The Word: Buss
Castiel watched his human charge stumble out of yet another den of iniquity and toward his beloved automobile. Shitfaced. Dean had taught him the term last week, and now seemed an appropriate time to apply it.
"Hey, baby," Dean cooed as he approached the Impala. "You didn't let any of these other cars mess with you while I was gone, did you? No, of course you didn't. You're a fierce bitch, aren't you? Yeah, that's my girl." He reached to unlock the driver's side door and immediately dropped his keys in a mud puddle.
While Cas didn't necessarily understand why Dean was talking to an object that was incapable of responding, he did know that he had not risked his entire garrison to raise this man from perdition only to have him cause an inebriated automobile accident and die. Again.
He was beside the man instantaneously. "Dean."
He whirled around to face the angel, eyes widening in surprise at his proximity. His body seemed to want to keep spinning, and he reached out blindly in an attempt to level himself. Cas reached forward, gripping his shoulder in one steady hand. His other came up and pressed two fingers to his forehead, sobering the human with a thought. Dean blinked at him for a moment before he could register what had just happened.
He scowled into the angel's calm blue eyes. "What'd you do that for?"
"I did not raise you so that you could die in an automobile accident while inebriated."
"Then beam me up to my motel room! Don't sober me up."
The angel tilted his head, once again confused by a human. These lesser beings could never seem to make up their minds for even a fraction of a millennia. "You did not wish for me to transport you before."
"It's better than being dry, dude." He ran a hand through his short hair, not seeming to notice that Cas' hand was still resting on his shoulder. "Now I've got to go find another bar."
"We are standing in front of one."
Dean sent a scathing look over Cas' shoulder at the building he had so recently vacated. "They cut me off." He gave a weary sigh and empty smile to the angel. "And the search is on for another honorable establishment."
"A den of iniquity is hardly an honorable establishment."
Dean waved off the argument, shrugging off Cas' hand so that he could extract the Impala keys from the puddle. "They serve beer and Jack, that's all that matters."
"Was helping." Dean spun back around, keys splattering muddy water onto Cas' pristine trench coat. Instead of holding the smoldering fury that Cas had come to expect, Dean's face seemed to crumple at his own words. His features folded in on themselves until the only expressions left were pain and helplessness. His very being radiated it.
"What am I supposed to do, Cas? I always act the big brother, like I've got all the answers." He paused, looking back toward the Impala as if it held some solution. Finding none, he turned back to his angel. "But I don't. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. What am I supposed to do?"
Cas reached out his hand and laid it on the man's shoulder, once again steadying him. "We must have faith, Dean."
The sound Dean made couldn't even be called a laugh. It was devoid of any humor or happiness. He looked down, not having enough energy to meet Cas' eyes. "You know I don't believe in your father, Cas. Have faith? He's not even there!"
"But I am." Cas tightened his hold on Dean's shoulder, willing him to look up. When he still didn't, some force drove Cas forward, telling him that his charge needed this comfort. He bussed dean's forehead, lips briefly meeting the hunter's skin, then gone in an instant. He didn't appear to notice the way Dean stiffened at the contact. "Your mother used to tell you that angels are watching over you. If you cannot have faith in my father, have faith in her. Have faith in me." He gave the man's shoulder one last squeeze of assurance, then turned to go.
Dean's arms shot up, locking the angel's hand to his shoulder when he would have let it drop away. "So that's it? You tell me to have faith in you, and then you're just going to walk away?" His voice had gone from lost to determined. "Have faith in you. Why should I? You're going to have to do a hell of a lot to prove it before I can ever do that."
Cas stood stock still, not knowing what Dean wanted from him. "I have done much for you. I raised you from Hell."
Dean's fingers tightened painfully on the angel's hand. Cas glanced down at them and they loosened instantly, but Dean still wouldn't let him go. His eyes locked onto Cas', intense and vulnerable. "For your father. For the world. Not for me. What would you do for me, Cas?"
The silence between them stretched out, each staring into the other's eyes, weighing the question. Cas had no idea what his human expected him to do, but Dean must have found his answer. His eyes grew hooded, his grip slipping away from Cas' hand.
"Probably not much, right? Hell, we're probably less interesting than reruns of Days of Our Lives, and that ain't worth much. Whatever. Should of never asked an angel." He turned back toward the Impala, keys in hand.
Dean froze, back still turned toward Cas. "Come again."
For a moment Cas thought Jimmy had spoken through him, but a quick check showed him safely dormant in the back of his mind. Castiel had indeed spoken. The bigger shock, though, was that he meant it. "I would try anything to ease your suffering, Dean. You are my charge—my friend. I do not wish to see you in pain."
