Dean can't believe this is actually happening. He is sitting next to Cas in a cab on the way back to his room to continue the make-out session they started on the ride up the mountain. The two have managed to keep their hands off of each other since they got off the ski lift, but just barely. And the one thing he can't seem to stop doing is looking at Cas. Every time he catches Cas' eyes it's like he get stuck, lost, trapped in that gaze.

He manages to break away and stare out the window, willing himself to calm down. He really doesn't want to come across like the nervous virgin here but in some ways he kind of is. Sure, he had had a little fun with one guy a few years ago - some frottage and mutual blow jobs - but it hadn't really meant anything. It was all just a sloppy, drunken haze of sex. He didn't even know or care what the guy's last name was until the asshole tried to blackmail him. And after that disastrous experience he had sworn off men completely. Women were easier, and certainly less controversial. Plus, he had plenty of experience with girls. He'd been in and out of their beds since he was fifteen and was pretty sure a few of his exploits could make even a porn star blush.

But this… this is new. Cas is a dude, a seriously hot and pretty famous dude whose been out of the closet for years (and in the figure skating world at that – not exactly slim pickings for gay men). Not to mention, judging by the expert ways his tongue and hands and voice were seducing Dean on that ski lift, he knows his way around another man. And while Dean's body is practically on fire thinking about all the implications of that, he's also feeling a little nervous about holding up his end of this party. Fuck! He hasn't been nervous about sex in years.

And then there's the whole… feelings thing. Dean hasn't been able to stay away from Cas since the first moment he fell into the man's amazing blue eyes. And every moment he has spent with him since then has been better than the last. Cas makes him feel fantastic. Around Cas he feels free to be exactly who he is and feels good to be just himself. He can turn off Dean Winchester number 67, first round draft pick, leading goal scorer, team captain, Olympian, face and voice of the team. Cas feels like home and comfort and Dean doesn't even understand why.

He is lost in his thoughts until a warm ungloved hand lightly snakes its way over his thigh. He looks down at Cas' hand, admiring the long graceful fingers as they inch slowly up his leg. Biting down on the groan that tries to escape his throat, he chances a glance at Cas, who has about the best poker face he's ever seen. Seriously, the guy is staring straight ahead with an expression so stoic that no one would ever guess the sinful things his hands are doing in the back seat. Good thing too, because the taxi driver picks that moment to look in the rear view mirror and start up a conversation.

"So… athlete's village, yes? Are you both competing?" The cab driver asks.

"Yes," Cas answers, "My friend here plays hockey and I figure skate."

The cab driver must recognize Cas' accent because he says something in Russian to Cas who responds back in his native language. Dean is actually grateful that he doesn't have to try to pay attention to the conversation because his mind is currently short circuiting as Cas' pinky ever so lightly traces the inseam of his jeans over his now growing bulge. Jesus! He wants to throw his head back, let out the breath he is holding, and just get lost in that touch but he's got to keep his shit together. He practically bites a hole on the inside of his lip when Cas' nails drag up the inside of his thigh.

By the time the car stops his jeans feel too tight and his clothes feel too warm and his heart rate feels too fast. His eyes meet Cas' again and he nearly has to shake himself to clear his mind enough to shove some money at the cab driver and follow Cas out of the back seat. They manage to make it to Dean's room and the moment the door is shut behind them Cas' lips are back on his.

Dean brings his hands up to cup the sides of Cas' face where his cheeks are still cold and flushed from the frosty winter night. He savors every moment of the kiss. Cas' lips are soft and full and they move gracefully along Dean's, parting slightly when he slides his tongue experimentally over them. And then he feels Cas' own tongue reach out to meet his, soft wet heat moving together. Cas takes his time, keeps the twists of their tongues together a light caress before he breaks the kiss with a little suck on Dean's bottom lip.

"Jesus, Cas, you nearly killed me on that cab ride."

Cas just grins at him all sex and wickedness and chuckles in that low sexy rumble. He yanks off his scarf and gloves and throws them onto the floor before surprising Dean when he surges forward for another kiss. This one is searching, all tongue and hands and Dean doesn't even realize he has taken a step back until he is stopped by the solidness of the door behind him and trapped by the press of Cas' body along his front. And what a body it is - all muscle and strength and hard lines.

