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“Hello, Dean.”
Dean Winchester has grown so accustomed to angels appearing without warning in the Impala that he doesn’t swerve into the ditch when one appears in the shotgun seat. In fact, he barely flinches. He simply slides a glance sideways and says, “Hey, Cas.”
Castiel—Angel of the Lord, Dean’s best friend, and more recently his lover as well—gazes around the empty interior of the car. “Where is Sam?”
“That dark-haired girl again. Sammy dragged me all the way back to this godforsaken town, claiming he’d found indications that there were some vamps we missed. But the minute we got back here he wasn't even thinking about work, just calling her. And then he made me drop him off at the bar where they met. She’s all he’s talked about for the past two weeks. I think he’s got it bad, Cas.”
Cas frowns. “Got what bad?”
“I mean he likes her. Really likes her.”
Castiel considers that, and nods solemnly. “That is good. Humans are social entities and require interaction with others to survive. And most of them enjoy sexual congress.”
Dean snorts at the term, which sounds to him like an awfully fancy way of saying that Sam enjoys getting laid. Of course Sammy likes sex. He’s a Winchester, and Winchesters are a horny bunch.
Well, except for him, lately. Yeah, sure, he lies awake nights thinking about everything he and Cas have done together… but he isn’t thinking about sex, not exactly. And that bugs him. He’s a little worried he’s never gonna want ordinary human-style sex again.
The thought is oddly depressing. Life as a hunter is hard and lonely, and casual sex is one of the few outlets he’s got for blowing off steam. Sure, what he and Cas do together is hot as hell, but it’s mostly mental, internal. As incredible as angel sex is, he kind of misses running his hands all over heated skin, tasting someone’s mouth against his own, feeling a hot, eager body pressing against his…
He heaves a sigh, and Cas looks at him, his forehead creasing. “What is bothering you, Dean?”
“Nothing,” he says, turning the Impala onto a dark, winding dirt road. The car jounces over the ruts, and he pats her steering wheel in apology. “Listen,” he says, “I’m glad you’re here. I was coming out here to pray to you, to ask if you wanted to... well. I’ve been thinking about what the two of us have been, uh, doing. And I was wondering if you wanted to try something a little… different.”
“You are referring to the merging of grace?" Castiel's forehead wrinkles in another frown. "I am unsure how one might vary the experience.”
Dean stops the car in a dark clearing. Ahead of them, an old burned-out house looms dark and quiet in the starlight. He and Sam found this old abandoned farm while they were searching for the vamps. It's the sort of eerie place that locals tend to believe is haunted, but this particular house is totally empty—free of vamps or ghosts or any sort of creepy-crawlies. It’s just a quiet place far away from any roads or other houses. An isolated, secluded place where he can be alone with Cas.
“I was thinking,” he says carefully, “that I could show you how humans merge.”
Cas looks apologetic. “I told you before, Dean, I have no urge to explore human sex. I am sorry, but I am simply... disinterested.”
“That’s okay, if you’re sure,” Dean says. “I mean, if you don’t want it, you don’t want it. I get that, and I’m not trying to push you into anything. But even if you’re not human, your vessel is. And you can feel its appetites if you want, right? I mean, Jimmy liked cheeseburgers, and you like cheeseburgers…”
“Jimmy is no longer here,” Cas says repressively.
“Yeah, I know. But it’s still his body, with his impulses—if you let yourself feel them. Right?”
Castiel shifts slightly. “It is true that this vessel has its own desires.”
“Cool,” Dean says, his voice low. “I thought maybe we could kind of… explore that.”
He reaches out for Cas’ hand and gently runs a finger down the back of it, exploring the strength of it, feeling the tendons flexing beneath the warm skin. He takes Cas’ hand in his and turns it over, letting that same finger explore the soft, tender flesh of the palm, the calluses on the fingers. Cas feels like any human, a fragile creation of flesh and bone and blood, and it’s easy to forget that inside this frail vessel resides an immense creature of power and light.
But Dean doesn’t forget that, not for a moment. He is undeniably attracted to the blue-eyed, dark-haired guy that houses Cas’ consciousness, but he’s also attracted to the power surging beneath the surface. Both the vessel and the angel inside have merged with him, and to him, both are beautiful.
