SPN's My Bloody Valentine Parody – Chapter 4

By Eli_Rogue

AN: I am not in the habit of writing graphic stuff – please let me know if it was okay.

For the life of him, Dean Winchester couldn't figure out why he had been protesting so much before. As he strained to stare at the back of Castiel's head, he tried to think of a reason – any reason. It certainly wasn't any lack of fondness for the Angel – and while 'nerdy' wasn't usually his type, Cas was easily attractive enough for Dean, even while sober. Dean figured it might have something to do with the fact that Cas was a man, but that just didn't seem to matter to him anymore. He smiled when Cas finished finagling with his shoes and finally got his slacks all the way off.

Their eyes met in silent understanding when Castiel turned around to continue ravishing him: Dean no longer wished to get away. Cas lifted the bondage spell and they embraced on the floor, taking their time with Dean's first consensual (more or less) kiss with Castiel.

Cas casually slid a finger under the waistband of Dean's underwear, but was prevented from removing the offending article by Dean's hand. He looked into the man's eyes, which betrayed frustratingly little of his mental or emotional states. Had he changed his mind? He hoped he wouldn't have to bind him to the floor again. "What's the matter?" Cas asked.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "How come I'm down to my socks and underwear, and you haven't even taken off that damn coat?"

Cas blinked at the question. He supposed Dean had a point, and in another blink, Cas's state of undress mirrored Dean's. "Is this more satisfactory?"

"Oh, yeah." After all, Castiel had a very nice body. Dean couldn't say it was the nicest male body he'd seen in person – unfortunately, that probably belonged to Sammy. But it was still fantastic – especially for a holy tax accountant. His bulky, boring clothes didn't do it justice at all.

They continued to make out and touch each other all over, shortly finding themselves divested of what little clothing they had left. Dean found out that Castiel's body felt as nice as it looked. Especially his ass; Cas had an ass for days. In fact, it might have been Dean's favorite part of his body. Dean attributed its firmness to the fact that the Angel never sat, therefore never squishing it.

It wasn't long before Castiel maneuvered himself between Dean's legs. Excited as he was, Dean couldn't help but feel like something important was missing when something whacked the side of his head. His hand flew there reflexively to see what it was, only to wind up grasping the bottle of K-Y that Cupid had so generously left them. Dean looked around to see how it got there and saw Gabriel wave cheerfully at him. He was leaning against Sam, who was tied to the column (though he could have sworn they'd already left). Sam's eyes were boring into him in a way that would have been unsettling had he not been more interested in something else.

Dean handed the lube to Cas, then leaned back to watch him work his magic. He was reminded of Castiel's still-intact (for now) virginity when the first thing Castiel did was read the instructions on the bottle. Dean thought that was adorable. Not terribly confidence-building... but adorable. Finally, Cas opened the bottle, squirted some of the jelly on his hand, and examined it closely with those innocent, curious eyes of his.

"Hey, Castiel!" they heard Gabriel call out from beside a very distraught-looking Sam, whose eyes were still painfully open. "Rub it on your dick, and use the rest of it to stretch out his asshole!"

That was a bit more vulgar than Dean would have said it... maybe... but it seemed to do the trick. Dean got to watch as Cas spread the lube up and down his shaft with rapidly increasing confidence. He only stared at his messy, lubricated hand for a moment before gently sliding a finger into Dean's virgin manhole... the only part of Dean that still was virgin.

Dean allowed his head and shoulders to fall back to the floor so he could close his eyes and concentrate on the new sensations he was experiencing. Now, as much as he adored Castiel, having someone's lubricated finger in his butt wasn't the greatest feeling in the world. Two was about the same, and three was a little uncomfortable. He got a head rush as he felt those fingers leave and something else press up against his hole. For several seconds, as it stayed there, awaiting admittance, he could just make out the sound of someone talking over the blood in his ears.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Cas pressed in, oh-so-slowly filling Dean with his cock. It was much, much better than the fingers. It may have had something to do with the natural smoothness of a penis, and it probably had a lot to do with the fact that penises don't have nails, but this was something he could enjoy 'til death do us part.

Cas pulled back just as slowly, and pushed back in a little faster. He sped up more slowly than necessary, but then this was his first time, and eventually, he'd learn exactly what to do to Dean. In the meantime, though, Dean had to urge him, "Faster."

