[FIC] To Give and To Take (NC-17) for Savageseraph
Gift type: Fanfic
Title: To Give and To Take
Recipient: savageseraph
Author: juwel_fic
Rating: very NC-17
Warnings: rough sex, biting, minor domination/submission, elements of dub con
Spoilers: Spoilers for Season 4, none for Season 5
Word Count: 2870 words
Summary: After Alastair breaks Dean, Castiel knows he needs to fix him. He gives what he can: himself.
Author notes: I used the prompt: Dean and Castiel after the events of 4x16 On the Head of a Pin, once Dean is out of the hospital.
****
I should have said something. Done something.
That was the overriding thought residing in Castiel's mind as he waited for his orders from on High, waited to either be promoted to Uriel's position, or for Uriel's replacement to be assigned. Amongst the Heavenly Host, time had little meaning, but on Earth, a few days had passed since the incident, since Alastair had almost killed Dean. Since Anna had killed Uriel. Dean had been released from the hospital, and he and his brother were back at Bobby's house, resting, recovering. At least, he was physically recovering.
Castiel wasn't sure if Dean's soul would ever be fully recovered.
It was his fault, Castiel knew. The fact he had not seen it earlier, Uriel's true allegiance, his treacherous actions. How long? Had he been working to free Lucifer even when the garrison had laid siege to Hell, when Castiel had fought so hard to save Dean before he gave in? Had it delayed things, long enough to actually allow that first fall, that first Seal to break when Dean took up Alastair’s knife and began carving?
As he had told Dean, Dean mustn't blame himself. Castiel had then had no clue how right he had been about that.
I never should have allowed Alastair and him to be alone together. I never should have asked for Dean to return to torture. I felt it was wrong. I knew it was wrong.
But he had obeyed as he always obeyed. He had trusted in his brother, and been betrayed. And now his charge, the one the others had said he liked too much, that he'd grown too close to, that would purportedly stop the Apocalypse, was broken.
He owed it to Dean to fix him.
"Cas!" Dean's voice sounded loud in the night, from the guest bedroom at Bobby's house. Dean was there, alone; Cas could sense him, as he always sensed him, pacing the room dressed in a pair of jeans and an old faded t-shirt. He could also tell that Dean was angry. "Get down here, you son of a bitch."
It was just a short flight, a flap or two of his wings, wind in his face, and Castiel was there, standing before Dean in his vessel's human form. "Dean," he said softly. He could have added that there were no female dogs in his ancestry, but he wisely decided to keep silent. He could feel the weight of Dean's fury in his gaze.
"Well," Dean began, taking a few steps towards Castiel, circling him a little, not unlike the way he had approached Alastair, Castiel thought with a shiver. But Castiel wasn’t afraid; far from it. There was a powerful attraction between them; there always had been. Sometimes it was like a static charge between them, humming in his veins. Today, however, in the physical human body, that attraction was physical. Dean stopped right in front of Castiel, glaring at him, his hands fisted at his sides. He was practically vibrating. "You got what you wanted. I told you that you wouldn't like what walked out of that door." Castiel inwardly flinched at the pain behind those words, the sense of betrayal.
"I'm sorry, Dean--" he began, but Dean didn't give him a chance to finish.
Castiel felt Dean shove against him, understood that Dean needed this, needed to take out his anger and his pain on the angel. He allowed himself to be pushed back, felt the solid impact of the wall as Dean pinned him up against it, fingers gripping Castiel's shoulder tight, almost shaking him. "React!" Dean growled, their faces so close together that Castiel could feel Dean's breath on his cheek. And he was reacting, but perhaps Dean wasn't aware--he was allowing himself to sink deeply into the human body, deep enough to feel the pain Dean wanted to give him. Deep enough to feel himself growing achingly hard. It probably wasn’t the reaction Dean wanted, but Castiel could not help himself; Dean did this to him, every time he got close. Castiel gasped as Dean pressed up even closer, and his eyes widened slightly as he felt a similar bulge brush against his.
The shock must have shown on his face. Dean gave a harsh laugh. "Thought you couldn't feel anything, you angels. Thought you might be just a Ken doll down there." He ground his hips against Castiel's and Castiel groaned. The pleasure racing through him was unlike anything he had felt before.