Dean turned back to him, eyes searching and vulnerable again. "You'd help me forget? Just for a while, you'd help me forget?"
Cas couldn't stand seeing the painful cracks play across Dean's soul. For such fragile creatures, humans were able to put up with far too much suffering during their short lives. "If it was within my power, yes."
Dean knew that Cas had no idea what he was talking about, but he couldn't help the bright streak of hope that flashed through him at the angel's response. "Then take us back to my motel room?"
Cas complied wordlessly, pressing two fingers to the man's forehead. Dean stumbled with the slight impact and opened his eyes in his motel room. Cas was looking around, curious. "Where's Sam?"
"Different room." Dean took a step forward, invading Cas' personal space. "We spend so much time together that eventually we need a night to ourselves."
Cas turned back around, another question already forming on his lips. Dean cut him off, reached out and tangled one hand in the angel's messy hair—he's wanted to do that for so long—another wrapping around the back of his neck, and pulled him in for a hungry kiss.
Castiel freezes as Dean's lips seal to his. He waits for his father to intervene, for his brothers to appear, for Sam to walk in, for Dean to stop…anything. He waits for something to happen, because he doesn't know what to do.
Dean pulls away just far enough to look into his eyes. "Anything?" His voice it raw and holds a level of vulnerability Cas has rarely seen in the hunter.
And Cas doesn't even have to think about it anymore. "Anything."
Dean's mouth slams back over Castiel's, hungry, reaching, searching for that promise. It's awkward, and Cas still doesn't know what to do, but he tries. He tries to match Dean's movements—to thrust with his tongue, suck just right, nip at Dean's lips and lick away the sting. Their teeth end up clashing, and Dean lets out a small sound that on anyone else would have been a giggle. He breaks away, pulling back far enough to smile into the angel's frustrated face.
"I appreciate the enthusiasm, dude, but why don't you just try to learn things one at a time?" His tongue flicks out along the seam of Cas' lips, teasing him.
"I do not know where to begin," he admits, because Cas is nothing if not embarrassingly honest.
Dean smiles indulgently. "Well, I've never complained about being the teacher in this subject. Just follow my lead, and try to do what feels good, alright?"
He doesn't give him time to answer before he's kissing him again. This time, at least, he slows a bit, giving Cas time to catch up. The angel hesitates at first, barely moving his lips at all against the hunter's. Dean's tongue reaches out, tempting, enticing Castiel to join in.
It works. He's still hesitant, but his lips begin to move with the hunter's. Puckering, relaxing, tongue making long, slow sweeps into foreign territory. His hands come up, awkwardly hover for a moment, and then slide around Dean's waist. Dean tilts his head and Cas follows. The hunter smiles into the kiss and he guides the naïve angel's head in the opposite direction for a better angle.
He moans as they begin to really kiss, tongues fucking in and out, sucking, nipping. He wants to go slow with Cas; he really does. After all, it's not like he's done this before. He deserves to be gradually introduced into it. But, god, it's so hot.
He manages to drag his hands away from Cas' gorgeous hair long enough to strip off his own leather jacket. His hands fall next on Cas' trench coat, but freeze when he feels the angel stiffen against him. He pulls away slightly, trying to meet the angel's eyes. "Cas?"
He doesn't want to meet the hunter's inquiring gaze. "Dean. My vessel…it is male."
Dean raised his eyebrows in silence, waiting for the punch line. "Yeah, I knew that, Sherlock. Your point?"
Cas looks up, searching the human's eyes for any sign of disgust. "This does not bother you?"
Dean grins at him, shakes his head. "Not in the least. It's sexy. Girls—well, girls are soft and all curves, but sometimes what you really want is solid, firm muscles, you know?" He reachs under the trench coat to run a hand up Cas' clothed chest, making the angel jump. He chuckles, reaches back up to slide the coat from his thin shoulders. "Believe me, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want it—didn't want you."
The coat rustles as it falls in a heap on the floor. Cas' eyes fall to Dean's lips. "Dean. Please."
Dean doesn't have to be told twice. His lips lock back on the angel's as he loosens his tie, fingers finding their way to the buttons of his dress shirt. Cas' own hands jump forward to Dean's plaid button-up, eager to keep up. They stumble over the small pieces of plastic, growing more and more frustrated. His lips stop moving as he focuses all his attention on forcing the vile minions of evil through the appropriate holes.
