Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13624977.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester
  Character:
      Castiel_(Supernatural), Dean_Winchester, John_Winchester, Bobby_Singer,
      Gordon_Walker, Sam_Winchester, Brief_mention_of_Benny_Lafitte
  Additional Tags:
      Married_Castiel, Josie_Sands_-_Freeform, Older_Castiel, Teen_Dean
      Winchester, Inappropriate_Lust, messed_up, Olive_Oil_as_Lube, Underage_is
      Noncon, Castiel_knows_this, OOC_characters, Anal_Fingering, Boys_Kissing,
      handjobs, Anal_Sex, Rough_Sex, First_Time, Inspired_by_'Lolita',
      Inappropriate_Use_of_Cooking_Oil, Unsafe_Sex, Sexual_Biting, John_is_a
      Bit_Not_Good, Bad_Parent_John_Winchester, Oral_Sex, Come_Sharing, Semi-
      Public_Sex, Domestic, Angst, Smut, Violence, Blood_and_Gore, Reunion_Sex,
      Grown_up_Dean_Winchester, Middle-aged_Castiel
  Series:
      Part 39 of Destiel_Playlist
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-09 Completed: 2018-02-23 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 25114
****** Your Love ******
by Clitler
Summary
     Castiel takes advantage of the crush his sixteen-year old neighbor
     has on him while his wife is out of town. Of course, it's never that
     simple.
Notes
     Hey guys, so I know I said I was taking a break, but I'm back early.
     (*all clap and applaud*)
     I'm still on a darkside kick, though, so bear with me.
     This story was actually the one that started it all. I had just
     finished reading 'Lolita' and this song came up on my playlist and it
     was truly a lightbulb moment.
     There are some pretty bad things in this, so please heed the tags.
     And, as always, unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Your Love (The Outfield) *****
                           Your Love (The Outfield)
            It wasn’t like he expected any different, but every time something
like this came to his attention, Castiel felt the barest twinge of regret. 
What he was regretting he couldn’t exactly say, whether it was the marriage
itself, his choice of wife (not that he’d had much choice in the matter), or
letting things get this far.  The first time he’d met her, at one of his
father’s corporate retreats, he knew she’d be trouble.  Her immediate dismissal
of him had been somewhat of a relief.  Even though she was stunningly
beautiful, her personality was obviously not something he would ever be
attracted to, and her change of opinion when she heard his last name didn’t
help in that regard.  While she’d been rude and almost hostile to a random
corporate drone, she was solicitous and falsely coquettish to the boss’ son. 
But at that age, Castiel had been all about obedience at work and towing the
family line, two ideals he had felt were synonymous with each other.  Ten years
later, he wasn’t so sure, about obeying his father in any aspect of life
andabout marrying Josie Sands.
 
            Their courtship had been quick and efficient, once the elder Mr.
Novak had been presented (by Josie, herself) with a business proposition/
marriage proposal.  It seemed that Sandover Bridge and Iron, Inc was more than
a little in arrears with their creditors and Josie’s proposed merger with her
family’s small but lucrative shipping firm was the godsend Castiel’s father had
been praying for.  So, his father got to continue the company Castiel’s
mother’s family had founded over a hundred years ago, and Josie’s family got
the prestige and vastly expanded customer base they desired.  Castiel got a
wife he had no need or desire for, and Josie got someone to do her taxes and
walk her ugly lap dog while she was away. 
 
            Castiel sighed and looked out the window of his home office, where
he’d spent the last few hours reviewing his lovely wife’s expenses from her
last ‘business trip’ to New Orleans.  Said business trip had incurred bills
from the hotel for a couple’s massage, eight bottles of champagne, and two
‘amenities’ (read: prophylactics) baskets during her three-day stay.  Not that
he was one to criticize, seeing as their wedding night had been the one and
only time he’d touched her, and it had been memorable only for its
awkwardness.  For the first nine years of their marriage, she had been
professionally discrete in her numerous affairs, but in the last year, she had
thrown all discretion out the window, even going so far as to have some of her
‘friends’ drop her off home after their visits.  The increased frequency of her
‘business trips’ spoke very ill of the state of their marriage.  He’d sat at
his desk all morning, pouring over the details of her indiscretions and found
the only emotion he could muster was relief that she had only stayed home for a
week before leaving on a two-week ‘working’ vacation.
 
            Movement at the periphery of his vision caught his eye and Castiel
leaned further back in his chair to look over the row of low bushes demarking
their back yard from their neighbors’.  Their house had been a gift from
Josie’s family and was, by far, the biggest in their suburban neighborhood. 
Castiel had cringed every time he drove into their four-car garage the first
year they’d lived there.  He’d gotten used to the big, empty house by limiting
his habitation of it to his bedroom and its en suite, his office, and their
elaborate kitchen.  The back yard was also his domain.  He wasn’t even sure
Josie knew they had a back yard.  In ten years, he’d yet to see her step foot
past the French doors at the back of the kitchen.  The big yard was where
Castiel spent as much of his waking hours as possible, whether tending his
multiple gardens or simply enjoying the fresh air and sunshine.  Josie had a
redhead’s distrust of the sun, so Castiel had always felt safe from her
increasingly spiteful attentions there. 
 
            The back yard had gotten even better in the last year, since the
arrival of the Winchesters.  Winchester the elder was a ghost, away more than
not, leaving his two sons to raise themselves.  Or, more to the point, leaving
the oldest to raise the youngest.  Castiel had thought little of the small
family of Winchester men for some time, preferring to adhere to the ‘good
fences’ rule of dealing with neighbors, but recently, something very important
had begun to change.
 
            Of course, he’d noted, entirely objectively, the physical beauty of
the oldest Winchester boy when he’d first seen him, but the boy was barely
fifteen and hadn’t even been a blip on Castiel’s radar.  He’d admired the way
Dean looked after his younger brother, watching both boys grow up together from
the short distance between houses, like watching an after-school special about
latch-key kids with the sound turned down.  In the last couple of months,
though, Castiel’s fascination with the family of two next door had increased
exponentially.  The older boy, Dean, had blossomed this spring and now, even at
the tender age of just-turned-sixteen, seemed inclined to be always in
Castiel’s line of sight.  And oh, what a sight he was!  The relentless
California sun had been generous to Dean, tanning him in all the right spots to
highlight his freshly-grown musculature, just this side of twink.  Castiel had
never really thought of himself as a dirty old lecher, but the more he watched
Dean sweat it out behind their rusty lawnmower, with his shirt discarded
haphazardly on a lawn chair and his cargo shorts riding dangerously low and
exposing what should be an illegal amount of white skin below his tan line, the
more he thought Nabokov may have had the right of it.  Although a sixteen-year
old boy was a far cry from a twelve-year old girl, Castiel felt nearly helpless
to his growing obsession.  Dean’s soft skin and nubile body had replaced the
faceless hardbodies in Castiel’s nightly fantasies, even encroaching on his
daily shower, until Castiel had mentally put the boy through enough debauchery
to make a whorehouse madam blush.
 
            Castiel was torn from his musings by the sputtering growl of the
Winchesters’ lawnmower giving its last, dying gasp under the hot, June sky. 
Castiel watched, bemused, as Dean cursed the ancient machine and kicked it
repeatedly after multiple attempts at restarting it met with dismal failure. 
The boy finally walked over to retrieve his shirt from the lawn chair and wiped
the sweat from his face and chest as he walked back to stare down at the dead
mower.  Standing with his hands on his hips, Dean looked up at the sky, then
back at the mower, finally scanning the lawn absently, as if the answer lay in
the hedgerow between their houses.  He stopped when his eyes lit on Castiel as
he stared enraptured out the office window.  Dean’s face broke in a wide grin
and he raised his hand in greeting.  Castiel gasped at being caught out and
jerked his head back where he’d apparently been leaning his face against the
cool glass of the window.  His chair nearly went over but he caught himself on
the desk and stared at the smudge his skin had left on the window in
embarrassment and disbelief.  He cleared his throat and, turning back to his
desk, resolved to stop staring at delectable teenage boys and get some actual
work done.  His wife’s affairs weren’t going to pay for themselves, after all. 
 
            The doorbell ringing startled Castiel almost as badly as being
caught lusting after his hot (and totally underage) neighbor.  Seeing Dean’s
wavy but unmistakable form through the pebbly glass next to the front door was
slightly less of a shock.  Castiel straightened his tie and brushed at the
creases in his slacks before opening the door.
 
            Dean’s smile was easily the most incredible thing Castiel had seen
all day.  Or even all week, Hell, probably in his whole life, “Hey, Mr. Novak!”
The overly-bright greeting would have seemed insincere coming from anyone else,
but something about Dean just radiated good intentions and purity.  The quick
up-and-down he gave Castiel, however, did not.
 
            Castiel returned the favor, an appreciative smile stretching his
lips because Dean hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, “Dean, I’ve told you, call
me Castiel.”
 
            “Oh, right, sorry,” Was that an actual blush?  How utterly unfair. 
“Castiel, sorry, I…uh, well, my mower kind of crapped out on me.”
 
            The two stood there, staring at each other for a long moment.  Too
long, Castiel suddenly realized, “Um, yes, I, uh, I saw that.” Now it was
Castiel’s turn to blush. “How can I have you?”  Dean’s eyes widened almost
comically.  “Not have, help!” Castiel blurted out, “How can I help you?” 
Jesus, Novak, way to scare the kid!  But Dean didn’t look scared, he
looked…interested.
 
            “Well,” and there was that trademark smirk he’d seen Dean flashing
at the many girls he’d dated.  It was a small town and Castiel had noticed him
at several places with a different girl each time. “For starters, we can have
this convo inside your nice, air-conditioned house instead of the porch…” Dean
raised his eyebrows expectantly.
 
            “Oh, yes, my apologies, please come in,” Castiel stepped aside and
tried not to inhale audibly as Dean passed by him into the foyer.  He couldn’t
help but feel the heat radiating off Dean’s perfectly-tanned and sweat-sheened
skin, though and as they stood there, Castiel got a good whiff anyway as Dean’s
natural scent filled the small space thanks to the aforementioned air
conditioning.  Castiel quickly realized he was staring an inordinately long
time again, “I’m so sorry, Dean, I’m being rude.  Would you like something cold
to drink?”
 
            Dean licked those perfectly pink lips, “Yeah, definitely feelin’ a
little thirsty right now.”  He blatantly glanced at Castiel’s mouth and smiled
knowingly.
 
            Castiel felt another flush of warmth creeping up his neck and
cleared his throat, “Um, well, yes, uh, this way.”  Castiel indicated to his
right and led Dean through the living room to the kitchen.  All along the way,
he couldn’t shake the feeling that Dean was watching his ass as the boy
followed him.  Castiel shook his head at his own stupid imagination.  Dean was
a gorgeous, painfully straight, teenager.  He certainly had no interest in his
quickly-creeping-up-on-middle-age, male neighbor and this was not a porno, even
if about 90% of the porn Castiel had ever seen started out exactly like this. 
Castiel walked over to the built-in refrigerator and opened both upper doors,
scanning the interior for something Dean might like.
 
            “Um, I have lemonade, cranberry juice, some diet soda…oh, and the
door dispenses filtered water…” Castiel trailed off as he shuffled things
around to get to the two cans of diet Coke at the back of the bottom shelf.  He
finally laid hands on one of the cans and turned quickly, grinning in triumph,
to find Dean lounging against the nearby island, very obviously staring at
Castiel’s ass.
 
            Dean straightened and sputtered, clearly flustered, “Uh, yeah, uh,
soda’s fine.”  He blushed prettily as he snagged the can from Castiel’s hand
and immediately backed up, popping the top and chugging half the can in one
go.  Castiel smiled softly in sympathy, his mouth going slack as he watched
Dean’s throat work to swallow the cola.  Castiel’s eyes trailed unbidden down
Dean’s long neck, watching a bead of sweat as it traversed the boy’s sharp
collar bone and dripped down his hard chest and over a pert nipple, the house’s
cool air tightening it to a hard nub.  Castiel swallowed audibly as Dean
lowered the can and sighed in relief, catching Castiel’s eye as he raised them
back up to Dean’s face.  Dean put the can down on the butcher’s block behind
him and leaned back on the island again, his tight stomach and long, adorably-
bowed legs on full display.
 
            “So, Castiel, where was Mrs. Novak going off to this time?”  The
way Dean said his name sent an involuntary shiver down Castiel’s spine.
 
            “Josie’s, um, on a vacation…far away,” Castiel turned hurriedly
back to the fridge, ostensibly to retrieve the pitcher of lemonade, but really
it was more to break the intensity of Dean’s eyes on him, something he felt
like a physical caress.  “And her name is Sands, not Novak.”  He took two
glasses down from the cabinet and filled both with lemonade.  “Try this.  I,
um, I make it fresh every day.”
 
            Dean took the offered glass with a half-shrug, “Don’t really like
diet soda anyway.  Leaves that weird taste in my mouth,” Dean paused as Castiel
took a sip of his own lemonade, looking at the older man from under his thick
lashes, “I’d rather have a different sorta taste in my mouth,” he said and
winked, the fucker, before taking a loud sip of lemonade.  Castiel nearly
choked on his drink but coughed his way through it instead, setting his
lemonade down on the counter before he could spill it down his stupid self.
 
            “Um, well, ha, yes,” Castiel muttered awkwardly, “Where are your
dad and, Sam, is it?”
 
            A dark look crossed Dean’s pleasant face at the mention of his
father, showing Castiel what the boy might look like in another ten years, once
life had gotten its claws in him, but his brother’s name caused the opposite
reaction, the love and pride radiating out of him like a palpable thing. 
“Sammy’s spending the summer with our Uncle Bobby, in South Dakota.”
 
            “And your father?” Castiel had no idea why he was pressing the
issue.  Besides his own curiosity, it really wasn’t any of his business, but
the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
 
            “Um, he won’t be back…for a couple days,” Dean mumbled,
unmistakable pain twisting his features again.
 
            That tweaked something inside Castiel, some kind of adult/caregiver
instinct that whispered about abandoned children from deep down in his lizard
brain.  He watched Dean squirm uncomfortably for a moment but decided against
pushing him any further, “So, was there something I could help you with, Dean,
or did you just come to visit?”
 
            Dean visibly relaxed at the change of subject, “Yeah, I, uh, I
think our mower’s done for.  You don’t happen to have one I could finish the
yard with, do ya?”
 
            Castiel folded his arms over his chest and looked at Dean with a
bemused smile, “I have a lawn mower, but it’s not the kind you’re used to.  You
might not want to use it.”
 
            Dean smiled easily back, “Well, now, Cas, that sounds like a
challenge.”
 
            Castiel laughed lightly and beckoned Dean to follow him out to the
garage.  He flipped on the light above his small compact car and trotted down
the three steps into the garage.  He moved a bag of organic fertilizer out of
the way to get to his trimmer, an antique contraption he’d picked up at a yard
sale years ago.  He’d taken his find home and cleaned it up, sharpening the
blades with a Dremel his brother had gotten him as a housewarming gift.  It was
the original model grass trimmer, with rotating blades and was push-powered. 
He carried it over to where Dean stood in front of the car and set it on the
floor in front of the teen, expecting the boy to laugh.
 
            “Yeah, I can use this,” he said thoughtfully.
 
            “Really?” Castiel asked, shocked that a kid his age would even
recognize something this old.
 
            “Yeah, sure.  My Aunt Ellen made me use one of these when we stayed
with her one summer.  It’s been a few years, but I’m pretty sure I remember how
to do it.”  Dean took hold of the handle and carefully carried the trimmer to
the side door, the one opening out to the end of Castiel’s driveway and the
only break in the hedge that separated their properties.  He cracked the door
open but hesitated, turning halfway back, putting his perfect face in exquisite
profile to the bright sunshine streaming into the dim garage. “You’re welcome
to watch me, though,” he said before turning his head further to catch
Castiel’s eye, “If you want to make sure I’m doin’ it right.” And with that, he
was through the door, shutting it behind him and leaving Castiel in the dark,
alone.
 
            Castiel loosened his tie with a muttered ‘fuck’, letting out a
breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  He realized he wasn’t going to be
getting any more accounting done today, not with that encounter to obsess
over.  Maybe some time in the garden was what he needed.  And if he could
easily watch Dean mow the lawn through the breaks in the rose bushes, was that
really so bad?
 
