Dean was on his fourth infomercial of the night when his phone rang. "This is Dean, go ahead."

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas." He shifted on the lumpy motel bed, trying to find a comfortable position. "Thought you'd be here by now."

He heard Castiel sigh. "I'm afraid I won't be able to join you and Sam on this hunt as I'd promised."

Dean stopped fidgeting and turned off the TV. "Something happen?"

"Yes." Cas sighed again, but Dean thought he sounded more annoyed than anything. "I'm caught in a binding circle. I can't leave."

"Shit. You okay?"

"I'm fine. The circle hasn't been tended to and and it's only strong enough to be hindering, not damaging. The magic should dissipate come dawn."

"But until then you're stuck there?"

"It would seem so."

"Well, that sucks."

"I would have to agree."

Dean leaned back and cracked open another can of beer. "Guess it's just as well, the hunt wasn't as complicated as we'd thought. We're already back at the motel." In fact, it was late enough that Cas' absence had begun to worry him just a bit, although he obviously wasn't going to come out and say that.

Sometimes Dean could almost hear Castiel's brow furrow. "Did I wake you?"

"Nah. Twinged my back and couldn't sleep. And the motel only had singles open so I can't even bug Sam and have him keep me company. I've watched the same infomercial with this guy shouting about his super mop, like, three times now, Cas. I'm going nuts here." Dean scowled. "Y'know, I can actually hear the jerk snoring through the wall."

"How dare he?"

Dean grinned. "See? You'll get this whole sarcasm thing yet." He heard Cas' breath catch, like he'd been about to say something and decided against it. "Something on your mind?"

It was a moment before he answered. "Dean, how would humans use their phones during intercourse?"

Dean almost choked on his beer. "Jesus. Warn a guy before you say shit like that."

He could almost feel the wave of irritation coming from Castiel's end of the conversation. "This is why I wasn't going to say anything."

Dean bit his lip hard until he was absolutely positive he wasn't going to laugh. He knew that would be a dick thing to do, it wasn't Cas' fault he didn't know human stuff, Cas would get pissy and Dean would be right back to watching the Shamwow guy until dawn. "No, Cas, man, it's cool. That was just the last thing I expected you to say." He did laugh just a little bit then, because really, this was a ridiculous conversation. "Why would you even think to ask that?"

He heard a low grunt of annoyance on the other end of the line - Dean knew it made him a bad friend but embarrassing Castiel was always awesome. "I tried to call earlier and my phone intercepted another call, a conversation between a man and a woman. At the end of it the woman said for him not to forget they had a date for 'phone sex' later."

"Cas, I thought we had the whole 'privacy is is one of those things humans take seriously' conversation."

"It was interesting. I'm in an empty field, Dean, there aren't many diversions. I was just trying to figure out the logistics."

"Okay, it's not..." Dean chuckled. "It's not people actually having sex with their phones. At least I hope people aren't, because man, that sounds uncomfortable. When people can't actually get together lots of times they'll call each other up and talk to get each other off. Y'know, dirty talk, that kind of thing." Dean grinned. "Knew a chick once who wanted to be a poet, she used to write the filthiest stuff and read it..."

"I'm familiar with erotic poetry, Dean."

And that was the second time Dean almost choked on his beer. "Shit, Cas, you're on a roll today." He put the can safely back on the bedside table. "Why?"

"Because it's scripture." Castiel sounded amused. "You haven't actually read much of your Bible, have you Dean?"

"Um...well, I've been brushing up on Revelation lately." By which he meant I've been letting Bobby read it and tell me what I need to know, but he figured that was close enough. "Besides, you said most of the Bible was crap, anyway."

"The whole document is worth study. It's true, there are liberties taken but there's great beauty to be found as well."

"Pastor Jim preached to us a lot when we were kids, Cas, but he never mentioned there being any smut in the Bible."

"Perhaps you simply didn't understand it."

It wasn't as if Dean had anything else to do. "So go ahead. Hit me up."

"All right." Dean heard him shifting around, like he was sitting down and getting comfortable. "It begins: 'Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine. Because of the savour of thy good ointments thy name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins love thee. Draw me, we will run after thee: the king hath brought me into his chambers: we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will remember thy love more than wine.'"

"Now translate that from fancy to English, Cas."

"The poem is a dialogue between two lovers, who meet in secret and must endure separation. She begins by entreating him to kiss her, that the ecstasy he gives her is greater than that from wine. The sound of his name makes her feel as overwhelmed as the scent of fine perfume, and if he draws her in she will follow gladly. She's given herself to him and is drunk on his presence."

Dean didn't know if Castiel was doing it on purpose, but as he spoke his voice slowly went softer and deeper, the rough rasp in his voice hitting Dean low in his stomach. "Guess that's pretty racy for the Bible."

"Would you like me to continue from there?"

"Just give me the highlights."

