AN:

Alright, folks, strap in! This chapter finally earns us our explicit rating! HOWEVER, we'll be addressing Dean's Hell trauma. Nothing is graphically detailed from his time in the basement, but he has a major panic attack. Once he's calmed down, the guys have a sexy solution. So, you might want a box of tissues nearby for multiple reasons :)

The flashes of lightning outside became blood-red and danced across a smog-filled sky. The beginning patter of rain on the Impala's roof became the crackling sound of skin burning over open flames. The rumble of thunder overhead became the screams of pain that broke off into choking gasps and

Dean

The agony only stops for a moment Dean! Long enough for Alastair to twirl the bloody blade in his blood-stained hand until the handle points towards Dean. And every day, Dean! Listen to me! Every day, for twenty goddamn years, he told that demon he could stick it where the sun don't shine. You are out! Every day once he spits that offer back in Alastair's face Dean, stop! His soul heals up, and he's nothing but a new canvas for that gleefully sadistic fucker and

Dean, I saved you; why won't you listen?

Over. And over. And over again. How many times can someone be torn apart in every literal sense of the word before there's nothing left?

I should have gotten to you faster, Dean; I'll never forgive myself for that

He doesn't know how many more times he can say no. You lasted for so long, Dean He can't hold on. Not for much longer and maybe, in the end, that's what he deserv-

THAT'S ENOUGH

There's a flash of light so bright it burns his closed eyes. With a crack of ground-shaking thunder, the heavens open up and pour down hard enough that the rain sounds like hail hitting his Baby. The raging storm jerks Dean out of his sweat-drenched nightmare.

He sat up, confused by the leather seat, the enclosed space, and the ear-splitting pounding of rain over his head. He's confused about the burning pain on his arm. Everything was loud and dark and-

"Dean?" A hand grabbed his forearm, and he flung himself backward, smacking into the interior of the door. Quickly he pulled his legs up and hugged his knees, sinking into the seat to get away from

Calm down, Dean, it's me

He's panting hard, and his heart was pounding in his ears, but it's not enough to block out the insane storm overhead. He sinks a little lower, subconsciously realizing that sitting in a ton-and-a-half of American steel in the middle of a lightning storm is not the best idea.

Peeking through his eyelashes, he saw a familiar shape sitting on the seat next to him. "...Cas?" His voice cracked on the name; he could barely hear himself think over the din of the storm.

Cas tried to reach out, but he pulled his hand back when Dean flinched. Instead of trying to speak over the racket, he heard the raspy voice in his head. Dean? You were dreaming.

A few tears escaped from him, but he shook his head, trying to pull himself together. It's too hard to concentrate enough to talk to Cas like this, so he instead just mutters, "Not dreaming….'membering."

You're safe, Dean. I got us out.

Dean sniffed hard as he tried to remember how to uncurl his body, but every muscle was frozen and locked up. His arm is so strangely painful compared to how numb the rest of him feels. "Can't move," he whispered. "Shit."

Dean? I can help. Will you let me?

He shook his head vehemently as he begged. "No, no, no, don't-!"

Cas held up his hands. I won't hurt you, Dean. I'll never do anything without your permission. All I ask is for you to look at me, please?

Warily, Dean glanced over his knees to Cas, who was slowly moving his hand up and down. Breathe, Dean. It wasn't until he started syncing his lungs to the motion that he realized he was hyperventilating, heart thumping, and lungs working in painful overtime.

Despite Mother Nature's tantrum outside, after several long moments, his mind began to calm. In a flash of light, he saw Cas's slumped shoulders. I wish I could take those memories from you.

"Me too," Dean murmured into his knee caps. He shook his head again, dog-like, as if the bad memories were water droplets he could fling away. With a sniffle, he muttered, "Wish I wasn't broken…."

No one with a soul that shines as bright as yours could ever be genuinely broken, Dean.

That got his attention, and he managed to make eye contact with Cas. "What?"

Your soul shone in Hell like a beacon, Cas explained, though his mouth never moved. You made mistakes and had blood on your hands from your life on Earth-yet you still shone. So brightly, a broken angel found its way to you.

Dean swallowed hard at the lump in his throat. "Lyin's a sin, ya know."

