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Chapter Seven

"Touch Too Much"

Part II

At dinner things were weird.

There was a good twenty minutes where they couldn't talk. It was like going out into the real world made the reality of what they'd just been doing seem all that much weirder. What kind of fucked up Bucket List/Pretty Woman arrangement did they have going here? Could people tell? Was it palpable? It felt so to them.

Castiel could literally feel the constant shifting in Dean's mood from across the table. Dean had been twirling his fork, staking a piece of food on his plate over and over, staring down at it with hard eyes for twenty minutes now. Castiel was watching him closely. He was starting to feel like maybe he'd made a mistake by asking for this, by wanting this in the first place; he was starting to worry that Dean was regretting it. "You look mad," he stated quietly, looking away so he wouldn't have to meet Dean's eyes.

"Yeah," Dean grumbled.

Castiel's shoulders fell almost imperceptibly. "At me?"

Dean's eyes shot to Castiel's, "No. Why would you think that?"

"But you are mad?" he asked, not answering the question.

Dean got that shifty-eyed look he does when there's something heavy on his mind he's uncomfortable talking about.

"Tell me," Cas demanded, sounding like his old self.

Dean sighed, pretending to be irritated he had to say anything. He didn't look at Cas as he said, "It's not fair, that you're...you know." He couldn't say dying. "I want you to stay. I think...I think you're my best friend."

"But Sam-"

"Sam and Bobby are family. Sam - he's my little brother. He's been my everything all my life, you know? We're blood. You and me, we're just..."

"Friends?"

"I don't think I've ever just had a friend. Not like what I have with you. And I can't stop thinking that there's nothing I can do to save you-" Dean stopped abruptly when he looked up and saw an unexpected expression on Castiel's face - "What the Hell are you grinning at?"

Castiel shook his head and stared down into his plate, laughing quietly to himself. "You, Dean Winchester. Only you."

Dean's brow furrowed in combined confusion and irritation. There he was spilling his guts and this guy was having a hoot. "Laugh it up, jackass," he muttered to himself.

After a pause, Dean dared a glance at Cas again. He was still smiling like a jerk.

"You make me very happy," Castiel said taking a bite of his food, continuing to smile down into his plate. There was a quiet moment where Dean let that sink in, just watching this once all-powerful being sitting across from him in a diner booth. Cas added in that tone, as if it should go without saying, "You are my best friend as well. Obviously."

When they got back to the motel, it was a little difficult for Dean to get started up again. He was too in his own head. He felt awkward and like he had something to prove, but didn't know how to go about it. Castiel, on the other hand, seemed to have had the complete opposite transformation. As soon as the motel door had closed behind them he was in Dean's face, invading his personal space with a smirk, leaving quick pecks on his lips and neck. He let his hands go wherever felt natural - Dean's arms and shoulders, his back and even up into his hair. And as Cas' kisses backed Dean up into the door as he pressed into him.

Suddenly Dean couldn't handle it. He pulled away abruptly, looking at Cas with vexation. "How are you so comfortable right now?" he said, almost angry.

Cas smiled, the act coming more and more easily every time. "I want this. I no longer see any reason why I shouldn't. I suppose," he chuckled to himself, "it's been a long time coming. Thousands and thousands of years, actually."

"Right," Dean looked away, "No pressure."

"I have no expectations."

"Sure," Dean said sarcastically.

"I'm just happy to be here." And that was the truth. It was obvious. "Take off your shirt," he demanded suddenly. Dean was a little taken aback, he raised his eyebrows at Cas. But Cas only looked at him expectantly. Dean did as he was told, throwing the shirt somewhere off to the side and standing there in front of his best friend shirtless with the weight of this whole situation sitting heavily on his now bare shoulders.

"Well..." he started awkwardly, "this feels totally normal. Not weird at all."

The longer Cas was human, the more he understood how Dean used sarcasm as a buffer between himself and any kind of vulnerability. It was funny in a way, how he'd managed to displace this man from his comfort zone so easily. It almost made him laugh, and Dean didn't miss that. The Hunter rolled his eyes at Castiel's obvious amusement.

"As long as you tip me well you can laugh all you want."

Castiel didn't understand that statement any more than to know it was another joke. He smiled at the Hunter while he pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it over with Dean's. He looked at Dean's face, taking note of how desperately the hunter tried not to look at his body. Cas pressed his palm flat to Dean's chest, right over his heart. He looked at his pale skin on Dean's, liking the contrast to his perpetual tan. He brought his other hand up and flattened that to his chest as well, feeling how warm and solid the flesh was beneath his fingers. He slid his hands up over his collarbones, and up over the round of his shoulders to the crook of his neck. Castiel dipped his thumb into the hollow at the base of Dean's neck. When he glanced up at Dean's face he saw his eyes were closed, so he didn't move again until Dean opened them. He trailed his fingertips lightly down his abdomen, watching Dean's skin twitch under his touch. His hands went deftly to the belt and undid the buckle. He pulled the belt free from the loops and dropped it over by their shirts.

