Here is yet another chapter for you all to feast upon and I hope you enjoy. I don't really understand why, but I got very emotional while writing this beginning portion… I dunno, most likely a combination of the words and what I was listening to haha.
WARNING – There is a brief section at the end that leans a little riskay. You have been told, so if that's not your thing THEN PLEASE DO NOT READ.
"Castiel," Sam uttered in a breathless gasp, watching as the angel spread his wings before all.
They were not quite what he had been expecting, honestly. Instead of thin feathers coating the formations, they were long silky white strands. Towards their end, they curved out and swirled around creating a beautiful sight as they did so. All of this would've been simply picturesque, if not for the situation that the beloved angel had placed himself. Ever heard of the expression between a rock and a hard place? Try between Dean and Verchiel's blade…
Castiel's ocean deep eyes were large and glossy as he looked down at the blood stained silver – the tip just barely poked out from his upper abdomen, slightly below his rib cage. A single crimson drop fell from the lengthened point, landing just below Dean's lower lip. Dean, who still lay on the ground, looked up in pure astonishment as red began to flourish over Castiel's white dress shirt. Verchiel, meanwhile, stepped hurriedly away from her colleague's body disgust evidently showing in her expression.
Suddenly, there came a loud thud of Bobby's hand slamming against the table on which an enochian banishing sigil was painted. Tiny droplets of blood flew as Bobby's hand smashed against the wood – Verchiel clenched her fists tightly, her face appearing to be in agony, as she was zapped away in a bright flash. Sam quickly examined the symbol Bobby had painted with his own blood on the table – it appeared to be just like any other one they had used in the past, all the same characters and such, except in the center was written the Arabic figure "ت". Eyeing it closely, Sam determined that it stood for the letter "v". Verchiel, he thought to himself. Turning back over his shoulder Sam watched as Castiel collapsed, falling into Dean's arms.
Dean wrapped himself around the angel, desperate to stop the bleeding. He leaned Castiel's limp head onto his shoulder, positioning himself so that he could get a better look at where the blade had entered. Seeing stuck in Castiel's back and pointing upward, Dean wanted to scream – it looked bad. Terrible, in fact. The hunter swallowed hard, letting out a deep breath in order to collect his own thoughts. Clenching his teeth tightly together, Dean gripped the still cool metal, murmuring into Castiel's ear, "I'm sorry." The angel made no response, but gripped Dean's jacket tightly as the hunter pulled the blade from his body. A new river of scarlet blood flourished from the reopened wound, trickling down the back of Castiel's trench coat.
"Jesus," Dean choked, watching as the small trail stained the tan fabric. Pressing a hand against the damp material, Dean imagined this being Sam in his arms instead of Castiel. He thought back to that long ago day when Jake had severed little Sammy's spine, leaving him to die in Dean's arms. Dean was unable to cope after that – it had driven to sell his soul to the pits of hell. It seemed an awful thought, but Dean couldn't help but wonder what he would be compelled to do if Cas didn't make it.
What if Cas doesn't make it? Dean thought to himself desperately. Suddenly, he felt his mind snap into action – he couldn't let Castiel die, he wouldn't. Moving as quickly as he could, Dean loosened the angel's tie until it came off. He crumpled it into a tiny ball, holding it firmly against the back part of the wound. He then flipped Castiel on his back, a quiet grunt escaping the angel's lips as Dean did so. The once prominent color that flourished Castiel's face, was now fading to a dull yellow-white, his eyes clouding ever slightly. Dean blinked vigorously, trying his best to keep the threatening tears at bay.
With one hand, he tugged roughly at Castiel's white dress shirt, popping open the buttons and revealing his bare chest. Dean had never seen his chest, and he had never imagined that this would've been the occasion for such an occurrence. He looked down at the wound, which had thankfully stopped bleeding, but the blood was still very caked around it. Gently, Dean laid a chilled finger against Castiel's warm chest making the angel jolt ever slightly. Weakly, Castiel raised a hand to grab Dean's arm. "Dean," he murmured, his voice barely audible. His delicate blue eyes sparkled with sorrowful radiance, and – was that a smile perking up on his lips?
As Dean saw just how peaceful the angel had come to be, he couldn't take it any longer. Letting down his emotional barrier, the hunter gave up his securities if at long last. A loud sob burst from Dean, salty tears flowing freely down his flushed cheeks. "Cas," he sniffed, choking on his own voice it would seem, "Cas, stay with me."
