Okay guys, this chapter here can be considered fairly mature, so proceed with caution. This chapter has been edited.

Dean knew exactly what had gone on at the diner. A subtle defiance countered by display of superiority. It had happened more than once, but never when Sammy was around. Well, there was that one time, but he didn't really count that because Sam hadn't actually caught them, just almost. After they had almost gotten caught he had made the angel promise to never ever let Sam find out about what they were doing. He liked it, sure, because it wasn't real. There wasn't any touching, there weren't any feelings, he could almost pretend like it wasn't absolutely ludicrous, but if Sam knew. Well, if Sam knew he'd be forced to face the music, and truth be told, he'd rather be chased by a pack of Hellhounds through a minefield than go through that. However, as it stood, Dean did enjoy reminiscing about the first time it had happened. That first time Cas had used his 'angel mojo' on Dean came as a complete surprise, and now the thought of it brought a mixture of excitement and anxiety through Dean, but also a twisted sort of humor. Yeah, he supposed it was kind of funny.

They were staying in a motel just out of Iowa, on a case involving a particularly nasty vengeful spirit, then again, when were vengeful spirits not nasty. Dean was propped up on the bed watching another re-run of Doctor Sexy MD, sipping a beer, while Sam sat at the table, face glowing from the laptop propped open in front of him. It was supposed to be a quiet night of research when there was a flutter of wings, a rush of air, and suddenly a slightly disgruntled angel standing at the foot of the bed Dean was resting on, squarely between him and the television.

"Cas!" Dean jumped, spilling his open beer on the front of his shirt. "Warn a guy next time!" He uselessly swatted at the wet patch on his shirt, when the dark splotch didn't change he sighed agitatedly before leaning over the end of the bed to grab a fresh shirt from his duffel. He pulled out yet another plain gray tee from his seemingly endless supply before sitting back up on the bed. He reached for the back of his shirt to pull it over his head, narrowing his eyes when he noticed that Cas, still at the foot of the bed, was watching him with rapt attention. "You mind?'

"Not particularly." Cas replied, ticking his head to the side with a slight frown. Dean sighed, shedding his soiled shirt and replacing it with his new one.

"What do you want?" Dean asked once his head was poked out of the top. As he was sliding it down his toned stomach he noticed the angel's eyes had widened marginally, following the motion of Dean's hands and finally resting on the sliver of skin still peeking out above the hem of his pants. He tugged the hem down self-consciously before clearing his throat. This brought Cas' attention back up to his gaze. He stared directly into the blue eyes that he had stared into so often. Those deep blue eyes that reminded him of the ocean on a stormy day, they had such power behind them. I wonder how powerful he is.. Wait. What? Dean thought, mentally shaking such strange thoughts right off.

"I have no news of Lucifer, and I don't know where to look next." At this Castiel shook his head in a very human fashion. He was clearly frustrated at his inability to know where to look next.

"Well, you wanna move? I'm missing my show."

"Dean, what's wrong?" Sam turned to look at his brother, and by the look on his face, had noticed the odd tension emanating between the two other men in the room.

"Nothing, Sam." Dean replied, staring dagger at the angel in front of him. After all he'd been through was it really so hard to just let him watch a little TV?

"Sure," Sam began sarcastically, "I think I'll go get some food, I'm pretty hungry, wanna toss me your keys?" In one fluid motion, and without looking away, Dean tossed Sam his keys from across the room, which he caught with one hand and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Don't make me tell you again, Cas. Move!" At this Cas cocked an eyebrow and his hand shot out in front of him, aimed at the man on the bed.

"I am tired of your attitude Dean." He said gruffly, eyebrows knitted together. Simultaneously the light bulb in the lamp next to the bed shattered and the TV shut off. Dean's eyes widened at the sudden outburst and he looked frantically back over at Cas who took a step forward so his legs were flush with the bed. "You scream at me for doing what you want." Dean felt an invisible force around his wrists tighten and pull them to the side of the bed, his legs were next. He lay there, spread-eagle and unable to move as he gaped up at the angel at the foot of the bed, panic coursing through him. "And you scream at me for not doing what you want." Castiel spoke in an ominously calm voice as he glowered at his charge, pink lips parting slightly. "Don't scream Dean."

Dean suddenly felt a pressure just below his buckle, he gasped in surprise. "The hell are you-!" But that was all he managed to get out as the pressure started trailing a slow path up his abdomen. The feeling reminded him of hands, strong but a little too hot, as they slowly traced his stomach muscles, reaching up under his shirt, gently brushing over his nipples as they continued to feel down his sides. He tried to move, tried to get out of this strange situation, but the invisible shackles held him in one place. One of the 'hands' started moving back down south, tracing over every contour of his torso seductively on the way, suddenly it gripped around his member, causing Dean to let out a strangled yelp. Meanwhile, the other ran over his ribs to his back, scratching savagely at the skin there. His eyelids fell closed as a loud, desperate moan ripped through Dean before he could stop it when the force started rubbing very gently around his manhood.

"Cas, please-" He croaked through heavy breaths. At the moment he wasn't sure if he wanted to say stop, or keep going. All he could feel was the pleasure of something that wasn't him slowly building him to a climax. All he could think was how good it felt and how long had it been since he'd gotten laid? This is Cas though. Said a tiny voice in the back of his mind, his eyes flew open and he peered down at the man, his eyelids were half closed, brows furrowed, and a small smile was playing at his lips. It's not gay if we don't touch right? Dean reasoned, noticing a definite bulge in the Cas' pants, and right as he was about to comment on this, the pressure started moving faster, brushing the top of the head every so often and sending shivers down Dean's spine. It worked its way up and down his shaft, getting him closer and closer. He squeezed his eyes shut, arched up off the bed "Oh shit!" He was on the brink, and then, there was nothing.

Dean opened his eyes, already feeling the pressure in his nether regions building up. Cas was still standing at the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, arms down by his sides. His eyes were wide, a look of terror plastered on his face that Dean had already seen once before, at the brothel. He looked down at his hands as though they were foreign before looking back up to meet Dean's gaze. "Cas," Dean breathed "What… Why?" He tried to bring his arms up, glancing down at them momentarily when he saw that he could move them again. When he glanced back up the angel, he was gone. Sighing he sat up on the bed, pulling off his new shirt in preparation to take a shower. At that point in time, Sam walked in through the door, carrying a large paper bag, to see Dean on his bed, slouched over and back to him.

"Dean," Sam paused, searching for the least awkward phrasing.

"What, Sam!" Dean snapped and turned around. He was sweaty and a bit red in the face.

"When was the last time you got laid?"

"Why do you care?"

"You've still got the scratch marks on your back." Sam replied, snickering to himself.

"Shut up bitch." Dean retorted, making his way to the bathroom to relieve the pressure caused by the onset of his blue balls. He heard a faint "Jerk" trailing behind him as he turned the knob and was faced with the familiar hiss of the shower. What the hell was that?