Dean has wanted to touch Cas for days and now that he finally has him right here he wastes no time in running his hands down the skater's sides until they find their way inside of his coat and under Cas' sweater. The skin of his stomach is smooth and hot and Dean's fingers can trace the solid defined lines of every muscle. Cas gasps into his mouth as his cool fingers caress his heated torso and the kiss turns into a grin. Dean mumbles and apology against his lips and takes mercy on him, pulling his hands out from under his shirt to instead work on taking off the man's coat.

Cas separates them just far enough to get his arms out of his coat and let it fall to the floor. He's so close, though, that Dean can't see anything but those deep blue eyes.

His hands start working on the buttons of Dean's jacket and flannel shirt underneath and his mouth trails a line of kisses across his jaw line and down his neck. Dean can only lean his head back on the door and let out a soft whimper, giving Cas better access to his neck and letting himself get lost in the attention. His hand comes up to thread through the soft hair on the back of Cas' head and it feels like running his fingers through silk.

Cas is breathing heavily and whispers into his ear, "What are you?"

Dean's mind isn't coherent enough at the moment to understand the meaning of the question and all he can manage is, "Hmmm?"

Dean feels Cas nudge at his shoulders and he arches his back off of the door to let Cas guide his coat and flannel off, sliding his hands down Dean's arms until their hands meet and they tangle their fingers together. It is such a tender and intimate gesture that it spreads warmth through Dean's entire body.

"What do you like, top or bottom?" Cas asks again, and this time Dean gets exactly what he is being asked.

Dean tenses at the question, not sure how to answer. Cas must sense Dean's hesitation and pulls back, meeting Dean's eyes. Cas is looking at him… no into him as he tilts his head and squints. God, he's intense!

"Dean, is this OK?"

"Yeah, Cas, it's great," Dean answers maybe a little too quickly. But after a beat, he swallows and adds, "It's just… I…"

Understanding paints across Castiel's face, "Dean… have you ever been with a man?"

Dean can't stand the tender, open look on Cas' face and falls back to his usual comedic responses to ease the tension, "Nope. Rookie here. Looks like you're gonna be calling the plays."

Castiel laughs and rests his forehead on Dean's collarbone, chuckling into the man's chest. He looks back up at Dean with an infectious smile and asks, "Is this how it's always going to be with you? Sports metaphors?"

Dean ignores the excited skip that his heart does at the implications of Cas' question. The word always sounds like Cas sees this thing between them as more than just a one nighter but he isn't ready to deal with the future yet and decides to write it off as a figure of speech.

Dean gives Cas one of his best sexy smirks and shrugs, "Pro athlete, man. Been fed a steady diet of ESPN and testosterone since I could walk."

Cas rolls his eyes and deadpans, "In that case, you want to pitch, I'll catch, and we'll see if we can't score a home run?"

Dean throws his head back and lets out a full belly laugh that comes from his core. It feels so good. He can't remember when the last time he's laughed like that with someone. It cuts all of the tension and he wraps his arms around Cas' waist and kisses him again, and it feels perfect, like contentment and comfort and family. And how can this guy Dean's only known a week make him feel like this?

Cas kisses Dean like he owns him. There is no hesitation or awkwardness, only a surge of lips and tongue and suction and fingers threading through his hair and soft moans of pleasure. Dean isn't even sure who they come from he's so far gone. Both men begin breathing heavier, a heady rush taking over and filling the space with want and need as the kisses deepen to something almost desperate.

Dean's hands are shaking as he fumbles with Cas' belt and the button on his pants. And thank God Cas catches on quickly and leans back just far enough to strip his shirt off. The sight of Cas shirtless though, muscles heaving with his deep breaths, is something worthy of pause. Dean's fingers momentarily forget all about the belt and button he had been working on as they trace the outlines of Cas' body slowly.

"Jesus," he breathes as his fingers ghost over Cas' abs, "what artist carved this?"

Castiel is all lean muscle, sculpted six pack between sharp hip bones that disappear under the line of his jeans and Dean makes a promise to himself to taste that line with his tongue tonight. Running his hands over all of that smooth tanned skin is every bit as exhilarating as Dean's fantasies.