"I assure you . . . I am not," Castiel hissed in a low whisper.
Dean continued to glare at him, not letting up on the pressure, his fingers digging in tighter and tighter until Castiel was sure there would be bruises, even if they would soon fade. He waited for what must surely come next, for Dean to kiss him, perhaps roughly with teeth. He longed for it.
But the kiss didn't come.
"I can't do this," Dean said miserably, releasing Castiel and turning away. Castiel heard himself make a noise, one of disappointment, frustration. Oh Dean, he thought. Always too strong to cry. And too noble to do harm. What Dean apparently did not comprehend was that he wanted this too. Needed it.
Castiel took a step forward, holding his hands out to Dean, imploring him. "Dean. It's all right." He stopped when Dean whirled, the anger flaring in his eyes telling him that things most certainly were not all right. In the face of that anger, Castiel did what seemed right to him; he dropped to his knees, showing subservience, humility. He'd show Dean, one way or another.
"I know you're angry," Castiel said as Dean stared at him, hands fisted at his sides again, clenching and unclenching. Castiel could feel, could see how much Dean wanted to come to him, do . . . things. Castiel slowly took off his trench coat, letting it fall off his shoulders. "You have every right to be angry." Using his powers, Castiel loosened his tie, let it fall away from him. He opened the buttons of his shirt, one by one, as he left his hands resting at his sides, passive, accepting. He saw Dean lick his lips. "You won't harm me." His shirt fell away, and he could feel Dean's gaze raking over him, devouring him.
Castiel let his shoes slide off, opened the fly of his trousers with his powers. Dean was vibrating again, but with a different energy this time. Castiel knew--this was how Dean dealt with pain: through sex. He'd watched it over and over again. "Take," he said in a low voice. Dean's hands twitched; a muscle in his jaw spasmed. "Take what is freely offered," Castiel said.
Dean was panting a little, standing a few feet in front of Castiel, and it looked like he was dying to take that step forward, to grab hold of the angel and ravish him. But still he stood there, hesitating, though it looked like it was killing him. There was such need on his face that Castiel felt a hot thrill go through him.
So he still needed persuasion, Castiel decided. Slowly, he dropped to his hands and knees, keeping his gaze steady on Dean's face, knowing he probably looked more like a predator preparing to lunge than prey to be taken. Castiel couldn't help it. He wanted this. Had wanted it for a while, even though he had tried to blame it on other factors--Jimmy's body, Dean's sexual drive. Anything but the truth. But the time for blame or excuses was over. He knew this would help. Knew that Dean wanted it as much as he did.
Castiel reached out an arm slowly, dropping a shoulder, crawling like an animal stalking. Dean swallowed nervously but stood still, letting Castiel approach him, legs pressed against the bed as if frozen there. Castiel pulled his own trousers the rest of the way down with his mind, leaving them behind, coming to kneel again before Dean fully naked now, lean and muscled, and anything but modest.
"Cas," Dean said in a voice gone strangely hoarse, bringing up a hand to almost touch the angel, holding it a hand’s breadth over him. "You don't need--" Dean continued, but Castiel didn't let him finish, reaching out to unsnap Dean's jeans, working the zipper down carefully over the hard ridge of his erection. Dean groaned softly, as Castiel worked Dean's cock out of his pants, marveling at the look of his sexual organ, the feel of it.
"Cas . . ." Dean groaned, louder this time, as Castiel took Dean's cock into his mouth, sucking on it. He'd watched it done countless times, countless ways. It couldn't be that difficult to do. Licking around the head, down the shaft, over Dean's balls, Castiel explored him with his mouth, paying special attention to Dean's reactions, the way his breath hitched, or the slight movements of his hips, guiding Cas to the best areas. Castiel played with it a little, running his lips over the veins standing out on the shaft, and was gratified by Dean's groan. He was purposefully teasing Dean, driving him insane. Dean's hand finally found its way to his hair, tugging gently at first, then fisting a handful of hair as Castiel took Dean deep, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. Dean yanked at his hair, forcing Cas off of his cock, forcing him to raise his head to look at Dean.