"This is what you do with women?" Castiel asked curiously, seemingly not nervous at all - unlike Dean, who nodded, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists. Castiel reached his hand up slowly to Dean's face, rubbing a curious touch along the line of that clenched jaw. Feeling Dean relax under that touch made Cas feel powerful, like he still had some magic in those fingers. He let them trail down Dean's neck and arms until they reached his hands. Castiel let his fingers pause, feather-light on Dean's knuckles. He felt Dean's hands slowly let go of their tension, opening up, and Castiel slipped his fingers between Dean's curiously. Both men stood there, looking down at their interlaced fingers, their minds racing. Castiel was overjoyed to feel the things he did, curious and experimental in his touch. But Dean's heart was breaking even as he saw the former angel smile - everything reminded him why they were here, why they'd been pushed to do this. Cas was going to be gone. It tainted every good feeling Dean had in a sudden overwhelming wave.

Castiel brought their hands up to eye level, his blue eyes sparkling as he laid their palms together, watching the movement that went with this simplest of sensations. He looked past those hands to Dean's face, wanting to see if he was feeling this as well, but his smile faded when he saw those green eyes glassy.

One streak of water ran down Dean's cheek and he hastily brought the back of his hand to his face wipe it, trying to turn away, but Cas caught his wrist and stopped him. Cas brought his fingers to the trail of the tear, feeling it, his head tilted to the side. Dean watched him closely, barely breathing. Castiel wiped the trail away with his thumb, then he leaned in and kissed the area, his lips soft on Dean's cheek. As he pulled away and their eyes met - within Dean some sort of levee broke. He pulled Cas to him roughly, kissing him like they really might never see each other again.

This was a new experience, the one that Cas had wanted from the start - this kiss was not slow and sensual and experimental as their others had been. It was raw passion. That's what he'd always wanted to feel.

And it didn't disappoint.

Dean pushed Cas to the bed and they fell onto it, kissing almost violently. He grabbed Cas' thigh and hitched his leg up over his hip, leaning into him. Cas responded by bringing both legs up to wrap around him, holding him close.

Dean was invading Cas' mouth, possessing him and gripping at him tightly. He rolled over onto his back, pulling Cas on top of him. Suddenly Cas could feel the hard line of Dean against his thigh and he instinctually rubbed against it, liking how Dean's breath caught in his throat. Cas' hands gripped into the sheets on either side of Dean as he ground his hips down into Dean's, living for every moment that the man's hips rose to meet him. Until suddenly Dean's hands gripped Cas hips in a steel vice-like hold, stilling them. "Woah, woah - wait..." he barely gasped out. Cas took in the sight of his face, flushed, eyes closed, taking some very deep very strained breaths as he tried to fight his body's desire to let go.

Seeing Dean about to be undone was too much for Cas, he wanted that so badly he didn't really care how hard Dean was working to keep it together. He leaned down, kissing his chest, running his hands all over him.

Dean moved his hands from Cas' hips to his wandering hands to stop them, but when he did Cas only began to grind against him again. Dean's hands flew immediately back to Cas' hips, having to hold him still, on the verge. "Damn, Cas-" he growled out. "You need to give me a minute."

"I want to see it," Cas said, his voice pure lust. "I want to see you come."

At that Dean stared into Cas' eyes, his green irises almost eclipsed by blown-out pupils. Then suddenly he used all his strength to flip Castiel over and pin him down, lying on top of him. He slid his knee roughly between Cas' thighs, spreading them, then settling between them as he kissed down the man's neck and chest. He undid the belt and nearly ripped it from the beltloops, throwing it out of sight. He undid the button and zipped open the jeans, and it was Castiel's turn to breath hard as Dean pushed them down over his hips. "Lift," Dean said, and Castiel lifted his hips off the bed allowing Dean to pull down the jeans and underwear. When he did, Castiel's cock sprang free and Dean wrapped a hand around its base. Cas trailed a shaking hand up and down Dean's arm as Dean pumped a few times, but Cas was ready to blow and Dean didn't want that - not yet. So he stopped.

Dean got off the bed and pulled Cas' remaining clothes all the way off, dropping them at his feet. Then he slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his own, not taking his eyes off of Cas, who couldn't take his eyes off of what Dean's hands were doing. Dean kicked off his jeans and climbed back on top of Castiel, who could only look down at Dean's cock in both fascination and utter wantonness. He reached down tentatively, checking Dean's eyes to make sure it was ok, and he wrapped his hand around it.

