(no subject)
Title: Virgin Sacrifice
Author: captainswank
Pairing: Destiel, implied Wincest
Rating: NC-17
Summary: PWP! What happened in my mind somewhere in 5x03. Look at the great lengths Dean will go to be the best friend he can be. Impala sex. First SPN fic ever.
So the whole bordello sexcapade was a grade-A clusterfuck. Hilarious, maybe, and a bit thrilling. Even a little nostalgic. But Cas struck out in record time, and thanks to his crappily-timed bout of brutal honesty, the job was left unfinished.
And Dean doesn’t just walk away from an unfinished job.
“That was real smooth, dude.” Dean grins as they settle into leather seats of the Impala. “Just layin’ on the psychoanalysis, right out of the gate. What’s so hard about maybe a compliment or two, and then going to town? Did my instructions confuse you?”
“Dean. I told only the truth. I thought that such knowledge might bring the girl some peace.”
“Well, here’re some words of wisdom for you: when in doubt, whip it out.” Dean laughs and lets Cas puzzle that one out in silence for a few moments before he decides if he’s going to drop the bomb, it’s now or never.
“Cas, I made you a promise that I’d get your sorry ass laid. Now only shit friends break those kinds of promises. And never let it be said that Dean Winchester is a shit friend. So here’s what’s gonna happen,” Dean flashes an electric smile at Cas. “I volunteer myself for this little experiment.”
Cas looks a little like a wild animal, blind in Dean’s headlights. He scrabbles to get out of the way as Dean’s words barrel towards him at breakneck speed.
“Dean, I-I’m not sure that that would be appropriate.” The angel clears his throat.
“C’mon, Cas, it can’t be someone you don’t know, because look at how that turned out. So it has to be someone you do know, so tell me.” Dean turns in his seat to face Cas. “Who else do you know?” As he turns back to the road he catches the furrowing of Castiel’s brow out of the corner of his eye.
“Dean. I appreciate your enthusiasm for this time-honoured ritual of manhood, but I-”
“Come on, Cas! You might die tomorrow without ever getting your dick wet!” He lets out a sigh. “We’d just be fucking around, man.”
Cas shifts uncomfortably in his seat as Dean leans into his space. There’s a perceptible drop in Dean’s rough tone as he whispers, “I’m sure you’re at least a little curious.” Dean’s voice manages to scrape even lower. “Let me show you a good time.” He throws in a little waggle of his eyebrows.
Dean leans back in his seat and they drive in silence for a while. He hopes Cas can’t hear the jackhammer pounding of his heart from where he sits. He wants this; he wants to do this for Cas. Nobody deserves to die with their V-card still tucked safely in their metaphorical wallet, not even an uptight dick of an angel. It’s no skin off Dean’s back to give this to Cas. Hell, Dean’s all about giving. And maybe after tonight he’ll see a little reward for all that generosity. Maybe they’ll give him a freakin’ medal. At the very least he’s definitely in the running for Friend of the Year.
He’s lost in his own thoughts so he almost misses Cas’s tiny nod of assent, and before anyone can say anything to make this any more awkward than it already is, Dean pulls the Impala over to the side of the road, kills the engine, and turns to the angel.
“’S more room if we move to the back.” Dean’s surprised at how rough his voice is already, and even more surprised when he pulls open the door to see that Cas is already sitting back there, staring straight ahead, hands gripping the edge of the seat. Dean thinks about calling him out about how easy it would have been to just open the door and walk to the back, but why do that when he can get right down to business? So he leans to the side, draws down the zipper of Jimmy Novak’s pants, and pulls out Cas’s junk through the slit in his boxers.
Cas is rock hard and gasping after a few smooth strokes of his cock, and Dean thinks about how much he loves virgins and how good they are for his ego.
“Oh. Dean,” and Cas is groaning out his name. Dean wants to tell him that he ain’t seen nothing yet but he can’t because his mouth is stuffed full of angel dick.
