The scar over Dean's shoulder was still dark, still raised- it hadn't really healed over the years. The slick flesh almost glinting wet in the pale light that managed to sneak past the curtains. Most of Dean looked wet though, sweat on his chest and neck. Castiel wanted to touch him. To feel the one scar on Dean that he had made. He had marked the human- even if only by accident, a proxy to pulling him out of hell, it was there just the same. It made heat curl in the Angel's gut, pooling golden and caustic, burning deep in him.

His eyes met Dean's, only for a heartbeat, and the hunter had this wild look to him. Castiel's breath caught in his throat and that heat in him spread. Shaking, he reached out to the hunter, slid his hand over the scar, his fingers trembling. He knew he had no right to it- he knew it was pure hubris that he felt in the mark he had left. And it was wrong.

It was very wrong.

But it didn't stop the feeling of possession he felt when he touched Dean.

Castiel had claim to him.

He had pieced Dean back together and this human belonged to him, his flesh and blood and soul.

Dean's voice came over him, brittle and unsure. "Uh, how 'bout that cup of coffee?"

"I don't care for the taste of coffee, Dean." He said slowly, his voice not his own. "I prefer the taste of you."

Dean was watching him, wide eyes uncertain. "Come again?"

Despite the fact that he had spoken the truth, it was not what he had meant to say. He knew better. He knew that his words were not the sort of thing that you were meant to say to a friend.

"I…" His throat was tight, he couldn't make any other sound. He didn't know what he was meant to say now. He couldn't read the look on Dean's face, couldn't make sense of the feral expression he wore.

The hunter moved beneath his touch, leaning closer. When he finally spoke it was hardly more than a whisper. "Cas… I'm gunna kiss you again." It sounded almost like a question. "If that's not something you want then you better let me the hell go."

But… but if that was something he wanted… should he hold on? He tightened his grip on Dean's shoulder and held his breath.

Dean swallowed tickly, his gaze flicking from Castiel's eyes to his mouth. It took half an eternity for Dean to close the distance between them. His lips were rough, chapped, but his mouth… his mouth was sweet, like he had had one of those sodas of his before bed. He licked his way into Castiel's mouth, deliberate and hungry and he felt a rough moan clamor its way out of his chest.

One of the hunter's hands came up to cup his face, a thumb running gently over his cheek bone before he shifted his grip, sliding to cradle the back of his head. Dean was pulling him down, gently, so gently and slow.

It took too long for him to realize that Dean was laying himself back on the bed, pulling Castiel with him. He clumsily laid down beside his friend, doing his best to keep their lips together. He didn't know why it had taken him so long to find an opportunity to kiss Dean, but he felt that he had done himself a real disservice in waiting. Dean was… he was very good at this. He knew just how much pressure to use, when to cut into Castiel's lip with the edge of his teeth, when to slide his hand up under Castiel's shirt- fingers skimming over his ribs, possessive and slow.

Dean slid a knee between his and Castiel let him. Dean was pulling Castiel on top of him, the hand in his hair sliding down his back, catching hold of his hip for a moment before moving to grab his- oh.

Oh.

Dean managed to get both his hands on the Angel's backside and he drew their hips together firmly, rocking up into Castiel once, twice- uneven, reckless little movements.

Castiel didn't know why- but that beautiful feeling made his back bow, his spine arching and he broke away from those agonizingly perfect kisses.

"Too much?" Dean asked in a ruined voice, gasping softly, looking up at Castiel with eyes darker than he had ever seen them.

He wanted to say no, he wanted to tell Dean to keep kissing him, to keep touching him. He wanted Dean's sinful mouth on him. He wanted…

"Dean," he struggled to find the right words. "Can you be the pizza man?"

Dean's hands slid up to his back beneath his shirt, dancing along his spine, and the hunter laughed softly, the sound rolling deep in his chest. "What the actual hell, Cas?"

"Or you can be the babysitter- if you like." He wanted to give Dean the opportunity… if he wanted it.

"Damn it, Cas." Recognition flared behind his eyes and he laughed again, kissing the edge of Castiel's jaw, brining a hand back up to card through his hair. "You- you have no idea what you do to me, do you?"

Castiel didn't know. It must have shown on his face, because Dean chuckled again, low as thunder, before burying his face in the Angel's neck, kissing the spot behind his ear. "How are you even real?"