I'm aware. But I'm not lying.

The storm outside was finally starting to let up. The lightning became less frequent, and the thunder was quieter and less intense as the supercell rolled away over the South Dakota countryside. The rain was steady but not terrifyingly loud, just enough to offer a calming white noise.

"Cas, can you take off for a minute?"

After checking him over (and satisfied Dean could be on his own), Cas nodded and then vanished.

Once alone, the muscles in his arms and legs uncoiled from their death grip. Continuing to breathe deeply, he slowly worked the kinks out of his limbs until he no longer shook. Dean glanced around the car, but what had been a cocoon of safety just a few hours ago felt cold and cavernous. Just outside the windshield, he could see Bobby's porch light as a wavy blob of yellow in the distance. I'm not alone. The old man's probably at his desk—Sam's upstairs sleeping off his demon blood bender. Not alone, I'm fine.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to leave the Impala. It might be lonely, but at least things were manageable here. He waited until he mainly felt put back together before he cleared his throat. "Hey, Cas?"

Once again, Cas sat next to him. "Are you feeling any better?"

Dean shrugged with one shoulder and never looked at the angel directly. "Yeah, guess so. I should've been able to stow my crap better. Sorry, man."

Cas shifted slightly in the seat, so he was facing Dean. "This is why I sometimes leave you 'plugged in,'" He admitted with his actual air quotes.

When Dean just raised an eyebrow, Cas explained with a sigh. "The few times you've slept, your nightmares have been...extreme," he pointed out. "Since it doesn't seem to hurt you, I try to keep you awake as much as possible."

Dean ran a hand over his mouth. "I appreciate the gesture, Cas." He's trying to keep me from suffering nightmares? "Not a great long-term plan, though."

"No, unfortunately," Cas agreed. "Your usual ways of coping no longer work; alcohol and sleep being the main reprieves, and I apologize for that. However," Cas hedged, tapping his chin. "Your memories do show that physical release is beneficial in times of stress or loneliness."

Dean gulped. "What are you talking about?"

"If you've been concerned about engaging in any masturbatory practices because of me, I want to let you know that I don't care." At Dean's mute shock, Cas kept trucking on. "I know it's a human need. If you've been depriving yourself on my behalf, please don't."

Dean's brain must have quit working because there was no way that Cas just told him he could jerk off...right?

He crossed his arms and stammered out, "Uh...thanks?"

Cas casually nodded as if they had done nothing more than just decide what take-out to pick up on the way home for dinner.

Unfortunately, Dean was left feeling unanchored more than ever. Yeah, he hadn't thought about sex much, been trying hard not to. Cas in his head had been the most convenient reason he wasn't bar-hopping, but it wasn't the only one. He hadn't wanted to admit to himself that the idea of a stranger touching him... made him want to curl up in a little ball and disappear.

And yet, he ached for that touch of skin-on-skin, of another person's weight on him, of their lips on his neck. He wanted everything and nothing all at once. God, what am I gonna do?

Dean bowed his head so he could cover his face with his hands. His words were muffled when he spoke. "Think I'll uh, let sleeping dogs lie on this one, Cas."

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Dean said as he scrubbed a hand over his face, which was starting to get rough with stubble. Unconsciously, he glanced up at Cas, wondering what that stubble rubbing against his skin would feel like, and nope! Not Happening. Shut Up.

"Dean. I don't know what else to offer you. I don't know how to help." Cas put his palm to his forehead and covered his eyes, clearly getting frustrated.

He had a thought, fuckin weird, honestly. But Cas is kinda clueless sometimes; maybe he won't think it's weird? Slowly, he moved until he was situated correctly in the seat. "Cas?"

He almost chickened out when Cas pulled down his hand to stare at him. But, he put his foot down so he could use the loophole Cas had handily installed. After all, it didn't really count if he didn't say it out loud, right?

Can you...touch me? When Cas squinted at him, Dean held up his hands. Nothing hinky, I mean. I...don't really remember how things felt...before Hell. He ran a hand over his arms, only in a t-shirt since his flannel had landed on the floor before he fell asleep. Dean narrowed his focus down to his calluses, intact from his resurrection, and waited with bated breath.

