Fic: MMOM #7: I Want To Be True, Like the Solid Earth (Dean/Castiel)
Title: I Want To Be True, Like the Solid Earth
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, The New Testament of Angels - The Book of Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Dean, and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 1250
Notes: This story follows from Fall in the Light and is part of the new testament of angels, The Book of Castiel thingy (though it’s not needed to understand this).
A forgiven fallen angel and a semi-retired hunter talk masturbation fantasy and mythology.
(Title from a Jason Molina song, because he has a line to Dean's heart, I swear.)
(Could these notes be any more pretentious??)
The motel is so beige and lifeless, they prefer to spend the afternoons indoors with the curtains drawn. A hunter on post-Apocalyptic hiatus and a fallen angel, newly human, on the bed, and no one else even knows where they are. So wrapped up in the dull crème colored sheets that both bodies are inseparable.
“If you miss me that much, you know there are things to do. Phone calls, for example…” Dean’s not really annoyed, but it’s easier to be sarcastic than to admit that a blow job just kicked his ass. Castiel was definitely learning.
And he was anxious. “I used to see you whenever I wanted to. I just had to wonder, and there you were.”
Dean looks at Castiel’s stricken expression, and doesn’t sigh. “If you’re gonna live with humans, you’ll need to come up with some decent boundaries. Or a plan. I can’t be at your beck and call.”
Cas doesn’t answer.
Half the time, Dean feels annoyed when the angel is silent; the other half, he feels compassion.
“Hey, here,” and Dean places his hand over Castiel’s, resting on his chest. Then he moves their hands lower, encircles Castiel’s neglected sex, tightens his grip. “Just think of something to keep you company. Use your imagination.”
Cas doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look down, just stares at Dean’s face whether he’s meeting his gaze or not.
“What do you think about when you’re like this? What do you want, right now?” He’s moving their hands slower than he would like, probably slower than Castiel would like. For a while, he doesn’t even realize that Cas is still silent.
“Hey, Cas…” but the angel doesn’t stop staring.
He slowly cups his free hand around Dean’s knee, his hip, his shoulder, his face. “Why would I need an imagination?”
Now Dean doesn’t answer; in every place he touches, Dean feels his hand there like an imprint, his moist palm rough and soft at the same time. He stops himself from moving his hand faster on Castiel’s, just squeezes once. “You know, sexy stuff. What turns you on, when I’m not around.”
Dean can hear his breath catch, and start again. The other man is such a mystery. Such a mystery. It strikes him dumb sometimes, but it’s a peaceful silence. A rare one. Most of the time it makes him push even harder.
“How about…” but Dean can’t finish. Busty Asian beauties and cheerleader twins sound like cartoons compared to the newfound intensity in Castiel’s eyes. He is doing this, Dean is. That look is for him.
“I used to see so much. I saw your soul, Dean.” He moans with the memory and the movement of Dean’s hand over his own.
Dean takes a second to process the fact that Castiel is turned on by his very soul. Like it is something wondrous to him, like that is possible. Then he moves his hand away. “Think of it now.” Dean speaks into Castiel’s ear and hovers over his left side, close enough to kiss.
Dean watches Castiel shut his eyes closed and start moving his hand faster. Dean watches, wondering what the angel sees.
Then Dean does kiss, knowing he’s distracting, just pressing his lips to Castiel’s and pulling back again, pressing and pulling, using his tongue just a little to tease when Cas moans.
“What do you see?” Dean whispers it in his ear, and manages to stop kissing him long enough to let him speak.
“Everything!”
The way Cas shouts it, in a half-moan, almost scares Dean. He sits back on his heels and just watches as Cas starts to lose it, more quickly all the time. “Everything?”
“The answer!” is all Cas breathes out.
Dean can’t even respond before Castiel is groping for him, pulling him closer without even opening his eyes. He figures Cas would be losing his mind except he’s so intense, he has to be serious.
He’s downright breathless when he speaks. “The answer, between Heaven and Earth.”
Dean’s never heard him try to speak so much when he’s trying to get off, and he wonders if it always makes Cas so seriously grandiose. He wants to bring him back down to earth. He’s tired of meaning. He wants Castiel.
Moreso, he doesn’t want to see if Castiel can get off just from the image of his soul. He’s tempted to turn him over and get as far as he can inside of him until Castiel can’t think of anything else, or imagine anything at all. He wants to replace whatever delusions Cas has with the slap of their thighs, their sweat.
As if reading his thoughts, Castiel digs his fingertips into Dean’s shoulder, and comes with a silent shout, his hand moving away the second his sex jumps in his fingers.
