Never a Last Stand - Part Five: Safe Sex
Episode Number: 09x00 of Season 9 Fan Fiction (S9FF) [Interim Episode]
Title: Never a Last Stand
Subtitle: Safe Sex
Author dracox-serdriel
Acknowledgements: Thanks to ganeshalemming for help in slaying the typo demon.
Word Count: 1,252
Episode Spoilers: Written after 8x19 "Taxi Driver"
Rating: NC-17
Status: Complete. Feedback appreciated.
Back at the Bat Cave, Sam walked around, replacing all the light bulbs and making note of a half dozen spoiled electronics. "The coffee maker? Seriously guys? How did you manage this?"
There was no response.
"Dean?" Sam yelled, moving throughout the rooms. "What the hell?"
He pounded on Dean's door to no avail. As he popped the door open, a note fell on his head; apparently, it had been jammed in the door's crevice like a booby trap.
Dear Sam:
First, don't go in my damn room if the door is shut, even if I don't respond.
Second, I'm on vacation. Not fake, cut-short vacation, but actual vacation, all day. Do me a favor and don't call, even if that means you take the day off to make sure you don't have to.
--Dean
"Nice," Sam said to himself, crumpling up the note.
Rufus's Cabin had fewer electrical appliances than any motel or other hideaway the Winchesters used. It wasn't nearly as well kept, but it had all the essentials, and what's more, with Sam stashed at the Men of Letters Lair, it was completely isolated and unknown. That's how Dean chose the place for his 'day off' with Castiel.
Above all, it was his eyes - the steady, steel-blue fixtures - that kept Dean on track. Uncertainty, or embarrassment, would nip at his heels, but all he'd have to do is look into Castiel's eyes, and all that evaporated.
Kissing had long been a favorite pastime of Dean's, and he never felt a hitch in kissing the angel.
Admittedly, Dean never imagined locking lips with another man, touching him, groping him, moaning his name - but then again, he never thought he'd be in love, as in holy-shit-I'm-complete-with-you-fucking-soap-opera love, with an angel. And the lack of imagination, or perhaps a better word is 'forethought,' made the entire experience continuously surprising and blissfully thought-free... fluid, even slippery, as time went on.
In truth, an element of angelic being is a form of spiritual telepathy, similar to listening to a silent prayer, but on a physical level. Every time Castiel healed Dean, he felt every gyrating atom in a single touch. Sexual contact through his vessel amplified this particular phenomenon, like accelerating the spinning of a wheel, to the point of where it opened Dean up to the same experience of Castiel.
Vulcan mind-meld-like events aside, the sheer physical sensation alone could've slain its fair share of dragons, should anyone be willing to put it to the test.
It started with Castiel pulling Dean into his lap, holding his hunter as he placed his chin on his shoulder. For some reason this form of affection seemed more accessible to Cas than the standing-surprise-make-out-session that Dean seemed to prefer.
Dean felt his warm breath on the nape of his neck, hands freely roaming... he turned his head sharply so he and Cas were face to face, and he started to kiss gently.
Hands were suddenly everywhere. Articles of clothing disappeared, and somehow Dean pulled an alpha-male stunt that landed Cas flat on his back on the sofa with Dean on his left side, pinning his angel both down and back into the couch.
By the time they were both stripped to their boxers, red patches of skin and sweat covered them both. Dean slid his left arm under Cas's neck to the other side, so he could cradle his head and chin. This successfully distracted him from the craftily sneaking right hand that slithered down the happy trail and gracefully into his boxers.
Cas let out an audible gasp as Dean's rough hand locked around the base of his shaft. He moved to reciprocate, but Dean whispered, "One at a time." The look in his eyes made it clear that this wasn't a suggestion, so the angel dedicated one hand to the back of Dean's head and the other to his neck and chest.
Up and down, and up and down. Cas's gasps were punctuated by kiss after kiss -
He couldn't hold back anymore. Cas wiggled his hand far enough to dislodge Dean's boxers. He found a tremendous amount of satisfaction in the moan from Dean's lips.
Dean whispered, "Roll over."
As Cas felt his body being tipped so he faced the back of the couch, he put his arm out to stop it. "Dean - "
"Trust me," he whispered, nudging him around.
Somewhere there, between the couch cushions and their hands, they found a rhythm that shook out every muscle in their bodies. Normally Dean would nip, bite, lay his claim, so to speak, on his partner, raising hickeys, but this first time with Cas - and indeed, he thought of it as the first of many - he didn't. Maybe it was the sensory overload; maybe it was because he was afraid of another explosion... but whatever the reason, the biting and kissing all laid on gently.