"Dean." It was such a quiet little thing; he thought it would break him, hearing how Cas uttered his name so carefully. "How?"

Um... Can you make yourself feel real? Straddle my hips?

Within an instant, he had a lapful of angel. It threw him for a second when he let out a huff at the realistic weight bearing down on him. Cas looked down at him, face inches away, hair almost brushing the roof of the car. "Like this?" he clarified.

Dean nodded, releasing the breath he'd been holding. Cas touching him wasn't triggering his fight or flight response. The weight felt grounding, not stifling. It also probably helped that he was thoroughly distracted by Cas, sitting in his lap, in his Impala. He shifted slightly, so his dick didn't get any untoward ideas.

"How do you do that?"

Cas looked up at the ceiling. "Well, normally, I manipulate your senses to perceive me. Sometimes, though, to feel completely corporal, it requires some reworking of celestial quantum mechanics and…."

Dean could feel his eyes glazing over until he noticed a tiny twinkle of mischief in Cas's eye. "It's essentially magic," he summed up drily.

He let himself laugh quietly at that. "Well, either way, it's an awesome trick."

Cas sat before him, still as stone but studying him. "Dean, can I touch you now?"

"Yeah, I'm doing better from, uh, earlier."

Reaching out, Cas palmed his cheek, and he allowed himself to lean into it. Cas let his other hand squeeze the top of his right shoulder before his fingertips trailed down his arm. Oddly, he carefully avoided his own handprint, though it was nothing more than a vague ache there.

"Can I touch you, too, Cas?"

"Yes." Immediately Dean put his hands on Cas's waist and left a little more anchored. Cas still ran a hand over his shoulder or his arm. He felt like he was absorbing the gentle touches like a cactus sucks up water after it rains in the desert. He didn't want to admit how good it felt.

"You have nothing to feel ashamed for," Cas informed him firmly. He hit the nail on the head so squarely that Dean was startled into looking up at him. "Trauma is a powerful thing to fight against."

The hunter immediately bristled and scoffed. "I'm not…." Dean turned, surprised Cas allowed him to pull away.

"Dean, you were on the rack for twenty years. Anyone would be traumatized."

"I should still be able to stow my shit," he repeated bitterly.

Cas let his hands sit on Dean's waist; he wished he could feel those fingers on his naked skin. "Dean," He spoke calmly and used a knuckle under his chin to lift his face, so their eyes met. "You don't understand. You lasted twenty years with Hell's foremost torturer. Souls don't last for years on the rack, Dean. Certainly not for decades."

"Whatcha buttering me up for, Cas?" He tried teasing but failed miserably as he pulled away.

The exasperation from Cas was poignant. "Nothing, Dean. I'm telling you the truth. You forget I was there, too."

There was silence as they listened to the rain falling steadily overhead. The angel was steadfastly looking at his amulet, mulling something over. "Can I tell you a secret if you promise not to tell another soul?"

Curious, Dean said, "Yeah, of course."

Cas sat back slightly, so there was more distance between them, yet his eyes never left Dean's. "When I saw you in Hell, I would have saved you regardless."

"Regardless of what?"

"Of you being the Righteous Man," Cas confessed. "The demons were celebrating your arrival, and I had been waiting for that moment since I was cast down. I will forever regret that I couldn't get to you faster." He swallowed back his guilt. "But, if I saw your soul on the rack, without that destiny tied to it, I would have tried to save you in any manner or way. Because a soul like yours never deserved Hell. You were only there because of an unnatural deal."

"Cas," Dean felt like his chest was stuttering with shallow breaths. "What's your point?"

"That day when I saved us, I managed to right two wrongs. I prevented the Righteous Man from breaking the First Seal, but I also saved Dean Winchester from Perdition."

"...Come on, man, you can't just say shit like that," Dean muttered, blinking hard several times.

There was a slight smirk on Cas's face. "I can. Someone kindly reminded me earlier that lying is a sin, and I'd hate to go back to Hell for something so trivial."

He didn't know what to say in response, so instead, he focused on the feeling of Cas's clothes under his fingers. The smooth fabric of the black waistcoat and the dress pants felt so realistic he could feel the individual fibers of the cloth.

