This case Dean, Sam and Cas were tackling was a tough nut to crack - There was no rhyme nor reason to it, enough to make them debate pretty heatedly if it was in fact a Vetala or a tulpa, but they hadn't found any amount of local legends to verify either way, and certainly nothing as easy as a chat forum with enough discussion to summon a tulpa.
When Sam and Cas had decided the old dusty tomes at the local library possibly bore more information than the handy internet Dean had been tasked with, Dean had felt a bit sour, pointedly getting into his Baby when Sam and Cas had started towards the local library, probably to pore over microfilms with enthusiasm or some such shit, just like the dorks they were.
No, he hadn't really thrown a tantrum, but the frustration of this case had been getting to him. It wasn't that he didn't want to do his share for the hunt, and he had thought he had, but the feeling of dismissal was gnawing at him.
Perhaps that's why, for the first time in the eight months since Castiel and Dean had first shared a kiss in front of Sam, while Cas was pouring coffee for Dean in the morning in the tiny kitchenette of Sam and Dean's motel room, thus making it pretty fucking clear that this "best friends" deal had turned into something a bit more significant without either of them even really noticing, and thus revealing a secret that wasn't a secret at all, to Sam.
Sam, bless his heart, had had the grace to slightly clear his throat, and try really, really hard to keep his eyes constantly lifting from his newspaper, instead of to the angel and his brother sitting at the edge of the bed, sharing a cup of coffee and talking about the case.
Since it had all happened so easily, so naturally and instinctively, it took Dean for a thorough spin when Sam and Cas were leaving to go to the library, Cas pulled Dean closer by the elbow and planted a chaste kiss on him. Right there in the middle of the street for Sam, God and everyone who had eyes to see. Exactly like he had many, many times before. This time, Dean froze, felt like that tantrum was going to happen anyway, and hightailed it out of there, leaving behind a frowning Cas and an oblivious Sam.
So , Dean thought. It had taken eight months for the panic to surface, and suddenly he knew exactly what had caused it.
For months he'd been kissing Cas freely, had had feelings that made him blush since, probably, the first time he saw the angel, or whenever, he can't even remember. It had been years, that much he did know.
Sure, he'd known he swung both ways since he was fourteen, but he'd very quickly become a fucking pro at hiding it from his father.
John Winchester's both sober and drunken rants about faggots and sodomites and the filthy, disgusting, godless lives the maggots lived, had been enough of a deterrent to stop him from ever even daring to think about breaching the subject, and since they were always moving from town to town anyway, who cared what and whose orifice Dean decided to fuck once they were stationary for a moment. It wasn't like he was going to bring anyone home to dinner anyway. Even the thought was laughable.
But something about it all now bugged Dean enough to have him make a detour to a liquor store and blindly grab whatever was cheap strong, hop in Baby and floor it to the motel. He needed to get away.
He needed to be alone and chase down this nagging, overwhelming, very old feeling with a hefty amount of alcohol.
Now, half a bottle later, it gnawed at him; How John had died for him in that hospital, made that demon deal with Yellow Eyes, actually given his soul so that Dean could live, and now Dean couldn't even live his life the way his father would have wanted. Would hack and spit on him, if he knew.
Seeking answers from the bottom of a bottle, Dean took a long swallow of the rot-gut and leaned back against the wall on the bed he was lounging on - the self-same bed he was sharing with Cas.
He stares at the space that is occupied by Cas during the nights they spent here, and takes a long swig from the bottle, trying to swallow down the bile rising in his throat.
Guilt wasn't anything new. It was something he'd been on the first name basis since he was ten, hell, most of the time it was Dean's middle name.
So it wasn't unusual how the blanket of it fell heavily on his shoulders, making him hunch over into himself, defeated.
His Dad would've disowned him for this. This unnatural relationship, John's oldest son bedding a man-shaped angel time after time out of his own free will. His father would've beaten him, sneered at him and never looked at Dean again.
It was wrong to enjoy so deeply, so truly, something he'd been ingrained with thinking as depraved and sick, no matter how much of his need for rebellion had taken him to the beds, and bathroom stalls, and back alleys with other men. But he'd always hated himself afterwards, there was denying that.
John's words had echoed in his head loudly on each of his walks of shame back then, taunting him, until the urge took him the next time, and John's voice became silent.