Dean's eyes looked almost black with desire instead of green, holding barely bridled passion. "Get on the bed," Dean growled, and pulled Castiel up only to bend him over, making him rise to his feet even as his cheek was pressed to the mattress. Dean let go, then grabbed Castiel's arm, folding it behind him and pinning him down painfully. Castiel groaned, both with pain, and something else--longing. Yes. This was exactly what they both needed. Dean kicked at the insides of Castiel's legs, forcing them apart wider, and Cas could hear the scrape of fabric as Dean shoved his jeans down lower.
"You offered--fine," Dean hissed at Castiel's ear, pressing up against him, letting Castiel feel Dean's cock brushing against his inner thigh. Castiel trembled, aching, rejoicing in the power Dean was finally embracing. His own cock was trapped against the bed spread, painfully. It felt wonderful.
"You want to give me something?" Dean continued in a voice thick with rage and loss, as he spread Castiel's cheeks apart and pressed the head of his cock against his hole. "Give me back my innocence. Give me back my little brother, the way he was. Give me back my dad." He shoved in, deep and hard, and Castiel could not help but cry out.
"I wish it were possible," Castiel said quickly before Dean's next thrust, whimpering as Dean continued to pin him down. "But . . . I cannot." Another hard thrust, and Castiel swore he could see stars. It felt amazing. He hissed as Dean bit into his shoulder, the pain only adding to sensation, driving him higher. "I can only offer myself," he managed to finish, as Dean paused, licking the bruise he had made as if it tasted of ambrosia.
"Do you really want this?" Dean breathed at the back of Castiel's neck. It sent shivers down his spine, all the way to his cock. Castiel groaned.
"Yes. Please.” Castiel pushed back with his hips, forcing Dean in deeper, emphasizing his words. Dean chuckled in his ear.
Dean pulled almost all the way out, then slammed in deep again, drawing another cry from Castiel. "You like this," Dean whispered, almost gleefully. Sinister and wicked.
Castiel nodded, and was rewarded when Dean began to thrust in hard over and over, fucking him roughly, not letting go of the arm still holding him pinned down. There were no more words for a while after that, only the slap of flesh against flesh, as Dean fucked him, each thrust sending delicious shivers of pleasure through Castiel's body.
So this is what it is like, Castiel found himself thinking, feeling the head of Dean's cock scrape over some spot inside him that seemed to build the pleasure higher and higher, making his balls tighten up, his own cock grow harder and harder. He didn't dare touch himself, as he'd seen so many men do, because this was Dean's show, and he would not do anything without Dean's permission, or strict order. When Dean finally did push a hand under him to take hold of his cock, however, Castiel could not help himself. He gave a harsh cry, and began coming, shuddering as it took hold of his body, pumping his dick into that tight circle of Dean's fist, shamelessly rutting even as Dean pounded into him over and over. Dean snarled and bit into Castiel's other shoulder, and it was almost like a second climax; Castiel cried out again, and whimpered as Dean continued to stroke his cock, extra sensitive now with the orgasm.
At about that moment, Castiel heard Dean groan through his teeth, pumping furiously and there was the sensation of something warm and wet sliding down the backs of his thighs as Dean came, never letting up on his bite.
Finally Dean let Castiel go, at least with his teeth, and loosened up his hold of Castiel's arm. He did not let go of Castiel's cock, however, hand still wrapped around it as he shuddered through the aftershocks, leaning heavily against the angel, breathing hard. Castiel shivered, still feeling a few shockwaves of his own. He desperately hoped that it had worked, that Dean felt at least a little better. Hoped that Dean had at least forgiven himself, if not Castiel.
Castiel felt another shudder go through Dean which sounded suspiciously like a sob, but it wasn't repeated, so he could not be certain. Dean's arms moved so that he was holding on tight to Castiel, with his face pressed against Castiel's shoulder, with a pleasant tingle of pain where he was rubbing against one of the bite marks. They stayed that way for several minutes. Finally, Dean released Castiel, slipping out of him. Castiel sighed regretfully at the loss of contact.
"Say something," Dean said in a gruff voice. "Say you're okay."
"I'm fine, Dean," Castiel said, immediately turning over so that he could look at Dean and so that Dean in turn could look at him. At one time an act such as this might have made him feel degraded, debased in some way. But instead, he only felt more certain that he'd done the right thing. He smiled, a small smile, but the real joy was in his eyes. Castiel would never, ever be sorry for experiencing this, with Dean.