What he got in response was both faster and harder. Much better. After several rapidly intensifying thrusts, when Dean wasn't sure anal sex could get better, there was that pesky voice again, and something changed. Dean nearly screamed. He couldn't put into words what he felt, but if he could, he would have called it an explosion. There was this fantastic shockwave of pleasure radiating from somewhere in his rear, sending ripples of joy to every fiber of his being. And it jolted him over and over and over and over and... well, you get the idea.

Dean had no idea how loud he was being – very – but even if he had, he wouldn't have cared. After a few minutes of rough fucking, Castiel only had to stroke his cock once... twice... three times before he came, covering himself in about a teaspoon of pearly white goo. Normally, this would be about the time Cas collapsed on Dean, the latter's semen adhering their stomachs together, but Cas was an Angel with infinite stamina.

Instead of collapsing, Cas chose to freeze in place, watching Dean pant and wheeze in ecstasy. It was better than even watching the man sleep. They laid like that for a while as Dean struggled to catch his breath. Every now and then, they exchanged kisses: little pecks about the face and neck intertwined with a few deep, passionate smooches. Their fingers combed each other's short hair and caressed each other's toned muscles. Dean thought that if he pierced his left nipple, and Cas pierced his right nipple, they'd clink when they fucked. The fantasy turned him on again, and he opened his eyes to gaze at Cas.

He snapped them shut again as they were accosted by a bright, burning light that Dean feared was Castiel's true form. Of course, if he'd just gone blind, he thought it might have hurt more. Slowly, he opened his eyes again and saw that the bright light didn't come from Castiel, but rather from behind him. He looked around in surprise. They were no longer in the storage room of a bar – they were outside.

Nearby was a large lake that was teeming with ducks and waterlilies. They were laying on the wet sand bordering the lake. Last Dean knew, it was nighttime, so he was naturally curious when he asked, "Where are we?"

"This place has many names," Cas answered unhelpfully.

"Any that I'd recognize?"

"You know it as The Garden of Eden."

"What?" Dean's shocked interjection was interrupted by a hand over his mouth. Cas was giving him a familiar I'll-let-go-if-you'll-be-quiet look, and Dean nodded.

"A Seraph guards the entrance to the Garden; no humans have been allowed since the banishment of Adam and Eve." Cas cast a wary glance over the lake. "We must not attract his attention."

Dean smiled, already having concocted a plan. "Well then," he whispered, rolling them over to land atop Castiel, "we better not make too much noise." He kissed Castiel harder than he had yet and slipped between his thighs despite the smaller man's weak and unenthusiastic protests.

"We shouldn't do this, Dean. The sentinel could discover our presence."

Dean pouted melodramatically. "So you don't want to fuck me in the Garden of Eden? I mean, that's why we're here, right?" Predictably, Cas succumbed to Dean's requests, and the two of them made passionate, silent love in the sand of a beach in the Garden of Eden.

Afterward, when they were certain that the Seraph was blissfully unaware of their trespass, they were free to explore the vast Garden at their leisure. Just past the sandy fringes of the lake's beach were patches of vine-grown fruits and vegetables. Dean wasn't one to eat a lot of things that weren't greasy, processed, or artificial, but he'd be lying if he said those strawberries didn't look delicious. He popped one into his mouth with the intent of just having one or two but soon found himself so full he could hardly breathe. He got Cas to sit with him in the adjacent pumpkin patch and listen while he told him everything he knew about pumpkin pie. In fact, Dean got himself so excited at the thought of pie that, when he finished his anecdote, he lay Cas across a mass of vines and did him between two large pumpkins.

They slowly followed a dirt trail hand-in-hand for a while, exchanging stories about successful hunts and inconsistencies in the King James Bible. It eventually led to a small bridge that transversed a stoney creek. Dean allowed Cas to bend him over the banister of the bridge as he watched the koi blink up at him. Stupid, judgmental fish. On the other side of the bridge was an apple orchard. Walking through it made Dean feel like he was in Oz, and he kept an eye on the trees lest they start chucking fruit at him. Dean quickly reassured himself that the trees weren't alive – not in the Dorothy Gale way, in any case – but also realized they weren't all apple trees. There were peach and orange and cherry trees, as well as many more both familiar and foreign to Dean.

