[FIC]: The Weight of the World is on Your Side [Dean/Castiel, Adult)
[The Weight of the World is on Your Side]
SPN. Dean/Castiel. NC-17. ~3,200 words. PWP. Vague S5. Title from Holly Miranda. For C, who wanted me to attempt something porny ;)
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Measure time in miles, measure days by the victories won and the people saved. Dean's gotten use to doing both, gotten use to living for the road, living for the hunt. Living to save his baby brother, living to save the whole damn world.
Dean's tired, exhausted, drained. So damn tired of carrying the weight of the entire fucking world on his shoulders, tired of knowing what his failures have caused, what his failures could still cause. Dean sucks in a deep breath, turns onto his side, and plumps up his pillow before sinking his head back down. They're spending the night in a bed-and-breakfast in Augusta, a homey little place with an ivy-covered wrap-around porch and flimsy white curtains that billow with the warm spring breeze. Dean's been in bed for a couple of hours, but sleep hasn't come easy. Nothing comes easy these days.
When Dean was a kid he learned that salt lines and holy water were things that kept the dark at bay. Years later, Dean found that the soft-hard smoothness of bodies colliding was something else that kept the dark from settling too far inside his head. These days it's harder. There's not much that exists other than the fighting and the dying, a new loss behind every corner: Ellen and Jo gone, and Bobby without his legs. Sam fighting his inner demons, and Dean running out of reasons to keep it all together. To keep his dying, make-shift family together when the rest of the universe seems to have other plans.
Tired; he's so damn tired. Dean rubs his hand across his face, turns onto his back, his legs tangling in the sweat-damp sheets. He turns to eye the red glowing numbers of the alarm clock, thinks about how the last couple of hours have passed in slow-motion.
Dean hears the creak of floorboards moments before the bedroom door itself creeps open. He doesn't reach for his gun, intuitively knows he doesn't need it. He simply smiles a little as he turns to see Cas standing and staring, his lean body framed by the soft light spilling from the hallway bathroom.
Neither of them says a word as Cas closes the door with a soft click and walks into the room. Dean waits for the exact moment Cas's shadow falls over him before clearing his throat and saying, "Hey."
Cas looks down at him, eyes slitted, full of moon. Says, "Hello."
"You've been gone a while," Dean comments, his words filling with the tension now sparking through his body.
Cas runs his fingertips along Dean's cheek, arches a brow and asks, "Have you been waiting for me?"
"Maybe," Dean smirks, sighing a little as Cas strokes his fingers over his temple, trailing down the curve of his jawline. Soft, contemplative touches. Cas-style touches.
"How long have you been waiting?" Cas asks, looking at Dean intently, his hand pausing to frame Dean's face.
"Too damn long," Deans confesses on a soft exhale, a low heat settling in his belly, pooling in his groin. Truth is, he's been waiting all day to lose himself in Castiel.
Cas looks at him, gaze softening, and for a moment Dean thinks about how Cas is the only good thing to come out of the darkness tonight. The only good thing to come out of any of this fucked-up end of the world angels and demons bullshit. The only good thing Dean's touched in a long damn time.
Maybe that's why Dean runs his hand over Cas's arms, draws him nearer. Cas tilts his head, gazes down at Dean, smiles a little before sinking lower, closing the distance with a kiss. Castiel's mouth is open, hot, electric. Dean kisses him slowly, carefully, rolling their tongues together. A few seconds pass, and Dean's lost in it, remembering the complex sensation of kissing Castiel, of teaching him how to do this and more. Days and nights spent learning his body, his taste, his touch. Learning to fuck Cas's mouth in this slow-burn rhythm.
Hours of need building up, and Dean's just so hungry for the taste of Cas, for this urgent press of their bodies. "Cas. I want," Dean starts, his voice splintering, shaking as he pulls out of the kiss. Cas's mouth is hot as it trails up Dean's neck, over his jaw, and finally back to Dean's lips.
"Fuck." Dean grabs Castiel's hair, pulls his head back forcefully, bites at his throat, teeth sinking in. Cas bucks in his arms, and Dean pushes his hands beneath Cas's shirt, tugging it out of his pants, kneading his fingers into Cas's flexing muscles, feeling all this warm skin over bone.
