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zoemathemataTitle: In the land of the Emotionally Repressed, Dean Winchester is King. 2/2
Rating: R
Warnings: None. Unless you count schmoop. Probably NSFW.
Spoilers: S4
Continued from Part One
“And so they found He-who-will-not-be-named, staked him and salted and burned the motherfucker. And then Harry and Hermionie got it on.”
“Dean.” Cas really didn’t have to say anything else. The soft reprimand in his tone was sufficient to make Dean slightly sheepish. Sam stifled a chuckle from the corner of the room.
“Well, that’s what they should have done!”
Silence.
“I can’t believe you are even reading this.”
“You expressed a desire for me to immerse myself in pop culture. This was the most popular series at the store. And you proclaimed you would not do any research online regarding the Congo African Grey Parrot.”
“Stupid fucking bird,” he grumbled, itching at his bandage. “I’m probably contaminated.”
“Considering all the things you have fought against, I do not believe you will suffer any long term effects from Moses.” Castiel paused while Dean not-so-silently groused for a few more seconds. “You offered to read to me. This is the book I am reading. I am looking forward to continuing the young wizards’ adventures. They are young and brave and trying always to do the right thing. I find it charming and somewhat… moving.”
Well, now he felt like a douche for making fun of it. He looked down at Castiel’s face. He was lying on the sofa with his head in Dean’s lap. He waited patiently for Dean to begin reading, hands folded and resting on his chest.
“Additionally, I do not believe that Harry and Hermione have any romantic interest in each other.”
“Seriously?”
“I suspect she holds an affection for Ronald Weasley.”
“The red headed kid?” Dean was immediately sucked back into Harry Potter and started flipping pages randomly looking for Ron’s name. He was speechless. Harry was way cooler than Ron. And rich. He would totally pick Harry. He paused. There was no way he just thought that.
“You know if I met him in real life, I would stake him, right? He’s a witch.”
“A wizard,” Cas clarified. “And he is a good wizard.”
“No such thing.”
Another silence.
“All right, fine.” Dean sighed, long and drawn out. “Chapter Four, The Leaky Cauldron...” he read aloud.
* * * *
Dean straightened and looked up expectantly when Sam came back in, loaded down with grocery bags.
“Did you get pie?”
“Dude, when have I ever forgotten the pie?”
Dean gave him the hairy eyeball. Sam scrunched up his face. Bitchface. Cas remained silent from where he sat at the small, square kitchen table, sunglasses perched on his nose.
“One time, one time I forgot the pie. Could you let it go?” Sam set the grocery bags down on the cheap formica counter.
“I had just gotten back from hell, and you forgot pie,” Dean accused, starting to rifle through the bags.
“Well then, this is my mulligan, because I got two pies,” he said triumphantly and with a flourish pulled them out. Cherry and pecan.
Dean was still suspicious.
“Is there ice cream?”
“Please,” Sam scoffed and produced a small bucket of quickly melting vanilla ice cream. Dean grabbed both pies, two spoons, plates and the ice cream and sat kiddy corner next to Cas at the table.
“Pie for dinner.” He was triumphant. He leaned back and snagged two sodas from the fridge, cracking them both open with the snap-hiss of fresh pop.
“I was under the impression that one could not eat just pie for dinner.”
“You can if you eat enough of it.”
“Don’t worry, Cas,” interjected Sam. “I got you a salad too.”
“I would like the salad as well, thank you, Sam.”
“Pie first, salad later,” proclaimed Dean. “If at all,” he added under his breath.
“Without the use of my sight, my hearing has improved greatly.”
Sam snorted and snagged two of the grocery bags with the pinky finger of one hand, while he grabbed a beer from the fridge with the other.
“Are you not joining us for pie?”
It was kind of creepy how good Castiel was at interpreting what he was hearing and translating it into what was going on. Especially since human nuances weren’t his ‘thing.’
Sam looked dubiously at Dean, then at the pies and then back to Castiel. “Uh… the thing is…” he trailed off not quite sure how to tell the angel that Dean made really awkward, blush worthy sounds even when he was eating pie in a room full of people, never mind two full pies. With an angel. Who was likely going to need help eating the pie. Help from Dean. Who loved pie. And the angel too. And now Sam was back to feeling really squicked out and uncomfortable again, like he had been in the bakery when he had to choose which pies to get in the first place. He had no doubt that Dean’s intentions were (somewhat, mostly, okay probably not) pure and he really was having Pie Night to do something nice for Castiel. Just as he no doubt that he was getting the hell out of the kitchen before those pies came out of the box.
“I’ve got… a thing. With some stuff. And it’s in the other…” He gave a quick smile that was totally lost on the sightless angel. “Enjoy your pie.”
And Sam Winchester got the hell outta Dodge.
Dean shrugged. More pie for them.
“Does Sam not like pie?” Castiel had turned his head to the direction in which Sam had just departed.
“Dude, that guy has more problems than you can shake a stick at. Twitchy. His loss is our pie gain.”
Castiel had turned back around, his face directed toward the table. Both hands were resting on the wooden table, palms down, his head titled slightly, as if he was cocking one ear to hear Dean better.
“You have to take the pie out of the foil container, otherwise you get a funny taste in your mouth if the spoon has touched it,” Dean was instructing as he cut a piece of pecan pie and attempted to get it out of the pie plate without destroying the pristine triangle. He jammed the spoon underneath the crust and only succeeded in causing a crusty fault line to break across the top of the pie, little crumbs flying off.
“Motherfucker…” he muttered as he shoehorned the pie out in a mangled lump of sugary goodness onto the plate. He scooped out the remainder of the triangle slice and with a ‘thwack’ it landed on the plate.
“Is the pie not to your liking?”
“Look, it doesn’t matter what it looks like, okay? It all tastes the same.” He sucked a dollop of filling off his thumb.
A quizzical look came over Castiel’s face. “Of course it doesn’t matter what it looks like. I cannot see it.”
Dean scooped up a healthy serving of ice cream and slopped it down on the pie. “Nobody gets the first slice out in one piece anyhow. But with enough ice cream it doesn’t matter.”
He slid the plate over to Castiel, bumping it slightly against the angel’s fingers. Cas immediately pulled his hands off the table and settled them in his lap.
“Why is having pie for dinner so decadent?”
“Cuz it’s bad for you,” Dean answered easily, spooning up a large bite. “It’s too much sugar and no nutritional value, and it’s like you didn’t earn it by eating a bunch of vegetables first.” He held the spoonful up in front of Castiel and was about to order him to open up when Cas spoke again.
“And you would wish to do this every evening?”
“No, not every evening or it wouldn’t be special.” He inched the spoon closer to Castiel’s mouth.
“So you don’t have pie every night in order to preserve it’s significance.”
“Yeah, it like, if you don’t always get what you want when you want it, you want it more and then when you finally get it, it’s even better.”
“I see,” replied Castiel thoughtfully. Dean swore he could see the hamster in Cas’ brain going mad inside a tiny metal wheel.
“There’s too much talking and not enough pie eating going on here.”
When Castiel opened his mouth again to speak, Dean shoved pie in.
Dark eyebrows shot up in surprise, but his lips closed reflexively around the spoon and Dean slid the silver utensil out, while Castiel turned the pie and ice cream over in his mouth thoughtfully. He took a long time, getting pie on what must certainly be every single taste-bud on his tongue. Dean’s mouth fell open a little bit just watching it. Finally, Castiel swallowed.
“What kind of pie is this?”
“Pecan. Awesome, right?”
“Why have we never had this kind of pie before?”
Dean grinned at the near reverential yet slightly accusatory tone. “Like it?”
