Dean finds his way back to his and Sam's little slice of paradise about 8 in the morning. Sam opens the door before he even reaches for the knob.
"Where the Hell were you?" He sounds like a worried soccer mom.
Dean brushes past him and keeps his head down. "Nowhere. Just clearing my head."
Sam shuts the door behind him and calls to Dean's back, "And you wanna tell me why you have a busted lip?"
Dean sighs and turns around, just barely resisting reaching up to touch it. Why do they have to do this now. Or at all even. He clinches his jaw and tries to sound easy going.
"Went to a nearby bar. Played some pool and got into a disagreement with some asshole on who the winner was. That's it." Simple. Done. He almost makes it across the room.
"Yeah?" Sam seemed exasperated and trying not to yell. "Without your wallet?"
Damn.
"What do you want from me?"
"How about the truth? I wanna know what's up with you lately!"
Poor Sam. If he knew what Dean thought about.. fantasized about. At night he dreamed of shadows in a never-ending forest. Red eyes. The whipping sound of blades striking downward. Cries and screams and blood and viscera and...
"Well?!" Sam is staring at him expectantly and it hurts to meet his eyes.
Dean is stoically silent until Sam sighs and says, "I just want to know you're okay, Dean."
"I'm fine." Dean turns away and grabs his duffel bag on the way to the bathroom.
Dean drops the bag on the ugly linoleum floor and braces his hands on the sink. He looks up at the mirror. Sure enough, Cas split his lip. He watches his own tongue dart out over the wound and winces at the small pain. Stupidly, he feels a momentary interest in his jeans. It's something other than emptiness and the craving for the kill.
He huffs and turns on the faucet to splash cold water on his face. Everything's mixed up in his head. It's been so long since he's wanted anything to do with what's below his belt. God, he's fucked up. And Cas is fucked up. What even happened? He's staring at his wet hands. The anger pulled back.. just for a second... When Cas hit him.
Dean reaches over and starts the shower. He doesn't know if Sam noticed the dirt and grass stains he got all over his clothes from rolling around on the ground. He strips and gets under the weak spray of water. Sucky motel water pressure. Awesome.
Giving the warm water time to loosen his muscles up he leans his head against the wall. After a few seconds of staring at the blue tiles and not really seeing them, he bites on his slightly swollen bottom lip.
Pain shivers out from it and he nearly groans. Dean's breathing picks up. He shuts his eyes and lets the fight replay.
Cas pushing him into the ground. Holding him down. His weight seeming a lot more for a guy smaller than Dean. Maybe he used his wings to help him keep steady above Dean when Dean had been trying his hardest to surge upwards.
Dean does groan now, low and in the back of his throat. His hand is tugging down his stiff length. Other hand splayed on the slick surface in front of him. His feet widen apart a little.
He'd never admit it out loud but you can't really lie to yourself... When Cas goes all Bad Ass Motherfucker.. it gets him hard. Not always and he can usually talk him down with self-loathing comments and mental images of old ladies in bikinis.
Somewhere, far away in the back of his head, he knows he won't be able to look at himself in the mirror for a while after this, let alone Cas.. But right now that doesn't mean shit.
He turns his head so his cheek is pressed hard against the shower wall and imagines Cas' phantom hand forcing his neck forward to hold him still.
"Fuck!" Dean shuts his eyes even tighter, roughly jerking his cock. There's no finesse, just him fucking his own fist and pressing his whole upper body as close to the tile as possible.
Cas glaring at him with those goddamn blue marbles of his. He's really close. Almost fucking there.
He finally lets the thought he'd been saving pop up front and center.
Cas above him, locking his jaw and reeling back to smack him across the face so hard he sees stars burst behind his eyelids.
Dean bites down on his lip till he tastes fresh blood and cries out harshly. His toes curl and cum mixes with the water down the drain.
Panting, Dean let's his eyes slowly open and sluggishly moves off the wall.
God, he's so broken.
Author's Note:
I know it's a tad short. I was over-eager to get to sexy times. Have it while I take longer to get out a substantial next chapter. *Eskimo Kisses*