fic: Lessons in the Night Water
Title: Lessons in the Night Water
Author: elfladyarwen
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: s5 perhaps?
Warnings: None, maybe a small one for fun, wet silliness
Word Count: 1000-4999
Author’s Note: This was written for xrai_namere's !everlasting birthday challenge prompt: Dean teaches Castiel how to swim. Castiel isn't exactly scared of water, but to him Heaven is sort of warm-ish and dry-ish, so he's very cautious when it comes to immersing himself in "very wet" water. Happy Birthday, dear!
Summary: Dean attempts to lure Cas into the water for a swimming lesson that was supposed to be simple...
“Come on, you big pansy. Get in here, right now. I’m serious.”
Dean’s order is greeted with an angry flash of blue eyes bright enough to be seen in the evening’s fading light.
“What are you afraid of?” he calls again to the man standing awkwardly on the lake’s bank, shoulders hunched and toes wriggling in the mud nervously. Jesus, it will be sun up before he can figure out a way to be persuasive enough to coax the big chicken into the water.
“I am not afraid,” Castiel growls defensively, shooting Dean another glare as he taps at his bare stomach with a few long fingers, “I’m merely contemplating my best approach for attack.” He goes back to staring down his reflection on the water’s surface with a tight frown as if it’s a formidable foe about to lunge up and snatch him.
“Jesus Christ, Cas. It’s not a demon. It’s just water! This is not a fight, it’s a frickin’ swimming lesson. Or at least it would be, if you’d stop being such a coward and get in already,” Dean huffs in exasperation, using a palm to send a splash in the angel’s direction. It falls in a shimmering flurry, pitifully short of its destination, since Dean is already chest deep in the lake’s shallows, but Cas flinches anyway.
“Do. not. rush me!” the angel hisses, his face a combination of fury and anxiety. It’s sorta pitiful really, how adverse he is to doing this and Dean has to bite his lip as he watches Cas tentatively toe at the water. One would think he’s never even laid eyes on a body of water before. It’s downright adorable. And sad. And Dean is losing his patience.
“Dude, it’s cool. I’m right here, I won’t let any of the lake monsters eat you,” Dean deadpans, holding out his arms invitingly and giving his fingers a waggle as if that’s going to be enough to convince Castiel to enter the water once and for all. The angel’s head jerks up sharply at the possibility of creatures lurking in the deep, waiting for unknowing prey and Dean smacks his fists down, springing murky water up and around his ears. “Oh come on! I was just kidding. You’re an Angel of the Lord, man! What are a few monsters to you anyhow?” he barks.
Castiel looks consoled by this, and affirms the hunter’s statement with a tight nod of his head. He goes back to submerging his foot, centimeters at a time down into the lake. Dean decides that since this is more progress than has been made in the previous half an hour, he should keep his mouth shut and let Cas come in at his own leisure. He dips his head fully under, making a little show of how good the water feels on his naked skin and when he returns his gaze to the shore after shaking like a dog, he’s immediately aware of Castiel watching his every move with rapt attention. Good. Any reason to further convince the big baby to get in.
“What’s your beef with swimming anyway? No ponds or rivers up in Heaven? Angels all H2O intolerant?” he teases as he shifts to float on his back, paddling with lazy ease back toward shallower water.
“Of course not,” Cas grumbles, now up to his knees, but looking almost as uncomfortable and wide-eyed as he was the time Dean took him to the brothel. “There’s never been a necessity to learn how to swim before now. I’m an angel, I can fly over bodies of water with simple ease,” he says in that annoyingly matter-of-fact monotone. Dean rolls his eyes and ‘accidentally’ douses Cas’ side with water thrown up from a kick. The angel yelps and raises his arms defensively against the sudden onslaught. “Seriously, Cas,” Dean laughs, “I’m getting old and pruney waiting for your ass. Just come to me, you can still stand up right here. It’ll be fine.”
For a long moment, Castiel looks mutinous, glancing back over his shoulder at the discarded warmth of his piled clothing. Then he inhales deeply through his nose to gather his nerve and shuffles slowly out into the water. When it sucks up around the waistband of his black boxers, he bites his lip. When it sloshes up to cover his shoulder blades, he audibly gasps and goes completely rigid.
“Dude, you ok?” Dean asks, wading forward to grab hold of the angel’s arms which are clamped down against his ribs. He gives what’s visible of Cas’ pale skin a quick once over, thinking maybe his friend has stepped on something in the rocky lakebed.
“My wings,” Castiel pants through clinched teeth, shaking his head to tell Dean to give him a moment to regain control. A surge of guilt rises in the hunter’s throat, cause dammit, he didn’t even think about wings and how they might play into this supposedly simple swimming lesson.
“Does it hurt to get them wet or something?” Dean says with concern, one hand slipping behind Cas’ back to gently cover the other man’s spine, just below where he would imagine wings would protrude. The intimate touch is given without thought, his worry for Cas’ well being taking first priority over how inappropriate this encounter might be. The angel doesn’t seem bothered by it, however and drops his head forward till it rests lightly on Dean’s damp shoulder. “No. It’s a sensation I’ve never experienced. The elemental properties of this lake hinder my ability to move them with dexterity. Total submersion such as this makes them…uncomfortably heavy.”
“Shit, Cas. I didn’t know,” Dean mutters in way of an apology, moving his hand up briefly to sift the water from the dark curls clinging to nape of the angel’s neck. Cas leans into the warm caress and shakes his head again. “Which is why I am not upset with you, Dean. I simply needed a moment to adjust. I don’t believe I’ll be dragged down by their weight after all. Thank you. You may proceed.”
