Archive of Our Own ^beta

For someone who prided himself on having simple needs, Dean was not a man easily satisfied.

Well, in some respects that wasn’t true; with a hunt completed, a good burger and a slice of pie, a nice girl and a long night – preferably all of these consecutively – he could be made content.

But when he only got two out of three, things weren’t so simple.

The hunt was over. Dinner had been eaten. But Dean was in the bunker, so there was no chance of bringing a girl back home. He probably wouldn’t even if he could. So he had to turn to other methods to find that last bit of satisfaction he needed before snuggling up to sleep in his bed.

He was halfway there, as well. Teeth brushed, bed made, wearing just boxers and a t-shirt. The plan was to get off and then knock off, so to speak. It usually took a couple of minutes. Trouble was, finding something (or someone) he liked was harder than it ought to be.

In a fit of frustration, he closed all the laptop’s browser tabs: Busty Asian Beauties, the new mailer from Victoria’s Secret, his xTube search for ‘straight pegging doggy style’ (page 6), and even Horny Women In Your Area, even though he was in the middle of four conversations. They seemed like nice women but they were all dull conversationalists. None of them wanted to see his dick when he asked.

Instead, he grabbed his music player and his headphones from his nightstand, cramming the headphones on, chewing nothing as he thumbed through tracks until he came to the Led Zeppelin playlist: Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Tra XX. The one he’d given Cas, incidentally.

Hand moving back to his laptop, he hovered over the link in his bookmarks he’d covertly entitled ‘2 dudes Wrestling gif’. He bit the side of his curled finger, staring at the link.

He gulped. His eyes darted to the closed door of his bedroom.

He let out a long breath through narrowed lips, and clicked.

Castiel knocked on Dean’s door. “Dean, can I come in?”

No answer.

“Dean?” Castiel took the handle and opened the door. “Oh, you are here, I need to borrow your laptop. Are you busy?

Dean’s elbow shook, his face hidden behind the laptop screen, which was propped on his knees. He spread his legs a little more, letting out a soft sigh. “Yeah,” he breathed.

“Oh.” Castiel hesitated in the doorway. “Should I come back later? It’s hunt related. Sam’s gone to bed already, and my phone’s too small to type emails—”

Dean’s toes curled on the bedspread, his spine arching into the mattress. “Mmmm.”

Castiel tilted his head. He could see the top band of Dean’s headphones. “Are you listening to music?”

Dean’s breath stuttered, and he lay his head back against the wall, huffing a few times. “Shhit.”

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” Castiel shut the door behind him and paced around the bed so Dean would see him. “I asked if you’re busy—”

“CAS!” Dean’s hand shot out from inside his underwear while the other slammed his laptop shut, his posture protectively curled, his thighs to his chest, torso bent forward. His already-pink face turned pinker, his plump lips shaking, parted. “Whwhwtwhat-what’re you doing in here? Thought you went to bed.” His eyes darted to the laptop and he pulled off his headphones, gulping.

Castiel stood by the bed, hands by the sides of his trenchcoat. His lips hung open, his thoughts blank.

“Did you knock?” Dean asked brutishly, eyes on Castiel’s knees.

“Yes,” Castiel said softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Dean huffed, frowning, unable to make eye contact.

“Were you touching yourself?” Castiel asked in a rumble, a rush of heat flowing upwards through him as the words fell from his lips. He wanted to hear Dean be honest and say yes.

Dean pressed his thighs tighter to his crotch, hiding his erection. “What d’ya want, Cas?”

Castiel lowered his eyes and his chin, drawing a slow breath into his mouth. “I want—” Things too inappropriate to name in this moment. “I needed, um.” He pressed his lips together. “I need to type out an email. Jody and Alex asked to be kept updated on the development of the musca larvae. I just fed them, and they... grew.”

Dean pulled a face, disgusted by the reminder of what they’d done earlier in the day. He shoved the laptop across the bed to the empty side, muttering, “Have at it.”

As Castiel sat himself down on the side of the bed, one thigh up so he faced more towards Dean, he noticed Dean look down at his crotch, squirm in place, then squeeze his eyes tight shut and bow his head.

“Are you sure you don’t need a minute?” Castiel asked quietly. “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“Just hurry up, Cas, I’m fine,” Dean grunted, reaching to finger his discarded headphones. The tinny sound of Led Zeppelin still bled through the room.

“I’ll be quick,” Castiel promised with a smile. He let his eyes linger on Dean for a few more seconds, sinfully aware he was still aroused. With a last smirk, Cas looked down and opened up the laptop. It took a couple seconds to come out of standby, but when it did—

“Oh...”

