A/N - When viewing the last two flashbacks of Purgatory, I noticed that there is the insinuation that one continues directly into another – from the "Broken record, Cas" moment where Dean tells Castiel that nobody gets left behind to the "O ye of free and little faith" flashback where Dean absorbs Benny and leads Cas to the seam – there is enough of a break between the two that there is the possibility that time passes in the interim. For the purposes of my storytelling, I have chosen to interpret that a night passes between the two flashbacks. Hope this doesn't ruffle anyone's feathers.
Chapter Seven – The Seventh Terrace: The Lustful
There, on all sides, I can see every shade,
move quickly to embrace another shade,
content they did not pause with their brief greeting
as ants, in their dark company, will touch
their muzzles, each to each, perhaps to seek
news of their fortunes and journeyings.
~Canto XXVI, lines 31–36
In the midst of a polluted holocaust of monsters and dirt and blood, Castiel finally learned what it really meant to want. All of the requirements and necessities of human nature paled in comparison, he came to realize, to the effect of the leather-clad arms of a hunter in a darkness unbroken by hope of relief. The pull he experienced as he watched Dean fight his way through the daylight terrain that stood between them and their inevitable descent into passion beckoned him with a force too great to sum up with simple words like "desire." What Castiel battled against felt no less fierce than the swarms of beasts trying to kill them, and he felt certain that no angel had ever experienced such an overwhelming lure into temptation. He raged against it just to keep the instinct temporarily at bay: a soul-deep yearning that started in the unfathomable bottom of his being, woven into the very fiber of what made him up, and radiated through every atom of this vessel made up of nothing but needs and cravings folded in upon and doubling his own. His fundamental longing for this human rattled the very foundation of Castiel's entire existence. If he had previously believed that Dean Winchester obsessed his thoughts, his judgments, his very senses, then it was nothing – nothing– to the day that Castiel learned what it truly felt like to ilust.
The seraph had nearly gotten himself killed no less than three times that day due to sheer inattention. Had he been using his senses, he could have easily intercepted the attacks, but his mind seemed to be drowning in the weight of the hormones coursing through his veins. He nearly pulled his hair out in frustration. Was this how humans felt all the time? So swamped with lust just being in the same vicinity as their lover that they could barely function, barely think of anything else but the need to touch that person, to feel hot breath on their mouths, fingertips on their skin? If so, then Castiel would most definitely have to revise his opinions regarding human reserves of willpower. Every glance at Dean seemed exquisite torture, teasing of the promise to come under the cover of darkness.
Most of his near misses would have been easily avoidable had he troubled himself to focus, but the need to be close to Dean, to rest his cheek against the man's stubbled jaw and feel his hot breath as they moved against each other pulled inexorably at him. Several times throughout the day, Dean paused briefly to gaze into Castiel's eyes, giving him a small grin as if to say that he knew exactly where the seraph's thoughts had skittered off to and was highly amused by their shared secret. Whenever Dean offered Castiel a hand up from the ground or favored him with a light graze of fingers against his wrist to check that the angel was unharmed, Castiel yearned for nothing more than then freedom to sink to the ground, lay his forehead to Dean's, and map out the hunter's body with his searching hands, inhaling gruff words of passion breathed out from Dean's parted lips.
When inky darkness finally swallowed the last scraps of light, Castiel's limbs wobbled under the shock of nervousness. Dean's offer of reciprocation had ignited him the previous evening and the promise of it sustained him throughout the day, but now that the potential offer was so near, the reality of it wasn't so much tantalizing as it was terrifying. Despite his bravado, which may have been as much to convince himself as Dean, his knowledge of and experience with human sexuality was largely comprised of several thousand years of detached observation and a smattering of viewings of cheap pornographic films in Dean's motel rooms. His practical aptitude was practically nil and none of it included another man. And with a man as experienced with sexual acts as Dean, how was Castiel to keep from making a fool of himself? What interest could he possibly incite in someone like Dean?
"Cas?"
The seraph turned to find his friend reclining in the soft undergrowth surrounding a towering tree. Dean stretched one hand out in invitation, his face a mix of impertinence and enticement, but his eyes told Castiel a different story. The longer the seraph looked, the more he saw it: hesitancy, insecurity, uncertainty. As much as the hunter purported to want what was about to come, Dean's eyes gave away his trepidation. Oddly, it was that more than anything else that allowed Castiel to unlock his limbs and lower himself to the ground beside Dean. At least he knew that he wasn't alone in tasting fear along with his desire.
Castiel caught and held Dean's gaze as they both laid their heads on the worn leather jacket. The hunter's lips pulled up in a wry grin when the hand he placed on Castiel's shoulder trembled just a bit. Castiel's eyes wrinkled at the corners – the closest he ever really came to smiling – before his face settled back into lines of worry.
"Dean," he began, but the other man just pushed at one shoulder until Castiel lay on his back, then pulled up on the other, coaxing the stiff angel to turn away from him. "Dean—" he tried again, but stopped when Dean's arm slithered underneath his own and the wide, calloused palm flattened against his chest.
A few shuffling noises behind Castiel and the warmth of Dean's body seeped into his back as the other man pressed close. Forehead nudged into Castiel's locks, Dean let out a rush of humid air along the angel's neck and the back of his ear; goose pimples rose all over Castiel as he fought not to shudder.
"I've been thinking about this all day," Dean admitted in a gruff whisper.
"You have?" Castiel couldn't mask his astonishment.