“It is very… smooth. And sweet. And perhaps slightly…” he ran his tongue over the inside of his mouth again, so very carefully and Dean leaned a little farther forward. “Salty.”
Dean exhaled a slow breath. It was just pie. Just two dudes eating pie. Pie, pie, pie. Focus on the pie. He’d been a saint for the past couple of days because, frankly, it felt a little lecherous to put the moves on a blind guy and Cas had still seemed… remote at times. It could have been that he was just focusing more on his other senses without the use of his eyes, or perhaps he was even more perplexed without the visual input. At any rate, after years of being prodded, pushed and emotionally poked by Sam, Dean knew what it was like to want a little space and time to figure some shit out. So he hadn’t pushed. That was him. Mr. Sensitivity.
And now he was staring at Cas’ lips as his tongue darted out to capture the last taste of pie like he was a fourteen year old girl at a Twilight convention. Cas turned his head expectantly toward Dean.
“Dean.”
“Yes?” Please yes.
Another pause, and then a head tilt. “Is there no more pie?”
Dean’s body jerked a little. “Uh, no, I mean, yes, I mean, there’s more pie.”
He carved another large bite, careful to get both pie and ice cream on the spoon (because dammit, it was an art) and held the spoon up toward Cas’ lips.
It foolishly didn’t occur to him until the spoon was hovering there for a moment and Cas hadn’t yet opened his mouth, that Cas couldn’t see the spoon.
And suddenly everything that came to mind to say sounded really, really, really fucking dirty.
He moved the spoon in closer and brushed it against the soft edges of Castiel’s lips, smearing them with corn syrup and cream. He didn’t even mean for it to be provocative.
Okay, maybe just a little.
He was going to hell. Again.
He looked away from Cas. Depressed Cas. Cas he was trying to help. And he wasn’t going to fuck it up (ha!) by fucking it up.
The spoon slid in between the angel’s lips and as before, his lips closed tight around the metal as Dean pulled it slowly out. At this point, Dean thought he might be sweating a little. Castiel again rolled the confection around his mouth, like he had to catalogue each individual sensation and taste in case he never got the chance again. He swallowed. Dean reminded himself men don’t cry, men don’t cry. Except for the manly tear of doom. Which was, as the name implied, manly. In a moment of panic, he shoveled an impossible amount of pie in his own mouth.
Damn, it was good pie. As good as store bought can get. If he wasn’t going to get anything else tonight, he was going to eat massive amounts of pie, god-dammit. He ignored his own sage council from earlier and gouged out an obscene chunk from the pie tin, not caring that the spoon had touched the foil plate.
“I enjoy the texture of this pie,” intoned Castiel lowly, and now that Dean had sex on the brain, it’s like Cas’ voice had a direct line to his groin. His voice was a reminder of dark nights and whispered words and tangled limbs. “It is heavy and dense.” Castiel licked his lips. “And velvety.”
“Holy fuck,” Dean blurted, and he almost drooled onto his own lap.
“Is something wrong?”
Dean forced in more pie. “No.” His voice was muffled around the food. It really was amazing how much pie you could get into your mouth in such a short amount of time.
“Are you eating the rest of my pie?”
“It’s our pie!”
Castiel reached out tentatively and his hand collided with one of the cans of soda pop, knocking it over and sending it spilling over the edge of the table and into Dean’s lap. Dean cursed at the sharp splash of cold carbonation.
“Fuck!”
“I am sorry, Dean.”
Dean didn’t look up as he grabbed a roll of paper towels from the corner of the table. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s fine.” He started mopping up the mess on the table before it seeped over the other edge and dribbled on Cas. He piled the soggy mess on the far corner of the table. He wound another set of small not-so-absorbent rectangles around his hand and tried to dab at his jeans. Without touching too much of his lower body.
“Perhaps you should remove your pants.”
Dean was wiping ineffectually at the denim, accomplishing absolutely nothing. “No, it’s fine,” he repeated. “It’s not that…” he looked up sharply.
Castiel was leaning far over the corner of the table, encroaching into Dean’s space. He had a slight quizzical look on his face.
“You did not just do that on purpose.”
The corners of Cas’ lips quirked and in one slow movement he scooched his chair closer to Dean’s, bumping his knees up against the other’s. Dean could see himself reflected in the shiny surface of the sunglasses Cas wore. “It is endearing how you forget that while I may not always understand common colloquialisms or human nuances, I am ancient and have a considerable amount of knowledge.”
“Yeah?” He tossed the rest of the paper towels aside.
“Yes. And it takes a surprisingly small amount of that knowledge to get you out of your pants.”
Dean inched his own chair closer in a couple of short jerks until Cas’ knees were slotted in between his own and he could feel the heat coming off them.
“Are you callin’ me easy?” Dean placed his palms flat on Cas’ knees and squeezed tightly.
Castiel leaned forward, his face stopping a few millimeters away from Dean’s. “Are you implying you are not?”
Dean was slightly cross-eyed looking at Cas so close. He reached up and touched the sunglasses. “Are your eyes closed?”
“Yes.”
Dean pulled the glasses off and tossed them down on the table. True to his word, Castiel’s dark lashes were fanned out against his skin, eyes closed. Neither Dean nor Castiel knew it, nor would they care, but women cried for lashes like that. They might even kill for them. Rich, inky, soft. Perfectly spaced. Dean ran one hand up the side of Cas’ neck and sunk his fingers into the short, thick hair and gripped tightly, the other hand still holding Cas’ knee. He tipped his head and pulled Cas in, settling his lips carefully, precisely.
It wasn’t as though you could have a favorite lip, that would be stupid, but if you could, Dean would totally pick Cas’ bottom lip. It just fit between his lips so well. And it put Dean’s own bottom lip in the soft swell between Cas’ lip and the start of his chin. There was always a little bit of roughness there, magical angelic shaving aside, that never quite got smooth and it prickled. Dean opened his mouth but before he could slide his tongue out, Cas pulled back slightly and turned his head to the side. He was still close enough that Dean could feel the twitch of his lips as he tried not to smile. Dean used the hand threaded through Cas’ hair to try and turn the angel’s head back. It was like pulling against a cement post. Dean pushed up and tried to get his face in front of Castiel’s and Cas simply turned his head the other way.
“Tease,” Dean breathed into his ear.
Cas’ lips finally brushed against his. “I am not teasing you,” Castiel said softly. His tongue darted out and grazed against Dean’s lower lip. Dean surged forward, attempting to catch him off guard, but Cas felt the intention in Dean’s body milliseconds before it happened and he leaned back, just out of touch. “If you don’t always get what you want,” he continued with a lightning fast lick against Dean’s chin that went straight down, “when you want it,” another quick lick on the opposite earlobe, “then you want it more and when you finally get it,” his knee pressed against the inside of Dean’s thigh and Dean blew out a hot breath. “it’s even better.”
“Sneaky fucking angel is sneaky,” he hissed into Cas’ ear.
Cas brushed the tip of his nose up against the side of Dean’s face, reveling in the rough texture of the stubble against the sensitive skin. “And even if that were not true, I can hardly be accused of being a tease. I am, how did you put it?” He paused, flipping through millennia of memory to pull a certain set of Dean’s words from his impressive recollection. “A sure thing.”
He kissed Dean hard and Dean’s mouth immediately fell open. Cas’ tongue ran along the inside, sliding across the hot flesh. And it tasted like Cas and like pie and like everything he never knew he always wanted and thought he couldn’t have.
He felt Cas tap two fingers on his forehead and they were upstairs and man, that does not get old. Sometimes it made Dean a little dizzy to think that no matter where they were or what they were doing in the literal blink of an eye, they can be elsewhere doing this. Without thinking, he blurted something like that out loud and Cas actually chuckled. Lips on lips, he backed Cas up against the bed carefully, mindful of the fact that he couldn’t see and was completely trusting Dean to move him where he needed to be. When Cas’ calves hit the bed, his knees buckled and Dean eased him down on to the mattress, climbing on top of him.