Dean gets to work, wrapping his lips around the head and sucking noisily, pausing every so often to press his tongue around the head and over the slit. He figures he might as well show Cas what he’s got while he’s down there, so he takes the whole thing into his mouth, grasping onto Cas’s shivering thighs when his nose reaches the base. He waits there for a moment or two, pushing a little so the head of Cas’s cock rubs against the back of his throat. He listens to Cas moan out his pleasure before he can’t take it anymore and pulls off with a gasp. Without letting Cas recover, his mouth’s back on the head and his fist’s around the hard shaft, and he sort of loses himself in the whole thing, not caring about the tears in his eyes or the sweat on his temples.
But he’s gotta focus, gotta make sure it’s so good for Cas, make it so that he can’t forget his first time. That’s why he’s here, mouth full of angel. That’s the reason for the season. But when you get into that rhythm, fist pumping, head bobbing, lips sliding, it’s too easy to let your mind wander. Dean moans ‘cause it’s good, real good, but maybe he’s thinking of a cock that’s thicker, longer, one that pushes a little more forcefully down his throat.
Dean’s pretty sure it’s time for the main event, so he tells the angel to lose the pants and begins to strip himself. Before he ditches his worn jeans Dean reaches into his pocket and grabs the shit he brought in the off-chance that Cas’s hooker-activated de-virginizing went smoothly and Dean could snag a little action of his own. He grins to himself because look at him, a regular boy scout. Never hurts to be prepared.
Dean chucks a little packet at Cas’s forehead. “Alright, Cas. Lesson one in Professor Dean’s crash course in fudge packing. Use as much of this as possible, and for fuck’s sake start slow.” Cas looks completely bewildered as all this takes time to process. Dean takes pity on the angel’s wide-eyed look of confusion and possibly terror, and snatches the lube back with a grin. “Okay, lesson two’ll be more hands on. For now you can just sit back and take notes.” He shoves Cas back a little too rough and tears the packet with his teeth, coating his fingers in it. “First you gotta...” Dean reaches behind himself and presses inside little by little. “First thing is you gotta get ‘em ready, get ‘em nice and relaxed.” His finger’s in as far as it can go. “Gotta loosen up a bit.” Dean spares Cas the briefest of meaningful glances before throwing his head back with a groan, eyes on the ceiling. Cas nods a little nervously, and then his gaze is jarred back to the movement between Dean’s legs.
“Oh sweet merciful crap,” Dean whispers under his breath. “Yeah, that’s it...” Castiel can only watch silently, mouth open but perfectly and absolutely still as Dean finger fucks himself open. Outside the wind’s causing the trees to quake, but inside the Impala there’s only the sound of Dean’s knees squeaking against the leather upholstery, his low and steady cursing, and the wet squelch of two lubed fingers slowly sliding in and out of him. “Fuuuck,” Dean drags the word out along with his fingers. “All right, Cas, time to pop that angel cherry.”
Dean considers the condom he also brought with him, and after a moment’s hesitation decides he doesn’t doubt the angel’s cleanness. Instead he pours the remainder of the lube into his palm, and closes his hand around Castiel’s cock. Cas sucks in a sharp breath in the wet humidity of the car, and Dean’s hand slips up and down him, slow and wet.
Dean lays out his jacket to protect his baby as best he can, and manoeuvres himself in the confines of the back seat so that he’s on his elbows and knees, his forehead sort of pressed up against the foggy window and his ass up and presented to Castiel. “Show me what you got.”
Dean waits half a beat and then he can’t wait any longer for the angel to get his shit together, so he rests his weight on one forearm, and reaches back with the other, grasping Cas’s cock and pushing it snug against himself.
“I think you’re a big enough boy to take it from here yourseaargh-” Before Dean can get all his snark out Cas is inside. Dean tells him to push into him little by little, to get his body used to the stretch. The angel follows instructions pretty well, and it’s not too long until he’s balls deep in Dean. They moan quietly together when Cas’s hips are pressed tight up against the hunter in his care. “You can move now, Cas,” he promises. “You can move.”
