a palm to his forehead, mortified. He really couldn't have chosen someone a little more classy, could he? A few people in the room (Gabriel and Jimmy in particular) erupted into laughter, amused by Dean's directness, Castiel's mortification, or both. Crowley leaned against a nearby wall holding a glass of Craig, smirking up at the pink cheeked photographer. Cass glared back at him with a look that clearly said, You're supposed to be on my side, asshole. Crowley read the look easily and his smirk only broadened at it.

"Okay, thank you Dean, I'll take it from here," Cass said quickly, elbowing his lover sharply in the ribs.

The rest of the party was simply magical. Of course there were people there to ask questions and take photographs given that Dean and Cass were everything short of famous in New York, but to them it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Castiel found that he got along marvelously with Sam, also learning that his sister and Gabriel lived with the Winchester brothers. Anna picked nervously at her nails when this was mentioned but Cass was too busy talking to Sam to notice. The photographer didn't know how long Anna had been living there.

"Congrats on tying Gabriel down, Sam, I never thought I'd see the day when he settled down with someone," Castiel said, leaning back in the armchair adjacent to the taller Winchester's.

Gabriel came up behind Sam with a grin. "Oh he ties me down quite frequently. Don't ya Sammy?"

"I could have went my entire life without hearing that," mumbled Dean, who leaned against the arm of Cass' chair.

Castiel laughed softly and reached behind him, his fingers lacing together with Dean's. "You'll live."

Dean leaned down and kissed his boyfriend, playfully tugging at the messy locks of hair. "Yeah, guess I will."

"Get a room!" Sam groaned.

Crowley walked over, watching the couple with amusement. "Winchester, I need to borrow your date."

"I charge fifty bucks an hour," Dean retorted. "And if you break it you buy it."

"Dean!" Cass cried exasperatedly, standing up. "I am not for sale!"

Dean smirked as Crowley led the photographer off, green eyes twinkling with affection. Castiel smiled and nodded politely to the people that greeted him as he passed, clutching Crowley's sleeve to keep himself from getting pulled into the crowd. Crowley looked, almost imperceptibly, a touch more rumpled than usual. The tie was fractionally askew, and his short hair was a little ruffled. Castiel narrowed his eyes. What on earth had he been up to? Cass generally kept his nose out of the man's personal life, but he'd never seen Crowley look anything less than perfect.

"I'm going to talk, you're going to listen, and don't breathe a word of it to another soul. Understood?" asked the older man, pulling Castiel to the center of the room that had been turned into a dance floor.

Confused, Cass put his arms around Crowley's neck. "Crowley…"

"I'll take that as a yes." They barely even moved, more focused on the conversation than dancing. Crowley lifted Castiel's shoes onto his own to make it look like they were actually moving their feet. "I'm not supposed to tell you until it's finalized, but I have some unbelievable news for you."

"I'm listening."

Crowley looked more pleased than Cass could recall ever seeing him. "We're about to be very rich men, darling. Venice Garde is looking for a new head photographer for their magazine."

"And…?"

"And they want to meet with you next week to look over the cover shoot photos in person. They've looked into your work and want to interview you for the position. I was told that by one of the underling editors, all she has to do is clear it with the boss, but it might as well be a done deal."

"If you're playing a sick joke, I will kill you."

"It's not a joke."

Castiel could barely believe it. He was a freelance photographer with his own business, but working for an up and coming magazine as the head of their photography department? It was everything he'd worked for. Ignoring the reservations he had with the man, he excitedly threw himself at Crowley in a bruising hug, more grateful than ever for his snarky manager/assistant. Crowley mumbled something about things getting maudlin but still hugged the smaller man back. Cass pressed his face into Crowley's shoulder, catching a whiff of his cologne and…hold on. What else?

There was a smell lingering on his waistcoat that was definitely not Crowley's. Castiel knew what cologne he wore, it never changed…but the scent of a second fragrance clung to him, something both foreign and distantly familiar. Cass knew that smell but couldn't put his finger on it. It was a cologne of some sort, but definitely not Crowley's. He would have simply assumed that the man had been fooling around in a back room or something had it not been for the nagging familiarity tugging at the deepest recesses of his brain.

"Remember, tell no one. Not even Dean. I wasn't supposed to tell you yet," Crowley reinforced.

Castiel nodded distractedly, stepping out of Crowley's personal space. "Of course. Not a word…"

He trailed off, disappearing into the crowd. What was that godforsaken smell?

Dean leaned against the bar, talking to Anna. "So, why didn't you tell Cass you were here? He talked about how much you love this place, like you didn't live here."

"I didn't. Until recently, I mean," she fumbled, "I haven't been here that long, really…"

"You've been here for almost four months, how is that 'not that long'?"

She tensed, folding her arms over her chest. "I just wanted to adjust, you know? Get a feel for the city and stuff."

"Anna, let me clue you in on something sweetheart. No one says 'and stuff' unless they're trying to lie. So tell me why you've been hiding from your brother."