Cas doesn't give Dean much time to admire the view, though, before he is tugging on the hem of Dean's t-shirt and pulling it over his head to rub their bodies together, the feeling of flesh on flesh sends sparks down Dean's spine. Cas' hands work at Dean's jeans while Dean continues to memorize every inch of the other man's body with his hands. Cas gives Dean's belt loops a little tug and he takes the hint as they stumble towards the bed wrapped around each other.

A moment later, Dean is lying on the bed with six feet of sexy toned skater under him. Now that Cas has the front of his jeans undone they are loose and low around his hips and he winds his arms around Dean's hips and under his jeans to squeeze his ass, causing their erections to rub together through their clothing.

"Oh shit," Dean groans at the feeling.

Cas plants his heels and lifts his hips, pressing further into Dean while also giving him access to remove his own pants. Dean takes this hint and helps him pull the rest of his clothes off in an awkward shuffle of hands and clothes. As soon as Cas is naked his hands are pushing on Dean's jeans to free him of his own clothing. Dean lifts himself off of Cas and stands up to quickly get rid of his jeans before crawling back over the waiting body of Castiel.

He wants to dive back into that soft waiting mouth but is quickly distracted by the same hip bones he had noticed just minutes ago. He plants his mouth on one and sucks at the sensitive hollow, tracing the line with his tongue. Cas shivers and writhes under him and moans his name, his voice low and husky and pure sex, urging Dean for more. Dean is entranced by the pleasured sounds coming from Cas as he continues to kiss pleasure across his body, whispering praises into soft skin, and digging fingers into taut muscle.

He continues his exploration, touching and teasing and sucking Cas' nipples and scooting lower caressing and supporting his legs as he sucks a line of marks into the man's inner thighs. He looks up at the amazing view from between Cas' legs to take in the sight of Cas with his head thrown back, mouth hanging open as ragged breaths escape his lips. His cock is pink and thick, solid and gleaming with pre-come. His chest is heaving and his hands are restless, one gripping the headboard and the other searching for Dean's hand. Dean grabs it and intertwines their fingers and it feels like a lifeline for Castiel as a grateful, "Yes, Dean" escapes Cas' mouth.

With his free hand he lets Cas' leg go and gives his cock several long, slow pumps, eliciting a delicious hiss from the gorgeous skater. God! He could watch Cas like this all day. He is so beautiful, his body all defined muscle under golden skin. But what really takes Dean's breath away is when Cas looks down at him, those impossibly blue eyes now a thin sapphire ring around dark, lust blown pupils. Those eyes are the first thing he can remember about Cas and it's like they left an imprint on him somewhere deep under his skin and he has been drawn to him, caught in his gravity, ever since.

He has to be closer to them, needs to feel Cas' deep gaze so he surges up, slotting their bodies together, cocks sliding silkily against one another as he strokes the dark stubble of his jaw and whispers Cas' name, letting those eyes tear him apart. Their foreheads are touching as he takes in Cas' beautiful eyes as their breath mingles between them. Cas lets go of his hand and reaches between them, stroking their lengths together and immense pleasure builds from the base of Dean's spine, rolling out to every cell of his body.

Cas' huffs, "Do you… have…"

"Yeah," Dean grunts out and realizes it is going to take every ounce of willpower he possesses to stop and to rummage through his bag for lube and condoms. After one searing hard kiss he pushes himself back and clambers off the bed to retrieve the necessary supplies. The disappointed whimper that comes from Cas doesn't escape him and he smiles at how adorable the sound is. For a second his brain tells him what a gay thought that is before he has to hold back a chuckle at the fact that he's about to be balls deep in another dude's ass. Pretty sure that trumps gooey thoughts on the gay scale. Man, he's fucked up!

Thankfully, he is able to find the lube and condoms shoved in a side pocket quickly and when he turns back around, Cas is propped up on one elbow, slowly stroking himself with his free hand and staring at Dean with a hungry grin on his face.

"Like what you see, Cas?" Dean jokes and waggles his eyebrows, biting his bottom lip.

"Mmmm," Cas nods, "you are exquisite, Dean."