Dean chuckles and replaces the space between them. Wow, they’d gotten extremely close then without him realizing it and he finds it necessary to clear his throat and roll his shoulders into the water to wash away the lingering feeling of Cas’ skin there. The angel appears not to notice and stands waiting for further instruction.
“Right, ok. Swimming. The number one objective here is to keep your head above water and keep yourself afloat. You suck down a lung full of water, then you stop breathing, and you’ve defeated the entire purpose of swimming, get me?” Dean says with military pompousness, moving the two of them a bit deeper into the lake.
“I don’t need to breathe,” Cas informs him with a frown. Dean counters the look with a good imitation of Sam’s bitchface and motions for Cas to lay back into the water. “Be that as it may, there may come a time when you have to save my ass from the water, in which case you’d better know how to swim ‘cause if your lack of competency gets me killed, I’ll be pissed as hell. So just shut up and float on your back. No, I said float, dammit! Relax. You have to relax and just let your body go limp. Yeah, like that.”
Dean sinks down to hover next to Castiel’s floating form, one arm underneath his bony back and the other pressed up underneath the angel’s knees to make sure a freak out isn’t about to happen and nobody flails themselves underwater. “Good job. See, that’s not so hard, is it?” he murmurs encouragingly, letting Cas find his natural balance and what it takes to buoy his torso at just the right level.
“It’s not,” Cas agrees, blinking stray droplets from his long lashes as he looks up into the painted sky. “It’s rather soothing once the human fear of mortality still lingering in my vessel is overcome. I believe I can make it a short distance in this position without drowning,” he says happily.
“I won’t let you drown,” Dean grumbles indignantly. “What kind of teacher do you think I am?” A hell of a lot better one then his father, whose primary teaching method had consisted of throwing his two sons into a freezing motel pool without fanfare, with the opinion of ‘if you sink, you die, if you don’t then you can swim.’
“I know you won’t. I trust you, Dean,” Cas says with such open sincerity, Dean’s ears go a little red. Cas really is kinda attractive when he’s relaxed and looking like he’s enjoying himself instead of walking around with a stick up his ass. Dean’s never seen such inexplicably blue eyes.
“Ok, so let’s try it the other way. Roll over onto your stomach, nice and slow. No, don’t worry, I got ya, you’re not going anywhere. Now see if you can find that same balance you had before. Move your arms if you have to and just kick up and down with your legs from below the knee. Easy, dude! You’re not fucking Flipper!” Dean sputters as he’s smacked with a face full of brackish water from Castiel’s over zealous attempts. The angel huffs, clearly not as impressed with this manner of swimming as he was of floating, but Dean steels himself and tightens his grip on Cas’ midsection.
“Alright, hold up. Just stop! This isn’t working. Let’s try observation first, then repetition. You like to watch, I should have thought of that first. Here, watch me, Cas,” the hunter orders, righting the windmilling angel before cutting back smoothly to swim a lazy breaststroke back and forth a ways down the lake. He’s careful to lift and drop his arms to and from the water slowly and precisely so Cas’ squinting gaze burns every one of his motions to memory. He dives, pulling his body in on its self and surfaces again, resuming his strokes in the opposite direction. “See? Up and over and in and around. Up and over and in and around.”
Cas hums rather forlornly, as if to convey he understands what is desired of him, but lacks the confidence to do it. He’s still and unmoving as he waits for Dean to return to his side, the paleness of his skin looking chilled and quite out of place in the dark, fluid lake water. He looks so lost, it makes something in Dean’s chest tighten because he’s not used to thinking of Cas as vulnerable. Since his angel mojo is on the decline, they’ve had to have more and more of these Human 101 lessons. Cas is virtually a child in this state, not in body or ability of course, but a child’s knowledge of the world. It’s a fact that makes nobody in the group happy, but Dean’s recently gotten it into his head that maybe he can show the angel being human isn’t all that terrible. He can’t do a lot, he’s only one man, weighted with the threat of plotting archangels and deadly horsemen and the looming apocalypse and oh yeah, a cracked brain that still rebels viciously in the middle of the night with memories of death and hell. But he can teach Cas how to wield a gun. He can teach Cas about the joy of pancakes and bacon and how to keep his nails cut short so grave dirt doesn’t get stuck up under them. And he can take away another little piece of Cas’ trepidation about being human by teaching him how to swim on one of their rare free days. So, refusing to give up till Cas can lap circles around Michael Phelps, he walks himself back into the shallows and gestures the other man back to him.
Castiel grimly obliges, causing a mighty stir in the water as he sloshes his way down the bank. Dean grins at the sight; Cas is, by the minute, looking more like a pissed off drowned rat then an angel, with a scowl on his face and his dark hair plastered to his forehead. The sinking of the sun behind the hill has also left a chill in the air, so despite the water being nice and warm, goosebumps are quick to rise on any skin left exposed. “Come on, dude. Just try it once, and then we’ll call it quits for the day,” Dean lies lightly. Castiel sighs and moves to take his position in the loose circle of Dean’s arms.
He doesn’t make it. It’s instantaneous - one second Cas is right in front of him and the next, he’s not. There’s only a gurgle and a minute splash to give evidence to his disappearance and Dean’s throat constricts so hard, he can’t even squeak in shock. “Cas!” he manages to croak, surging toward the hole in the water.
The angel erupts from the lake before he can get there, sucking in painful gasps of liquid air and hacking them back out just as violently. He flounders, pummeling the surface trying to drag him back under with small, choked cries until Dean snatches him up in an embrace. He’s still sputtering and coughing a bit as Dean swipes the dripping swatches of hair off his face and one blue eye cracks open to give his savior the most irate glare the world has ever known. Dean can’t help the weak wheeze of laughter that rises. “Dude. You ok?”