Castiel hadn't had much experience when it came to sex, and certainly not when it came to the blissful, affectionate sex where he alternated freely as active and passive, letting Dean carry on when he felt overwhelmed. So when Dean slid his erection along the crevice of his ass, when he felt the warm lube sliding into him, it actually shocked him when he felt his stomach drop and his heart speed up in anticipation. Dean used his free hand to angle Cas's hips before he started pushing himself in.
And indeed, additional explosions followed. Luckily, there were only three lamps in the cabin to explode. "Dean, I - "
"Cas," he responded, sliding his hand along his partner's shaft, building up pressure and slowly adding speed.
Unable to control the slow, methodical thrusting, Cas moved his hands in front of him to give him purchase along the back of the couch. As he did this, Dean tenderly wrapped his trapped arm, his left arm, under and around Cas's neck in a rear choke to hold him in position. This was especially important because the sofa was only so wide, and it barely fit the two men spoon-stacked on their sides... the last thing Dean needed was to be bucked off sideways.
The rolling moans shook the cabin - literally, in the case of Castiel's climax, since no electronics were around to explode, his energies apparently shook some of the stone of the foundation. Splitting wood swirled into the sounds of pure pleasure emanating from Dean; at that particular moment, neither cared much that they may have literally brought down the cabin around them, or at least splintered it. It wasn't until a beam cast down next to them that they even really noticed.
Instinctively, Dean pressed Cas's body into the back of the sofa, protecting him from any debris. Post-coitus lethargy set in on him, but apparently angels were immune. He rolled Dean to his other side, making him the little spoon. "Next time it'll be your turn," the angel said gently to his drowsy hunter.
"We might need to build a safe-sex room, Cas," Dean said as he drifted around post-coital bliss. "That we can't blow up, I mean..."
Castiel smiled at the indication of 'we,' and replied, "I understand."
As Dean fell asleep, Cas pondered the requirements of a 'safe-sex' room... it wasn't until a half hour later that he realized Dean had fallen asleep naked in the middle of wrecked cabin that could fall on their heads, with only his angel there to protect him. Something about that seared into Castiel's mind and blood forever.
Previous | Next Episode: 09x01 Summertime Blues
Title: Never a Last Stand
Subtitle: Safe Sex
Author dracox-serdriel
Acknowledgements: Thanks to ganeshalemming for help in slaying the typo demon.
Word Count: 1,252
Episode Spoilers: Written after 8x19 "Taxi Driver"
Rating: NC-17
Status: Complete. Feedback appreciated.
Back at the Bat Cave, Sam walked around, replacing all the light bulbs and making note of a half dozen spoiled electronics. "The coffee maker? Seriously guys? How did you manage this?"
There was no response.
"Dean?" Sam yelled, moving throughout the rooms. "What the hell?"
He pounded on Dean's door to no avail. As he popped the door open, a note fell on his head; apparently, it had been jammed in the door's crevice like a booby trap.
Dear Sam:
First, don't go in my damn room if the door is shut, even if I don't respond.
Second, I'm on vacation. Not fake, cut-short vacation, but actual vacation, all day. Do me a favor and don't call, even if that means you take the day off to make sure you don't have to.
--Dean
"Nice," Sam said to himself, crumpling up the note.
Rufus's Cabin had fewer electrical appliances than any motel or other hideaway the Winchesters used. It wasn't nearly as well kept, but it had all the essentials, and what's more, with Sam stashed at the Men of Letters Lair, it was completely isolated and unknown. That's how Dean chose the place for his 'day off' with Castiel.
Above all, it was his eyes - the steady, steel-blue fixtures - that kept Dean on track. Uncertainty, or embarrassment, would nip at his heels, but all he'd have to do is look into Castiel's eyes, and all that evaporated.
Kissing had long been a favorite pastime of Dean's, and he never felt a hitch in kissing the angel.
Admittedly, Dean never imagined locking lips with another man, touching him, groping him, moaning his name - but then again, he never thought he'd be in love, as in holy-shit-I'm-complete-with-you-fucking-soap-opera love, with an angel. And the lack of imagination, or perhaps a better word is 'forethought,' made the entire experience continuously surprising and blissfully thought-free... fluid, even slippery, as time went on.