Cas loved the way Dean felt on top of him. Strangely confining in the best way possible, heavy, solid, and all he can hear is Dean and all he can touch is Dean and all he can smell is Dean and this was what he was fighting for. It seemed ludicrous at times like this that he ever thought he didn’t have a reason to fight for humanity when Dean was a part of it. Dean with his calloused hands that ran over his ribcage and up under his shirt, and yanked it over Cas’ head. Dean and his perfect mouth that he used to suck at Cas’ neck and his collarbone. Hot pressure points that were his favorite. Cas snaked his hand up Dean’s shirt, reveled at the hot skin spread tight across muscle and bone. It made Cas want to weep at times, the carelessness with which Dean treated his body. His perfect body, perfect even with new scars, breaks and bruises, that Cas loved dearly. This body that made him ache in his heart and in his groin. His hips bucked up and Dean snapped his back in response, pressed down hard, harder than he should if Cas was mortal, as if Dean’s desire is stronger than the average human body could take. Cas pulled at the fabric of Dean’s shirt deforming the shape and Dean pulled away long enough to jerk it over his head and toss it absently behind him. He fell back on top of Cas and Cas gasped at the first feeling of his hot chest pressed up against Dean’s.
Cas loved all parts of being with Dean, each with its own special stamp. This part, before all the clothes were shed, he loved because it was all still heat and promise and unbridled want. Dean’s knees straddled his hips, his weight split between the mattress and Castiel. Dean unbuttoned the jeans that Cas was still not quite used to, stiff denim made soft at the button and zipper from years of wear, molded to fit Dean’s body and not his own. But he loved being in Dean’s clothes, clothes that still held the scent of Dean even after they’ve been laundered. His erection pressed against the fabric, and it felt so much more… delicious against the hard denim.
He was pretty much sold on jeans now.
Dean’s hot hand slid past the open waistband, underneath the soft cotton of underwear and then pressed up against Castiel’s cock. By now Dean knew exactly what to do to make Cas’ hips buck and writhe underneath him. Cas moaned into Dean’s mouth and the sound made Dean kiss him harder, faster, like he was trying to hold Cas down to the bed with only his lips and his hand. Without being able to open his eyes, he focused on Dean’s breathing, hot and damp against his lips, his ear, his neck. And Dean’s hand, fevered against his dick, pulling and pressing and pumping. Dean’s lips were against his clavicle and Cas heard his own voice repeating Dean’s name over and over again. He grabbed Dean’s hand and sucked on the long digits and he heard Dean moan, long and low.
Cas expected it would be different without his sight and somehow less but it was almost more. He didn’t know which sensation to focus on in lieu of being able to see. Sound, taste, touch and smell all jockeyed for top billing. He fumbled with Dean’s jeans, finally cracking open the waistband and zipper. He thrust his hands down the back, pushed the fabric out of the way and grabbed at the firm flesh there.
Dean pulled back left Cas’ chest cold with the absence.
“Hang on, hang on,” Dean muttered, and he tugged hard on Cas’ jeans and underwear, worked them down his legs and Cas heard the fabric hit the floor with a soft thwump. He heard more fabric sliding and then Dean was on top of him again, naked and it was glorious. He didn’t understand why humans had so many issues with sex. Why would it be so wonderful if it was not to be enjoyed?
Dean licked Cas’ lips and Cas grabbed the back of his head and crushed their mouths together, wanting Dean’s tongue as deep in his mouth as it would go. He wrapped his knees around Dean’s waist, pulled him closer, their dicks rubbing against each other, and he heard Dean gasp and groan. This part he loved because they were beyond words and it was all unintelligent syllables, grunts and pants, skin sliding against skin, hands grabbing, pulling and pinching wherever they want to, wherever they can reach.
He felt the absence of one of Dean’s hands and he heard him fumble with the nightstand drawer, pulling his lips from Cas with a mumbled curse as he had to lean out to reach the lube and Castiel can see Dean in his minds eye, nude, muscles stretched taut as he extended to let his deft fingers grab what he wanted.
He heard the snap of the lid and he shivered exquisitely with the knowledge of what was about to come. Dean ran slick fingers over his hole, teasing around and over, and Cas’ panting breaths came out short and stuttered. Dean pushed one finger in and then two, swirled his digits and scissored, lapped at Cas’ neck while he did. Cas dug his fingers into Dean’s flank, leaving marks that wouldn’t fade for days, weeks, and it took most of his power to remember that Dean is mortal and if he forgot, he could truly hurt him. That thought made Cas’ chest ache and a low keening noise escape from his throat. A sound caused by the beauty of all things Dean.
Dean heard the low sound and captured it with his mouth, cradling the base of Cas’ spine with one hand as he lined himself up with the other. He nudged his way in, punctuating his movements with hot, wet, slightly sloppy kisses. Dean rested his head against Cas’ forehead as he pushed in further, their damp breaths mingling. Cas gripped Dean’s neck, his shoulders, his back, his ass, anywhere he could reach and when Dean was finally seated deep inside him, he pulled Dean’s head in and bit his lower lip hard. Dean groaned and his hips jerked automatically, which in turn made Cas buck upward. Dean pressed him down, drawing the moment out. Waiting.
This he loved because Dean inside him made him feel so many things at once. Desire, lust, want, love, weight, pleasure, pain, open and powerful. He knew he was in an extreme position of vulnerability, but he never felt unsafe. He trusted Dean with so much more than just his body. But that Dean trusted him, that Dean allowed himself to want and pant, gasp and moan and sometimes beg, made Castiel wonder why he ever thought he wasn’t invincible. He knew that if he could open his eyes, he would see Dean, hovered above him, eyes screwed shut, lips pursed. He could feel Dean’s shoulders and hip tense as he waited for Cas to adjust. Cas rocked his hips, forcing the motion until Dean couldn’t take it anymore and he pushed back. Dean pulled out and thrust back in, again and again, hitting the tight bundle of nerves deep within Cas. Cas threw his head back, arching his spine hard, baring his neck and Dean leant forward and bit at the soft, tender skin and sucked on his Adam’s apple, small blood vessels breaking under the strain. Cas’ voice became a pattern of “please, yes, Dean, please” and he couldn’t form any other words. He could hear low sounds coming from Dean, like soughs in trees. Deep, rushing, strong and everyone of them raced down his veins and pooled in low in his belly.
Dean’s hand wrapped around Castiel’s cock, and pulled, tugged, twisted. Perfect movements that had Cas arching back farther and drew deep sounds from his throat.
“I love how you sound. Fuck you feel good,” Dean murmured against his throat, moving his lips up to Cas mouth, thrusting his tongue in time with his hips. “Are you going to come for me?”
“Yes.” The word came out fervently, ardently, broken. His world was DeanDeanDean and he didn’t want anything else. Ever. Dean inside him, Dean around him, Dean on top of him, Dean sucking his tongue and pulling his dick and thrusting into his ass and moaning into his ear.
He came hard with a sharp jolt and shout, thick streams of come spurting between them, slicking up their stomachs. Dean’s hand wrenched out every last drop and Dean gasped at the movement and sound.
Dean managed a few more hard, sharp thrusts and then he came fast, biting down hard on Castiel bottom lip, surging hot and deep in Castiel. The feeling made Cas jump his hips again, as if is body didn't realize that it had already worn itself out. Dean fell on top of him and licked his neck.
“Don’t leave.”
He sometimes said that afterward and it had taken a while for Cas to realize that he didn’t mean right now. He meant ever.