"Fuck yes," the hunter growled, and this time, Castiel did shudder. "Could barely look at you. Kept remembering the way your hand felt around my cock. I spent most of the day trying not to pop a boner."
Though his cheeks heated with Dean's confession, Castiel groused, "I couldn't tell," which for some reason made Dean laugh. "I wasn't as successful as you were, apparently."
Dean's chuckle warmed Castiel's neck. "Yeah, well, I've had a hell of a lot more practice."
Castiel stiffened; the reminder of the vast difference in their sexual histories just served to unnerve him again. The seraph's resolve crumbled quickly when Dean's arms encircled him. The slow undulation of the hunter's hips lured Castiel into moving in tandem, causing his breath to hitch as Dean drew just the tips of his fingers in meandering paths along Castiel's chest. His muscles jerked and he sucked in a gasp when the fingers slipped under his shirt and stroked low on his belly.
"How," Castiel asked, "how do you know what to do?"
Little stuttering gasps left Castiel when Dean dragged his teeth up the side of the vein at the angel's throat.
"Is that what you're worried about? I don't really." When Castiel scoffed, Dean persisted, "I swear, I don't. Look, this is just as new to me as it is to you. I just … thought of what feels good to me and figured I'd go from there."
Castiel tried to remain receptive to Dean's touch but was tense nonetheless.
"Cas, you don't have to do anything, you know. Just feel, okay? Don't think so much."
With that, Dean's hand resumed its quest, but this time, the touches were less quizzical and more intent, more seductive. The strong fingers skimmed across his belly, Castiel chasing their movement and whimpering when they lifted long before reaching his growing erection. Dean clutched at the top of the angel's thigh, kneaded the lean muscle, the back of his thumb just grazing where Castiel most wanted him to touch. The angel groaned and canted his hips back into Dean's; an answering moan was buried in Castiel's hair and Dean flattened his palm on the angel's abdomen and pushed, urging the curve of Castiel's bottom against his groin. When the length of Dean's erection slotted into the crevice of his rear, Castiel grasped at Dean's hand on his stomach.
"Dean," he ground out, "please…."
Castiel gulped in air as Dean slipped his fingers under the band of Castiel's pants and darted down his skin. Dean's thumb slid under his erection, fingers curling a loose hold around the hot skin.
"Dean, Dean," Castiel prattled, unable to stop his hips from moving forward and back, silently begging the other man to increase his attentions.
Despite the angel's pleas, Dean kept his strokes along Castiel's length maddeningly steady. Impatient, the angel grunted in frustration, and Dean threaded his other arm under Castiel's head to brace it across his chest like a firm hug, pausing his motions to mutter in the angel's ear.
"Easy there."
Castiel tried to push against Dean's hand and again met resistance. "Dean, please. I've never felt this strongly before and I—"
"I know," Dean said soothingly, "I know. But you don't have to chase after it, okay? Just relax and let it come to you. I'll take care of you."
Castiel's blood surged at the hunter's quiet declaration, but it had just as much to do with his heart as his body. Blunt fingers started their slow slide up and down Castiel's length again and the angel leaned back against the hunter's chest, trying to simply let the sensations caress him without straining towards them. The puff of Dean's breath against the side of his throat; the scratch of calluses on Dean's thumb that sent tingles shooting along beneath his skin whenever Dean curled it around the head of his penis; the scrape of cloth against his backside when Dean began to thrust with increasing feverishness into the space between his cheeks; Castiel let it all drag him under, the instincts of his vessel pulling him to an urgency that had Dean babbling in his ear.
"God, Cas, Jesus. I just want to—I can't—but Christ, I want to—"
"What?" Castiel asked, his voice turning to a yelp when Dean clamped his lips beneath Castiel's ear and sucked hard. "What do you want to do? Tell me."
Dean groaned as if in pain when Castiel grabbed at his hip; Castiel thrust harder into his grip.
"Take you," the hunter spat out. He sounded as if it had been forced from him against his will. "God, I want to fuck you."
Castiel didn't even pause to think. "Take me. Have me. As much as you want, take it."
Dean froze against him, the panting breaths against Castiel's ear his only motion for at least a count of ten before responding.
"I can't. I shouldn't. I … I can't."
"Why?" Castiel asked. "Because you're 'not gay'? Isn't it a little late for that old protest, Dean?"
"Because it's too fast," he said. "Because I don't want to fuck this up. Jesus, Cas, I don't even have anything to make this easier—" when Castiel turned to stare back at him with a raised eyebrow, he clarified, "a condom. Lube. Something."
"Excuses. I doubt you could hurt me."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is? Clearly we both desire this. Why hold back then, other than fear? You may as well just take me, Dean, if that's what you want. I've been yours all along. Surely you must see that."
The hunter slowly drew his hands from Castiel's clothes and the angel fought a sigh. It seemed that Dean's fear and insecurity would bury his heart once again, much to Castiel's chagrin. So the angel raised an eyebrow again when Dean lifted his hands in front of the seraph's face.
"Cas, could you …?"
When Castiel failed to comprehend the request, Dean clarified in a hushed voice.
"You're still an angel, Cas. You shouldn't be taken by a man with blood on his hands."
A light wave of Castiel's fingers and Dean's hands were clean. The action drained away much of his remaining Grace, but he considered it well lost. Castiel barely breathed as Dean fumbled behind him, the telltale noise of a zipper proceeding fingers brushing Castiel's back as the hunter pushed his jeans away. The need for air to be taken into his vessel rushed back to Castiel when those warm hands slid over his hips, moving away Castiel's pants and teasing a gasp from the angel's lips when Dean's bare flesh met his own. Fighting to keep inhaling and exhaling – he needed to remind himself to do this – Castiel stared at the fingers that return to his field of vision when Dean pressed them against his mouth.