Cas found a smooth clearing with particularly soft grass in the middle of two apple trees and a pear tree. Dean bottomed, once again, allowing himself to relax in Castiel's hands and watch the sunlight filter through the treetops. In that moment, he thought that, if Heaven were as good as this, his free will would be a small price to pay to feel like this forever. Of course, his innate obstinacy kicked in, and he reminded himself that he would never, ever say, 'Yes,' to Michael. The only Angel he'd allow inside him was Cas – and that was just his penis.

Though, now that they'd done it several times, Dean realized he really had to pee. He usually didn't wait so long after doing it one time to relieve himself, much less five times. He'd never had a lover that could distract him so efficiently from this basic human bodily function. He wriggled his way free of Castiel's comfy embrace, explaining with an apologetic tone that this was just one of those things humans had to do.

Not wanting to pee right in front of Cas, he wandered several yards away until he found a good peeing tree and relieved himself upon it. He was immensely proud of himself for not getting any on his feet or legs and rewarded himself with indulging in picking a fruit from the tree.

It was a strange fruit, like a purple pear-apple hybrid, and he couldn't smell it through its skin, but if those strawberries he had earlier were any indication, it would be scrumptious. He rubbed it against one of its own leaves in an attempt to clean it as he heard soft footsteps approach.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up from the pome in his hand. Although Castiel's expressions had gotten easier to read in the last year, he wasn't sure if the Angel looked pissed or disgusted. "Yeah?"

"Did you just... urinate on the Tree of Life?" Cas asked incredulously.

"Uh..." Tree of Life? Dean knew little about The Bible, and what he did know was all from Revelations, which didn't seem to cover the Garden of Eden. However, now that Cas mentioned it, he recalled that there was, in fact, a sacred tree that people weren't supposed to eat from. Was this that tree?

Cas's focus shifted slightly, and his jaw clenched. "Did you pluck a fruit from the Tree of Life?" Angry. That was definitely angry.

Dean hid the fruit behind his back and guessed with a crooked grin, "No?"

Before Cas could scold him (or maybe spank him, Dean considered hopefully), there was a terrible, Earth-shaking screech that nearly made Dean jump out of his skin. Cas searched the garden for whatever made the noise. "Get down!" He hissed suddenly, throwing Dean to the ground at the base of the tree.

"Eeeeew," Dean complained as his naked legs and side were pressed against the newly-wet bark and dirt. The last time he was covered in pee was... Okay, wrong-kind-of-kinky chicks aside, the last time was when Sam was four and he wet the bed they were sharing. Not that it mattered to Cas; he was peering around the tree like a child playing hide-and-seek, smashing his groin into Dean's face in the process. Dean playfully poked Cas's penis.

Cas looked down at him. "This is serious, Dean," he whispered. "The Sentinel has realized something is wrong." There was another loud noise, and Cas glanced toward the source once more. "We must leave. Now." He put his hand on Dean's head, and they were no longer in the Garden.

Instead, they were back in the darkened, cheesy bathroom of their darkened, cheesy motel room, and Dean quickly discovered that sitting butt-naked on an 80's-style floor vent was uncomfortable. Cas was still deathly tense, which made Dean tense, and they sat (in Dean's case) and stood (in Cas's case) just like that for a couple minutes, waiting for the Seraph to track them there.

Eventually, when Dean was pretty sure it wasn't coming after them (and why should it, with their fancy ribcage sigils, and all?), he stood up, flipped the light-switch, and broke the silence. "I need a shower."

"And I must bring this back to Eden," Cas countered, taking the fruit away from Dean. "I will return before the cessation of your shower." He moved as if to step away from Dean, but Dean grabbed his wrist.

"What's the rush?" he asked. "I mean, that Seraph was pretty pissed. You might want to give him some time to cool off." He took in Cas's grimy appearance – the sand in his hair, the grass stains on his hands and knees, the dirt-and-jizz-caked torso – and added, "Besides, you could use a shower, too."

Cas cocked his head. "Dean, I do not require manual means of cleansing this body."

"But it's kind of drafty in here, and the water's nice and hot," he singsonged in an attempt to entice the Angel.

"Angels are not susceptible to the idiosyncrasies of temperature."