            Ten minutes and a change of clothes later found Castiel unlocking
the small shed set against the back of the garage and pointedly ignoring Dean
as he expertly maneuvered the ancient mower around the remainder of his
untrimmed yard.  Castiel gathered his tools and sunk down to his knees in front
of the first row of roses, snipping and clearing out dead leaves and errant
branches.  He was distracted enough by the state of his plants that he forgot
to leer at Dean through the bushes and before he realized it, the sun was
sinking behind the little patch of woods behind their houses and he couldn’t
hear the snick-snick-snicking of Dean pushing the mower through the grass.
 With much groaning and crackling of joints, Castiel levered himself to his
feet.  This was how he knew he was too old to be fantasizing about sixteen-year
old boys, he thought as he put his tools back into the shed, his knees popped
alarmingly whenever he stood up and there was a twinge in his lower back that
would be even worse in the morning unless he rubbed some arthritis cream in
before bed.  Massaging his back with one hand, Castiel let himself into the
kitchen through the French doors and headed up the stairs to loosen the
offending muscles with a hot shower.
 
            His thoughts inevitably turned to Dean as he ran the sudsy clothe
over his skin.  Despite his repeated self-chastisement for thinking of the boy
like that, his dick didn’t seem to be getting the morality memo.  As
punishment, Castiel refused to give in to his body’s demands for release and
instead, turned the water to full cold to kill his traitorous erection.  As he
was drying off, he realized he’d neglected to bring any clean clothes with him
in his hurry to get under the hot water.  The ringing of the house phone
reached him as he walked down the hall with only a towel wrapped around his
hips.
 
            The only person who ever called the landline anymore was his
grandmother, who liked to act as if she were languishing in some cesspit of a
nursing home instead of living it up in a posh retirement community in
Florida.  Her weekly calls to Castiel were full of stories about her routing of
her arch nemesis (and best friend) Deloris at their weekly pinochle tournament
and whatever hapless man had fallen for her charms lately and was just a step
away from proposing.  Castiel was halfway across the kitchen before he
registered the person sitting casually in the breakfast nook.
 
            “Jesus!” Castiel gasped and jumped back a full three feet, losing
his towel in the process.  He felt the heat of a blush spreading up his back
and across his neck as he bent to grab his towel, wrapping it violently around
his hips as he straightened up, only to find Dean not three feet away, lounging
indolently against the kitchen’s large island.  Castiel couldn’t do anything
but gawp awkwardly at Dean’s knowing smirk.
 
            “I didn’t really see anything, if that’s what you’re so red about,”
Dean said lightly.
 
            “Wh-what are you…doing in my kitchen?” Castiel managed to stammer. 
Despite his complete humiliation, his dick was perking up and taking an
interest in an obviously-freshly showered Dean, his hair still wet and spikey-
dark-bronze.  He’d changed into a white wife-beater and shiny, red basketball
shorts, which rode as dangerously low as the cargo shorts had earlier, exposing
a tantalizing glimpse of lime-green underwear instead of pale skin. 
 
            Dean straightened up and took a step toward Castiel, one he was
loathe to mirror with a step back, “I brought your trimmer back.  It’s in the
garage.  Thought I’d,” Dean paused, licking his lips as he glanced down at
where Castiel clutched the towel to his hip, “come over and thank you with
dinner.  Ya know, since we’re both on our own tonight.” He took another step
forward and again Castiel’s initial impulse was to back away, but his feet
didn’t feel the same way apparently because he stayed rooted to the expensive
Italian tile.  “What d’ya say, Cas? Wanna let me feed you?  Or maybe…” Dean
stepped up again, until he was chest-to-chest with Castiel. “you’d like to feed
me…something.”
 
            Castiel’s jaw dropped.  He hadn’t been sure, all the times he’d
thought he’d caught Dean checking him out, all the casual innuendos, had all
seemed like the unconscious flirting that came automatically to someone just
discovering the power of their own sexuality.  But this…this was something
altogether different.  There was intent in Dean’s words, in the blatant way his
eyes ate up every inch of Castiel’s exposed flesh and tracked his movements
like they were hungry for more.  There was the coiled heat and potential power
of his newly-large body, hovering over Castiel by the bare inch Dean had on him
in height.  But there was still the softest lilt of uncertainty, the question
there under the suggestion, the quiet whisper of ‘May I?’.  Despite the young-
lion-stalking-his-first-gazelle look of him, Dean was still an unsure child
testing the waters of how far he could go with this recent shift in dynamics. 
Castiel read all of these things in the split-second it took for Dean’s left
foot to finish the step required to carry him that last inch, the final
syllable of ‘something’ slipping out of his clever mouth as his heel made
contact with the floor; and still, Castiel reached out his left hand and dug
his nails into the short hair at the back of Dean’s neck and pulled him into a
bruising kiss that broke down the final wall of whatever citadel of decency he
had imagined himself residing in for the last year.
 
            The rush of pure wantthat pulsed through him at that first contact
was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.  It took his breath away even more
so than the firm press of Dean’s lips or the soft gasp that had those lips
opening enough for Castiel to finally, finally, slip his tongue inside.  The
instant his tongue slid alongside Dean’s, the switch flipped, and Dean was on
him, all over him.  Big, calloused hands ripped the towel away and roamed
across Castiel’s back, down to his ass, gripping it hard as Dean pushed his
hips into Castiel’s. 
 
            Dean wrenched his face away from Castiel on a broken moan, gasping
out a shuddering ‘oh, fuck’ as Castiel pulled his shirt over his head in his
hurry to get Dean as naked as he was.  “God, you’re fucking huge, Cas,” Dean
muttered as Castiel nibbled his way down the boy’s smooth neck, teeth catching
on his collar bone when Castiel began pushing frantically on Dean’s shorts.  He
only got them down past Dean’s ass before he registered what Dean had said.
 
            “Hm?  My penis?”  Castiel stood up and let Dean shimmy his pants
down, kicking them away.  Castiel’s eyes were automatically drawn to the bright
green jock, Dean’s cock hard and pushing the loose cup material to its limit. 
He stroked a finger along its length lightly, enjoying the full-body shiver his
touch induced in Dean.  “Yes, it is a bit above average, I suppose,” he
answered absently.
 
            “’A bit above average’?  Cas, this,” Dean wrapped his hand around
the base of Castiel’s cock, bringing the older man’s attention back to his
smirking face, “this is a monster cock.  You’ve been hiding this thing over
here the whole time?” Dean’s eyes dropped back down to where he was gripping
Castiel’s dick.  Castiel’s followed.  Dean’s thumb and middle finger met easily
around his girth, but there was no overlap as the boy began slowly, loosely
stroking him.  Even that light friction dragged a moan out of the older man,
his thighs shaking as he grabbed onto Dean’s shoulders and brought their mouths
together again for a sloppy kiss while he tried to maintain.  It wasn’t like it
had been that long since he’d had sex, if you counted the anonymous hookups in
back hallways and bathroom stalls of gay bars in the city.  Maybe it was the
total sense of wrongness that surged through him at letting a sixteen-year old
kid give him a handjob while they stood in his kitchen.  Maybe it was the voice
in the back of his head screaming
No!Thisiswrong!Stop!Bad!Bad!Stopdoingthis!Thisissobad!.  Maybe it was the even
louder voice screaming
Yes!Doit!Fuckhimtakehim!Shoveyourcockinhisprettymouth!Doit!Doithard!FuckyessoGOOD!. 
 
            All thoughts of stopping here, at this point, of not letting this
get any further; any consideration for the kind of man Castiel had always
thought he was; any concerns about propriety and family and his wife and his
father; everything went the way of the dinosaurs when Dean swiped his thumb
across the slit of Castiel’s cock and brought his thumb up to his mouth, eyes
locked on Castiel’s as he sucked the drop of moisture off his skin and groaned
from deep in his chest.  Castiel seized Dean by his broad shoulders and flipped
him, slamming the boy chest-first into the island and pushed his head down
until his face   was squished against the smooth wood of the butcher’s block
insert.  He snatched at Dean’s hands where he’d tried to catch himself on the
edge of the counter and brought them up to the little vegetable sink.  Castiel
wrapped Dean’s fingers around the edge and growled, “Hang on here.  Don’t
move,” into Dean’s ear.  Dean’s breathy ‘yes, sir’ in response did nothing to
cool the fire burning through Castiel’s chest.
 
            He kept his hands over Dean’s and rubbed his dick against Dean’s
plush ass as he mouthed across the bunched-up muscles in the boy’s upper back
and shoulders.  Castiel growled when he felt Dean shift under him, until he
realized the boy was just widening his stance, making room for Castiel between
his legs.  Castiel grinned wickedly into Dean’s skin, rewarding him with a dark
mark sucked into the skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.  Dean cried
out and thrust his hips back, slotting Castiel’s cock full between his cheeks. 
He reached around Dean’s hip, dipping his long fingers under the waistband of
the jock and slipped it under Dean’s balls.  Castiel rolled the softly-haired
sack between his fingers and Dean groaned again.  He circled Dean’s hard cock
at the base and licked a stripe up Dean’s neck to his ear, humming his approval
into the shell.  A single loose stroke told Castiel the boy was an average size
and girth, the head wet with pre-release, and hard as diamond.   Castiel rolled
his hips up and back, humming happily as the soft skin of his dick slid easily
along the soft skin of Dean’s cleft, but it wasn’t enough, never enough, even
with this full-body contact, from hands to hips to where his thighs pressed
against the insides of Dean’s.  It wasn’t enough to feelDean’s taught body
squirming under him.  It wasn’t enough to hear the boy’s whimpers and whining
and begging.  It wasn’t enough to know Dean was his, completely and totally, in
this moment.  No, Castiel wanted inside. 
 
            “You gonna fuck me, Cas?  God, please say you’re gonna fuck me
now.  Come on, I want you to.  Cas, please!  God, your cock is so big, baby. 
Wanna feel it split me open so bad.  Bet you’ll fill me up so good.  Come on,
Cas, fuck me, please…please…wanna…oh, God, Cas, please do it!”  Casiel’s eye
caught on the huddle of olive oil jars about a foot from the vegetable sink as
he smiled at Dean’s rambling pleas.  He lunged for them and came away with the
plain oil he wanted.
 
            The thing that surprised him most when he looked back on the whole
incident later (and boy, did he look back on it a lot), was that his hands
hadn’t shook, not even a little, as he poured a small amount of oil into his
palm.  And Dean just stayed exactly where Castiel had placed him, arms
stretched across the counter top, hands gripping the rim of the sink, ass out
and legs spread.  The straps of the jock framed his butt nicely, the lime green
contrasting beautifully with the tan of his legs and back, offset with the
creamy white of his round ass.  Castiel set the oil back on the counter and
took a moment to caress that firm skin, loving how resilient and springy it was
as he kneaded and pinched, before he spread the cheeks with one hand and rubbed
his thumb dry over Dean’s pretty pink hole, the same shade of pink as his lips,
now that he thought about it.  A sobbed cry ripped out of Dean’s throat at the
touch.  Castiel dipped two fingers into the puddle of oil and rubbed them on
his thumb a little to warm them.
 
            He stepped back up to Dean, right hand going between his cheeks to
rub and tease at his rim, left elbow keeping the remaining oil safely aloft and
supporting him as he loomed over Dean, catching the boy’s eyes and smiling
sweetly.  “Is this what you wanted, Dean?” he purred, his voice gone deeper
than he could remember it ever being.  “You want my fingers inside you?” he
asked as his index finger breached the softened muscle, running along the
inside and spreading the oil.  Dean gasped and nodded frantically, eyes
squeezed shut as he visibly tried to force himself to relax.  “Open your eyes. 
Look at me while I open you up for my cock.”  Dean’s eyes popped open.  “That’s
a good boy, Dean.” Dean smiled wanly, his small smile slipping as Castiel added
another finger and started scissoring them, fucking slowly in and out.  “How
many fingers do you think it will take, Dean, before you can take my dick?” 
Dean just looked back at him beseechingly.  “Answer me.  How many before I can
sink into your tight little hole?”
 
            Dean swallowed audibly before answering, “Four.”  Castiel’s smile
grew a little more as he added his ring finger.  Dean’s body jerked
involuntarily, and his thighs shook with the force of will it took to stay in
position as Castiel stretched him, completely avoiding his prostate.
 
            “You’re very responsive, Dean.  So sensitive.  Has anyone ever done
this to you?  Tell me, honestly.  Has anyone ever put their fingers inside
you?”  Castiel rumbled as he let his slick thumb rub circles into Dean’s
perineum as his fingers fucked him looser.  Dean keened, and his knees went
loose before they snapped straight again.
 
            “No,” Dean gritted out, being careful not to let his eyes close,
but Castiel could see how badly the boy wanted to let them flutter shut, “Just
me…my own…fingers.”
 
            “And what did you think about while you played with your asshole
for the first time?”
 
            Dean let his eyes close briefly as Castiel added his pinky and
tented his fingers.  “You.”  That caught Castiel off-guard and he paused before
pulling his fingers out.  Dean whined at the lose and shook his head a little
at Castiel.  Castiel went back in with two fingers, going deeper and sliding
along the velvet heat of Dean’s inner walls until he brushed against that hard
knot of nerves.  Dean shuddered and whined against the island as Castiel rubbed
lightly on his prostate.
 
            “You lay in your bed and thought of me.  Did you come with your
fingers in your ass, imagining it was my cock, Dean?”  Dean nodded and groaned,
trying to push his ass out.  Castiel pulled his fingers out and stood up, his
left hand slicking his dick up with the last of the oil.  Dean’s ass jiggled a
bit as he widened his stance even more, arching his back to create that perfect
curve in his spine.  Sweat broke out on Castiel’s forehead at the sight of his
dick lined up with Dean’s hole as it clenched on nothing, the dark purple head
incongruously erotic surrounded by all that milk-pale skin.  He pressed his
thumb to the tip of his cock and pushed, popping past the first ring of muscle
easily.  Dean’s ass swallowed the head of his dick on a choked sob from the boy
and a surprised gasp from the man.  He’d anticipated the tight squeeze but the
heat inside Dean’s body was a shock.
 
            “Cas, please,” Dean whispered, breaking Castiel out of his
reverie.  His fingers still slick with oil, he clasped his right hand on the
jut of Dean’s hip and started the slow, rocking back and forth, burying his
cock deeper and deeper with every roll of his hips.  He knew it had to burn the
farther he went, it had to hurt a little once he got past where his fingers had
stretched Dean out, but the boy just groaned and panted and hissed ‘yes’ and
‘Cas’.  Finally, finally, he was in to the hilt, balls squished against Dean’s
perfect ass.  Castiel laid his body along the length of Dean’s back, heart
tripping as Dean’s inner muscles rippled around him, trying to adjust to the
intrusion.  Chin hooked over Dean’s shoulder, Castiel licked and nibbled on the
boy’s earlobe while they waited.  He smeared as much of the oil as he could
along the marble counter top before reaching under Dean’s shoulders and
gripping him from the front.  He pulled his cock out slowly, groaning as he
felt the soft skin inside Dean grip and slide reluctantly along his length. 
Dean whimpered under him and Castiel shushed him, sucking a dark mark into the
tan skin of Dean’s neck as he picked up a languid rhythm.
 
            Castiel lifted his chest up, moving his hands to the backs of
Dean’s thick shoulders as he sped up, pumping harder and faster into Dean, his
breath coming out harsh and loud in the quiet kitchen.  The change in angle had
his dick striking Dean’s prostate on nearly every thrust.  Dean grunted, the
sounds punched out of him as Castiel started going harder.  “Goddamn, boy,
so…fucking…tight…ungh…shit…Dean…ungh…”
 
 
            “Fuck…Jesus…Cas…come…on…harder…God…so close…come on…I can…take
it…please…” Dean grunted as Castiel pounded into him, “…uh…uh…so
big…fuck…God…damnit…ungh…ungh…ungh…”
 
            “Yes, Dean…gonna…gonna fill you up…fuck I’m gonna…” was as far as
Castiel got before he lost the power of speech.  He hunched over far enough to
mouth at the back of Dean’s neck as his orgasm stream-rolled through him and he
clamped his teeth on a fold of skin, setting off the boy’s orgasm.  Dean
screamed from far away as Castiel felt his whole body expand out into the
universe, right before it contracted again, shrinking faster than the speed of
light into a single pinpoint of infinite heat then exploding in a shower of
sparks, whiting out his vision.
 
