It was languorous and indulgent, but determined and exploratory. Dean was taking his time mapping out his lover's mouth, while Cas happily let him, and tried his best to return the favour. The angel was a blissfully fast learner, and he'd already had a few lessons on the subject. It wasn't long before he was pushing Dean back against the couch, kissing him and nuzzling at his neck. He draped his body over the Hunter, and let his weight rest fully on him, pressing their hips together snugly. Dean purred with appreciation, snaking his hands under Castiel's trenchcoat and wrapping his arms around the angel's waist.
He rested his hands flat against the warm, lean muscles of Castiel's lower back. Cas shivered, and buried his face in Dean's shoulder like a contented cat. That would've been fine, but the angel was heavier than he looked, and Dean was feeling a little bit squashed. He turned them onto their sides, so his back leant against the back of the couch. It took the weight off of his chest so he could breathe again. He suddenly remembered a time when Sam had been little more than a toddler, and John had been away on a hunt. They were starting to run low on cash for food, and Dean wasn't sure what to do about it.
He'd had to start rationing their supplies to make them last longer, and Sam was too hungry to fall asleep, even though Dean had given him his share too. After a couple of hours, Dean had crawled into the bed with him, cuddling with his little brother, and telling him at least a dozen stories to get him to fall asleep. John hadn't come back until a week later, but he'd sent Bobby to look after the boys when he'd realised he wouldn't make it back any time soon. The man who was like a second father to them had shown up literally an hour after Dean had spent their last dollar on food for Sammy, and the first thing he'd done was to buy Dean a hearty breakfast.
After that, Dean had often changed their motel booking to a smaller room with a single bed, to conserve cash, and shared the bed with his baby brother. It had been four or five years before they'd both gotten too big, and Sam had stopped being quite so comfortable with the arrangement. Dean hadn't realised how much he'd missed it until he'd found himself with an armful of warm, pliant muscles again. It was surprisingly soothing. Cas was nipping at his neck now, and licking at him like a playful kitten, but it was more teasing than arousing, just enough to make him feel warm and fuzzy, and Dean's eyelids started to droop.
A nap sounded pretty good to him right about then. Cas sighed with contentment, and rested his head under Dean's chin. Dean hadn't meant to sleep for very long, but it was already completely dark outside by the time he stirred again. He felt more rested and relaxed than he had in months. It was exactly what he'd needed, what he'd taken this holiday for. The pair of them made it downstairs in time for a light supper, and Dean introduced Cas to the delights of cherry pie and whipped cream. The look of delighted surprise lighting up his blue eyes made Dean laugh.
There was a young couple in the café, backpackers by the look of them, but they were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't even notice Dean feeding Cas forkfuls of pie. The angel ended up enjoying his dessert so much that Dean fed him his slice too. When that was gone, he ordered another slice. Dean was laughing uncontrollably, and trying to warn Cas not to eat too much. "I want to take this slice upstairs with us Dean. I'm not sure why, but I suddenly want you to eat it off of me." Dean choked on his soda, spraying some of the sticky black liquid onto the table.
His face was bright red, and his little outburst had attracted the attentions of the backpackers, who were staring at them with concern. Dean pointedly ignored them, and just hoped that they would turn away soon. Cas was blushing too, and squirming in his seat. "I'm sorry Dean, I don't know why I had that thought. Carrying our Nephil is making me more human in some ways. I've been having many new human thoughts, and much stronger emotions lately. I've… I've missed your body a lot since that incident with Famine." It took Dean a full minute to realise that Cas had just referred to their baby as a 'Nephil'.
He made a mental note of it, and shoved that note to the back of his mind. Right now they had a slice of cherry pie to eat, and Dean was hungry. They snuck the pie upstairs, along with a small jug of cream. Cas pulled the sticky pie from his pocket, and the little jug of cream he'd been careful not to spill, and placed them both on the bedside table while Dean closed and locked the door behind them. It only took a split second of thought to make his trenchcoat clean again with a tiny spark of his Grace. Dean stalked over to him, pulling his plaid button-up and his under-shirt up over his head as he went.