Dean chuckles low in his throat and pulls back to help, making quick work of his own buttons as well as Cas'. The angel lets out a surprised groan when Dean pulls them back together, bare chests meeting for the first time, thin blue tie caught between them. Dean is tempted to echo him. It's been far too long since he's felt a man's chest against his, and since it's Cas'…
Cas' hands slide under Dean's unbuttoned shirt, seemingly of their own accord. They caress Dean's skin tentatively, almost light enough to tickle. He maps out the rippling muscles of his stomach, ribs, and sides before sliding around to caress his back, marveling at the pure heat radiating from him.
Dean groans into the kiss, leaning into Cas' hands, willing him to go farther. His own hands unbuckle the angel's belt, smoothly sliding the leather from the loops in the dress slacks and unbuttoning them for good measure. Cas doesn't even notice, too engrossed by the stunning feeling of his hands against Dean's skin. He only tears them away long enough for Dean to shove his suit jacket down and off his shoulders to join the trench coat in a puddle on the floor.
Dean steps forward, crowding Cas into taking a step back, then another. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he loses his balance, tumbling backward. Dean lets him go as he falls, watching as his rumpled angel lands spread eagle on the ratty bedspread. Slacks unbuttoned, open shirt spread wide to show off a thin muscular chest, loose tie snaking off to the side like a forgotten kite string. Lips red and swollen from Dean's ministrations. Eyes half mast.
He's never looked more human.
Castiel whines at the loss. He looks up to Dean with pleading blue eyes, reaches for him. Dean never could resist puppy eyes, but he just wants to admire his angel for a moment longer.
"In a minute," he assures him, leaning down to press a kiss to his collarbone. Cas hisses at the new sensation, hand trying to tangle in Dean's hair. He grins and pulls away, kneeling at the end of the bed. "In a minute."
He sets to work removing the angel's dress shoes and socks. Cas props himself up on his elbows in order to see his charge. "Dean," he pleads, looking as if he's about to cry if Dean doesn't get the hell up off the floor and start kissing him again right now. Dean grins up at him, dropping a kiss on the knee in front of his face. "In a minute," he repeats.
He unlaces his own boots and stands to toe them off, then strips off his socks. One more glance at his dazed angel has him shrugging out of his shirt, too. He wants this to last, to go slow, but damn. Cas is wearing that look that makes him seem like he's already been fucked six ways to Sunday. And the way he keeps staring at Dean, pleading with his eyes.
Cas lifts his hand up in silent plea again, and this time Dean goes. He grabs the hand out of the air, kisses the palm. His eyes fix on the slim figure below him, trying to gauge his reaction. Cas shivers at the contact. His eyes slide almost shut, but he refuses to let them close that last bit. He wants his eyes fixed on Dean, on his eyes, his bare chest, his lips.
Dean kisses his way down the arm, pushing the sleeve of the dress shirt down as he goes. He pauses at the wrist and inner elbow to swirl his tongue over the sensitive skin and watch Cas shiver with sensation. Dean brings his lips back to Cas', who kisses him enthusiastically. He's a fast study, and the kiss isn't nearly as awkward as before. Dean lingers, wanting to stay, but knows there's so much else he could be doing that Cas has yet to experience.
He finally manages to drag his lips away from Cas', who gasps for breath. Dean takes a moment of pride that he can even make an angel breathless, then kisses his way down his scruffy neck. Cas leans his head back, instinctually giving him better access as he licks over his jugular and moves on to his collarbone. He feels the body beneath him startle as he bites down, smoothing the sting out with his tongue. Cas moans long and loud, head coming up immediately afterward as if he can't believe he made a sound so wanton. It makes Dean laugh and smile up into the startled blue eyes. "If you make those kinds of sounds now, what are you going to do when I get to the good part?"
The angel's eyes widen, at once looking both scared and excited. "It gets better?" His voice sounded strangled.
Dean doesn't bother answering, just laughs.
He moves down the thin chest, scattering kisses until he comes to a nipple. He glances up to make sure Cas is watching before he licks the rough surface of his tongue all the way up the sensitive little nub. Cas' whole body seems to spasm at the contact. A gasp is ripped from his throat before his teeth clamp down on his lower lip, holding back any other sounds that were trying to escape. Dean smiles and blows a cool breath across the wet skin, making it pebble and Castiel arches beneath him. He lowers his head and takes the raised nub into his mouth, scraping his teeth over it, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, and sucking.