Cas takes his orders in stride and takes his time pushing in and out of dean, long deep strokes that make Dean shake. Presumably he’s savouring Dean’s body’s tight grasp on him, and Dean thinks that’s great, but maybe Cas’ll give him a little bit more. Dean can take it a little rough, can take a little biting and scratching and big hands jerking his head back by his hair. So he tells Cas he wants it hard, that he can take it, and the angel rides and rides his ass ‘til he arches back tight, his throat raw from all the roughness streaming out of his mouth.
“Tell me,” Dean gasps out between thrusts. “Tell me how it feels, Cas.”
“Dean.” Cas manages. “Dean.” It’s all he can grind out.
“C’mon Cas, c’mon. You like that?” Dean clenches tight around the angel’s cock.
“Yes, Dean.” It’s a growl and it grinds up against Dean; like sandpaper it slowly wears him down. “You are warm inside, and tight. I can feel you-” And Castiel’s all out of words and Dean doesn’t mind, so for a while it’s just the filthy dirty slap of Cas’s skin against his own, and the moans they cannot keep from one another.
An unwelcome and half-formed thought sits patiently at the back of Dean’s fucked-out brain, that maybe the searing heat of the angel inside him can burn away the frigid ice in his guts that has had him twisted up for too long now. But he’s here for Cas, doing it for Cas, selflessly giving of himself, a sacrifice to a virgin and the best of good Samaritans. Not that what they’re doing could ever make him forget big hands and a bigger dick up inside him anyway. Yes, tonight is all for Cas.
“Cas, Cas, Cas,” and he’s breathing the angel. Inhaling the pure smell of Castiel along with Dean’s own dirty scent of sex, exhaling the name to the rhythm of each quick deep thrust. It’s so good to fill his lungs again, even if it feels restricted, as if there’s someone huge and heavy sitting on his chest.
With sweet little gasps he tells Cas he wants it harder. It’s a big fucking challenge to make Dean Winchester beg but he’s sure the strength of a pretty angel’s thrusts could definitely match those of a huge and mortal man. And for whatever Dean asks, his angel delivers.
So Castiel pounds his ass, and the angel is relentless. Dean loses track of time and of himself, and his mind and his insides turn to liquid as Cas gives it all to him, will try to give him everything he wants.
And then Cas’s hands are on him, gripping him tightly to the bone, and Dean’s thighs tremble as his head hangs down, pushed into his forearm. With his other hand he jacks himself quick, because very suddenly he’s got to get out of here and get done with this. Cas is thick and hard inside him, and fucking moans out of him so fast and deep that it’s good, so good, and then finally good enough when Dean finds himself imagining the the encouraging voice behind him singing his praises in a slightly different key.
He thinks blearily that he’s glad his jacket was there to catch the evidence of his climax, and can only let his body go loose and pliant as Castiel takes his pleasure. And the angel takes Dean and takes his time and Dean thinks again that he’s giving, always giving.
“C’mon, Cas, C’mon,” he whispers, soft sounds slipping from his lips with every thrust. “Give it to me, Cas, I want it.” Dean musters a little strength to push backwards, weakly. He’s totally gone, too tired and too fucked out to say anything more than whatever bullshit pops into his mind. “C’mon,” he says again, and it’s so gentle up against the ferocity of the way that Castiel screws into him. “Fill me up.” That gets a moan out of the angel.
“Dean. Dean, I-I am on an edge, I do not know- ” Castiel manages, questioningly.
Finally, Dean lets all the air out of his lungs, and tells Cas to let go. The angel’s growl falters, and he shudders and comes as deep into Dean as he can press.
And Dean wonders how he can feel so full when he’s empty, empty, empty, feeling like his soul and his heart have evacuated, have checked out, leaving him unfinished, imperfect, in pieces. ‘Cause the glue that’s kept him together’s gone, and the sticky wetness left between his legs when Cas slips out really isn’t doing too great a job as its replacement.
Oh well, he thinks. Worth a shot.