            When he finally came back down, he still had Dean’s skin in his
mouth and the boy was panting under him, calling his name weakly.  Castiel
released Dean’s skin, thankfully still intact.  That one might have been a
little hard to explain to his insurance.  He straightened up and snagged his
towel off the floor.  Castiel gently cleaned between Deans legs and helped him
stand up.  By the time he had cleaned Deans come off the side of the island,
the boy was pulling his shirt back on.  Castiel looked up at him and tried to
smile, but it felt like more of a grimace.  He quickly stood and walked toward
the stairs.
 
            “Hey,uh, Cas?”  Dean’s voice stopped him in his hasty retreat and
he turned just enough, not daring to meet the boy’s eyes.  “What happens now? 
I mean…should I leave?”
 
            “Do you want to leave?” Castiel asked quietly.
 
            “Not really, no,” Dean mumbled and took a step toward him.
 
            “I believe you said something about dinner?” Castiel had no idea
how he was managing to sound so calm when inside, he was panicking, his heart
hammering a mile a minute, his breath shallow and fast.
 
            Dean’s voice went up in excitement, “Yeah, I’m a real good cook! 
Sammy loves spaghetti, so that’s what I do best.  Is that okay, spaghetti?”
 
            Castiel closed his eyes and turned back around, “Yes, that…the
pantry’s through there,” he waved a hand in the general direction of the pantry
door and hustled out of the room.  He tried not to run up the stairs, rushing
into his room and slamming the door behind him.  He slid to the floor and
dropped his head in his hands.
 
            Once he got his breathing under control and his heart had slowed
down under heart-attack level, Castiel rested his head on the door, his arms
propped up on his bent knees.  He had really just done that.  He’d really just
fucked his sixteen-year old neighbor boy.  In his kitchen.  Castiel groaned
lowly and balled up his fists.  He wanted to punch something, preferably
himself, but Dean might notice if he came back downstairs with a black eye. 
Sick piece of shit fucking pedophile, he thought.  You deserve to be castrated,
not punched.  What the fuck are you going do now, Novak?  It’s rape, you know
that, don’t you?  He’s below the age of consent and you just raped him.  You’re
going to jail.  That is, if his father doesn’t find out first and just kill
you.  You saw him, that guy was huge, and did he look like the kind of guy
who’d be okay with this because his son wanted it?  You better pack a bag. 
Find a nice non-extradition country and get on a plane.
 
            Castiel grunted his way up off the floor and went over to his
dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and an old t shirt.  He dressed
quickly and took a deep breath.  The voice of reason, the one screaming at him
to run far, far away was right, but he couldn’t face the idea of never seeing
Dean again.  When he pictured telling Dean to leave and then taking off
himself, the heartbreak and confusion on imaginary-Dean’s face was too much to
bear.  Besides, he’d passed Good Judgement about ten miles back and was
hurtling toward the cliff’s edge with a smile on his face.  The taste of Dean
in his mouth and the phantom feel of his firm skin under Castiel’s hands had
made sure of that.  Castiel opened his bedroom door to go downstairs and enjoy
a lovely post-coital spaghetti dinner with his victim, saying good bye to the
last vestiges of the good man he used to be.
***** Down (Marian Hill and Big Sean) *****
Chapter Summary
     Dean's POV
Chapter Notes
     Sorry this took so long, my sleep cycle's all fucked up.
                        Down (Marian Hill and Big Sean)
            Dean’s in Heaven.  He died at some point in the last two hours and
is now enjoying his eternal reward.  It’s the only explanation.  Except, if
this was Heaven, wouldn’t Sammy be here, conveniently disappearing to his room
after dinner?  Dean glanced over at Castiel again, just to check for the
hundredth time if he really likes the food or if Dean can catch him in an
unguarded moment making a face of disgust or maybe tucking a bite of spaghetti
into his napkin.  The older man simply continued to plug along through the
ridiculous amount of pasta Dean had piled on his plate.  Dean forgets sometimes
that not everyone eats like teenage boys, but Castiel had just smiled
beatifically at him and thanked him in a soft, sincere voice when he’d placed
the heaping plate in front of him.
 
            “You don’t have to eat all of it, Cas.  I know it’s a lot.  And I
think I went a little heavy on the red pepper flake, we just don’t usually have
so many spices over at our house and I guess I went a little overboard, so if
it’s too hot, I’ll totally understa- “
 
            “Dean,” Castiel said calmly, interrupting Dean’s nervous babbling,
“I told you it was delicious, and I meant it.” Dean blushed heavily and looked
down at his own plate, trying to hide his small smile of satisfaction.  “You
really are a good cook.  And I told you I hadn’t eaten all day.  This is
really…perfect.” Dean looked back up, slightly surprised to see a look of real
affection cross Castiel’s face.
 
            They finished their meal in comfortable silence, despite Dean’s
occasional fidgeting when he forgot to keep his weight on one cheek or the
other, his ass still aching sharply from what they did earlier.  Not that he
would trade anything in the world for what they had done, even if the feeling
of Castiel’s come leaking slowly out of him was a bit strange as the man
himself tore off a chunk of garlic bread across the table from him, humming
happily as he dragged it through the last of the red sauce on his plate.  And
so what if he’d used some of the same olive oil Cas had used on him earlier to
make the marinara sauce?  It was no big, right?  Had to be, Castiel wasn’t
acting like it was a big deal and he’d be the one to know, wouldn’t he?  So,
Dean followed the older man’s lead and covered his nerves with an air of
nonchalance, just like he got his ass reamed by his thirty-year old married
neighbor on a regular basis because, didn’t everybody?  His biggest worry was,
what now?  Castiel picked up Dean’s empty dishes and carried everything over to
the dishwasher.  Dean tried to help but was told to stay in his seat.  Where he
could worry and wonder quietly while Castiel did dishes in a machine directly
below the counter top he’d fucked Dean against about an hour ago.  Yup, totally
a normal, everyday kind of situation.
 
            Castiel stopped at the doorway that led to the living room and
turned his face back toward Dean, “Are you coming upstairs?”
 
            Dean swallowed the hissed ‘Yes!’ that wanted to escape his stupid
mouth and went with a very mature, “Sure,” instead.  Following Castiel
upstairs, he did take the time to enjoy the view.  For a man his age, Castiel
was in incredible shape.  His ass and thighs showed the evidence of his daily
runs, the very reason Dean had started fantasizing about the man in the first
place. 
 
            They hadn’t even been moved in a day when Dad had woken Dean at the
butt crack of dawn to explain he had to leave again on a job, leading Dean
downstairs in the gloom to the front door where he gave his oldest son a
rundown of The Rules (really just five different ways of saying ‘look after
Sam’) yet again and shoving a fifty dollar bill in his hand before patting Dean
on the shoulder and trotting down the steps of the front porch.  Dean had stood
at the open door in nothing but his jeans and watched his father unlock the
Impala as a man jogging in front of their house raised a hand in greeting and
veered over to talk to John where he stood in the driveway.  The man talking to
his father had been wearing those weirdly short shorts made out of, like,
parachute material or whatever, and a shiny tank top.  The two men had talked
briefly, John pointing back to Dean at one point, the other man’s eyes lighting
on him for a bare moment.  Dean had felt an unexpected blush heat up his face. 
Dean was honestly a little smitten by the guy’s thick thighs and toned ass,
clearly visible through the thin material of his shorts.  Even from here, he
could see the dude’s eyes were a crazy shade of blue and his hair looked like
he’d been fucking his way through the neighborhood rather than jogging through
it.  They finished their little chat, the man waving absently at Dean as he
jogged over to the house next door.  Dad had looked back at Dean and mouthed
‘lock the door’ before sliding into the driver’s seat and rumbling out of the
driveway.  So, yeah, those thighs and that ass had really been the start of
this whole thing. 
 
            Dean was sure anyone looking at it from the outside would say Dean
had Daddy Issues and he was self-aware enough to concede the point, but it
didn’t feel like that from the inside, especially as he watched Castiel rummage
around under the bathroom sink for a spare toothbrush, his sweats stretched
perfectly over his butt.  Dean had certainly never looked at his dad’s flat ass
with lust in his heart.  Castiel finally straightened up and they brushed their
teeth together, in the side-by-side sinks, and that really shouldn’t have
thrilled Dean as much as it did.  They each took a turn using the bathroom in
private, time Dean used to wash the dried come off his cheeks and hoping
Castiel had washed his dick when it had been his turn.  He hadn’t set out to
play house with Cas, but that was exactly what this felt like.  With Castiel
folding the blankets down and pulling a double-armful of throw pillows off the
bed, depositing them in the trunk at the foot of the bed, Dean couldn’t help
but imagine this was a nightly thing for them.  This was a window into a
domestic ‘couple’ dynamic he’d only ever seen on crappy motel television
screens.  It was, understandably, intoxicating.  Castiel stripped off his
sweats and his t shirt, then paused, looking at Dean like he’d forgotten he was
there.
 
            “Um, I’m sorry, I usually sleep naked,” he explained haltingly,
stepping toward his dresser, “I can, uh, I think I have some pajama
pants…somewhere…”
 
            Dean pulled his own shirt off and slipped his loose shorts down his
hips.  He’d never slept naked in his life.  Sharing motel rooms, spare rooms in
family friends’ homes, and sometimes beds with his little brother had meant
sweats or shorts, at least, every night of his life.  The house next door to
Castiel had been the first time he and Sammy had ever slept in separate rooms,
and even then, Sam had snuck into his room in the middle of the night more
often than not the first month or two because he was scared to sleep without
Dean.  As sweet as it was, it kept Dean from even considering the fact that he
had enough privacy to sleep nude.  The idea hadn’t ever even occurred to him. 
“I don’t mind.  I sleep naked, too,” he lied.  Castiel visibly relaxed and
tried not to stare at Dean as he took off his jock, something an old girlfriend
(Rhonda Hurley, God bless her twisted little heart) had bought him and the
closest thing he had to anything approaching sexy in the underwear department. 
Dean slid into the left-hand side of the bed and lay on his right side, facing
Castiel, like he’d seen in countless soft-core porns.  Castiel stood there for
long enough to make Dean think he’d somehow done something obviously childish,
so he did what he always did, deflect with humor.  “Are you going to paint me
like one of your French girls, Cas?”
 
            Castiel tilted his head and squinted his eyes, something Dean told
himself very firmly was not adorable.  Sammy was adorable when he saw a dog he
didn’t know and begged to pet it; girls were adorable when they giggled if you
nibbled on their ears; kittens were adorable when they hunkered down and shook
their asses like they were jungle cats going in for the kill; grown (hot as
fuck) men were not adorable.  “I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel said
flatly as he slid into bed next to Dean.
 
            “Dude! Titanic?” At Castiel’s blank stare, Dean made a conscious
effort not to face-palm, “It’s a movie? Like, a really popular movie?  You’re
telling me you’ve never seen Titanic?”
 
            “I have heard of the ship.  It sank in April of 1912 after striking
an iceberg, I believe,” Castiel said as he pulled the blankets over their legs.
 
            “I just…Jesus, Cas, seriously?  Next, you’re gonna tell me you’ve
never seen Star Wars,” Dean chuckled as he settled into the pillows on his
back.
 
            There was a long beat of silence from Castiel.  Dean turned his
head slowly to see Castiel sitting up on his elbow and biting his lip, a
suppressed laugh shaking his shoulders.  “That’s not even funny, man,” Dean
laughed and Castiel broke out in a full-on grin, his rumbling laugh low and so
goddamn sexy.  Dean couldn’t help but reach out a hand and run his fingers over
Castiel’s stubbly jaw lightly.  Castiel caught his hand and pulled himself
closer.  Those thighs brushed up against Dean’s leg and he turned instinctively
toward Castiel, like a sunflower follows the movements of the sun across the
sky.
 
            Castiel sucked one of Dean’s captured fingers into his mouth,
drawing a groan out of him.  The feeling of wet, hot suction went straight to
Dean’s dick and like every teenage boy everywhere, he went from zero to sixty
just like that.  Castiel scooted even closer, his own dick at about half-mast,
his eyes going wide when his leg touched Dean’s hard cock.  His eyes widened in
shock and he released Dean’s finger to lift the sheet and look.  He smiled back
at Dean before practically pouncing, shoving Dean’s back down to the bed and
latching onto his mouth, the kiss wet and sloppy as Castiel practically climbed
on top of him.  The blankets somehow ended up at the foot of the bed as Castiel
ground his swiftly-hardening dick against Dean’s.  Dean pulled him the rest of
the way over, until Castiel was straddling his hips and their dicks were lined
up better.  Dean threw his head back and moaned.  The dry friction kind of
burned but he didn’t care in the slightest.  Everything Castiel did to him was
amazing, everything felt so good.  He could probably come just from this, but
he wanted to get Castiel’s dick in his mouth as soon as possible.
 
            Castiel went in for his neck, sucking marks there that would show
for days and Dean lost track of any thoughts other than ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and
‘please’ for a few brilliant minutes, just basking in the quick-silver shivers
of pleasure emanating from everywhere Castiel touched him.  “Cas,” he finally
whispered, getting a questioning hum from the man on top of him, “Wanna suck
your cock.” Castiel groaned and shuddered over him, teeth biting into the meat
of his shoulder just so, making Dean’s hips buck up of their own accord.  “Can
I try? Please?”  Castiel flung himself up to sitting on Dean’s thighs, his eyes
terror-wide but lust-blown, cheeks a hectic red, hair a fucked-out mess and
Dean bit his bottom lip, tried to do his version of puppy-eyes, ‘cause yeah,
this out-of-control Castiel?  This wild, Disney-doe-eyed creature staring down
at him was ten kinds of hot wrapped in pure sex and slathered in fuck-yes-sir
sauce.
 
            Cas just nodded gape-mouth stupid and let Dean fling him over to
his side of the bed, where he could use his superior weight and size to make up
for his lack of experience.  He knew the effect this position had on girls,
women, even.  Girls went all melty-pliant under the weight of Dean’s broad
shoulders, his smooth chest, his smirk and Champaign-grape eyes; women went
over even easier, drunk on his youth and his powerful body.  He really had no
idea how a man would react.  Although he was no stranger to sex, even at
sixteen, this thing with Castiel was the first time he’d indulged his errant
thoughts about men.  This was a whole new ballgame, but if Dean Winchester was
good at anything, it was acting on his instincts, and his instincts were
telling him some things worked on everyone, male or female.  He wasn’t proven
wrong, at least with Castiel, who puddled so nicely under Dean’s big body
looming over him.  Dean smirked and went to work, again letting his instincts
guide him.
 
            Dean started with a kiss, all soft, barely-there brushes of his
lips, until Castiel started stretching his neck, searching for firmer contact. 
Dean denied him and tried to hide his smile in Castiel’s neck when the older
man growled softly in frustration.  Dean rose back up and gripped both of Cas’
wrists, positioning his hands over his head and slipped them under the edge of
the headboard.  “Hold on here.  Don’t move,” he whispered in Castiel’s ear,
earning himself another growl, but Castiel did as he was told.  His blue eyes
were stormy with checked sexual energy, which only fueled Dean’s determination
to make this the best damn blow job in the history of oral sex.  This might
have been his first time on the giving end, but he figured his extensive
receiving experience would help him figure it out.  Fake it ‘til ya make it,
right?
 
            He started by trailing his tongue along the older man’s collar
bone, dipping into that perfect depression in the middle, licking the bead of
sweat that had already formed there.  He moved on to chaste little kisses
across Castiel’s pecs because he wasn’t licking the sparse chest hair scattered
there, no matter how soft it was.  He was glad Castiel didn’t have hairy
nipples because those, he lavished with as much licking, sucking, and tender
biting as he could as he surfed Castiel’s surging chest.  Boy, he really liked
the nipple play.  So, for future reference: yes to nipples, check.  Castiel was
panting and sweating, little locks of black hair sticking to his forehead when
Dean finally lifted up enough to look at him.  Dean thought he’d better move on
or this was gonna be the shortest blowjob in the history of oral sex.
 
            He ran his hands down Castiel’s ribs as he slid down, careful to
keep his hips up, not daring to touch the dark, leaking cock that twitched and
dribbled as it curved over Castiel’s stomach.  “Come on, come on,” Castiel
ground out quietly from behind gritted teeth and the way he said it told Dean
he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
 
            Dean smiled up at him from where his mouth was hovering just over
the puddle of precum that collected in Cas’ belly button, “Patience is a
virtue, Cas,” he chastised before lapping up the fluid there and quickly
darting around Castiel’s dick as the older man gasped and tried to swing it
toward his mouth.  Dean chuckled lowly against Castiel’s inner thigh, turning
amused eyes up to Castiel’s scowling face.
 
