Waking up this time is much like it had been the day before. The sun is warm and insistent on Castiel's face, but it doesn't hold a candle to the heat that radiates from Dean's body. Dean had more or less carried him home yesterday, after the fireworks. Castiel hadn't been as exhausted as Dean had insisted he must be, but he hadn't had it in him to deny him. Not when Dean was so obviously thrilled to be his knight in shining armor for once.
And it wasn't all that bad, considering that, after Castiel made his intentions clear with a very insistent kiss, Dean, in turn, insisted on pleasuring Castiel, pushing down his advances every time he tried to reciprocate.
Dean is still asleep, chest pressed to Castiel's back, and judging by the smacking sound he makes, he's dreaming about food. But then Dean grumbles something under his breath and moves closer to Cas, pulling him back against his chest and Castiel realizes that Dean probably isn't dreaming about food.
"Cas you kinky minx." Dean mumbles, smacking his lips again. Castiel can't help but blush, even though he has no idea what exactly Dean is dreaming about. But it must be pretty vivid, because Dean's hands have started to wander lower on Castiel's body, skimming over bare skin.
"Dean?" Castiel asks quietly, not sure if the other is actually awake or still dreaming. Dean mumbles something incoherent and continues his quest to get Castiel as hot and bothered as he obviously is. His face is buried in Castiel's neck, and Castiel has a hard time reining his moans in when Dean starts nibbling on the skin there. Not that the hand that's skimming over his hips isn't also dealing blow after blow to his self control.
It's not that he doesn't like the advances, he'd just preferred it if Dean were awake. "Dean." He insists, louder this time, and the sudden jerk of the body behind him, tells him that Dean is finally awake.
"Cas?" Dean asks, voice sounding a bit hoarse. "Why am I fondling you?" Castiel doesn't need to see his face to know the frown currently etched on it.
"I believe you have been dreaming." Castiel informs him.
There's a short pause, and then, "Okay." Dean doesn't seem to be bothered by that revelation; on the contrary, it seems to give him course to continue. Castiel can't exactly say he is adverse to how his mornings seem to be playing out lately.
Not at all.
Whatever it was Dean had been dreaming about, it must have been igniting his fantasy. He presses Castiel down into the sheets, putting almost all of his weight behind it and Castiel is strangely aroused by that. It's like that time when he pulled Dean's hair and Dean retaliated by - and there is really no other way to describe it - fucking him thoroughly.
Who knows, maybe Dean dreamed of said hair pulling.
"I should be careful I suppose." Dean says, but his actions are almost in a sharp contrast. He's pulling Castiel's hands up and over his head, turning his body to lie on his back, using his weight to hold them down with one hand, while the other drags blunt nails down his chest.
"Yes, you should be." Castiel breathes, only to arch up a second later when Dean pinches one of his nipples.
"I can't seem to be careful with you right now." Dean's thumb digs into his sternum and Castiel gasps. He's panting already, and his cock is half hard, without Dean ever laying hand on it. "Cas." He growls, breathless and eyes wide with a deep desire that takes what little breath Castiel has left, away. "You make me all kinds of crazy."
"Dean." Castiel's chest is heaving, and if he could he would reach up to touch Dean's face then, but all he can do is smile up at him. The wound on his neck is throbbing, and he has every reason to insist on Dean being careful, but there is something about him that makes it so easy to forget that he's supposed to be careful. He doesn't want to be careful, he doesn't want to be responsible; all he wants is Dean. "Please."
Consequences be damned.
Castiel closes his eyes; he has to, the intensity in Dean's eyes is too much for him to handle. Sometimes he feels like Dean is the sun that threatens to burn him whenever he gets too close. Castiel has spent years living in the dark, facing the inevitability of death, and then Dean came along and now Castiel spends his time next to his very own personal sun.
Dean erases that - admittedly cheesy train of thought - by answering his plea and pressing his lips insistently against Castiel's. And maybe it's a good thing that despite his adversity to being careful tonight, Dean still stays clear of all the spots on Castiel's body that are healing. He kisses Castiel's neck, the side that isn't injured, grazing his teeth along the edge of the bandage, licking underneath and making a face at the taste of the liniment Castiel put on the day before. And he puts special attention to the area behind Castiel's ears, until Castiel is writhing and gasping and so close to begging it's frightening.
And still, Dean hasn't even touched him between his legs yet.