"Good," Dean said, a little less gruffly this time, more introspective. His gaze flicked over to the pile of Castiel's clothing. "If you're gonna go, then go. Otherwise I'm going to get some sleep." And to emphasize that, he pulled down the sheets, watching Castiel.
"I'm . . . going to stay. For a while," Castiel said quietly, and he wasn't sure if it was Dean's need he was sensing, or his own.
"Cean off, then, and get under the covers. Don't need Sam walking in and seeing your naked angel ass." Dean was all business now, and Castiel thought he understood why. They did need to continue a working relationship, for there was still a job to do, the Apocalypse to avoid. There wasn't time for another kind of relationship. Even if there was, Castiel had a feeling Dean would avoid any entanglements of the heart. Nothing would be acknowledged that could lead to a loss later.
Castiel made quick work of cleaning himself off, leaving the bite marks alone for now--he could enjoy them for a night at least, and deal with them tomorrow. That done, he returned to the bed and climbed in next to Dean, who lay curled up on his side, facing away from the angel. Castiel lied down on his back, staring at the ceiling, uncertain what to do next.
"If you're going to lie there, you could at least get a little closer. On your side. Like me," Dean said sharply, as if he were having second thoughts about this. Castiel did as he asked, settling in just inches from Dean. "Closer," Dean growled. Castiel pressed closer, until his body was flush with Dean's, spooning him. Dean reached back to grab Castiel's arm and brought it around to hold him. Dean sighed. "That's better."
This was . . . nice. Castiel found himself thinking, feeling the warmth still emanating from Dean's skin, enjoying the way Dean's ass brushed against his groin. "I don't sleep," he reminded Dean, just in case he had forgotten.
"Then don't move, so I can," was Dean's terse reply.
Relaxing, Castiel let himself settle into a meditative state, where he would not disturb Dean and yet could still enjoy the experience of holding him. He held Dean like that until he felt the change in Dean's breathing.
As Dean slept, Castiel watched over him.
--the end--
Title: To Give and To Take
Recipient: savageseraph
Author: juwel_fic
Rating: very NC-17
Warnings: rough sex, biting, minor domination/submission, elements of dub con
Spoilers: Spoilers for Season 4, none for Season 5
Word Count: 2870 words
Summary: After Alastair breaks Dean, Castiel knows he needs to fix him. He gives what he can: himself.
Author notes: I used the prompt: Dean and Castiel after the events of 4x16 On the Head of a Pin, once Dean is out of the hospital.
****
I should have said something. Done something.
That was the overriding thought residing in Castiel's mind as he waited for his orders from on High, waited to either be promoted to Uriel's position, or for Uriel's replacement to be assigned. Amongst the Heavenly Host, time had little meaning, but on Earth, a few days had passed since the incident, since Alastair had almost killed Dean. Since Anna had killed Uriel. Dean had been released from the hospital, and he and his brother were back at Bobby's house, resting, recovering. At least, he was physically recovering.
Castiel wasn't sure if Dean's soul would ever be fully recovered.
It was his fault, Castiel knew. The fact he had not seen it earlier, Uriel's true allegiance, his treacherous actions. How long? Had he been working to free Lucifer even when the garrison had laid siege to Hell, when Castiel had fought so hard to save Dean before he gave in? Had it delayed things, long enough to actually allow that first fall, that first Seal to break when Dean took up Alastair’s knife and began carving?
As he had told Dean, Dean mustn't blame himself. Castiel had then had no clue how right he had been about that.
I never should have allowed Alastair and him to be alone together. I never should have asked for Dean to return to torture. I felt it was wrong. I knew it was wrong.
But he had obeyed as he always obeyed. He had trusted in his brother, and been betrayed. And now his charge, the one the others had said he liked too much, that he'd grown too close to, that would purportedly stop the Apocalypse, was broken.
He owed it to Dean to fix him.
"Cas!" Dean's voice sounded loud in the night, from the guest bedroom at Bobby's house. Dean was there, alone; Cas could sense him, as he always sensed him, pacing the room dressed in a pair of jeans and an old faded t-shirt. He could also tell that Dean was angry. "Get down here, you son of a bitch."