Castiel turns his head and an arch of dirty lake water streams from his lips like a fountain. “No.”
“Must have stepped into a ditch or something, probably got weighed down by your wings” Dean murmurs lamely, continuing to stroke Cas’ soaked hair, which is mostly done in self reassurance. The angel clutches tightly to Dean’s body, his limbs wrapped around any broad, steadfast surface they can find, like a little octopus. Dean doesn’t mind, only holsters Cas up an inch till his legs fit more snuggly around his waist. He cradles his angel delicately, needing the warm press of a chest on his own as he measures each inhale and exhale. Still superfluously breathing, no danger here, nothing to panic about. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he says, still a bit shell shocked and not fully conscious of the idle fingertips he’s running over Cas’ ribs.
“I don’t think I care for swimming after all,” Castiel rumbles into his ear. Dean presses a wry smile into the angel’s neck and tightens his hold on him. “S’not that bad. At least Sam’s not here to dunk you under every 5 minutes like a douchebag,” he offers in way of comfort.
Cas does his unimpressed hum again and detangles most of his upper body away so that he can look into Dean’s face. He does not in any fashion loosen his death grip on Dean’s waist. In fact, he rolls his hips closer and the sudden hot contact there makes Dean tense and go stone still. The irritation in Cas’ face has melted away to something softer and his eyes are impossibly wide and bright in the rising moonlight. It’s making Dean’s dick perk up in interest and suddenly the air isn’t anything but stifling, the lap of water at his back the only relief from the fire being generated between their bodies. It’s only when Dean shifts his weight to glide back into deeper water does Cas break the stalemate.
“Don’t -” he starts, leaning fearfully into his lifeline again till chests are flush against chests and slick foreheads are connected. Dean shushes him, petting one flank soothingly as he tugs Cas further into the water. “I’ve got you. Hang on to me, Cas and you’ll be fine.” He drops a careful, timid nuzzle onto the stubbled cheek that’s within reach, his pulse giving a thready little flutter at the soft sigh the angel releases at the touch. He does it again, this time a little further south, towards the jawline and is elated to find Cas turning his head to give Dean better access to his chosen spot. It seems he isn’t the only one affected by their close proximity. And there’s that shaky, nauseous spasming of his gut when he realizes he may want Cas. There’s something completely surreal about all of this and Dean can’t bring himself to care because the angel has just made a noise that’s half-sigh, half-growl and is lipping at Dean’s ear. Oh shit. He might be in big, big trouble here.
“D’you put a spell on me, Cas,” he mumbles against the angel’s adam’s apple, sucking red blossoms onto the pale skin there. “What’s happening here?” It’s asked more for rhetorical value than want of clarification, but Castiel has never understood rhetoric very well. He digs his nails into the top of Dean’s shoulders and tips his head back till his hair brushes the water. “I haven’t done anything to you that you don’t dream about. I haven’t done anything you don’t beg me for with every move you make. You can’t hide from me, Dean. You can’t fall in love with an angel without him knowing. Not if he loves you in return.”
Dean’s brain does a serious lurch at that and his mouth stills somewhere below the crest of Cas’ cheek. In love with an angel? There was no fucking way. Sure, okay, if he was totally honest there had been times he’d allowed himself to fantasize what it would be like to have Cas as a bed partner. He could imagine the way that 5 o’clock shadow would feel on his inner thighs, the way those eyelashes would flutter as Dean sunk up to the hilt inside Cas’ tight body. He could imagine the way those lips would wrap around his cock and blow his mind and teach him that Heaven had a taste and a scent and the most delicious moan ever heard. But Dean was a creature of lust, he didn’t do love and he didn’t fall for anybody, much less a frickin’ Angel of the Lord. He buries his blushing face in the crook of Cas’ neck with a groan and knows it’s the biggest fucking lie he’s ever told himself. He’s delusional and rock hard and wants this so much it hurts. “I just took you out here to swim,” he says weakly.
Castiel smiles at that and cups his hand to gather up sparkling water to dribble down the back of Dean’s neck. “We are. I assure you that while inexperienced, I can do this next part better then the first.” Dean shivers and it has abso-fucking-nothing to do with the cold. Alrighty then, he’s more then game.
Dean’s mouth leaves no ground uncovered - he claims both eyelids, the slope of Cas’ nose, the hinge of his jaw, his hairline. They all get branded beneath his mouth, they all get baptised by the tip of his tongue in a slow, exploratory line. Until Cas gets impatient and clamps both hands on Dean’s face to manhandle him into a position he wants. “No, kiss me here,” he snarls, and latches his mouth fiercely over the hunter’s.
Dean moans, feeling like he’s just swallowed something holy.
Castiel tastes citrusy with hints of dark, rich spice and there’s a touch of some kind of burn there that’s unearthly and electric and leaves Dean feeling like he’s just crunched down on about 20 Altoids all at once. Cas’ fingers skitter down Dean’s jaw till the pad of a thumb is burrowing it’s way into his mouth to replace panting lips. Dean nibbles at it, watching Cas’s reaction through hooded eyes. When he sucks it all the way in and circles it with his tongue, the angel’s breath hitches and Dean can actually see his pupils blow out with lust, the brilliant blue being forced to nothing more then a ring. “Dean.”
It’s both a warning and a plea and Dean’s almost knocked off balance as Cas crashes into him again, devouring him. God, he feels like he’s drowning, but it’s such a good way to go, he’s okay with it. He’d rather drown here in Cas then save himself and live to be a suit for another angel. Cas wants his body the right way and he’s prepared to give everything and more. More. He meets Cas kiss for kiss, wanting more heat, more friction. More, please. He tells Cas this, but the angel only snarls and bites down on the taut muscle connecting his neck to his body.