Cas tries to steady himself, to find something solid to cling to, and his shaking hand reaches out for Dean’s hair, his face. But before it can land Dean’s up and moving, grabbing his clothes and looking anywhere but at the blue of the angel’s eyes.
“So!” Dean grins with all the brightness he can muster, and works so hard for a seductive grin. “That’s what you’ve been missing all those years. Bet you wish you spent more time fucking and less time smiting, am I right?”
Cas’s whole face looks compressed, his lips pursed and forehead creased. He lowers his eyes to the seat below them because he’s given up on ever reaching Dean’s. And Dean stares ahead and there’s not a single inch of his face that betrays his panic.
“But it was good, right? You liked it.” Dean’s words were so quiet as to be almost inaudible.
“Yes, Dean. It was a feeling unlike that which I have ever known, but-”
“Of course it was,” Dean interrupts, so bright now, too bright. “In fact I almost feel bad for you, Cas. Good luck finding a better lay than me any time soon.” Cas is still and unsmiling. “But now you know the basics and now you can try! Go forth and seek new conquests, my man. Live long and prosper.”
There’s an uncomfortable pause and Dean’s surprised when it’s Cas who deigns to break it.
“Yes. Dean. I would like to know if you found the overall experience...” Cas’s eyes remain lowered. “...Acceptable.”
“Mm,” Dean hums, and he laughs low in his throat, tugging his jeans back up, awkward in the cramped space. “Gave it to me good, man. Definitely better than...” he screws his eyes shut for a moment, takes a deep breath. “...Definitely better than I’ve had it in years.” When he opens his eyes again, the angel has vanished.
***
Castiel sits alone on a park bench, quiet, eyes on the ground. He’s thinking of Dean, something he finds himself doing all too frequently of late. He’s thinking of how he tried and he failed to meet Dean’s green eyes in the cold damp night in the back of an old car. He’s thinking of the defeat in the bend of Dean’s body and the darkness living there and if he could just pour into Dean whatever’s left of his light, maybe Dean could be fixed.
Castiel knows sex can’t bring salvation, but he can be a part of this if it soothes even a fraction of the suffering of the Righteous Man.
Author: captainswank
Pairing: Destiel, implied Wincest
Rating: NC-17
Summary: PWP! What happened in my mind somewhere in 5x03. Look at the great lengths Dean will go to be the best friend he can be. Impala sex. First SPN fic ever.
So the whole bordello sexcapade was a grade-A clusterfuck. Hilarious, maybe, and a bit thrilling. Even a little nostalgic. But Cas struck out in record time, and thanks to his crappily-timed bout of brutal honesty, the job was left unfinished.
And Dean doesn’t just walk away from an unfinished job.
“That was real smooth, dude.” Dean grins as they settle into leather seats of the Impala. “Just layin’ on the psychoanalysis, right out of the gate. What’s so hard about maybe a compliment or two, and then going to town? Did my instructions confuse you?”
“Dean. I told only the truth. I thought that such knowledge might bring the girl some peace.”
“Well, here’re some words of wisdom for you: when in doubt, whip it out.” Dean laughs and lets Cas puzzle that one out in silence for a few moments before he decides if he’s going to drop the bomb, it’s now or never.
“Cas, I made you a promise that I’d get your sorry ass laid. Now only shit friends break those kinds of promises. And never let it be said that Dean Winchester is a shit friend. So here’s what’s gonna happen,” Dean flashes an electric smile at Cas. “I volunteer myself for this little experiment.”
Cas looks a little like a wild animal, blind in Dean’s headlights. He scrabbles to get out of the way as Dean’s words barrel towards him at breakneck speed.
“Dean, I-I’m not sure that that would be appropriate.” The angel clears his throat.
“C’mon, Cas, it can’t be someone you don’t know, because look at how that turned out. So it has to be someone you do know, so tell me.” Dean turns in his seat to face Cas. “Who else do you know?” As he turns back to the road he catches the furrowing of Castiel’s brow out of the corner of his eye.
“Dean. I appreciate your enthusiasm for this time-honoured ritual of manhood, but I-”
“Come on, Cas! You might die tomorrow without ever getting your dick wet!” He lets out a sigh. “We’d just be fucking around, man.”