"It's personal," she snapped harshly, shoving herself away from the bar and disappearing, leaving the loud clicks of her high heels in her wake.

Dean moved to follow her, but then he had an armful of wildly happy photographer. Cass threw his arms around Dean's neck, smiling and flushed with happiness. Dean was utterly confused but wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. He'd never seen Castiel this exuberant, this excited. Was he drunk? Did someone surgically remove the stick from his ass? Dean went through these possibilities and more as he chuckled, asking his photographer what had him so happy.

Castiel leaned back, not letting go of Dean's neck. "I can't tell you yet, but oh Dean it's fantastic!"

"Sounds like it," Dean laughed, kissing Cass softly on the lips. "I've never seen you this excited, and I include that time I fucked you over your kitchen counter. You got pretty worked up that morning."

"Let's go," Cass breathed, tugging on his lover's hand.

"We've only been here for an hour…"

Castiel pressed against him, sliding his thigh between Dean's and using it to massage the model's crotch. "Let's go."

"Okaaaahhh…" The end of the word was lost in a moan as Castiel applied pressure to his cock.

Dean didn't even say goodbye to Sam or the Novaks, he was too entranced by this eager, sex driven little creature dragging him outside. He wasn't familiar with his version of his boyfriend, but he could sure as hell get used to it. Especially when, as they drove back to the apartment, Castiel's hand crept over and began rubbing Dean's hard on. Dean bit back a moan, his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. Holy shit, what had happened to his shy, awkward photographer? Me, probably, he thought. But he hardly complained as those long, nimble fingers stroked him through his slacks.

"Cass…" The word was one long moan.

Arriving at the apartment was a blur. Castiel pushed Dean in, kicking the door shut behind him and stripping his lover with a speed and urgency that had a rush of blood filling Dean's cock. He made quick work of discarding the photographer's suit, stripping him bare just as Castiel had done to him. Their mouths locked together in a frenzied kiss as Castiel literally drug him down onto the living room floor. He winced in pain as his back hit the hardwood floor. Okay, bedrooms are overrated, I can deal with that, Dean decided. Both were achingly hard, making high noises of disparity as their erections pressed together. Dean was dizzy with how fast their clothes had disappeared and how Castiel had done everything short of throw him onto the floor. He slipped a condom easily over Dean's erection, having dug it out of the model's suit pocket.

Castiel straddled his lover's waist, but Dean grabbed his hips and held him still. "Hey, Easy, I don't want you to ohmyfuckingGOD…"

His sentence was lost as the photographer jerked his hips down, burying Dean's cock deep inside his hole. Dean threw his head back against the hard floor, gripping Castiel's hips and nearly coming at the feel of his dick forced up into that tight, unprepared heat. Cass made a noise of pain that quickly dissolved into a moan, his hands bracing themselves on Dean's shoulders. The model was new to this; he'd always been the one in control, or at least had some semblance of control, he had never been held down and dominated this way. And good God it was fucking incredible. He had been right all those times he'd looked at Cass and thought he'd seen something beautifully wild and dangerous hiding under the surface.

Castiel began riding Dean's cock in harsh, fast movements, rocking back and forth and clutching Dean's shoulders for all it was worth. Dean's back pressed against the hard, unforgiving floor as his toes curled in absolute ecstasy. His hands slid up his lover's back, over the knobs of his spine, nails raking lightly against the skin. They were both starting to sweat, the scent mixing with that of sex and wafting throughout the room. Cass gave a hoarse cry as his prostate was struck, his muscles tightening instinctively around Dean.

"Oh, ohhhh fuck," Dean moaned, fisting a hand in Castiel's hair and yanking it back.

Cass came completely untouched, his wild thrusting slowing to an uneven halt as he felt his orgasm surge through him. His muscles clenched tightly around Dean's cock, surrounding the model in a hot sheathe. Dean sunk his nails into Castiel's shoulders, screaming out as he felt pleasure like he'd never known pouring into him. His legs snapped up to bend at the knees, a broken scream torn from his throat. He had never…oh God he'd never felt this in his life. It wasn't a wave of pleasure; no, it crashed over him again and again, racking his entire body with its unbelievable intensity. His scream was cracked and guttural, a small rivulet of blood trailing down from the photographer's shoulders where his nails had broken the skin.

Finally, what felt like hours later, he felt like he was returning to himself. His body trembled with the aftershocks. Breathing forced out in hard gasps, he gently slid Cass off his cock and pulled his lover down next to him. Castiel's head dropped limply onto his shoulder. Neither could form anything even remotely coherent, their minds positively blown by the force of the pleasure that had been enveloping them only moments ago. Dean pulled Cass close, burying his face in the dark hair he'd been pulling, and exhaled a shaky breath. Despite how mindless their fucking had been, something now felt unnervingly intimate as he held Castiel's sweat and come slicked body in his arms.