Dean whines and reaches into the paper thin space between them to palm Cas’ erection through his boxers, which earned him another bite, hard enough this time to bring blood to the surface. He’ll be sporting some impressive hickeys when they leave here tonight. Cas is mimicking his actions, groping at the front of Dean’s trunks and it’s clumsy and awkward trying to work around the clinging, flooded material. Neither man is deterred, and Dean lifts Cas from his lap to snatch the boxers first from one leg, then the other. He’s pretty pleased with himself at the end ‘cause he’s managed to fully strip Castiel without ever having to pry him completely off his body. Cas is doing an eager, but piss-poor job of trying to shuck off Dean’s shorts, so the hunter traps both his wrists in one large hand and does it himself, just far enough down to have the fabric floating at his knees.
“Fuck,” Dean curses as tapered fingers escape and close wetly around his straining cock. The searing warmth of Cas’ hand in contrast to the lukewarm lake is almost enough to have him blow his load without ever being further touched. The angel must be doing the mind tapping thing cause he squeezes the base of Dean’s cock to halt the rush of a too-soon orgasm and Dean tries to preoccupy himself by capturing Cas’ lips again.
“Beautiful,” he whispers into Castiel’s mouth. “You’re so beautiful.” He means it, wanting to say more eloquently how the crescent of Cas’ lashes on his cheeks makes him feel, how ethereal the pale night lights look dancing over his perfect skin. Like light and magic and white fire. Jesus, that skin - it’s raking flames everywhere it touches down on Dean’s body. He’s standing in water and is about to be burnt to ash. He welcomes it.
“Dean, I need you.”
“I know what you need, baby.” He stills Cas’ gyrating hips (he can’t fucking think when that pert little ass is grinding on him) and reaches between them again to the sensitive path of skin that trails behind Cas’ balls to his hole. He circles the ring of taut muscle there, wringing exquisite noises from the angel’s throat. “You’re so eager, I can’t stand it.” He sinks a single finger in to the second knuckle and has to brace himself more firmly to avoid getting knocked over by Cas’ wild bucking.
“More,” Dean is commanded and he obeys, shoving another digit in to scissor and rub Castiel from the inside out. There’s no lube which makes him momentarily hesitant because he’s big enough to do some real damage if Cas isn’t ready for him. But Cas is opening without issue, so hot and soft it makes Dean’s mouth go dry, and doing this in the water is turning out to be a great idea cause nature’s already slicking the way for him. When Cas is writhing, trying to fuck himself down hard on the fingers inside him, Dean removes them and lines up the leaking head of his cock at Cas’ entrance and drives himself home.
The harmony of groans echo off the water’s surface and Dean has to pause, head buried in Cas’ shoulder in order not to lose it. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Cas.”
“God has nothing to do with this. You belong to me,” Cas rumbles in reply, clawing his hands back and forth across Dean’s back, marking him for all the world to see. “Move now, Dean. Please.” Fuck, it’s sexy when Cas bosses him around. He shouldn’t be surprised by it, the angel has always been demanding, knowing exactly what he wants and how to get it. Right now, he wants Dean and that’s the only thing ringing through Dean’s head.
He wants to go slow, he does. He wants to relish this ‘cause there may not be another chance for them and he wants to break apart and have Cas piece him together again like he did a year ago when he raised him from the void and made himself a part of his life forever. But Cas is using those deceptively strong thigh muscles to thrust himself up and down on Dean’s thick cock and Dean can do little more but grasp those sharp hips tight and hold on for the ride. Up and over and in and around.
Cas is making high-pitched little whimpers now, his back arched as he clutches at Dean’s chest and neck and Dean leans in to lick the water droplets off the pale column of his throat and collarbone. He shifts the angle of penetration and knows he’s hitting something good deep inside of Cas when the angel gasps and breaks his rhythm. He’s close, Dean can tell - partly from the sex flush creeping up his body and partly from the incoherent mutterings he’s stringing in a multitude of languages. Dean goes to work on the angel’s cock again, giving it long strokes from shaft to tip, pressing it against the plane of his stomach for extra friction. “Come on, Cas. Let go, I’ve got you. I won’t let you go under,” he promises.
That’s all it takes - Cas’ eyes shoot open and before Dean can react there’s a sudden pressure on his face and his vision goes black and Cas is keening on top of him loud enough to flush the birds from the treeline on the shore. He ought to have wondered where his sight went, but Cas is a vice on his cock and there’s a blastwave of heat and what feels like raw energy sent through the water that seems to rip him molecule from molecule and hold him up suspended in mid air. He can see glow behind his eyelids, bright enough to sting and he reels from the combination being done on his senses. He spills deep inside Cas’ trembling body, harder then he can remember coming in years.
He can’t pull in air fast enough to satisfy his deprived lungs and he feels light-headed as he raises his head to ask Cas why he can’t see. That’s when Castiel removes his hand from Dean’s face and locks eyes with the man who’s still inside him. “What the hell was that?” Dean asks in reference to the blastwave, his voice quivering too much for his liking.
“Grace.” And with one word, Castiel has managed to sum up the entire definition of their relationship.
“Holy fuck, Cas,” Dean whispers, reaching up to cup the angel’s face as Cas breathes a laugh in reply. “Indeed. Perhaps I do enjoy swimming after all. I will want to retake the class, I’m almost positive.”
Tomorrow they’ll go back to battling the end of the world. Tomorrow will be the return of making the same mistakes, and screaming the same silent pleas for help. But tonight they’re swimming, and there’s nothing but fallen moonlight and the press of lips in the dark - and the water has never been so cleansing as it is right now.