Cas shifts uncomfortably in his seat as Dean leans into his space. There’s a perceptible drop in Dean’s rough tone as he whispers, “I’m sure you’re at least a little curious.” Dean’s voice manages to scrape even lower. “Let me show you a good time.” He throws in a little waggle of his eyebrows.
Dean leans back in his seat and they drive in silence for a while. He hopes Cas can’t hear the jackhammer pounding of his heart from where he sits. He wants this; he wants to do this for Cas. Nobody deserves to die with their V-card still tucked safely in their metaphorical wallet, not even an uptight dick of an angel. It’s no skin off Dean’s back to give this to Cas. Hell, Dean’s all about giving. And maybe after tonight he’ll see a little reward for all that generosity. Maybe they’ll give him a freakin’ medal. At the very least he’s definitely in the running for Friend of the Year.
He’s lost in his own thoughts so he almost misses Cas’s tiny nod of assent, and before anyone can say anything to make this any more awkward than it already is, Dean pulls the Impala over to the side of the road, kills the engine, and turns to the angel.
“’S more room if we move to the back.” Dean’s surprised at how rough his voice is already, and even more surprised when he pulls open the door to see that Cas is already sitting back there, staring straight ahead, hands gripping the edge of the seat. Dean thinks about calling him out about how easy it would have been to just open the door and walk to the back, but why do that when he can get right down to business? So he leans to the side, draws down the zipper of Jimmy Novak’s pants, and pulls out Cas’s junk through the slit in his boxers.
Cas is rock hard and gasping after a few smooth strokes of his cock, and Dean thinks about how much he loves virgins and how good they are for his ego.
“Oh. Dean,” and Cas is groaning out his name. Dean wants to tell him that he ain’t seen nothing yet but he can’t because his mouth is stuffed full of angel dick.
Dean gets to work, wrapping his lips around the head and sucking noisily, pausing every so often to press his tongue around the head and over the slit. He figures he might as well show Cas what he’s got while he’s down there, so he takes the whole thing into his mouth, grasping onto Cas’s shivering thighs when his nose reaches the base. He waits there for a moment or two, pushing a little so the head of Cas’s cock rubs against the back of his throat. He listens to Cas moan out his pleasure before he can’t take it anymore and pulls off with a gasp. Without letting Cas recover, his mouth’s back on the head and his fist’s around the hard shaft, and he sort of loses himself in the whole thing, not caring about the tears in his eyes or the sweat on his temples.
But he’s gotta focus, gotta make sure it’s so good for Cas, make it so that he can’t forget his first time. That’s why he’s here, mouth full of angel. That’s the reason for the season. But when you get into that rhythm, fist pumping, head bobbing, lips sliding, it’s too easy to let your mind wander. Dean moans ‘cause it’s good, real good, but maybe he’s thinking of a cock that’s thicker, longer, one that pushes a little more forcefully down his throat.
Dean’s pretty sure it’s time for the main event, so he tells the angel to lose the pants and begins to strip himself. Before he ditches his worn jeans Dean reaches into his pocket and grabs the shit he brought in the off-chance that Cas’s hooker-activated de-virginizing went smoothly and Dean could snag a little action of his own. He grins to himself because look at him, a regular boy scout. Never hurts to be prepared.
Dean chucks a little packet at Cas’s forehead. “Alright, Cas. Lesson one in Professor Dean’s crash course in fudge packing. Use as much of this as possible, and for fuck’s sake start slow.” Cas looks completely bewildered as all this takes time to process. Dean takes pity on the angel’s wide-eyed look of confusion and possibly terror, and snatches the lube back with a grin. “Okay, lesson two’ll be more hands on. For now you can just sit back and take notes.” He shoves Cas back a little too rough and tears the packet with his teeth, coating his fingers in it. “First you gotta...” Dean reaches behind himself and presses inside little by little. “First thing is you gotta get ‘em ready, get ‘em nice and relaxed.” His finger’s in as far as it can go. “Gotta loosen up a bit.” Dean spares Cas the briefest of meaningful glances before throwing his head back with a groan, eyes on the ceiling. Cas nods a little nervously, and then his gaze is jarred back to the movement between Dean’s legs.