Cas’ gaze is turned downward, studying Dean’s fingers as they trail over his skin, as if he’s watching something strange and fascinating and alien. Dean supposes it is alien to him. He has no doubt that Cas has watched humans having sex, but he is also certain that Cas has never truly understood it, any more than he himself could have grasped what “angel sex” was like before he shared it with Cas. Some things, he thinks, have to be experienced to be truly understood.
Dean lets his finger trail upward, to the inside of Cas’ wrist, and Cas jerks slightly and utters a startled gasp.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Dean’s finger slides up and down along the sensitive flesh.
“It feels…” Cas’ eyelashes flutter as he blinks in confusion. “It feels… odd.”
“Good odd, I hope.” Dean discovers that the heavy sleeve of the trenchcoat is preventing him from exploring further. “Why don’t you take off your trenchcoat and your jacket?”
He expects Cas to object, because Cas always wears that damn trenchcoat. He’d probably wear it in Fort Lauderdale in the middle of July. But Cas seems to see the wisdom of removing a couple of layers. He shrugs the coat and jacket off, tossing them carelessly into the back seat.
Dean reclaims the angel's arm, unbuttons the cuff of his shirt, and pushes the fabric out of the way, trailing his finger from wrist to elbow and back. Cas watches the motion of his hand as if it’s infinitely fascinating. Dean can’t quite tell if he’s turned on, or just curious, observing intently so he can file this experience away under humans-and-their-silly-preoccupation-with-sex.
Time to kick it up a notch, he decides, and lifts Cas’ hand to his mouth, lettings his tongue trail teasingly along Cas’ wrist.
Cas lets out another startled gasp. Dean likes that reaction, so he keeps at it, sliding his tongue lightly over Cas’ wrist, the heel of his hand, his palm. He hears a noise from Cas that sounds distinctly like a moan, and he grins to himself. He’s pretty sure Cas is now beyond mere curiosity, and into seriously enjoying this.
He’s exploring Cas’ fingers with slow, leisurely licks, enjoying this more than he ought to, when Cas suddenly lowers his head and runs his tongue over Dean’s ear. It isn’t a soft, seductive caress--more like being licked by a friendly Newfoundland--and Dean jerks in surprise. “Dude, what the hell?”
“I am sorry,” Cas says, drawing back and looking slightly alarmed. “I was trying to reciprocate in kind. Was that incorrect?”
He looks so worried that Dean can’t repress a smile. “No,” he says, more gently. “That’s fine, Cas. It’s just the way you did it…”
“I did exactly what you were doing,” Cas says with a puzzled frown.
“Not quite. Here, let me show you.” Dean leans into the angel and presses a very soft kiss to the top of his ear. “Like that,” he says, letting his breath brush over Cas’ ear. “Nice and gentle.”
“Oh.” Cas sounds breathless. “I think I see. Yes.”
Hesitantly, he turns his head and brushes a similar kiss over Dean’s ear. Dean can’t quite repress a shiver. “That’s it,” he says, hearing the hoarseness in his own voice. “Just like that.”
They spend several long moments exploring each other’s ears, kissing and nipping and licking. Dean blows into Cas’ ear, and is rewarded with a moan and a shudder. He can’t think of the last time he made out with someone so slowly and deliberately. Not since Lisa, at least. He loves sex, even loves foreplay, but his dangerous, hectic life doesn’t allow a lot of time for thorough, leisurely exploration.
Eventually Cas discovers the sensitive spot right below Dean’s ear, a spot that always makes him groan out swear words, and the angel takes unfair advantage, using his tongue to stimulate the area until Dean is moaning words that are probably vulgar enough to get him tossed right back into Hell. He doesn’t care much, though, because right now he’s in heaven.
He discovers that Cas has a similar spot on his throat, at the pulse point just below his jawline, and he kisses the angel there until Castiel is melting against him, whimpering his name.
Their arms are wrapped around one another and they’re panting and eager—and their clothes aren’t even off yet. Dean is shocked to discover how much he likes this. Over the years, he’s grown used to thinking of sex as a straight road from point A to point B. He always makes sure his sexual partners are fully satisfied, of course, but he doesn’t sit around and neck with them, or exert himself to find all their little sensitive spots.