Then, Dean has to squeeze himself just to calm down. But Castiel is so damn earnest, Dean goes from wanting to fuck his brains out to wanting to pat him on the head in the space of a minute. He waits for Castiel to return to earth.
*
“What are we doing here, Cas?” Dean asks it to the ceiling, his limbs draped all over Castiel lazily.
Cas just smiles. “I was waiting for you to ask me that.”
Dean just rolls his eyes. “So?”
“Dean,” his smile broadens, “we’re remaking the world.”
Dean’s hand freezes in his hair. “Come on, Cas, not that god-talk again.” Ok, so something about seeing the other man totally undone by the thought of his soul really does freak him out. It’s too easy to take it out on Castiel, so he doesn’t.
“It’s not him. It’s not about him. It’s us. Our bodies, my memory, your soul.”
“Your soul now, too, you know. You have one too.”
And Castiel’s face freezes, like this had never occurred to him before. Though Dean knows he has. “I do…”
“YES. And imagination, and conscience, and free will - all those things. You know - human.” It’s hard not to talk to him as if he’s a child. An ancient child. “HUMAN. So stop trying to make us sound like some mythological bullshit.”
Cas as he runs a hand over his face, like wiping off his expression. “Fine, no myths.”
Dean ignores it. “Yeah, no myths. Men in myths fall to the earth when they lose their feathers - and they die. Or the gods punish them. Or some raptor comes by and eats their liver. And in my life, everything is too fucking literal. No thanks.”
Cas raises his hands off the bed in mock surrender. “Ok, Dean.”
Dean knows he never means it, but he won’t argue anymore. He just wishes Cas would stop trying to give their situation more meaning. Like they hadn’t done enough already. After a long while, he speaks. “I just don’t want someone coming along and asking more from us. We’ve given enough, Cas. I’m tired. Stop using me to try to make sense of the world. There’s no sense to be had, believe me.”
Cas is silent for a long time. “Dean. Ours is a story to make sense of the world. How else do you explain this?” He leans over Dean’s body, encompassing both. “I have to tell it. It’s our gift to the angels, for letting me go. Besides, I do want to know. How can I not ask questions? What else can I do?”
Then Dean does sigh. “Nothing. Just…” Only he never answers. Just shrugs and curls against Castiel’s side.
*
“Cas?”
“Yes?”
“Call me if you need me, alright?”
“I always do, Dean. You just have to listen for me.”
And Dean knows he is right. And he will.
The End
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, The New Testament of Angels - The Book of Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Dean, and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 1250
Notes: This story follows from Fall in the Light and is part of the new testament of angels, The Book of Castiel thingy (though it’s not needed to understand this).
A forgiven fallen angel and a semi-retired hunter talk masturbation fantasy and mythology.
(Title from a Jason Molina song, because he has a line to Dean's heart, I swear.)
(Could these notes be any more pretentious??)
The motel is so beige and lifeless, they prefer to spend the afternoons indoors with the curtains drawn. A hunter on post-Apocalyptic hiatus and a fallen angel, newly human, on the bed, and no one else even knows where they are. So wrapped up in the dull crème colored sheets that both bodies are inseparable.
“If you miss me that much, you know there are things to do. Phone calls, for example…” Dean’s not really annoyed, but it’s easier to be sarcastic than to admit that a blow job just kicked his ass. Castiel was definitely learning.
And he was anxious. “I used to see you whenever I wanted to. I just had to wonder, and there you were.”
Dean looks at Castiel’s stricken expression, and doesn’t sigh. “If you’re gonna live with humans, you’ll need to come up with some decent boundaries. Or a plan. I can’t be at your beck and call.”
Cas doesn’t answer.
Half the time, Dean feels annoyed when the angel is silent; the other half, he feels compassion.
“Hey, here,” and Dean places his hand over Castiel’s, resting on his chest. Then he moves their hands lower, encircles Castiel’s neglected sex, tightens his grip. “Just think of something to keep you company. Use your imagination.”
Cas doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look down, just stares at Dean’s face whether he’s meeting his gaze or not.
“What do you think about when you’re like this? What do you want, right now?” He’s moving their hands slower than he would like, probably slower than Castiel would like. For a while, he doesn’t even realize that Cas is still silent.
“Hey, Cas…” but the angel doesn’t stop staring.
He slowly cups his free hand around Dean’s knee, his hip, his shoulder, his face. “Why would I need an imagination?”
Now Dean doesn’t answer; in every place he touches, Dean feels his hand there like an imprint, his moist palm rough and soft at the same time. He stops himself from moving his hand faster on Castiel’s, just squeezes once. “You know, sexy stuff. What turns you on, when I’m not around.”