“Oh sweet merciful crap,” Dean whispers under his breath. “Yeah, that’s it...” Castiel can only watch silently, mouth open but perfectly and absolutely still as Dean finger fucks himself open. Outside the wind’s causing the trees to quake, but inside the Impala there’s only the sound of Dean’s knees squeaking against the leather upholstery, his low and steady cursing, and the wet squelch of two lubed fingers slowly sliding in and out of him. “Fuuuck,” Dean drags the word out along with his fingers. “All right, Cas, time to pop that angel cherry.”
Dean considers the condom he also brought with him, and after a moment’s hesitation decides he doesn’t doubt the angel’s cleanness. Instead he pours the remainder of the lube into his palm, and closes his hand around Castiel’s cock. Cas sucks in a sharp breath in the wet humidity of the car, and Dean’s hand slips up and down him, slow and wet.
Dean lays out his jacket to protect his baby as best he can, and manoeuvres himself in the confines of the back seat so that he’s on his elbows and knees, his forehead sort of pressed up against the foggy window and his ass up and presented to Castiel. “Show me what you got.”
Dean waits half a beat and then he can’t wait any longer for the angel to get his shit together, so he rests his weight on one forearm, and reaches back with the other, grasping Cas’s cock and pushing it snug against himself.
“I think you’re a big enough boy to take it from here yourseaargh-” Before Dean can get all his snark out Cas is inside. Dean tells him to push into him little by little, to get his body used to the stretch. The angel follows instructions pretty well, and it’s not too long until he’s balls deep in Dean. They moan quietly together when Cas’s hips are pressed tight up against the hunter in his care. “You can move now, Cas,” he promises. “You can move.”
Cas takes his orders in stride and takes his time pushing in and out of dean, long deep strokes that make Dean shake. Presumably he’s savouring Dean’s body’s tight grasp on him, and Dean thinks that’s great, but maybe Cas’ll give him a little bit more. Dean can take it a little rough, can take a little biting and scratching and big hands jerking his head back by his hair. So he tells Cas he wants it hard, that he can take it, and the angel rides and rides his ass ‘til he arches back tight, his throat raw from all the roughness streaming out of his mouth.
“Tell me,” Dean gasps out between thrusts. “Tell me how it feels, Cas.”
“Dean.” Cas manages. “Dean.” It’s all he can grind out.
“C’mon Cas, c’mon. You like that?” Dean clenches tight around the angel’s cock.
“Yes, Dean.” It’s a growl and it grinds up against Dean; like sandpaper it slowly wears him down. “You are warm inside, and tight. I can feel you-” And Castiel’s all out of words and Dean doesn’t mind, so for a while it’s just the filthy dirty slap of Cas’s skin against his own, and the moans they cannot keep from one another.
An unwelcome and half-formed thought sits patiently at the back of Dean’s fucked-out brain, that maybe the searing heat of the angel inside him can burn away the frigid ice in his guts that has had him twisted up for too long now. But he’s here for Cas, doing it for Cas, selflessly giving of himself, a sacrifice to a virgin and the best of good Samaritans. Not that what they’re doing could ever make him forget big hands and a bigger dick up inside him anyway. Yes, tonight is all for Cas.
“Cas, Cas, Cas,” and he’s breathing the angel. Inhaling the pure smell of Castiel along with Dean’s own dirty scent of sex, exhaling the name to the rhythm of each quick deep thrust. It’s so good to fill his lungs again, even if it feels restricted, as if there’s someone huge and heavy sitting on his chest.
With sweet little gasps he tells Cas he wants it harder. It’s a big fucking challenge to make Dean Winchester beg but he’s sure the strength of a pretty angel’s thrusts could definitely match those of a huge and mortal man. And for whatever Dean asks, his angel delivers.
