Dean yawned deeply, squeezing his eyes tightly. He arched his back and stretched, extending his legs and arms in opposite directions.
Damn, I feel so much better , thought Dean. Finally, some decent sleep! He opened his eyes and let his head flop to one side.
Holy shit!
There laid Cas, propped up on one arm, a wily yet beatific smile dancing on his face. Suddenly, memories of his dream inundated Dean in waves. The blinding, neverending whiteness. The sudden appearance of his boxer-clad angel. The tape deck. Cas' face. His eyes. His lips. His heat.
Slowly, Castiel raised his hand and very gently poked Dean on the nose with the tip of his index finger. "Boop," he said in a gravelly, playful voice.
Dean blinked slowly, wide-eyed. "Did you just… boop me?"
Castiel painted a serious face over his extreme amusement and cleared his throat. "Yes Dean, I was recently introduced to the boop technique by-"
"Lemme guess, Charlene?"
Castiel's smile broke through. "Do you not like it?"
"Nah, Cas, that was just about the best boop I've ever had," Dean snorted. His chuckle turned into a chortle, which ran away into a fit that had him sitting up in the bed, doubled over laughing. Castiel began to look concerned.
"Dean," he intoned lowly, "are you okay?" He sat up and placed a hand carefully on his human's back.
Dean took a deep breath and tried to speak, but another titter squeaked out. "Aw, Cas! It feels good to laugh!"
"So, you are pleased?" Castiel asked carefully.
"Very, Cas. Boop away."
Dean angled his body toward Cas and realized that the angel was still sans clothing with the exception of his white boxer shorts. He felt a shiver trace up and down his spine only to settle low in his gut where it went for cold to warm to burning. "How long did I sleep, Cas?"
"You slept soundly for many hours before you began dreaming," he said, matter-of-factly.
"Wait, did you lay here that whole time?" Dean asked, voice tinged with guilt.
Castiel tilted his head, eyes narrowing with uncertainty. "Was that not the expectation?"
"Cas!" exclaimed Dean, "you didn't have to watch over me!"
Castiel looked down at his lap, legs folded under him. "Dean, I wanted to. I wanted to be near you. It gives me great pleasure to look after you and make sure you are safe." He paused, swallowed, then continued, "and when I am near you it makes me feel safe as well." Castiel let the hand he had pressed against Dean's back drop to the bed.
Dean snatched up his wounded angel's hand and brought it up to his shoulder. Cas made him feel like a teenager again, boiling over with hormones and emotions.
"Cas, look at me," Dean said gruffly. "This hand?" Dean pressed Castiel's hand into his shoulder, "this hand saved my life, pulled me out of Hell, because you were watching over me. Because you always watch over me." Dean gave the hand a squeeze. "I'm sorry for never appreciating that work. For never thanking you."
Castiel exhaled a small puff of breath through his nostrils. "Actually, Dean," said Castiel solemnly, "it was this hand." With that, he lifted his left hand and gently tapped Dean on the nose, silently mouthing the word boop .
"Dammit, Cas!" exclaimed Dean in faux anger, "I'm trying to have a moment here!" He playfully shoved the angel, who was caught off balance. Castiel started windmilling his arms as he slid off the edge of the bed, eyes wide, and then suddenly he was gone in a flash of static and rustle of feathers.
"Cas?" called Dean quietly, leaning toward the edge of the bed.
"Yes?" replied the angel who was now standing directly behind him.
Dean jumped out of his skin, scrambling to turn in the bed but getting caught up in the blankets. "Jesus, Cas!"
"Language, Dean," growled the angel, eyebrow raised mischievously. He leaned down toward Dean, placing a hand on the bed, following it with a knee. He pushed Dean down and back with his other hand and crawled over him, straddling him. Dean was dumbfounded, propping himself up on his elbows, watching his angel's muscles tighten and slacken and he sat up to give Dean a whole new view.
"Dean, you should remove your shirt," murmured the angel, words thick with desire.
Dean blinked rather than spoke and then scrambled to pull off the t-shirt, no small feat considering his prone position. Castiel made no effort to speed the process or help in any way. In fact, Dean could swear he felt Castiel squeeze his legs together tighter, pinning Dean's hips. Dean couldn't help but to buck up into them slightly.
Castiel beheld Dean and felt his grace swell and pulse inside of him. He felt strong, confident. He knew what he wanted; he wanted to see Dean Winchester absolutely begging. HIS human, HIS Dean, absolutely wrecked by adoration. He relished Dean's shallow panting, his sleep-mussed hair, the way he could feel him straining and aching underneath his pelvis. He leaned down, nipples brushing against Dean's chest, and he could hear the air catch in his throat.