"Dean." Castiel rasps, pushing his hips upwards, hoping that Dean will take the hint, which, of course, he doesn't. His grin however tells a rather obvious story of how much he is aware of Castiel's desperation and just how much he enjoys playing with it. Dean moves his body out of the way so that Castiel's hips angle into empty space, causing a frustrating growl to fall from Castiel's lips.
And every time Castiel voices his frustration or tries to urge Dean on further, it seems only to add to Dean's enthusiasm to deny him gratification. Dean's mouth is latched to Castiel's nipple, has been for a while now and Castiel doesn't think it could get any more intense than that. He's losing his mind, hands clenched tightly together, where Dean still holds them down above his head.
Dean's fingers trail down over his belly, lightly, barely even a touch and still it has Castiel writhing. Dean has played with him for quite a while now, and at this point Castiel has become hyper sensitive to the barest of touches. He's no longer above begging, but Dean has yet to relent.
"You're beautiful like this." Dean murmurs, voice a hot breath over Castiel's sensitive skin. He flicks out his tongue and Castiel's vision fills with sparks for a second. He can't exactly see what Dean did to his chest, the view is blocked by Dean's head, but whatever it is; it has his nipples react to the slightest stimulation.
Maybe, if this goes on, Castiel might just come untouched. Dean sure would like that. And by the looks of it, that is what he's aiming for. Dean kisses his way down Castiel's stomach, following the trail of his hands, but he stops before he reaches the spot where Castiel really wants him. He licks into Castiel's belly button, as deep as it goes, and that doesn't actually feel as good as Dean probably expected, but it also serves to cool down Castiel's desire just slightly.
"Dean." He tries to wriggle out of his grasp. It's not that he doesn't enjoy this - on the contrary - but it's definitely time to move this along. Dean's teeth scrape over his lower belly, and it's almost enough for him to lose it again. "Please." He moans, cock throbbing painfully and very, very demanding.
"Don't play around." He tries to make it sound like a command, but it comes out like the desperate plea it truly is. "Just get on with it." Dean finally releases his wrists, a playful smirk on his lips, and Castiel doesn't waste any more time to pull Dean into the kiss he had craved for quite a while now.
"As you wish." Dean growls against his lips, dragging his teeth over them. Dean doesn't give Castiel the time to adjust to the change of pace, before he has him writhing on his back again. Castiel can't tell where Dean had hidden the lube (the one he bought the other day), but suddenly there's a rather cool and wet finger probing at his backside.
Castiel pushes his head back into the bed as Dean breaches him, gasping for air and trying, just trying to keep it together long enough to get to the actual fun. Dean would never let him live it down if he came now. Dean wiggles his finger and Castiel's voice almost gives out. Castiel thinks fleetingly that he should give something back to Dean, but he can't get his thoughts together long enough. And besides, Dean doesn't seem to be too bothered about his own pleasure right now. Not when he has a finger buried knuckles-deep inside of Castiel and is breathing hard just from that.
He's going half mad with desire by the time Dean deems him ready and pulls out his fingers. Castiel had felt ready minutes ago, but it seems like Dean is on a strict teasing agenda this morning. When he finally aligns himself and pushes in, it feels like something tight that has been lodged in Castiel's chest loosens and he just breathes in the sensation. Dean wound him up and now he's uncoiling and it is the best feeling Castiel can think of.
Dean is at the end of his patience too; the moment he's fully sheathed inside of Castiel and after Castiel has signaled his readiness, he moves. Not carefully gentle, not slow teasing, but fast and forceful, pulling out and slamming right back in before Castiel can even begin to prepare. His fingers dig into Castiel's hips, keeping him at the right angle and constricting any of his movements, but there isn't much he could do right now anyway. Dean has him at his mercy, and Castiel wouldn't exchange that for anything else.
Castiel is speaking, there are words falling from his lips, but he can't tell for the life of him what he's saying. It must be Dean's name though, because his green eyes are shining above him and even in his fucked out state, Castiel can see the love in them. Dean's eyes are wide, the green retreated to a mere rim, and there is some deep seated hunger in there, but the love underneath is undeniable. Castiel is blown away by the sheer intensity of it.
It doesn't take long after that; just a few rough strokes of Dean's hands and Castiel comes, quick and violent, with a shout on his lips that has his voice run hoarse. Dean smirks, all shiny teeth and mirth; his rhythm doesn't falter in the least and Castiel thinks he must go mad, because the intensity takes his breath away. His cock is spent, but that doesn't stop the pleasure from rolling through him in waves every time Dean thrusts into him. His skin is tingling, and all he can do is grab Dean and pull him down into a wild kiss, until Dean tenses; hips stuttering as he empties himself into Castiel.