Castiel loved the heavy sensation that almost stole his breath. It made him feel warm that Dean trusted him.
“I won’t.” He kissed Dean’s lips.
Dean rolled off him, leaned over the bed and grabbed a t-shirt and toweled them off. He tossed the shirt in a corner and Cas snaked out an arm and a leg to pull him in. Dean hardly ever, if at all, initiated the post-coital cuddling, but he never turned it away. Cas knew he loved it, he just didn’t want to ask for it. The angel was more than happy to drape a leg over Dean’s lower body and throw an arm over his chest. He dropped his head to Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s legs shifted to let Cas’ fall in between and his hand came up automatically to rest over the angel’s forearm.
Dean titled his head to look at Cas’ face. Not to get all chick-flick, but it did kind of bum Dean out that he can’t see Cas’ eyes. It wasn’t too bad having a conversation when the sunglasses were on, but when the glasses were off and Cas just kept his eyes closed… And it wasn’t all emotion-y or think-y (shut it, it wasn’t), Dean liked the color of Cas’ eyes. He liked it a lot. And he liked it when they were focused on him and nothing else. He liked it when he looked Cas and and saw Cas staring back at him, like Cas knew him and was happy with what he saw.
“They will be finished healing soon,” Cas murmured.
“Stay out of my head.”
“I was not in your head, but I can feel it titled toward mine. I assumed you were staring at me.”
“Smart ass.”
“Go to sleep, Dean.”
Cas felt Dean’s body tense slightly. “Cas?”
“I love you too, Dean. Go to sleep.”
* * * *
“Hello, Castiel.”
Castiel turned his face toward the kitchen.
“Alecto.”
He could almost feel her smile. While she, of course, wasn’t a deity as the Ancients had believed, she was infused with a certain power that fluxed through the room echoing her emotions.
She didn’t move any quieter than humans did, although he got the impression that was for his benefit, since he didn’t recall her making any noise at all the first night he met her. He felt the couch dip slightly as she sat down next to him.
“Sight not back yet?”
“It has nearly returned. Sometime this week, I expect.”
“I’m glad,” she replied truthfully. “As promised, I’ve considered your offer of an alliance and on behalf of all the Furies, I accept.”
“I am pleased.”
“Me too. And as my first order of business as one of your official allies, I would like to offer you a gift.”
“That is not necessary.”
“I know. Close your eyes and lean toward me please.”
He did as she asked, without fear. He felt her place a hand on either side of his face and then she gently tipped his head slightly forward. He felt her lips press against one eyelid, and then the other. She released him, and sat back.
“Open your eyes, God Creature.”
She had restored the remainder of his sight.
The first thing he saw was Dean standing behind her in the open doorway, stock still. Before Castiel could open his mouth, Dean had his gun drawn and the barrel of it was pressed to the back of Alecto’s head.
“Dean Winchester,” she sighed. Dean couldn’t see it, but she closed her eyes and seemed to bask for a moment, like a cat in a sunny patch.
“Dean.” Castiel’s voice was low and even. “This is Alecto, the Fury. She and her sisters have accepted our alliance.”
“Fantastic. Keep your fucking paws off him.” He jabbed the gun into her skull.
“She was restoring my sight.”
“Which she wouldn’t have had to do if she hadn’t fucking taken your eyes in the first place.” He dug the barrel a little harder into the mass of blue-black waves of hair and she gasped. It sounded like fear but Castiel could see her lips curling up into a perfect smile.
She opened her eyes and looked at Castiel. “His rage is wonderful.”
“Dean.” Castiel flicked his perfect eyes at Dean. Dean took a moment to examine the color. They were exactly the same. Lucky bitch.
“I don’t mind,” said Alecto easily. “He can shoot me if it makes him feel better. It won’t kill me.”
Well, that took the fun out of it.
“Don’t fucking tempt me,” said Dean as he clicked the safety on and tucked the gun back into its holster.
Alecto stood and turned to face him. She wasn’t petite, but she wasn’t a giant either. If he had to describe her from the neck down, he would have said average. Average height, average build, average rack. She was even in average clothes, dark jeans, black baby-doll tee and tennis shoes. From the neck up was an entirely different story. She had faultless porcelain skin and a perfect Ancient Grecian nose, impeccably straight and almost dainty. It stopped just above her cupid’s bow pink mouth and her pert little chin.
Her eyes though, made him shiver. Darker and deeper yellow than Azazel’s, they were still none-the-less in the definitively yellow family. And slightly round. Like an owl. She didn’t blink either while he stared at her.
And it fucking creeped him out. Eyes should not be that color. Ever.
“You may punch me if you like.”
That pissed him off too, but he was never one to say no to a lady. Despite Castiel’s sharp shout, Dean hauled off and clocked her hard in the jaw, not pulling it a bit. Her head rotated sharply on her neck and when it snapped back to face him, she was smiling, her white teeth stained a beautiful red, blood pouring out of her mouth. She held up a finger, like he should just wait a moment while she closed her mouth, worked her tongue around for a bit and then turned her head slightly, spitting two teeth and a mouthful of blood into a left over mug on the coffee table.
“Again?” she asked hopefully.
He shrugged like it didn’t really matter and hit her again. This time she stumbled back slightly.
“Stop!” Castiel gave Dean a look as he took a step toward the Fury.
She was laughing, fucking laughing. “No, no,” she chuckled waving Cas away casually. She wiped her hand across her jaw and leaving a bloody streak along her face. “It’s perfect. Strike me Cronus, it’s perfect.” She giggled as she touched her fingers to her split lip and then darted her tongue out to lick up the blood. “Your rage is fantastic up close,” she exclaimed, yellow eyes alighting on Dean. “Simply fantastic. Better than I could have hoped for.” Her girlish giggles ended on a long sigh as she eyed Dean. “Oh, I could just eat you up!” She licked at the blood on her lips once more. “Well, boys, it’s been fun, but I need to be going.” She glanced at Castiel and bat her eyelashes. “I don’t suppose I could have a feather?”
As Dean lunged for her, she squealed playfully and darted out of the way, laughing. “You are too perfect, Dean Winchester,” she exclaimed and he realized she was fucking teasing him. She turned back to Castiel, still smiling. “I trust you will teach him how to summon us?”
“Yes. We will not abuse the knowledge.”
“Oh, honey, it’s been so long since we were called for by name, abuse away.” She winked at Dean. “I’ll always be hungry for this one. He gets so angry! All the time! It’s like a buffet!”
“Get out before I take you up on the offer to shoot you. I’ll go for the face,” Dean warned.
She grinned and it was a little lusty. “Promises, promises.”
And then she was gone.
Dean stepped toward Cas and grabbed his chin, examining the angel’s eyes.
“Do they work?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes. They are perfect.”
Damn straight, they were. Dean nodded once. “Okay then.”
Cas gripped Dean’s hips. “While it’s pleasing to see your countenance again, I will miss you taking care of me. You are an excellent care giver. ” Cas was rewarded by watching the flush creep up Dean’s neck and across his face. He loved that pink rush.
Dean waggled his eyebrows comically, trying to brush off the moment. “Yeah? Maybe you might need some care giving right now.” He kissed Cas hard on the lips.
Cas kissed him back and then placed his hands on either side of Dean’s face. Dean recognized the look in Cas’ eyes as a Chick Flick moment waiting to happen and tried to jerk away but Cas held his head still.
“When I start to lose my faith in humanity again, I will remember that I must only look to you to have it restored. You are the manifestation of all that is to be revered of humanity.” Dean tried to pull away and Cas could see he was scared. “Don’t,” he said forcefully, keeping Dean focused on his face. “Don’t say anything, don’t pull away.” He kissed Dean once, almost chastely and then pulled back.