"Damn it, Cas," Dean huffed, "I wanna fuck in the shower."

Cas blinked. "Oh," he responded, feeling a tad foolish. "Very well." He set the fruit on the counter and allowed Dean to lead him into the bathtub.

And he thought the Impala was confining. He found out the hard way that, when it came to a lack of personal space, the back seat of a classic car had nothing on a dingy motel tub. He patiently waited in the back corner of the tub as Dean toyed with the hot and cold knobs before finally turning the shower on.

Dean grabbed the manliest-looking bottle of shower gel Walgreen's carried, lathered some on a washcloth, and handed it to Castiel.

Cas eyed the rag dubiously. "I thought you intended for us to... 'fuck.'"

Dean closed his eyes and shivered at the dirty word coming out of Cas's mouth. Good thing there was soap nearby. "It's supposed to be erotic," Dean explained. "If you don't like soaping me up, we don't ever have to do this again."

"I see." As it turned out, Cas truly enjoyed washing Dean. This way, he got to explore every part of Dean's spectacular body without... what did Dean call it?... 'that creepy vibe.' At first, he gently applied the soap to Dean's back, but he scrubbed with more fervor when Dean commanded, "Harder." He should have known Dean would like it rough given the way he made love.

As he made his way down Dean's back, he lingered a little – okay, a lot longer than necessary on Dean's butt. But why wouldn't he? It was a nice butt, hard like 2014 Dean, yet perky like 2005 Dean.

"Make sure you're thorough, Cas; I'm a dirty boy."

"You're hardly a boy, Dean, though you seem to have accumulated enough filth on your body during our –" He stopped mid-sentence when he caught sight of Dean staring at him over his shoulder in amusement and realized it was probably just a human thing. "Yes, you are certainly a 'dirty boy.'"

Cas managed to finish washing Dean without engaging in anything more than eyesex – and they'd been doing that since they first met. Then, he learned that being washed by Dean could be just as pleasurable as washing him. Oh, they'd gotten plenty of physical contact traipsing around the Garden of Eden, but there was something decidedly more intimate about the kind of touching required during a shower. It was nice to have Dean caress every inch of his body with the soapy rag while the shower-head pummeled him with water. It was like being in a rainstorm... a sexy rainstorm.

Now, when it came time to do this 'fucking' Dean had promised Cas, Dean knew better than to use soap in place of lube. So, he reached for Sam's fancy hair conditioner instead. Dean couldn't list all the metro things he made fun of Sam for doing or having, but this high-priced, only-available-at-'salons' crap was one of his favorites. That, and calling them 'salons.' Please. Dean may have been the one about to fuck a man in the shower, but at least he wasn't girly.

He squirted about a quarter of the bottle's total volume into his palm and started stroking himself. It wasn't that he needed that much; he just wanted to irritate Sam. It was his second favorite pastime after sex. And if he could do both at once, great!

"Okay," he said, facing Castiel. "Hop on."

Cas frowned. "I do not understand."

"Here's how it works, Cas: you jump up, wrap your legs around me, and we'll do it that way."

Cas's brow furrowed as he glanced around the shower. "Are you sure you should be engaging in acrobatics in such a slippery environment at your age?"

Dean gaped at Cas. Did he just imply that he was old? "At 'my age'? I'm thirty-one!" He sputtered as he tried to express too many objections at once. Cas, for instance, had to be thousands of years old. And while men his age who had spent their twenties studying and sitting at a desk tended to be tubby and out of shape, Dean spent his hunting, fighting, and generally keeping very fit. His raw, undeniable sexiness should have been proof enough of that. As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure that he was in better physical condition than most early-twenties men in their sexual peaks. So where the Hell did that insolent Angel get off calling him old? Speaking of getting off, "Just do it; I'll be fine, I promise!"

Cas shrugged – a more human thing than Dean was used to seeing him do – and tried it. He leapt onto Dean in a way most people romanticize would be fun and playful.

Dean learned something then. He learned that Cas was very smart – that, or he was psychic. Either way, Dean didn't enjoy it when he slipped backwards, hit his head on the wall and his tailbone on the bathtub... twice. Bouncing was a bitch.