"Dean." Cas's eyes flash, glaze over. In an instant, he's pulling up and away. Dean wants to whine at the loss of contact, but he's too busy watching Cas tower over him, shirt untucked and belt unbuckled, his pants slipping down his slender hips. Dean can make out the shape of his cock tenting through his dark briefs, and as Dean watches, Cas slowly slides one hand down into his briefs and pulls himself out. His cock bobs up, swelling thick and heavy, curved and dusky-dark against his belly. There are pearls of precome on the head, and Dean wants to taste, to touch.
"Cas," Dean says, his breathing turning shallow as Cas begins to stroke himself, all the while still looking at Dean, directly at him, eyes wide open and shadow-dark. Dean soon gets with the program. He arches his hips forward and shoves his own boxers down, kicking them to the floor. Naked now, he takes his own cock in his hand, working himself with a few slow, lazy strokes before matching Castiel's own maddening rhythm. Dean watches Cas as the angel watches him, and the two of them fuck their own fists like they got nothing better in the world to do.
When Cas pauses in his movements, he looks down at Dean, all heat and pent-up intensity. Dean slows to a stop, hand resting on his rock-hard dick, and just looks back, waiting for Cas to make the first move. And just like that, Cas proceeds to fall out of the rest of his clothes.
"Come here," Dean breathes, reaching up to grab Cas by the thighs and pull him down. Cas allows himself to be manhandled back onto the bed, his warm naked body sliding against Dean's own. They both shiver as they make that first skin-to-skin contact, rolling together to the center of the mattress.
They wrestle for a moment, until Cas lands on top, pinning Dean to the bed. Dean laughs, closes his eyes and loses himself to the feel of Cas's body draping over him, covering him. It's too damn much; it's not nearly enough. Cas's hands are touching him everywhere, and he's whispering Dean, Dean, Dean while his pulsing cock rubs against Dean's belly. Dean rolls them again, and Cas bucks his hips as his lips kiss down the line of Dean's throat; his breath, moist and hot, is so damn welcome against Dean's sensitive skin. Dean hisses when Cas mouths over the protection tattoo near his heart, teeth dragging across the dark pattern. Cas then covers Dean with soft kisses and bites, leaves his own marks of protection across Dean's body.
Dean closes his eyes, slides his legs around Cas's hips as the angel leans forward and nestles his cock between Dean's thighs, fucking the crease with slow deliberation. Their lips meet, tongues darting to lick inside each other's mouths; the warm slide of Cas's tongue against his own sets Dean's nerves on fire.
Dean lets his own hands wander over Cas's body, fingers sinking into the warm skin and straining muscles of his back. Cas's cock drags hot and wet over Dean's own, moving in soft, rhythmic thrusts that almost have Dean losing it. "Cas, please," Dean whispers against his lips, his head spinning and body aching, wanting; always wanting.
All Dean can think about is Cas in this moment, needing him, reconnecting with him. Cas, who fucked his own fist while Dean watched. Cas, who will make Dean scream and blush and break in a million ways tonight before disappearing at the first brush of morning light. "Want you so much," Dean says, his breathing ratcheting up and his throat tightening. The way Cas is looking at him, touching him right now is enough to make him come. Fuck.
Cas puffs a hot, choked breath against Dean's skin as he slides against him, letting their cocks slip alongside each other, their bodies grind together. "I'm here," Cas murmurs, voice deep and arousal-rough. "I want to feel you inside me, Dean. Deep inside me," he continues, more growl than actual words.
Castiel's breath is warm against Dean's skin, but Dean is shivering at the confession. "Cas, oh fuck," Dean groans, thrusting against him. "I wanna. Yeah. Let me fuck you."
"I've been thinking about it all day," Cas moans as he twists his body around so that he's straddling Dean's thighs.
Dean sucks in a breath and that's when Cas's thumb falls against Dean's lips, swipes from side to side. "Open your mouth, Dean," he orders on a soft rumble.
Dean obeys, parting his lips just as Cas pushes two fingers inside his mouth. Dean's eyes close and he sucks eagerly, working his tongue around Cas's fingers, licking softly, tasting and savoring the salty tang of his skin before Cas pulls his hand away.