Now, in the present, to really, completely love the feel of Cas deep inside him when they fucked, to give himself to the fantastic feeling of turning into trembling, breathless jelly in the hands of his angel had always been something else entirely.
For Dean to feel his lips tingle deliciously, his heart gentle and full of affection, for long minutes after their kiss had already slowed into soft presses and stopped eventually with their foreheads together.
Dean stared at the amber liquid for answers, none of which were coming forth. He took another deep swig and hit his head against the wall with a bang.
To feel something. To clear his head. To feel something . To feel anything but this fucking indescribable, infuriating confusion.
Anything other than the heart-warming glow of how his thoughts turned to Castiel. About how Cas's large hand calm him instantly when landing on his shoulder in a tense situation, how those long fingers massage his scalp when he feels a headache coming.
Those clever fingers coaxing him towards his orgasm when they have their time alone. How Dean is helpless in the hold of those sure, safe hands, when wrapped in strong arms, and the wild feeling of complete freedom when Cas's tongue delves deep into his hole, while Cas ate him out without a hint of shame, sloppily, ravenously.
Dean, helpless in the best of ways.
Helpless, looking in the huge, blue, blue eyes of Castiel, an Angel of the Lord, where love for Dean shines brighter than his grace.
Dean's lips slant into a smile, his eyes gleaming with emotion, looking at the label of the bottle, as if he's seeing Cas's face there.
He loves Cas, the stubborn bastard. With his heart glowing, Dean realizes something he's realized many times before, and yet, it never loses its meaning - Dean loves Cas with all his heart. Has for a long ass time.
Things that spell good times flash before Dean's mind's eye, things that were hidden away, pushed painfully behind the black wall of his dark thoughts; things that remind Dean of how he can be himself - Cas laughing at some very odd things sometimes, and how sometimes Dean's still surprised to be laughing along. Just because he adores seeing Cas happy.
Cas's eyes, the gaze soft, so soft, right before Dean goes cross-eyed following them while their lips meet, making Cas smile gummily into the kiss.
Castiel, the soldier of Heaven, willing to let it all go to utter shit for Dean.
Cas, who gasps broken moans, chanting Dean's name between groans when he comes hard into Dean's throat, thrusting, careful but deep like he could replace his claim on him within.
Dean wished he could. He missed the hand print, Cas's mark on him, fiercely.
Right now, alone, buzzed and lost in memories both painful and blissful, he misses Cas something awful.
Stupid tulpavetala research keeping his angel away.
His slightly blurry gaze comes into focus with some difficulty when a sound raises him from his revelry, and he squints at the whiskey bottle in his hand.
Surely he wasn't drunk enough to be hearing nonexistent shit.
"Hello, Dean." Dean lifts his head to see Castiel at the inside of the door to the room looking serious, frowning concernedly. "I felt your longing." Cas looked away as if finding his words, his posture guarded. "I-. I wasn't sure if I should answer."
The smile on Dean's face grows, his empty hand reaching for Cas without a thought, natural, and Cas takes a careful step closer.
"I felt your distress. I would've come sooner, but there was something stopping me, in your mind." Cas squinted at Dean, closing the distance further. Dean sets the bottle on the night table and swings his feet to the floor to stand up, the sight of Cas making his heart beat double time. Suddenly he feels warm all over.
A wisp of a memory brushes through his mind, John Winchester calling people names he never wants to repeat. Hurtful names, things that carve deeper than a knife.
Then Cas takes another step closer, taking Dean's hand, and the voice is gone. In its place is absolute certainty.
That certainty takes hold of Dean, the empty ache of Cas not already being in his arms echoing hollow when he gets up and steps across the separating space and
wraps Cas in an embrace.
Dean hates the hesitancy with which Cas lifts his arms, something that had become a surety, but Dean refuses to let go.
Instead, he seeks Cas's lips and kisses him hard, reaffirming, and sighes a small breath of relief when Cas kisses him back without question.
And just like that Dean feel light again. The tingle coursing through his body begins from his fingertips, the one that never fails to appear once he gets his hands on Cas. It pushes away the last vestiges of his awful guilt, replacing it with an almost giddy sensation of belonging .