Castiel gripped Dean's bicep even harder, despite the strength he barely held within him. "I," he tried so forcefully to speak, but the words were as faint as ever, "I've w-waited so long, long for this."
Sam and Bobby still stood in the archway, too torn to speak or even move for that matter. Bobby had never been one to really express his sadness, yet he found himself crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Sam, at the same time, could feel dampness pricking his eyes. He couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but still he felt a tight constriction in his throat while his breathing became heavy. Suddenly, he jerked his upward, hearing Dean's agonized cry.
"Castiel!" Dean hollered desperately, "Please! I – I can't do this without you. Please Cas, don't go." The hunter sobbed on and on, cradling the angel safely in his arms.
Sam felt a single tear fall from his eye, drifting quickly down his face. Feeling Bobby squeeze his shoulder firmly, he turned away. Both he and Bobby thought it best to leave Dean in his last moments with Castiel alone and undisturbed. Shivers ran down Sam's spine at the thought that Castiel would no longer be with them after today. He would no longer use his voice in authority to get Dean to see "the big picture", he would never tilt his head in confusion, or even eat another hamburger which he so loved. How could an angel that had entered their lives only a year or so ago be gone so quickly? The one and only angel who actually loved Earth and all its creatures – especially man – in Sam's opinion.
Meanwhile hunter and angel still sat together, sprawled over the hardwood floor. Dean's tears were falling onto to Castiel's face, making it appear glossy and full of life once more. "Dean," Castiel whispered once more. Dean just sniffled, trying his hardest to keep from just screaming his lungs out into the hushed dusk. When there came no response from his hunter, Castiel tried again, "Dean."
This time Dean cleared his throat, "Yeah, yeah, I'm here Cas."
Castiel smiled at the words he was about to say, certain that now was the right time. "Dean Winchester, I – I'm happy to be dying here, here in your arms. I love you and, I, I think I always have. Always," Castiel sputtered, finding it difficult to annunciate all he wanted to say. Still, he was pleased with the words, glad that he was finally unafraid.
Dean's whole face went numb. No pain, no fear, no frustration – just nothing. Softness and purity if it had ever been felt. And in this moment, Dean could feel his heart wrenching with something he'd never felt so much in his entire life. He could feel love just booming out of Castiel and into him, and he never wanted it to stop. Never wanted the angel to leave his side. Unexpectedly though, amidst all the chaos and heartache Dean felt, a burning sensation began within his forearm. It was almost enjoyable at first, but gave way to a sharp pain that stung like a thousand needles being jabbed into him all at once.
Working quickly, he pulled his arm from one sleeve of his jacket to his shirt smoking and smoldering like it had only a few nights ago. Pulling the short covering up hurriedly, he found the handprint glowing a bright red. Then, as if the hand of fate had intervened, the strangest thought occurred to the hunter. Taking Castiel's hand in his own, he placed it atop the scar the angel had lift him with when embracing him in the jowls of hell.
Almost immediately a wave of immense energy passed between both human and heavenly host. Castiel arched his back, throwing his head back in desperation. He gasped loudly, both inhaling and exhaling in deep breaths. Dean meanwhile, clutched the fabric of Castiel's coat, willing whatever essence that was passing between them just to work on saving the angel. Silently he prayed – actually prayed – that God would just spare one person in his life. That only one freaking person could live without some terrible sacrifice having to be made. That that one person would be Castiel.
He held Castiel so tightly for so long, that Dean hadn't even realized how much time had passed. He wasn't exactly sure how, but it was as if he could feel the energy being pulled from his own body and being restored into Castiel's. Darkness began to creep into the corners of his vision, until all became black. Whatever happened next would be a secret only God, Himself would know.
Sam and Bobby sat atop an old broken down piece of junk under the calm twilight. There was still a pale mint green color lining the horizon, but overall a deep blue had settled across the cloudless sky. Bright shining stars were just beginning to emerge, a chilly breeze whipping across the land.
"So what are we gonna do about Cas – Castiel," Sam sighed, correcting himself by using the angel's full name. Somehow it just felt wrong to be referring to him with his old nickname.
Bobby cleared his throat, "Well, I say salt and burn, don't want any demons taking the body over. But really that should be Dean's decision."
"Yeah," Sam responded awkwardly, digging his hands deep into his jacket pockets. "I still can't believe he's gone though. I mean, he fell for Dean, he disobeyed. And for what? So he could be skewered by one of his own kind?"