"This is from a bit further in: 'While the king sitteth at his table,' - and by that she means that she is his table - 'my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof.' - a spikenard is a bundle for perfume, although that's not to be taken literally either," he said, and Dean got the picture. "'A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts.'" Cas' voice dipped even lower and Dean felt himself start to get hard. "'My beloved is unto me as a cluster of camphire in the vineyards of Engedi. Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes. Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: also our bed is green. The beams of our house are cedar, and our rafters of fir.'"

Dean slid one hand down his boxers and stroked up as Castiel began to interpret. "Her lover is lush oasis in the desert and he clings to her like precious perfume. She praises his beauty and they make love sheltered by the trees, their bed made of green grass."

He and Cas had done that once - well, in a graveyard, not a field, but with the grass under them and the stars above them. They'd been dealing with a ghost, some big-deal heretic the demons had been trying to use to break a Seal, and Dean didn't know what kind of freaky mojo the thing had going but when the spirit passed through Cas he'd dropped like a sack of bricks. Freaked Dean the hell out; even after burning the bones it had taken a damned long time for Dean to bring him back around. Dean guessed Cas had been a little freaked too, because when his eyes had finally blinked open he hadn't wanted to let go of Dean's arm.

Things had gotten out of hand after that. Dean stroked up and down his shaft with long, smooth movements, remembering the heat of Cas' lips against his, how fast Cas' heart had been racing.

"Do you want me to continue, Dean?"

Dean swallowed hard. "Yeah. Yeah, I really do."

"'I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.' That means -"

"That I got," Dean said, a little more breathless than he'd expected. The tone in Cas' voice said when he'd said rose up to open made the meaning unmistakable.

"Good." Dean thought he actually sounded smug. "'I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer. The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.'" He was quiet for a moment. "I've thought of those verses often," he said, in a confessional whisper.

Dean could barely concentrate on words when Castiel's voice sounded like that. "God, Cas," he breathed.

Castiel continued. "'I would kiss thee; yea, I should not be despised. I would lead thee, and bring thee into my mother's house, who would instruct me: I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine of the juice of my pomegranate.'" Dean had no idea how Castiel managed to make that sound so filthy. "'His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me.'"


"Are you pleasuring yourself, Dean?"

Dean froze. "Um..."

"Stop." And if to make sure he did, Dean felt a force pin his wrists down to the bed. Then Dean heard that amused tone creep back into Cas' voice. "For now."

Dean groaned. "You're an evil son of a bitch, Cas."

"Quiet now. I'm reciting." He cleared his throat, something Dean knew was completely unnecessary. "'As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me.'"

Dean heard Castiel let out a long breath and wondered if he was hard, too. He imagined Cas saying this with Dean deep inside him, his voice breaking around the words as Dean pushed him close. He thought about the way Cas' legs shook and went tight around around Dean when he was right on the edge, the way his breathing went soft and rapid. Dean shifted on the bed, so hard it hurt.

Castiel continued on, merciless. "'And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak. I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me.'"

Dean remembered the way Cas tossed his head back right as he was getting close, the way his body would shiver underneath Dean's as Dean tongued the hollow of his throat. He imagined kissing his way up Cas' neck and feeling the vibrations as words finally turned into desperate, needy whimpers. Even right on the edge Cas never closed his eyes though; he knew Dean liked watching them as Cas came, how they would dilate to thin rings of blue around wide black pupils. "Fuck. Cas."

"'Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm-'" Something about the way Castiel shaped those words went right under Dean's skin; he felt the hand print on his shoulder burn. "'For love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.'"

When he said the word fire Dean felt it, heat spreading through his groin. He felt the first drops of precome drip down and groaned. He was so close. He thought about Cas' nails digging into his arm, that first tight contraction right before Cas let himself go. "Cas."

"All right." Dean felt the force holding his wrists release and he wrapped his hand around his cock, barely needing two strokes before he came so hard his vision blurred. He moaned into the phone, feeling his whole body shake as sensation raced up and down his spine. "Jesus fucking Christ, Cas."

"Don't blaspheme."

"Yeah, you're one to talk."

"Using poetry for its intended purpose is hardly blasphemy, Dean." He let out a soft, rueful sigh. "I was enjoying that."

"Yeah," Dean said, still at the point where he was remembering how language worked. "Me too."

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"

Dean nodded, realizing too late Castiel couldn't see it. Forget sleep, Dean wouldn't be surprised if he dropped into a coma. "Yeah. Thanks."

"I'll be there in the morning."

"You fucking well better."

Dean heard an amused huff of breath. "Good night, Dean."

The call ended and Dean closed his eyes, trying to figure out how any of that had just happened. He made perfunctory stab at cleaning up before stretching back out on the bed. On impulse he fumbled the motel Gideon's out of the nightstand and paged through it, trying to find the passages Cas had been reciting. The words quickly ran together in a drowsy jumble and Dean gave up; he set the Bible up on the table and closed his eyes.

Cas could read him the rest in the morning.