He helped Cas take off his trenchcoat, kissing him clumsily as he did so. When the garment came free, Dean sent a wicked smirk at his angel, and put the trenchcoat on himself. Castiel moaned at the sight, and pulled Dean to him, kissing him possessively before throwing him onto the bed with just a bit too much force. Dean bounced off the mattress and almost fell off the bed, ridiculously turned on by the display of strength. Cas looked down at his fully clothed body, gave an impatient growl, and then they were just gone, and he was naked. Dean didn't bother wondering where Cas had sent them. They would be back when the angel needed them again.
Cas crawled onto the bed, pushing Dean down into the mattress, pinning his arms and legs with his own, and making the Hunter's jeans, underwear, shoes and socks, all disappear the same way he'd done his, leaving him in nothing but the trenchcoat which was barely clinging to his shoulders. Suddenly Dean felt uncomfortable. This was moving a little fast, and Cas was being a bit too forceful. It was making him nervous. He'd never been in this kind of situation before. He'd never been with a partner he couldn't easily overpower, but if Castiel refused to stop, then there would be nothing Dean would be able to do about it.
Last time, when Cas had taken control of their encounter, it had been a turn-on, but Dean hadn't felt trapped then. He'd still felt like he had some control over the situation. Normally he wouldn't be worried about Castiel refusing to stop, but right now the angel seemed to be caught up in a lustful frenzy, and only half aware of his actions. Would Cas even hear Dean asking him to slow down? Castiel felt the muscles beneath his lips tense up. Not in the good, fluttering way, but in a nervous, frightened manner. He stopped, and looked up at Dean. It was like having a bucket of ice-cold water thrown over his head.
What he saw in the Hunter's eyes made him recoil, shuddering with self-loathing. "Dean, I…" His voice was just a dry rasp. Before the angel could do something stupid like, disappear, Dean surged forward and pulled Cas into a firm hug. "Stop, don't say anything. It's okay. This was bound to happen at some point, Cas, let's face it. You're new to sex, and you're a much stronger species than me. Now that this has happened, we can talk about it, and we can set some ground rules so this won't happen again. Every couple has a conversation like this eventually; it's completely normal, so don't go beating yourself up about it. I know you didn't mean to scare me, and you didn't hurt me, so everything is fine."
He felt the angel nod against his shoulder, and tentatively wrap his arms around his waist in a loose, gentle hug. Dean couldn't help but smile. How could he ever have been worried? Cas would rather die than hurt him. He pulled back a little to look Cas in the eyes, and the angel immediately let his arms drop to his thighs. "Okay, first of all, it's okay to be firm with me, and to take control sometimes. I really don't mind, and you're not gonna hurt me that easily. There are just some things that make me uncomfortable, and as long as you remember not to do those things, then we won't have any problems."
Cas nodded in acknowledgement, and gently wrapped his arms around Dean again. Dean rewarded him with a happy smirk, and pecked him on the lips. "Okay, first rule. I don't like being completely pinned. If you really want to then it's okay, but don't pin all four limbs at once, only two at a time. The second rule is, you can't use so much strength that I wouldn't be able to break your hold if I really wanted to. I'm a strong guy, but I'm not an angel. It might take you a little while to figure out how much strength is okay, and how much is too much, and that's fine too, just as long as you pay attention."
Castiel nodded again, completely focused on every word Dean said. He would never forget a single one of these rules for as long as he existed, Dean was absolutely certain of it. "Okay. Then, until I think of something else to add, that just leaves rule number three. I would very much appreciate it if you didn't use your mojo to zap our clothes off. Unless we're both in a big hurry, and I specifically ask you to do it, then I'd really prefer to watch you take your clothes off the old-fashioned way. Otherwise it feels rushed, and I usually like to take things slow when I'm with someone special."
Castiel's eyes shimmered with happiness. That was the first time that Dean had outright told him that he was special to the Hunter. He blinked, and suddenly their clothes were back. Not all of them, only the ones which he'd removed with his Grace. Then he leant back, slowly pulling off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, giving Dean a bit of a show. Dean sat back, leaning on his elbows and watching with appreciation. When Cas reached for his tie, Dean came forward and stilled his hand. "Leave the tie on, I like it." Cas didn't even think to question him, he just innocently followed Dean's lead.