"Suck," Dean directed him. "As wet as you can make them. Lots of spit."
Castiel took the digits into his mouth instantly, laving them without thought to seduction but rather a mindless need to follow Dean's demand before the man came to his senses and stopped this entirely. His heart hammering within his borrowed ribs, Castiel darted his tongue between each of the three fingers, coating each one with as much saliva as he could; he couldn't guess at the need for it, but Dean had said as wet as he could manage so Castiel did as he was asked. The hunter stifled a few hiccupping moans in the hair behind Castiel's ears; he felt Dean's erection throb against the curve of his rear as Dean drew his fingers from the angel's mouth.
Nudging Castiel's top leg forward until the angel had to prop himself up on a knee and elbow, Dean slowly slid the wet fingers between the rounds of Castiel's rear. Castiel pressed his face into the worn leather jacket propping up his head, stifling a drawn-out gasp in the folds. His limbs felt both watery with nerves and electrified with anticipation, his vessel barely able to send the proper messages to his brain for translation. All he really knew was the word Dean repeated over and over again as the hunter gingerly breached Castiel's body with a single damp digit.
"Easy," Dean muttered into the angel's hair. "All the girls I've done this with say it feels better if you can relax."
Although he disconnectedly noted the slight twinge of a stretching sensation as Dean slid his finger deeper inside, Castiel heard in Dean's voice that the hunter was reassuring himself as much as Castiel. Dean had been correct in his assertion that, for all of his prior experience with sex, he was no more familiar with this than Castiel. So Castiel took it upon himself to bolster Dean as well: when he drew out the finger and then slid it back in again, this time a bit faster, Castiel did not stifle the small moan of pleasure that had built up in his chest. The angel was rewarded with an even faster slide on the next pass, which caused a delicious pulling sensation on the upstroke, so Castiel decided to encourage Dean as much as he could. A rock of his hips back into Dean's palm resulted in an increase in pace; a low moan of Dean's name received a groan at his ear and another finger pressed into his body. By the time Castiel had taken it upon himself to set his own pace, Dean panted into his hair and pushed in a third finger, now markedly unconcerned at whether or not Castiel proved as fragile as Dean originally feared. Castiel nearly forgot that there was supposed to be a greater goal to this whole process, so intent was he on the pleasurable burn of Dean's fingers within him that he growled in displeasure when Dean drew them away.
"Hang on, hang on," Dean said, and Castiel could hear him spitting into his palm, feel him wrapping his fingers around his penis. "Just give me a second..."
The tip of the hunter's erection left a small trail of wetness against Castiel's rear as Dean eased the blunt head of it against him. Dean used the bulk of his body to push Castiel onto his stomach as he rolled atop of the angel, the motion of it enough to slot his erection into the place where his fingers had been.
Curling his shoulders around Castiel to place his mouth near the angel's ear, Dean breathed,
"Spread your legs wider; let me in."
Castiel complied wordlessly. Dean's powerful thighs slid along the outside of his, dropping the hunter down against the cushion of Castiel's rear end, the downward pull of gravity being enough to bury Dean to the hilt inside of the angel. Castiel threw his head back against Dean's shoulder and smiled triumphantly; Dean lowered his face to the crook of Castiel's neck and let loose the sigh of someone who'd come home after an endless journey.
Castiel would have sworn that the two of them became one entity in those next few moments; they moved together, the rhythm of Dean's rolling hips fluid and practiced, guiding the angel beneath him into an unspoken instinctual dance. Dean thrust down into Castiel, the thick muscles of his buttocks and thighs clenching and releasing, his panting breaths parting Castiel's heavy locks. Castiel pushed up against him, meeting Dean thrust for thrust, letting his parched lips release a litany of the hunter's name as if praying to the man making love to him. Dean leaned his weight on one forearm and with the other, snaked his hand up to thread his fingers into Castiel's, clutching the angel's grip as if it were the only thing mooring him in this world. Perhaps it was.
It didn't take long for Dean's thrusts within Castiel to become erratic and desperate. The more the angel cried his name, the more Dean seemed to lose his grapple hold on self-control. A snap of Dean's hips in just the right direction and Castiel moaned loudly, whimpering when Dean closed his teeth over the thread of muscle just where Castiel's shoulder met his neck. And then Dean's hips were crashing against his in a flurry of paroxysms, his whole body spasming as he cried out into the angel's skin. Castiel reached back to clutch at the swell of Dean's rear and hold the man tight to his body as Dean's climax roared through him, filling Castiel with a rush of warm wetness. An involuntary whine left his lips when Dean finally stilled, to be replaced by a hiss through clenched teeth when Dean threaded a hand beneath Castiel's body and wrapped it around his aching erection. A few swift strokes along Castiel's length and stars burst behind his eyelids. Unlike the previous evening, his climax was like a knife jab to the belly, quick and hot and stunning in its intensity.
Castiel's arms and legs trembled with the effort to hold him up as he rode out the quick flash of sensation and the aftershocks it sent careening through his vessel. Strong fingers still slid up and down his penis, slower now, gently bringing him down from the dizzying height of his peak. As Dean drew his hand away, Castiel let his quaking limbs fold beneath him, bringing him down to the covering of leaves with a soft whump. The angel buried his face in his folded forearms and concentrated on just drawing breath for a few moments. He heard Dean roll onto his back to stare up into the canopy of the trees overhead. A few moments later, Castiel managed to shift enough to glance over at Dean; he hadn't bothered to right himself or his clothes at all, just laid on his back with one hand covering his thundering heart as he stared above him.