            “No one likes a cock tease, Dean,” Castiel pouted.
 
            “It’s only a tease if I have no intention of getting
there…eventually,” Dean grinned and bit into the soft skin of Cas’ thigh,
worrying a mark there, the muscle thick and stiff in his teeth, just like he’d
always imagined.  He had to make a conscious effort not to grind his own hard
dick into the soft bedding at the long-awaited sensation of having those thighs
spread out and under his tongue.
 
            “Fuck, Dean, please,” Castiel groaned, head thrown back into the
fluffy pillow, like he couldn’t look Dean in the eye while he begged.  “I’ll do
anything, just…please…”  Dean may have been the one about to suck a cock,
traditionally a submissive position, but the power he felt blasting through his
brain at Castiel’s whimpered pleas made him instantly think of He-Man raising
the Power Sword into the air and bellowing ‘By the power of Grayskull!’.  It
was all he could do not to giggle like a ten-year old, because, yeah, that
would definitely be a little too childish and he was trying to prove something
here, namely that he was old enough for this.  The last thing he wanted was to
get kicked out of Castiel’s bed because the man finally came to his senses and
realized Dean was way too young for this.
 
            He started with the kitten licks up the big vein pulsing with every
frantic beat of Castiel’s heart up the underside of his dick, “Anything?” 
Castiel nodded, the cords of his neck sticking out as he clenched his jaw,
“Look at me.”  Castiel’s head snapped back down so fast Dean was afraid he
might have given himself whiplash, “Tell me exactly what you want.”
 
            “I want you to quit fucking around and suck my dick!”  Dean had
made it up to the frenulum and he ran his tongue in a flat arc that ended by
swiping away a drop of precum at the tip.  He closed his eyes and hummed
happily as the salt-bitter-sharp spread around his mouth.
 
            Dean opened his eyes slowly, batting his eyelashes at Cas in faux
innocence, “And?”
 
            “And…and…I want…” Dean hummed a questioning sound as he lifted
Castiel’s dick with one hand and proceeded to lick at the head like it was a
lollipop, “Ah…ah…fuck, yes, Dean…oh my God, yes…”  Dean stopped licking and
blew a gust of warm air across his wet head and Castiel’s whole body juddered,
like he’d been shocked.  Dean quirked an eyebrow at him and kept his tongue in
his mouth.  “And…uh, fuck, okay…I want…want you to suck it down…um, as far as
you can, don’t choke…I, um I don’t like that, just use your hand on the
rest…oh, fuck yes…like that…God, Dean yes!”  Dean sealed his lips around the
head and began inching his way down, lashing his tongue around to lubricate the
slide.  “More…fuck, make it wetter…God, I want to feel it dripping down my
balls…”  Dean moaned and couldn’t help grinding into the bed at that, his free
hand digging into Castiel’s hipbone to keep himself grounded.  “Yes…fuck,
yes…God, Dean…ungh…ungh…so good…you’re…fuck, that’s perfect…ah…ah…ah…yeah, use
your teeth…oh fuck…lightly, baby, lightly…that’s it…fuck like that…oh Dean, I
can’t…I’m sorry…oh God…”
 
            Dean had a split-second to wonder why Castiel was apologizing, his
hand twisting along the substantial portion of Castiel’s cock he couldn’t fit
in his mouth (so much he was wondering if he shouldn’t have found a way to
practice on someone with a smaller dick first) as it followed his mouth up and
down, when Cas began rolling his hips in a gentle wave, shoving his dick in and
out instead of letting Dean control the depth.  He almost gagged before he used
his hand on Castiel’s hip to hold the older man down just enough to keep from
getting face-fucked by the man’s huge dick.  Not that he wouldn’t love to work
his way up to that, but his jaw was already aching from the stretch and he was
drooling so much he was glad this was happening on Castiel’s side of the bed so
he didn’t have to sleep in the wet spot.  He really hoped Cas would be ready
for a little reciprocation after he came, because Dean was sure as fuck ready. 
Oh well, time for the grand finale.
 
            Dean let go of Castiel’s hip and slipped that hand through the spit
cascading off Cas’ balls.  He pulled his mouth up and increased the suction on
the head of Castiel’s dick, flicking his tongue in and out of the slit at the
same time he slid a spit-slick finger into Castiel’s tight asshole, only to the
second knuckle.  Castiel bucked once and then he was howling, a primal, almost
inhuman sound that might have started out as Dean’s name but ended up a ragged
scream tearing around the room and sending chills down Dean’s spine.  He came
so hard, it splashed against Dean’s soft palate and made him gag, but he hung
on, keeping the seal tight around Castiel’s dick and sucking for dear life.  He
tried to swallow between spurts, but he still ended up with a mouthful of come
when Castiel’s back finally unbowed and he flopped down to the bed on a gasping
shudder and an endless string of whispered ‘fuck’s.  In a flash of inspiration,
Dean crawled up Castiel’s body, wiping his wet hands on the sheet.
 
            He hovered over Castiel’s face and waited a beat for the man to
open his eyes.  He lifted an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at Castiel’s still-
open mouth.  “Oh, fuck, yes,” Cas breathed and pulled Dean in for a come-soaked
kiss, so Dean fed the man his own spend back to him.  Castiel licked and sucked
at Dean’s tongue, moaning as he cleaned the taste of himself out of Dean’s
mouth, ending the kiss with a little lick to the corner of his mouth and a
chaste kiss on top.
 
            Castiel let his head fall back to the pillow and gazed adoringly up
at Dean before a sly smile crept its way onto his face, “Get up here, come
on.”  He started tugging weakly on Dean’s armpits, “Sit on my chest and feed me
that beautiful cock.”  And, um, yes please!  Dean was so down for that. 
Luckily, his natural grace hadn’t decided to pack up and leave town in the
extremis of his arousal because he managed to climb up Castiel’s limp body
without accidentally kneeing the man in the ribs.  He ended up with his knees
on either side of Cas’ chest, tucked up into his armpits.  “Mmm, yes, come on,
boy, fuck my face,” Castiel licked his lips and darted his tongue out and that
was all the encouragement Dean needed.
 
            Dean pushed his dick down until just the tip slipped in between
Castiel’s lips.  He leaned forward and gripped the top of the headboard as he
slid his cock into Cas’ hot, wet mouth.  He knew he’d never stack up to
Castiel, he wasn’t porno-big, after all, but the one big advantage to having an
average-sized dick was that he could get the whole thing inside that tight
suction, all the way to the base.  He realized he could feel Castiel’s throat
constrict around the tip of his dick as the man swallowed rhythmically and Dean
let his head fall back as he fucked into the willing mouth under him.  He
groaned as he started off slow, still not sure he wasn’t suffocating Castiel in
this position, but Castiel grabbed his hips and pulled, shoving Dean’s dick
further into his throat.
 
            “Fuck,” Dean gasped and looked down to watch Castiel guide his hips
as he filled the man’s mouth again and again.  Castiel hummed his approval and
Dean, already on the edge almost since Castiel sucked his finger into his mouth
what seemed like hours ago, got blind-sided by his orgasm as wave after wave of
unbearable heat rolled through his spine.  “Ungh…ungh…Cas…fuck…” he grunted as
he shot down the older man’s throat.
 
            Forehead firmly planted on the headboard, Dean looked down and
watched Castiel lick his softening dick clean, humming and stroking up and down
Dean’s thighs gently.  He looked up at Dean and smiled so sweetly, his eyes wet
and soft.  Dean wordlessly scooted down until he was lying alongside the older
man.  He rested his head on Castiel’s chest and melted into the way the man ran
his fingers through Dean’s hair until his eyelids grew heavy and he felt that
floaty loose feeling steal over his body.  Just before he fell asleep, he
thought he heard Cas whisper, “Thank you.”
 
 
            The next morning was soapy handjobs in the shower to perk up a very
grouchy Castiel and a virtual mile-high stack of bacon to sate a ravenous
Dean.  As Dean finished off the last stick of salty pork Heaven, he sat back
and considered Castiel, who was running a thumb over and over the knuckles on
Dean’s left hand and smiling down at it.  “I don’t want to leave,” he muttered.
 
            “Then stay,” Cas told his hand.
 
            Dean thought about it.  He needed to at least go back home for some
clothes and his phone, but there was no real reason he couldn’t stay at Cas’
place today.  With Sam gone and their dad off in Nebraska or where-the-fuck-
ever, there was nothing keeping him at the house.  Hell, his dad’s realtor
friend would probably be thrilled if no one was there when he brought the new
owners through tomorrow.  He could just text his dad and let him know he
wouldn’t be home for a couple days.  John didn’t need to know exactly wherehe
was.  “I have to go back for some of my things, but yeah,” Dean turned his hand
to lace his fingers through Castiel’s, “then I’m all yours.”  The smile that
lit Castiel’s face was worth whatever bitching he’d have to listen to from John
whenever he came back.
 
            And that was how the most perfect three days of Dean’s life began,
with a simple decision to say ‘Yes’.  He came back to find Castiel already
naked and stretched out in his bed, three fingers deep in opening himself up
for Dean.  It took every ounce of Dean’s will power not to jump up and down
with excitement.  Instead, he leaned against the door frame and watched until
Cas begged him to join him, to fuck him, make him come.  He plowed into Cas’
tight ass, one leg thrown over his shoulder and one wrapped around his hip, as
Castiel jacked his dick with one hand and played with one of Dean’s nipples
with the other, until they both came gasping each other’s names.  Condoms were
a null issue at this point, Castiel told him and Dean nodded sagely.  He
believed the older man when he said Dean was the first to get Castiel bare and
he told Cas truthfully that he had always used a condom before this. 
 
            Being with Castiel had a way of pushing the real world away, making
issues that should have bothered Dean seem inconsequential.  When they were
lying in Cas’ bed, Dean trying to catch his breath and Castiel running a
fingertip over his sweaty skin, they talked about food and told jokes and made
promises, like it was all that mattered.  Every time Dean had a flash of doubt,
Cas would smile or lick his cock or pet his hair and Dean’s doubts flew away
like startled birds, until they disappeared entirely, lost in the blue sky of
Castiel’s eyes.  Castiel, for his part, seemed totally at ease, unbothered by
Dean’s age or his own marital status.  They lived in their own bubble for three
days, a pocket universe where Dean fit into Castiel’s life as an equal and the
facts were never, ever mentioned.  Dean let the sex and the affection lull him
into the first real sense of contentment he’d ever found.
 
 
            “No one will see, Cas, come ooooooonnnnn,” Dean tried not to whine,
but Cas was being difficult.
 
            “What if someone comes by to…deliver a package or something?” 
Castiel gazed down at Dean where the boy knelt between his knees.
 
            “No one will answer the door and they’ll leave it on the porch and
go away,” Dean ran both hands up Cas’ thighs, then back down, dragging his
nails lightly back down to his knees.  Castiel hissed and shifted his ass,
making room in his loose board shorts for his growing dick.  “No one’s gonna
come back here to deliver a package, so why don’t you give me your package?”
Dean winked and Cas laughed at his terrible innuendo.  Dean bit his bottom lip
and that was all she wrote, Castiel’s faint at propriety was effectively
dodged.  He let Dean slip his shorts down to his ankles.  Castiel threaded his
fingers through Dean’s soft hair as the boy made his way up the inside of his
thigh.
 
            By the time Dean was lipping at his balls, Castiel was hard and
leaking down his own length.  He kept his eyes glued to Dean’s eyes, his pupils
dilated with lust despite the bight sunshine in the back yard.  Dean swallowed
the first couple of inches and Castiel finally let his eyes close.  If he
watched this part, he’d come within a minute.  Castiel sprawled out in the deck
chair, letting the heat of the sun battle the heat of Dean’s mouth.  Dean
rubbed circles into Cas’ hipbones with his thumbs as his tongue whipped circles
around Castiel’s cockhead.  Castiel groaned Dean’s name and tightened his grip
on the boy’s hair.  The slick sound of flesh on flesh was soon added to the mix
as Dean took his own cock out and stripped it in rhythm with his mouth on Cas’
dick.  “Fuck…Dean, so fucking good, baby…oh God, your mouth…”
 
            Suddenly, the heat and suction of Dean’s mouth was gone.  Castiel
opened his eyes just in time to see a fist flying at his face before the world
turned off.
***** Blurry (Puddle of Mudd) *****
Chapter Summary
     Castiel and Dean have to face the consequences of their relationship
Chapter Notes
     I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, mostly because they're
     going a little off-script.
     Nature of the beast, I guess.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                            Blurry (Puddle of Mudd)
            “Fuck…Dean, so fucking good, baby…oh God, your mouth…”
 
            Dean felt more than saw a shadow fall over him.  Before he could
even open his eyes all the way, he was shoved roughly backward, off Cas’ dick,
landing hard on his ass in the grass.  His eyes flew open in time to see his
dad decking Castiel hard enough to knock the man out.  Castiel’s body went lax
and all Dean could think was he was completely defenseless now.  John drew back
and landed another solid hit to Cas’ face and Dean heard the snap as Castiel’s
nose broke.  Dean scrambled for the pile of gardening tools they had
haphazardly discarded an hour ago.  His hand landed on the short-handled spade
he’d teased Cas for using around the rose bushes earlier.
 
            “DAD!” Dean shouted as he stood up, palming the spade in a two-
handed baseball bat grip.  John punched Castiel again and grabbed the
unconscious man’s shirt, shaking him brutally.
 
            “Wake the fuck up, you fucking child molester!  What did you do to
my son?  Sick fucking pervert!  I’ll fucking kill you!”
 
            Dean didn’t think, he just acted.  Following his instincts, like
his father had taught him, instincts that told him Cas would be dead soon if
Dean didn’t stop John by any means necessary.  He swung the spade at the back
of John’s head.
 
            His dad went down like a house of cards to the ringing sound of the
spade connecting with bone.  The reverb lit up Dean’s hands in electric tingles
and he dropped the tool.  A quick check of his father proved he hadn’t killed
him, the man’s breath slow and steady even if his pulse was a little thready
and erratic.  Castiel was in worse shape.  His left eye was already swollen
shut and his nose was a ruin.  Dean thought his right cheek bone might be
fractured, too, but that wasn’t critical.  He ran the pads of his fingers up
both sides of Cas’ nose lightly, finding only one break. 
 
Sam had broken Dean’s nose last year during one of their dad’s ‘training’
sessions, the one where he was teaching them to use any nearby object in a
fight.  The kid had grabbed a socket wrench more to scare Dean than to actually
hurt him, but Dean had ducked when he should have dodged.  Sam had closed his
eyes when he swung the wrench and then blammo: instant broken nose.  He’d
dropped the wrench and dissolved in tears, even with Dean reassuring him it
wasn’t his fault.  Winchesters didn’t fight fair, they fought to win.  John had
shown both boys how to field set a broken nose that day.  Sam hadn’t really
absorbed that lesson, what with the crying and profuse apologizing, but Dean
had focused on his father’s words to distract from the pain.  Once his nose was
more or less straight and the bleeding had stopped, Dean had taken Sam into the
motel room and they’d made smores over the hot plate and watched a Die Hard
marathon on the motel’s shitty cable while John had gone out to a local bar.
 
Dean lined the blade of his hand up on one side of Castiel’s nose and his
opposite thumb on the other and pushed.   Castiel groaned as his nose realigned
with a sickening crunch and his good eye blinked open.
 
“Wha-ow! Fuck!” Castiel slurred, his hand going automatically to his nose. 
Dean held his face in both hands gently to keep him from making it worse.
 
“Cas? Cas, listen to me.  We have to leave.  If we’re still here when Dad wakes
up…I don’t know…he’ll kill you, and maybe me, but definitely you,” Dean
explained quickly.
 
“Dad?” Castiel glanced down at John’s body sprawled in his yard, “Fuck! Dean,”
he cut his eyes back to Dean, “Wha’appined?”
 
“My dad showed up and punched you,” Castiel rolled his good eye and huffed,
“Okay, he pounded your face in, but it’ll be a lot worse if we stick around, so
let’s go, come on.  Can you stand?”
 