Getting up afterwards seems like an impossibly arduous task.
Castiel wonders if too much sex could negatively affect one's healing process. His legs feel weak and getting up turns out to be quite the ordeal; he would have probably fallen flat on his face hadn't it been for Dean. Otherwise he feels good, just a bit exhausted, but nothing that a good meal can't fix. And to be honest, he could get used to Dean's special treatment. He has been taking care of people for so long, with no regard to his own well being, that it feels refreshing to be the one at the receiving end for once.
Even though it makes him feel kind of useless. And that's a feeling Castiel doesn't like at all.
That's also why he insists on making breakfast, a task that isn't exactly hard, considering that he only has to pull out some of the rations he packed and divide them between the two of them. That's probably also why Dean lets him do it in the first place.
"You have to stop babying me." Castiel broaches the subject while nibbling on a piece of cheese, the tart taste unfamiliar to his tongue after the richly decadent meals yesterdays. Dean looks at him, startled and a confused scrunch to his brow, like he hadn't realized that he had been doing it.
"Cas-"
"I appreciate it; I really do, but I'm not… helpless." Castiel throws up his arms, a gesture that he himself doesn't even know what it's supposed to convey. He has been enjoying the attention, no doubt about that, and part of him wants to revel in it forever, but he can't. He's a doctor, and while a short reprieve might be welcome, he ultimately is a caretaker.
"I know." Dean's face is open, all soft lines and smiles, but there is something in his eyes that is almost weary. "I know that Cas. It's not about that." He shrugs, helplessly. "I know you're not helpless." Dean's hands fall down on Castiel's, gently prying the piece of cheese from them and winding his fingers through his. "It's just…"
"Dean," Castiel interjects and squeezes his hands back. "It's okay." He smiles, trying for soft but it turns out more toothy than intended. "It's Sam isn't it?" He and Dean are the same after all. They're both caretakers; they both need someone to take care of. Dean frowns, confused, but then he comes to the same conclusion.
"We're quite the couple are we?" Dean chuckles, embarrassed almost. He rubs a hand over his neck, before he pulls Castiel in for a quick peck to the lips. "How about you let me coddle you until you're healed and then we're even for the time you've taken care of me. How's sound that?"
Castiel laughs, the sound surprising even him and he ducks his head. "I have to admit it's nice for a change."
"That's what I thought."
Breakfast does wonders to refill his strength, but he still decides to refuse Dean's advances after they cleared up. They'll be able to have a lot of sex whenever they want now, so he prefers to be cautious and not overdo it, while the two of them are still injured. Dean, after a lot of pouting, finally relents.
The smart thing to do would be packing up and get the hell out of dodge (as Dean so eloquently put it), but somehow neither of them quite feels like leaving yet. Yesterday had been a stark contrast to the dank underground of the infirmary, so full of life and light. Neither of them is willing to leave that behind. And so they pick up their masks and make their way back into the city.
"Who does even pay for all this stuff?" Dean asks after they ran into some kind of parade with lots of exotic dancers, streamers and one of the inevitable petal showers that have the streets almost swim in flowers. Momentarily, the scent of lavender and roses is so heavy that it overwhelms the ever present sewage stench, but in the end it's the food stalls that win out. Castiel will never grow used to the potpourri of smells permeating the air at this time of the year, but according to Dean it has a unique charm.
Castiel decided a long time ago not to think too deeply about just where exactly all the smells come from. It's nice enough when it's just flowers or even food, albeit that can get a bit overwhelming in its own way - Castiel is not fond of an all-grease diet - but there's the stench of the sewage, or rather the lack thereof. In certain districts, people just dump their waste on the street. If they're nice, they use side alleys, but even that doesn't help much. Then there are the countless puddles of vomit, left by the even more countless drunks, and a lot of other things Castiel doesn't want to think about.
The real question should probably be, who cleans up afterwards?
"Mostly the Master." Castiel watches a bunch of kids as they chase each other, running and screaming, cheeks flushed red from their efforts and the summer heat. "His nobles come up for the rest. Good fortune is supposed to come to those who prove themselves generous." Castiel cites the well-known reasoning behind said generosity. It's probably nothing more than a superstition, but it can't be denied, that despite countless wars and a very unhappy general populace - the empire strives.
"Is that so?" Dean raises an eyebrow and takes another look around. "It is kind of awesome, I guess."