It was just a short flight, a flap or two of his wings, wind in his face, and Castiel was there, standing before Dean in his vessel's human form. "Dean," he said softly. He could have added that there were no female dogs in his ancestry, but he wisely decided to keep silent. He could feel the weight of Dean's fury in his gaze.
"Well," Dean began, taking a few steps towards Castiel, circling him a little, not unlike the way he had approached Alastair, Castiel thought with a shiver. But Castiel wasn’t afraid; far from it. There was a powerful attraction between them; there always had been. Sometimes it was like a static charge between them, humming in his veins. Today, however, in the physical human body, that attraction was physical. Dean stopped right in front of Castiel, glaring at him, his hands fisted at his sides. He was practically vibrating. "You got what you wanted. I told you that you wouldn't like what walked out of that door." Castiel inwardly flinched at the pain behind those words, the sense of betrayal.
"I'm sorry, Dean--" he began, but Dean didn't give him a chance to finish.
Castiel felt Dean shove against him, understood that Dean needed this, needed to take out his anger and his pain on the angel. He allowed himself to be pushed back, felt the solid impact of the wall as Dean pinned him up against it, fingers gripping Castiel's shoulder tight, almost shaking him. "React!" Dean growled, their faces so close together that Castiel could feel Dean's breath on his cheek. And he was reacting, but perhaps Dean wasn't aware--he was allowing himself to sink deeply into the human body, deep enough to feel the pain Dean wanted to give him. Deep enough to feel himself growing achingly hard. It probably wasn’t the reaction Dean wanted, but Castiel could not help himself; Dean did this to him, every time he got close. Castiel gasped as Dean pressed up even closer, and his eyes widened slightly as he felt a similar bulge brush against his.
The shock must have shown on his face. Dean gave a harsh laugh. "Thought you couldn't feel anything, you angels. Thought you might be just a Ken doll down there." He ground his hips against Castiel's and Castiel groaned. The pleasure racing through him was unlike anything he had felt before.
"I assure you . . . I am not," Castiel hissed in a low whisper.
Dean continued to glare at him, not letting up on the pressure, his fingers digging in tighter and tighter until Castiel was sure there would be bruises, even if they would soon fade. He waited for what must surely come next, for Dean to kiss him, perhaps roughly with teeth. He longed for it.
But the kiss didn't come.
"I can't do this," Dean said miserably, releasing Castiel and turning away. Castiel heard himself make a noise, one of disappointment, frustration. Oh Dean, he thought. Always too strong to cry. And too noble to do harm. What Dean apparently did not comprehend was that he wanted this too. Needed it.
Castiel took a step forward, holding his hands out to Dean, imploring him. "Dean. It's all right." He stopped when Dean whirled, the anger flaring in his eyes telling him that things most certainly were not all right. In the face of that anger, Castiel did what seemed right to him; he dropped to his knees, showing subservience, humility. He'd show Dean, one way or another.
"I know you're angry," Castiel said as Dean stared at him, hands fisted at his sides again, clenching and unclenching. Castiel could feel, could see how much Dean wanted to come to him, do . . . things. Castiel slowly took off his trench coat, letting it fall off his shoulders. "You have every right to be angry." Using his powers, Castiel loosened his tie, let it fall away from him. He opened the buttons of his shirt, one by one, as he left his hands resting at his sides, passive, accepting. He saw Dean lick his lips. "You won't harm me." His shirt fell away, and he could feel Dean's gaze raking over him, devouring him.
Castiel let his shoes slide off, opened the fly of his trousers with his powers. Dean was vibrating again, but with a different energy this time. Castiel knew--this was how Dean dealt with pain: through sex. He'd watched it over and over again. "Take," he said in a low voice. Dean's hands twitched; a muscle in his jaw spasmed. "Take what is freely offered," Castiel said.
Dean was panting a little, standing a few feet in front of Castiel, and it looked like he was dying to take that step forward, to grab hold of the angel and ravish him. But still he stood there, hesitating, though it looked like it was killing him. There was such need on his face that Castiel felt a hot thrill go through him.