“Fink sho,” Cas spit a wad of blood onto the grass as Dean helped him out of
the lawn chair and across the yard to the back deck.  Dean sat him a kitchen
chair with two bags of frozen peas and started gathering a go-bag for him. 
Dean’s was already in the trunk of the Impala and he knew his dad kept a box of
emergency cash and fake IDs under the trunk’s false bottom.  He threw clothes
and other essentials in a gym bag he found in Cas’ closet, then raided the
man’s desk for his wallet.  Dean ran back out to his dad, who was still
unconscious in the yard, and dug the Impala’s keys out of the man’s pocket.  He
hustled Castiel out to the car, shoving a pair of ratty tennis shoes in his
arms on the way.
 
Dean couldn’t help the glances in the review as he drove them away, firmly
convinced he’d see his father, hair bloody and matted, chasing after the Impala
like the fucking Terminator.  Castiel groaned next to him and rolled his head
over to pin Dean with his good eye, “Wha’re we doing? Where we going?”
 
Dean sighed and glanced over at him.  God, everything was so fucked up, but
even like this, face busted and confused as fuck, Cas was ethereally
beautiful.  “I…I didn’t want any of this to happen, Cas, ya gotta believe me.” 
Castiel just continued to stare at him.  “Well, look, here’s the thing: we have
to run.  And, and when I say run, what I mean is go as far away as possible and
hide, just, like, drop off the grid for a while, until he loses the trail.  So,
yeah, that’s, um, that’s what I’m doin’.  Like, directionless driving to shake
him.”
 
Castiel stared blankly at him for a moment, then sat up as far his seat belt
would allow before throwing a bag of frozen peas at Dean’s chest, “What
theFUCKare you talking about??!!” he screamed, ear-shattering in the confines
of the car.
 
“Fuck, fuck! Okay! Goddamnit, Cas, fucking stop before you make me crash!” 
Dean tossed the peas in the back seat and pulled the car out onto the freeway
heading southeast, thinking his dad would expect him to head toward Sioux
Falls.  “My dad, he’s, um, he’s a merc.” Sharp intake of breath and Dean
waited, for the questions, the accusations, even a denial, but there was
nothing for what felt like a long time.  They drove another four miles before
Castiel finally spoke.
 
“Pull off at the next exit,” he stated dully, looking out the window.  Dean
signaled and parked in the big truck stop right off the exit ramp.  Castiel
made no move to get out or even turn around.  When he started talking, his
voice just sounded sad and resigned, “Do you have somewhere you can go, where
you’ll be safe until he calms down?”
 
“Well, yeah, I guess.  I could go to my Uncle Bobby’s.  If I’m there with Sam,
he won’t try anything, but you- “
 
“Don’t worry about me.”
 
“Come on, man don’t be like that!  You’re in this because of me! I- “
 
“I’m already dead,” Castiel turned to look Dean in the eye, “We both know
there’s no way out for me now.”  Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Cas’ hand
on his stopped him.  It was the same slow, gentle brush across his knuckles
from that first day together.  Castiel smiled down at their hands and nodded to
himself, “It was worth it.”  Little hitch of breath, “You were worth it,” he
whispered.  Castiel abruptly took his hand away and wiped a tear from his
fractured cheek.  He put a hand on the door, “Good bye, Dean.”
 
“WAIT!” Dean grabbed the hand closest to him, “Wait, okay, look, I know it
seems hopeless, but…Cas just trust me, okay?  I can do this!  My dad, he taught
me everything I need to know about disappearing and I…I know him, I know how he
thinks and what he’ll do.  I can do this!”  Dean laced his fingers with Cas’,
“Please, just…give me a chance…just, don’t leave me…”
 
Castiel glanced back out the windshield and Dean could see the muscles in his
jaw working as he struggled with himself.  He looked back at Dean and Dean
could see the moment he broke, handing himself over to whatever fate awaited
him in Dean’s hands, running from a freelance assassin/bounty hunter with a
very real desire to see Castiel six feet under.
 
 
            This was so abysmally stupid, depthless insanity, but when he
looked over at Dean and his earnest face, full of perfect honesty and hope,
Castiel broke.  He just gave in, wordlessly but definitively, buckling his
seatbelt and facing forward quietly as Dean backed out and pulled back on the
freeway.  He fell asleep at some point in the endless driving and woke up when
Dean turned the car off in front of a fleabag motel in a long line of fleabag
motels, not too far from an airport.  Castiel watched while Dean trotted up to
the office window and paid for a room in cash, no ID required, and Cas didn’t
know these kinds of places existed in this day and age.  He followed Dean to
the room, followed him into the bathroom, let himself be pushed down to sit on
the toilet lid, sat quietly while Dean cleaned up his face and applied ointment
and butterfly bandages from a battered white box.  He let Dean strip his shirt
off delicately, let Dean pull his shorts off, let Dean lead him to the lumpy
queen-sized bed, let Dean snuggle up against his back, let himself sink into
the safety of sleep.
 
            Dean held out a handful of oblong white pills to him in the morning
and passed him a bottle of water after he’d selected two.  He wanted to ask
where Dean had gotten them, but his jaw felt wired shut, so he sipped at the
chocolate milk Dean brought him and waited for the pills to work.  He watched
Dean move around the room while he sat in the middle of the scrambled bedding. 
He didn’t move like a child, no hesitancy or stop-starts.  He strode out to the
car, carrying in bags and boxes, cataloging their supplies and making a list of
things they still needed, like this happened every day.  He seemed oblivious to
Castiel’s scrutiny until he stopped sorting through a box of money and ID cards
on the table and spoke in a quiet rumble, “Why’re you watching me?”
 
            Castiel waited until he turned around, then shrugged in lieu of a
verbal response.  Dean sighed heavily and turned back to the box.  “You
probably have some questions.”  Dean stuffed everything back in the box and
locked it back up.  He sat next to Cas on the bed and gave him the abridged
version of his life.  Mother dead when he was four, victim of a housefire that
was supposed to wipe out the whole family but only succeeded in pulling his
father back into the life he’d given up for her.  Years of taking care of baby
Sam while his father reestablished contacts and relationships then started
taking jobs to raise money to go after their mother’s murderers.  Little Dean
watching out the window as his father left them alone in motel rooms for days,
at family friends’ houses for weeks, months.  Then dragging his two boys along
behind him in a series of weeks-long trips to work and train them up in the
life.  Dean was an expert with handguns by age ten, could take a grown man
down, bare-handed, in under a minute by age twelve.  Years of sheltering Sam
from their father’s temper, always trying to keep John’s focus on him so Sam
could be a somewhat normal kid.  Nine months of almost-generic suburban life
next door to Castiel while their father got to the end of his most important
hunt, the house they’d been staying in a temporary gift from a grateful client
of John’s, until it had been sold.
 
            “That’s why I, ya know, with you,” Dean said quietly, not looking
at Castiel but down at their hands where they were joined in Dean’s lap, “Dad
called, said he was almost done, he and I were gonna do the job together, kill
the guy who killed my mom.  So, I sent Sam to stay with Bobby and I was getting
the house ready, can’t leave a trace we were there, and I saw you watching
me…and I thought…this might be my last chance…and I just, I just wanted you so
bad…I…I didn’t…think…” Dean dissolved in tears and Cas drew his head into his
chest, letting Dean sob against his skin.
 
            Castiel knew what a merc was.  His father was one of the most
powerful businessmen on the West coast, so he’d heard some things.  If a rich
someone wanted something unsavory done, from taking out a competitor to
industrial espionage, a merc was the answer.  An entire underground network of
disavowed spies, ex-military hunters, and disenfranchised foreign elements
existed for the sole purpose of providing the rich elite with their own on-
demand army.  By marrying Josie and retiring to suburbia, Castiel had sought to
distance himself from the kind of business dealings his father required of his
brothers, but here he was, fallen into the exact quagmire he’d spent ten years
trying to avoid.  But Dean, Jesus, Dean was just a kid.  Despite the grown-up
body and the fast-track childhood, he was still a kid. 
 
            Dean wiped his face on a corner of the sheet and turned his red
face up to Castiel, “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his neck stretching up to put his
lips gently on Castiel’s, “Love you, Cas,” he whispered against Castiel’s
battered mouth, “Love you,” as he climbed in Castiel’s lap, “Please don’t leave
me…love you…sorry…need you, Cas…so sorry…please…” Castiel tried to quiet the
litany with soft kisses and touches, but Dean grew more and more frantic.  He
pushed Castiel back on the bed and trailed his confessions and apologies down
the older man’s chest.  Cas tried not to look down as Dean nipped and licked at
his hip bones, willing himself not to get hard.  The whole situation was so
fucked up and sad and he should not be thinking about burying his dick in
Dean’s wet mouth or tight ass but oh God, he was.  Dean’s mouth on the base of
his cock, his tongue licking the crease between his balls and his thigh, his
hot breath pouring over the drops of spit left behind on his pubic hair and
Castiel slipped into the swirling river of lust and hot, spiking desire the boy
was offering up.
 
            He dared a look down his own body at Dean’s bright green eyes when
the motion over Dean’s back caught his eye.  Dean pulled his fingers out of his
ass and slicked Castiel’s cock up with the rest of the lube he’d been using to
open himself up.  Before Cas could even ask what the Hell Dean was thinking,
the boy was scrambling back up into Cas’ lap and lowering himself onto his
dick.  Dean let his head fall back between his shoulders as he adjusted, hips
moving in little figure-eights and Castiel beneath him, gasping for breath. 
Cas dragged his nails down Dean’s thighs where they stretched wide around his
hips, drawing a hissed moan out of the boy.  Dean looked down at him with a
purpose, eyes laser-focused and brows drawn down.  He planted his hands on
Castiel’s ribs and rose up, slamming back down hard enough to have Castiel’s
back coming up off the bed, his hands scrambling for purchase on Dean’s hips as
he begged and babbled unintelligibly.  Dean set a hard pace, fucking himself of
Castiel’s dick like it was his life’s work and Castiel lost all ability to
reason or think of anything but the bright-white shocks of pleasure exploding
behind his eyes.
 
            Castiel managed to get his legs bent and his feet planted in the
cruddy mattress and started fucking up into every down thrust.  Dean let out a
yelp and grabbed onto Castiel’s knee with one hand, his other hand stripping
his own cock furiously, “Ah fuck baby, yeah, fuck, love you so much, Cas, yeah
make me come, baby, love it, love you so fucking much, give it to me, wanna
ride you forever, fuck Cas, oh God yeah…”  Castiel zoned out, his whole world
narrowing down to this incredible creature bouncing on his dick and the fire of
his orgasm building in the base of his spine.  And then thick, warm stripes of
come slapping into his chest, his chin and Dean arched back, hand on his cock
as it ruptured across Castiel and he was coming so hard, deep inside Dean,
mouth open in a painful silent scream. 
 
 
            Dean snored something fierce, right into Castiel’s ear, but he
chalked it up to stuffy sinuses from the boy’s little break down earlier.  It
wasn’t good that he’d felt the need to distract Castiel with sex.  It was even
worse that Castiel had let him.  Sex was the glue Dean tried to use to bind
Castiel and fuck him if it wasn’t working.  Despite his ability to see right
through the boy’s ploy, he’d let it happen and what did that say about him? 
Did he love Dean?  He wasn’t sure, mainly because he’d never been in love
before.  What did that even mean?  He certainly liked Dean.  Aside from the
obvious sex-related activities, being around Dean was like lounging in the sun
on a spring day.  He was funny in a way no adult in Castiel’s life was, willing
to embarrass himself to get Castiel to laugh.  He was smart but humble about
it, which was a rare quality in anyone, no matter their age.  He was kind and
thoughtful, that was evident by the way he treated his brother, always putting
Sam’s needs before his own.  He was all of these things, all the things Castiel
had always looked for in a friend and everything he would have looked for in a
partner, if he’d ever been given the chance.  Dean was also a sixteen-year old
boy, who laughed at fart jokes and dropped his towel on the floor instead of
hanging it on the rod and sniffed his shirt before shrugging and pulling it
on.  He was a mish-match of maturity and childishness, of artless sensuality
and inane humanity. 
 
He was perfect and Castiel loved him with all his heart.
 
 
            Three weeks and four states later and still no sign of John
Winchester, or any other merc, for that matter.  Castiel’s face was mostly
healed, at least enough for them to take turns paying for motel rooms without
standing out to any mildly-attentive clerk.  Dean had abandoned the Impala in
Colorado, something he still grumbled about when he was getting tired and
cranky from driving most of the day.  He very rarely let Castiel drive,
complaining that whatever route Castiel chose was too deliberate, a path John
would easily sniff out.  Cas had no idea how he came to that conclusion, but it
suited him just fine, he’d never really liked driving long distances.  Two days
at that first motel had been the longest they’d stayed in one place, just long
enough for Dean to pick up what few supplies they needed, including a burner
phone, and call Bobby.  Castiel had only heard one side of the conversation,
but it was clear Dean’s only concern was for Sam’s peace of mind, reassuring
Bobby that he had not been kidnapped and would be out of contact for a while of
his own free will.  Castiel had stood inside the bathroom, listening to Dean
talk to his brother in low tones and his heart broke.  It was all his fault
Dean was apart from Sam.  But then again, if John had had his way, Dean would
be off with him on a ‘job’.  Becoming an assassin at sixteen was only slightly
worse than becoming a middle-aged man’s boytoy.  What started out as a
conciliatory blowjob turned into Dean bending Castiel over the room’s squeaky
Formica table and fucking him hard and fast until Castiel was coming on a sob
with Dean’s dick still twitching in his ass.  Dean didn’t talk to him for the
rest of the evening but curled up in Castiel’s arms like everything was fine
that night.
 
            So, they flew across the country, stopping briefly at gas stations,
roadside diners, different motels every night.  Castiel had never lived like a
vagabond, but Dean always unerringly knew which motels were safe, what country
roads to take, what bars wouldn’t be bothered by his young face.  And every
night (most mornings and the occasional afternoon, too) were spent exploring
each other, drowning the constant fear and uncertainty in sex mixed with not a
little love, tender kisses turning into desperate fucking.  Until, that was,
the next time Dean called Bobby.
 
            He had run out to a local diner while Castiel slept in and decided
to duck in to the convenience store next to the restaurant on the way back.  He
bought some road food and stared stupidly at the little display of cell phones
in front of the cash register while he waited in line.  When it was his turn,
he grabbed the cheapest one and threw it in his pile of junk food and sodas. 
He activated it on the walk back to the motel.  After depositing the diner
breakfast on the front seat, he’d sat behind the wheel of their latest stolen
vehicle, a horrendously yellow ’78 Lincoln Continental, chosen for the laugh it
got out of an otherwise grouchy Castiel, and called Bobby.
 
            “Hey, Bobby.”
 
            “Oh, hey Caleb, what’s goin’ on with you?”
 
            “My dad’s there, isn’t he?”
 
            “Yup, sure thing, buddy.*muffled* I gotta take this.”
 
            “Where the Hell are you, boy? Do you realize how worried we’ve
been?!  Sam’s been outta his mind!  And then your daddy shows up this morning,
spinnin’ some bullshit about how you was kidnapped by some pedophile and got
your brother cryin’!”
 
            “I told you I wasn’t kidnapped.  I just…Bobby, if we’d stayed, Dad
woulda killed Cas!”
 
            “He’s still gonna kill ‘im!  Soon’s he finds you two…look, just
drop the guy off somewhere and come back, you can’t run forever, Dean.”
 
            “I know, okay?  I know…I just, I can’t leave him out here on his
own.  Dad’d find him without my help, you know that, Bobby.”
 
            “You realize he’s got everyone he knows on the lookout for you
two?  Even if you could keep goin’ forever, your luck’ll run out eventually.  I
don’t wanna see this get to the point where you get caught in the middle and
get hurt,” Bobby sighed, as broken as Dean had ever heard him.  “Is this guy
really worth your life?”
 
            Dean swallowed the tears that burned at the back of his throat,
“Yes,” he whispered.
 
            “Is he worth never seein’ Sam again?”
 
            “It won’t come to that.  I’ll…I’ll think of something, just…do what
you can, buy us some time.  Can you do that for me, Bobby?”
 
            “Yeah, Dean, I can do that.”
 
            “Thanks, Bobby.  I gotta go, Cas’ll be waking up soon and I don’t
want him to think I ditched him.”
 
            “Alright.  Be careful, you hear me?”
 
            “Yeah, Bobby, I will.”
 
            “Idjit.”
 