Dean realised at the same time as Castiel that he’d left his current project open in a browser window. In a split second, Castiel saw two almost-naked, muscular men fighting on the floor of a wrestling ring, one pinning the other down as the one below blared an open-mouthed cry, presumably in pain. The image was animated, and the men repeatedly made the same shifting, downward movements. Their skin was glossy, their bodies were strong, and Castiel could see they were not having sex, but it looked like they were.

Quickly, Castiel passed the laptop back to Dean, eyes averted, neither of them speaking a word as Dean opened a new browser window to hide the first, before pushing the laptop back.

Dean had turned a shade of pink Castiel had never seen before. Even his ears glowed.

Castiel took a breath to speak, but Dean cut over him with a “Don’t!” He gave Castiel a firm glare, a finger aimed at his face. “Do not. Speak. About this.”

Castiel nodded, head down. “Mm-hm.”

“And don’t tell Sam.”

Castiel eyes darted up to meet Dean’s. Dean looked back pleadingly.

Castiel gave him a soft smile. “I wouldn’t. Your private interests are no concern of his.”

“Right.” Dean seemed surprised. “Yeah. Thanks.” He looked at his open palm, curling his fingers, then he looked away.

“Um.” Castiel blinked a few times, trying to remember why he was here. “Yes. Email.” He found the email icon in Dean’s browser window, and clicked it. He moved the cursor around, dizzying himself as he searched for the logout button. He found it under a drop-down menu, but not before seeing the headlines of three emails that Dean had left unread and added star-shaped markers to: one from Claire, received earlier today, entitled why busty asian beauties is racist as shit (sorry not sorry), which Castiel didn’t know enough about to comment on aloud; one entitled QueerTops QTips || Top 10 Things You Need To Know Before Trying Anal; and one with forty-five replies in the thread, sent from Dean to himself, entitled, simply, Lingerie.

Castiel hated himself for being able to read seventy words a second. Sometimes it wasn’t useful, or pleasant.

“I’m sorry,” he said, as he typed his own email address and password ([email protected]; <3Freckl3s).

Dean looked at him. “Sorry for what?”

“For invading your privacy.” Castiel frowned, opening a new email form and typing Jody’s name, selecting her email from the drop-down. “For entering unannounced. I believe we talked about this a long time ago. ‘Personal space’? It, umm. It extends beyond the physical form, I’ve come to realise.”

Dean wet his lips, bowing his head to scratch the back of his head. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Cas, shut up.” Dean shut his eyes. “It’s fine. It’s not your fault. I left the browser open.”

“Fault or no fault, it happened.”

Dean snorted. “So what? It’s not like you saw something you didn’t already know about me. Right?”

Castiel eyed him, heart pulsing fondly as Dean gazed back, calm now.

“That’s true,” Castiel said, lowering his eyes. He started to type about musca eggs. He paused. “But are you really a top?”

Dean coughed out a laugh. “What?”

“Never mind.” Castiel smiled, resettling his ass on the side of the bed, thigh crooked with his knee pointing towards Dean. “Larvaeee... developing... at alarming rate... upon... application... ooooff...”

“Ugh, keep the gross stuff to yourself, Cas,” Dean complained. “You’re makin’ me lose it.” He shifted again, a hand pressed between his bowed thighs.

Castiel ceased typing, eyebrows raised. “Are you waiting for me to leave so you can carry on?”

Dean snorted. “What else am I meant to do? Seriously, how long you gonna be?” He nosed towards the laptop.

“Just a minute.” Castiel hesitated, then returned to typing. He tried not to pay attention to Dean, typing fast, but it was hard not to notice when Dean parted his legs a little, looking at his erection, then palming at it, grasping and stroking through the black material of his boxer-briefs.

Castiel gulped, twice, feeling heat in his face. He wanted to look but he dared not tear his eyes from the screen. He leaned forward, typing, trying to get Dean out of his field of vision.

He typed and typed, and thankfully got into the flow of it, mostly zoning Dean out.

But then Dean slipped his hand inside his underwear, and Castiel bashfully realised he’d typed ‘Newly hatched grubs ingest sustenance with initial oral suction but then progress to mastubation after about an hour of intensive gorging.’

“Mastication,” Castiel said to himself, correcting his typo.

“Am not,” Dean said, affronted, snatching his hand out of his underwear. “And why’re you watching me, anyway? Pervert.”

Castiel looked him in the eyes, defiantly, and didn’t look away.

