SORRYYYYYYY this is several days late. For being late. This chapter really stumped me and I'm pretty nervous about posting it but I got it beta'd by my wonderful champion reviewer Alicemurdock and it's hopefully not a huge disappointment. I tried really hard and I'm proud of myself for overcoming my mental block about smut and just getting it done, regardless of whether it's any good. But I have been told it's not at all bad and I'm cautiously optimistic that you guys will all agree! Let me know!

Updates will now be fortnightly rather than weekly. Sorry about that (but not very because we all know how I feel about pressuring authors and I have shit to do).

Since we last spoke I've binge watched 'Fresh Meat' and it's pretty good and I have a new ship to sail, the HMS Voregon. May or may not write something for it. Probably not if we're being realistic but I WANT to because even though it's not confirmed canon, it's implied potential canon and no one associated with the show seems opposed to it and it's nice to feel positive and fuzzy about a slash ship rather than sad and tired, as I often feel about destiel. Anyway, Voregon 5eva. That is all.

I freeze for long enough for Dean to catch his breath and speak, amusement and arousal warring in his expression.

"Deja vu, Cas..."

I blink down at him, nonplussed until the familiar scenario sparks recognition within me. I'm straddling Dean, a little lopsided, leaning forward onto hands that frame Dean's head on the mattress.

Just like when we first kissed.

I break into a breathless chuckle, feeling my cheeks heat up as Dean smirks up at me, settling his hands comfortably on my hips. "Ah. Sorry. I didn't mean to, I just... I like being on top of you."

I've developed enough human propriety to know that the words are odd even as they're leaving my mouth. I'm expecting Dean to grimace or laugh at me but instead he shuts his eyes, jaw clenching as he makes a small, indecipherable sound in his throat. Fingers dig into my sides and his voice is husky when he speaks.

"Cas-"

"I like being underneath you too," I hasten to assure him, squirming a little because Dean holding me so tightly feels really fucking good and if I just shift forward another millimetre...

"Fuck," he grits out, eyes flying open as I push my hips forward into both his grip and his growing erection. I bite my lip, pleased.

"Is that a request?" I quip, leaning lower and smirking slightly. Dean huffs in apparent disbelief.

"Shut up," he half-laughs, craning his neck up to press a demanding kiss against my lips. His hands slip back where they rest, hesitate and then keep going, sliding boldly around to cup my backside. What does Dean call it, muttering approval at the lingerie-clad buttocks in his magazines? 'Ass'? I hum with pleasure and Dean laughs again into my mouth, squeezing and kneading my ass a little with his hands, tugging me closer and lifting his own hips to grind up against me. He breaks away again, dropping his head back to stare at me, panting slightly.

"This is bizarre," he comments, but he's grinning, glowing with giddy excitement. I brush another kiss against his smile, warm all over.

"I love it," I murmur, dragging my lips across his cheek and down to his ear, sliding my fingers into his hair. I whisper there, my voice coming out more fervent than I planned. "I love you."

Dean's breath hitches and he winds his arms around my waist. He squeezes me lightly and then returns his hands to my hips as I sit up a little, enough to meet his eyes. They're soft and dark, wandering slowly over my face as I watch him. I feel a shiver across my skin.

"Didn't you say something about less clothes next time?" I say in a rush, heart rate picking up with nervous excitement. Sex is usually low on my list of general interests and even regarding Dean, it's not something that strikes me as very important. But every time I'm close to him like this it quickly demands my whole attention and I struggle to keep up with my own intense reactions and desires. Right now, the totally reasonable prospect of Dean not wanting to take off his clothes is a disproportionately glum one for me.

But Dean's eyes light up at my spurious question. Warm fingers slide underneath my shirt, lifting it halfway and then pausing. Enthusiastically, I grasp it and yank the t shirt off, flinging it carelessly onto the floor.

"Your turn?" I prompt hopefully, eyeing the green button-down that looks fantastic on but is currently too opaque for my liking. Dean snorts with amusement even as his eyes trail over my naked torso. He nods, slowly and absent-mindedly, clearly distracted. I take that as permission and begin unbuttoning his shirt, ignoring his flinch of surprise. He looks down at my fingers and then glances back up at me, flushing a little.

"Eager?" he teases, eyebrows raised. I nod seriously and he gives a pleased grin.

"Can't say I blame you," he says airily, scrambling up onto his elbows and winking at me. I roll my eyes but focus sharply as I reach the last button and carefully push the material off of strong, freckled shoulders. I take a deep breath as I survey all of the gorgeous bare flesh I'm unveiling, giddy that it's mine to explore.

I look at Dean to tell him that he has nice skin - nice everything - but he's staring again at my chest, lips parted. I remember how they felt touching me there and the urge for contact rises insistently. Leaning forward with one hand braced behind Dean, I fit the other to his jaw and kiss him slowly. He kisses me back with a now-familiar passion, tracing my lips with his tongue and nipping at them with his teeth. I writhe in his lap, bringing our groins briefly together again.