Jesus, sometimes Dean can't believe the things Cas says. It's not like Dean doesn't know he's attractive. He's had to do his share of magazine spreads and found himself topping stupid "sexiest athletes" polls, but the way Cas says it sends a shiver up Dean's spine.

He drops down onto the bed on his side, propped on an elbow so that his body lines up beside Cas. The skater lays back and reaches for the back of Dean's neck to pull him down for a kiss. For a moment, he is lost in the feeling of Cas' tongue brushing his own, exploring his lips and sweeping the roof of his mouth. Cas might be the most amazing kisser he's ever been with. He takes over stroking the skater, tracing the length of his cock, massaging the dip below the head and teasing the slit with his callused thumb. He revels in the way Cas moans into his mouth and thrusts into his hand.

Never losing contact, he caresses down Cas' length continuing on to ghost over his balls and lightly scrape the inside of his thigh with his fingernails before lifting Cas' leg at the knee and draping it over his own thighs. He grabs the lube, squeezes a generous dollop into his hand and seeks out Cas' perineum. He massages the sensitive skin and traces the outline of the puckered skin around his hole. And once he can feel Cas' muscles begin to relax, he breaches the hole with one finger and Cas is so tight and hot around his finger that both men let out a filthy groan.

Dean is still propped on his elbow hovering over Cas, wanting to take in every glorious twitch of muscle, hitch of breath, and especially the sight of his fingers thrusting in and out of Cas. He takes his time, exploring the man's insides, stroking, circling, soothing. Cas is whispering a litany of incoherent phrases that include a lot of Dean's name and he's pretty sure he even hears some Russian in there. It doesn't matter; just the sound of the man's sex-drenched rumble as it's murmured into the skin of Dean's neck has him grinding mindlessly against Cas' hip.

After a second and third finger join the first, twisting and stretching, Dean watches in wonder as he finds that bundle of nerves and Cas sucks in a shocked breath and becomes a quivering mess beside him.

"Dean… I need… oh, God… now, Dean… please!"

Dean plants a soft kiss on Cas' lips, promising, "I got you, Cas," and pulls his fingers out to reach over and unwrap a condom. He quickly re-adjusts and settles himself between Cas' legs, rolling the condom onto his ridiculously hard cock. Holding onto his length he lines up his head with Cas hole and stops. He leans over, face a breath away from Cas' wanting to meet his eyes as he enters him. Cas cups both sides of his face between his hands and bores into Dean's soul with his darkened eyes just as Dean thrusts forward.

The reaction is immediate and electric. Cas feels amazing around him, so hot and tight and Dean rocks gently back and forth deeper with each thrust. Cas' breath matches his rhythm and he sucks in a beautiful gasp with each stroke. And when Dean bottoms out he stops, pauses to simply get lost in the glorious feeling of the other man's heat surrounding him, the comforting tightness of arms and legs wrapped shamelessly around his body, the sensual scent of Cas and sex and sweat, and the warm feeling of home as he drowns in Cas' eyes.

"Oh fuck, Cas!" Dean breathes and he is met with a sexy little smile that takes his breath away.

When the men start moving again they both become lost in each other, in sloppy kisses, in nibbling and sucking, in hands gripping hard enough to bruise. Dean rocks into Cas again and again, long slow strokes that have them both trembling, hard fast thrusts that have the men seeing stars, and one move so perfect he watches in wonder as Cas practically explodes around him. OK, right there then.

He continues to pound against that spot, stimulating Cas' prostate with every stroke.

"Oh God, Dean! Yes! There… don't stop… holy-"

Cas is a mess under him, moaning out beautiful ramblings and head thrown back in ecstasy. Dean eases his hold on Cas' shoulders enough to get his hand between them and stroke the man's cock, matching his own rhythm. And that's all it takes, a few strokes and Cas' heels slam against the bed as he arches his back and comes with a loud groan of Dean's name, painting his stomach and Dean's hand as his muscles clench around Dean's hardness. And the pulsating squeeze of Cas around him is enough to make Dean come spilling over the edge right behind Cas, shattering all around him as stars burst behind his eyes.