“I will race you to bed.”
Rating: R
Warnings: None. Unless you count schmoop. Probably NSFW.
Spoilers: S4
Continued from Part One
“And so they found He-who-will-not-be-named, staked him and salted and burned the motherfucker. And then Harry and Hermionie got it on.”
“Dean.” Cas really didn’t have to say anything else. The soft reprimand in his tone was sufficient to make Dean slightly sheepish. Sam stifled a chuckle from the corner of the room.
“Well, that’s what they should have done!”
Silence.
“I can’t believe you are even reading this.”
“You expressed a desire for me to immerse myself in pop culture. This was the most popular series at the store. And you proclaimed you would not do any research online regarding the Congo African Grey Parrot.”
“Stupid fucking bird,” he grumbled, itching at his bandage. “I’m probably contaminated.”
“Considering all the things you have fought against, I do not believe you will suffer any long term effects from Moses.” Castiel paused while Dean not-so-silently groused for a few more seconds. “You offered to read to me. This is the book I am reading. I am looking forward to continuing the young wizards’ adventures. They are young and brave and trying always to do the right thing. I find it charming and somewhat… moving.”
Well, now he felt like a douche for making fun of it. He looked down at Castiel’s face. He was lying on the sofa with his head in Dean’s lap. He waited patiently for Dean to begin reading, hands folded and resting on his chest.
“Additionally, I do not believe that Harry and Hermione have any romantic interest in each other.”
“Seriously?”
“I suspect she holds an affection for Ronald Weasley.”
“The red headed kid?” Dean was immediately sucked back into Harry Potter and started flipping pages randomly looking for Ron’s name. He was speechless. Harry was way cooler than Ron. And rich. He would totally pick Harry. He paused. There was no way he just thought that.
“You know if I met him in real life, I would stake him, right? He’s a witch.”
“A wizard,” Cas clarified. “And he is a good wizard.”
“No such thing.”
Another silence.
“All right, fine.” Dean sighed, long and drawn out. “Chapter Four, The Leaky Cauldron...” he read aloud.
* * * *
Dean straightened and looked up expectantly when Sam came back in, loaded down with grocery bags.
“Did you get pie?”
“Dude, when have I ever forgotten the pie?”
Dean gave him the hairy eyeball. Sam scrunched up his face. Bitchface. Cas remained silent from where he sat at the small, square kitchen table, sunglasses perched on his nose.
“One time, one time I forgot the pie. Could you let it go?” Sam set the grocery bags down on the cheap formica counter.
“I had just gotten back from hell, and you forgot pie,” Dean accused, starting to rifle through the bags.
“Well then, this is my mulligan, because I got two pies,” he said triumphantly and with a flourish pulled them out. Cherry and pecan.
Dean was still suspicious.
“Is there ice cream?”
“Please,” Sam scoffed and produced a small bucket of quickly melting vanilla ice cream. Dean grabbed both pies, two spoons, plates and the ice cream and sat kiddy corner next to Cas at the table.
“Pie for dinner.” He was triumphant. He leaned back and snagged two sodas from the fridge, cracking them both open with the snap-hiss of fresh pop.
“I was under the impression that one could not eat just pie for dinner.”
“You can if you eat enough of it.”
“Don’t worry, Cas,” interjected Sam. “I got you a salad too.”
“I would like the salad as well, thank you, Sam.”
“Pie first, salad later,” proclaimed Dean. “If at all,” he added under his breath.
“Without the use of my sight, my hearing has improved greatly.”
Sam snorted and snagged two of the grocery bags with the pinky finger of one hand, while he grabbed a beer from the fridge with the other.
“Are you not joining us for pie?”
It was kind of creepy how good Castiel was at interpreting what he was hearing and translating it into what was going on. Especially since human nuances weren’t his ‘thing.’
Sam looked dubiously at Dean, then at the pies and then back to Castiel. “Uh… the thing is…” he trailed off not quite sure how to tell the angel that Dean made really awkward, blush worthy sounds even when he was eating pie in a room full of people, never mind two full pies. With an angel. Who was likely going to need help eating the pie. Help from Dean. Who loved pie. And the angel too. And now Sam was back to feeling really squicked out and uncomfortable again, like he had been in the bakery when he had to choose which pies to get in the first place. He had no doubt that Dean’s intentions were (somewhat, mostly, okay probably not) pure and he really was having Pie Night to do something nice for Castiel. Just as he no doubt that he was getting the hell out of the kitchen before those pies came out of the box.
“I’ve got… a thing. With some stuff. And it’s in the other…” He gave a quick smile that was totally lost on the sightless angel. “Enjoy your pie.”
And Sam Winchester got the hell outta Dodge.
Dean shrugged. More pie for them.
“Does Sam not like pie?” Castiel had turned his head to the direction in which Sam had just departed.
“Dude, that guy has more problems than you can shake a stick at. Twitchy. His loss is our pie gain.”
Castiel had turned back around, his face directed toward the table. Both hands were resting on the wooden table, palms down, his head titled slightly, as if he was cocking one ear to hear Dean better.
“You have to take the pie out of the foil container, otherwise you get a funny taste in your mouth if the spoon has touched it,” Dean was instructing as he cut a piece of pecan pie and attempted to get it out of the pie plate without destroying the pristine triangle. He jammed the spoon underneath the crust and only succeeded in causing a crusty fault line to break across the top of the pie, little crumbs flying off.
“Motherfucker…” he muttered as he shoehorned the pie out in a mangled lump of sugary goodness onto the plate. He scooped out the remainder of the triangle slice and with a ‘thwack’ it landed on the plate.
“Is the pie not to your liking?”
“Look, it doesn’t matter what it looks like, okay? It all tastes the same.” He sucked a dollop of filling off his thumb.
A quizzical look came over Castiel’s face. “Of course it doesn’t matter what it looks like. I cannot see it.”
Dean scooped up a healthy serving of ice cream and slopped it down on the pie. “Nobody gets the first slice out in one piece anyhow. But with enough ice cream it doesn’t matter.”
He slid the plate over to Castiel, bumping it slightly against the angel’s fingers. Cas immediately pulled his hands off the table and settled them in his lap.
“Why is having pie for dinner so decadent?”
“Cuz it’s bad for you,” Dean answered easily, spooning up a large bite. “It’s too much sugar and no nutritional value, and it’s like you didn’t earn it by eating a bunch of vegetables first.” He held the spoonful up in front of Castiel and was about to order him to open up when Cas spoke again.
“And you would wish to do this every evening?”
“No, not every evening or it wouldn’t be special.” He inched the spoon closer to Castiel’s mouth.
“So you don’t have pie every night in order to preserve it’s significance.”
“Yeah, it like, if you don’t always get what you want when you want it, you want it more and then when you finally get it, it’s even better.”
“I see,” replied Castiel thoughtfully. Dean swore he could see the hamster in Cas’ brain going mad inside a tiny metal wheel.
“There’s too much talking and not enough pie eating going on here.”
When Castiel opened his mouth again to speak, Dean shoved pie in.
Dark eyebrows shot up in surprise, but his lips closed reflexively around the spoon and Dean slid the silver utensil out, while Castiel turned the pie and ice cream over in his mouth thoughtfully. He took a long time, getting pie on what must certainly be every single taste-bud on his tongue. Dean’s mouth fell open a little bit just watching it. Finally, Castiel swallowed.
“What kind of pie is this?”
“Pecan. Awesome, right?”
“Why have we never had this kind of pie before?”
Dean grinned at the near reverential yet slightly accusatory tone. “Like it?”
“It is very… smooth. And sweet. And perhaps slightly…” he ran his tongue over the inside of his mouth again, so very carefully and Dean leaned a little farther forward. “Salty.”
