With a flash of thrumming whiteness, Dean found himself in the bathroom, arms still entwined with Castiel's. He flashed him a small smile and stepped away, giving the angel a light slap on the ass.
Castiel flinched, startled, and then frowned. "Dean, did I do something to upset you?"
Dean jerked his head back slightly and squinted. "Uh, no, Cas. You're fine. That's just a… form of endearment."
Castiel continued in a slightly bewildered monotone, "I do not believe I have seen you do that to Sam."
Dean chuckled. "I don't want to have sex with Sam, angel."
"Oh, I see," replied Castiel with a shy smile. "That is a form of endearment reserved for me."
"You're a weird guy, you know that?" smiled Dean.
"I am not technically a 'guy'," he said in air quotes. Castiel turned slightly and awkwardly, haltingly swatted Dean's ass right back.
Dean yelped softly and jerked away, surprised at Castiel's playfulness. "Nope. You're Castiel, Angel of the friggin' Lord, receiver of Dean's ass slaps forever and ever, amen."
Dean turned and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. "Man, I look like a clown melted," he said under his breath. Then he turned, suddenly remembering. "That lady, was that Charlene? THE Charlene? The boop lady?"
"Indeed," Castiel replied happily. "I did not anticipate seeing her so soon. I do not know why she was with Sam; it is a strange coincidence. I shall have to ask her." He paused. "I would very much like to show my appreciation for all of her help. Without her, my endeavor certainly would have failed."
"Ah, we probably would have ended up here eventually," soothed Dean.
"I am not so sure," said Castiel, eyes cast downward. "I have trouble… talking."
"You and me both, Cas."
"And… I worry that it will continue."
Dean leaned over to start the shower, brushing arms with the angel, sending a shiver through both of them, and then stood up so they were face to face. "Well, I guess we'll just have to practice, right?" he said solemnly, green eyes reflecting blue. He reached over and loosened Castiel's pie-splattered tie enough to pull it off and let it drop to the floor. He stepped over the edge of the bathtub and hissed as the hot water hit his shoulder. He held out his hand. Castiel took it and Dean guided him in to join him, then closed the curtain behind. Dean stepped back to let the hot water massage him, arching his back to let it flow through his har. Bits of blueberry rinsed down toward the drain and he grinned, then closed his eyes.
Castiel stood awkwardly at the other end of the tub, arms at his sides, making his hands into fists and relaxing them repeatedly. He was not sure what to do, how this worked, so he just stared at his human enjoying himself.When he smiles I know he means it, thought Castiel. It lights up every dark corner . He cleared his throat. "I wish I could make you smile, always."
Dean opened his eyes and saw his angel uncomfortable, like he felt out of place. Dean raised his arms to Castiel's hips and gripped softly, then carefully stepped around him to guide him backwards to the water. Castiel felt the hot water wash over him and he decided that yes, it did feel quite pleasant. Dean did not remove his hands from the angel's hips and said softly, "I'm not always gonna smile, Cas. I'm not always gonna be happy. That's not how people work."
Castiel nodded, and somberly replied, "I know. Still, that is my wish, and I vow to make it a… priority."
Dean released Castiel and snatched the wash rag off the curtain rod. He ran it under the water behind Castiel's back and then crouched down to pick up the bottle at their feet. He placed a delicate kiss on the angel's hipbone that tingled and traveled through his abdomen to pool in his loins. Dean then squirted some soap into the washcloth and stood, regarding Castiel with a puckish look. A cloud of steam had filled the room, making their close quarters seem even more intimate. Dean lathered up the washcloth between his hands, and Castiel paid special attention to the flexing muscles in his human's forearms, the strong hands he so admired. He watched the soap bubble up and squeeze through his long fingers, dripping down to his elbows. He had never actually seen someone bathe before, not in person, and the thought of Dean soaping himself up, scrubbing off the remains of their sins, caused the tingle to build in his loins and spread out toward his extremities.