Dean blushed, starting to smile.

Castiel’s eyes dipped to Dean’s lips, then quickly away. He typed in a rush, moving his thighs gently to perhaps ease the pressure between his legs. He was a little aroused, which was disturbing, given what he was typing.

He typed and typed and typed until he was done, by which point Dean had distracted himself listening to his music. He’d sunk back against the bed’s headboard, eyes closed, stroking his pink music player with one hand, teasing the blunt end of it with a thumb. The line of upper teeth rested on his lower lip, smiling softly.

Castiel considered touching him to draw his attention, but was worried what that might imply when they were both aware Dean was still aroused. He dared not shout, as Sam was in the next room and might hear and come running. But Dean definitely wouldn’t hear Castiel speak over the music, as he hadn’t before.

So Castiel thought it best if he got up in silence and left without another word.

But... before he did...

He logged out of his email, and left it on the login screen so Dean could return to his own. Castiel then minimised the browser, only to find the animated image of the two men wrestling in his face again. Castiel’s breath caught in his throat, eyes unfairly drawn to the multiple points of contact between the men.

He could see how easily this kind of scene could be imagined as sexual. Intimate. An expression of pain could become pleasure if the context were different. The man on top pushed down like he intended to crush the equally-large man below him, but there was an element of restraint there. Yes, all wrestling was fake and the fights weren’t real; it was a staged performance – Castiel knew that, as Dean had explained numerous times. But assuming the violence was a pretence for physical contact with other men made it even more intriguing. The man above was caring for the man below, in a way. Being gentle, even during a rough act.

Castiel licked his lips, letting go of a longing sigh, allowing it to become vocal since Dean’s music was loud enough that Castiel heard it coming out of the headphones. Castiel wanted to be pressed down like that. Held like that. He wanted to make that face, and let go of a soft cry that only Dean would hear.

He stared at the image for a while, his lower half pulsing in time with the wrestlers’ movements.

After a while, he heard Dean breathe in sharply.

His eyes snapped to Dean’s, body rushing hot and cold because Dean stared back.

Dean’s lips parted. “See somethin’ you like?” He tilted his head slightly, pulling his headphones off completely and leaving them on the bed.

Castiel’s heart was jumping. “I have,” he started, quietly, before gaining confidence. “I have muscles like that.”

Dean’s eyebrows bounced. “Oh yeah? Pff. You wish, Cas.”

Castiel snorted. “No, you wish,” he retorted.

Dean grinned with his mouth open, rolling one shoulder. “Can’t prove anything.”

Castiel smiled and ducked his head. “I can prove I’m telling the truth,” he said teasingly, taking the knot of his tie in his fingers and shucking it left to right, loosening it. Dean watched, face blank, mouth open, eyes on the tie as it came undone.

Castiel pushed off his trenchcoat, and began to unbutton his shirt.

“Cas...” Dean’s lower lip bobbed. “Not for nothin’, but what— what’re you—?”

“I have very strong arms,” Castiel said curtly, eyes lowered as his chin raised, pulling his shirt open. “You never see them under the coat, but I can assure you they’re there.”

“Buhbuhbuh w-w-why are you showing me,” Dean stammered, a hand half-raised to block his view of Castiel’s now-bare torso, but lowering it to peer over. He stared at the Enochian tattoo on Castiel’s hip, gulping as he saw his brown nipples, areolas stretched by the swell of Castiel’s pectorals, tiny raised buds of hair follicles dotted around from the new chill on his skin. Dean licked his lips as Castiel climbed to kneel on the bed, facing him.

“Proof.” Castiel spread his arms, smug. “I have muscles like those men.”

Dean had gone dark-eyed, holding his clothed erection in a hand and making no effort to conceal the fact he was riotously hard. He struggled to swallow, but when he did, it was a wet, unsettled gulp.

“You like this, don’t you?” Castiel asked, unsure how his tone came across. In part, he said it firmly, intending to tease – you’re attracted to me and I know it – but there remained a thread of uncertainty – this shape is one you like, isn’t it? please, say yes, or this would be very embarrassing for me...

Dean’s lips trembled. “I’m not. I don’t. Um. You’re kind of.”

Castiel squinted, placing his hands on his knees.

Finally, Dean forced out, “You’re not that big, Cas.”

Castiel frowned at his bicep, looking at it. “It is very much as big as the ones in the picture.” He looked at the open laptop beside him to check. “Yes. My chest may be slimmer but my arms are just as thick.”

Dean huffed. “N-hn.”