Hitting his tailbone made him yelp in a way he'd deny later, and he hissed through his teeth. For a moment, all he could do was sit there under Cas's wet, immaculate body, torn between soothing his aching coccyx and his aching cock. Of course, this was Dean Winchester, and no amount of blood lost or limbs dangling by a tendon and three inches of skin could keep him from getting laid.

He disguised a groan of pain as a moan of pleasure in a way he thought was smooth – though it wasn't – and asked, "Mmm, isn't this nice?"

Castiel looked him unflinchingly in the face. His eyes said, "I can see into your soul, you idiot, and I know you hurt yourself but are too adorably stubborn to admit it," but his lips said, "Is this how you would like to copulate?"

Dean leaned back in the tub, feigning serenity. "Ready when you are." As Cas leaned forward, Dean realized he was surprised that they hadn't done the cowgirl thing yet. Er, cowboy. Cowangel? Whatever. The point is: they hadn't fucked with one of them straddling the other from the top, and Dean tended to really enjoy this position.

Cas slowly lowered himself onto Dean's hard penis, which was, needless to say, very nice. It made Dean forget all about his maybe-broken tailbone and really groan in pleasure this time. That is, until Cas switched from gentle to maniac like that. Just imagine someone snapping their fingers, okay? Thanks.

The Angel of the Lord started impaling himself viciously on Dean's cock, which normally would have been a great thing, but ended up repeatedly jamming Dean's tender tailbone against the cast-iron tub. Dean made a strangled, painful noise, and quickly cried, "Stop!"

Cas didn't look that surprised when he condescendingly asked, "Is something wrong, Dean?"

Dean had little hope of hiding his discomfort, what with his comically scrunched-up face and all, but he tried to pass it off as something else. "It's just... your feet are pinching my hips." He pretended that Cas looked like he believed him. "Do you think we could move to the floor and finish there?"

Castiel seemed tempted to insist on staying in the tub, which worried Dean. After all, he was far too macho to admit that a little pain could keep him from enjoying an orgasm, and he would just end up spending the next twenty minutes or so dying a little inside with every desperate thrust. Thankfully, Cas agreed, got out of the tub, and got on his hands and knees on the bathroom rug. He looked over his shoulder and asked with a twinkle in his eye, "Coming?"

Make that ten minutes. "Yeah," he said, trying to get to his feet without groaning, creaking, or popping. He still couldn't believe Castiel thought he was old. Moving on, he grabbed Sam's hair conditioner and followed Cas out of the tub.

He squirted some of the conditioner directly onto Cas this time and let it fall to the floor next to them. He didn't bother to ease in, as they had already started and he knew for a fact that Cas was ready, making the Angel gurgle with surprise. That reaction gave Dean a smug sense of justice since he knew that Cas had intentionally aggravated his tailbone owie. But then he felt a little guilty; it's not like he could have harmed Cas, even if he tried, but only bitches used sex as a weapon, and Dean Winchester was no bitch.

As he thrust in and out of Castiel, he leaned forward and kissed the scratches he'd put there earlier that day. For a while, their rhythm went something like this: thrust, moan (Cas) and kiss (Dean), pull back, repeat. The conditioner pulled its weight as a lubricant better than the few other conditioners he'd tried in the past, and an unfortunate thought occurred to Dean as he was approaching climax. Perhaps Sam indulged in expensive conditioners because of its secondary use as a lubricant. Was Sam's lack of desire for busty blonde bimbos due to whacking it in the shower regularly? He hoped not – he had to use the shower after him half the time.

And why the fuck was he thinking about Sam's masturbatory habits during sex? Eew, eew, eew! Oh, no, he was losing stiffness! He had to think of something quick! Boobs! Okay, not working so much for gay sex... The Impala! That helped a little, but not enough. Warm apple pie!

Bingo.

You know, some people think that ADD is no big deal, but clearly, it can ruin lives.

As he neared climax again, he smeared his hand in the conditioner and gave Cas a reach-around. Since Dean was so skilled between the sheets (or on the bathroom floor, as it were), he was able to time his thrusts and strokes perfectly so that they came at the same time. Granted, all of his previous experiences had been with women (because he's not counting that one time he was drunk and that guy in the kilt had a very small adam's apple – he's not, damn it!), but his natural talent was such that he didn't need much experience at all to be compatible with Castiel. Also, and he didn't know this, he just so happened to be destined to be with Castiel forever.