To Castiel's surprise, instead of washing himself, Dean ever so slowly reached out toward Castiel. He applied light pressure to the angel's left shoulder and moved the cloth in slow, small circles, trailing down and across his angel's chest. Castiel's lips parted slightly and he let out a small gasp as the cloth slid over his erect nipples, causing the tingle to intensify into a pulsing torridity. Castiel stood rigidly, lost in the new sensations but also unsure of what to do, how to move. Dean moved the rag downwards, applying slightly more pressure and moving in wider circles as he scrubbed the muscles of Castiel's abdomen and sides. Castiel's exhalations were little more than shallow, shuddering breaths as Dean moved down to his hips, painting ephemeral pictures in soapy swirls, dissolved in an instant by the heat of the shower. Dean stopped suddenly, just below his navel, causing Castiel to tremble at the sudden cessation of stimulation.
Dean leaned into Castiel and gently nipped the soft flesh where his neck met his shoulder and Castiel hissed with a sharp intake of breath. Dean continued up his neck, water trickling down the side of his face, leaving a trail with his teeth all the way up to Castiel's ear. He took his earlobe between his teeth and sucked, then bit down just enough to register pain.
"D-dean…" Castiel shuddered, low and gravelly voice filled with uncertainty and exhilaration.
Dean whispered low and seductively in his ear, "I'm not smilin' right now angel, but I think we're doing just fine." With that, he bit down on a soft spot just below the jaw and sucked hard, causing Castiel to reflexively reach out and around Dean, pulling him in close. With Dean pressed against him he realized that he'd become painfully aroused, and it only intensified when he realized Dean was in the same state. "Turn around, angel," Dean murmured seductively, but Castiel didn't want to release him, didn't want to turn and give up the sweet friction between their hips.
"Dean…" he gasped, "this is already very… pleasant."
"Cas," he intoned breathily, "you know I've thought about this, right? About being here with you? You don't have to do anything you don't want to, but if you turn around I promise you'll like it." He took the angel's earlobe between his teeth again and tugged hard. Castiel inhaled sharply and then nodded, lowering his arms and letting Dean slowly, carefully turn him around. Once his back was turned, he felt Dean apply the wash rag again, moving in the same slow, small circles as before. He travelled along his backside and the small of his back, sloughing every bit of sugary evidence away. He stepped closer, pressing his pelvis into Castiel from behind and he could feel the heat of him, hotter even than the scalding shower water. He reached around to soap his stomach from behind, moving sensually up and down, teasing from his pubic hairs all the way up for an occasional flick of a nipple. Then he growled low in Castiel's ear, "even if I cannot see them, are they still here?"
Castiel whimpered, struggling to find words. "You mean… my w-wings?"
"Yeah, angel, your wings."
"Y-yes and n-no," Castiel shuddered as Dean continued to soap him. "They are closer to this plane the closer they are to my body." He took a deep breath, trying to stay focused on his words. "The spot where they meet my back is the most sensi- oh!" Castiel exclaimed as Dean slipped down to his groin, causing his stiff cock to twitch reflexively. "T-that is why I prefer to wear both a suit jacket and an… overcoat," Castiel said, breathlessly.
"So, if I was to, for some reason, do this," he brought the washcloth up between his friend's shoulders, languidly circled around where the little black feathers lived, and Castiel bucked forward, almost losing his footing and toppling out of the tub. Dean saw a flickering shadow suddenly fill the bathroom, and then dissipate when he removed the washcloth. "There they are," he murmured, clearly pleased with himself.
"Dean," moaned the angel softly. The wantonness of his angel's voice aroused Dean further, sending rolling waves of desire to crash over him as if he was not submerged under the hot torrent of shower water, but instead Castiel was the torrent, his words massaging and teasing. "Dean," he groaned again, "I cannot manifest them now, it is unsafe. I cannot control myself."
"See, Cas," growled his human in his ear, "I think you can control them. You doubt yourself, but you are an Angel of the friggin' Lord. You are strong, way stronger than me," with that he laid a soft kiss and a nip right between his shoulder blades, causing the shadow to return, the steam flashing into a storm cloud for just a moment, and Dean could feel the tingle of ozone compete with the hot, wet spray. "I know you'd never hurt me," he whispered. "I believe in you."