Castiel strengthened his stare, head down like a bull about to charge. He raised a sharp eyebrow. “Do you have a measuring device?”

Dean raised both eyebrows. “Uh?”

Castiel leaned close and growled, “Measure me. I dare you.”

Dean’s flustered heartbeat was visible in his neck. Castiel loved doing this to him.

“I-I-I-I got a. Like a.” Dean rushed to roll over, showing his lower back to Castiel as he dug through the nightstand drawer. Castiel heard a clunking and a swishing and a gloop-glop of something liquid, and then Dean rolled back over, handing Castiel a yellow wound-up measuring tape, the kind used by seamstresses or tailors. Castiel took it, quietly wondering why Dean had this at all, let alone kept it beside his bed, but supposed it might have to do with his interest in men’s fashion... or perhaps, women’s lingerie.

Castiel took the tape, letting it spill onto his thighs like a zig-zagging yellow snake, then found the end and placed it against the thickest part of his bicep. He held it there with a thumb, but then found he couldn’t wrap the tape around without dropping the end.

Dean darted forward, uttering, “Here,” but hesitated before touching. His eyes met Castiel’s. “Can I...?”

Castiel smiled. “You may touch me, Dean.”

Dean huffed out a grin, blushing again, sucking his lower lip and smirking as he took the tape and wrapped it around Castiel’s arm. “God, this is weird. This is so weird.”

“What does it say?” Castiel asked, pretending to look at the tape, but keeping his eyes on Dean’s gorgeously aroused expression. Pretty, pouty lips, flushed cheeks, fluttering lashes and hungry eyes... Castiel began to flex his arm, and watched Dean lose what little composure he had. He was visibly trembling, hands shaking as they matched fingertip-to-fingertip on Castiel’s rock-hard bicep.

“S-Sixteen,” Dean whispered, a husky rasp in his voice that sent shivers down Castiel’s spine.

Castiel urged, deep-voiced, “Sixteen what?”

“Sixteen inches,” Dean whispered. His eyes flicked to Castiel’s, clearly dizzied and confused and excited.

Castiel gave a slow grin. “Does that satisfy you? Am I big enough for you?”

Dean gulped, just as wet and loud as before. His mouth must have been watering.

With a hurried blink, Dean lowered his gaze, only to have his eyes land on Castiel’s tattoo. He huffed quietly and cast his eyes away, embarrassed, but knowing it was too late to hide his attraction.

“Ih— It’s, um. Not as big as me,” Dean mumbled.

Castiel scoffed. “Hardly. I can see your arms under those t-shirt sleeves, Dean, you’re at least two inches smaller.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean caught Castiel’s gaze and held it. His lips pursed into a kiss before he spat out, “Prove it.”

Castiel’s gaze didn’t break from Dean’s as he took the measuring tape in hand, crawling a little closer on the bed, setting aside a pillow to get as close to Dean as he could.

Dean shuffled where he sat, getting closer too, stretching his legs out down the bed, cocking out his right arm, flexing it with his fist raised over it.

Castiel took his elbow gently, still holding his gaze as he lay the tape over his arm. He then let go of his elbow, eyes pointedly moving to the numbers on the tape. Black, bold figures climbed, then shrank, as Castiel aligned the zero with the fourteen.

“Fourteen point five inches around your bicep,” Castiel said softly. “Hm, what do you know, I was right.”

“You said at least two inches smaller,” Dean said. “Was less than that. So I’m bigger than you thought.”

“But your arms are in fact smaller than mine.”

Dean licked his lips. “‘M taller than you.”

“You wear heeled shoes.”

“I got wider shoulders.” Dean’s eyes dipped to Castiel’s lips.

“I have a wider waist,” Castiel countered, raising one curt eyebrow. “And thicker thighs.”

Dean moaned under his breath, eyes falling shut. He flashed them open again, fingers touching to his lips in rush; Castiel realised he hadn’t meant to moan.

Castiel’s grin turned lascivious, eyes roaming to Dean’s mouth when he bit his plumpened bottom lip. “Do you like big thighs, Dean?”

Dean’s body shrank and swayed like it was taken over by waves of feeling, which could only be pleasure. He looked terrified, and desperately aroused at the same time.

“Do you want me to show you?” Castiel asked, tilting his head, hands moving to his crotch like he was about to undo his pants. “Would you like to see how big and meaty my thighs are?”