When the Hunter stopped him reaching for his belt buckle, Cas growled in frustration, and the sound made Dean chuckle. "It's my turn, Cas. I want to feel your hands take my jeans off. You'll have to start with my shoes." After struggling with the laces for a full minute, cursing and tugging at the offending things, Dean couldn't contain his laughter any longer. Cas glared darkly at him. "I'll teach you how to take those off some time, but until then it's okay to zap shoes." Cas sighed in relief, removing the shoes with a glimmer of Grace. With those out of the way, he crawled up Dean's legs, and started in on his belt, using his teeth to help even though he didn't really need to. For some reason he just wanted to.
It was worth having the sharp taste of leather on his tongue when he heard Dean's appreciative growl. He soon had Dean's pants off, tossing them to the floor beside the bed, leaving just the boxers. There was a rather noticeable tent, with a small wet patch which was starting to spread. Cas gave the patch a curious sniff, then a tentative lick. The taste was strong and musky, but not bad. Dean groaned loudly, and quickly pulled his own boxers down. Dean crooked a finger at Cas, beckoning him closer. Cas smirked at him, an expression which Dean felt didn't suit him. It reminded him too much of future-Cas. "Dean, do you want me to show you something I learnt from the Pizza-man?"
Dean grimaced, and stopped Cas with a hand on his shoulder. "I've got a new rule for you, Cas. I think we're on number four now. No more watching porn for you. I don't want you learning this stuff from anybody but me. Is that okay with you?" Castiel's expression softened, and suddenly the angel Dean knew and loved was back. "Yes Dean, that's fine with me. I'm sorry." Dean smiled warmly at his lover, and placed a hand behind his neck, burying it in Castiel's short black hair, and pulling the angel closer for a kiss. Castiel's shoulders tensed and rippled, and he moaned into the kiss. Dean raised an inquiring eyebrow at him, and Cas blushed, looking away. "My wings are getting itchy. They want to come out."
Dean smirked, and kissed Cas again before murmuring, "Let them out, then. I want to see them." With a loud groan, an explosion of feathers burst from Castiel's shoulders, bright sunset-coloured feathers raining down around them. Dean heard a lamp go flying, and glass breaking, as the huge limbs stretched out to their full capacity. They were glorious, with heavy tinges of a passionate red. Dean reached for Castiel's left wing, but the angel pulled it back, anxious. "My wings are very fragile, Dean. The bones are hollow, and they're made directly from my Grace. If you break them by accident, I can't heal them the way I heal my vessel. I would have to wait for them to heal on their own, which could take several days."
Dean caressed his lover's cheek in a soothing gesture. "It's okay, Cas. I'll be really gentle. I would never hurt you." Cas cautiously brought his wings forward, draping them over the both of them. Dean carefully stroked the leading edge of the right wing, and Castiel shivered. "Your wings are sensitive?" Cas nodded, confirming Dean's theory. "They have to be very sensitive, to feel changes in air currents and subtle shifts in temperature which could indicate changes in pressure. It's difficult to fly efficiently without being attuned to the weather." Dean nodded, only half paying attention to what Cas was saying. Later, all he would remember about the explanation was that Cas could forecast the weather with his wings.
He stroked the bright, metallic-tinged feathers, and startled when they darkened in colour. It almost felt like touching a moth's dusty wings, and sure enough, when he brought his hand closer to his face for inspection, they were covered in colourful metallic dust. The feathers he'd been handling were now a matte black. They looked fluffy and beautiful, and he quickly set about brushing the strange dust from more of Castiel's feathers. His ministrations were eliciting loud moans and shudders from the angel kneeling above him. Shaking hands undid Castiel's belt buckle, and pulled his slacks and briefs down, and trembling legs clumsily kicked the garments off onto the floor.