"What are ya trying to say here, Sam?" Bobby furrowed his brow quizzically, "That Dean ain't worth savin'? That Castiel should've just stood in line and let the world burn?"
Sam sighed deeply, struggling to control the sorrow that was threatening to overtake him. "No Bobby, I didn't mean it that way," he sniffled somewhat, "All I'm saying is Castiel did so much for Dean, for all of us. And he never got anything in return – hell, he didn't even live to see the good guys win! How's that fair?"
Bobby patted Sam firmly on the small of his back. "What can I say? Life ain't fair kid – if it was, my wife would still be alive, you two idgits woulda never become hunters, and you and that pretty Jess girl woulda had the white picket fence."
Sam smiled somewhat to himself at the thought of living that apple pie life, as Dean had once referred to it. Was it really so long ago that he longed to pursue law? That all he wanted was to leave his hunting days behind? It felt like a lifetime ago – like it had never been a dream of his to begin with. But Sam was letting his own thoughts get away from him… "Still," he pondered aloud, "I just thought there would be more. That there would be room for at least a partially happy ending – a light at the end of the tunnel."
"Believe me, Sam," Bobby sighed wearily, "I think we've all been thinkin' that at this point."
A moment of silence pasted between the two hunters. Overhead, Sam could see a fiery meteor glide across the sky – it had been a long time since he'd witnessed a shooting star. Supposedly, if you wished upon one, your desire would undoubtedly come true. Sam had never believed much in the idea, but some hope didn't sound too bad right about now. So silently, Sam began to wish to himself – he wished that there was an end to this long and tedious road. He wished that there was more to life than just risking your neck and surviving on cheap rooms and crappy food. And above all, he wished that this peaceful future that he yearned so deeply for wasn't too far off. That maybe, just maybe, he could have the white picket fence after all with some unknown Mrs. Winchester. That thought in itself made the Sam smile to himself. Still, he also hoped that Dean too would find that happiness he seeked – whatever that may be.
"Guess we should see how Dean is," Bobby said at long last, "don't want him spending too much time alone."
Slowly both hunters arose from the hood of the car, turning to face each other. Sam looked deep into Bobby's tired, washed out eyes, noticing for the first time just how tired he appeared to be. There were deep wrinkles pulling at the skin surrounding his eye sockets, and Sam realized that this was probably the last thing Bobby needed on his plate. "Yeah," Sam responded quietly, beginning to head out of the salvage yard.
The two made their way through the back rooms of the house, coming on to a most peculiar sight as Dean came into view. There sat hunter and angel, both still alive and breathing if at all possible. Dean still held Castiel firmly in his arms, but his head was drooped over as though he had fallen asleep. Castiel meanwhile, rested peacefully – perhaps the most peacefully Sam had ever seen the angel – with his chin tilted downward, secure in Dean's grip.
Ever gradually, Sam knelt down to the feel the angel's vitals. There was indeed a pulse – not an extremely strong one, mind you, but still a heartbeat never the less. "He's alive," Sam uttered, glancing over his shoulder.
Amazed and in disbelief, Bobby was quickly at Sam's side feeling over Castiel's pulse himself. It was impossible – or at least that's what both hunters thought. How could it be? Pulling Dean's one arm away slightly, Bobby examined Castiel's wound – it was as if he'd never been stabbed. The only evidence that remained was a small scar, long, thin, and tinted white. Bobby's eyes traced along Castiel's arm, seeing as it still had a hold of Dean's forearm. He pulled the angel's palm from Dean's skin, a rather difficult task as a matter of fact. The handprint that remained on Dean's arm was very raw, outlined in a deep pink but the center a pale white.
Suddenly, as if Castiel's hand and Dean's arm had begun to mend as one, the handprint's center began to bleed out. At first it appeared only as if a scab had been pulled off a small scrape, but then deep red blood flowed freely from the new wound. It was astounding how much blood there was beginning to run down Dean's hand, so Bobby quickly ran out of the room to fetch a towel. Handing it to Sam, the younger Winchester hurriedly blotted it against the wound. "There's so much blood," he exclaimed, watching as scarlet began to spread over the white towel.
"Tell ya what," Bobby muttered, pressing the towel firmer to Dean's arm, "Why don't you get this one up stairs? I'll take care of him." He nodded at Castiel, who still lay asleep and oblivious to the current situation.
