Chapter Twenty Eight
Once Castiel has recovered from the initial trauma of removing the wall, he is back to his old self. Mostly. He is recovered in that he is strong, solid, his emotions are well-guarded and in control and he seems much the same as he did when the brothers had first met him. Righteous and comfortable with it. But there is a slight change, Sam notices. Cas is tougher-looking. He hasn't gotten any bigger, or any stronger as far as Sam knows, but there's something different about him. An edge to him. It's a mood, a look in his eye, that keeps people glancing at him warily and keeping their distance. He seems wartorn and dangerous.
Dean doesn't have his old edge back yet, his swagger is gone and replaced by hunched shoulders and a tinge of introversion that mixes strangely with his defiant attitude. He's not watching his back like he used to, because he's too distracted by the echoes of Purgatory in his head. He isn't as sure of himself, because he's afraid that his mind will slip away from him.
Castiel however, looks more formidable than ever. His eyes are sharp, his shoulders set, his fists clenched more often than not. He looks mighty, even in his crumpled coat. Sam has witnessed people on the street, grown men, steer clear of Castiel as he passes. He thinks they must have sensed, subconsciously, that Castiel was too strong to beat. That he was angry and that violence was not a stranger to him.
And it is strange, for Sam, to see that look, that attitude, on Castiel, instead of his brother.
But it is even stranger for Dean.
Being too wrecked-up to rebuild his old swagger doesn't mean he isn't aware of its absence. He's well aware of how kill-able he is at this point of time, and he is even more acutely aware of how defiantly tough Castiel has become. Cas has recovered before him, healed faster. Granted, Cas was always stronger. He's not human, he's a warrior of heaven and as such, nearly un-killable. Them's the facts. And Dean's always been ok with that. Until now. Because before his return from Purgatory, Dean has always been able to hold his own in a fight, despite his mortality. Now... he gets scared sometimes. And he gets confused. He's playing injured, and he knows it.
Dean is angry that he is weak. He hates knowing it. He hates that Sam knows it. And he hates that Cas knows it. When he's alone with Castiel is the only time Dean feels strong anymore, because he knows that when Cas looks at him, he still sees Purgatory-him.
So Dean takes it upon himself to break Castiel down in the only way he knows he still can.
Power-play was always a big part of their relationship, and Cas has been the strong one far too often. So Dean wants to remind him that he's still in here, still in this body, fighting his way back out. He feels an overwhelming need to prove to the angel that he isn't completely broken. He wants Cas to look at him, and see the man that cut through Leviathans like they were helpless children to get to him.
He kisses him hard and demanding, pushing into his mouth and tugging the coat from his arms without preamble. He pushes his hands up under Cas' shirt, blunt fingers and nails running unforgivingly over his stomach and his sides. Dean growls at the whimpery sound Cas makes. Just kissing and sleeping together hasn't been enough - he's just realizing, it's been way too long since they touched. He isn't sure what he's been waiting for. He surges forward and slams Cas back into the wall, shoving a knee between his thighs and pressing hard. He feels Cas' hands clench against his t-shirted back. Dean rolls his hips against the angel's and Cas shudders, arching to meet the touch. Dean tugs Cas' shirt up over his head and the two slam back together.
Dean nips at Cas' neck and the angel's arms pull him in closer. He dips down and licks first at the pink bud of his nipple, knowing they've never gotten to play like this before, and the gasp Cas lets out, the feeling of his body arching forward, makes Dean smirk against his skin. When he takes it between his teeth, the surprised sound Castiel makes shoots straight to Dean's groin. Dean would say it's a gasp, but that doesn't sound manly enough. Castiel gasps gravel and gasoline and smoke - it isn't cute, it's fucking masculine.
Dean attacks Castiel's mouth mercilessly, rolling the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching, and enjoying the stutter of Castiel's breath and voice at the action, and the way he can't focus on what his mouth is doing. It gives Dean all the control.
It makes him bizarrely, uniquely happy, to have Castiel a boneless, subjugated beggar under his hands. He wants him to want nothing else but him; he wants for Castiel, even with his infinite senses, to feel nothing but him.
Dean brings both hands to Castiel's hips and grips them with a bruising hold that makes the angel draw in a hissed breath, and he drags their bodies against each other - he knows that Cas is playing fair, letting himself feel things like a mortal and putting away all his excessive strength. When he can see Cas' eyes slide closed, a groan erupting from his lips and his head lolling back against the wall, he smirks. He's got him right where he wants him.