But all of a sudden he’s being reminded that sex doesn’t have to be fast and direct. It can be a long, slow trip along a winding road, and the occasional detour can be seriously rewarding.
He tugs Cas’ shirt out of his pants, and slips his hand up beneath the fabric. Cas jolts and makes a snorting sound, and Dean realizes with delight that Castiel, Angel of the Lord, is ticklish. He uses his fingers to lightly graze over Cas’ skin, and Cas breaks away from him and doubles up, laughing.
“Dean. What are you doing?”
“You’re ticklish, buddy.”
“Don’t be absurd. I am not—" Dean wiggles his fingers, and Cas' indignant denial cuts off. He thrashes, still snorting with laughter.
Dean tickles him a little more, being careful not to push it so far that Cas can’t tell him to stop if he needs to. He doesn’t want Cas to get to that frantic, wheezing stage where he can’t even gasp out that he’s had enough. He wants Cas to like it, after all. And Cas definitely seems to be enjoying himself.
Eventually, Cas grabs for him, shoves his hands under Dean’s t-shirt, and runs his fingers right up his ribs, and suddenly the two of them are giggling together like kids, squirming around in the front seat of the Impala. Driven by the need for more physical contact, Dean slides along the bench seat and straddles Cas’ thighs, then grabs his wrists, pinning his hands against the leather. He knows Cas could get away if he wanted to, but Cas doesn’t seem to object to Dean on his lap.
He wants to kiss Cas. He has to kiss Cas. He lowers his head, and their mouths meet, softly at first. They share long, gentle kisses, not even opening their mouths. Just soft brushes of their lips, their bodies melting into each other, warm and boneless and relaxed. Eventually Dean releases Cas’ wrists, and the angel’s arms wrap around him. He buries his own hands in Cas’ thick, dark hair.
Eventually the desire to deepen the kiss grows too strong. His tongue slips over Cas’ lips, tasting, exploring, and Cas follows his lead. The instant their tongues touch, the kiss explodes to another level, and suddenly their mouths are open, and they’re kissing, hot and hungry and almost violent in their need for one another.
Their bodies are moving too, their hips beginning to rock together in a steady rhythm. Dean discovers that he aches for Cas, in a way he hasn’t ached for anyone in a long time.
They stay that way for a long time, kissing frantically, their bodies moving harder and faster. Dean can feel himself drawing near the edge, and he almost sobs with frustration, because he wants so much more, but there just isn’t room in here, damn it. He wants to be in Cas’ body the way Cas has been in his mind, but even the back seat isn’t big enough for two large guys.
“Dean.” Cas breaks away from the desperate kiss long enough to gasp out words. “I want… I want…”
“Me too. But there isn’t room in here…”
Cas touches his forehead, and suddenly they’re outside in the warm summer night, sitting on the hood of the Impala.
Much better, Dean thinks, and grabs for Cas, shoving him over. He isn’t sure why the angel’s letting him lead, except that where human sex is concerned, Dean is the expert. After all, Dean submitted to Cas when it came to angel sex, so it only makes sense that when it comes to human sex, Cas should be the bottom.
Anyway, the thought of being inside Cas, of fucking him till he cries out with the pleasure, is burning in Dean’s chest, making him ache and shiver with longing. He begins battling with Cas’ stupid dress shirt, which has too many fucking buttons, but Cas figures out what he’s trying to do, and suddenly all their clothes disappear, leaving Dean bare-ass-up in the starlight.
It also leaves Cas bare all over. Dean’s never gotten the chance to admire Cas’ body—well, his human body, his vessel—so thoroughly before, and he takes shameless advantage of it, lowering his head and lavishing kisses all over Cas’ broad chest. Cas moans and whimpers beneath him, and when Dean’s teeth graze his nipple, he actually cries out, his voice loud in the night.
Dean closes his teeth around the little nub and bites, gently but firmly, and Cas wails his name.
Dean discovers that he’s rutting against Cas’ leg, desperately trying to ease the ache somehow. He’s also aware that he’s spilling precome all over the place, and that makes him a little self-conscious, because Cas once said that he found human sex silly. But he has no reason to worry, because having decided to explore human sex, Cas is giving himself over to the experience totally.