Dean bucks his hips without warning, gasping against my lips. I deepen the kiss, head spinning as he does it again, insistently. I whimper, fingers fisting in his hair as I begin to move with purpose, rutting against him. He mirrors the movements and I feel how hard we both are, heat burning through two layers of denim. It feels amazing, but it's not enough.

"Dean…" I groan, hurriedly withdrawing my tongue from his mouth and shifting back to peer at him. "If you aren't willing to do third base, I think we should stop."

I'm unhappy that I'm suggesting such a thing, but the thought of pushing this any further and then stopping is a little horrifying. Dean's eyes are all but black, fully blown as he stares up at me. He gulps and my eyes catch on his throat.

"I was probably a bit hasty with the whole third base thing," he rasps after a pause. I close my eyes at the sound of his voice like this, low and rough. "Third base is probably absolutely fine. And we waited a whole night. That's pretty damn-"

He doesn't get any further as I knock him back down to the mattress with an enthusiastic kiss. Groaning, he winds his fingers through my hair and responds enthusiastically for several seconds, before he pushes me back and struggles to sit up too. His breathing is ragged and the look in his eyes makes me feel light-headed, but as I watch he seems to calm down again, smiling wryly at me.

"You're one hell of an ego boost, you know that?"

I nod firmly. "Good. You need to improve your self-confidence."

Dean snorts but my eyes and mind are straying, down to the obvious tent in Dean's jeans from his penis… no, he calls it a dick, he made enough jokes about Dick Roman for me to know that. But what's the other word he uses sometimes? Cock? His cock is clearly as uncomfortably confined as mine. Shifting back a little, I reach down to unbuckle his belt where it digs into a slight roll in his stomach, soft and padded over the hard muscles underneath. I decide that I want to kiss that roll. Having pulled the belt open, I push lightly at Dean's shoulder to lay him back down and achieve my goal. Instead, he catches my wrist, breathing fast again.

"Cas, no. I wanna take care of you."

I meet Dean's eyes with some surprise, not quite sure what he means. He looks almost shy but is holding my gaze, cheeks flushed prettily. I blink in confusion.

"You do take care of me. You let me into your home-"

"No," he interrupts with a chuckle, shoulders relaxing slightly. "First off, it's your home too now. And secondly, I meant more as in…"

Instead of continuing his sentence, Dean takes me by the waist and eases me off of his lap, eyes locked onto mine. He gently maneuvers me to lie on my back and then he straddles me lightly, in a mirror image of how we were before. I exhale unsteadily as I gaze up at him, feeling suddenly more vulnerable like this. I trust Dean though. And he looks wonderful from this angle, chest and shoulders broad and solid, jawline a natural work of art. When I saw Dean primarily as his soul, it wouldn't have mattered either way what he looked like physically. It still doesn't, really. But now that I'm seeing him through human eyes, it seems that the exterior definitely matches the interior in his case. He's beautiful.

My eyelids flutter as Dean runs his fingertips down across my chest and stomach, gaze following in apparent fascination. He reaches my belt and unbuckles it faster than I did, followed promptly by the button and zipper. I hold my breath as he tugs at both my jeans and my boxers, lifting my hips to help him pull them down my thighs. My cock springs free and bobs a little, curving back up towards my stomach, pink and swollen but still a contrast to the rough, dark curls beneath it. I watch Dean closely and I see the way he freezes, staring at it with wide eyes.

"Are you alright?" I whisper. He jumps slightly and looks up at me, swallowing nervously.

"Yeah," he answers automatically. I frown at him and he takes a deep breath, eyes straying back down to my erection, conspicuous and demanding before him. He pauses before speaking again. "It's weird for me. I've never touched another dude's dick before. And now I'm sitting here and it's like, I want to. I want you. But I don't really know how to stop caring that it's a dick. But it's just a dick. I have one. It shouldn't matter. Maybe it won't, in a moment, maybe I'll just get over it. It just gave me a shock. Which is dumb."

He finishes this speech with a false, tense laugh, trailing off into an uncertain glance back up at my face. I shake my head hastily. "It's not dumb."

Dean stares at me, looking unconvinced.

"It's just a dick," he repeats, a touch of frustration in his voice. I smile fondly.

"Yes, it is," I agree placidly. "Just like yours. And you don't have to do anything at all, Dean. There's nothing wrong wi- oh, fuck-"

I stutter into silence as Dean, apparently no longer interested in reassurances, reaches out and firmly wraps a hand around my cock, squeezing lightly and pulling upwards a little. It feels indescribably different from my own touch, in a very good way. He watches me, lips quirking in the ghost of a smirk, before returning his attention to his handiwork.

"Just like mine," he mutters to himself. "OK. I'll just do the stuff that I like. Easy."

"Yeah," I gasp, dropping my head back and squeezing my eyes shut. Dean drags his fisted hand up to the tip and swirls the pad of his thumb around, firm against the unbelievably sensitive skin there. I groan helplessly as he loosens his grip and drops his hand back down, only to do it all again, a little faster.