He shoves Cas back against the wall, the angel's eyes snapping open. Dean comes forward, green eyes sharp, smirk dark and wicked, and Castiel swallows hard. Dean crowds him, standing up to his full height, nipping at Castiel's lip sharply before grabbing him hard at the shoulder and pushing down, until Cas is on his knees, trapped between Dean's body and the wall.
Dean thumbs at the angel's mouth, wetting his own bottom lip with his tongue at the sight of the digit pushing between Cas' lips. Castiel holds it tight between his teeth and Dean smirks. He pulls his thumb out and gives Cas' jaw a little smack. Cas' eyes go dark, pupils blown out.
Dan undoes his belt and jeans, barely lowering them, reaching in to pull his cock free and he watches as Castiel's eyes track it, the angel licking his lips when it springs free.
Castiel moves forward, but his head is jerked back before he can get what he wants by Dean's hand gripping tight in his hair. Cas' eyes slide up to Dean's, and when they finally make contact the angel groans lightly. He realizes, that he wants Dean to do whatever he wants to him. And he isn't as scared of the thought as he figured he would be.
Dean feels it. And there's a surge of affection, they both feel it. They accept it, but ignore it. They'll save that for later. They don't have time for romance right now.
Dean holds Cas' head back, expanse of his pale throat exposed, Cas' hand gripping at Dean's wrist. Dean drags the tip of his cock up the length of Cas' throat, leaving a trail of precum. He can feel the angel shudder. He moves over his chin, hissing at the feeling of stubble against the sensitive head, and rests it lightly at Cas' lips. When Cas parts his lips and tries to move forward to take it into his mouth, he is punished with a hard yank at his hair, pulling his head back, so he has no movement, no leverage. His hand is squeezing so hard at Dean's thigh that the man knows he will have a hand-shaped bruise, but Cas seems to be completely oblivious. He's completely caught-up in the moment, and that's what Dean wanted. Dean holds the tip against Cas' bottom lip, until he feels the angel's hot breath against his skin, and precum beads against Castiel's flushed skin. He likes the way it looks, and he smirks down at him when Cas can't help but poke his tongue out to touch it. He's watching Dean's face as he does it, seeing Dean's lips part, his ghost of a smirk, and he knows he isn't going to be punished this time. So he reaches further, and runs his tongue over the slit at the head of Dean's cock.
Dean hisses a breath in and then groans, his eyes sliding closed. Suddenly he opens them, and smirks down at Cas, and Cas smiles back. This, feels like home. This game is so familiar, this intimacy - this is right. Dean never looks away, his eyes are sharper than they've been in months as he pushes slowly past Cas' lips into his mouth.
The angel groans at the feeling, not really sure why the act brings him so much relief. He watches Dean's eyes widen as he pushes in and in, until he hits the back of the angel's throat. He groans, running a gentle hand through Cas' hair. Cas lets his tongue play, but he doesn't tip his head forward and suck - not until he's told. This is Dean's game.
Dean looks down at him, biting his lip at the sight, and he brings both hands to the back of Cas' head, tipping it forward. Finally Cas can tighten his lips and suck and his own dick throbs, a glob of precum seeping out at the way Dean groans and cusses. Dean uses his hold on Cas' head to keep him still, and he slowly slides out of his mouth, before sliding back in, and Castiel sees what they're doing and reaches down to palm his aching dick - Dean wants to fuck his mouth, slow and controlled. He wants Cas to dare to let him do whatever he wants.
Cas moans against Dean's cock as he takes it. There's a part of him that growls, that wants to fight and throw Dean down and be the strong one. But it is easily ignored. The rest of him is enjoying this. The part of him that wants to be used, wants to be taken instead of doing the taking, is extremely pleased. He is eager to do his damnedest, and to prove to Dean that he trusts him. To let Dean know that he is strong. He knows how unfair it is that he is all but well, and Dean still struggles - he likes to see the man look like this again, all smirks and bitten lips and confidence. It makes Cas feel things he can't understand, things that have him whimpering and rubbing hard at his own pants.
It's only minutes before their both hot and fuzzy-brained. Cas pulls off, Dean letting him, and groans, panting. "Dean," he begs, voice wrecked.
Dean pulls away just long enough to bend down and undo Cas' pants for him, sliding them down his hips and pulling out his dark-reddened dick. Cas' hand shoots down to it, the other pulling Dean's cock toward him.
Castiel backs up against the wall so he can press his back against it. Dean braces his hands against the wall and looks down at where Castiel's got one hand wrapped around himself, jerking, the other wrapped around Dean, guiding it into his mouth.
Dean can't believe what Cas let's him do, rolling his hips up into his mouth, slowly thrusting - Cas feels so good, and the look of him... Dean doesn't know if he can handle it any longer.