"Do you remember what you asked me in your dream, Dean?" murmured Castiel languidly, his heavy-lidded azure eyes flashing with hidden intent.
Dean was paralyzed with lust. He could barely remember his own name. Only one word kept repeating over and over in his head.
"Cas," he sighed piteously, "oh Cas, Cas…" His breathing became more labored. Those eyes burning into him, the heat of him pressing down. He wanted nothing more than to feel those long, strong hands kneading the muscles of his chest, trailing along the length of his jaw, but the angel kept them away.
"Ask me your question again," he instructed his human. Dean responded with a moan. "Now, Dean, that will not do." He pressed his mouth into Dean's softly, closed-lipped, and then gently nipped at his lower lip.
Dean suddenly found his tongue. "Aw, to Hell with this!" he gasped, reaching up toward Castiel to pull him down onto him, but Castiel caught his hands and pinned them above his head. He then ground down on Dean, hard. Castiel could feel Dean's erection pressing into him, which only served to further embolden the angel.
"Ask your question, Dean," growled Castiel. "And you should ask… politely." The angel's eyes glowed softly.
No one had ever spoken to Dean like this before, treated him this way before. He could feel the angel's love washing over him, but the angel was acting downright dominant. Brash. Cocky. Dean felt completely helpless, and he loved every fucking second of it. For once he didn't need to be vigilant. He didn't need to protect anyone. He didn't even need to think about himself. He could let Castiel take the wheel, and he felt confident that he'd love the destination. He swallowed.
"Cas," his voice said, cracking, "will you… please let me touch your wings?"
The look on Dean's face was the beginning, and his pleading voice was the end. Grace that Castiel could barely control surged through his body, illuminating every curve and crevice, and firing up his eyes. His huge, black wings exploded out behind him in a rainbow fury of sparkling electricity. He reached underneath Dean and pulled him up into a seated position with Castiel still straddling. He wrapped his arms tightly around Dean and whispered into his ear something Dean didn't understand. The words seemed to have some purpose of their own, and he could feel their intent swimming through his conscious mind.
"Wha-Cas? What was that?" Dean whispered breathlessly.
"It's Enochian," Castiel whispered in reply. "It means, "you may."
Castiel slowly, luxuriously backed off of his human, who elicited a piteous moan the stiffened Castiel to rock-hard attention under his boxers. Upon standing, he flexed the muscles of his chest and back, spreading every glorious, swirling feather to its full extension. From his vantage point on the bed, Dean could see the wings in clear detail. The feathers were as inky as an oil slick, pulsing with colors that his brain strained to name. They were layered, with shorter, softer feathers on top yielding to longer ones mid-wing. The bottoms of the wings were comprised of long, broad, strong-looking feathers that shone like mirrors reflecting back a night sky. Dean was overcome, wrecked, and broken by their beauty. He felt helpless, and tears filled his eyes because he had never seen anything so breathtaking.
Castiel tucked his wings in slightly as he turned around in the small room until his back was facing Dean. He ached for Dean's nearness. He was sitting on the bed, but he might as well have been miles away. He was just about to verbally prompt Dean, but then he heard the springs of the bed squeak. He could sense his human getting closer, shivering in the static.
Dean took a deep breath. Get it together, man. Be cool. Quit shaking. He raised one hand up to gently- shit, where do I even start? This was wholly unfamiliar territory and, despite Castiel's apparent confidence, he knew the same went for his angel as well. His stomach flip flopped between gobsmacked awe and unquenchable carnality with dizzying fervor. He could see Castiel writhe and flex, presenting himself more prominently, arching toward Dean in anticipation. Dean could hear his shallow, labored breath.
The anticipation was twisting Castiel into knots. He was absolutely terrified. No one had ever touched his wings before, no angel, no human. His wings were extraplanar, and the fact that he could manifest them at all on Earth was a sign that something was different now. Somehow his feelings for Dean, his desires, his adoration, allowed him to bring them forth and keep them materialized. Everything about his new paradigm was unfamiliar, rollicking, and risky. So many points of failure. He tried desperately to project an air of confidence because he wanted to be that for Dean. Confident, caring, and full of purpose. No hesitations, no reservations, just Castiel, Angel of the Lord. He could feel Dean's hand grow closer and then croaked, "No, wait."
Dean stopped abruptly, mere inches from where Castiel's glorious wings met his shoulders, smooth skin merging with fine, silky black feathers. Castiel's light dimmed to a barely noticeable glow and Dean could see the feathers quiver.
Dean pressed his lips together and shivered. He was so close. Something was wrong and he knew it, and he withdrew his hand. "Cas, he whispered hoarsely, "talk to me."
Castiel remained presented, and whispered back, "I am afraid."
"Why, Cas?"