"I," he found it almost impossible to think of an answer while Dean's teeth were on him. "I don't understand."

"It's called a rhetorical question, Cas." He pulled back enough that their eyes could meet in the dark room, and Dean was grinning.

"Oh…" He wasn't sure what Dean's answer was, but they had stopped kissing and he didn't like it.

Dean was watching his mouth, still smiling. Castiel began to feel a bit like a lamb caught up by a wolf. It wasn't a particularly bad feeling. It felt like finally letting himself go.

And he did let go, for the first time in many long minutes, he took his hand from Dean's shoulder and he sat up, very aware of Dean's eyes following his every movement. He found himself half kneeling over his friend, their legs tangled. A look of apprehension passed over the hunter's face, but as Castiel started to tug at his tie, he relaxed. Sitting up, partially under Castiel, Dean was a little shorter, but this didn't seem to faze him in the slightest as his hands came up to help with the stubborn knot of the tie, he bobbed his head back to Castiel's neck, finding the spot he had been working on before with ease.

The buttons on his shirt came undone with practiced ease, but he supposed that Dean would know how to work buttons easier than he did. Castiel had never really had a need to figure them out before now. Dean did everything slow, glancing furtively up at Castiel from time to time, asking with his eyes before each curious new touch. Castiel wanted to tell him to stop stopping- the answer was yes- but all he managed to do was moan softly and arch up into each touch. Dean's mouth moved down his chest, teeth drawing helpless noises from him.

"Dean," Sam's voice sounded tired and confused on the other side of the room and for a moment Castiel could not fathom why the other man would even be here… in the motel room… that he of course was sharing with his brother like they always did… on the bed just a few feet away. "What was that- oh, god damn it, Dean! No!"

Dean's mouth left Castiel's chest, leaving a moist, bruised spot over one very hard nipple. Castiel groaned, digging his fingers into Dean's shoulders, trying to get him to come back- because Sam could leave if he didn't want to be there, because they weren't going to just stop right when they-

"Sorry, Sam." Dean was apologizing, wearing a lopsided grin that looked nothing at all apologetic. "Forgot you were in here."

"I can see that." He was looking very fixedly at the ceiling and not at his brother and the Angel on the other bed.

Castiel might be wrong, but Sam's face looked a little flushed in the dim light.

"Don't suppose you want to go on a walk or something, give us a little privacy for an hour or so." Dean's hands were on Castiel's hips, his fingers moving slowly as he spoke, thumbs sliding beneath his belt, tugging it down.

"It's three in the morning." Sam looked over at them out of the corner of his eye. "I'm not going on a walk at three in the fucking morning, Dean."

"You can go back to sleep, Sam." Castiel found his voice, even if it didn't sound right. "We will stay on this bed, you don't have to worry."

"Cas, I'm not worried you guys are going to-" Sam hid his face in his hands. He made a frustrated noise low in his throat and dragged himself out of bed, picking up jeans from the floor. "You owe me, Dean." He didn't look at them while he dressed. Jeans buttoned, belt buckled, tshirt pulled over his head.

"I owe you big time." Dean agreed solemnly. "Take the car. Go get some coffee or something."

Sam grabbed the keys from the top of the tv set, they jangled loudly in the small room. "Use protection, you don't know where he's been." He said over his shoulder as he opened the door.

Dean had kind of a barking laugh. "Dude, I'm sure he's-"

"I was talking to Cas." He closed the door behind him with more force than necessary.

Seconds later the headlights of Dean's car flooded the room and Castiel could see everything in crystalline detail, then the lights turned and pulled away, and it was so much darker than before.

"Dean?" Castiel asked after a moment, voice soft.

"I'm still here."

"I know that." It would be a hard thing to not know considering that Dean still had two fingers very firmly gripping his bared hips.

"Do you still…" He left the question hanging and for the life of him, Castiel could not understand how someone like Dean could be so uncertain at times like this.

Castiel found his lips in the dark, kissing him with as much conviction as he could, doing his best to answer the words that Dean hadn't said.

an/ this was supposed to be a story about something other than kissing, but I guess it only makes my summery all the more accurate. This went all kinds of down hill- and fast.

Maybe I was just in the mood to write a kissing story and didn't know.

It is a mystery.

Next chapter there will be some plot (I hope) or I can just leave my shame here and never finish this story.

Hey, I've got options.

Thank you guys for putting up with me