Quietly, admittedly slightly swimming in whiskey, Dean swears to never doubt this again.
How Cas is there for him, how he withheld his brimming questions to respond eagerly, taking this moment to be theirs, pouring his own love into Dean. It's immeasurable.
"Don't go," was all Dean can say out loud while pushing Cas's trenchcoat off his shoulders and onto a heap on the floor.I'll never doubt us again, his heart says.
"I wouldn't," Cas answered, his arms tight around Dean, his face pressed to Dean's neck, lips brushing his skin when he whispers;
"I love you Dean Winchester."
Lifting Cas's shirt, Dean slides his palms over the bare skin of Cas's back, slotting his hands so perfectly against Castiel, while Cas sinks his fingers through the short hair of the back of Dean's head, tilting his head just so to kiss Dean into forgetting anything and everything that wasn't Cas.
Together, they are right .
"Sam promised to stay away from our door until morning," Cas speaks against Dean's lips, making Dean grin with a chuckle, sparing a thankful thought at his giant, devious brother.
In the next moment, Dean claims Cas's mouth, thrusting his tongue into his mouth hungrily.
Castiel opens up pliantly, licking at Dean's tongue with the tip of his own the way that drives Dean crazy, Dean's hands finding Cas's belt and making quick work unfastening it, deftly unhooking the clasp of Cas's slacks, the adrenaline and arousal having chased away the slight drunkenness from his blood flow, which promptly takes the opportunity to flood Dean's cock.
Dean pulls back with a wink and a promising grin, relishing in the look on Cas's face, the blush on his cheeks, the spit- slickness of those gorgeous lips, and Dean takes Cas's hands and feels his way up to Cas's wrists, unbuttoning the sleeves and rolling them up slowly, baring the muscular arms of his angel, Cas smiling at Dean indulgently, reveling in the mischievous way Dean's lips curve once Cas's skin is revealed bit by bit.
Next were the buttons in the front of Cas's shirt, both the men opening them as quickly as humanly, or angelically possible, their chuckles and their amused looks making both
their hearts swell, Dean thanking whatever, or whoever it was that made Cas so completely at ease with anything to do with sex.
Once Cas's slacks, socks and boxers have been remover, and Dean had had a proper handshake with Cas's cock since he couldn't help himself, the magnificent
cock always demanding his attention, even brief as it might be each time Cas is bared.
Somewhat with less of a hurry, Castiel brushes Dean's red flannel off his shoulders, throwing it in the pile with his trenchcoat, and pulls the dark green t-shirt off slowly, eyes grazing on every bared inch of skin, until the shirt, too, hits the floor.
More impatient, Dean gets rid of his jeans, socks and underwear in one go, hopping on one foot when the leg of his jeans gets tangled with his sock.
Straightening, they're both chuckling again, Dean naked as the day he was born with a hard on that's already forming a drop of precome at the tip, Cas clad in
his open white dress shirt and dark blue tie. The tie which Dean uses to pull Castiel with him, as he backs towards the bed and flops on his back with an "oof", causing Cas to fall on top of him, Dean bracketed by Cas's elbows and their thighs slotting between each other's, so their cocks could comfortably find relieving friction against their stomachs.
Castiel smirks at Dean and pecks a kiss to his lips, before leaning over Dean to the left to get to the night stand, catching Dean's nipple between his teeth and nipping gently while pushing his hips down, causing Dean to squeak and laugh giddily, slightly swatting Cas's right arm, a touch which turns into a firm stroke up to Cas's sturdy shoulder.
Triumphantly presenting the lube to Dean before discarding it on the bed, Cas nuzzles Dean's neck, and suck hard, making Dean buck against Castiel with a groan, his both hands under Cas's shirt and rubbing his shoulders, admiring in the muscles there.
Slowly, Cas lifts his head and Dean promptly wraps his leg around the back of Cas's thigh, holding his still while tilting Cas's head so that he can leave his own mark on Cas's neck.
Cas sighs deep, grinding down, giving Dean all the room he needs to work his throat, and once Dean is done, Cas looks him in the eye and motherfucking winks .
Slightly out of breath, Cas wiggles his ass so that Dean knows to loosen his grip, and Cas begins a slow descent down Dean's torso, getting on all fours and kissing and licking on his way to his goal, Cas's tie tickling Dean's skin in a way that almost makes him squirm, but the visual is so worth it.