So he still needed persuasion, Castiel decided. Slowly, he dropped to his hands and knees, keeping his gaze steady on Dean's face, knowing he probably looked more like a predator preparing to lunge than prey to be taken. Castiel couldn't help it. He wanted this. Had wanted it for a while, even though he had tried to blame it on other factors--Jimmy's body, Dean's sexual drive. Anything but the truth. But the time for blame or excuses was over. He knew this would help. Knew that Dean wanted it as much as he did.
Castiel reached out an arm slowly, dropping a shoulder, crawling like an animal stalking. Dean swallowed nervously but stood still, letting Castiel approach him, legs pressed against the bed as if frozen there. Castiel pulled his own trousers the rest of the way down with his mind, leaving them behind, coming to kneel again before Dean fully naked now, lean and muscled, and anything but modest.
"Cas," Dean said in a voice gone strangely hoarse, bringing up a hand to almost touch the angel, holding it a hand’s breadth over him. "You don't need--" Dean continued, but Castiel didn't let him finish, reaching out to unsnap Dean's jeans, working the zipper down carefully over the hard ridge of his erection. Dean groaned softly, as Castiel worked Dean's cock out of his pants, marveling at the look of his sexual organ, the feel of it.
"Cas . . ." Dean groaned, louder this time, as Castiel took Dean's cock into his mouth, sucking on it. He'd watched it done countless times, countless ways. It couldn't be that difficult to do. Licking around the head, down the shaft, over Dean's balls, Castiel explored him with his mouth, paying special attention to Dean's reactions, the way his breath hitched, or the slight movements of his hips, guiding Cas to the best areas. Castiel played with it a little, running his lips over the veins standing out on the shaft, and was gratified by Dean's groan. He was purposefully teasing Dean, driving him insane. Dean's hand finally found its way to his hair, tugging gently at first, then fisting a handful of hair as Castiel took Dean deep, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. Dean yanked at his hair, forcing Cas off of his cock, forcing him to raise his head to look at Dean.
Dean's eyes looked almost black with desire instead of green, holding barely bridled passion. "Get on the bed," Dean growled, and pulled Castiel up only to bend him over, making him rise to his feet even as his cheek was pressed to the mattress. Dean let go, then grabbed Castiel's arm, folding it behind him and pinning him down painfully. Castiel groaned, both with pain, and something else--longing. Yes. This was exactly what they both needed. Dean kicked at the insides of Castiel's legs, forcing them apart wider, and Cas could hear the scrape of fabric as Dean shoved his jeans down lower.
"You offered--fine," Dean hissed at Castiel's ear, pressing up against him, letting Castiel feel Dean's cock brushing against his inner thigh. Castiel trembled, aching, rejoicing in the power Dean was finally embracing. His own cock was trapped against the bed spread, painfully. It felt wonderful.
"You want to give me something?" Dean continued in a voice thick with rage and loss, as he spread Castiel's cheeks apart and pressed the head of his cock against his hole. "Give me back my innocence. Give me back my little brother, the way he was. Give me back my dad." He shoved in, deep and hard, and Castiel could not help but cry out.
"I wish it were possible," Castiel said quickly before Dean's next thrust, whimpering as Dean continued to pin him down. "But . . . I cannot." Another hard thrust, and Castiel swore he could see stars. It felt amazing. He hissed as Dean bit into his shoulder, the pain only adding to sensation, driving him higher. "I can only offer myself," he managed to finish, as Dean paused, licking the bruise he had made as if it tasted of ambrosia.
"Do you really want this?" Dean breathed at the back of Castiel's neck. It sent shivers down his spine, all the way to his cock. Castiel groaned.
"Yes. Please.” Castiel pushed back with his hips, forcing Dean in deeper, emphasizing his words. Dean chuckled in his ear.
Dean pulled almost all the way out, then slammed in deep again, drawing another cry from Castiel. "You like this," Dean whispered, almost gleefully. Sinister and wicked.
Castiel nodded, and was rewarded when Dean began to thrust in hard over and over, fucking him roughly, not letting go of the arm still holding him pinned down. There were no more words for a while after that, only the slap of flesh against flesh, as Dean fucked him, each thrust sending delicious shivers of pleasure through Castiel's body.