"You can't see any stars here. I miss the stars," Dean mumbled absently. The hunter's eyes darted sideways just enough to catch Castiel looking at him and then wrenched back upwards. A smile quirked the corners of Dean's lips, still slightly swollen from traversing Castiel's neck.
"So," Dean said, his voice thick with levity, "never pegged you for someone who'd be noisy in the sack. Thought you were going to draw the attention of every monster in a five mile radius."
Castiel levered himself up on his forearms to glare at Dean. Narrowing his eyes to a squint, he said flatly, "I wasn't aware that giving a lover vocal encouragement was frowned upon."
Dean's grin widened. "It isn't. Just didn't figure you for a screamer; thought you'd be all quiet and intense. Well," he turned to direct the smile at Castiel, "I didn't think I'd ever find out personally, but—"
"Dean."
"Yeah?"
"Stop talking. You do not need to fill the silence if you feel awkward about engaging in intimate sexual congress."
The hunter flopped back onto his back, his face sober again. He took a few deep breaths before saying, "I don't really know how to handle this, Cas."
Castiel waved his hand across both his body and Dean's, removing any traces of their activity, before resituating his clothing and rolling to his side to watch as Dean replaced his own.
"I understand that this must be strange for you. Given that angels are neither gender-oriented nor sexually oriented in the way that humans are, I don't have the need for the re-identification that you must feel as a result of our activities. But I want you to understand that if anything we have done this evening causes you regret, you don't—"
"Cas."
"Yes, Dean?"
The hunter darted out an arm, twined it around the seraph's shoulder, and dragged Castiel down against his side.
"Stop talking."
Castiel's lips quirked up at the edges. When Dean moved to settle down for sleep, Castiel rested his head in the pocket of the hunter's shoulder and draped an arm across his chest.
"Yes, Dean."
Castiel monitored the night sounds around them, listening intently to the shuffling noises of creatures moving in the dark as the rise and fall of Dean's chest beneath his hand became slow and rhythmic. After what was at least a half hour of undisturbed quiet, Castiel was surprised to hear the rasp of Dean's voice again.
"Also?"
Castiel glanced up at the hunter's face. "Yes, Dean?"
Dean chuckled without opening his eyes. "You are definitely the only person I know who would refer to his first time taking it up the ass from another dude as 'intimate sexual congress'." He laughed again, the ear Castiel had pressed against his chest vibrating with the rumble of it. "Don't ever change, Cas."
"My son, you've seen the temporary fire
and the eternal fire; you have reached
the place past which my powers cannot see.
I've brought you here through intellect and art;
from now on, let your pleasure be your guide;
you're past the steep and past the narrow paths.
~Canto XXVII, lines 127-132
Benny didn't exactly regret telling his friend to think about knobbing the angel but the change in dynamic wasn't exactly what the vampire had intended. Lord knows it was a much calmer atmosphere since Dean had started giving it to the angel nightly, but Benny now felt like an unwanted houseguest crashing on newlyweds. Every time the three of them had a break in combat long enough for some rest, Benny had a guaranteed thinly-veiled exile unless he wanted an eyeful. The first time it happened had been enough; he didn't need a second helping.
He couldn't really fault either one of them, though. From the angel's side of things, it was fairly clear that old Hot Wings had harbored some tenderness for the gruff hunter for some time now, whether he was aware of it or not. The angel's previous jealousy and sullen disapproval had melted into single-minded dedication to doting upon and protecting Dean from harm once they had taken up a physical relationship. Benny doubted that he could have pried the angel off Dean's side with a crowbar the size of the Titanic. And although the uppity jackass still had a tendency to get under his skin quick and hot, Benny tried to tamp down on it. Mostly because of the change in Dean.
Contrary to what Benny had expected, Dean's conflict seemed to have deepened in the past few days. His resolve to find the portal to Earth had, if anything, grown stronger, but the idea of going home appeared to have stopped giving the man any sense of relief or pleasure. Every time the return to Earth was mentioned, the hunter's lips would pull up in something Benny was certain was meant to be a smile but never raised any higher than the bottom of his cheeks. Dean would blather some pat words about not being able to decide what he would have first – a bath, a burger, or a beer – but his gaze always trailed away towards the angel and lines of stress pulled at his forehead.
Benny had been ganked and in Purgatory long before Dean Winchester ever walked the Earth, but word of the fearless and ferocious pair of hunting brothers threaded among most of the monsters that had ever encountered him. He had known who Dean Winchester was long before he saved the man's hide; he'd heard bits and pieces of stories chewed on by shifters and vamps and all sorts of creatures, some who knew the boys by reputation only and some who had the Winchesters' stern faces as their last living memories. He'd never personally had much of an axe to grind with hunters like the Winchester boys, but Benny was damn sure that Dean's history with the population of Purgatory was half their problem. But Benny hadn't really been able to help feeling just the slightest bit sorry for Dean, even before he'd known him. Unlike most of the creatures he encountered here as well as their hunter counterparts, Dean and his brother hadn't chosen their lot, it had been forced on them. Maybe Benny sympathized more than he ought to, but he understood the way that kind of burden weighed on a person.