Sam moved over towards the angel, looking over exactly how he was going to do this. "Right," he said quietly in response, slipping his hands behind Castiel's back and under the nape of his knees. He grunted slightly as he picked up Castiel's body, frankly surprised at how much he weighed despite his trim figure. Ever gradually he made his way up the stairs, which was a long drawn process, and into the guest bedroom. Not meaning to, Sam roughly plopped the angel onto the soft mattress, letting out a heaving sigh in result. He pulled Castiel's legs into a straight alignment prior to fluffing the pillow that supported his head.
The angel's luscious eyelashes began to flicker, his eyes moving rapidly beneath his eyelids. Sam just stood there, his brow furrowed as he watched Castiel's disturbed rest. At last, eyelids gave way to a sparkling blue iris which held clarity never seen before – at least clarity Sam had never seen before. Castiel sighed deeply, a content smile spreading over his lips. "Cas?" Sam asked, crouching down towards the angel, "Are you okay?"
Castiel turned his head unhurriedly to face the younger Winchester, still bearing his pleased grin. "Yes, Sam," he replied simply, "I'm just happy he knows."
Sam was completely confused at the angel's response, curiosity flowing through him as a result. "Who knows what?" he asked, his voice very dim.
Cas's smile grew even broader at Sam's unawareness of the situation – quite honestly, he was thankful that Dean had kept any so called awkward confrontations just between them and had left the others out of it. He closed his eyes once more, resuming his head's position facing upward and away from Sam. "Dean – he knows," was all the more the angel said, exhaling deeply as sleep began to take him once more.
Castiel's answer still was a bother to Sam though – Dean knows what? He wondered to himself. As he let out a weary sigh and began to make his way downstairs though, he knew there were bigger things to worry about at the moment and the angel's little riddle would just have to wait.
Dean's vision was blurred an unfocused as his eyelids opened at last. He could see – what was that, a ceiling? As his sight came into focus, he could tell undoubtedly that he was lying on his back staring upward. All of a sudden, Sam's face entered his peripheral vision which startled the eldest Winchester.
"Geese!" Dean yelped, leaping back somewhat in the seat he rested in.
Sam comforted his brother, placing his hands upon his shoulders gently. "Whoa, whoa, take it easy," he soothed.
"What happened?" Dean asked, rubbing his eyes wearily.
Sam's brow creased in concern as he overlooked Dean. "You don't remember?" he pondered, puzzlement evident in his voice.
Suddenly, Dean's hazel's eyes widened as it all came flooding back to him in one spinning flash. "Cas!" he gasped, throwing the bed sheets off his warm body and exposing himself to the surrounding chilled air.
"Dean, Dean!" Sam hollered, grabbing a hold of his brother and keeping him back. Still, Dean persisted onward, attempting to make for the door. "Dean, just hold on a second!"
Dean braced Sam's forearms roughly, looking into his worried eyes. "Cas," he mumbled once more, "is he, is he alright?"
"Castiel is doing fine – Bobby has him resting in the guest bedroom," Sam responded firmly, directing his gaze right back into Dean's.
Almost immediately, Dean felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. All around his muscles loosened and his breath quickly returned to its normal pace. He resumed his seat on the bed, his face morphing into a combination of bewilderment and uncertainty. As he spoke his voice was very dim, barely grazing a whisper, "How – how was he saved?"
Quickly Sam pulled up a nearby chair, taking a seat next to Dean. "We were actually hoping you could tell us," he said, leaning in close. At the lack of Dean's response, Sam continued, "When Bobby and I came in, you two were out. Cas was just okay, but you're arm–," His voice trailed off. Dean hurriedly, pulled up the sleeve of his t-shirt, examining the thick white bandages that were wrapped tightly around the skin. A sharp pain surged through the muscle, as he laid a hand over the dressing. He grunted slightly at the ache. "Well don't go touching it!" Sam yelled, chuckling somewhat.
Dean resumed the shirt fabric over the binding, clearing his throat as his gaze returned to his brother. "Can I see him?" he asked after a moment, hesitation very clear in his tone.
Sam remembered back to what Castiel had said earlier – Dean, he knows. If Dean knew something that no one else knew, than perhaps it was best that he conversed with the angel to set things straight. "Yeah," Sam replied after a moment, "I think he should be awake by now."
Dean said nothing to counteract, simply arising from the mattress and making for the door. Slowly his feet shuffled across the carpet before touching the hardwood floor of the hall. It wasn't hard finding the guest room, seeing as Bobby's house was pretty much like the boys'. Gently he knocked against the partially cracked door, waiting to hear either an inviting or rejecting response. "C–," Dean heard a scratchy voice call. Clearing its throat, the voice tried again, "Come in."