Dean can hear his breath catch, and start again. The other man is such a mystery. Such a mystery. It strikes him dumb sometimes, but it’s a peaceful silence. A rare one. Most of the time it makes him push even harder.
“How about…” but Dean can’t finish. Busty Asian beauties and cheerleader twins sound like cartoons compared to the newfound intensity in Castiel’s eyes. He is doing this, Dean is. That look is for him.
“I used to see so much. I saw your soul, Dean.” He moans with the memory and the movement of Dean’s hand over his own.
Dean takes a second to process the fact that Castiel is turned on by his very soul. Like it is something wondrous to him, like that is possible. Then he moves his hand away. “Think of it now.” Dean speaks into Castiel’s ear and hovers over his left side, close enough to kiss.
Dean watches Castiel shut his eyes closed and start moving his hand faster. Dean watches, wondering what the angel sees.
Then Dean does kiss, knowing he’s distracting, just pressing his lips to Castiel’s and pulling back again, pressing and pulling, using his tongue just a little to tease when Cas moans.
“What do you see?” Dean whispers it in his ear, and manages to stop kissing him long enough to let him speak.
“Everything!”
The way Cas shouts it, in a half-moan, almost scares Dean. He sits back on his heels and just watches as Cas starts to lose it, more quickly all the time. “Everything?”
“The answer!” is all Cas breathes out.
Dean can’t even respond before Castiel is groping for him, pulling him closer without even opening his eyes. He figures Cas would be losing his mind except he’s so intense, he has to be serious.
He’s downright breathless when he speaks. “The answer, between Heaven and Earth.”
Dean’s never heard him try to speak so much when he’s trying to get off, and he wonders if it always makes Cas so seriously grandiose. He wants to bring him back down to earth. He’s tired of meaning. He wants Castiel.
Moreso, he doesn’t want to see if Castiel can get off just from the image of his soul. He’s tempted to turn him over and get as far as he can inside of him until Castiel can’t think of anything else, or imagine anything at all. He wants to replace whatever delusions Cas has with the slap of their thighs, their sweat.
As if reading his thoughts, Castiel digs his fingertips into Dean’s shoulder, and comes with a silent shout, his hand moving away the second his sex jumps in his fingers.
Then, Dean has to squeeze himself just to calm down. But Castiel is so damn earnest, Dean goes from wanting to fuck his brains out to wanting to pat him on the head in the space of a minute. He waits for Castiel to return to earth.
*
“What are we doing here, Cas?” Dean asks it to the ceiling, his limbs draped all over Castiel lazily.
Cas just smiles. “I was waiting for you to ask me that.”
Dean just rolls his eyes. “So?”
“Dean,” his smile broadens, “we’re remaking the world.”
Dean’s hand freezes in his hair. “Come on, Cas, not that god-talk again.” Ok, so something about seeing the other man totally undone by the thought of his soul really does freak him out. It’s too easy to take it out on Castiel, so he doesn’t.
“It’s not him. It’s not about him. It’s us. Our bodies, my memory, your soul.”
“Your soul now, too, you know. You have one too.”
And Castiel’s face freezes, like this had never occurred to him before. Though Dean knows he has. “I do…”
“YES. And imagination, and conscience, and free will - all those things. You know - human.” It’s hard not to talk to him as if he’s a child. An ancient child. “HUMAN. So stop trying to make us sound like some mythological bullshit.”
Cas as he runs a hand over his face, like wiping off his expression. “Fine, no myths.”
Dean ignores it. “Yeah, no myths. Men in myths fall to the earth when they lose their feathers - and they die. Or the gods punish them. Or some raptor comes by and eats their liver. And in my life, everything is too fucking literal. No thanks.”
Cas raises his hands off the bed in mock surrender. “Ok, Dean.”
Dean knows he never means it, but he won’t argue anymore. He just wishes Cas would stop trying to give their situation more meaning. Like they hadn’t done enough already. After a long while, he speaks. “I just don’t want someone coming along and asking more from us. We’ve given enough, Cas. I’m tired. Stop using me to try to make sense of the world. There’s no sense to be had, believe me.”
Cas is silent for a long time. “Dean. Ours is a story to make sense of the world. How else do you explain this?” He leans over Dean’s body, encompassing both. “I have to tell it. It’s our gift to the angels, for letting me go. Besides, I do want to know. How can I not ask questions? What else can I do?”
Then Dean does sigh. “Nothing. Just…” Only he never answers. Just shrugs and curls against Castiel’s side.
*
“Cas?”
“Yes?”
“Call me if you need me, alright?”
“I always do, Dean. You just have to listen for me.”
And Dean knows he is right. And he will.
The End