"That is so good," I murmur, my voice slurred, on the edge of a moan. Dean squeezes a little more and picks up his pace, fingers tightening and twisting and tugging noises of pleasure out of me. I begin to lift my hips in an involuntary attempt to match his movements and then, as Dean settles into a brisk speed, I realise that I'm trying to thrust into his hand. Clenching my fists and my jaw, I fight to keep still. It's ludicrously difficult.

"Dean, Dean…" I pant, forcing my eyes open to check on him. He's leaning forward on his spare hand, hovering over me, gaze focused on the sight of my now red and tumid cock as it slides through his loose fist. His mouth is hanging open, breath coming fast. I grab hold of his thighs, fingers digging in harshly. He looks up and meets my eyes and I'm not able to form coherent words or alter my facial expression much but I try to communicate that I'm concerned about him, mostly through further tightening my grip on his legs either side of me. He winces and the pace of his hand on me falters; I whimper weakly, eyes closing involuntarily.

"Cas," I hear Dean murmur. Then he's kissing me, squeezing and pumping faster between us and it's too much. I can't work out if the sensations overwhelming me are physical or emotional or both but everything falls apart at once.

It feels like flying.

When I become aware of my physical existence again it's clear that less time has passed than I'd have thought, if I'd been considering such things. I can feel sweat cooling on my skin, which is oddly soothing. The exception to this is the mess on my stomach, which is still at an unpleasantly tepid temperature level. My limbs are heavy and my head is swimming. I tip my head back, stretching my neck, and open my eyes blearily. I meet Dean's wide green gaze immediately. He's still straddling me, leaning directly over me on both hands, peering at me in what looks like fascination. I blink up at him and he blinks back.

"Hey," he whispers. I blink again.

"Hey," I attempt, wincing at the wrecked sound of my own voice. I clear my throat, frowning. "Sorry. Hello, Dean."

Dean grins faintly. "You seemed to enjoy that."

I break into a pleased but embarrassed smile, glancing away. "Yes. I did."

Quite suddenly, it occurs to me that Dean did not experience what I just experienced. I look back up at him, brow furrowing. "Dean, you're still sexually unsatisfied. I should return the favour, as I believe the saying goes."

He blushes, finally sitting back on his haunches. I sit up too, grimacing at the bodily fluids all over my torso. Dean is rambling about me not being obliged to do anything for him and I'm about to interrupt him when I catch sight of his abdomen. It's barely a drop, clearly a result of him hovering so low over me when I came. But it's there, conspicuous against his tanned skin. My semen got splashed onto Dean's stomach and I can't seem to stop staring at it.

"What is it?" Dean is saying, following my gaze down at himself. "What are you…"

He falls quiet as he sees it too and I watch his expression turn to alarm, which quickly intensifies as I reach out towards him. I'm not even aware that I'm wiping it off with my thumb until I've done it and then I freeze, thumb hovering between us in mid air, panic building in my mind. It's surely too much for Dean, me ejaculating onto him and then attempting to remove it with my bare hands. And what am I supposed to do now? I meet his eyes, a slightly scared look on my face. He stares at me blankly for several seconds before, without any warning, grabbing my hand and closing his lips around my thumb.

It's over before I can react. Dean pulls away, releases my hand and fixes me with an almost defiant look, despite his face steadily turning scarlet. My mouth has dropped open.

"Seemed like the practical thing to do," Dean explains defensively. I snap my mouth shut and nod dazedly.

"Of course. It was."

"It's not weird."

"It's not at all weird."

"Right. So, you know, stop looking at me like it's weird!"

I survey him critically. "Dean, my perspective doesn't really provide parameters for me to judge what is weird and what is not. But what you just did was not what I would assume is considered 'weird'. I am looking at you in an unusual way because I am surprised and fairly aroused by your actions."

Dean raises his eyebrows at me, relaxing slightly. "Aroused?"

"Well, not physically," I allow, glancing downwards. "I'm not currently capable of that. Which reminds me: you have not been, as you say, 'looked after'. Can I look after you?"

Dean chuckles but shakes his head. "That's one hell of an offer, Cas. But… I'm actually alright for now. I mean, I'm still… I could probably do with it. Some, uh, looking after. But I kind of feel like I've done a lot and it's a lot, you know? And it's not like I didn't, uh, enjoy myself. Because I did. But that, in itself… I kinda need a break. From all this. Just for now?"

I'm already nodding, trying to cut off Dean's anxious dialogue. "It's fine. I completely understand. Maybe I can go and clean myself up while you check to see if Charlie's emailed you?"

"Are you sure everything's OK?"

I smile and lean forward, brushing a light kiss against his lips. "Far more than that. But you need space and time. I don't begrudge you those things."

Dean is peering uncertainly at me. "I just don't know if I'm handling this right."

I shrug, my mouth quirking. "You handled me fine."

Dean shuts his eyes. "I wasn't being literal, Cas."

I smile widely. "I know."