            Dean got out of the Lincoln and walked around the front of the car,
pulling the room key out of his pocket.
 
            “Nice car, man.” 
 
            Dean glanced behind him to see a black guy standing next to the
Lincoln, looking at it with a kind of disdainful smirk. “Uh, yeah, thanks.”
 
            “Where’s the Impala?” Dean turned slowly around, left hand going
for the knife he had tucked into the back of his jeans. The guy shook his head
and tsked, “Dean, Dean, Dean,” he pulled a Glock 9 out from behind his back,
“you know that’s a bad idea, kid.”  Dean put both hands out reluctantly.  “You
know, you’re a lot taller than the last time I saw you.  I bet little Sammy’s
growing like a weed, too, huh?”  As the guy sauntered over, Dean finally got a
good look at his face.
 
            “I don’t know, Gordon, maybe you’re just shrinking.”
 
            Gordon smiled wide, but it didn’t touch his eyes, “Funny.  You
always were the funny one.  Why don’t we go inside, and you can introduce me to
your sugar daddy?”
 
            “How about you go fuck yourself?”  Gordon threw a quick jab to
Dean’s gut, quick and sharp enough to make Dean double over.
 
            “How about you shut your smart mouth or else I’ll find a better use
for it, huh?” Gordon hissed in his ear as he pulled the knife out of Dean’s
waistband. “Key.” Dean slapped the motel key into Gordon’s outstretched hand.
 Gordon shoved him roughly into the room as soon as the key was turned in the
lock.  The bed was empty, and Dean looked frantically toward the bathroom, its
door open and light off.  Dean looked stupidly around the tiny motel room.
 
            “Where the fuck is he?”  Gordon growled from behind Dean.
 
            “I don’t…I…” Dean turned around in a circle, but Cas was just…he
was just gone.
Chapter End Notes
     This is so far from my original outline, I don't even know what's
     gonna happen.
***** Trouble (Coldplay) *****
Chapter Summary
     Dean and Cas deal with Gordon
     Cas makes a hard decision
Chapter Notes
     Sorry this is so late
     And short
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                              Trouble (Coldplay)
            Gordon pushed Dean, hard, and he stumbled across the room, still
too shocked by Castiel’s disappearance to realize how much danger he was in
from his dad’s friend.  As soon as he’d gotten his feet under him, Gordon
pushed him again and he fumbled to catch himself on the bed, flipping around to
keep himself facing Gordon, a fresh pulse of rage rising in his throat.  Gordon
huffed a laugh at him and walked over to peer into the empty bathroom.  Dean
listened to him shuffle the plastic shower curtain aside from where he sat on
the edge of the bed.  Something pinched his Achille’s heel on his right ankle
and his head shot up even as he instinctively yanked his foot away from the
bed.  Dean mouthed a relieved ‘Fuck’ and slumped just as Gordon came back out
of the bathroom.
 
            “Well, looks like his shit’s still here, so I doubt he flew the
coop,” Gordon came around the bed to stand in front of Dean, Glock still in his
hand.  “Besides, who could walk away from a sweet little piece like you?”
Gordon’s eyes gave Dean that now-familiar up-and-down, the one that made bugs
crawl under Dean’s skin and his gorge rise.  “Just look at that mouth, hm? 
Those lips were made for sucking cock.  I don’t know why John was so shocked,
Hell, I’m surprised he didn’t train you up himself.” Gordon smiled at Dean’s
dark look of disgust, “Or is that it?  Did Daddy find you sucking Mr.
Replacement’s dick and go all ‘woman scorned’?  Yeah, I bet that’s it.  No
wonder he said you weren’t a target, just your boyfriend.”  Gordon took another
step closer, putting himself between Dean’s knees, “Well, your daddy didn’t say
he had to have you back untouched, just alive.” Dean looked down at the floor
between his feet, trying mightily to control the fury that threatened to
explode out of his chest.  The very tip of the Colt he kept in the room peeked
out from under the corner of the blanket hanging off the bed.  “I figure we can
keep ourselves entertained until your man comes back and I put a bullet in his
head,” Gordon was saying as he slid his belt open.  “What’dya say, boy?”
 
            Dean smiled up at Gordon, which caused the man’s smirk to slip,
“His name is Castiel,” he said as Cas cocked the gun, “and he’s already here.” 
Castiel shot Gordon’s left leg, the bullet pulverizing calf muscle and
shattering shin bone in its path, and Dean plucked the Glock out of his hands
as he went down in a screech of pain and a jet of blood.  The report of the gun
was deafening in the tiny room and at such close range.  Dean stood up and
stepped around Gordon as he writhed on the floor in silenced agony.  Castiel
rose up from the other side of the bed like a dream, eyes wide and face
flushed.  Dean went to him and took the gun out of his hand, tossing both guns
on the bed and wrapped the older man in his arms. 
 
            Castiel clung to him, shaking and Dean could feel him trying to say
something against his neck.  Dean started to make out sounds through the
ringing in his ears.  He put his mouth to Cas’ ear and spoke loud enough for
him to hear, “We have to go.”  Castiel nodded against his neck and pointed at
the guns.  Dean gathered them and everything they’d left out of their duffles
and packed it all up.  Gordon had stopped struggling, down to little quivering
jerks and the occasional low gurgle as he bled out on the crusty motel carpet. 
Castiel joined him at the door and then they were out into the sunlight.
 
            Dean made them switch cars in the next town, ten minutes down the
highway, in a grocery store parking lot.  He was a demon about stopping for the
next four days, until Cas finally lost patience with sleeping in the SUV they’d
taken and demanded they get a room somewhere.  While Dean was in the shower,
Castiel rooted around in his bag until he found the burner cell Dean had bought
before Gordon had found them.  There was only one phone number in the call
history.  Castiel pushed the green ‘talk’ button.
 
 
            Castiel let the hot water beat a tattoo on his back, his head
falling between his arms.  He’d convinced Dean to turn northwest, but he wasn’t
sure how long they could keep going this direction before Dean caught wise to
where they were headed.  A flurry of cold air rushed in to the humid shower as
the curtain was drawn back and a naked Dean stepped in next to Castiel.  “Need
help washing your back,” he asked, his hand going to the slick of Cas’ lower
back.  Castiel turned his head and flicked the water from his eyes with a
hand.  The water was already beading on Dean’s flushed skin and in his long
eyelashes.  Castiel’s heart broke at the sight of him, so beautiful and so
terribly young. 
 
            Cas reached out, grasping the skin at the back of his neck and
pulled Dean in, his lips sliding against the younger man’s softly at first. 
Dean gasped and leaned into the contact, hands going instinctively to Cas’
hips.  Castiel slipped his tongue in between Dean’s perfect teeth, tasting the
stale coffee and vending machine donuts from earlier.  His heart tripped as
Dean brought their groins together, the younger man already hard, a hot brand
against Castiel’s hip.  Cas flipped them, putting Dean’s back to the wall of
the shower, and growled into the boy’s collar bone when he gasped in pleasant
surprise.  Castiel trailed his fingertips down Dean’s ribs and over his sharp
hip bones.  He lifted his head to watch Dean’s face as he gripped the boy’s
hard cock in one hand, reaching for the little bottle of motel shampoo with the
other.  He dribbled what was left of the bottle over the shaft of Dean’s hot
dick, ignoring his whimper at the feeling of the cold gel.  “Stand still,” Cas
commanded when Dean pushed his hips out and made a grab for Castiel’s cock. 
Keeping his strokes measured but firm, Castiel stared at Dean while he brought
him off.  The hectic patches of pink coloring his cheeks and obscuring his
freckles, how the water rebounded off Castiel’s shoulder and splashed in bright
specks across the boy’s smooth chest, his arms flexing as he struggled to keep
his hands to himself.
 
            “Cas, please…wanna touch you…” he whined.  Castiel ran a hand up
that flat stomach, past a hard pec, to grip the juncture between Dean’s neck
and shoulder.
 
            “Not yet,” he ground out and increased his pace, fist tight as he
twisted his wrist on the upstroke, thumb swiping across the slit on every pass,
concentrating on the head, until Dean’s whole body was shaking.  Castiel tilted
his head, too caught up in watching Dean fall apart in his hands to care about
his own arousal.  He wanted to memorize every twitch, every whimper, every
flick of water off the boy’s eyelashes as they fluttered with his approaching
orgasm.  Dean gritted his teeth, jaw popping, as his dick swelled in Castiel’s
hand and pulsed warm come across the older man’s stomach.
 
            “Fuck, Cas, fuck,” he groaned.  Castiel stroked him lightly through
it, putting his shoulder to Dean’s when the boy’s knees threatened to give
out.  Dean blindly sought out Castiel’s mouth as Cas let the spray wash away
Dean’s spend.  He gripped Dean’s jaw in both hands and steered him out of the
shower with chaste kisses.  He kicked the handle down to shut off the water and
followed Dean.  He dried himself and the boy off when Dean proved a little too
loose-limbed to complete the task himself.  He led Dean out to the bed and
pushed him down to the mattress.  Dean sprawled his big body out on the weirdly
pretty motel comforter, hands reaching up over his head.  His cock hadn’t even
softened and it waggled against his hip as Dean stretched his bowed legs out,
letting his knees fall open.  The boy smirked lazily up at him as Cas gazed at
him.  He could never get enough of this view, but he worried that just staring
at Dean all night might tweak the boy to what Castiel was thinking. 
 
            Castiel sighed and turned to retrieve the lube out of his bag.  He
lay his body along Dean’s, luxuriating in the heat that rolled off the younger
man’s body.  He let his right hand roam wherever it wanted, his nail trailing a
circle around a nipple here, palming a rib there.  He kept Dean’s wrists held
above his head in a loose grip as he watched his own hand trace every curve and
draw constellations on Dean’s skin, until the boy was whining and writhing
under him.  Castiel shushed him with slow, wet kisses.  Cas released Dean’s
hands and climbed between the boy’s legs, pushing his thighs back and trailing
hot kisses down them to his plush ass.  He glanced back up at Dean’s face once
before plunging down between his cheeks.  Dean’s eyes were wide and glassy, his
mouth dropped open as he panted quietly.  Castiel smirked when Dean groaned as
he laved his tongue over the crinkled skin of his pucker. 
 
            Castiel settled down on his stomach and ate Dean’s ass for what
felt like hours, a slow, sweet torture that had Dean nearly in tears, constant
pleas falling from his lips, even as he pushed his ass back onto Cas’ tongue
and his hand tightened in Castiel’s hair.  Castiel only stopped when his jaw
began to ache.  He slicked up the fingers of his left hand and proceeded to
stretch Dean as lovingly and thoroughly as when he had used his tongue, until
Dean wasin tears and his begging took on an edge of desperation.  Cas finally
rose to his knees and slicked up his cock almost absently, his eyes still
trained on Dean as he pushed the boy’s knees back and out.  Dean sobbed in
relief and gripped the backs of his knees to hold himself open for Cas.
 
            Castiel lined up and bent over, his right hand going to cup Dean’s
jaw as he pushed in, millimeter by millimeter, soaking up every micro-
expression that flitted across Dean’s face as he filled him.  He swallowed the
groan that wanted to escape his chest as he bottomed out in favor of listening
to every hissed inhale and grunted exhale from Dean.  Face pressed to Dean’s
neck, his butterfly-pulse fluttering under Castiel’s lips, he started a languid
push-pull, dragging out slowly until Dean’s heels were pushing into his ass
before giving in and inching back inside.  Dean kept trying to bring Castiel’s
face up so he could kiss him, but Cas stayed buried; in his neck, in his cheek,
in his chest, anything to keep from having to look at Dean’s face.  He couldn’t
let anything ruin this, not even his own traitorous heart. 
 
            Castiel made love to Dean until the boy was strung tight as a bow
and begging in breathless whispers for ‘more’ and ‘harder’.  When he finally
increased his pace, face scrunched up to hold back his own end, Dean let out an
exultant cry, spilling between them without a hand on his cock and Castiel
completely dissolved, pumping into Dean as they both rode the ebbing waves of
bright pleasure.  
 
            After Dean had passed out for his usual post-sex coma, Castiel lay
his body alongside him and watched him sleep.  The sweep of his long lashes
over freckled cheeks, his pink lips slightly parted, chin tucked into one
shoulder, Cas was sure he’d never seen anything more exquisitely beautiful and
his heart broke all over again.  When Dean’s eyes fluttered open at last,
Castiel suggested dinner, volunteering to go out and get them fast food.  Dean
agreed easily, stretching and promising to get out of bed when Castiel got
back.  He was pleasantly surprised at the strawberry milkshake Castiel included
in the meal he handed him when he got back.  Dean traced circles on Castiel’s
leg as he drifted back off to sleep after finishing every last drop of his
shake.
 
 
            “Wha?” Dean snorted awake to someone pounding loudly on the motel
room door.  He untangled himself from the knot of bedding, grabbing the Colt
from the nightstand as he approached the door.  He was hoping it was just Cas,
locked out because he forgot his key again, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
 
            “Boy, I know yer in there, now open up,” came Bobby’s gruff drawl
from the other side of the door, followed by more pounding on the old wood hard
enough to rattle the door in its frame.  Dean squinted back into the dark room
briefly in utter confusion before lowering the gun and sliding the bolt open. 
He turned the knob and let Bobby push through, followed closely by Sam.
 
            “Dean!” Sam cried and tackled his brother hard enough to push him
back a step.  Dean clasped his little brother to his chest and buried his face
in the smell of Sammy’s soft hair, holding back a sob.  Sam suddenly realized
he was hugging his barely-dressed older brother and pushed back against Dean’s
hold with a laughed ‘Ew, Dean!’.
 
            Dean looked up smiling at Bobby, who was watching the boys with his
hands on his hips and a soft look on his usually grouchy face.  “What are you
guys doing here?”
 
            “Good to see you, too, boy.  We’ve been good, thanks for askin’,”
Bobby groused, moving to gather the few clothes Dean had scattered around the
room, tossing a pair of jeans to the teenager.  “Here, get dressed before ya
emotionally scar yer brother.”
 
            Dean pulled his jeans on, scanning the rest of the room while he
did.  His heart sank when he realized the only things on the bed or the table
were his.  He tried to keep his voice level when he asked Bobby what he thought
he was doing.  Bobby turned to him, face drawn down in a grimace, and asked Sam
to wait in the truck.  Sam looked from Bobby to Dean, ducked his head and
trudged out of the room.  Dean pulled on a shirt while he waited for Bobby to
answer him.
 
            “Got a funny phone call a couple days ago.  I told yer daddy it was
Lee saying he’d seen you two headed back West.  I sent ‘im off and drove down
here to pick ya up,” Bobby explained calmly as he tucked the last of Dean’s
things into his duffle.  Dean handed him the Colt and let him zip up the bag. 
 
            “Cas called you,” Dean sighed, looking down at the scratchy motel
carpet.  His heart hammered in his chest but at the same time, he felt like
it’d been scooped out of his chest, leaving a raw, bloody ache in its wake.
 
            “Yeah, he sure did.  Finally manned up, so I guess that counts fer
somethin’.  Look, kid, this is really the best way things coulda gone, ya gotta
see that.  Yer gonna come home with me and I’m gonna let yer daddy know yer
safe and he’s gonna let the whole thing drop.”  Bobby sighed and placed a hand
on Dean’s shoulder as he passed.  “Put yer boots on and meet me in the truck.”
 
            “Bobby, do you really think Dad’ll just let him go?”  Dean asked,
one-part hopeful, two-parts disbelieving.
 
            “Boy, I know enough about yer daddy to keep him quiet, things he
don’t want gettin’ out bad enough he’ll do exactly what I say.  You boys’re
gonna stay with me from here on out.  I ain’t lettin’ you two get mixed up in
any more a yer daddy’s bullshit.  All that’s over now, son.  Come on, get a
move on, long drive ahead and I promised yer brother we’d stop at that donut
place as soon’s they open.”  Dean shoved his feet into his boots and followed
Bobby out to the truck, eyes trained on the cracked cement of the old parking
lot.  He was so deep in his own misery, he didn’t see the car he and Cas had
been driving idling at the end of the building, a single dark figure hunched
over the steering wheel.
 