Castiel spilled himself all over the tile floor and absorbent rug – though he was fairly spent from spending most of the day spilling himself various ways. Dean almost came inside of Cas – and had no concern for pregnancy or STD's should he have done so – but decided at the last minute to pull out and shoot his load at the floor, where it merged with Cas's in a sticky parallel to what the two of them had just finished doing.

They rested for a moment. Actually, Cas allowed Dean to rest draped bonelessly (pun definitely intended) over him. Then, they stood together and left the tiny bathroom, taking care to not step in the mess they just created together.

They crawled into Dean's bed together with surprisingly little intent to fuck again. Instead, they agreed that cuddling was in order and, in Dean's case, sleep.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean asked when they were snugly under the covers.

"Yes?"

"How do you say, 'You are so sexy,' in Enochian?"

Cas thought about it. "There is no literal translation for 'sexy,' Dean. Until I met you, Angels had no need for it." He considered it a moment longer and suggested, "I suppose I could say, 'OL G-CHIS-GE OLLOR BABALOND.'"

Dean smiled. "What does that mean?"

"'You're a whore.'"

Dean gasped at the gibe. "Hey!"

"But I would prefer to tell you that OL G-CHIS-GE IAL VVRBS, OLLOG OD OLANI HOATH OL."

This time, Dean was a little more suspicious. "And what does that mean?" he asked with a wary pout.

Cas shifted to look Dean in the eye. "You are truly beautiful, and I love you," he translated, kissing him hard on the lips.

Dean grinned like an idiot into the kiss and laid his head on Castiel's chest. He fell asleep quickly, as he was known to do, and soon Castiel found himself watching Dean sleep for the hundredth time – only this time he didn't feel like a voyeur. Watching someone sleep was so much better when that person knew about it and didn't mind. Dean slept for several hours, and Cas was thrilled to bear witness to every snore, grunt, and glob of drool that came out of the mortal man. As the hours trudged on, Cas was consumed on more than one occasion with the urge to awaken him for more fornication, but he didn't have the heart to deprive Dean of his rest. Dean worked hard, was clearly exhausted, and deserved his slumber. Sex would have to wait.

Sometime in the evening, however, that line of thinking came screeching to a halt. It wasn't that he no longer desired to feel Dean's body on, under, in, and around him – that was just the same as it had been since he'd seen his breathtaking soul in Hell. No, it changed from, I should wait to ravish him until he's awoken by himself, to, What have I done? Dean would never have consented to this had he not been influenced by Cupid. The guilt he felt was worse than any emotion he had ever experienced – in the past year and a half, anyway. He wanted to stay away from Dean, he wanted to hug Dean, he wanted to beg for his forgiveness... Mostly, he wanted things to be the way they had been twenty-four hours earlier, when he was silently pining away for a Dean Winchester that was straight, stubborn, and destined to bring about the End of Days.

He carefully tried to extricate himself from Dean, but the larger man's embrace only tightened, and Cas had no way of leaving without disturbing him. He knew he only had a couple of minutes until Cupid's spell on Dean wore off and there would be Hell to pay.

His designs for a speedy getaway were interrupted by a sudden loud, high-pitched honking noise that made Cas twitch and Dean wake with a start.

"Sam?" Dean asked sleepily. Sam had indeed returned, but not in the suit he had been wearing when they last saw each other one day earlier. Dean blinked at his brother a few times, expecting to see something else – anything else – but just ended up confused. "What's with the clown getup?"

Sam wearily sighed, "Don't ask."

A/N: Meh, this one wasn't as good as the first few, methinks. This is what I get for pandering to the masses. Well, next time I write a one-shot and someone subscribes to a story alert, I'm going to ignore them. Maybe. *fail* Probably not. /-_-\

In my defense, I haven't written graphic stuff before... unless you count one LOTR spongebath, like, 7 years ago. You should have seen me writing the sex in the shower part: "Cas slowly lowered himself onto Dean's..." *rubs face* "...h-a-r-d..." *rubs face more vigorously* "...p-e-n-i-s" *complains*, lol

Enochian found at tikaboo-dot-com.

Also, I learned a new word that I must use in my story: fatidic – of, related to, or characterized by prophecy. Naturally, it applies to Dean and Castiel's relationship.