It wasn't exactly a surprise then that the hunter had turned out to be a fairly broken human being the first time Benny met him here in Monster Land. What he'd been through on Earth – and Benny guessed that what he knew was only a fraction of the real story – was enough to break most men, so he wasn't particularly startled by it. As long as the hunter came through with his end of the deal, Benny hadn't been fussed one way or the other whether or not Winchester came out of it with any more mental scars. What Benny hadn't expected was that he would end up trusting the man. Caring about him. Damaged goods or not, Dean Winchester was a good man and when Dean gave his word, he held onto it. Benny couldn't ask for more than that.
Benny certainly hadn't expected to find himself in the position of relationship counselor either. The thought still made him chuckle, when he wasn't so frustrated he could scream. Hearing the buzz throughout Purgatory that there was a half-crazed human on the hunt for an angel had been tempting enough for Benny to want a look anyway, but watching the man turn into a vicious, brutal fighter cutting a swath of blood to find his friend … well, that had turned out to be far different than he counted on. When he first saw Hot Wings in the flesh, Benny was almost disappointed. Dean hadn't been the only one with a reputation coming into Purgatory. Plenty of the beasties down here had heard of the angel who had fought his way through Hell and dragged out a human soul. The meat suit Cas wore was more or less unremarkable – medium height, medium build, muscled enough to take a hit but not overly strong – but didn't seem to warrant the talk that made it to Benny's ears. He'd been baffled at the hunter's ruthless commitment to finding him. Sure, he'd heard that the angel was a friend of the human's, a brother-in-arms even, but that wouldn't warrant the effort Dean had expended tearing apart Purgatory to find him. Not until Benny had the chance to watch the two of them together.
Whatever protests Dean made, it had taken Benny less than ten minutes to realize that it wasn't only the angel carrying a torch. It had only taken about ten more minutes to realize that the hunter didn't have the slightest concept of how deep those feelings ran; his or the angel's. The more time they spent needling each other as the group crossed Purgatory, the more frustrated Benny had gotten. There was only so much pussy-footing around that two people could do before you have to make a choice to either get up and dance or walk away from the dance floor. Well, the vampire had been nearly certain that Dean would run like hell, but lo and behold … it seemed that the hunter had learned to dance.
He hadn't lied to Dean when he'd told that man that he'd grown up in a place and time that didn't look too kindly on two men feeling the way they did about each other, but after what Benny had gone through, he more or less promised himself to be the last person to deny someone the comfort of being with a person they loved. And that's what he saw in these two, whether they saw it or not, whether they admitted it or not. So when the two of them found some lame reason to send him farther and farther away on his nightly patrols – as if he couldn't smell the hormones comin' off the two of them for at least a hundred yards – the vampire just sighed and shrugged and tried not to complain too much. He reminded himself how he'd been when he'd first met Andrea and just grumbled to himself somewhere they couldn't hear him and waited for them to call him back again.
It had been a long, lonely week.
Their time in Purgatory was closing, though, Benny could feel it. The more they headed north-west towards where his informants had told him the seam lay, the more his skin hummed and anxiety picked at his nerves. Dean was the key to opening the portal, of course, but Benny had been human once, too; maybe the way out sensed him on that same low frequency that he felt it call out on. A day or two at most and he'd be not-breathing free air again. The thought made him smile despite the lukewarm but determined responses from his travelling companions. So much so that he couldn't really force himself to be too bothered when the hunter and the angel stayed silent for the rest of the day's journey. He even cut the angel a break when Dean prodded him yet again for his pre-emptive forgiveness if the angel got left behind.
"Broken record, Cas," he said, attempting to cut off yet another of Dean's angry retorts that displayed his clear refusal to accept what may very well become reality soon enough.
When he came upon the angel backing the hunter into a broad tree trunk later in the day, eagerly pressing his lips against Dean's, Benny shouldn't have been surprised but he was. Despite the fact that they pawed at each other every night like frantic teenagers, somehow Benny knew that what he witnessed then was the first kiss. Unlike the fevered couplings under the cover of darkness, the angel's motions seemed motivated by more than just desire; his hands shook as they braced on either side of the hunter's face, his lips quivered, and in those fragile gestures, Benny saw both desperate love and crippling sorrow. It was that moment that Benny realized he knew something that his friend did not: the angel never meant to escape Purgatory. He had always meant to stay behind. Benny watched, stunned and just a bit heartsick, as the angel kissed his lover goodbye.
Our sin was with the other sex; but since
we did not keep the bounds of human law,
but served our appetites like beasts…
You now know why we act so, and you know
what our sins were.
~ Canto XXVI, lines 82-84; 88-89
Sometimes, Dean just wanted to punch Cas in his entirely-too-pretty-for-a-million-year-old-virgin face. The fact that after all this time, practically an entire fucking year, that winged son of a bitch still thought he would leave him behind. Maybe it shouldn't make Dean mad that Cas was trying to release him from guilt if things went sour, but damn it, he was mad and he had every right to be. After all the shit they'd been through even before they crashed in Monster Land, Cas still thought he didn't fucking matter enough to Dean to find a way to save him? And after everything that happened in Purgatory, how could he even think for one second—?
Dean growled to himself when he realized that he was blushing. Again. Fuck, Dean Winchester did not blush when he thought about sex. He hadn't blushed about anything since he was about eleven, especially not sex. Hell, he practically waved a flag with a condom on it every time he thought about sex. Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair and tried to will the redness from his cheeks. He wasn't blushing because it was sex, he was blushing because it was sex with just about the last person on the planet he'd ever expected to have sex with. Sure, pretty much everybody and their brother – even Cas's brothers – had joked about it but …. That actually made him wonder if any of the people that poked fun at him and Cas over the years about their 'profound bound' had actually, well, meant it. Had anybody suspected that the two of them might eventually find themselves in this position? Had somebody seen something they hadn't?