"I guess." Castiel echoes, smiling softly at Dean. Their eyes meet and for a moment they just stare at each other, but then Dean's smile widens into a full blown grin. Castiel feels the laugh bubble in his chest, and it's strange and totally out of nowhere, but it feels right to give in so he does. And no one around them cares that they're laughing in the middle of the street. A few even join in, simply for the joy of it.
And it's then that it settles in with Castiel, they've made it. Dean is free and safe and they can stay together for however long they can stand each other. Castiel sure hopes that it will be forever.
They don't stay as long as the day before. Caution finally caught up with them and they decide to no longer tempt fate and leave the city behind. Castiel doesn't have a real plan as where to go, but Dean proposes they go to his father's friend Bobby's place, for he's the one who most likely took Sam in after Dean was taken away.
And Castiel can't really argue with that. If Balthazar were still alive he would be the first person he would want to see. But then again, if Balthazar were still alive, he would have never ended up here and consequently never met Dean. So that had to count for something. They would just have to be careful.
The hut is as silent and dusty as they had left it, only the bed hints at its recent occupation. Their bags are stacked neatly next to the entrance, ready to go, but Castiel wants to look at both their wounds before heading out.
Castiel had packed plenty of medical equipment, but both their combined states of injuries had blown through his supplies pretty fast. He's in the middle of applying the last of his salve to Dean's various bruises when Dean perks up. "Do you hear that?" He's frowning, concerned.
Castiel drops his hand and looks up, but there is nothing there. "No." He mirrors Dean's frown. It's late afternoon and there is no reason for anybody to be out there. It might be some stragglers, looking for a quiet spot or something. He tells Dean as much, even though it's highly unlikely for anyone to come out this far into the superstitiously abandoned part of the outer city. But then again, Castiel and Dean are here, and it can't be anything else, right?
Dean is still frowning, but after intense listening doesn't provide any further information, he gives up. Castiel finishes his treatment, straining his ears, but like Dean, he comes up blank. Maybe it was just some spooked animal. "That's it. I'll hopefully be able to restock on herbs on our way." Castiel leans back on his heels and puts the lid back on the now empty jar.
He leans over to put his medical satchel back together, back turned to the entrance, when Dean suddenly jumps to his feet. "What-" His voice gets cut off and Castiel moves to turn around, but something heavy and sharp pushes into his back. Castiel groans when he hits the floor, the wooden boards creak and release a cloud of dust into his face. The heavy weight presses in between his shoulder blades and he realizes belatedly that it's a boot.
His mind is reeling, million possibilities whirring through his head at once. Maybe they're bandits, thieves passing through who will just take their stuff and leave them alone. He can't see Dean from his position, but judging by his grunts and curses, he's struggling. There's a dull sound, flesh hitting flesh and Dean's curses end with a pained groan.
Castiel tries to get a look at what happens behind him; he needs to know in whose hands they are, but the boot thwarts his efforts by grinding down brutally. "Who are you?" He grounds out between clenched teeth. His body is protesting the pressure and he has to breathe shallowly to get the much needed air.
"Shut up." The boot grinds down again, the tip digging painfully in between Castiel's shoulder blades and he has to bite back the pained yelp. The voice had belonged to a man, but other than that and that its owner clearly doesn't allow any leniency, it reveals little about their captors.
"Leave him." Dean snaps from somewhere behind him, but he gets pretty much the same reply as Castiel got.
"You sure, these are the ones?" Someone asks, voice as unfamiliar as the first one.
"Without a doubt." The first voice replies, derisively and with a distinct air of disgust to it. "Our two lovebirds have built themselves a love nest." Someone laughs, but the sound is not at all comforting. "The Master will be pleased."
Castiel closes his eyes. He had been afraid of that. He had hoped - against all odds - that they had just ended up in the hands of bandits, but that hope is now pretty much smashed. They are screwed. They shouldn't have stayed here for so long, they should have moved on as soon as possible. It had been a mistake, a stupid mistake that has now put Dean in danger.
But Castiel can't just give up; they've worked too hard, they've come too far to let it all just go to waste because of some dumb mistakes. He can't allow that. Castiel struggles; wiggles to get out from under the boot, but it is pointless. Someone kicks his arms out under him the moment he manages to push himself up and he barely manages to protect his face when he falls down.
"Don't get cocky." A foot connects with his side and Castiel tries to curl in on himself, but the boot on his back won't let him. Dean yells something, and there are sounds of struggle behind him, and Castiel renews his efforts, but then there's a thickening thump and Dean is abruptly silent. Castiel doesn't get the time to react before something hard connects with the back of his head and he blacks out