Dean smirked at Cas, and took pity on the angel. Well, sort of. He turned them, carefully laying Cas down on the plush mattress, and held himself up on his hands and knees. "Cas, what's with the dust on your wings?" He snorted when he heard Cas whine in protest. He'd never heard Cas whine before. Dean didn't relent though, he was too curious. Cas huffed, and answered his question. "It's angel-dust. Whenever my wings come out, they do so with a coating of Grace, in the form of dust. The colours of it reflect my emotions at the point of release." Dean nodded. He'd already figured that much out.
Cas continued explaining, slowly regaining control of his ragged breathing. "They serve the purpose of making anything which isn't human or angelic completely blind. The effect only lasts for a few hours, but that's usually plenty of time to eradicate the threat. It's a defence mechanism. Pure Grace works on humans too, like Pamela, and is more permanent. That's why I tried to tell her not to force me to reveal my true form to her; I didn't want to hurt her. Angel-dust will only work on monsters and demons, and it has to be fresh. It disintegrates down to the atomic level after about six hours. It has magical properties, but I doubt a witch would know what to do with it, it's almost impossible for humans to obtain."
Dean softly stroked the feathers on the bed, eliciting more shivers from Cas. "So it isn't actually your feathers changing colour, it's just the dust? Your feathers have always been this matte black colour?" Cas nodded. "If I puff out my feathers and shake all of the dust off, you'll see that they're slightly blue where the light hits them. They're the wings I was made with, so maybe God had a reason for giving them to me, but I'm the only angel with blue-black wings." Dean frowned down at the angel's sad tone, but Cas smiled at his obvious concern, and gave him a brief, reassuring kiss.
When Dean's face relaxed, Cas continued his explanation. "Their true colours have nothing to do with my emotions, but perhaps, as you suggested before, they could be linked to my personality. I've been told that I'm the first angel to have such a strong affinity for humans. All of my brothers have wings in shades of white, cream, or grey. Samandriel was the only other angel with blue in his wings, his were a very soft, powder blue. Others tend more towards gold, or sometimes brown. Gabriel's three pairs resemble a Golden Eagle's wings. Lucifer has glossy black wings which shine a dark, bloody shade of red under strong light. I was often mocked about the resemblance."
Dean frowned in thought, "Did you say three pairs? Why does Gabriel have six wings?" Cas looked at him oddly, as though the human was asking why two plus two equalled four. "Every archangel has six wings. It's one of their most distinguishing features. If I were ever promoted, I would get two extra pairs the same colour as my current wings. I hear that it can take several years to learn how to fly with the additional wings, but Gabriel was made with them, so he's never known what it's like to fly with only one pair." Dean nodded, sitting back on his heels.
He grinned mischievously down at Cas, and leaned over to the little bedside table. "Since you answered my questions so nicely, I think it's time for your reward. I believe someone mentioned a newly discovered pie fetish?" Cas moaned, letting his head sink further down into the feathery pillow. Dean moved Castiel's tie off of his chest, and started breaking up the slice of sticky cherry pie, placing small chunks of it all over the angel's chest. Sometimes Cas would take a ragged breath, and a piece would fall off, but Dean just carefully picked it up and put it back each time this happened.
He wasn't worried about making a mess; Cas could easily clean it up later with his Grace. It was a large slice of pie; he managed to break it into at least a dozen pieces. Once there was no pie left, Dean got the little jug filled with cream, but just as the pie had cooled down while they'd been getting ready, the cream had warmed up. "Cas, can you make the cream cold again?" Cas blinked, and instantly condensation started forming on the surface of the ceramic jug. At the same time, steam started rising from the pieces of pie he was covered in. Cas moaned at the feeling, it was like being under an electric blanket. His face turned red from the heat, it was a bit uncomfortable.
Dean frowned in worry, but Cas just shook his head. "I'm fine, pour the cream. It will help cool me down." Dean nodded, and did as instructed. Each time the cold liquid hit his feverish skin, the angel gasped and hissed at the sensation, clenching his teeth, and tensing his muscles. The sounds escaping from him were making it difficult for Dean to hold himself back, but he waited until almost all of the cream had been poured. He set the jug back down on the table, then leant over Cas, and ate a small chunk of sweet, cream-covered cherry pie right off of the angel's collarbone. Cas yelped at the feeling of Dean's hot lips, his wet tongue, and his sharp, nipping teeth teasing his sensitive flesh.