A low moan reverberates up from the chest below him and into Dean's mouth. "Dean—" The man kisses his way across his chest and repeats with the other nipple until Castiel is pressing himself up into Dean's mouth, gasping for air. Dean pulls away, sparing one last cool breath against damp heated skin before moving down, pressing kisses and little bites into the angel's ribs and sharp hip bones, the being writhing beneath him. "Dean—"
Dean shushes him, eyeing the straining tent in the dress slacks below. He probably owes it all to Jimmy's previous experience that Cas hasn't already cum. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the zipper, making his hips buck upward, seeking any kind of friction. Dean moves back up Cas' body to press a kiss to the angel's quivering stomach. "Shh. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
Oddly enough, those seem to be the words Cas needs to hear. The fists clenched at his side ease open, one coming up to grasp at Dean's short hair. The man dips his tongue into Cas' navel and the fingers in his hair tighten almost until they're painful.
Dean lifts himself up, balancing on one arm as he slowly lowers the zipper of the dress slacks. Cas holds deathly still except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest, whimpering as Dean's knuckles brush against his boxers.
"Good," Dean whispers, sensing the angel needs this encouragement. He presses a quick kiss to those lovely hipbones once again. "I'm going to take your pants off, ok, Cas? Can you lift your hips a bit for me?"
The angel immediately complies, arching his hips up off the bed. Dean smiles at his eagerness and grips the waistband of both the slacks and boxers, carefully easing them down. Cas gasps a couple of times, but tries to hold still while Dean works. He drops down off the edge of the bed to ease them off completely and stands staring at his gloriously half-naked angel, clothed only in an open shirt and tie. His cock curls up toward his stomach, tip already gleaming with precum.
To think he actually once dared to call him junkless.
Dean shucks his own jean and considers following them with his boxers, but decides against it. They may be the last bit of control he has left.
Cas shivers and it's all the invitation Dean needs. He kneels above the angel, bringing his lips back up to meet his own. Cas kisses him ravenously, all hunger and excitement and no finesse, and by God if it's not the hottest kiss Dean's ever had. He breaks away far too soon, his own breath nearly as ragged as the angel's.
"Scoot up the bed until your legs are on it." Cas immediately scrambles backward, eager to do what Dean says. The hunter stays put, Cas' movements leaving the man even with the angel's erect cock.
Dean runs a hand over one of his hips, trailing his hand closer and closer until it can finally wrap around the base of Cas' dick. He pumps his fist slowly up and down. Once. Twice. Cas comes unglued at the seams, hips leaving the bed and writhing as he moans with such passion that Dean's own cock twitches. The man swallows back his own desires and leans down, letting one hot breath blow across the head of Cas' need before his lips close around it.
The angel's throat works, but no sound escapes as he bucks up off the bed into Dean's hot mouth. Dean tries to relax his throat as much as possible, tries not to gag. His hands come up to hold, caress the angel's slim hips before locking them in place, giving Dean control. He slowly pumps his head up and down, tongue flicking along the underside all the way up to press against the slit, tasting salt and precum and pure, raw need. Cas groans out his name, the first sound he is able to make since he entered Dean's mouth. The single syllable reverberates straight down to Dean's dick, making his breath hitch.
Dean reaches up and slides two fingers into Cas' panting mouth. He closes his lips around them and begins sucking. His jaw clenches involuntarily as Dean hits a particularly sweet spot with his own mouth.
Fingers slick, Dean gently pulls away from both Cas' mouth and cock, drawing a high-pitched keen of loss from the angel. He smoothes a hand over his hip, settling him. "Raise your knees for me, Cas."
The trusting angel complies in a heartbeat. Dean nips at his hipbone once again as his slick fingers reach back past Cas' straining cock between his legs to his small, puckered entrance. The angel freezes, breath hitching as Dean begins to slowly massage the clenched muscles. "Dean?"
Dean makes soothing noises as he slides up the slim body beneath him as far as he can, pulling Cas's head down the rest of the way so that he can kiss him. "It'll feel weird at first, Cas. It will hurt, but I swear it get's better, ok? I promise it will get better."
After a moment Cas nods nervously, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. "Anything."
Dean leans forward and catches that lip between his own teeth before soothing it with his lips and tongue. He continues kissing him as he slowly—and as gently as he possibly can—slides a finger into Cas. The angel hisses and freezes beneath him, but doesn't pull away. Dean draws him into another kiss as he begins to move his hand, carefully twisting and massaging the muscles into relaxing. Dean can tell when Cas finally begins to feel good because he starts kissing him back, transferring his hands from where they had fisted in the bedspread to Dean's shoulders. He arches up slightly and rubs himself against Dean, seeking friction between their flush bodies.
Cas' hips stutter to a halt as Dean slips in a second finger. He clenches his eyes shut as his body tried to adjust. Dean's lips move to his neck, sucking out a hickey as his free hand moves down to his partner's cock, picking up the rhythm where he left off. He waits until Cas' hips start moving with his strokes before he even dares to move his fingers. He slips them in even further, seeking, until his fingertips brush across Cas' prostate.
