You are all incorrigible, and it's your fault I haven't updated 'The Winged Man' – Feel bad. So...this so filth, and vague almost but not quite plot – this is the last (LAST) update, unless I watch another western, so I hope you like it
Dean keeps Castiel by him for long enough for him to forget what life was like without him. He gets used to his new routine, riding with Sam and Castiel (who now has his own horse) and bedding down for the night in their rugs, a fair distance from Sam.
Unless they've had trouble that day, leaving Dean tired or injured, he turns Castiel over, removing as few items of clothing as possible in the cold of the night, thrusting up into him with one hand fisted underneath the boy, pulling him towards his finish. Castiel is a different boy at night, when they travel he's quiet, focused and held up in his own thoughts. By the time Dean's worked his way inside, taking his time now to open him with spit covered fingers, Castiel's face is buried in his arms, half sobbing with need and shoving his ass back against his fingers.
"fucking do it." He whines, clenching against the fingers in an attempt to fill himself. "Dean."
"Shut up." He mutters, and Castiel goes silent because he's been told to be. Another reason Dean's kept him around, the boy knows when to heel.
Once he's inside, Castiel doesn't remain silent, but then neither does Dean, and he can't care much about that. He has to admit, if only to himself that Castiel is a sight like that, legs thrown wide, knees scuffing the dust as he bucks, one hand thrown out and fisting the earth and the other folded under his face as he keens and whines into the dirt, Dean licking the sweat at the back of his neck and jerking the boy's slick cock one handed, feeling it twitch and ooze over his fingers.
When the boy spends over the dry ground, filling his hand with pearly fluid and shaking out his last, Dean already gone soft and slick inside of him, he curls him on his side, one hand still down his slacks, thumbing the head of his spent dick till he whimpers and jerks. Rubbing his face against the smooth planes of his face and neck.
Castiel breathes in the smell of them, the tobacco and whisky of a hundred bars and the sweat of a man riding for hours underneath wool and leather.
On the nights when they happen to be in town, sharing flea ridden guest house chambers or backrooms, he sucks him down quietly so Sam can sleep, feeling Dean harden and soften again in his mouth, blunt tip at his throat. Dean jerks him rapidly in reward, watching his face the whole time.
He's happy. Happy to be had like this, to give himself and get something back, something worth the hard life they live.
They live that life for years.
Dean notices the changes in him but they don't really register. Castiel has grown taller, his frame packing on more muscle, compact but stronger. His smooth face roughens periodically with dark scruff, when they're too out of the way for him to find space and time to shave. His voice has broken, turning deeper than Dean's own, deeper even than Sam's. His hands develop calluses and he learns to shoot, to ride and fight almost as well as the brother's do.
Every time he changes, watching his fragile boy's body harden into something older and stronger, he wonders when Dean will see it, when he'll cast him aside. Dean has always wanted him because of his youth, his softness – he doesn't lust for men like himself, rough and covered in hair and scars.
He waits for Dean to take up another boy, and when he doesn't he can't understand why.
Things are changing in his mind as well, and he isn't as content as he once was with being fucked into the dirt or shoved onto his knees. He still likes Dean well enough, wants him as much as he ever did, but in new ways.
One night, lying on top of the threadbare rugs and feeling Dean on top of him, he strikes out, fighting to thrown Dean off and onto his back.
It's easy now that they are of more equal strength.
He moves on top of him, sinking down on Dean's cock and steadying himself so that Dean, looking up at him with combined anger and interest, can't help but stay where he is. Castiel rides him roughly, head tipped back and eyes squeezed shut against the sight of the night sky. Dean goes deeper like this, and it feels indescribably good, painful and hot and tight, but good. Dean grunts his appreciation, hands grasping his hips and moving him steadily when Castiel's own rhythm begins to falter.
When his body begins to lock up, clenching and pulling tighter with every down stroke, they both lose whatever control they had, rutting without thought and shuddering as one mass, filled and slicked with release.
Turning Castiel off of him and onto the ground, Dean lies on his back and pants harshly. Castiel watches him, wondering what he's done, why he did what he did.
"Getting strong, aren't you?" Dean eventually mutters, not as pissed as Castiel thought he'd be.
That's all the warning he gets before Dean's on top of him, two fingers sliding into him and his face right up close. He spreads his legs obediently and lets Dean take what he wants.
That's the beginning of a change in them, and it runs that way for a while as Castiel continues to grow and change, becoming one of the three instead of an additional piece of baggage to be unloaded and shunted about.
Until one night, wrapped fiercely tight underneath their coverings, Dean's heavy mouth on his, blunt hairs scratching against his already reddened lips, Castiel turns so that Dean is beneath him, finding a place between his legs and feeling the heat there, even through the dense fabric. Its only then that he realises what he wants, and even more strangely, Dean gives it to him, only nodding in a kind of defeated way and moving onto his knees so that Castiel can shove his clothing out of the way.
Castiel gets to take his turn as the man he's become, and the first time he slides into Dean it's rapturous. Filthy and immediate and hard, but so good, to take such a strong man underneath him, to feel Dean shudder and clench, knowing that he hasn't let any other man have him like this.
They become equal and yet still co-dependent. More so than Sam and Dean ever were by any stretch. It's a thing little spoken of, but accepted, that Dean will not replace Castiel, and that as on their first night, Castiel will not leave him for anything. Sam's content to leave them as is, and they have nothing to gain by discussing it further. So they don't.