Dean exhaled a slow breath. It was just pie. Just two dudes eating pie. Pie, pie, pie. Focus on the pie. He’d been a saint for the past couple of days because, frankly, it felt a little lecherous to put the moves on a blind guy and Cas had still seemed… remote at times. It could have been that he was just focusing more on his other senses without the use of his eyes, or perhaps he was even more perplexed without the visual input. At any rate, after years of being prodded, pushed and emotionally poked by Sam, Dean knew what it was like to want a little space and time to figure some shit out. So he hadn’t pushed. That was him. Mr. Sensitivity.
And now he was staring at Cas’ lips as his tongue darted out to capture the last taste of pie like he was a fourteen year old girl at a Twilight convention. Cas turned his head expectantly toward Dean.
“Dean.”
“Yes?” Please yes.
Another pause, and then a head tilt. “Is there no more pie?”
Dean’s body jerked a little. “Uh, no, I mean, yes, I mean, there’s more pie.”
He carved another large bite, careful to get both pie and ice cream on the spoon (because dammit, it was an art) and held the spoon up toward Cas’ lips.
It foolishly didn’t occur to him until the spoon was hovering there for a moment and Cas hadn’t yet opened his mouth, that Cas couldn’t see the spoon.
And suddenly everything that came to mind to say sounded really, really, really fucking dirty.
He moved the spoon in closer and brushed it against the soft edges of Castiel’s lips, smearing them with corn syrup and cream. He didn’t even mean for it to be provocative.
Okay, maybe just a little.
He was going to hell. Again.
He looked away from Cas. Depressed Cas. Cas he was trying to help. And he wasn’t going to fuck it up (ha!) by fucking it up.
The spoon slid in between the angel’s lips and as before, his lips closed tight around the metal as Dean pulled it slowly out. At this point, Dean thought he might be sweating a little. Castiel again rolled the confection around his mouth, like he had to catalogue each individual sensation and taste in case he never got the chance again. He swallowed. Dean reminded himself men don’t cry, men don’t cry. Except for the manly tear of doom. Which was, as the name implied, manly. In a moment of panic, he shoveled an impossible amount of pie in his own mouth.
Damn, it was good pie. As good as store bought can get. If he wasn’t going to get anything else tonight, he was going to eat massive amounts of pie, god-dammit. He ignored his own sage council from earlier and gouged out an obscene chunk from the pie tin, not caring that the spoon had touched the foil plate.
“I enjoy the texture of this pie,” intoned Castiel lowly, and now that Dean had sex on the brain, it’s like Cas’ voice had a direct line to his groin. His voice was a reminder of dark nights and whispered words and tangled limbs. “It is heavy and dense.” Castiel licked his lips. “And velvety.”
“Holy fuck,” Dean blurted, and he almost drooled onto his own lap.
“Is something wrong?”
Dean forced in more pie. “No.” His voice was muffled around the food. It really was amazing how much pie you could get into your mouth in such a short amount of time.
“Are you eating the rest of my pie?”
“It’s our pie!”
Castiel reached out tentatively and his hand collided with one of the cans of soda pop, knocking it over and sending it spilling over the edge of the table and into Dean’s lap. Dean cursed at the sharp splash of cold carbonation.
“Fuck!”
“I am sorry, Dean.”
Dean didn’t look up as he grabbed a roll of paper towels from the corner of the table. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s fine.” He started mopping up the mess on the table before it seeped over the other edge and dribbled on Cas. He piled the soggy mess on the far corner of the table. He wound another set of small not-so-absorbent rectangles around his hand and tried to dab at his jeans. Without touching too much of his lower body.
“Perhaps you should remove your pants.”
Dean was wiping ineffectually at the denim, accomplishing absolutely nothing. “No, it’s fine,” he repeated. “It’s not that…” he looked up sharply.
Castiel was leaning far over the corner of the table, encroaching into Dean’s space. He had a slight quizzical look on his face.
“You did not just do that on purpose.”
The corners of Cas’ lips quirked and in one slow movement he scooched his chair closer to Dean’s, bumping his knees up against the other’s. Dean could see himself reflected in the shiny surface of the sunglasses Cas wore. “It is endearing how you forget that while I may not always understand common colloquialisms or human nuances, I am ancient and have a considerable amount of knowledge.”
“Yeah?” He tossed the rest of the paper towels aside.
“Yes. And it takes a surprisingly small amount of that knowledge to get you out of your pants.”
Dean inched his own chair closer in a couple of short jerks until Cas’ knees were slotted in between his own and he could feel the heat coming off them.
“Are you callin’ me easy?” Dean placed his palms flat on Cas’ knees and squeezed tightly.
Castiel leaned forward, his face stopping a few millimeters away from Dean’s. “Are you implying you are not?”
Dean was slightly cross-eyed looking at Cas so close. He reached up and touched the sunglasses. “Are your eyes closed?”
“Yes.”
Dean pulled the glasses off and tossed them down on the table. True to his word, Castiel’s dark lashes were fanned out against his skin, eyes closed. Neither Dean nor Castiel knew it, nor would they care, but women cried for lashes like that. They might even kill for them. Rich, inky, soft. Perfectly spaced. Dean ran one hand up the side of Cas’ neck and sunk his fingers into the short, thick hair and gripped tightly, the other hand still holding Cas’ knee. He tipped his head and pulled Cas in, settling his lips carefully, precisely.
It wasn’t as though you could have a favorite lip, that would be stupid, but if you could, Dean would totally pick Cas’ bottom lip. It just fit between his lips so well. And it put Dean’s own bottom lip in the soft swell between Cas’ lip and the start of his chin. There was always a little bit of roughness there, magical angelic shaving aside, that never quite got smooth and it prickled. Dean opened his mouth but before he could slide his tongue out, Cas pulled back slightly and turned his head to the side. He was still close enough that Dean could feel the twitch of his lips as he tried not to smile. Dean used the hand threaded through Cas’ hair to try and turn the angel’s head back. It was like pulling against a cement post. Dean pushed up and tried to get his face in front of Castiel’s and Cas simply turned his head the other way.
“Tease,” Dean breathed into his ear.
Cas’ lips finally brushed against his. “I am not teasing you,” Castiel said softly. His tongue darted out and grazed against Dean’s lower lip. Dean surged forward, attempting to catch him off guard, but Cas felt the intention in Dean’s body milliseconds before it happened and he leaned back, just out of touch. “If you don’t always get what you want,” he continued with a lightning fast lick against Dean’s chin that went straight down, “when you want it,” another quick lick on the opposite earlobe, “then you want it more and when you finally get it,” his knee pressed against the inside of Dean’s thigh and Dean blew out a hot breath. “it’s even better.”
“Sneaky fucking angel is sneaky,” he hissed into Cas’ ear.
Cas brushed the tip of his nose up against the side of Dean’s face, reveling in the rough texture of the stubble against the sensitive skin. “And even if that were not true, I can hardly be accused of being a tease. I am, how did you put it?” He paused, flipping through millennia of memory to pull a certain set of Dean’s words from his impressive recollection. “A sure thing.”
He kissed Dean hard and Dean’s mouth immediately fell open. Cas’ tongue ran along the inside, sliding across the hot flesh. And it tasted like Cas and like pie and like everything he never knew he always wanted and thought he couldn’t have.
He felt Cas tap two fingers on his forehead and they were upstairs and man, that does not get old. Sometimes it made Dean a little dizzy to think that no matter where they were or what they were doing in the literal blink of an eye, they can be elsewhere doing this. Without thinking, he blurted something like that out loud and Cas actually chuckled. Lips on lips, he backed Cas up against the bed carefully, mindful of the fact that he couldn’t see and was completely trusting Dean to move him where he needed to be. When Cas’ calves hit the bed, his knees buckled and Dean eased him down on to the mattress, climbing on top of him.