Author: elfladyarwen
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: s5 perhaps?
Warnings: None, maybe a small one for fun, wet silliness
Word Count: 1000-4999
Author’s Note: This was written for xrai_namere's !everlasting birthday challenge prompt: Dean teaches Castiel how to swim. Castiel isn't exactly scared of water, but to him Heaven is sort of warm-ish and dry-ish, so he's very cautious when it comes to immersing himself in "very wet" water. Happy Birthday, dear!
Summary: Dean attempts to lure Cas into the water for a swimming lesson that was supposed to be simple...
“Come on, you big pansy. Get in here, right now. I’m serious.”
Dean’s order is greeted with an angry flash of blue eyes bright enough to be seen in the evening’s fading light.
“What are you afraid of?” he calls again to the man standing awkwardly on the lake’s bank, shoulders hunched and toes wriggling in the mud nervously. Jesus, it will be sun up before he can figure out a way to be persuasive enough to coax the big chicken into the water.
“I am not afraid,” Castiel growls defensively, shooting Dean another glare as he taps at his bare stomach with a few long fingers, “I’m merely contemplating my best approach for attack.” He goes back to staring down his reflection on the water’s surface with a tight frown as if it’s a formidable foe about to lunge up and snatch him.
“Jesus Christ, Cas. It’s not a demon. It’s just water! This is not a fight, it’s a frickin’ swimming lesson. Or at least it would be, if you’d stop being such a coward and get in already,” Dean huffs in exasperation, using a palm to send a splash in the angel’s direction. It falls in a shimmering flurry, pitifully short of its destination, since Dean is already chest deep in the lake’s shallows, but Cas flinches anyway.
“Do. not. rush me!” the angel hisses, his face a combination of fury and anxiety. It’s sorta pitiful really, how adverse he is to doing this and Dean has to bite his lip as he watches Cas tentatively toe at the water. One would think he’s never even laid eyes on a body of water before. It’s downright adorable. And sad. And Dean is losing his patience.
“Dude, it’s cool. I’m right here, I won’t let any of the lake monsters eat you,” Dean deadpans, holding out his arms invitingly and giving his fingers a waggle as if that’s going to be enough to convince Castiel to enter the water once and for all. The angel’s head jerks up sharply at the possibility of creatures lurking in the deep, waiting for unknowing prey and Dean smacks his fists down, springing murky water up and around his ears. “Oh come on! I was just kidding. You’re an Angel of the Lord, man! What are a few monsters to you anyhow?” he barks.
Castiel looks consoled by this, and affirms the hunter’s statement with a tight nod of his head. He goes back to submerging his foot, centimeters at a time down into the lake. Dean decides that since this is more progress than has been made in the previous half an hour, he should keep his mouth shut and let Cas come in at his own leisure. He dips his head fully under, making a little show of how good the water feels on his naked skin and when he returns his gaze to the shore after shaking like a dog, he’s immediately aware of Castiel watching his every move with rapt attention. Good. Any reason to further convince the big baby to get in.
“What’s your beef with swimming anyway? No ponds or rivers up in Heaven? Angels all H2O intolerant?” he teases as he shifts to float on his back, paddling with lazy ease back toward shallower water.
“Of course not,” Cas grumbles, now up to his knees, but looking almost as uncomfortable and wide-eyed as he was the time Dean took him to the brothel. “There’s never been a necessity to learn how to swim before now. I’m an angel, I can fly over bodies of water with simple ease,” he says in that annoyingly matter-of-fact monotone. Dean rolls his eyes and ‘accidentally’ douses Cas’ side with water thrown up from a kick. The angel yelps and raises his arms defensively against the sudden onslaught. “Seriously, Cas,” Dean laughs, “I’m getting old and pruney waiting for your ass. Just come to me, you can still stand up right here. It’ll be fine.”
For a long moment, Castiel looks mutinous, glancing back over his shoulder at the discarded warmth of his piled clothing. Then he inhales deeply through his nose to gather his nerve and shuffles slowly out into the water. When it sucks up around the waistband of his black boxers, he bites his lip. When it sloshes up to cover his shoulder blades, he audibly gasps and goes completely rigid.
“Dude, you ok?” Dean asks, wading forward to grab hold of the angel’s arms which are clamped down against his ribs. He gives what’s visible of Cas’ pale skin a quick once over, thinking maybe his friend has stepped on something in the rocky lakebed.
“My wings,” Castiel pants through clinched teeth, shaking his head to tell Dean to give him a moment to regain control. A surge of guilt rises in the hunter’s throat, cause dammit, he didn’t even think about wings and how they might play into this supposedly simple swimming lesson.
“Does it hurt to get them wet or something?” Dean says with concern, one hand slipping behind Cas’ back to gently cover the other man’s spine, just below where he would imagine wings would protrude. The intimate touch is given without thought, his worry for Cas’ well being taking first priority over how inappropriate this encounter might be. The angel doesn’t seem bothered by it, however and drops his head forward till it rests lightly on Dean’s damp shoulder. “No. It’s a sensation I’ve never experienced. The elemental properties of this lake hinder my ability to move them with dexterity. Total submersion such as this makes them…uncomfortably heavy.”
“Shit, Cas. I didn’t know,” Dean mutters in way of an apology, moving his hand up briefly to sift the water from the dark curls clinging to nape of the angel’s neck. Cas leans into the warm caress and shakes his head again. “Which is why I am not upset with you, Dean. I simply needed a moment to adjust. I don’t believe I’ll be dragged down by their weight after all. Thank you. You may proceed.”