Cas’ hips are rising and falling too, and Dean realizes the angel aches just as much as he does. He slips off the edge of the hood, planting his feet on the ground, and bends over. He kisses his way down, right across Cas’ stomach, and then brushes a kiss over the swollen head of Cas’ cock. The angel gives another jolt, and his hard-on jerks violently. He babbles out words that are so disjointed they’re almost incoherent—oh Dean yes please I haven’t ever Dean don’t stop please—and Dean lets his tongue slide over the tip, exploring gently, while Cas moans and writhes beneath him.
Jesus Christ, he thinks, trailing his tongue down along the ridge of Cas’ cock. The way the angel is carrying on, you’d think he was getting a blow job for the ages. It makes him wonder how Cas is going to react when Dean actually sucks him off. He thinks Cas might just lose it entirely, might come right down his throat, and the thought makes him ache worse than ever.
His tongue laps over Cas, gently, thoroughly, exploring the thick shaft, stroking over his balls. Then he moves back up, and by the time he gets back to the head Cas is shuddering and trembling and begging more wildly than before. His cock is so wet with precome that it glistens in the starlight.
“You still think sex is silly?” Dean asks, letting his breath puff over the swollen, sensitive skin.
“Mmmppphhhh,” Castiel says, and then, “Dean.”
Dean figures that’s the most articulate answer he’s going to get. He parts his lips and takes the head of it into his mouth, and Cas wails and thrashes on the Impala’s hood, arching wildly. Dean is far from an expert, but he knows how he himself likes it. He lets Cas slide a little deeper into his mouth, wrapping his hand around the thick base of the shaft to stimulate what he can’t take in.
He keeps the rhythm slow, despite the desperate, spasmodic jerks of Cas’ hips, and listens to the angel making high-pitched squeaks and low moans and everything in between. He never thought he’d like this, but he was wrong. Yeah, it tastes kind of weird, and yeah, his jaw is already starting to ache, but damn. He is seriously getting off on this.
Cas’ fingers wind into his hair, so tightly that it almost hurts, and his hips begin thrusting more steadily as he relaxes into the pleasure. Part of Dean wants to drive Cas to a screaming orgasm, to take everything the angel can give him and swallow it right down, but part of him has other plans. He pulls away, and Cas whimpers in disappointment.
“It’s okay,” Dean says, softly stroking Cas’ thigh. He needs—oh, shit, everything’s in his bag in the back seat. He sighs. “Cas, I gotta get my lube. Give me a second, okay?”
Cas lets go of his hair and appears to pull a small bottle out of midair. “This?”
Dean chuckles. “If they ever throw you out of Heaven,” he says, “you could make a great magician.”
He gently urges Cas’ thighs apart a little further, then pours a substantial quantity of the stuff into his hand. When he slides a slick finger against Cas’ opening, Cas shudders, his cock bobbing wildly against his stomach.
“No rush,” Dean says in a gentle voice. “We’ve got all night.”
He plays with Cas for a while, pressing against the sensitive area, but not pushing his way in, not yet. Before long Cas is moaning, his cock jerking in eager spasms, precome dripping from it and pooling on his abdomen. Dean wants to lower his head and lick it all away, and then run his tongue over Cas’ hard-on, but he’s pretty sure if he does any more of that, Cas will come like a rocket. And he’s just not ready for this to be over yet.
At last he gently presses a little harder on the ring of muscle, and it yields. Cas whines helplessly as Dean’s finger slides into him. Dean is very careful, because he knows Cas has never done this before, and based on what he knows of Jimmy, he’s pretty sure this body is new to this too. He strokes in and out slowly, carefully stretching the muscles, until Cas writhes, frantic for more.
At last he adds a second finger. When he crooks his fingers and finds Cas' prostate, stimulating it very gently, the angel groans like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. Dean can feel his own cock pulsing, and the need for release squeezes his balls hard. He’s not sure he’ll be able to wait long enough, and he can’t help imagining wrapping his fist around his own cock and jacking himself off fast and hot. He thinks of his own come shooting out all over Cas, long white ropes of it spurting all over the angel’s cock and abdomen and chest…
The image makes his hard-on jerk like crazy. But he forces the desire back, because that’s not the way they’re doing it tonight. He wants to merge with Cas, the way Cas did with him. Or at least he wants the nearest human equivalent.