So Castiel pounds his ass, and the angel is relentless. Dean loses track of time and of himself, and his mind and his insides turn to liquid as Cas gives it all to him, will try to give him everything he wants.
And then Cas’s hands are on him, gripping him tightly to the bone, and Dean’s thighs tremble as his head hangs down, pushed into his forearm. With his other hand he jacks himself quick, because very suddenly he’s got to get out of here and get done with this. Cas is thick and hard inside him, and fucking moans out of him so fast and deep that it’s good, so good, and then finally good enough when Dean finds himself imagining the the encouraging voice behind him singing his praises in a slightly different key.
He thinks blearily that he’s glad his jacket was there to catch the evidence of his climax, and can only let his body go loose and pliant as Castiel takes his pleasure. And the angel takes Dean and takes his time and Dean thinks again that he’s giving, always giving.
“C’mon, Cas, C’mon,” he whispers, soft sounds slipping from his lips with every thrust. “Give it to me, Cas, I want it.” Dean musters a little strength to push backwards, weakly. He’s totally gone, too tired and too fucked out to say anything more than whatever bullshit pops into his mind. “C’mon,” he says again, and it’s so gentle up against the ferocity of the way that Castiel screws into him. “Fill me up.” That gets a moan out of the angel.
“Dean. Dean, I-I am on an edge, I do not know- ” Castiel manages, questioningly.
Finally, Dean lets all the air out of his lungs, and tells Cas to let go. The angel’s growl falters, and he shudders and comes as deep into Dean as he can press.
And Dean wonders how he can feel so full when he’s empty, empty, empty, feeling like his soul and his heart have evacuated, have checked out, leaving him unfinished, imperfect, in pieces. ‘Cause the glue that’s kept him together’s gone, and the sticky wetness left between his legs when Cas slips out really isn’t doing too great a job as its replacement.
Oh well, he thinks. Worth a shot.
Cas tries to steady himself, to find something solid to cling to, and his shaking hand reaches out for Dean’s hair, his face. But before it can land Dean’s up and moving, grabbing his clothes and looking anywhere but at the blue of the angel’s eyes.
“So!” Dean grins with all the brightness he can muster, and works so hard for a seductive grin. “That’s what you’ve been missing all those years. Bet you wish you spent more time fucking and less time smiting, am I right?”
Cas’s whole face looks compressed, his lips pursed and forehead creased. He lowers his eyes to the seat below them because he’s given up on ever reaching Dean’s. And Dean stares ahead and there’s not a single inch of his face that betrays his panic.
“But it was good, right? You liked it.” Dean’s words were so quiet as to be almost inaudible.
“Yes, Dean. It was a feeling unlike that which I have ever known, but-”
“Of course it was,” Dean interrupts, so bright now, too bright. “In fact I almost feel bad for you, Cas. Good luck finding a better lay than me any time soon.” Cas is still and unsmiling. “But now you know the basics and now you can try! Go forth and seek new conquests, my man. Live long and prosper.”
There’s an uncomfortable pause and Dean’s surprised when it’s Cas who deigns to break it.
“Yes. Dean. I would like to know if you found the overall experience...” Cas’s eyes remain lowered. “...Acceptable.”
“Mm,” Dean hums, and he laughs low in his throat, tugging his jeans back up, awkward in the cramped space. “Gave it to me good, man. Definitely better than...” he screws his eyes shut for a moment, takes a deep breath. “...Definitely better than I’ve had it in years.” When he opens his eyes again, the angel has vanished.
***
Castiel sits alone on a park bench, quiet, eyes on the ground. He’s thinking of Dean, something he finds himself doing all too frequently of late. He’s thinking of how he tried and he failed to meet Dean’s green eyes in the cold damp night in the back of an old car. He’s thinking of the defeat in the bend of Dean’s body and the darkness living there and if he could just pour into Dean whatever’s left of his light, maybe Dean could be fixed.
Castiel knows sex can’t bring salvation, but he can be a part of this if it soothes even a fraction of the suffering of the Righteous Man.