"Cas, you don't understand...how close I came to taking that offer." It was his worst secret, out in the open. He couldn't face Cas, but he needed to get it out of him before the shame tore him apart. He dragged a hand over his eyes. "I'm not strong, Cas."

There was a little hum. "On that, we agree." Dean whipped his head up, startled. "You're stronger than I could have imagined."

He knew his face was hot from embarrassment, but he couldn't figure out how to get Cas to stop, either. Truthfully, he wasn't trying very hard.

"With Lilith still out there, I can't offer you much of a respite. But, do you want to go out and try to meet someone in a bar? Your memories show that you did that often before you went to Hell."

Dean, who had been kind of floating in a weird space between the rain and Cas's quiet yet determined words, snapped fully back to himself. "No!" Stranger danger, not safe, nope, abort, abort!

Despite the klaxons going off in Dean's mind, Cas continued nonchalantly. "Dean, I won't judge you. I told you that I-"

"It's not safe!" The words were out of Dean's mouth before he realized what he'd just admitted, and he clicked his jaw shut.

Cas stopped. Studied him quietly. "Do you mean other people aren't safe?"

Dean nodded silently.

There was a calculating look on Cas's face before he intently put both his hands on Dean's shoulders and met his eyes. "Alright. Yet, when I mentioned masturbation earlier you also shot that idea down. Why?"

"I...look, I just can't, okay?" When Cas just gave him that tilted look of questioning, Dean groaned as his resolve cracked. "It's because of you, dude!"

"Dean, I already said I don't care."

"If I were going to jerk off, there's only one person I'd want to think about, and it seems rude to do that when they share my brain's real estate," Dean spoke fast, saying everything in one breath and hoping that Cas missed the bus.

The look of understanding showed him that Cas had caught the bus, after all. "Why would you...I'm not even in a proper vessel," he questioned. Okay so, Cas somehow got the bus going in the opposite direction.

When Cas glanced down at himself, Dean couldn't help but openly stare. That waistcoat/tucked tie combo was doing things to him. The outfit emphasized his muscular forearms with the rolled-up cuffs, trim waist, broad shoulders. The thick thighs straddling his own were giving him ideas just by themselves. And it wasn't like Dean could forget those intense blue eyes or that spiked-up black hair and perfect stubble. Cas was a package and a half, and that was before he spoke that deliciously raspy voice.

"I have working eyes, dumbass," Dean countered.

Cas ducked his head and did that half-laugh. "Which see what I make them see. Still, I don't care, Dean. If thinking about me helps you, then do it."

He should have let it go; taken this miraculous inch Cas had gifted him, and run for the hills.

Instead, he took in this sight of Cas, in his lap, and god he wanted so badly he couldn't stop himself. Between masturbating alone or having a partner, he would always prefer the latter. It was easier to focus on someone else's good time than his own. It was that thought while running his thumb over Cas's hip, that gave him the courage to ask:

"What if I want you, for real, not just in my imagination?"

Cas stilled, so completely and totally, that Dean was reminded this wasn't a human straddling his hips. "You...want me? Carnally?" He furrowed his brow as he regarded Dean.

Shit, I fucked up, I fucked up, shit, shit, shit! Dean sucked in a scared breath and tried to pull away and escape the car. "I...uh. Know what, I, um, I was outta line, shit, Cas, I'm-"

Cas gently put his hand over Dean's mouth to stop him. "Dean," he said quietly, yet with no less command in his voice. "Am I safe? Do you trust me?"

He didn't even need to think before he nodded. The hand over his mouth should have been tripping him up, but it wasn't, so Cas's point was made.

"Then, I'm happy to offer you companionship. I don't have any experience but am willing to learn." Cas spoke with businesslike efficiency. "I know I'm not your preferred gender." That part seemed to make him pause. "I suppose I could make myself-"

"No!" Dean shoved his hand off. It wouldn't be you! "You're hot like you are, don't go fixing what ain't broke." The joke landed flatter than a pancake. "Look, I get you're trying to be helpful," he said harshly. "But, please, don't offer this if you don't want it. You don't owe me anything."

Cas palmed his cheek again, a very tiny smile on his face. "I know that. I also know that, after the arcade, I liked it when you kissed me." He leaned forward and said lightly, "If you're amenable, I'd like to do it again."