Dean's breathing hitches as Cas sits back, thighs spreading wide as he runs his spit-slick fingers around his hole before slipping them deep inside his own ass. Dean watches, wide-eyed and jealous, his own dick throbbing with the need to be buried inside Cas right the fuck now.
Cas's cock leaks as he thrusts his fingers further inside himself, his slim hips riding his own hand. "Yeah, Cas," Dean moans as Cas spreads himself wider, those long fingers disappearing into his body over and over again. "Fuck yourself for me."
Cas's eyes fall shut, and he whispers "Dean" as he begins to do just that. He braces one hand behind him on the bed and works his other hand inside himself. Dean watches, hypnotized, as Cas slowly moves his fingers in and out, his hips tilting forward, back arching gracefully. He's all lean muscles and sharp lines, and Dean needs to get lost in him.
"I want you to ride me," Dean says, voice cracked open, beaten raw. "Fuck yourself on my cock, Cas."
Cas moans, low and throaty, his body shaking with the same tension coiling through Dean's own. Cas slides his fingers free from his body and straddles Dean's lap again, grinding them together. Heat flares in Dean's body, and he's breathing hard as he reaches down between them and circles the tip of his wet cockhead around Cas's hole before lining them up. As Dean pushes in, catching his swollen head against Cas's rim, they moan in tandem. Slow, so very slow, Cas eases himself down onto him, and Dean feels like he's losing his goddamned mind as he presses inside.
"Castiel," Dean growls, his hands settling firmly around Cas's hips as he guides him down and down, nice and slow. The fit is tight, so damn good; perfect. There's so much heat and pressure, and Oh, God, Dean's been waiting for this all day - Cas so full of him, his body closing around him. Dean's sinking, drowning, feeling that slow-steady rock into oblivion. Cas gasps, soft and open, head tilting back as he sinks lower and lower, taking Dean fully inside himself.
"God, Cas, fuck," Dean moans, his own breathing gone raspy. Cas's skin is damp with sweat but Dean holds on tight to his hips, thrusting up inside Cas so hard and so fast he's spinning apart.
"Dean!" Cas shouts, a fierce, dark heat flashing in his eyes. Cas doesn't try to hold himself in check when they do this; he just lets go, lets Dean see everything he's feeling, feel everything he's feeling, pushes them both to the edge because neither of them can keep this all inside. And Dean wants more, needs more, can't get enough of Cas when he's like this.
Dean grips his thighs and thrusts up into Cas again, this time slow and deep and deliberate. He loves the mangled sounds Cas makes, his whisper-soft mewls, his heavy, erratic breathing. When Dean begins to rock his hips, Cas rides his dick like he was made for this. "Harder," Cas yells, pushing his body down and bracing one hand against the bedroom wall as he moves with Dean.
Dean's thrusts quicken, and Cas responds by taking Dean hard and fast, head tipping back again, mouth parting wet and wide. Dean tightens his hold, clamping down on the muscles of Cas's thighs as he buries himself inside of Cas as far as he can.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Dean knows he's babbling now, all coherency lost to him. Dean can't think, can't speak as he watches his cock make that heavy slide in and out of Cas's ass with every push-pull of their hips. He's mesmerized by the flush blossoming along Cas's chest, throat, and cheeks. The sweat beading along his moon-pale skin. Cas's eyes are closed, and his teeth are biting down so hard on his bottom lip Dean is sure Cas is breaking skin.
"Feel me?" Dean asks, needing to hear Cas's voice again, needing to hear his own voice.
"I feel you," Cas says hoarsely, pulling all the way out, his entire body shuddering, arms and legs trembling with tension as he raises himself up. Then Cas is lowering himself down, slow and torturous, and Dean's pushing forward, arching up as his cock slides back into Cas's tight heat.