Dean sinks his fingers into Cas's hair, head tilted to better see, devouring the sight of Cas, eyes closed and a blissful look on his face, his cock hanging heavy and thick between his legs while he makes his travels.
Not sure if it took too little or too much time for Cas to reach his cock, Dean anticipates a wet lick, a velvety heat, and he scratches lightly, Cas's scalp impatiently.
"Cas looks up at Dean through hooded eyes and a wicked grin. "Not tonight," he says, leaning on his left elbow to shift his weight, Dean's already over Cas's body again.
Mouth agape, Dean watches as Cas grabs his tie in hand, and leans down enough to be able to fumble and wrap half of the length around Dean's cock loosely, his fist tightening firmly around the fabric beginning to stroke Dean languidly.
All Dean can do is gasp at the sensation of the smooth fabric sliding across his iron hard dick, precome oozing out his slit and dribbling all the way to the fabric, leaving the already dark material black with a stain that should have to be embarrassing, somehow.
Any and all thoughts of embarrassment are licked away, as Cas slurps at the tip of Dean's cock, making him choke on his breath, Cas swirling his tongue around the glans to catch all the dribble that isn't going to make Dean blush every time he sees Cas's tie, the stain gone or not.
All Dean can do is take deep breaths at the erotic sight, of Cas's lips around him, his large hand around his cock, the feel of Ca's tie pressed tight and hot to jerk Dean off so differently from any dry hand or lube, and when Cas scoots his knees higher up the bed to get more purchase, his strokes longer, beginning to play with Dean's balls with his other hand, Dean is devastatingly torn, mind gone.
While hes's ecstatic seeing Cas lost in staring at his hand around the tie, stroking Dean's cock with it, thumb working circles to add sensations, Deane wants to come just like this - this is something Cas is giving him, and judging from the way Cas's own precome is drooling down to the smattering of wiry hair under his cock and onto his balls, almost pooling there, this is something that absolutely turns Cas on. But there will be another time to explore that, since on the other side of the coin, Dean desperately wants to come on Cas's cock, and he wants that gorgeous cock in him yesterday.
"Cas," Dean swallows hard between breaths, tugging at Castiel's hair insistently. "Cas, look at me, come here, sunshine."
While Cas unwraps his gift, Dean gets a moment to breathe deep, hands already hauling Cas up by anything he can reach, and bringing him up for a bruising kiss.
Cas's eyes are gleaming with lust when he tilts his head at Dean inquisitively.
"Please fuck me. Cas, I really need you to fuck me," Dean rubs urgent circles around Cas's back, lifting his hips so that Cas clues in to give him room to spread his legs properly.
Quickly, and obviously with the program, Cas rises to his knees. "Up," he all but commands softly, so that he can slip a pillow under Dean's lower back, his other hand already searching for the lube he had the foresight to get ready for use.
Fumbling with the snap-lid a couple times as his fingers are trembling, Cas manages a very generous dollop of lube to his fingers, and uses both his other hand and the lubed hand's forearm to guide Dean's legs up over his shoulders.
Both of them comfortable, Cas slides his clean hand along Dean's thigh, up and down, waiting with a smile that steal's Dean's breath away.
With an answering smile, Dean nods, "Sometime tonight, sunshine," and Cas laughs shortly, his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching, all the while he lowers his hand from Dean's thing down to his buttock, spreading it, and touching his lubed finger to Dean's hole.
Cas pushes the tip of his middle finger in to the first knuckle, instantly getting Dean to push back, and Cas let's go of Dean's asscheek, leaning forward, bracing himself on his arm.
Dean wraps his fingers around Cas's clothed forearm tight, staring straight into his eyes, demanding. "More. Two."
Cas is only an angel, and he's also not known for denying anything from Dean. They both know Dean likes a bit of a stretch, so Cas does as instructed, and adds another thick finger along the first, slowly but surely pushing deeper, Dean keening and grappling at Caas's arm, his legs flexing but his hole giving way to the pressure.
Only a few thrusts later, Dean is flushed, a gleam of sweat covering his torso, and he's pulling Cas's arm, having slid his hand through the opening of the sleeve, Dean pulling his own wrist back against the restriction, a glint in his eyes, and his other hand playing with his own nipple.