Without preamble, Dean immediately pinched the back of his forearm hard enough to cause a red mark. He hissed in pain while muttering in awe, "This is real?"

Cas wanted to kiss him? Have sex with him? He was about to pinch himself again (fuck, maybe give himself a full-on titty twister, just to be sure), but Cas reached out and stilled his hand. With a confused frown, he tapped the mark and the bruise faded away. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not dreaming," was all Dean could manage to speak. He wondered if Cas could see an Error 404: Page Not Found warning flashing across his eyeballs.

Dean shook his head. Get it together, Winchester! His dick very much agreed with this assessment and twitched in his jeans. He glanced over Cas. Okay, logistics, but he froze on the actual realization that Cas wasn't a woman. Yeah, no shit Sherlock! Part of his brain helpfully yelled at the other half. But, this wasn't just a guy from a bar he wanted to try things with. This wasn't a guy; this was Cas. He had to make this the best possible experience for him. Cas might not let him have another chance. Guess I'll just do whatever girls do that I like? What they like? Shit, I dunno.

He swallowed and licked his lips, watching Cas follow the movement of his tongue like a cat watching the dot of a laser pointer. The angel looked at him with what Dean could only describe as sincere desire and want; face flushed and eyes dark in the pale light from the overhead light above them in the junkyard. Ok, so we're both on board, go to know.

"Alright, well then…." Taking the helm of their tiny ship, Dean reached forward and wrapped his fingers around Cas's tucked-in tie. "This okay?"

"More than," Cas said. When Dean tightened his grip on the tie and slowly dragged him down until just before they touched and stopped, Cas huffed in annoyance. "Why'd you stop?"

"Because the anticipation is half the fun."

Abruptly, Cas usurped Dean's control when he pulled Dean into a messy kiss that sucked the very air from his lungs. For a fraction of a second, Dean froze up, expecting pain when Cas deviated from his plan of slow and steady.

But Dean couldn't freeze long; Cas was the ocean and he was overwhelming in all the best ways. He kissed like a force of nature, full of fury and power behind those deceptively soft lips. The stubble against his face was such a wild contrast to the smooth faces of women he'd been with his whole life. The sandpapery feel was an addictive balance of pain and turn-on.

Cas's tongue swiping along his lips was enough to make him groan. Dean didn't try to hold out; he gave in, let Cas take what he wanted. He tasted salty like an ocean, but with an oddly sweet undertone he would have sworn was honey; the combination was strangely addictive.

Cursing the fact that he needed to breathe, Dean regretfully broke the kiss. Cas pulled back looking just as shell-shocked as he felt. "I thought you were a virgin?" Dean huffed.

Cas was a little smug. "Yes, but I've also been on your planet for a few thousand years. It would have been impossible for me to not observe various human mating behaviors."

What, were you standing in people's bedrooms like a creeper?

Seeing Cas with that cocky smirk made Dean's dick pulse painfully against the zipper of his jeans. Interestingly, Cas closed his eyes for a second when that happened. Curious, Dean reached between them and applied the pressure of his palm to his bulge, and Cas swallowed harshly.

"No way," Dean said, getting excited. "Is this a 'two dudes, one dick,' sort of thing?"

Sounding both intrigued and breathless, Cas said, "I suppose we'll figure it out as we go."

With renewed vigor, Dean grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it off of his head before he dropped it to the floor, the amulet warm against his skin. Cas's eyes darkened, and his mouth fell open just a little. He hungrily gazed over Dean's chest, shoulders, and stomach before they snapped back up to him.

"You can touch," Dean insisted. "Unless I say 'ouch, stop,' you can do what you want."

Gingerly, Cas dragged his fingers down Dean's neck, over his collarbone and tattoo, and down to his stomach. When Cas curiously ran a thumb over one of Dean's nipples, and he gasped, Dean could see the angel file that tidbit away for another time.

"Can I touch you, Cas?"