Dean chuckles and replaces the space between them. Wow, they’d gotten extremely close then without him realizing it and he finds it necessary to clear his throat and roll his shoulders into the water to wash away the lingering feeling of Cas’ skin there. The angel appears not to notice and stands waiting for further instruction.
“Right, ok. Swimming. The number one objective here is to keep your head above water and keep yourself afloat. You suck down a lung full of water, then you stop breathing, and you’ve defeated the entire purpose of swimming, get me?” Dean says with military pompousness, moving the two of them a bit deeper into the lake.
“I don’t need to breathe,” Cas informs him with a frown. Dean counters the look with a good imitation of Sam’s bitchface and motions for Cas to lay back into the water. “Be that as it may, there may come a time when you have to save my ass from the water, in which case you’d better know how to swim ‘cause if your lack of competency gets me killed, I’ll be pissed as hell. So just shut up and float on your back. No, I said float, dammit! Relax. You have to relax and just let your body go limp. Yeah, like that.”
Dean sinks down to hover next to Castiel’s floating form, one arm underneath his bony back and the other pressed up underneath the angel’s knees to make sure a freak out isn’t about to happen and nobody flails themselves underwater. “Good job. See, that’s not so hard, is it?” he murmurs encouragingly, letting Cas find his natural balance and what it takes to buoy his torso at just the right level.
“It’s not,” Cas agrees, blinking stray droplets from his long lashes as he looks up into the painted sky. “It’s rather soothing once the human fear of mortality still lingering in my vessel is overcome. I believe I can make it a short distance in this position without drowning,” he says happily.
“I won’t let you drown,” Dean grumbles indignantly. “What kind of teacher do you think I am?” A hell of a lot better one then his father, whose primary teaching method had consisted of throwing his two sons into a freezing motel pool without fanfare, with the opinion of ‘if you sink, you die, if you don’t then you can swim.’
“I know you won’t. I trust you, Dean,” Cas says with such open sincerity, Dean’s ears go a little red. Cas really is kinda attractive when he’s relaxed and looking like he’s enjoying himself instead of walking around with a stick up his ass. Dean’s never seen such inexplicably blue eyes.
“Ok, so let’s try it the other way. Roll over onto your stomach, nice and slow. No, don’t worry, I got ya, you’re not going anywhere. Now see if you can find that same balance you had before. Move your arms if you have to and just kick up and down with your legs from below the knee. Easy, dude! You’re not fucking Flipper!” Dean sputters as he’s smacked with a face full of brackish water from Castiel’s over zealous attempts. The angel huffs, clearly not as impressed with this manner of swimming as he was of floating, but Dean steels himself and tightens his grip on Cas’ midsection.
“Alright, hold up. Just stop! This isn’t working. Let’s try observation first, then repetition. You like to watch, I should have thought of that first. Here, watch me, Cas,” the hunter orders, righting the windmilling angel before cutting back smoothly to swim a lazy breaststroke back and forth a ways down the lake. He’s careful to lift and drop his arms to and from the water slowly and precisely so Cas’ squinting gaze burns every one of his motions to memory. He dives, pulling his body in on its self and surfaces again, resuming his strokes in the opposite direction. “See? Up and over and in and around. Up and over and in and around.”
Cas hums rather forlornly, as if to convey he understands what is desired of him, but lacks the confidence to do it. He’s still and unmoving as he waits for Dean to return to his side, the paleness of his skin looking chilled and quite out of place in the dark, fluid lake water. He looks so lost, it makes something in Dean’s chest tighten because he’s not used to thinking of Cas as vulnerable. Since his angel mojo is on the decline, they’ve had to have more and more of these Human 101 lessons. Cas is virtually a child in this state, not in body or ability of course, but a child’s knowledge of the world. It’s a fact that makes nobody in the group happy, but Dean’s recently gotten it into his head that maybe he can show the angel being human isn’t all that terrible. He can’t do a lot, he’s only one man, weighted with the threat of plotting archangels and deadly horsemen and the looming apocalypse and oh yeah, a cracked brain that still rebels viciously in the middle of the night with memories of death and hell. But he can teach Cas how to wield a gun. He can teach Cas about the joy of pancakes and bacon and how to keep his nails cut short so grave dirt doesn’t get stuck up under them. And he can take away another little piece of Cas’ trepidation about being human by teaching him how to swim on one of their rare free days. So, refusing to give up till Cas can lap circles around Michael Phelps, he walks himself back into the shallows and gestures the other man back to him.
Castiel grimly obliges, causing a mighty stir in the water as he sloshes his way down the bank. Dean grins at the sight; Cas is, by the minute, looking more like a pissed off drowned rat then an angel, with a scowl on his face and his dark hair plastered to his forehead. The sinking of the sun behind the hill has also left a chill in the air, so despite the water being nice and warm, goosebumps are quick to rise on any skin left exposed. “Come on, dude. Just try it once, and then we’ll call it quits for the day,” Dean lies lightly. Castiel sighs and moves to take his position in the loose circle of Dean’s arms.
He doesn’t make it. It’s instantaneous - one second Cas is right in front of him and the next, he’s not. There’s only a gurgle and a minute splash to give evidence to his disappearance and Dean’s throat constricts so hard, he can’t even squeak in shock. “Cas!” he manages to croak, surging toward the hole in the water.
The angel erupts from the lake before he can get there, sucking in painful gasps of liquid air and hacking them back out just as violently. He flounders, pummeling the surface trying to drag him back under with small, choked cries until Dean snatches him up in an embrace. He’s still sputtering and coughing a bit as Dean swipes the dripping swatches of hair off his face and one blue eye cracks open to give his savior the most irate glare the world has ever known. Dean can’t help the weak wheeze of laughter that rises. “Dude. You ok?”