Gradually Dean pushed the door open, stepping inside to find Castiel sitting snuggly on the bed. Sure, he wasn't snuggled under the covers or anything, that would be a sight, but he still looked comfortable. His blood-stained trench coat was draped across the back of a chair in the corner, in which Castiel meanwhile wore an old t-shirt Bobby must've pulled out for him. Dean had to admit, it felt odd seeing Castiel in that attire – he'd never pictured the angel in anything more than his holy tax accountant outfit. Still, he was just relieved at that fact that Cas was up and kicking above all.
"Hello Dean," Castiel greeted the hunter with his typical phrase, but this time there was something different about it. Something that was fresh and radiant, like hearing it for the first time. And how Dean loved the way his name rolled off the angel's tongue.
Allowing a grin to spread across his lips, Dean came closer to the bed. "Hey Cas," he replied simply, staring down at the magnificent angel. Hurriedly, Castiel scooted himself over somewhat, making room for his hunter. Dean promptly accepted this invitation, seating himself beside Castiel.
For a moment, utter silence filled in the gaps until it was just Dean and Castiel alone. Deep ocean eyes held the gaze of glowing olive for what felt like eternity – and this time, rather than breaking the stare, Dean never wanted it to end. At long last, reality came back once more, at which time Dean felt he owed some words to Castiel. "Cas," he began, his voice very hushed and broken.
Almost shamefully, Dean looked down at his hands, which were nestled in his lap. He could feel tears pricking to his eyes simply at the thought of what had occurred earlier just that day. The fact that Castiel had almost died right in his arms shook the hunter's very foundation. "Dean," Castiel whispered, "it's alright. Tell me what's in your heart."
Dean's turned his head upward once more, just loving the way Castiel appeared before him. "Oh Cas, I thought I was gonna loose you!" Dean exclaimed, wrapping his arms around the angel. Pulling Castiel in, Dean inhaled deeply breathing the wonderful scent of his hair. It smelled fresh, like the first spring rain after a long and rough winter. Bulging crystal tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over the waterline and onto his cheeks. As if racing against one another, the tiny tears sped down the hunter's face, dripping into Castiel's hair.
"I suppose it just isn't His time for me yet," Castiel mused, nearly choking on his own tears.
Dean chuckled somewhat at the blandness of Cas's response. "Apparently not," he cleared his throat, pulling away from the warm embrace. He ran a hand over his damp face, wiping away the salty remnants on his skin
"But Dean," Castiel sputtered, swallowing hard, "I need you to understand that I meant all I said. Nothing I whispered was spoken for the sake of easing the grief of my death."
Dean's brow creased at Castiel's words. "Cas–,"
"No," Castiel interrupted him, determines to get out whatever confession was trapped deep within him, "I do love you Dean. And I would've been honored to die in your arms. I cannot lie though and say that I'm not happy to be living here, with you, now."
Dean blinked vigorously, attempting to hold back any further tears that were surely to eventually come. "But – why me?" Dean asked after a long pause.
Castiel tilted his head in that adorable and innocent manner of his. "What kind of question is that?" he spat, "When will you understand Dean? There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. There is no line that I wouldn't dare to cross, if it was for your sake." Roughly, he gripped the hunter's arm just below the bandage.
Dean was speechless for a moment – all this, it was just so difficult to fathom. For the first time in his life, someone loved him. And not like a brother, or a son, or just as that hot guy to sleep with – no, Castiel was in love with Dean and wasn't afraid to admit it. All this time, Dean had been longing for something – anything – to fill the hole that was carved out from his soul, when really he'd just been avoiding the inevitable. He too cared deeply for Castiel, possibly loved, but was unsure how to take the first step. Suddenly, he desired to know just when Castiel had figured all this out. How Castiel – angel of the Lord – could learn to truly love before Dean could. "When did you know?" Dean asked breathlessly.
Castiel leaned back against the pillows in thought. For a moment he squinted his eyes, scanning over the room as if the answer were painted all over the walls. "Do you remember that night at the motel?" he asked at last.
Images of the two of them flashed through Dean's mind, as he remembered the exhilarating tingling sensation that had ran through his entire body when Castiel had kissed him. He smiled somewhat before murmuring, "Of course."