            Bobby handed Dean the keys to his truck and slid into the passenger
seat.  He was damn-well tired of driving and letting younger hands take the
wheel for the next eight hours sounded mighty fine.  The last person he’d
expected to be on the other end of the phone number he’d come to recognize as
Dean’s had been Castiel.  As soon as John had shown up screaming about catching
Dean with the older man, Bobby had done a little research and found nothing
that made him think Dean was in any danger.  Dean had his issues, but Bobby was
sure he would never let himself get abused by some stuffed shirt tax accountant
from freaking Beverly Hills.  Now that he had Dean with him, safe more from his
father’s ill-conceived vendetta than from Castiel, Bobby had no intention of
ever letting John get his hands on his boys again.  Bobby would raise them from
now on, give them the life they deserved.
 
            Castiel watched Dean follow his uncle out to the truck.  He watched
him back out of the parking space and pull away.  He’d planned on being far
away by the time Bobby got there, but he hadn’t been able to actually drive
away with Dean sleeping innocently in the motel room.  Now that he knew Dean
was safe, Castiel put the car in Drive and headed West, occasional tears
blurring the lines on the road.
Chapter End Notes
     Whew! One more chapter to go!
***** Wait for Me (Kings of Leon) *****
Chapter Summary
     Six years later...
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                          Wait for Me (Kings of Leon)
            He looked exactly the same as Dean remembered.  His hair was a
little shorter, more gray at the temples, and his scruff a little longer, but
otherwise, exactly the same.  Dean’s heart was hammering in his chest and he
couldn’t seem to get enough air, but he’d already chickened out twice, so today
was the day.
 
            When Benny had called last week, it had seemed like Fate.  He’d
been ready to spend the entire next month searching the Pendleton area to find
him, but Benny had been good to his word and come up with a name and place of
work.  Sam had been less than enthusiastic when Dean called to let him know
where he’d be.
 
            “I’m not trying to ruin this for you, Dean, but have you thought
about the fact that he walked away?  And it’s not like he went out of his way
to contact you, I mean, he knew where you were for years and he didn’t even
call.”
 
            “I know, Sammy, and yes, I have thought about it.  Hell, it was
allI could think about for a long time.  I know he walked away, but I just…I
have to know.  I have to know why, I have to hear it from him.  I need to hear
him say he didn’t love me to my face.”
 
            “It’s been six years, Dean- “
 
            “I know how long it’s been!” He didn’t mean to snap at Sam, but
goddamn, “You could at least try to be a little more supportive, Sam,” he
murmured.
 
            Sam sighed into the receiver, “You’re right, I’m sorry.  I just
worry about you, ya know.  It hasn’t been very long since Dad and I’m just not
sure you’re, like, emotionally ready to take this step.”
 
            “Oh, are we having a moment here, Sammy?  Want me to stop by so we
can braid each other’s hair and talk about boys?”
 
            “Whatever, asshole, I was trying to be supportive.”
 
            “Well, be supportive by shuttin’ the Hell up and wishing me luck,
then, bitch,” Dean laughed.
 
            “Fine. Good luck. Jerk,” Dean could hear the smile Sam was trying
to repress, “And call me when you…get home, or whatever.”
 
            “Or whatever, got it.  Talk atcha later, bitch,” Dean hung up
before Sam could call him a jerk again, thereby winning that particular round. 
He went back to the map of Oregon on his phone with a smile on his face.
 
 
            It was kind of busy at the Gas N Sip today, but that was good.  He
stood at the back of the store by the reach-ins and watched Castiel interact
with customers and the little blonde manager for a while.  He couldn’t help the
jolt of hot jealousy that struck him when he saw Cas laughing at something the
blonde said, touching her elbow as he threw his head back.  Dean waited until
she went into the back room before getting in line at the register.  The woman
in front of him got her lottery ticket and turned to leave.  This was it, final
hour.
 
            “I’ll have some beef jerky and a pack of menthols,” Dean said,
smiling.
 
            Castiel’s eyes went wide, his mouth dropped open in surprise, “Wha-
what are you doing here, Dean?” he asked breathily.
 
            “Good to see you, too,” Dean snarked.  He hadn’t exactly expected
Cas to leap over the counter and into his arms, but he’d thought he’d get at
least a smile.  The blonde manager, Nora, according to her name tag, came up
behind Castiel with a cash drawer in her hands.
 
            “Steve, is there a problem?” she asked, bumping Castiel over with
her elbow so she could stow the drawer in the cash register.
 
            “Yeah, Steve, there a problem?” Dean asked, loading the question
with more meaning than Nora would ever know.  His eyes were locked on
Castiel’s, the older man seemingly unable to look away.
 
            “N-no, no problem, um, Nora?  Can you count my drawer out when you
lock up?  I have to…I need to go,” Castiel stammered, still staring at Dean.
 
            “Uh…okay?  Sure, I guess, if it’s an emergency…” Nora’s eyes darted
between Dean and Castiel, “I’ll, uh, call you if there’s an issue?”
 
            “Yeah, okay,” Cas muttered before breaking eye contact with Dean
and ducking into the back office.
 
            Dean shook himself a little, almost like waking from a dream and
gave Nora his winningest smile, what Sam always called his panty-dropping
smile.  She smiled back nervously, eyes automatically tracking Castiel as he
came around the end of the counter, sans blue vest, and turned to follow Dean
out the door.  Her ‘See you tomorrow, Steve’ was cut off when Castiel let the
door swing shut behind him.  Dean turned around to face him as they hit the
sidewalk running in front of the little gas station.
 
            “So, um, hi,” Dean said with a weak smile, hand going to the back
of his neck in that unconscious gesture.
 
            Castiel tipped his head, trying to reconcile the man in front of
him with the boy he knew all those years ago, “Hello, Dean.”
 
            Dean’s nerves suddenly ratcheted up and he felt exposed out here on
the street, the sound of cars splashing through the puddles left from last
night’s rain more intrusive than they should be.  “Hey, can we, um, go
somewhere?  Talk…I want to talk to you, if that’s okay?”
 
            Castiel’s face split in that big, gummy grin that always set Dean’s
heart racing, “I live down here, about a mile,” Cas points behind Dean.
 
            Dean didn’t think he could walk a mile side-by-side with Cas and
keep from trying to hold his hand or something equally stupid, “I, um, I
drove,” he points to the side of the gas station, where he’d parked Baby away
from the front doors.
 
            Cas’ face lights up at the sight of the familiar muscle car, “You
got her back?” He strides right over and runs a hand lovingly over her hood as
he walks over to the passenger side.  Dean tried to tell his heart to calm the
fuck down, Castiel touching his car like that is not equal to him touching Dean
like that, it was not.
 
            “Um, yeah, my dad found her where we left her and drove her back to
Bobby’s.  He left her there for me when he, uh…ya know, let’s go, it’s a long
story,” Dean finished gruffly, unlocking the driver’s door and leaning over to
unlock the Cas’-no, the passenger’s door.
 
            If Dean was worried about walking a mile next to Castiel, being
confined in the Impala with the man, even for the few short minutes it took to
get to his little house, was a much worse torture.  He still smelled like
lightening and cinnamon, coppery and spicy in turns, until Dean wanted to pull
over and bury his nose in the man’s scruffy neck and inhale straight from the
source.  As it was, Castiel side-eyed him and asked if he had a cold or
something, so Dean tried to stop the sniffing and breathe through his mouth. 
Dean was never so relieved as when Castiel pointed to a little white, clapboard
house at the end of a dead-end street.
 
            The two sat in the car for a moment and when Castiel made a move to
get out, Dean’s hushed voice stopped him, “You don’t have any neighbors.”
 
            Castiel stared at his little house, all alone on the end of the
street, his nearest neighbors half a block away, “No, I don’t,” he answered
simply, trying to keep all the old hurt out of his voice, before getting out of
the car.
 
            Dean followed Castiel up the short sidewalk, looking around at the
little yard as he waited for Cas to unlock the front door.  The grass was short
and neat, the sidewalk lined with a path of wildflowers he would have called
weeds if he didn’t know better, but he had feeling he knew what they were for. 
In front of the porch was a riot of the same kind of flowers and Dean could see
they expanded as they curled around the house.  Castiel stepped in and
disappeared down a dark hallway without a word.  Dean followed just as
wordlessly.
 
            He came out into a living room/kitchen that looked like it took up
the majority of the floor plan of the little house.  Castiel stood by the back
door, watching Dean look over the sparse furnishings and bare walls.  “I have
to check on something.  There are some beers in the fridge, if you want.” He
quickly ducked out the door and vanished from sight.  Dean walked over to the
sink and peered through the filmy, yellow curtains on the window to see what
Cas was doing. 
 
            The back yard was wild, the flowers from the front of house choking
out any grass that may have once grown there, bushes and twisted fruit trees
dotting the slopping ground.  Castiel was making his way through the tangled
vegetation toward three big, white boxes in the middle of a small copse of the
little fruit trees, their white blossoms falling all around him like snow. 
Dean gasped slightly, it was like a fairy tale, watching Castiel walk through
the flowers while petals dropped onto his shoulders and into his hair.  He
fully expected a unicorn to gallop by at any moment.  Dean squinted and saw
that not everything flying around out there was cherry blossom petals, some of
those things were circling Castiel’s head, then zipping off on crazy tangents,
only to come back to the white boxes.  Castiel walked out of sight behind the
boxes for a moment, popping back up occasionally as he slid drawers out of the
top of the boxes randomly, nodding to himself thoughtfully before putting
everything back together and heading back to the house.
 
            Dean backed up and opened the old refrigerator, pretending that he
hadn’t just watched Castiel walk around in a mythical dreamland.  As he stood
up with two bottles of beer in his hand and turned toward the back door, Dean
nearly jumped out of his skin because Cas was right there, smiling that dopey
smile and thanking Dean as he took a bottle for himself.  Dean exhaled loudly
and told himself to calm the fuck down, this was Cas, there was no need to be
so nervous, as the older man led him to the overstuffed couch in the living
room.  He sat on the opposite end from Castiel and wished he had the courage to
sit next to him.  The desire to feel the heat of Castiel’s thigh pressed up
against his own was almost a physical ache, but he kept his distance, still
uncertain about, well, everything.  Just because Cas had agreed to talk to him
and had invited him into his home didn’t mean what Dean desperately wanted it
to mean.
 
            After taking a deep pull of his beer, Dean broke the awkward
silence that had settled over them, “So, um, bees, huh?  What’s that about?”
 
            Castiel regarded him seriously, trying to determine if Dean was
poking fun at him.  At the look of genuine curiosity on the younger man’s face,
he answered honestly, “I’ve always wanted to keep bees, but Josie was
allergic.  I…don’t have to worry about that anymore.”  Dan opened his mouth to
ask but Castiel answered before he could voice the question, “Divorced, five
years now.” He took a slug of his beer, “She, uh, filed after I’d been gone a
month.  I didn’t contest it.”  Dean tried not to let the little spark of hope
he felt show on his face.  “But you…wow, Dean, you look…” Castiel turned wide,
blue eyes admiringly over at Dean, making the younger man flush with pleasure,
“You look amazing.  You’ve really…yeah…I don’t…Jesus,” Castiel wiped a hand
down his face, covering his eyes and ducking his head to keep from seeing
Dean’s face.  “I’m sorry…I…”  Dean took the beer out of Castiel’s hand and
placed it gently on the coffee table, alongside his own.  He scooted closer,
lacing his fingers with Castiel’s on the cushion of the couch.
 
            “Hey…hey, Cas, it’s okay.  I’m sorry to just show up like this, I
guess I should have called, but I just- “
 
            “How did you find me?” Castiel whispered, peeking out from under
his hand at Dean.  Dean’s face closed off instantly, his warm green eyes going
cold and he tried to pull his hand away from Cas’.  “No, wait…I’m sorry.  I’m
not mad, at all, Dean,” Castiel tightened his grip on Dean’s warm hand and
leaned toward him, “I’m glad…so glad you…I didn’t think you’d ever want to talk
to me again, after what I did, Dean.” Castiel smiled up at Dean’s face as it
softened, “I’m so gladto see you.”
 
            Dean finally smiled back at him, reaching into his leather jacket,
pulling a slim, black wallet out.  He flipped it open to reveal a bronze star
with the words ‘United States Marshall Service’ emblazoned on it, “Finding
people’s kinda my job now,” he laughed, “Well, now my job’s hiding people,
but…ya know, same thing really.”  Castiel chuckled and Dean continued, “I got
moved to WitSec last week.  I start in a month, so finding you wasn’t all that
hard, Steve Milton.”
 
            Castiel ducked his head again, a blush creeping up his neck, “I was
just, uh, doing what, what you taught me.”  Dean smiled and ran his hand up
Castiel’s arm to his shoulder.
 
            “You did really well, man.  Whatever you’ve been doing for six
years, it worked.  I had people looking for you for months before we got any
hint, any clue…you did good, Cas,” Dean knew he should take his hand away, but
even the feel of Castiel’s skin through his white button up was intoxicating
after all this time.  All the years between then and now seemed to be slipping
away, like a tide going out, leaving the wreckage of all that he felt for
Castiel bare to the sun.  Dean realized he was stroking Castiel’s shoulder and
he would have stopped, he would have, but Cas was leaning into it, his face
tipped over to brush his jaw along Dean’s knuckles.  A rush of lust so hot it
surprised him into jerking his hand away blew through Dean’s groin.
 
            “So, um, yeah,” Dean cleared his throat, “you’ve been doing okay,
right?  I mean, working ata gas station is a far cry from…whatever it was you
did before, ha, yeah, ya know, I’m not even sure what it was you did before.”
 
            “CPA, originally.  I, um worked for my father, until I married
Josie, then I just did our finances, business and personal.  I didn’t really
leave the house much.  That’s how she liked it,” Castiel couldn’t keep the
bitter note out of his voice, even though he’d known full well what he was
getting into when he married Josie.  Knowing the score didn’t make up for the
ten years of loneliness and misery that had been his marriage.  “But, um,”
Castiel gulped hard around the lump in his throat, “what about you?  You did
well, you, uh, you really…grew up…um, well?” he stammered, reluctant to use the
words he really wanted to.  Having Dean’s hands on him after so long, even if
it was just on his hand and shoulder was enough to reignite all that chemistry
he’d always felt around Dean.  All of the blood in his body seemed to have
migrated south, leaving his brain floundering. 
 
            “Yeah, well, that’s all Bobby,” Dean chuckled, dispelling the
growing tension.  “He made a deal with Dad, custody of us in exchange for his
continued silence on what he assured us were skeletons our father would rather
keep buried deep in the closet.”  Dean seemed to realize how his words sounded
and glanced at Castiel with a wry half-smirk before continuing, “Anyway, we
didn’t see Dad again for almost six months, when he brought the Impala, then it
was a year, then not again, until Bobby called me four months ago to tell me he
was dead. Killed on the job,” Castiel had spent the last six years in low-key
terror of John Winchester somehow finding him one day and exacting his bloody
revenge, but the way Dean paused, swallowing hard and looking away from Castiel
with tears shining in his eyes had him feeling bad that the man was dead.  He’d
clearly been a terrible father and a deplorable human being, but from Castiel’s
own experience with fathers, he knew that when it came down to it, a father was
still a father, and the lose of such was still a mournful thing.
 
            “Anyway,” Dean brushed his face on his upper arm and continued with
a watery smile, “I. uh, finished school in Sioux Falls and went on to college,
studied law enforcement, criminology, got my bachelor’s and went straight into
the Service.  Seems the way we were raised really, uh, gave me some special
skills that the Marshals could use.”  Castiel scooted closer, his urge to touch
Dean growing with every word out of the man’s mouth.  “Sammy’s studying law at
Stanford, got a pretty girlfriend and everything, livin’ a normal life…” 
Castiel finally braved his hand on Dean’s broad back.  The boy he knew, the boy
he’d fallen in love with, had just been beginning to grow into his own skin,
his muscles and sinews outstripping his mind’s ability to keep up.  Such was
life, he supposed.  There was always that brief summer in any teenager’s life
when their body raced ahead of their self, when their emotions and desires got
all muddled up with hormones and new-found power and the possibilities seemed
endless.  Castiel knew that had been part of Dean’s allure, that wild-eyed man-
child who swept Castiel up in a storm of gaudy lust at a time in his life when
he had finally accepted that nothing would ever be as colorful or as wonderful
as he had imagined it in his own brief summer.  But there had always been an
old soul behind Dean’s child-bright eyes, a sadness born of seeing the worst
life had to offer, something Castiel had only seen in adults.  The fact that he
had shared his vibrant love with Castiel so readily, so selflessly, that had
been the thing that won Castiel’s undying devotion.  His body and mind may have
finally grown into one another, but his heart and soul were still those of the
exuberant sixteen-year old boy who raised his brother to be a loving man and
had been willing to give up his own future to save Castiel.
 