The Hunter was lathing the spot completely clean with his tongue, and worrying the skin until there was a dark bruise there. While his mouth worked on Castiel's skin, Dean rested all of the weight of his upper body on his left arm, and made fill use of his right hand to keep stroking and massaging the feathers of Castiel's left wing. Dean worked his way along the limb until he was carding his fingers through the soft black down near the shoulders, and tugged gently. The tugging in particular elicited a strong reaction, Castiel's back arched up off the bed, his feathers puffing up noisily and shedding colourful dust all over the room.
Dean was too distracted to really notice it when the feathers his hand was buried in started getting oily. He just assumed that it had something to do with sweat, or that it was similar to what happened with human hair when it was handled too much. He switched positions so that he was resting on his right arm, and using his left hand to stroke Castiel's other wing. After a few minutes, those feathers also started feeling damp and slick, but Dean found that he actually liked the sensation. His sinful tongue followed a trail of cream over to the next piece, which was right over Castiel's heart. He lapped up the cold, savoury liquid, like he was tracing a route on a map.
Dean did the same thing for each chunk of pie, leaving dark hickies all over Castiel's chest. The fifth piece was over one of the angel's pink nipples. Dean took his time gently sucking on the soft flesh, rolling the little nub between his tongue and the back of his upper teeth, carefully chewing until the flesh hardened. Castiel was making quiet, desperate, incoherent sounds, and scraping his nails down Dean's back underneath the trenchcoat. Luckily the angel's fingernails were blunt, but they still left red welts. These just encouraged Dean, who meandered on to the seventh piece of pie, over Castiel's other nipple, giving it the same treatment he'd given the first one.
The last two chunks of pie were over the delicate skin where Castiel's thighs met his torso. Dean gripped the angel's hips tight, pinning them down with every ounce of his weight, and slowly ate the last few sticky crumbs. His grip was slick with the oily substance from Castiel's wings. One strong buck of the angel's hips would have been plenty to dislodge him. Dean just did his best to make up for this by gripping the sharp bones even harder, until his knuckles went white, and he was sure he'd leave bruises. Cas was shaking with the effort to suppress his strength, and his intense desire to take control. He'd rather die than put fear in Dean's eyes again.
By the time the pie was all gone, both men were painfully turned on, and panting for breath. The sheets were soaked with the oil which seemed to be coming from Castiel's wings. Actually, come to think of it, Dean thought it had a somewhat familiar smell. "Cas, is that holy oil?" The angel blushed, and refused to meet his eyes. "Small amounts are produced naturally, when angels groom their wings. It keeps dirt from sticking to the feathers, usually, but there are ways of stimulating excess production." Dean stared down at the angel, absolutely stunned. "You mean to tell me that all of those bottles of oil you've given me over the years…"
Cas just nodded. "The oil was mine. I discovered how to manufacture copious amounts of oil quite by accident, and thought that you could probably find a good use for it. It was rather ironic when you used it to trap me in that circle of holy fire." Dean struggled to assimilate this unexpected information. A sneaking suspicion was building in the back of his mind. "Cas, how do you force yourself to make more oil? You have to massage your wings, right? Your wings are really sensitive, so touching them that much must turn you on, right? It's like masturbation for angels, isn't it?"
AN: Hello all you lovely people! Thank you for reading this far. First, I just really want to thank the eleven people who have reviewed so far. They are my own personal angels, and they are all very much appreciated. The free hugs I was sent really made my day! As usual, the next update will be within seven days, probably sooner. There will be Sabriel soon, maybe not in the next chapter, but definitely the one after that. I still have lots of ideas for where I want this all to go. Please review, and let me know what you think. Any suggestions? Anything specific that you liked or hated? Any requests? Anything you would have done differently? I'd love to hear it! Oh, and the next chapter is going to come with free hugs. When this story is finished, each of my reviewers (except anonymous guests, because unfortunately I can't PM them) will get my magical secret for how to defeat writer's block. ^_^