"It's hot," he whispered, "so hard..."

Dean was pretty sure Cas didn't mean to talk dirty, but he was doing it all kinds of right anyway and Dean's head dropped to Castiel's shoulder as he groaned. He reached past him to the nightstand to get what he'd stashed there earlier. Castiel watched as Dean slicked his fingers and reached down.

It was cold at first, and he flinched. Dean looked at him to make sure he was alright and he was, he wanted this. Dean watched Castiel's face as he pushed one finger in, seeing that mix of sensations. He moved slowly as he stretched him, wanting to be careful, wanting this to be all good for him; he wasn't sure how long, how much, they were supposed to do this because he'd never done it before, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt him. But by the time Cas was taking three fingers like a champ, Dean was getting impatient. He withdrew his fingers, seeing Castiel wince at the sudden loss, and rubbed his hand over his own cock, getting it slick. He noticed that as he did this, Cas' cock twitched, clearly he saw something he liked. Kinky angel...figures. Smirking at this, Dean leaned up over Cas, kissing up his neck to his lips. Castiel adjusted, getting comfortable and watched Dean like he was afraid to miss a single moment as the Hunter reached down and positioned himself.

"You sure?" Dean rasped out.

Cas huffed, exasperated, "You're asking me now?"

"Hey," Dean retorted, too sincerely for it not to be funny, "I'm trying to be a gentleman!"

Cas gripped tight at the hair on the back of Dean's head, "Don't." He smirked and it was pure mischief. He pulled Dean down, lips and tongues touching soft and wet and desperate.

Dean pushed into him, agonizingly slow, groaning into Cas' mouth and swallowing the man's stifled moan as the tight warmth invited him in. He sank in to the hilt, and Cas was grabbing at his back, leaving bruises. Dean looked down at Cas' face - his eyes squeezed shut, biting his lip. Dean ran a hand over the side of his face softly, and up into his hair. Cas slowly adjusted, and as he did he relaxed some, and the hand Dean threaded through his hair helped to sooth him. He opened those big blue eyes to see Dean looking down at him.

Castiel gave a quick groan and whispered, "So big..."

Dean couldn't even help but laugh and groan simultaneously - at least it was a very flattering cliche. His head dropped to Castiel's chest, "You don't even know how good you are at this," he laughed into his skin. The comment made Cas feel good despite not having any idea what Dean was talking about.

Dean moved slowly within Castiel, pulling out and then pushing back in and it only took a few times for him to figure out which angle was best for Cas, how to hit his spot. And when he did, the look on the former angel's face was intoxicating - he was surprised at first and then very, very pleased. It was all Dean needed to get him going, giving everything to every thrust.

Castiel finally understood the human obsession with sex; finally, it all made sense. And every time Dean pressed into him it felt better and better, and he could feel something building inside him, burning him up from the inside out and telling him he needed Dean closer, deeper. Something about moving together, sweating and breathing and making sounds they didn't want hold in made him feel more alive than he ever had.

It didn't take long for either of them. Dean reached down to pump Castiel as he pushed into him harder and harder. Cas came first, calling Dean's name and grabbing hard and desperate at his ass. Dean followed immediately, and Castiel finally got to see what he'd been wanting to see. Watching Dean's face screw up with pleasure was something he hoped he would never forget - it was base, and violent, and honest and vulnerable...it was beautiful. He reached up and ran his hands through Dean's hair as he watched the hunter come and then quiet.

When Dean was spent he breathed hard against Cas' chest, his weight resting on his elbows as he laid above him. Dean slowly and carefully pulled out and laid beside Castiel, who now mostly had his breathing under control. Dean was still breathing hard as he said, "Sex - check."

They both lazily pantomimed the check, and the synchronization made them laugh.

Cas smiled at the exhaustion in Dean's voice, liking that he did that to him. "I think I understand now why people go crazy over this," Cas told him.

Dean chuckled, "Not half bad , is it?" Then he stopped laughing and leaned up on his elbow, "Was it? I mean, was it everything your virginal heart desired..."

He tried to make light of it, but Castiel could see the truth, that Dean wanted his approval. And he kind of liked that. "Much better than anything I could have imagined," he stated plainly. But he saw Dean glow with satisfaction as he lay back and Castiel smiled to himself.

They had intended to go out and do things, but both men were so tired not only from their extracurriculars but from the emotional wreckage that had lead up to it that they'd simply fallen asleep. They were mentally exhausted and it felt nice to just pass out now that this was out of the way.