Dean collapses half on top of Cas a soft, breathless, boneless pile of sex and sweat and euphoria. His nose is buried in the crook of the skater's neck and he takes his time just breathing in everything that is Cas, his smell, the slightly salty taste of his sweat, the rough feeling of his stubble against Dean's cheek. He lets himself bask for a moment in the essence of the connection that they had just shared.

He is pulled out of his trance by the light touch of fingers tracing the hairline on his temple before threading through his hair, massaging his scalp. God! He nearly purrs it feels so good. Instead, he groans softly as he shifts and pulls out of Cas, rolling back to remove and discard the condom. Cas untangles himself from Dean and grabs the tissues from the side of the bed to clean themselves up with. And just like the magnets that they seem to be, a moment later they both find themselves tangled together under a sea of soft blankets, Cas' head resting on Dean's chest and leg tucked between the hockey player's.

Dean pull's Cas closer towards him so that he can rest his lips on the man's forehead. The position reminds him of way that they had woken up together this morning. Was it really just a few hours ago? Could his life really have changed so much in a day? The soreness in his knuckles and face confirm that it was only yesterday that he had fought Lucifer on the ice but it somehow seems a lifetime ago. Only 24 short hours ago Sam was fine, Dean had a made-up relationship with Bela for the media, and being with Cas was just a fantasy. Now Sam is in the hospital, the evil combination of Bela and Crowley have it out for him, and a naked Cas is draped across him tickling his chest with soft breaths. For better or worse, his life has officially been turned upside down.

"Cas."

"Hmm?" He responds sleepily.

"How did you… you know… come out?"

"Well, I was pretty much shoved out. My first kiss was this older boy in my skating club, Ryan. He was talented and cocky and had won enough skating medals to make him a rock star in my 15-year-old eyes. I kind of followed him around with cartoon hearts in my eyes for weeks and he ate up every bit of the attention. One day, we were alone in the locker room and he just kissed me out of nowhere. But when some of the hockey boys walked in and saw us, he pushed me back into the lockers and called me a faggot and told everyone that I had forced myself on him."

"Shit," Dean breathes and finds himself instinctually holding him a little closer. "So what ever happened to Ryan the douchebag?"

Cas shrugs his free shoulder, "He never made it in competitive skating. Last I heard he was a salesman in California. Oh, and he married his boyfriend the minute DOMA was overturned."

"Asshole," Dean mutters.

"More like young and stupid and scared."

Cas traces random lines on Dean's chest with his fingers taking a deep breath before continuing, "Anna wasn't surprised, of course. She's my sister, said she'd pretty much known for years. But news got to my father. He is… a very traditional Russian. He thought it was just the American influence on me and he was going to take me away from skating and make me move back here to cure me. Balthazar tried to convince him to let me stay, said that moving would interrupt my training and my career. It was finally Anna who convinced him that I would be just as gay in Russia and therefore even more of an embarrassment to our family there."

He pauses for a beat and the air is thick with the sadness of his loss. Dean doesn't dare interrupt; the moment feels precarious, delicate, like it would shrivel like a touch-me-not at the slightest movement.

Castiel swallows and lets out a shaky breath, "He left, moved back here and hasn't spoken to me since. Anna was eighteen so she stayed in the States with me and we both worked our asses off so I could keep training. We got scholarships, prize money, and sponsors to pay for stuff like ice time and skates and travel to competitions. And Balthazar let us stay with him and barely took any money for training. I owe them everything."

Dean tilts Cas' chin up to look at the man, whose eyes are even darker and more sad than usual. No wonder they connected so easily, both left by their fathers to survive practically on their own, both struggled to keep their precarious little families together.

"I guess we're both a couple of orphans, huh?" Dean says and places his lips softly on Cas'.

Castiel surges desperately into the kiss, clinging to Dean like salvation. And Dean suddenly realizes how deep he is in. He hadn't expected Cas to light some kind of fire inside of him, some desire to protect and heal and shelter and keep Cas. He wraps himself around the man, holding tightly, stroking a soothing rhythm into his hair, melding their bodies together until he can't tell where he ends and Cas begins.

They fall asleep like that, pulled together by some gravity that Dean doesn't understand but still held apart by a world that doesn't understand them.