Castiel turns his head and an arch of dirty lake water streams from his lips like a fountain. “No.”
“Must have stepped into a ditch or something, probably got weighed down by your wings” Dean murmurs lamely, continuing to stroke Cas’ soaked hair, which is mostly done in self reassurance. The angel clutches tightly to Dean’s body, his limbs wrapped around any broad, steadfast surface they can find, like a little octopus. Dean doesn’t mind, only holsters Cas up an inch till his legs fit more snuggly around his waist. He cradles his angel delicately, needing the warm press of a chest on his own as he measures each inhale and exhale. Still superfluously breathing, no danger here, nothing to panic about. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he says, still a bit shell shocked and not fully conscious of the idle fingertips he’s running over Cas’ ribs.
“I don’t think I care for swimming after all,” Castiel rumbles into his ear. Dean presses a wry smile into the angel’s neck and tightens his hold on him. “S’not that bad. At least Sam’s not here to dunk you under every 5 minutes like a douchebag,” he offers in way of comfort.
Cas does his unimpressed hum again and detangles most of his upper body away so that he can look into Dean’s face. He does not in any fashion loosen his death grip on Dean’s waist. In fact, he rolls his hips closer and the sudden hot contact there makes Dean tense and go stone still. The irritation in Cas’ face has melted away to something softer and his eyes are impossibly wide and bright in the rising moonlight. It’s making Dean’s dick perk up in interest and suddenly the air isn’t anything but stifling, the lap of water at his back the only relief from the fire being generated between their bodies. It’s only when Dean shifts his weight to glide back into deeper water does Cas break the stalemate.
“Don’t -” he starts, leaning fearfully into his lifeline again till chests are flush against chests and slick foreheads are connected. Dean shushes him, petting one flank soothingly as he tugs Cas further into the water. “I’ve got you. Hang on to me, Cas and you’ll be fine.” He drops a careful, timid nuzzle onto the stubbled cheek that’s within reach, his pulse giving a thready little flutter at the soft sigh the angel releases at the touch. He does it again, this time a little further south, towards the jawline and is elated to find Cas turning his head to give Dean better access to his chosen spot. It seems he isn’t the only one affected by their close proximity. And there’s that shaky, nauseous spasming of his gut when he realizes he may want Cas. There’s something completely surreal about all of this and Dean can’t bring himself to care because the angel has just made a noise that’s half-sigh, half-growl and is lipping at Dean’s ear. Oh shit. He might be in big, big trouble here.
“D’you put a spell on me, Cas,” he mumbles against the angel’s adam’s apple, sucking red blossoms onto the pale skin there. “What’s happening here?” It’s asked more for rhetorical value than want of clarification, but Castiel has never understood rhetoric very well. He digs his nails into the top of Dean’s shoulders and tips his head back till his hair brushes the water. “I haven’t done anything to you that you don’t dream about. I haven’t done anything you don’t beg me for with every move you make. You can’t hide from me, Dean. You can’t fall in love with an angel without him knowing. Not if he loves you in return.”
Dean’s brain does a serious lurch at that and his mouth stills somewhere below the crest of Cas’ cheek. In love with an angel? There was no fucking way. Sure, okay, if he was totally honest there had been times he’d allowed himself to fantasize what it would be like to have Cas as a bed partner. He could imagine the way that 5 o’clock shadow would feel on his inner thighs, the way those eyelashes would flutter as Dean sunk up to the hilt inside Cas’ tight body. He could imagine the way those lips would wrap around his cock and blow his mind and teach him that Heaven had a taste and a scent and the most delicious moan ever heard. But Dean was a creature of lust, he didn’t do love and he didn’t fall for anybody, much less a frickin’ Angel of the Lord. He buries his blushing face in the crook of Cas’ neck with a groan and knows it’s the biggest fucking lie he’s ever told himself. He’s delusional and rock hard and wants this so much it hurts. “I just took you out here to swim,” he says weakly.
Castiel smiles at that and cups his hand to gather up sparkling water to dribble down the back of Dean’s neck. “We are. I assure you that while inexperienced, I can do this next part better then the first.” Dean shivers and it has abso-fucking-nothing to do with the cold. Alrighty then, he’s more then game.
Dean’s mouth leaves no ground uncovered - he claims both eyelids, the slope of Cas’ nose, the hinge of his jaw, his hairline. They all get branded beneath his mouth, they all get baptised by the tip of his tongue in a slow, exploratory line. Until Cas gets impatient and clamps both hands on Dean’s face to manhandle him into a position he wants. “No, kiss me here,” he snarls, and latches his mouth fiercely over the hunter’s.
Dean moans, feeling like he’s just swallowed something holy.
Castiel tastes citrusy with hints of dark, rich spice and there’s a touch of some kind of burn there that’s unearthly and electric and leaves Dean feeling like he’s just crunched down on about 20 Altoids all at once. Cas’ fingers skitter down Dean’s jaw till the pad of a thumb is burrowing it’s way into his mouth to replace panting lips. Dean nibbles at it, watching Cas’s reaction through hooded eyes. When he sucks it all the way in and circles it with his tongue, the angel’s breath hitches and Dean can actually see his pupils blow out with lust, the brilliant blue being forced to nothing more then a ring. “Dean.”
It’s both a warning and a plea and Dean’s almost knocked off balance as Cas crashes into him again, devouring him. God, he feels like he’s drowning, but it’s such a good way to go, he’s okay with it. He’d rather drown here in Cas then save himself and live to be a suit for another angel. Cas wants his body the right way and he’s prepared to give everything and more. More. He meets Cas kiss for kiss, wanting more heat, more friction. More, please. He tells Cas this, but the angel only snarls and bites down on the taut muscle connecting his neck to his body.