Dean sobbed. “Cas...” He scrunched up his eyes, biting down on his lips. “You gotta stop. Please. Please, I can’t—”

Castiel chuckled, nodding, head down. “All right. Sorry, this was... um. This was a little much, wasn’t it?” He edged backwards by a few inches. “I’ll leave you alone.” He still smiled, full of amusement as he started to back away, fingers brushing the measuring tape as he went. “Apologies for disturbing you, Dean.”

“Wait.” Dean rached to snatch Castiel’s hand, but didn’t make contact. He seemed uncertain, but then determined, and the fear melted away, his eyes rising to meet Castiel’s. “Show me. I— I wanna see.” He gulped once more, Adam’s apple bobbing violently.

Castiel stepped back to stand on the floor. “Dean, no, you’re right. This is... inappropriate. I didn’t come here intending to seduce you.”

“But—”

“I’ll go.” Castiel reached to pick up his shirt, tie, and coat. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Cas, no, I want—” Dean got off the bed on his side, tugging his t-shirt down but failing to hide his erection. “I want—?”

They stood face-to-face, a foot apart, at the foot of Dean’s bed.

They stared.

Dean was blushing, lips glossy, eyes darker than Castiel had ever seen them. There was something new in his expression, too, something eager, playful... tentative. Dean examined Castiel’s lips as Castiel licked them; Dean looked down and peered at Castiel’s chest, while Castiel kept his shirt hung in front of him to hide his own partial erection. Then Dean took a breath and said clearly, with force: “Show me.”

Castiel wavered.

“Now, Cas.” Dean reached and touched Castiel’s heart, shoving him. “Take the pants off.”

Castiel was stung by shock, firstly at the fact Dean was so certain of what he wanted, but also that he dared ask for it. Castiel reflected his pressure with determination of his own, stepping into Dean’s intimate space and speaking roughly, eyes on his lips. “Why do you want me to take my pants off, Dean? Tell me.”

Dean snorted. “You know why, jackass. Just do it.”

“I do know,” Castiel confirmed softly. “But I want you to say it.”

Dean gulped. “I-I-I-I’m just. You got.”

“Say it, Dean.”

“Mmmeaty thighs. And-and-and I like? I’m into. Kinda. I dunno, I just. Wanna. Big. You’re.” Dean breathed hurriedly, eyes darting up and back down.

“Say it clearly.”

Dean stood tall, jaw tense, but then released, as he said, whispering, “I like big, muscular guy-thighs.”

Castiel grinned as Dean blushed. “Yes, I do believe that’s true. Shall we prove it together?”

He tossed his clothes on the bed, over the laptop. He remained standing in Dean’s space, unbuttoning his slacks with his eyes still on Dean. Dean tried to keep looking up, but couldn’t help himself – he was curious about what Castiel did, eyes tracking every finger and flick of his wrists as he undid his belt, opened his fly, and pushed his pants down to his ankles.

Castiel’s boots were slip-ons, so he slipped out of them without effort.

Dean watched him remove his socks with surprising dexterity of foot, and Dean’s breath fluttered, chest heaving. At last he looked back up, gazing at Castiel in awe. “You’re gettin’ naked?”

“Do you want to look at me naked?” Castiel asked, knowing the answer.

Dean flushed.

“This is as far as I’ll go,” Castiel said, opening his hands to present himself to Dean, wearing only tight navy blue boxers, which showed enough of his semi-erection for Dean to know he was enjoying himself. “Measure me, Dean.”

“Measu...? Oh...” Dean glanced around, then pounced at the tape on the bed, rushing back to offer it to Castiel.

“On... your... knees,” Castiel purred, flashing hot with pleasure as Dean heard him and comprehended that he’d been given a command. Castiel had wanted to say those words to Dean ever since he first understood that they were often sexual, not religious, but could be used either way.

Dean didn’t move. He looked stunned, and unsure if he should obey. “You get on your knees,” Dean decided to say, in complaint.

Castiel leaned close, feeling a prickle of lightning in the humidity between them as he whispered, smouldering on Dean’s lips. “You first.”

Dean let out a whimper and went down this time, eyes on Castiel, breaths rushing from his mouth. His knees bumped the marble floor, hands on Castiel’s legs to support himself.

“Good,” Castiel said, taking Dean’s hair, caressing his head, thrilled when Dean shut his eyes and leaned into the touch. “Good boy.”

Dean moaned, loudly, and Castiel saw a splurt of pre-come escape the fabric of his underwear, falling onto another section of fabric and seeping in. Dean panted, still rolling his head into Castiel’s palm. “Caas...”