Dean tried to feel embarrassed or even guilty about it, but if he was really honest with himself, he couldn't manage to do it. After everything they'd been through together, been for each other and to each other, it seemed like this just ended up being another piece of their story that clicked into place. He wouldn't start spouting some romantic crap about destiny or some shit like that but he would say – if it was just to himself in his own head – that maybe it had been burned into his skin the first time Cas had laid a hand on him in Hell. Maybe his connection to Cas had been branded onto him down to the soul; maybe this was just the way to deal with all the shit that neither one of them could manage to put words to.
It's not as if Dean had ever exactly been aces at "talking it out", anyway. Sammy had always been the closest person in the world to Dean, the only person he'd ever really trusted with his feelings until Cas came along, and even Sam had to pry his emotions out of him with a crowbar. In true Winchester fashion, the only way Dean really knew how to deal with his shit was to bury it in a fucking lockbox because the crap he dealt with on a daily basis would tear you apart top to bottom if you didn't. Purgatory was no different.
Actually, if Dean was really going to be honest with himself, Purgatory was easier. It didn't matter that he'd spent his entire life drowning in booze and sex; it didn't matter if he was "worthy" enough for Heaven or fucked up enough to deserve Hell. Whatever fuck-ups he made in the past didn't touch him here, and on the flipside, neither did any of those shining moments of selflessness that he managed to stumble into now and then. The only thing that mattered here was keeping sharp, staying alive. Maybe that's why Dean had only been able to open that door to Cas here: he was living his life on a knife edge, so whatever didn't make him dead only made him more alive. And there was something about the simplicity of your only choices being dead or alive that allowed you to live however the hell you wanted. So what if he was fucked up enough to feel more at home in Purgatory than he did on Earth half the time? The way he'd felt the last few nights when he'd had Cas against him made him feel more human, more alive, than he had in a long time, and he didn't have to give a damn what anyone else but Cas thought about it. If it weren't for the gut-deep sadness from being without Sammy, Dean might have even said that he felt like the version of himself that felt the most … pure. And so much of that had come from just giving up in the face of everything that had built up between him and Cas. But how do you even start to put shit like that into words?
And from Dean's point of view, sometimes trying to put words to things that couldn't be explained just fucked everything up. Trying to treat sex with Cas as casually as he did with most of the women he'd ever slept with had only made him feel awkward and shallow, and Cas trying to talk about anything in any kind of normal fashion never ended well. They seemed to have come to an understanding: Dean could only say what he felt in the dark against Cas's skin; the things Cas said with his body were far smoother than anything he could say with his mouth. So they didn't talk about it, they just acted on it.
Well, Dean acted on it, anyhow. Cas would follow any direction Dean made, agree to any request he asked for instantly and enthusiastically but he never made any demands of his own. The angel always reacted to Dean with an eagerness that, frankly, was really bad for Dean's ego but the hunter couldn't help but be surprised that he never took any initiative. Cas had never pulled punches with Dean, hadn't spared Dean his honest and harsh opinion when they were at odds, so the fact that Cas seemed to be meekly following wherever Dean led had him a bit worried. The more he thought about it, the more Dean felt uneasy about it. Cas's obviously trumped-up stories about his sex life with Daphne left Dean more than a little anxious that the angel had agreed to sex simply because he was too inexperienced to know when to say no. As much as Dean dreaded having to jump feet first into what was sure to be the most awkward conversation of his life, he knew he had to sideline the angel for a talk.
Dean chafed his hand against the back of his neck before grabbing at the angel's sleeve and tugging him back behind a large tree.
"Hey, uh, Cas, I wanted to ask you about something," Dean started, wincing at how his voice hitched a bit. "When we … when you and I have … look, I just want to make sure that you didn't go along with it just because … I mean, you know that you don't have to—aw, hell."
Castiel stared at Dean for a long moment before responding, "I don't understand what you're trying to say."
"Yeah, neither do I," Dean grumbled. "Jesus, I hate that I have to sound like a fucking after school special."
After swearing roundly another few times, Dean finally regrouped.
"You know that you don't have to do anything you don't want to, right? I mean, I know you want to with your body, but … you don't have to please me because you feel you've got something to prove after ditching me. I know that you don't really have a ton of experience with keeping a clear head when you're all riled up, but you can say no. You know that, right? You don't have to want to do things just because you think I do."
Dean waited what seemed like forever as Cas's ice blue eyes scoured his. Just when Dean believed that Cas would keep silent like he did sometimes when he was just digesting a thought, the angel did the last thing Dean expected: Cas strode forward until Dean's back bumped the tree trunk, clasped Dean's face between his shaking fingers, and clamped his lips over Dean's
For the first few seconds, Dean couldn't seem to anything but stand stock still in surprise. In hindsight, it seemed stupid to be shocked by a kiss from the person you'd been fucking for almost a week, but Dean felt even more stupid for never realizing that they hadn't kissed. Jesus, almost a week of the most intense sex he'd ever had and he hadn't even kissed the man. Even more than stupid, Dean felt ashamed. He'd kissed girls in bars that he'd known less than an hour on the promise of nothing more exciting than a quick hand job and he hadn't even kissed the only person that had ever shaken him down to his bones. Well, he was damn well going to make up for that right-fucking-now.