This is what heaven should be like, Dean thinks. When Cas's body closes back down around him, Dean shuts his eyes, tries to center himself. He lets the pressure and heat building inside of him wind throughout his entire body. Cas is wrapped so tight and perfect around his dick, moving in a slow slide up and down, and it's so damn good. They're making such a beautiful rhythm together. Sometimes Dean thinks if they fuck long enough, fuck hard enough, maybe they can get inside each other. Dean wonders if maybe he can bury himself so far inside Cas, wonders if maybe he can belong there. Make a home for himself there.
Maybe that's why Dean can't deny this thing between them, undefinable as it is crazy. There's nothing else like this feeling he has when he's losing himself inside of this angel, inside the fierce pull of his body. When they fuck, it centers him. Grounds him. Truth is, some days Dean thinks Cas is probably falling apart. But Dean's so far down he doesn't think he can save either of them. They're both falling apart, but God, help them, maybe they're falling together.
"You like riding me?" Dean breathes, pounding into Cas, so fast, so wet, so unrelenting.
"The things you do to me," Cas grits out, his body closing down around Dean like a vice. "The things you make me want to do to you."
"Yeah," Dean whispers, voice wrecked.
"I can't get enough," Cas confesses, voice rough and ragged. "Two thousand years without this, and now I can't get enough of you."
"What can I say, angels love me," Dean grunts, breathless, circling his hips to angle just right, to make Cas whine and arch and moan.
"None more than I," Cas breathes out, like he’s been holding it in. His breath hitches as he sinks lower, sits himself on top of Dean's hips.
"Fuck, Cas," Dean grunts. "You can't say shit like that." It feels like Dean's spinning, losing it. There's so much heat surrounding him, but his skin is too thin to hold it in. He's breaking in two, burning up. Dean looks up to catch Castiel's heated gaze, and they stare at each other for a long, crazy moment.
"Tell me who you belong to," Dean whispers, needing to know.
"I'm yours, Dean," Cas says, his voice a low hum. "You know I'm yours."
"Mine," Dean takes a harsh, ragged breath, rolling his hips, thrusting up on the word. "Fuck, tell me again, Cas. Please, let me hear you."
"Monons isi io iad," Cas breathes, and Dean understands him. Understands the words for heart-mine-forever, words Cas has kissed into Dean’s skin, time and time again.
Cas begins to strip his own cock, groaning every time he pushes in and out of his fist, sucking in noisy breath after breath, hips jerking as he gets himself off. When Dean slams his hips up again, Cas's body tightens around him. His cheeks flush and his eyes go fever-bright, and tremors visibly rack through his lean frame.
Dean thrusts up one more time and Cas groans, comes completely undone, his milky release splattering across Dean's belly. For a brief minute Dean swears he can see the shadow of wings spreading across the room as Cas shakes apart above him. But the only thing Dean can process in this moment is the way Cas's body is clenching down hard around his dick; it's so fucking perfect Dean could die.
Dean's own hips stagger, body bursting with heat and such unbelievable pleasure. He shoots hot and thick, cock pulsing deep inside of Cas. Dean's eyes lock with Castiel's own as he comes, and for a long moment they simply watch each other fall apart, lost in this incredible sensation.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Dean whispers, dazed, when they finally pull apart. He watches his own spunk drip from Cas's tender hole, and he feels the power of their fucking move through the room like a wildfire. Cas collapses at Dean's side, breathing against his neck, shattered, moist pants that cause Dean's blood to race, mixing with that soul-deep pleasure already working its way through his body.
"How are you?" Cas asks after a moment, mouth pressing warmly against Dean's neck. The room is full of the ripe smell of their come, so heady and overwhelming. So much of them.
"Fantastic," Dean grins, thinking about how he feels so light, weightless, like something heavy has been taken off his shoulders. There's a nice, mellow ache in his muscles, and Dean sighs, content, loving the way Cas's arm instinctively wraps around his waist.
"Good," Cas says, his voice soft and husky-deep as his flushed body presses along Dean's side. Cas strokes over Dean's skin, fingers brushing against the faint spread of freckles on his collarbone before he leans in and presses his mouth there. Dean pulls him closer, manages to work the tangled bed sheets around the both of them.
"Sleep, Dean," Cas breathes against his neck. Dean closes his eyes to the touch of Cas's fingers running through his hair.
For the first time in days, he does just that: he sleeps.
-fin-