The angel's eyes fly open and his hips buck, nearly dislodging Dean. He stares in round-eyed wonder down at the hunter. "What…?"
Dean kisses the look of shock off of his face as he hits the spot again, causing the angel to convulse. "I told you it would feel good.
Dean returns his attention to Cas' nipples as he continues to stretch him, strong fingers twisting, scissoring, and massaging within the ring of muscle. This time when he slips in a third finger Castiel only moans, hips jerking mindlessly as Dean massages his prostate.
The pitiful cry Cas makes as Dean pulls away from him is nearly his undoing. He looks around wildly, cursing when he sees his bag is all the way across the room, lying in the corner he had tossed it upon his arrival. He presses a quick, hard kiss against the angel's mouth to stem his cries. "Two seconds," he whispers against his lips before launching himself across the room and tearing into his bag. He hears a quick intake of breath as the chilled air of the room hits Cas, but he doesn't cry out.
Dean finds the lube quickly and kicks off his boxers before climbing back onto the bed. Castiel stares transfixed at his now naked lover, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. He spares a single glance up at Dean's face before reaching out cautiously, wrapping his fist firmly around the base of Dean's cock, and pulling slowly down his length.
Dean falls forward onto his arms, Cas' name forced from his lips. The angel smiles and repeats the action. Dean's world narrow to his angel's fingers, inexperienced but inquisitive and willing to imitate Dean's past actions. His eyes slide shut as Cas explores him, recalling as many of Dean's previous ministrations as he can.
His hand closes around Cas' wrist when he feels his balls tighten, knows he's getting too close. There's no way he's cuming in his hands when he has an angel spread deliciously out before him. "Not a good idea," he grinds out, leaning his forehead against Cas' to catch his breath.
His lover's face falls instantly, replaced by doubt. "I did it wrong?"
"No! No," he assures him, pressing kisses to his lips until he relaxes. "Trust me, you were doing it very right. I just don't have to control for that right now."
Cas looked more confused than ever. It felt good, hadn't it? Was that not the point?
Dean finds the lube where it had fallen beside them and squeezes some out onto his fingers. Castiel watches, fascinated, as he spread it along the length of his cock, rubbing a few more times than was strictly necessary. He forces his hand away and lets his slick fingers slide down to where Cas is still loose from Dean's earlier ministrations. He slides two fingers in, relishing the angel's moans as he makes sure he's ready.
He pulls away before he can become too hypnotized, laying down over the angel and nudging his legs a little farther apart, knees a little higher to accommodate his hips. On impulse, he grabs Cas' hand from where it lays on the bed, twining his fingers through his own. He nudges at Cas' opening, causing the angel to gasp and roll his hips. "Ready?"
Cas presses himself up into Dean, eyes pleading. "Please. Dean—"
That's all the encouragement he needs. A single thrust has him sliding smoothly into his angel, gasping at the tightness and heat and oh god, how had he been living without this? He shifts his hips and slides in further, all the way to the hilt. Cas is calling his name beneath him, already thrusting his hips against him. "Dean. Move!"
Dean pulls back surges forward, both groaning with the pure sensations of the movement. Dean shifts, searching, until—there! Cas convulses beneath him as he hits the angel's prostate. His teeth come down on Dean's shoulder, latching on to help him ride the pleasure coursing through his body. Dean aims every thrust at that sensitive target, watching as his angel comes apart in his arms.
Cas pulls his teeth away from Dean's shoulder to call his name, amazed by the beauty of such an animalistic act. He is an angel. He shouldn't be here, but there is no way he could ever be able to stop now. His hips move of their own accord, rising to meet Dean's as every thrust builds on the last, his pleasure ratcheting up until it's too much.
His body tightens around Dean and Castiel screams his name as he climaxes. Dean's hips stutter to a halt as his angel squeezes him, drawing out his own orgasm. His lips seal over Cas' to muffle their cries, riding the waves of pleasure as they slowly die down. At that moment, they're both in Heaven.
They're left gasping, pulling away just far enough to stare into each other's eyes. Stunned blue meets amazed green as both search for any words that would be worthy of the moment; they come up with none.
Dean eventually pulls out, kissing the whimper from Cas' lips as he does. He rolls them onto their sides and tucks Cas' head against his shoulder. The angel curls around him willingly, arms wrapping around the hunter's waist.
Dean feels the angel's lips move against his shoulder just before he drifts into sleep. "Anything," he whispers.
He smiles into Cas' hair, touched more than he would ever admit. "Anything," he replies.