Cas loved the way Dean felt on top of him. Strangely confining in the best way possible, heavy, solid, and all he can hear is Dean and all he can touch is Dean and all he can smell is Dean and this was what he was fighting for. It seemed ludicrous at times like this that he ever thought he didn’t have a reason to fight for humanity when Dean was a part of it. Dean with his calloused hands that ran over his ribcage and up under his shirt, and yanked it over Cas’ head. Dean and his perfect mouth that he used to suck at Cas’ neck and his collarbone. Hot pressure points that were his favorite. Cas snaked his hand up Dean’s shirt, reveled at the hot skin spread tight across muscle and bone. It made Cas want to weep at times, the carelessness with which Dean treated his body. His perfect body, perfect even with new scars, breaks and bruises, that Cas loved dearly. This body that made him ache in his heart and in his groin. His hips bucked up and Dean snapped his back in response, pressed down hard, harder than he should if Cas was mortal, as if Dean’s desire is stronger than the average human body could take. Cas pulled at the fabric of Dean’s shirt deforming the shape and Dean pulled away long enough to jerk it over his head and toss it absently behind him. He fell back on top of Cas and Cas gasped at the first feeling of his hot chest pressed up against Dean’s.
Cas loved all parts of being with Dean, each with its own special stamp. This part, before all the clothes were shed, he loved because it was all still heat and promise and unbridled want. Dean’s knees straddled his hips, his weight split between the mattress and Castiel. Dean unbuttoned the jeans that Cas was still not quite used to, stiff denim made soft at the button and zipper from years of wear, molded to fit Dean’s body and not his own. But he loved being in Dean’s clothes, clothes that still held the scent of Dean even after they’ve been laundered. His erection pressed against the fabric, and it felt so much more… delicious against the hard denim.
He was pretty much sold on jeans now.
Dean’s hot hand slid past the open waistband, underneath the soft cotton of underwear and then pressed up against Castiel’s cock. By now Dean knew exactly what to do to make Cas’ hips buck and writhe underneath him. Cas moaned into Dean’s mouth and the sound made Dean kiss him harder, faster, like he was trying to hold Cas down to the bed with only his lips and his hand. Without being able to open his eyes, he focused on Dean’s breathing, hot and damp against his lips, his ear, his neck. And Dean’s hand, fevered against his dick, pulling and pressing and pumping. Dean’s lips were against his clavicle and Cas heard his own voice repeating Dean’s name over and over again. He grabbed Dean’s hand and sucked on the long digits and he heard Dean moan, long and low.
Cas expected it would be different without his sight and somehow less but it was almost more. He didn’t know which sensation to focus on in lieu of being able to see. Sound, taste, touch and smell all jockeyed for top billing. He fumbled with Dean’s jeans, finally cracking open the waistband and zipper. He thrust his hands down the back, pushed the fabric out of the way and grabbed at the firm flesh there.
Dean pulled back left Cas’ chest cold with the absence.
“Hang on, hang on,” Dean muttered, and he tugged hard on Cas’ jeans and underwear, worked them down his legs and Cas heard the fabric hit the floor with a soft thwump. He heard more fabric sliding and then Dean was on top of him again, naked and it was glorious. He didn’t understand why humans had so many issues with sex. Why would it be so wonderful if it was not to be enjoyed?
Dean licked Cas’ lips and Cas grabbed the back of his head and crushed their mouths together, wanting Dean’s tongue as deep in his mouth as it would go. He wrapped his knees around Dean’s waist, pulled him closer, their dicks rubbing against each other, and he heard Dean gasp and groan. This part he loved because they were beyond words and it was all unintelligent syllables, grunts and pants, skin sliding against skin, hands grabbing, pulling and pinching wherever they want to, wherever they can reach.
He felt the absence of one of Dean’s hands and he heard him fumble with the nightstand drawer, pulling his lips from Cas with a mumbled curse as he had to lean out to reach the lube and Castiel can see Dean in his minds eye, nude, muscles stretched taut as he extended to let his deft fingers grab what he wanted.
He heard the snap of the lid and he shivered exquisitely with the knowledge of what was about to come. Dean ran slick fingers over his hole, teasing around and over, and Cas’ panting breaths came out short and stuttered. Dean pushed one finger in and then two, swirled his digits and scissored, lapped at Cas’ neck while he did. Cas dug his fingers into Dean’s flank, leaving marks that wouldn’t fade for days, weeks, and it took most of his power to remember that Dean is mortal and if he forgot, he could truly hurt him. That thought made Cas’ chest ache and a low keening noise escape from his throat. A sound caused by the beauty of all things Dean.
Dean heard the low sound and captured it with his mouth, cradling the base of Cas’ spine with one hand as he lined himself up with the other. He nudged his way in, punctuating his movements with hot, wet, slightly sloppy kisses. Dean rested his head against Cas’ forehead as he pushed in further, their damp breaths mingling. Cas gripped Dean’s neck, his shoulders, his back, his ass, anywhere he could reach and when Dean was finally seated deep inside him, he pulled Dean’s head in and bit his lower lip hard. Dean groaned and his hips jerked automatically, which in turn made Cas buck upward. Dean pressed him down, drawing the moment out. Waiting.
This he loved because Dean inside him made him feel so many things at once. Desire, lust, want, love, weight, pleasure, pain, open and powerful. He knew he was in an extreme position of vulnerability, but he never felt unsafe. He trusted Dean with so much more than just his body. But that Dean trusted him, that Dean allowed himself to want and pant, gasp and moan and sometimes beg, made Castiel wonder why he ever thought he wasn’t invincible. He knew that if he could open his eyes, he would see Dean, hovered above him, eyes screwed shut, lips pursed. He could feel Dean’s shoulders and hip tense as he waited for Cas to adjust. Cas rocked his hips, forcing the motion until Dean couldn’t take it anymore and he pushed back. Dean pulled out and thrust back in, again and again, hitting the tight bundle of nerves deep within Cas. Cas threw his head back, arching his spine hard, baring his neck and Dean leant forward and bit at the soft, tender skin and sucked on his Adam’s apple, small blood vessels breaking under the strain. Cas’ voice became a pattern of “please, yes, Dean, please” and he couldn’t form any other words. He could hear low sounds coming from Dean, like soughs in trees. Deep, rushing, strong and everyone of them raced down his veins and pooled in low in his belly.
Dean’s hand wrapped around Castiel’s cock, and pulled, tugged, twisted. Perfect movements that had Cas arching back farther and drew deep sounds from his throat.
“I love how you sound. Fuck you feel good,” Dean murmured against his throat, moving his lips up to Cas mouth, thrusting his tongue in time with his hips. “Are you going to come for me?”
“Yes.” The word came out fervently, ardently, broken. His world was DeanDeanDean and he didn’t want anything else. Ever. Dean inside him, Dean around him, Dean on top of him, Dean sucking his tongue and pulling his dick and thrusting into his ass and moaning into his ear.
He came hard with a sharp jolt and shout, thick streams of come spurting between them, slicking up their stomachs. Dean’s hand wrenched out every last drop and Dean gasped at the movement and sound.
Dean managed a few more hard, sharp thrusts and then he came fast, biting down hard on Castiel bottom lip, surging hot and deep in Castiel. The feeling made Cas jump his hips again, as if is body didn't realize that it had already worn itself out. Dean fell on top of him and licked his neck.
“Don’t leave.”
He sometimes said that afterward and it had taken a while for Cas to realize that he didn’t mean right now. He meant ever.