When he nodded, Dean kissed him again, enjoying the scrape of the stubble against his lips as he nipped down Cas's jawline to his neck. Cas tilted his head away to give Dean more skin to lick and suck on. Once he got to the collar of Cas's button-up, he tugged the tie out from the waistcoat and pulled it until undone. He popped the first few buttons on his dress shirt, just enough to expose the pulse point. Breathing deeply, Dean got a scent between a rainy, ancient forest and ozone, like lightning. It mingled with his own sweaty scent of cinnamon, gun oil, and leather.

"Smell so good, Cas," he growled into Cas's neck. He jerked the collar away just enough so he could suck on the skin, hard, only to soothe it afterward with his tongue. Cas's surprised gasp shot straight to his-their?-dick.

Dean unbuttoned the silver buttons of his waistcoat and left it open. He popped open the buttons of Cas's charcoal dress shirt. With each pop of a button, he left another peck on Cas's cheek. He gently pulled the tails of the shirt away from where they were tucked into Cas's dress pants. Cas chest and stomach were tanned with toned muscles and smooth skin. His nipples were dark and drew Dean's eye like little beacons. He ran his hands up and down Cas's ribs, over his pecs, and thumbed over the little hip bones jutting out from over the top of his dress pants. The smooth chest and bony hips didn't throw him so badly; in fact, the changes made him crave more.

Running his hands up and down Cas's thick thighs in his dress pants, around to grip his firm ass, Dean couldn't help but groan. Partially in appreciation, partially in unabashed lust. But seeing Cas watching him with dark, hooded eyes was the real kicker. "God, come here."

Dean ran his hands under Cas's open shirt and up to shoulder blades and pulled him closer until Dean could drag a tongue over one of the stiff nubs. "Dean!" Cas grabbed at his shoulders, trying to keep him close, and he writhed in Dean's lap; there was something off about the movement, though he was quickly distracted. Dean sucked on the nub for a few seconds and pulled back to see Cas's eyes closed, panting like he'd run a marathon.

"Feels good?" Cas nodded enthusiastically. "Cool," he said to himself. Not that much difference between a girl and a guy in that regard, it seems.

When he moved his hand downward, he realized what the weird thing had been. Cas didn't have any sort of bulge in his pants. Not even the inclination of one when he brushed his groin area and he didn't react. As soon as Dean pushed against his demanding hard-on through his jeans, though, Cas's eyes fluttered shut as ground his hips down. Okay, point made; his dick was actually their dick. It was the weirdest and hottest concept he was trying to wrap his brain around until Cas moaned his name in his own ear. Then all higher thought left the building.

With his hands quickly roaming over Cas's chest, he pulled Cas to him and pushed away his open shirt so he could suck on and mark up all the skin. Cas had a hand on Dean's waist and the other bracing on his shoulder. "Dean," he swallowed. "There's a lot of sensations," he reported, his eyes screwed up tight.

Dean stopped and pulled back. "Good or bad?"

"Good?" Cas's eyes were a little glazed over when he managed to crack them open. "I think?"

With a smug little grin, Dean said, "And we haven't even left the starting gate yet."

Oh, how his chest puffed up with pride at seeing Cas so debauched, and they'd barely done anything. He grabbed Cas's arms and moved them until they lay on his shoulders, able to reach the back of his neck or the back of the seat for leverage. Dean still marveled at how real Cas felt in his lap, under his hands, breathing in the same air.

Kissing Cas again was like catching lightning in a bottle; electricity seemed to crackle against his lips and dance over his tongue. While he'd started slowly, Cas surged forward and deepened the kiss, his tongue greedily exploring everywhere it could reach. There was absolutely no finesse from Cas, and it was fantastic. His enthusiasm was enough to make Dean so satisfied just making out he almost forgot there was an endgame.

Trying not to lose control, he'd automatically palmed his dick to relieve some pressure from his jeans. Instead, Cas shook in his lap at the touch and keened. Such a desperate little sound revved his engine like nobody's business, and suddenly the endgame was very much remembered.

God, what sounds was Cas actually going to make while coming in his lap? Keep thinking shit like that, and I'm gonna come in my jeans-goddamn.

He laid a kiss on Cas's chin and grinned up at him; at least on the outside, he could appear like he knew what he was doing. "I'm gonna take the lead, so just hold on. Let me know if you don't like anything, okay?"