In truth, an element of angelic being is a form of spiritual telepathy, similar to listening to a silent prayer, but on a physical level. Every time Castiel healed Dean, he felt every gyrating atom in a single touch. Sexual contact through his vessel amplified this particular phenomenon, like accelerating the spinning of a wheel, to the point of where it opened Dean up to the same experience of Castiel.
Vulcan mind-meld-like events aside, the sheer physical sensation alone could've slain its fair share of dragons, should anyone be willing to put it to the test.
It started with Castiel pulling Dean into his lap, holding his hunter as he placed his chin on his shoulder. For some reason this form of affection seemed more accessible to Cas than the standing-surprise-make-out-session that Dean seemed to prefer.
Dean felt his warm breath on the nape of his neck, hands freely roaming... he turned his head sharply so he and Cas were face to face, and he started to kiss gently.
Hands were suddenly everywhere. Articles of clothing disappeared, and somehow Dean pulled an alpha-male stunt that landed Cas flat on his back on the sofa with Dean on his left side, pinning his angel both down and back into the couch.
By the time they were both stripped to their boxers, red patches of skin and sweat covered them both. Dean slid his left arm under Cas's neck to the other side, so he could cradle his head and chin. This successfully distracted him from the craftily sneaking right hand that slithered down the happy trail and gracefully into his boxers.
Cas let out an audible gasp as Dean's rough hand locked around the base of his shaft. He moved to reciprocate, but Dean whispered, "One at a time." The look in his eyes made it clear that this wasn't a suggestion, so the angel dedicated one hand to the back of Dean's head and the other to his neck and chest.
Up and down, and up and down. Cas's gasps were punctuated by kiss after kiss -
He couldn't hold back anymore. Cas wiggled his hand far enough to dislodge Dean's boxers. He found a tremendous amount of satisfaction in the moan from Dean's lips.
Dean whispered, "Roll over."
As Cas felt his body being tipped so he faced the back of the couch, he put his arm out to stop it. "Dean - "
"Trust me," he whispered, nudging him around.
Somewhere there, between the couch cushions and their hands, they found a rhythm that shook out every muscle in their bodies. Normally Dean would nip, bite, lay his claim, so to speak, on his partner, raising hickeys, but this first time with Cas - and indeed, he thought of it as the first of many - he didn't. Maybe it was the sensory overload; maybe it was because he was afraid of another explosion... but whatever the reason, the biting and kissing all laid on gently.
Castiel hadn't had much experience when it came to sex, and certainly not when it came to the blissful, affectionate sex where he alternated freely as active and passive, letting Dean carry on when he felt overwhelmed. So when Dean slid his erection along the crevice of his ass, when he felt the warm lube sliding into him, it actually shocked him when he felt his stomach drop and his heart speed up in anticipation. Dean used his free hand to angle Cas's hips before he started pushing himself in.
And indeed, additional explosions followed. Luckily, there were only three lamps in the cabin to explode. "Dean, I - "
"Cas," he responded, sliding his hand along his partner's shaft, building up pressure and slowly adding speed.
Unable to control the slow, methodical thrusting, Cas moved his hands in front of him to give him purchase along the back of the couch. As he did this, Dean tenderly wrapped his trapped arm, his left arm, under and around Cas's neck in a rear choke to hold him in position. This was especially important because the sofa was only so wide, and it barely fit the two men spoon-stacked on their sides... the last thing Dean needed was to be bucked off sideways.
The rolling moans shook the cabin - literally, in the case of Castiel's climax, since no electronics were around to explode, his energies apparently shook some of the stone of the foundation. Splitting wood swirled into the sounds of pure pleasure emanating from Dean; at that particular moment, neither cared much that they may have literally brought down the cabin around them, or at least splintered it. It wasn't until a beam cast down next to them that they even really noticed.
Instinctively, Dean pressed Cas's body into the back of the sofa, protecting him from any debris. Post-coitus lethargy set in on him, but apparently angels were immune. He rolled Dean to his other side, making him the little spoon. "Next time it'll be your turn," the angel said gently to his drowsy hunter.
"We might need to build a safe-sex room, Cas," Dean said as he drifted around post-coital bliss. "That we can't blow up, I mean..."
Castiel smiled at the indication of 'we,' and replied, "I understand."
As Dean fell asleep, Cas pondered the requirements of a 'safe-sex' room... it wasn't until a half hour later that he realized Dean had fallen asleep naked in the middle of wrecked cabin that could fall on their heads, with only his angel there to protect him. Something about that seared into Castiel's mind and blood forever.
Previous | Next Episode: 09x01 Summertime Blues