"Get yourself in me, Cas, sweetheart. I need you. I need you so much." Dean pushes back against Cas's fingers one more time, taking them in deep, before making moves to get off them, and Castiel knows it's only to make room for something more substantial.
Drizzling lube straight onto his cock, Cas slicks himself up and aligns himself with Dean's hole, the little pucker spasming when Cas touches the tip to it and starts to push in slowly.
Both the men pant through the intensity of it all, Cas enveloped in heat and tightness which makes him want to worship at Dean's altar every time he gets to experience this.
Dean holding his breath and taking huge gasps, keening, as Cas pushes his length in steadily, splitting Dean open, making room for himself inside Dean's body, and the feeling is so welcome it brings tears of love and happiness in his eyes.
As soon as Cas has bottomed out, and soon as he's able to breathe easier, adjusting, Dean makes a feigned attempt at Cas's tie, both the men grinning wildly at the implication, faces bright and giddy.
With Dean's legs over Cas's shoulders, Castiel shuffles closer on his knees, wiping his lubed hand on the sheets and wraps both his hands around Dean's thighs.
He begging pushing in as deep as he can go, thrusting in brutal, short strokes, putting as
much pressure on Dean's prostate as possible.
Dean lifts his upper back off the bed pillow, reaching his arms along the bed, hands clamping on Cas's ass and urging him on, head thrown back, throat bared, his
moans and garbled, grunted words coming unhindered as they're punched out of him relentlessly, making him feel like he's flying.
Sliding his hands down Dean's behind Dean's thighs, loving the slight coarseness of the hairs there, Castiel plantes his palms on Dean's ass so that he can spread his cheeks with his thumbs, making Dean thrash his head back and forth with "Cas, Cas, Cas ," as his rim is pulled more taut and Cas can sink an increment further inside.
Cas moves his right thumb to Dean's rim, brushing around it tenderly, all the while spreading Dean's cheeks wider with his palms, no longer thrusting but grinding his hips in an up and down motion, knowing full well what it does to Dean, Dean's gorgeous blush growing deeper, his breath coming in pants, eyes scrunched shut and his moans reduced to breathless, wordless whimpers.
Cas watches as his beloved unravels before his eyes so beautifully, the incredible feeling of Dean's balls drawing up ahead of his orgasm delectable felt against Cas's pelvis.
With the lube having leaked out of Dean with every thrust, Cas coats his thumb with it, and starts pushing it inside gingerly, keenly watching as Dean's jaw
drops slack and the whimpers turn into a flurry of enthusiastic "ah, ah, ah"s . The play of the muscles of Dean's abdomen, the flex of his thighs on Cas's shoulders
and the blunt fingertips digging into Cas's ass promise only good things, and then Cas's thumb is all the way in to the hinge, Cas having not stopped the grind against Dean's prostate for a moment.
"Dean," Cas is breathless, eyes wide, drinking in every second of this most intimate of moments. "You're so beautiful to me, for me," Cas groans, awed, pulling at Dean's rim slightly. "Let me make you come, beloved."
On command, Dean comes hotly, his back curving off the bed further the best it can, with a silent scream, his lungs locked up against the indescribable pleasure that seems to last eternally, his cock bouncing wildly while he shoots cum on his stomach and all up to his throat.
Castiel whimpers, the sight and feel of it all punching him straight to his core, bringing him on the edge instantly. Pulling out his thumb slowly, grabbing Dean by the hips and managing four hurried thrust before Cas pushes impossibly deeper, coming inside Dean, his cock twitching so hard it makes Dean moan and throw an arm over his eyes against the over sensitivity. Hugging Dean's thigh to himself, Castiel presses his temple against Dean's knee before turning his face to press kisses there, face beatific and Dean's name a prayer from his lips.
Dean opens his eyes and with a couple failed sit-ups, manages to grab Cas's ties, letting his legs slump down from Cas's shoulders and pulling the angel on top of him.
The slow, lazy kiss ends in soft peck and foreheads pressed together, their smiles matching each other's.
Never, as long as there's breath in him, and even after, would Dean give a soul, living or behind the veil, past, present or future, the power to come between him and his sunshine.
The ghost of John could go fuck an aardvark.