Cas gave him a determined nod, though his eyelashes fluttered when Dean peppered his lips and jawline with little desperate kisses. Once he got the soft spot under Cas's ear, the gentle scrape of teeth synchronized to the release of his zipper. With both hands, he shoved his wet boxer-briefs down enough to get his dick out in the open. That barest touch made Cas hiss. "Dean."

Dean took his hard dick in his hand, familiarizing himself with its weight and feel, the cut skin soft and hot to the touch, though it was red and already leaking pre-come. He winked at Cas. "Gotta say, you do good work."

Cas peered down between them before he pointed out, "You are, first and foremost, one of my Father's masterpieces, Dean. I simply rebuilt you."

"Semantics, man," Dean said. He licked the shell of Cas's ear before he whispered huskily, "Just enjoy the ride, Cas; I've got you."

He held onto Cas's hip with his left hand and brought his right palm to his mouth. After licking it several times to coat it in saliva, he then gently, experimentally, tugged on himself a few times. A groan came from one of them, though he wasn't sure who.

Well, it seemed sex was like riding a bike; once you knew, you knew.

He'd managed to tamp down any errant thought of Hell pretty decently, but they were trying to claw in now. He had to stop for a second, get his head back on straight when flashes of bloody memories tried to interrupt and-

"Dean?"

Goddammit, why'd I have to think about this shit now? Fuck! When Dean opened his eyes to reassure Cas, he was struck mute by those lust-blown baby blues watching him with concern. "Are you okay? Should we stop?"

Dean swallowed hard, and his dick pulsed with a horny vengeance. "'m good. Promise." Like water dousing a fire, peering into Cas's eyes seemed to have washed away the errant thoughts for now. Relicking his hand, he began to jerk them off earnestly. Seeing Cas's eyes roll up in his head was worth the momentary hang-up. It meant he got a few extra seconds to enjoy Cas squirming in his lap, biting his lip.

Shit, it felt so good, his hand racing along his slick dick with practiced ease. There was a moment when he shifted up a gear, twisting his wrist at the head that almost made him lose it because that's when Cas started dropping little ohs and ahs with each stroke.

Jesus, that raspy voice is going to be the death of me…

"Dean, there's a, I feel a-" Cas could barely breathe out a word-he desperately switched to their mental channel to demand What is that? Dean could feel the familiar sensation building at the bottom of his spine.

"Orgasm," Dean hissed, licking his lips. "Big one. Fuck, it's gonna be good. Been so damn long." His hand moved faster as he chased the wave, desperate to drag Cas over the crest with him.

Dean? Cas sounded distressed, so Dean opened his eyes to see Cas was staring at him pretty much in wide-eyed panic. He immediately slowed their roll. What do I do, I've never-?

Oh god, this is Cas's first orgasm! That thought sent him rocketing right back up; Don't fight it, just ride it out. He squeezed a few more drops of fluid from his dick to ease their way. Cas shuddered when he thumbed the slit and buried his face in Dean's neck.

Dean, whatever you're doing, please don't stop… While his words echoed around Dean's head, Cas was groaning and whining under his breath. Dean could feel his hot breath puffing out across his collarbone, in desperate tandem with his pounding heart.

Oh fuck, I can't deal with Cas begging in surround sound. "Shit, Cas, gonna make me come just listening to you," he growled into Cas's ear. "Come on, Cas. I got you."

Surprising him once again, Cas sat up and pulled Dean into a sloppy, bruising kiss; entwining their tongues, he squeezed his thighs hard around Dean's, bracing for-

Swallowing each other's groans, they shuddered and spilled hot into Dean's hand for several long seconds. Then, like puppets with their strings cut, they collapsed limply together.

When Dean opened his eyes, he was greeted with a panting, sweaty, disheveled Cas that would have made him chub up again instantly if he were younger. The angel was hazy-eyed and relaxed; or, softer around the edges a little as he sat back. Seeing Cas softer, and vulnerable, Dean thought in awe: I did that to an angel.

They gave each other little matching smiles as they came down. "Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Dean." Dean just snorted at the deadpan greeting.

Letting his head hit the seat, Dean breathed out an exhausted, "Holy fuck."

Cas hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose this would count."