Dean whines and reaches into the paper thin space between them to palm Cas’ erection through his boxers, which earned him another bite, hard enough this time to bring blood to the surface. He’ll be sporting some impressive hickeys when they leave here tonight. Cas is mimicking his actions, groping at the front of Dean’s trunks and it’s clumsy and awkward trying to work around the clinging, flooded material. Neither man is deterred, and Dean lifts Cas from his lap to snatch the boxers first from one leg, then the other. He’s pretty pleased with himself at the end ‘cause he’s managed to fully strip Castiel without ever having to pry him completely off his body. Cas is doing an eager, but piss-poor job of trying to shuck off Dean’s shorts, so the hunter traps both his wrists in one large hand and does it himself, just far enough down to have the fabric floating at his knees.
“Fuck,” Dean curses as tapered fingers escape and close wetly around his straining cock. The searing warmth of Cas’ hand in contrast to the lukewarm lake is almost enough to have him blow his load without ever being further touched. The angel must be doing the mind tapping thing cause he squeezes the base of Dean’s cock to halt the rush of a too-soon orgasm and Dean tries to preoccupy himself by capturing Cas’ lips again.
“Beautiful,” he whispers into Castiel’s mouth. “You’re so beautiful.” He means it, wanting to say more eloquently how the crescent of Cas’ lashes on his cheeks makes him feel, how ethereal the pale night lights look dancing over his perfect skin. Like light and magic and white fire. Jesus, that skin - it’s raking flames everywhere it touches down on Dean’s body. He’s standing in water and is about to be burnt to ash. He welcomes it.
“Dean, I need you.”
“I know what you need, baby.” He stills Cas’ gyrating hips (he can’t fucking think when that pert little ass is grinding on him) and reaches between them again to the sensitive path of skin that trails behind Cas’ balls to his hole. He circles the ring of taut muscle there, wringing exquisite noises from the angel’s throat. “You’re so eager, I can’t stand it.” He sinks a single finger in to the second knuckle and has to brace himself more firmly to avoid getting knocked over by Cas’ wild bucking.
“More,” Dean is commanded and he obeys, shoving another digit in to scissor and rub Castiel from the inside out. There’s no lube which makes him momentarily hesitant because he’s big enough to do some real damage if Cas isn’t ready for him. But Cas is opening without issue, so hot and soft it makes Dean’s mouth go dry, and doing this in the water is turning out to be a great idea cause nature’s already slicking the way for him. When Cas is writhing, trying to fuck himself down hard on the fingers inside him, Dean removes them and lines up the leaking head of his cock at Cas’ entrance and drives himself home.
The harmony of groans echo off the water’s surface and Dean has to pause, head buried in Cas’ shoulder in order not to lose it. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Cas.”
“God has nothing to do with this. You belong to me,” Cas rumbles in reply, clawing his hands back and forth across Dean’s back, marking him for all the world to see. “Move now, Dean. Please.” Fuck, it’s sexy when Cas bosses him around. He shouldn’t be surprised by it, the angel has always been demanding, knowing exactly what he wants and how to get it. Right now, he wants Dean and that’s the only thing ringing through Dean’s head.
He wants to go slow, he does. He wants to relish this ‘cause there may not be another chance for them and he wants to break apart and have Cas piece him together again like he did a year ago when he raised him from the void and made himself a part of his life forever. But Cas is using those deceptively strong thigh muscles to thrust himself up and down on Dean’s thick cock and Dean can do little more but grasp those sharp hips tight and hold on for the ride. Up and over and in and around.
Cas is making high-pitched little whimpers now, his back arched as he clutches at Dean’s chest and neck and Dean leans in to lick the water droplets off the pale column of his throat and collarbone. He shifts the angle of penetration and knows he’s hitting something good deep inside of Cas when the angel gasps and breaks his rhythm. He’s close, Dean can tell - partly from the sex flush creeping up his body and partly from the incoherent mutterings he’s stringing in a multitude of languages. Dean goes to work on the angel’s cock again, giving it long strokes from shaft to tip, pressing it against the plane of his stomach for extra friction. “Come on, Cas. Let go, I’ve got you. I won’t let you go under,” he promises.
That’s all it takes - Cas’ eyes shoot open and before Dean can react there’s a sudden pressure on his face and his vision goes black and Cas is keening on top of him loud enough to flush the birds from the treeline on the shore. He ought to have wondered where his sight went, but Cas is a vice on his cock and there’s a blastwave of heat and what feels like raw energy sent through the water that seems to rip him molecule from molecule and hold him up suspended in mid air. He can see glow behind his eyelids, bright enough to sting and he reels from the combination being done on his senses. He spills deep inside Cas’ trembling body, harder then he can remember coming in years.
He can’t pull in air fast enough to satisfy his deprived lungs and he feels light-headed as he raises his head to ask Cas why he can’t see. That’s when Castiel removes his hand from Dean’s face and locks eyes with the man who’s still inside him. “What the hell was that?” Dean asks in reference to the blastwave, his voice quivering too much for his liking.
“Grace.” And with one word, Castiel has managed to sum up the entire definition of their relationship.
“Holy fuck, Cas,” Dean whispers, reaching up to cup the angel’s face as Cas breathes a laugh in reply. “Indeed. Perhaps I do enjoy swimming after all. I will want to retake the class, I’m almost positive.”
Tomorrow they’ll go back to battling the end of the world. Tomorrow will be the return of making the same mistakes, and screaming the same silent pleas for help. But tonight they’re swimming, and there’s nothing but fallen moonlight and the press of lips in the dark - and the water has never been so cleansing as it is right now.