Dean wound his hands up under Cas's arms and wrapped his fingers around the base of the angel's neck, reeling him in closer as he began to kiss back. Everything Dean couldn't say with words, he said with his body. He turned his head to one side, smiling a bit as the tip of his nose bumped against Cas's. Letting his mouth fall open a bit, he caught the angel's bottom lip between his, sucked it in a bit and got rewarded with a rumble of voice from deep within the angel's chest. Castiel opened to gasp for air, a little whimper escaping him, and Dean chased it with his tongue, threading it into the angel's mouth and stroking along the slippery muscle that responded immediately. Spurred on by the passion spiking between them, Dean let Cas pin him to the tree with his slender hips, a little embarrassed how hard he'd gotten just from a freaking kiss. When Cas rolled his hips against Dean's, grinding a rather impressive erection against the hunter's, Dean flashed from embarrassment to arousal lightning quick.
But he had to keep his head. They couldn't let this run away with them. Not here. Not now. So Dean forcibly gentled the kiss – with no little amount of protesting from Cas – and quirked up a lopsided grin
"Easy there, trigger," he said. Since he was still a bit shaky in his hold on his libido, Dean eased Cas an arm's length away from him. "Plenty of time for that later. Since you don't seem to have any objections."
Cas's eyes searched him again. "No, Dean. I don't have any objections. I quite emphatically approve."
"Come on, Cas-anova," Dean chuckled a bit at his own pun, "we have to get at least a few more hours of hiking in before we stop for the night."
Laying down for the evening proved far more awkward than Dean had expected. Cas seemed to think that they would just fall into sex immediately upon resting – not entirely unexpected given the way the afternoon had gone – but Dean couldn't get over his earlier worry. When automatically curled up with his back against Dean, the hunter couldn't stop himself from grabbing Cas's shoulder and pushing him around until Dean could look him in the eye again.
"About what I said earlier—" Dean began.
"I told you that I don't having any objections," Cas said, impatient. "I would have thought that was obvious given my vocal encouragement during our sexual encounters—"
"God, I wish you wouldn't say it like that," Dean mumbled, "it makes me feel like a sex offender."
"—but if it's not, I can be more overt in my praise."
"No, Cas, you're about as overt as a fucking Pride Parade. Overt is not the problem."
The angel squinted at him, turning his head to the side to study Dean which, considering the fact that they were laying down, looked just ridiculous enough to tease a grin from Dean's lips.
"Then what are you still concerned about?" Cas asked.
Dean frowned a bit and then reached out to lay a hand to Cas's face. He hesitated, second-guessed himself a bit, but forced himself through the gawkiness and placed his open palm against Cas's cheek. When the angel's eyes crinkled at the edges, warmed by the gesture, Dean stroked the top of Cas's cheek with his thumb.
"You don't always have to—" Dean started again but decided to try a different tack. "Things are different now, Cas. Things are going to be different between us even when we get home. You can see that, right? How things are going to change?"
Maybe it made him a coward, but Dean couldn't bring himself to ask Cas straight out whether he wanted this to continue once they got back to Earth. Whether Cas wanted to be with him once they were removed from the cloaking effects of Purgatory. Cas was quiet so long it nearly made Dean sick with worry, especially since the angel wouldn't meet his eyes.
"What has happened between us has changed everything," Cas answered evasively.
"And … is that a good thing?" Dean said, damning the break in his voice. "You won't regret it once we get back?"
Finally, Cas's eyes lifted to Dean's. "I will never regret what has passed between us, Dean. I will carry it with me always."
Trying to keep a relieved smile from splitting his face, Dean nodded. "And you understand that when you're … with someone like you and I have been, you don't always have to … I mean, you in particular won't always have to be the one… you know…"
Dean gestured vaguely between them as Cas squinted in confusion. After a moment, Cas caught on.
"Taking it up the ass," he said with a sage nod.
"Jesus, Cas. I really need to teach you some tact with this shit."
The angel scowled. "I was just saying it the way you said it the other day."
"I know, but—" Dean sighed. "No euphemisms until you've proved you can use them without making me feel violated."
Cas gave him a flat stare. "Interesting choice of words considering the action you were discussing perpetrating upon my person."
Dean let his hand slide from Cas's cheek so that he could clap the palm over his own face. "Seriously, you make me feel like I should be on a Wanted poster."
"I do want you, if that's what you mean."
Dean peaked out at Cas with one eye. The statement had been so innocently honest that he couldn't help but smile.
"Yeah, right back at ya," he said with a tiny smile. "But what I meant was that we don't always have to have sex like that. Maybe … maybe tonight, I want to see your face." He gulped before he said the words. "Kiss you when I'm touching you. It doesn't always have to be the other way."
Cas moved towards him little by little, inching up on an elbow and leaning in slowly as if he thought Dean might shy away. Their lips slid together in a silky slide and Dean let his muscles go loose, falling to his back as Cas slid over him. The angel's weight was warm and strangely comfortable on his chest, new and pleasantly unfamiliar when they caught and chafed and stroked against each other in ways so different to a woman's body. Looping one hand underneath Cas's bracketing arms to clutch at his shoulder, Dean slid the other down to clutch at the angel's rear, guiding him into a slow roll that rubbed the angel's hardened length against his just enough to start his blood warming but he still wanted so much more. Cas had proved himself a quick learner over the last few days, his body moving against Dean's much more naturally as they rocked and dipped together.