"I am not a human. I am not a woman. I have never done this before, and despite everything feeling right I am not sure if it actually is right. I know what I want, but I also know that if we move forward now we can never go back." His feathers shivered again.
Dean was so wrapped up in his dominant Castiel that he hadn't stopped to think about ramifications, hadn't wanted to. Everything about this had felt so right, despite the realities of the situation being counter to the previous status quo. He didn't care that Castiel wasn't human, or a woman. He was Cas, goddamn Angel of the Lord, a whole new category that Dean had never dreamed could be an option until now.
"Cas," Dean said, gruffness tinged with adoration, "I don't want to go back, ever. This is Manifest Destiny, Angel. You're Lewis, I'm Clark, and I wanna take this road all the way to the ocean."
Castiel wiped away tears with heels of his hands, folded his wings, and turned toward Dean. "Are you sure?" he rasped.
"Never been more sure of anything, Angel."
Castiel looked down and didn't speak for a moment. Then finally, in nothing more than a whisper, he said, "I believe you, Dean Winchester."
Dean stepped forward and took Castiel's head in his hands, pressing their foreheads together. "We can do this, or not. Cas, I just want you to be-"
Castiel suddenly brought his hands to the sides of Dean's face and pressed in to kiss him. It was not the hot and heavy teasing from before, but instead soft, sad, and grateful. Their lips were just barely parted, tongues flicking lightly in and out, mouths moving as one. Though Dean's eyes were closed, he could feel Castiel's heat and light intensifying once more. Castiel pulled himself in deeper, soft lips and curious tongue exploring more. He intertwined his tongue with Dean's, trying to take him all in, mind flooded with one phrase over and over. I am your angel. I am your angel.
Suddenly, without a conscious thought, Castiel began to spread his wings once again. They unfurled slowly and Dean could hear them rustling. He broke away from Castiel's kiss to watch them expand gloriously, swirling with light and color. He pulled Castiel back in with a desperate, deeper kiss that left them both breathless. Then he kissed him again, lustily, on the angel's cheek. A kiss on the neck, and then another on his collarbone. The angel arched backward, bringing his wings to full extension, quavering and filling the room. Dean's teeth grazed Castiel's neck and the angel's breath hitched in his throat. Another one on the jaw, and then Dean began to whisper, each word punctuated with increasingly animalistic kisses. "You. Are. Magnificent."
"Oh, Dean," sighed Castiel, eyes upward and closed. Castiel took Dean's hands and brought them to his shoulders. He opened his eyes and Dean could see them glowing with an intense wanting. His mouth opened and a deep, reverberating voice dripping with sex commanded, "Touch me."
Dean didn't need to hear it twice. His breath quickened as he slid his hands over Castiel's shoulder and down his spine to where his wings met his back. He lightened his pressure and gently, delicately, ran his fingertips along the feathery junction.
"Ahhhh," Castiel shuddered, knees weakening. He fell forward against Dean and wrapped his arms around his human's torso for support. It was as if Dean's hands were not there on his back, but everywhere at once. It felt like every nerve fiber was a string on some great instrument, and that Dean was playing them all simultaneously.
Dean's hands thrummed with electricity, feeling heat and desire that intensified in the bottom of his abdomen. Castiel nearly collapsed in his arms and they both surged with a wave of pleasure. A huge smile grew on his face, and he knew he was doing well. He brought his hands back up to his angel's face and he watched his friend whimper. "Angel," he said gently, voice quavering, "turn around."
Castiel complied wordlessly, composing himself the best he could, folding his wings and turning. Dean took him by hand and guided him to the bed. "Lay face down." He helped his shaking friend down onto his stomach, the edge of Castiel's wings grazing Dean's side and sending his cock twitching. This is hands down, by far, the hottest thing I've ever seen.
Castiel laid his cheek down on a pillow and gripped it with both hands. He never thought he could feel like this, so alive, so powerful, so helpless. He knew the power his wings had over Dean, and the power Dean had over his wings, over him. He extended them fully and tried to relax, letting them droop slightly to graze the ground. He could feel Dean slide into the bed to straddle his legs. "Dean, stop," he said breathlessly. Dean froze. "Take off your pants," he grinned into the pillow. "I promise I will not peek," the angel sighed, pressing his hips into the mattress.
Dean didn't need to be told again. He tugged the waistband of his sweat pants down and let them drop to his feet. He stood erect, painfully hard, wincing as the charged air of the room washed over him. He nearly collapsed back onto the bed but caught himself, and caressed his hand along the inside of Castiel's lean, strong leg. "Angel?" he said in a shaky voice, asking permission.
"Yes, Dean," he growled into the pillow, and then he spoke in Enochian again, the same words as before. You may.