Dean laughed, long and hard, until he was shaking silently. He blinked up at Cas, tears making his eyes misty. The fucker was smirking like an idiot, clearly proud of himself. Dean couldn't help leaning up to kiss his forehead. "Never change, Cas," Dean said.

He was about to touch him when he realized his hand was still a mess of saliva and sticky come. Their come. "Oh, uh…"

Glancing down, Cas snapped his fingers, and everything was cleaned up. They were no longer sweaty messes, and Cas's clothes were put back together. Something about the absolute lack of evidence made him feel weird. Almost like this had been a super lucid dream and he was going to wake up any second.

"Kinda blasphemous, using your powers like that," he instead teased.

Despite the damn afterglow, Cas still managed to roll his eyes. "Good thing impiety is one of the perks I get to fully enjoy as a Fallen."

"And good thing I'm into it," Dean added, wiggling his eyebrows.

They sat for a moment, both still a little unsure and waiting for the other to make the first move. Cas broke the silence first. "Is it always that...intense?" He questioned.

"When it's good, absolutely," Dean said proudly.

"I think I understand your species predilection for sex now," Cas said into Dean's naked shoulder, nuzzling it while the man tucked his softening dick back into his boxers and then jeans. "Can we do that again?" Cas purred.

Dean's grin faltered for just a second as something inside him deflated. What am I getting hung up on? I just had an incredible orgasm with Cas, which was the whole point of this! Everything is fuckin' golden right now. Take what you can get and stop being such a damn girl.

When he saw how seriously Cas was eyeing him, he snickered. "Dude, ever heard of a refractory period? I need a minute."

"Is that all?" Cas tapped Dean's dick through his jeans and it was suddenly hard as concrete.

Dean stared down at himself and scratched the back of his head. "Okay, that's awesome, but I'd still like to tap out for a few." With another touch, Dean's dick was back to normal. "We are definitely revisiting that," he promised, slightly dizzy from the blood rushing back and forth.

A yawn surprised him as he leaned down to grab his shirt to pull back on. Noticing Cas sitting back, something made him lean forward and very purposefully mess up Cas's hair and tug his tie just slightly loose and askew. "Dean?" Cas asked.

"You just got laid; you can lighten up a little," Dean playfully explained. To remember me by; to prove this actually happened.

Cas huffed and leaned in to kiss Dean pretty chastely, considering what they just did. His eyes darted over Dean's face. "Do you feel better, Dean?"

He nodded. "Yeah. How about you? Was it, uh, good for you? Worth the hype?"

Cas cleared his throat. "It was enjoyable because it was you."

Dean stretched his arms up and out and yawned again. "Course it was enjoyable with me; I'm awesome," he preened as he patted Cas's thigh. "Now, move it, thunder thighs. I'm losing circulation."

"No you're not," Cas argued, yet it was not nearly as snarky as he could have delivered it as he slid off Dean's lap to sit next to him. Seemed like getting Cas laid helped him just as much, and Dean beamed a little.

Outside the fogged-up windows, the rain had stopped; the air was still and silent around them. He breathed in the scent of the Impala's leather seats and sex, which helped to cement that this had actually happened.

He should make a break for the house while the going was good. Glancing at his watch, he groaned at the realization that it was going to be dawn any minute. Trying to get back to sleep seemed like a waste of time now.

In a bizarre turn of events, Cas was blinking slowly, ready to keel over. "Cas, you okay? Did I break you?"

Cas tried to glare at him, but it came out cross-eyed. "I just need to recharge."

"It's okay, buddy, it happens to every guy," Dean laughed at Cas's put-out grunt. "Look, take a nap before you give yourself wrinkles. I'll check on Sam. Sound like a plan?"

Cas leaned forward and kissed him again, hard and utterly sloppy. Before Little Dean could take him up on that instant hard-on feature, the angel disappeared, leaving the car silent and empty.

After he dropped his carefree smile, Dean was left with an ache in his chest that he was pretty sure one-night stands never gave him before Hell. I'm so fucked.

AN:

Alright, what do y'all think? I pulled my hair out over this scene the whole week, but I must say, I'm very proud of how it came out. I hope the balance of angst to humor and sweet, sexy times hit just right! And we ALL know there's no way ANYTHING got misconstrued between them, right? :D