The angel proved curious in his exploration of Dean's mouth, his tongue sliding against his teeth, the roof of his mouth, the inside of his cheeks; everywhere that he could reach with the probing tip of his tongue, Castiel devoured the sensation with a low hum of pleasure that set Dean's nerves humming. Soon, the hunter's hand was clamped against Castiel's backside tightly, pushing against him to try to relieve some of the aching tension in their bodies. Electrified, Dean wrenched the two of them up into a sitting position, pulling the angel up to straddle his lap. A small smile picked at Dean's lips as he used his new leverage to grapple with the folds of the trench coat, forcing it from Cas's shoulders with a grunt and rushing to ensure that his shirt followed suit.
Cas seemed to be surprised to find himself bare-chested when Dean finally pushed the battered scrubs from the angel's arms, saying "Dean" with a total of such astonishment that the hunter felt almost predatory.
"I want to see you tonight; all of you," Dean rumbled low in his throat. "I want you to see me, too."
The force of Cas's gaze in his eyes felt like it grabbed Dean at the base of his spine and shook; he let himself shudder. Only the space of that gaze passed before Cas attacked the jacket at Dean's shoulders, pushing it away and quickly divesting the hunter of his other layers. Cas grabbed at Dean's shoulders so hard that his knuckles whitened, pressing their naked chests together as he rocked in Dean's lap; he took Dean's bottom lip between his teeth, sucking and biting in tandem with the rock of his hips as he ground down against Dean's hard length. The hunter groaned and redoubled his enthusiastic plundering of Cas's mouth. Dean groaned when Cas shifted off his lap but hurriedly complied when the angel tugged at his zipper, unwilling to leave his kiss long enough to focus on the task, but shucking his own pants in an ungainly hop when Dean's hands took care of his own jeans.
Cas had dropped to his knees so quickly and unexpectedly that Dean actually cried out in shock when the angel's mouth engulfed his erection. He had to fling his hands out behind himself to brace his body to keep from wobbling over, a moan tearing itself out of his mouth as he watch his slowly disappearing and reappearing from between the angel's lips.
"Jesus, Cas! Warn a guy," he hiccupped, and then cried, "fuck!" when the angel let it drop from his lips, shiny with spit.
"This seemed a more prudent source of lubrication, given our change of position," the angel explained, his face startlingly calm despite his heaving chest and flushed cheeks.
Dean couldn't help but smile. " 'A more prudent source of lubrication'. Man, you know I love it when you talk nerdy to me."
Cas squinted for a moment, certain that an insult was buried in the comment somewhere, but Dean didn't allow him time to figure it out. He dragged the angel back into his lap and slid his fingers down the angel's hips towards his rear. Cas shook his head emphatically.
"Dean, how often must I tell you, the preparation is unnecessary."
"I don't want to hurt you—"
"However weak I feel here, Dean, I am still an angel; I still have my strength and you will not hurt me. I want to feel you now."
When Cas moved to position himself this time, Dean didn't fight but simply let his head tip back as he absorbed the sensation of the tight, hot slide of Cas's body as he settled onto Dean's erection. Leaning back on his hands again, he let Cas drive their coupling, the angel slowly sliding along Dean's length, kneading at the hunter's shoulders and he moved up and down. As Cas's pace increased, Dean curled his arms around him, clutching at one shoulder and one flexing cheek and letting his mouth trail along the ridge of the angel's collarbone. Cas's muscles strained as he quickened his pace, panting just above Dean's face pressed to his chest. The angel began to angle his hips as he rocked, chafing his own erect penis against Dean's stomach and whimpering with every pleasurable tug of sensation. When Dean wrapped one hand around Cas's length and started a swift, tight stroke, the angel's pace faltered and his nails dug into the thick muscle at Dean's shoulders. Dean brought his free hand up to drag his thumb across the angel's bottom lip; the angel groaned and bit down on it.
Cas's panting breaths became rough against Dean's temple, so he dragged both hands down to clutch at the angel's rear, clasping him tightly and holding him still as Dean levered himself up into the angel at a punishing pace. Cas had to prop himself up on his knees to keep from bucking under the force of Dean's thrusts, and when the angel's peak burst through him, Dean simply angled his hips and thrust until he found that spot that made his lover shout and scrabble his fingers along Dean's back.
When Cas eventually came down from the high of his climax, he realized that Dean still rocked up within him rhythmically, still hard and searching for his own climax. Dean had let his eyes drop closed as he leaned his forehead against Cas's chest, straining too hard to find a peak that danced out of his reach.
"Dean," Cas said, low and intense, drawing Dean's gaze to his.
The eyes that fixed upon Dean's in that moment didn't seem tempered by the years of sorrow and hardship and mistakes that Cas had endured since they'd met; his eyes were the fierce, clear and icy blue of the angel that had strode towards him surrounded by gun blasts and lightning flashes and declared that God had work for him. Had they been the declarative type, that would have been the moment that one of them, or perhaps even both, would have declared love. Instead, Cas just said what he always said.
"Dean."
And it was enough to have the hunter tumbling over his peak into the void, cushioned by Cas's warm body, steady breaths, and gentle hands at his shoulders. For just a moment, his sins were forgiven and Dean felt pure.
A/N - In case you're wondering and/or had trouble picturing the position that Cas and Dean were in during the first sex scene, I had a gif that I used as reference for the positioning. I attempted to find a way to post it here and I can't remember where I got it from, so anyone who can help out with that would be my hero.