            Dean turned his head to watch Castiel, wariness written all over
his face.  But there was hope there, too and Castiel couldn’t help the way his
own face shown with remembered love.  For so long, he had convinced himself
that their love had burned too bright to last, that had he stayed with Dean and
somehow found a way to live together, Dean would have grown tired of him,
resentful even, that he would have eventually felt like Castiel had stolen his
youth and pinned him down before he was ready.  Leaving Dean had been the
hardest thing he had ever done, but he knew he owed him his freedom.  And Dean
had proven his decision sound by growing up to be an incredible man; someone
who took the stain of his childhood and turned into a way to help others,
someone who looked at Castiel with an intense love even after the way they’d
parted.  Maybe Dean would have grown to resent him, maybe not, but seeing him
like this was enough for Castiel.  It was enough that he was here now, that
they were together again.
 
            Castiel leaned even closer to Dean and the younger man turned
toward him, his eyes wide and his lips parted.  Dean’s breath was coming
faster, shallow, and Castiel raised his left hand slowly, keeping his right
hand trailing smoothing circles across Dean’s back, like he would handle a
horse that might spook.  Castiel cupped Dean’s jaw and the younger man closed
his eyes with a sigh, tipping his head further into Cas’ palm.  Cas ran his
thumb across Dean’s plump lower lip and it dropped, pressing back against
Castiel’s skin.  “I never stopped loving you,” Castiel whispered, his eyes
trained on Dean’s as they fluttered open in surprise.  “I never could. 
Everything I did, running away from my life, killing a man…” Castiel choked a
little but recovered enough to go on, “leaving you in that motel room, I did
it, all of it, for you.”
 
            A tear slipped out of Dean’s eye and collected in Castiel’s hand. 
“Cas,” Dean breathed, “I missed you so much,” he all but sobbed.  Castiel
pulled Dean into himself, folding around him like origami, both hands framing
his face, still that delicate balance of the soft feminine and the sharp
masculine, climbing into Dean’s lap and pushed him back into the couch.  Dean’s
hands were a vice on Castiel’s hips, holding him tight, like Castiel would even
think about trying to get away.  But to dispel the nervous shiver he felt
running though Dean’s big hands, Castiel dipped his face down, lips just barely
brushing across Dean’s.
 
            “Tell me…you want this,” another light rasp of dry lips, “Tell
me…you love me, that you need me still,” Cas snaked the tip of his tongue out
and swiped it across Dean’s top lip.
 
            Dean’s eyes overflowed, the tears beading on his long lashes before
he could blink them back, “Love you…Cas, God, I…love you so mu- “ and Castiel
was on him.  No more teasing brush of lips, no more tests, this was a bruising
claim six years in the making.  Castiel thrust his tongue into Dean’s mouth,
soft and wet and more than willing.  Dean’s hands clasped at Castiel’s shoulder
blades, pulling the smaller man down, crushing his chest to Dean’s as Castiel
pushed his leather jacket down his arms.  Castiel broke the kiss only because
he couldn’t breathe, trapped between Dean’s mouth and his grip, a more pleasant
way to die he couldn’t imagine.  And he felt like he was dying, all the pain
and anguish of the last six years fell away like autumn leaves, leaving him
bare-boned and exposed to the sky, his soul set to ascend after a lifetime in
Hell.
 
            “Missed you…Dean…oh God how I missed you…” Tears of his own dropped
into Dean’s hair as the younger man kissed along the bolt of Cas’ jaw, working
his way down his neck and pausing at his collar bone, his lips a hot brand on
Castiel’s skin.
 
            “I need you, Cas, please…no one else…I’ve never…not since you,” Cas
gripped Dean’s jaw and drew his face up, searching those lantern eyes for the
truth and seeing it, plain as day.
 
            “Me neither…no one…I couldn’t,” Dean sealed Castiel’s confession
between his lips, his touch growing more heated, more desperate and Castiel
rolled his hips down, feeling Dean’s cock hard against his own.  They both
groaned, heads thrown back and Castiel was right back in his decadent
California kitchen again, overwhelmed and caught in the undertow.  Surrounded
and infused with Dean, his blood a boiling fire in his veins, his mind awash in
a flood of mineminemine.  Castiel felt the room shift and his head swam as he
gasped at the sense of vertigo and lust mingling, leaving him adrift and dazed.
 
            “Bedroom,” Dean growled into Castiel’s chest just as Cas got with
the program and clamped his powerful thighs around Dean’s hips.  Dean’s hands
moved down to grip his ass as he bounced him once in his arms to settle his
not-inconsiderable weight.
 
            Castiel groaned at the friction of his cock against Dean’s stomach
and wrapped his arms around the younger man’s shoulders, “Behind you, on your
right,” he answered breathlessly before attacking Dean’s neck, his tongue
licking the salty skin, teeth nipping Dean’s soft earlobe.  Dean’s only reply
was to turn them and stride quickly down the only hallway in the house,
straight into Castiel’s first and hopefully last bachelor’s bedroom.  Two long
steps took them to the queen-sized bed, it’s Spartan bedding still a disheveled
lump in the middle of the mattress.  Dean tried to drop Castiel to the bed, but
Cas wasn’t ready to let go and he dragged him down on top of him, mouth finding
Dean’s again as they shared a surprised ‘mrph’.  Dean chuckled into the kiss
and pried Cas’ arms off his neck.
 
            He levered himself up, hands braced on either side of Castiel’s
head and looked long and adoringly down, “Goddamn, Cas,” he bent to place a
chaste kiss to the corner of Cas’ mouth, “so beautiful, just like I remember…”
Dean grappled with the buttons on Cas’ shirt, soon growing frustrated and
ripping the front apart, looking sheepishly up at Castiel, who couldn’t have
wiped the grin off his face for all the money in the world.  They both broke
out laughing and Dean apologized as he sat up, but Castiel gripped the hem of
his t shirt and shoved it up until Dean gave in and pulled it over his head. 
He sighed and slung the shirt away, glancing back down to see Castiel
struggling with his belt buckle, the silver sun surrounding a star not unlike
his badge, a gift from his brother when he’d been hired by the Marshals.  Dean
batted Cas’ hands away and flicked the buckle open one-handed, smirking down at
Castiel’s look of consternation and laughed again.
 
            Castiel pushed him off in mock anger and wiggled out of his dress
slacks and boxers, ripping his socks off because he may be older, but he wasn’t
going to be thatguy, “Get your damn clothes off,” he growled at Dean as he
leaned over to get the lube out of the second drawer of his nightstand.  He was
surprised it wasn’t covered in dust, it’d been so long since he even felt the
need to jerk off in his lonely bed, the thought alone was too depressing.  That
wasn’t to say he hadn’t rubbed one out to memories of Dean in the shower that
very morning, like he did every morning, the images he held dearest to his
heart of Dean’s smile, his green eyes dark with want for Castiel, the water
beading on his lashes and trailing down his smooth chest as his hands explored
Castiel’s body sometimes the only thing that enabled him to get dressed and go
to work every day. 
 
            Once he was completely naked, Dean stopped and stared at Castiel as
he lay sprawled on the bed.  The younger man’s gaze was a caress, sparking
little frissons of lust everywhere his eyes landed and Castiel tried to will
the blush that warmed his chest away.  He was six years older and couldn’t help
but wonder if Dean was disappointed in what he saw.  He hadn’t dared hold out
hope that he would be naked in front of the man he loved ever again, so his
running routine had been ignored more often than not in the last two years, his
diet narrowing down to microwave meals he snagged at work most days.  He’d
noticed more than a few gray hairs cropping up not only on his temples, but
around his cock and across his chest lately and he knew his muscle definition
was suffering with every year that passed.  Looking at Dean, he knew he didn’t
compare.  The lithe boy of six years ago had broadened and bulked up into every
gay man’s wet dream.  His chest was still smooth, covered now in a few simple
but elegant tattoos, the sun’s rays around a star of some kind, a match to his
belt buckle on his left pec, and a black and gray Tree of Life across his ribs
on the right side.  His arms bulged, the muscles dancing under smooth, freckled
skin, another tattoo of a rose with the name ‘Mary’ and a date under it on his
left bicep, as he swung his arms nervously.  Castiel let his gaze snag on the
faint line of ginger hair that started below his belly button and widened out
into a patch of soft-looking pubes, neatly trimmed where it met his cock, which
hung heavy between his legs, his earlier erection flagging as he awaited
Castiel’s next move.
 
            “I didn’t…think it was possible,” Castiel met Dean’s eyes, his
bottom lip caught between his perfect teeth, “You’re even more gorgeous than
you were six years ago.”  Dean’s face split in a happy grin and he dove down to
capture Castiel’s mouth hungrily, covering Cas’ slighter frame and straddling
his hips.
 
            “God, I was so worried,” Dean sighed, still smiling as he worked
his mouth down Castiel’s neck.
 
            “Jesus, Dean, you have nothing to worry about! I’m the one who
should worry,” Castiel wove his fingertips through Dean’s short hair and
relaxed into the bed as Dean worked him over.  “I was old when we met, now
I’m…all flabby and I have gray pubes and I go through about a gallon of
arthritis cream a month and- “
 
            “And you’re perfect and beautiful and everything I’ve ever wanted,
so stop with the I’m-an-old-fart bullshit,” Dean grumbled as he bit lightly at
one of Castiel’s nipples.  Castiel’s back bowed off the bed as he groaned and
shoved his chest roughly at Dean’s sinful mouth.  Dean chuckled as he made his
way down Cas’ soft stomach to his twitching cock, which lay hard and leaking
into his belly button.  “Besides,” he murmured into Castiel’s skin, “gray pubes
and loose balls aside, this is still the most magnificent cock I have ever
seen.” Dean smirked wickedly up at Castiel before licking a stripe up the big
vein that ran along his shaft, flicking his tongue over the slit to capture the
drop of precum that hung there like dew.
 
            “Ah, ah, ah, ungh! Shit, Dean!” Castiel gasped. “Hey! I don’t have
‘loose balls’,” he huffed indignantly, letting go of Dean’s forearms to air
quote the younger man.  Dean laughed lowly and took the head of Castiel’s cock
in his mouth, tonguing the slit again before running the flat of his tongue
down, following his lips as he engulfed Castiel in tight, wet heat.  Castiel
cried out and his hands flew back to Dean’s hair, scritching and tugging
lightly, making the other man groan around his dick.  It had been so long and
Castiel was dangerously close already, Dean’s mouth and the sight of his big
shoulders spanning Cas’ hips lighting him up in record time.  He was just about
to pull Dean off when he let Castiel go with an obscene pop and rested his face
on the inside of Cas’ thigh, his left hand coming up to loosely stroke Castiel,
as if he couldn’t stand to not be touching the older man.
 
            “Sorry…” Dean panted, “…have to stop or I’m gonna blow.” Dean
peeked up at Cas through heavy lids and the combination of sexy and shy should
have been illegal, “I been waitin’ so long, Cas.”
 
            Castiel yanked Dean back up so he could kiss the taste of himself
out of Dean’s mouth, “You…were going to come just from sucking my dick?”  Dean
nodded wordlessly against Castiel’s neck and sucked a bruise there.  Castiel
groaned deeply and flipped them, getting Dean on his back.  Wide green eyes,
pupils blown, stared up at him and Castiel had to bend down to kiss the shocked
look off Dean’s face as he ground their hard cocks together.  “I wanted to make
this last, make it special for you,” Castiel brushed a lock of dark bronze hair
off Dean’s forehead, “but I can’t wait, either.  I want to be inside you so
badly, Dean,” he kissed up Dean’s neck to his ear, “May I?” he whispered before
licking lightly around the shell of Dean’s ear.
 
            Dean shivered from head to foot and whimpered as Cas licked and
nibbled at his ear lobe, “Cas…please…God, baby, please,” he begged.  Castiel
rumbled his approval and pulled back just long enough to slick up the fingers
on his right hand, before bending down to kiss Dean slow and wet as he opened
him up, starting with teasing circles around his rim and ending with three
fingers tenting and stroking the man’s entrance.  He reared up suddenly and
watched Dean’s face as he watched Cas slick up his throbbing cock.  His eyes
were nearly black with arousal, lips swollen and spit-shiny, cheeks blazing
pink where Castiel had been rubbing his stubble along his sharp cheekbones to
make the younger man whimper and gasp.  “I’m ready, baby, please, just…come
on…Cas, don’t make me wait…” Dean was nearly in tears.  Despite his
reassurances, Castiel knew he wasn’t prepped enough, but Dean had always gotten
off best if he was spread on Castiel’s cock as it slowly stretched him. 
Castiel lined up and fed the tip of his dick into Dean’s slick hole until he
was firmly inside.  He glanced back up to Dean’s face searching for a sign of
doubt or regret, but there was nothing but love and desire on Dean’s face as
his pink lips fell open farther in a whispered plea.  Castiel surged up,
covering Dean’s mouth with his own and swallowing his cry of pleasure as he
slid home in one solid push.  Dean gasped beneath him, fingers scrabbling for
purchase on Castiel’s sweaty shoulders as his body tried to adjust to the
sudden intrusion.  Six years without a flesh and blood dick inside him had
blurred the memory of just how incomparably fullhe felt with Castiel inside
him, like his lungs had no room to expand and his stomach was pushing up into
his throat.  The shock of it passed slowly and Dean finally caught his breath,
looking back up at Castiel frowning down at him, that adorable little crease in
his brows, like Dean was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.  Dean smiled
softly at him and reached around to grip his hips, “Move, Cas, s’okay, I’m
okay.”
 
            Castiel pulled his hips back, the tug of Dean’s inner flesh a
delicious crawl along his cock, and thrust sharply back in, helplessly.  All of
Dean’s hard-won composure flew out the window as his breath was punched out of
him again as he was filled to the brim, over and over, Cas above him breathing
hot gusting promises and praise into his face.  Dean watched him, sweating and
working to hold back.  Yeah, he was holding back.  It had been six years, not
sixty, and Dean knew that look, “Cas,” he whispered, hands framing Castiel’s
face, stilling his movements as the man looked at him, startled, “It’s okay,
baby, let go, show me how much you missed me, come on, I won’t break, show me,
Cas, show me, baby.”  Castiel’s face crumbled and he kissed Dean once, long and
deep, before finally, finally letting loose and building up to a real pace. 
Bracing his left hand next to Dean’s head, his right cupping Dean’s neck as he
fucked into him harder and faster than he thought he was capable of anymore,
all the old urgency and fire building up and spilling over into a sudden need
to hammer his love into Dean, flesh and bone, blood and breath, until Dean
knew, until Dean could see, that he was everything, everything that mattered in
the whole wide world.
 
            “Dean…fuck…love you…God, I love you…please…you have to…please,
Dean…please see…” Castiel whimpered desperately, his hand tightening on the
side of Dean’s neck, pulling him into Dean, their breath mingling as he slammed
into the younger man, his hips pistoning hard enough to push Dean inch-by-inch
up the crappy second-hand mattress.
 
            “Cas…yeah, Cas…like that, baby…fuck yeah…oh fuck…so
good…ungh…love…please…gonna…gonna make me…fuck, Cas, Cas…Castiel…ah…ah…ah,”
with a grunt, Dean was coming between them, his own hand barely touching his
dick where it was trapped against his stomach before he spilled hot pulses over
his fist.
 
            Castiel plunged into him one final time, hips trembling as he
emptied deep inside his love with a sob.  It was like all the aching, endless
desolation of the last six years was pouring out of him, evaporating inside the
searing heat of Dean’s soul and Castiel gasped with relief, his hands petting
the sides of Dean’s face as he cried into the kiss that Dean pulled him into.
“Shhh, baby…it’s okay…Cas, baby, it’s all better now…I’m here…it’s okay…I’m
yours, Cas…I’ve got you…I’ve got you.”  Dean pulled Castiel’s head down to his
neck and let the other man cry into his skin, holding him through the catharsis
they both needed to wipe away their time apart.   Dean kissed Castiel’s tears
away as he wound down and smiled into the face of the man he would spend the
rest of his life loving.
Chapter End Notes
     I just can't leave it on a tragic note, it's just not in my DNA
End Notes
     Castiel is so boned.
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