Dean pulls out of his mouth and squeezes one last time before shooting all over Cas' pale clavicle, his chest, one stripe painting a thin line over Cas nipple. Cas touches it, and then looks up at him like he is completely awed. He comes forward, holding the backs of Dean's thighs in his hands, lazily licking and nuzzling at the insides of his thighs. Every time his hot breath or a sneaky brush of lips touches Dean's overstimulated, now softening cock Dean twitches and runs a gentle hand through Cas' hair.
Despite the tremble to his muscles, Dean feels strong and... normal. He feels all at once like the person "Dean" is supposed to be on earth, and the animal that loved and bled for Cas in Purgatory. It's a blissful high that joins both versions of him into one clear-headed man, and he feels sharper than he has since he's been back.
With a heavy sigh, Dean turns and slides down the wall beside Cas, and as soon as his butt hits the ground the angel maneuvers so that he is straddling Dean's lap. Dean pulls him down, gently, to kiss him. It's an innocent thing, closed lipped and sweet.
Cas is fisting his dick between them. Dean knows he must be aching, it must hurt at this point. He leans back against the wall, giving Cas permission to do whatever he wants.
Cas' left hand scrambles to hold Dean's t-shirt up while his right is still stroking. Dean makes it easier, leaning forward to pull his shirt all the way off. He arches when the hot skin of his back touches the cool paint of the wall. He runs his hands over Cas' thighs, touches lightly at his shoulders and clavicle. Cas is in his own world at this point, eyes completely unfocused, face and chest flushed red.
Dean leans forward and captures Cas' nipple in his lips, sucking gently, lavishing the pink bud with almost gentlemanly affection. Cas is groaning above him, another stuttered breath coming every time Dean's tongue swipes over it. Dean loves the sounds he's making - guttural and deep and just, so fucking perfect.
Finally Cas starts shaking, he lays a hand to Dean's chest and pushes him back with his inhuman strength, losing control, Dean's shoulder blades slamming back against the wall. But Dean doesn't give a damn. He watches, his own lip between his teeth as Cas gives his final strokes and shoots hot and white all over Dean's abdomen.
When Cas is done, he doesn't collapse forward onto Dean like the man expects. He sits there, panting, dick in hand, face tipped up toward the ceiling, and smiles. He takes a moment, to even his breath, to appreciate - the fully human and angel feeling of it humming in his body. And then his head tilts down and he looks at Dean with an expression that makes the man swallow drily and wonder how he went so long knowing Cas, and never really seeing how beautiful he was - he is smirking, his blue eyes are sharp, dangerous.
Dean feels like the mouse, captured by the cat who has just realized how much fun he can have playing with him. He likes it.
Cas comes forward and nips at his bottom lip, until Dean seals their lips in a kiss that he owns, hand holding tightly at the back of Cas' neck.
Dean doesn't dare thank him for letting him have this, letting him feel strong. He doesn't have to voice it.
...
Dean comes out of the room, grinning to himself at the pep in his own step - but he stops short when he sees his brother at the kitchen table. Sam's eyes glance to his before darting straight back to his computer, a slight blush coming to his cheeks. He gets up and goes to the stove where he's got a sandwich frying.
Dean feels the back of his neck get hot, and a guilty, unsettled feeling creeps up on him. He hadn't known Sam was back, and he definitely hadn't meant for him to have to hear any of that. Him and Sam hadn't even talked about... They hadn't talked about him and Cas yet. Dean knew he knew, to some extent, but he'd never meant for him to have to know, like this.
Sam clears his throat, flipping his sandwich and trying desperately to sound normal.
"You want a sandwich?"
"I didn't know you were back," Dean offers lamely.
Sam says nothing for a long moment. His eyes never leave the frying pan, "I called out when I got home, but... you didn't answer. I got nervous."
Dean swallows hard.
"So I went to your room..."
And the thought of Sam, standing outside his bedroom door, hearing him and Cas and knowing without a doubt what they were to each other, is somehow heartbreaking. Dean isn't sure why.
When Dean doesn't say anything Sam starts snappily, "Look it's fine -"
"Sam -"
"It's fine, Dean. I mean... I guess I already knew."
"I wanted to talk to you about it," Dean tells him quietly, "but, I..."
"Whatever. No need to get all... lifetime movie network about it, right?" Sam jokes. And Dean does give a little laugh, but the uneasiness in him doesn't go away.
"So," Sam starts again, "you want a sandwich or what?"
Sorry for the wait, lovely readerlings. For some reason I had a lot of anxiety posting this chapter... Alas, there it was. I hope you liked it. We're rounding the corner to wrapping this story up. A few more...