Castiel nodded in consent, understanding now what Dean wanted. He wanted to tease Castiel, to the point of breaking, just to prove his angel could take it. "I will be strong," he said, his low growl reverberating off the bathroom tile.
Dean pulled the angel close, thrusting his hips into Castiel, who again momentarily sent dark static coursing through the room with a gasp. He leaned forward to grasp the plumbing, and focused on the hot spray to steady himself. He could feel Dean's heat, his longing, and strongest of all his adoration. His worship.
Dean let the washrag drop to the floor of the tub and slid one strong, freckled arm around Castiel's chest while the other snaked around lower, grasping his angel's rock hard wanting that flared like a lightning rod in his hand. He began to pump, agonizingly slow, and then brought his mouth again to Castiel's shoulder blades. He kissed delicately in time with the movements of his hand, every soft caress of his lips a counterpoint to the grip of his callused fingers. Castiel shuddered with pleasure, as the darkness and static ebbed and flowed with his human's movements. Air began to displace in the room, sending the steam swirling around them. A storm was moving in.
The rhythm of Dean's hand intensified unconsciously. He was enraptured, a familiar feeling whenever Castiel was around, but it was now ratched up to the end of the dial. He was the one who felt out of control; he was the one so tired of fighting, of protecting, of forcing the world to submit to his will. Waves of gratitude flooded him as water and static hissed around him. Castiel was the lightning, the sky.
Dean bit down hard between Castiel's shoulder blades, swirling his tongue and then sucking with intensity. From Castiel's panting mouth there slipped a moan, low and resonant, which triggered Dean to pump harder, faster. An arc of purple lightning shot out of his angel's spine and along the length of Dean from head to heel, and the overhead light flared then dimmed as darkness spread and filled the room. Dean groaned and pulled the angel closer, pumped faster, every atom in his body vibrating with want, with trust, with devotion.
Castiel could feel his wings pulsing just beneath the fabric of the mortal plane, desperate to break through. The effort required to maintain his human form was in and of itself a new type of torturous ecstasy. He was strong, he was in control, and he could feel his grace coalescing and intensifying within him, ready to do his bidding.
Dean bit down again and started desperately kissing the angel's back, hand pumping frantically as he began to lose himself in the storm of Castiel. He could not see Castiel smile with his shuddering breath, but he did see a low glow build in his angel's torso. He pressed his stubbly cheek into his back and gasped, "Yes, angel, come for me."
Castiel rocked back into his human, but he did not come. Instead, the glow of his grace intensified and pooled in his chest and groin, causing Dean's hands to hum with pleasure. The glow spread, and to Dean's great surprise he watched as the glow began to travel up his arms, into his shoulders, flooding his senses with a before unknown sensation that brought tears to his eyes. It was all he could do to keep his hand moving, to keep himself upright, as the glow moved into his chest. It was breathtaking, and with it the flashes of purple lightning came quicker and with greater intensity. Both of them moaned loudly, rocking into one another, and the glow spread, moving down into Dean's loins as his furiously pumped. It was with a shuddering breath he gave Castiel's shoulder blades one last, shaky kiss, and then suddenly their skin was lit with violet as the lightning flashed all around them. Castiel's muscles seized as his throbbing cock shuddered in Dean's hand, spilling itself onto the floor of the tub, and the white light that had suffused through Dean's body flared in the dark. He came with Castiel, in time with his rolling glow, crying and shaking and helpless, holding on for dear life as his angel's grace surged through him.
Time suddenly slowed to a stop, and Dean could see the spray of the shower in high detail, thousands of tiny droplets suspended midair, refracting the white and purple light. The air glittered in the darkness, the hiss of static transmuted into a low hum that caressed the tiny hairs on their skin. It was beautiful, it was perfect. It was Castiel.
With a final swell of pleasure, time rushed forward again. Castiel's grace slowly dimmed, and the lighting in the room returned to normal. Castiel took a deep breath and turned to see his human utterly undone, tears streaming down his cheeks and shaking. He wrapped Dean up in his arms and held him close. They put their chins on one another's shoulders, moving so that they were both under the hot water of the shower, where they stayed until their breaths matched one another's again.
"I told you so," Dean murmured with a smile.