So this is what it is like, Castiel found himself thinking, feeling the head of Dean's cock scrape over some spot inside him that seemed to build the pleasure higher and higher, making his balls tighten up, his own cock grow harder and harder. He didn't dare touch himself, as he'd seen so many men do, because this was Dean's show, and he would not do anything without Dean's permission, or strict order. When Dean finally did push a hand under him to take hold of his cock, however, Castiel could not help himself. He gave a harsh cry, and began coming, shuddering as it took hold of his body, pumping his dick into that tight circle of Dean's fist, shamelessly rutting even as Dean pounded into him over and over. Dean snarled and bit into Castiel's other shoulder, and it was almost like a second climax; Castiel cried out again, and whimpered as Dean continued to stroke his cock, extra sensitive now with the orgasm.
At about that moment, Castiel heard Dean groan through his teeth, pumping furiously and there was the sensation of something warm and wet sliding down the backs of his thighs as Dean came, never letting up on his bite.
Finally Dean let Castiel go, at least with his teeth, and loosened up his hold of Castiel's arm. He did not let go of Castiel's cock, however, hand still wrapped around it as he shuddered through the aftershocks, leaning heavily against the angel, breathing hard. Castiel shivered, still feeling a few shockwaves of his own. He desperately hoped that it had worked, that Dean felt at least a little better. Hoped that Dean had at least forgiven himself, if not Castiel.
Castiel felt another shudder go through Dean which sounded suspiciously like a sob, but it wasn't repeated, so he could not be certain. Dean's arms moved so that he was holding on tight to Castiel, with his face pressed against Castiel's shoulder, with a pleasant tingle of pain where he was rubbing against one of the bite marks. They stayed that way for several minutes. Finally, Dean released Castiel, slipping out of him. Castiel sighed regretfully at the loss of contact.
"Say something," Dean said in a gruff voice. "Say you're okay."
"I'm fine, Dean," Castiel said, immediately turning over so that he could look at Dean and so that Dean in turn could look at him. At one time an act such as this might have made him feel degraded, debased in some way. But instead, he only felt more certain that he'd done the right thing. He smiled, a small smile, but the real joy was in his eyes. Castiel would never, ever be sorry for experiencing this, with Dean.
"Good," Dean said, a little less gruffly this time, more introspective. His gaze flicked over to the pile of Castiel's clothing. "If you're gonna go, then go. Otherwise I'm going to get some sleep." And to emphasize that, he pulled down the sheets, watching Castiel.
"I'm . . . going to stay. For a while," Castiel said quietly, and he wasn't sure if it was Dean's need he was sensing, or his own.
"Cean off, then, and get under the covers. Don't need Sam walking in and seeing your naked angel ass." Dean was all business now, and Castiel thought he understood why. They did need to continue a working relationship, for there was still a job to do, the Apocalypse to avoid. There wasn't time for another kind of relationship. Even if there was, Castiel had a feeling Dean would avoid any entanglements of the heart. Nothing would be acknowledged that could lead to a loss later.
Castiel made quick work of cleaning himself off, leaving the bite marks alone for now--he could enjoy them for a night at least, and deal with them tomorrow. That done, he returned to the bed and climbed in next to Dean, who lay curled up on his side, facing away from the angel. Castiel lied down on his back, staring at the ceiling, uncertain what to do next.
"If you're going to lie there, you could at least get a little closer. On your side. Like me," Dean said sharply, as if he were having second thoughts about this. Castiel did as he asked, settling in just inches from Dean. "Closer," Dean growled. Castiel pressed closer, until his body was flush with Dean's, spooning him. Dean reached back to grab Castiel's arm and brought it around to hold him. Dean sighed. "That's better."
This was . . . nice. Castiel found himself thinking, feeling the warmth still emanating from Dean's skin, enjoying the way Dean's ass brushed against his groin. "I don't sleep," he reminded Dean, just in case he had forgotten.
"Then don't move, so I can," was Dean's terse reply.
Relaxing, Castiel let himself settle into a meditative state, where he would not disturb Dean and yet could still enjoy the experience of holding him. He held Dean like that until he felt the change in Dean's breathing.
As Dean slept, Castiel watched over him.
--the end--