"It was then," Castiel stated simply, "when I had asked you what love was, that I realized I may indeed be in love with you Dean. And then, during our separation, my feelings were confirmed by other emotions and thoughts that I counteracted."
Dean just sat in silence for a moment – Castiel made it all sound so simple, when really it was but the contrary. He could his heart beginning to thump loudly against his ears at the words that were forming in his head. "Cas," Dean began ever hesitantly, "I don't know what to say. I, I know I feel something but you're gonna have to give me some time here."
Castiel leaned in closer towards the hunter, gently laying a chilled hand against Dean's ever pleasantly warm one. "Dean, I have given you much time already–,"
Abruptly Dean cut the angel off, "I know, I know, but I still need to figure things out."
Castiel waited patiently to assure that Dean was finished speaking. Once he was certain, he began again, "What I was going to say is, yes, I have already given you quite a lot of time already, but I too need to straightened out these emotions. This isn't going to happen overnight Dean, and I'm willing to commit as much time needed."
Sam meanwhile, wasn't eavesdropping but happened to hear dimmed voices as he passed by the guest bedroom door. Dean sounded pretty worked up, Castiel's voice as calm and considerate as ever. Rather hurriedly, he trampled down the small flight of stairs ahead of him, his palm sliding smoothly down the banister as he went along. Jumping off the tiny landing and skipping the last few steps, Sam nearly crashed into Bobby.
"Whoa, easy sasquatch," Bobby teased, surprised by the boy's energy.
Sam through the older hunter a dopey smile, quickly clearing his throat. "Dean and Cas are talking in the guest room," he said simply.
Bobby arched an eyebrow quizzically, "And?"
"Well," Sam glanced over his shoulder hesitantly before he continued on, "I think we oughtta give them some time."
Bobby nodded silently, stroking his hands lightly over his beard. "I have an idea," he replied at last, making his way over to a small end table which sat solemnly in the corner, "There's a neat 'lil bar on the edge of town, and damn if they don't make the best Bloody Marys around."
Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise at Bobby's statement. "Bloody Marys, Bobby? Really? I always thought you more of the 'get drunk off a six pack' type of guy," Sam chuckled somewhat.
Bobby retrieved a set of keys from the table's small drawer, tossing them into the air and catching them again with one hand. "Shut it there boy, let's hit the road!"
Reaching over towards the wall, Sam pulled his jacket from a peg of the coat rack before slipping it over his torso. He beamed a great smile, following Bobby out the front door and towards his truck. Once in a while it just felt great to leave the troubles of everything behind and be the Average Joe – even if it was only for a few hours.
Dean moved one side of the shabby curtains that covered the window away with his hand, watching as Bobby's truck pulled out of the driveway. In the dim porch light, he could see that Sam was with him which meant that he and Cas had the house all to themselves. Dean licked his lips, prior to digging his teeth in softly to the bottom one. He cleared his throat promptly, before turning back to face his magnificent. "So, I like you," he chuckled somewhat, "I have feelings for an angel."
"Indeed you do," Castiel smiled triumphantly, beginning to grow accustomed to how easily Dean was admitting the fact.
Dean rubbed a hand over his forehead, in which a slight sweat was collecting on. "So what now?" he asked simply, as if Castiel had all the answers – psshh.
Castiel placed a hand tenderly on Dean's shoulder, looking directly into his eyes. "Well, I firstly believe we need to have you become more comfortable in the situation," Castiel cleared his throat.
Dean could see that there was a slight sweat beginning to form over the angel's brow as well. Deep below in his jeans, Dean could feel a certain member of his harden, signaling the likely result of the evening. "And, um, how do we do that exactly," Dean sputtered, feeling color blossom to his cheeks.
"Well," Castiel responded coolly, eyeing Dean from head to toe, "why not let assure you?" Dean said nothing, but allowed his eyelids to dip closed as Castiel leaned in to envelope them in a passionate kiss. There was no tongue, no feverish saliva exchange – just simply and purely a tender kiss. As a matter of fact, it was probably the best kiss Dean had experienced in a long while.
As soon as their lips parted, however, that was an entirely different story. Dean felt a lustful desire like no other surge through his body, longing to feel Castiel all over. The angel, meanwhile, was very much willing to give in to Dean's desires, allowing the hunter to kiss his neck rapidly. They kissed in slobbery and quick exchanges, eager to wrap themselves fully around one another and become one flesh at long last.
I trust that this was enjoyable, the next chapter should be up within a few days ^_^
Thanks for reading!!