Castiel loved the heavy sensation that almost stole his breath. It made him feel warm that Dean trusted him.
“I won’t.” He kissed Dean’s lips.
Dean rolled off him, leaned over the bed and grabbed a t-shirt and toweled them off. He tossed the shirt in a corner and Cas snaked out an arm and a leg to pull him in. Dean hardly ever, if at all, initiated the post-coital cuddling, but he never turned it away. Cas knew he loved it, he just didn’t want to ask for it. The angel was more than happy to drape a leg over Dean’s lower body and throw an arm over his chest. He dropped his head to Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s legs shifted to let Cas’ fall in between and his hand came up automatically to rest over the angel’s forearm.
Dean titled his head to look at Cas’ face. Not to get all chick-flick, but it did kind of bum Dean out that he can’t see Cas’ eyes. It wasn’t too bad having a conversation when the sunglasses were on, but when the glasses were off and Cas just kept his eyes closed… And it wasn’t all emotion-y or think-y (shut it, it wasn’t), Dean liked the color of Cas’ eyes. He liked it a lot. And he liked it when they were focused on him and nothing else. He liked it when he looked Cas and and saw Cas staring back at him, like Cas knew him and was happy with what he saw.
“They will be finished healing soon,” Cas murmured.
“Stay out of my head.”
“I was not in your head, but I can feel it titled toward mine. I assumed you were staring at me.”
“Smart ass.”
“Go to sleep, Dean.”
Cas felt Dean’s body tense slightly. “Cas?”
“I love you too, Dean. Go to sleep.”
* * * *
“Hello, Castiel.”
Castiel turned his face toward the kitchen.
“Alecto.”
He could almost feel her smile. While she, of course, wasn’t a deity as the Ancients had believed, she was infused with a certain power that fluxed through the room echoing her emotions.
She didn’t move any quieter than humans did, although he got the impression that was for his benefit, since he didn’t recall her making any noise at all the first night he met her. He felt the couch dip slightly as she sat down next to him.
“Sight not back yet?”
“It has nearly returned. Sometime this week, I expect.”
“I’m glad,” she replied truthfully. “As promised, I’ve considered your offer of an alliance and on behalf of all the Furies, I accept.”
“I am pleased.”
“Me too. And as my first order of business as one of your official allies, I would like to offer you a gift.”
“That is not necessary.”
“I know. Close your eyes and lean toward me please.”
He did as she asked, without fear. He felt her place a hand on either side of his face and then she gently tipped his head slightly forward. He felt her lips press against one eyelid, and then the other. She released him, and sat back.
“Open your eyes, God Creature.”
She had restored the remainder of his sight.
The first thing he saw was Dean standing behind her in the open doorway, stock still. Before Castiel could open his mouth, Dean had his gun drawn and the barrel of it was pressed to the back of Alecto’s head.
“Dean Winchester,” she sighed. Dean couldn’t see it, but she closed her eyes and seemed to bask for a moment, like a cat in a sunny patch.
“Dean.” Castiel’s voice was low and even. “This is Alecto, the Fury. She and her sisters have accepted our alliance.”
“Fantastic. Keep your fucking paws off him.” He jabbed the gun into her skull.
“She was restoring my sight.”
“Which she wouldn’t have had to do if she hadn’t fucking taken your eyes in the first place.” He dug the barrel a little harder into the mass of blue-black waves of hair and she gasped. It sounded like fear but Castiel could see her lips curling up into a perfect smile.
She opened her eyes and looked at Castiel. “His rage is wonderful.”
“Dean.” Castiel flicked his perfect eyes at Dean. Dean took a moment to examine the color. They were exactly the same. Lucky bitch.
“I don’t mind,” said Alecto easily. “He can shoot me if it makes him feel better. It won’t kill me.”
Well, that took the fun out of it.
“Don’t fucking tempt me,” said Dean as he clicked the safety on and tucked the gun back into its holster.
Alecto stood and turned to face him. She wasn’t petite, but she wasn’t a giant either. If he had to describe her from the neck down, he would have said average. Average height, average build, average rack. She was even in average clothes, dark jeans, black baby-doll tee and tennis shoes. From the neck up was an entirely different story. She had faultless porcelain skin and a perfect Ancient Grecian nose, impeccably straight and almost dainty. It stopped just above her cupid’s bow pink mouth and her pert little chin.
Her eyes though, made him shiver. Darker and deeper yellow than Azazel’s, they were still none-the-less in the definitively yellow family. And slightly round. Like an owl. She didn’t blink either while he stared at her.
And it fucking creeped him out. Eyes should not be that color. Ever.
“You may punch me if you like.”
That pissed him off too, but he was never one to say no to a lady. Despite Castiel’s sharp shout, Dean hauled off and clocked her hard in the jaw, not pulling it a bit. Her head rotated sharply on her neck and when it snapped back to face him, she was smiling, her white teeth stained a beautiful red, blood pouring out of her mouth. She held up a finger, like he should just wait a moment while she closed her mouth, worked her tongue around for a bit and then turned her head slightly, spitting two teeth and a mouthful of blood into a left over mug on the coffee table.
“Again?” she asked hopefully.
He shrugged like it didn’t really matter and hit her again. This time she stumbled back slightly.
“Stop!” Castiel gave Dean a look as he took a step toward the Fury.
She was laughing, fucking laughing. “No, no,” she chuckled waving Cas away casually. She wiped her hand across her jaw and leaving a bloody streak along her face. “It’s perfect. Strike me Cronus, it’s perfect.” She giggled as she touched her fingers to her split lip and then darted her tongue out to lick up the blood. “Your rage is fantastic up close,” she exclaimed, yellow eyes alighting on Dean. “Simply fantastic. Better than I could have hoped for.” Her girlish giggles ended on a long sigh as she eyed Dean. “Oh, I could just eat you up!” She licked at the blood on her lips once more. “Well, boys, it’s been fun, but I need to be going.” She glanced at Castiel and bat her eyelashes. “I don’t suppose I could have a feather?”
As Dean lunged for her, she squealed playfully and darted out of the way, laughing. “You are too perfect, Dean Winchester,” she exclaimed and he realized she was fucking teasing him. She turned back to Castiel, still smiling. “I trust you will teach him how to summon us?”
“Yes. We will not abuse the knowledge.”
“Oh, honey, it’s been so long since we were called for by name, abuse away.” She winked at Dean. “I’ll always be hungry for this one. He gets so angry! All the time! It’s like a buffet!”
“Get out before I take you up on the offer to shoot you. I’ll go for the face,” Dean warned.
She grinned and it was a little lusty. “Promises, promises.”
And then she was gone.
Dean stepped toward Cas and grabbed his chin, examining the angel’s eyes.
“Do they work?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes. They are perfect.”
Damn straight, they were. Dean nodded once. “Okay then.”
Cas gripped Dean’s hips. “While it’s pleasing to see your countenance again, I will miss you taking care of me. You are an excellent care giver. ” Cas was rewarded by watching the flush creep up Dean’s neck and across his face. He loved that pink rush.
Dean waggled his eyebrows comically, trying to brush off the moment. “Yeah? Maybe you might need some care giving right now.” He kissed Cas hard on the lips.
Cas kissed him back and then placed his hands on either side of Dean’s face. Dean recognized the look in Cas’ eyes as a Chick Flick moment waiting to happen and tried to jerk away but Cas held his head still.
“When I start to lose my faith in humanity again, I will remember that I must only look to you to have it restored. You are the manifestation of all that is to be revered of humanity.” Dean tried to pull away and Cas could see he was scared. “Don’t,” he said forcefully, keeping Dean focused on his face. “Don’t say anything, don’t pull away.” He kissed Dean once, almost chastely and then pulled back.
“I will race you to bed.”