Dean awoke to find himself snuggled up to Castiel in a way that made him thoroughly embarrassed. Somehow in the night he had nuzzled into the crook of his neck, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest, a leg thrown over Cas' thigh. Dean was strangely comfortable though, and decided not to move right away. He thought about how Cas had a knack for facilitating his self-discovery; when Cas was around Dean was constantly learning knew things about himself that he never would have thought were true. Like this - he was usually the cuddle-ee, not the cuddle-er.

This is where it gets weird - the deed had been done. Castiel was not going to die a virgin.

So why were they still so eager to fool around?

They both knew that they should have been able to just do it once and then let it be. Go back to the platonic albeit unusual friendship they'd had for years. That was the plan.

But the plan was going totally off the rails.

Neither of them expected to wake up so comfortable with this, with each other, with the idea of doing this again. They'd had a perfectly legitimate excuse before - there was no way poor Cas could leave this world never having spent one night in the throws of dirty passion. No way. It was only right. ...Right? But that excuse was used up after last night's adventures. So what was their excuse now?

All of this was rampaging through Dean's mind even as his heartbeat and breathing elevated with the feeling of Cas' hand stroking him. He wasn't snapped out of his thoughts and one hundred percent into the present until he felt warm, wet lips. Dean's eyes shot open and his head shot forward as he looked down at Castiel on his knees between his thighs. His blue eyes turned upward to look at Dean as he took him into his mouth. "You don't have to..." Dean rasped, and was extremely relieved when Cas seemed to completely ignore him. For a beginner, he was doing a damn good job of it too. Cas was surprisingly sensual, sometimes a little aggressive, and Dean couldn't tear his eyes away. When he was about to come he gave fair warning, as was only right, and Cas did his best to swallow him down. He wiped his face with his sleeve and stood up between Dean's legs, watching him come down from his high. He was fast becoming addicted to that look on Dean's face and the intimacy these acts provided.

Both men deeply regretted having to leave this room ever, but they never would have admitted that to each other. They were thankfully able to behave as they always had, all semblance of awkwardness seemingly magically diminished. The ride home was comfortable and both men felt light of heart.

When they arrived back at Bobby's, to their knowledge they didn't seem to arouse any suspicion. It felt like yet another success.

It wasn't until later that something went wrong, when even as the sun went down the heat was sweltering, and Dean was drenched. He was just about done for the day with tuning up the Impala, and his brother came out and handed him a cold beer. Dean thanked him and pulled off his shirt to wipe off his face and neck.

Sam squinted at his brother, "Dude - Is that a hickey!"

Dean's hand sprang to his collarbone instinctively covering the mark, "What? No!" he denied.

"It is! So wait, you took Cas into town and promptly went and got laid? Did you hook up with some chick and leave him sitting there? Oh my God, did you get him laid? It wasn't like...a two for one special was it...?"

"What? - Sam! Just shut up! You don't even know what you're talking about."

"Oh, no?..." Sam smiled mischievously, "Why don't I go ask him?"

"Don't!"

"Why not, Dean? What are you afraid he's gonna tell me?" he teased. "That you two shared a hooker? Honestly dude, that's just..." he made an over the top disgusted face.

"We did not share a hooker." Dean looked as though he was going to explode and Sam was all too amused at getting a rise out of him.

"Well you did something because you both came back happy and sexed -" Sam stopped suddenly, something dawning on him. The look on his brother's face only confirmed his suspicions - they'd both come back happy and sexed...remove the hooker from the equation. Dean was scarlet-red, refusing to look at Sam, and swallowing hard. "Oh..." was all Sam could say, having figured it out. He was stunned. Joking about Dean and Cas eye-sexing and having man-crushes on each other was one of his favorite pass-times, but only because he never thought there was even a remote possibility it would really happen. But apparently, it had.

Dean immediately pulled his shirt back on and started bustling around finding great purpose in putting things away.

"So you guys..." Sam started. "Huh."

"We are not talking about this. And if you say anything to Bobby..." Dean warned.

Sam put up his hands in surrender, showing he had no intention of doing so. "I'm kind of impressed."

"Sam..." Dean's tone was warning.

"I mean, it's actually kind of nice of you. Good that it happened, I mean."

"Sam! What did I just say!"

"Right, right - not talking about it." A smile crept across Sam's lips and he quickly hid it away. "I just have one question," he gave Dean his best, most sincere puppy eyes, "...were you the top or the bottom?" His face cracked into an awful smirk and Dean reached over and punched him hard in the shoulder, nothing playful about it.

"Ow! Ow!" Sam said shrinking away from the hits, not able to stop the laugh from escaping his lips despite the pain.

They were done talking about it after that. Dean felt almost like he would be able to explain to Sam why this needed to happen. But he knew he'd never be able to explain why he couldn't stop it from happening again. And again. And then one more time in the car on the way back... He didn't tell Sam about any of that.