He felt the photographer's heart hammering and looked down to find his entire body heaving with the effort it took to regulate his breathing. Dean tilted Castiel's head up to study him, finding him looking sated but shaking violently. Drying blood was crusted against a small mark on his shoulder, his hips were bruised, and he looked like he couldn't move (or breathe, Dean noted worriedly) if he tried. His body was lax in Dean's strong embrace as he tried to recover.

"Hey," Dean said softly, rubbing his photographer's back. "You okay?"

"Fine…" Cass breathed weakly.

Not believing him whatsoever, Dean eased to his feet, cradling Castiel close to his chest as he did. His body protested against walking as he started towards the bedroom, but he took one look at his lover and knew that Cass had overdone it. Just a week ago he'd been a virgin; he didn't have that much experience and it had resulted in him taking it too hard and too fast. He had thrown himself into it with a violence that had left him weak, shaking, and not even able to stand on his own two feet. Dean would be lying if he said his heart didn't jerk a little at how small and defenseless Cass felt carried in his arms.

"Stay with me," Castiel whispered as Dean laid him on the bed.

Dean peeled the condom off and flicked it in a nearby trashcan. "I shouldn't…"

"Please?"

He looked so small laying on the massive bed. So utterly dependant on Dean despite how assertive and dominating he'd started out as. His energy was drained, he was vulnerable, and he just wanted to be held. Dean could tell that much simply from looking at him. The model searched but couldn't find a genuine reason to turn him down, especially not when those blue eyes were so openly pleading. He had a feeling those eyes would be the death of him. Giving a soft sigh of defeat, he disappeared into the bathroom for a moment before coming back out with a damp towel, sitting next to Cass on the bed and cleaning him up.

"Thank you for staying," Castiel murmured.

Dean caressed the side of the older man's face, his voice rough with emotion when he said, "I'm not leaving you, Cass." Not now. Not ever. Tomorrow he planned to book a flight to Lawrence, and then he could be with Cass, nothing holding him back.

Castiel felt safe and warm in Dean's arms as they laid under the covers, his body aching. Bruises were forming on his hips, his shoulder hurt, and his entrance was thoroughly abused, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. And as amazing - make that earth shattering - as the sex had been, this was the part that he enjoyed most. His head on Dean's chest, the model's arm warm against his back as he held him close. Dean had been so obviously worried about him, quick to pick him up and carry him to his room, laying him on the bed with such tenderness.

It was so different than his first relationship. He could still remember the cruel blond calling him stupid, ugly, worthless…and even telling him how much of a pathetic, insecure sap he was for repeatedly backing out of sex. Worse still, the memory of his boyfriend pinning him down, holding his wrists above his head in a crushing grip that made him nearly cry in pain and fear. He had been so sure that he loved that man…and then there were the days his boyfriend started drinking, which grew more and more frequent the more Castiel was around him.

He could still recall their very first fight.

Castiel walked into his dorm, tired from a long day of classes. He dropped his bag beside the door and pushed it closed behind him, rubbing the back of his neck and blinking. Professor Mullins had been in a particularly bad mood today, taking it out on any student that dared use their vocal chords. Cass just wanted to collapse onto the couch with a good book for awhile before tackling his assignments. He pulled his reading glasses from his pocket and slid them on, plucking a well worn paperback from the self assembled shelves by the couch.

"Is that all you know how to do?" asked a slightly slurred voice.

Castiel turned around to find his boyfriend of seven months leaning in the bedroom doorway, a half drank bottle of cheap whiskey in his hand. "What are you doing here? I thought you were visiting Anna tonight." Their families were very close, the Novaks having known his boyfriend's family long before Cass got together with him.

Light blue eyes narrowed. "What, you don't want me here?"

"Of course I want you here, I was just surprised," Castiel said, sliding out of his shoes and curling up on the couch.

"Get up, Castiel."

Cass sighed. "It's been a long day, I'm just going to-"

Pain flashed white hot in his face as his boyfriend slapped him, his head jerking to the side with the impact. He blinked up at his drunk companion, hurt and confused. His boyfriend proceeded to say, "All I ever see you doing is taking pictures or reading some stupid book. And good God Castiel, haven't you ever heard of contacts? You look like a fool in those bloody glasses." With that, he snatched them off of Cass' face and dropped them, crushing them under a booted foot.

Castiel felt a prickle of fear, trying to run, only to be grabbed by the hair and thrown onto the floor.

He'd nearly panicked when he felt Dean's hand in his hair, but then he realized that when it wasn't being used as an act of violence, he loved the feel of his hair pulling back from his scalp and yanking is head back with it. Dean had finally allowed him to let go of some of the memories and the walls around his heart that came alongside them. He found himself no longer associating books with people calling him stupid and boring, someone touching his hair turned him on instead of frightening him, and the bruises on his hips didn't come from being hated and unloved…they brought back a pleasant recollection of fucking on his living room floor. Slowly he was learning how it felt to be cared for, to be held, maybe even to be loved if they made it that far. And he hoped they did…he didn't think he could bear to lose Dean, not after this.

Staring at his lover's sleeping face, he pulled himself closer to Dean and whispered, "I love you, Dean Winchester."