He’s pretty sure Cas is ready for him now, based on the way Cas is sobbing and shivering. He withdraws his fingers, bending and pressing a single light kiss to the wet head of Cas’ cock. Then he pulls Cas toward him, so that his hips are on the edge of the hood, and moves so he's standing between Cas’ legs. Cas lifts his legs instinctively, wrapping them around Dean’s hips, and Dean presses the head of his cock up against Cas’ most intimate flesh.
There’s a breathless moment where he’s scared-- no, absolutely terrified-- that this won't work. He wants this so badly, but he’s never done it before, and if he can’t manage it, or can’t control himself long enough, he doesn’t know if he can stand it. He presses a little harder, and then he’s sliding into Cas, feeling Cas surrounding him, hot and slick and incredibly tight. Both of them cry out in anguished relief and something very near to ecstasy.
Dean withdraws, and thrusts a little harder, over and over again. With each thrust he sinks deeper into Cas’ silken heat, and the terrible need in his balls coils tighter and tighter. It’s so good he’s hard-pressed to hold his orgasm back. Cas cries out with every thrust, his hands clutching at Dean, his body squeezing hard, as if begging wordlessly for more.
Before long Dean finds himself buried balls-deep, and his body takes control, thrusting mindlessly, hard and fast. He feels the gentle invasion of Cas’ grace, asking permission, and he sobs out Yes, yes, yes, and then Cas is pushing deep into his mind, into his soul. Sweat breaks out on his skin, and the pleasure is so intense he can barely breathe. He’s in Cas and Cas is in him and it’s beyond perfection, and he can’t hold back any longer.
His climax flares through him like lightning, so hot it’s almost painful, and he knows Cas is coming just as hard. The angel’s first experience of human ecstasy is a wild and uncontained storm of rapture, a white light burning fiercely inside them both. Dean is overwhelmed with heat and adoration and pleasure, his emotions and Cas' all tangled together, and he knows he’s screaming, but it doesn't seem to matter. Nothing matters except Cas. The two of them are caught in a fragment of time, a glorious instant that burns on and on and on…
A long time later, he finds himself collapsed on his car’s hood, next to Cas. The angel must have grabbed him when his knees gave out, and dragged him up onto the Impala. He’s flat on his back, staring up at the stars. When he turns his head and looks at Cas, he sees the angel looking, not at the stars, but at him.
“You were right, Dean,” Cas says quietly. “Human sex is not silly.”
Dean thinks of the way he howled through his orgasm, and he can feel his cheeks flush. “I guess it is, kind of. I mean, it looks silly. But it’s… well, it’s more serious than it looks, you know?”
“Yes, I see that now.” Cas reaches out and takes his hand. “It is more… profound… than I ever guessed. It is a very physical experience, and yet it feels every bit as sacred as the sharing of grace does.”
“Well, it depends." Dean stretches, enjoying the warm looseness of his muscles. The light summer breeze brushes over his bare skin, and he discovers he's no longer covered in sweat and come. He realizes Cas cleaned off both of them, as well as Baby, with his mojo. "I mean, sex can be fun. Just fun. Most of the time it’s just a way of burning off sexual energy. For me, at least. It's just a way to feel good, you know? But sometimes, with the right person, it’s more than that. A lot more.”
Cas blinks at him, looking startled. “Am I the right person?”
Dean looks at the angel, sprawled naked on the black car. He’s had sex with plenty of people, sometimes casual encounters, sometimes encounters that meant a little bit more. But in all his life, he’s never had anyone outside his family who means as much to him as Castiel does. Cas has seen all of him, his body and his soul and the darkest corners of his mind. He's given himself to Cas freely, in a way he's never given himself to anyone else. And Cas has given himself to Dean just as freely. He's never known anyone he wanted to share everything with... until now.
It’s been a hell of a long and winding road, he thinks, with an awful lot of detours along the way. But after all these years... he’s finally gotten to his destination.
“Yeah,” Dean says softly, reaching out and taking the angel's hand in his. “I think you are.”