“Dean,” Castiel replied, looking down at Dean with his chin raised, eyebrow crooked. “Take the tape. That’s it, both hands. Now... you know... what to do...”

He thrust out his left thigh, resting his knee on Dean’s t-shirt, bare foot on Dean’s smooth thigh. Dean shivered, sucking his lower lip as he wound the tape behind Castiel’s thigh, shimmying it up to the widest point.

His eyes shot up, checking with Castiel, but when he saw Castiel’s calm gaze, he lowered his eyes again and measured carefully.

There came an audible shiver in his breath, and he bent forward until Castiel’s foot was pushed to the ground, and Dean rested his forehead on Castiel’s hairy thigh.

“What is it, Dean?” Castiel asked. He touched his fingertips to the nape of Dean’s neck, feeling searing body heat. “Are you all right?”

Dean lifted his head. “Twenty-seven,” he said, voice destroyed by lust. “Twenty-seven inches exactly.”

Castiel smirked. “Is that big?”

Dean nodded, softly.

“Is that very big?”

Dean’s lashes fluttered. “Is... Ah...” He looked down at his crotch, both of them watching his cock pulse by itself, a big, slimy, wet mess having spread all over the front of his boxers. Dean groaned, sliding his right hand against his navel, down, and into his underwear. He touched himself, one hand on Castiel’s thigh, stroking both.

“Do you like thighs more than arms?” Castiel asked, genuinely curious.

Dean shrugged. He shut his eyes, humping his hand. Castiel heard fast, wet noises as Dean began to shake himself in a loose fist, staying under the cover of his wet boxers.

“Is there anything else you’d like to... measure?” Castiel asked, hearing a crack in his own voice. He couldn’t remain as steady as he had before; he was sure he’d become almost as aroused as Dean, just expressing a great deal more self-control.

Dean cried out, grasping Castiel’s thigh tightly, rocking forward to kiss it. Castiel let out a flustered, “Oh,” rushing with heat and excitement as Dean licked his leg, tongue to hair and muscle. “Oh...”

Castiel couldn’t bear to resist any longer. He set his feet a little wider apart, one inner ankle touching Dean’s thigh, the other ankle touching the other thigh. He took Dean’s head in his hand, and without warning, pressed Dean’s entire face into the most sensitive part of his right thigh, groaning as he bit his lip, feeling Dean’s lips and eyelashes and burning-hot cheeks on his skin. Castiel huffed through a grin, whispering, “Yeah. Deeeeeaaaan.”

Dean opened his mouth and kissed Castiel’s inner thigh with tongue, sucking, moaning, both hands flying wet from his underwear and taking Castiel by the backs of his legs, widening his stance for him, so Dean could nuzzle between both thighs.

“Ah— Dean—?”

Castiel gasped in surprise as Dean began to suck his cock through the fabric of his underwear, mouthing wide and hurling hot air through the cloth, air that sent thrumming heatwaves up Castiel’s spine. Dean looked up, mouth full – and then he moaned, eyes falling half-closed, unfocused.

Castiel had never seen such a filthy sight. The blush on Dean’s cheeks and the shine of lust in his eyes was exquisite. Castiel wanted to take Dean’s love and draw it deeper, take his body and make it tremble, wet; then take his own soul and make Dean swallow it. So he grasped Dean’s head in one hand, underwear in the other, pulled his underwear down and pulled Dean’s mouth onto his erection.

Dean shut his eyes and relaxed, groaning in what sounded like relief; his hands gripped Castiel’s hips, head bobbing, sucking, sucking, thrusting his mouth smoothly over Castiel’s cock.

“Ouh...” Castiel’s head fell back, invisible puffs of breath rising to the ceiling lights. “Oh, Dean... Dean, yes...”

Dean gorged himself on Castiel’s offering, swallowing, tasting him, groaning in pleasure whenever Castiel felt a spit of fluid pulse onto that hot, pulling tongue. Dean kept his eyes shut, while one hand roamed down, stroking Castiel’s thigh.

Castiel lifted that thigh and raised it over Dean’s shoulder, using his heel to pull Dean in closer while Castiel stood on one foot, rotating his hips to push, push, push into Dean’s wet and hungry heat.

Soon Dean had taken all he could take, and his mouth fell away, drooling. He gasped, panting for breath, letting go of a quiet roar. He tipped his head back, grinning, eyes shut, lips slick wet. “Shit,” he said happily.

Castiel bent to take off his underwear, using them to clean up the wetness around his cock, then down between his thighs. “Do you want to keep going?” he asked. He’d only ever heard his voice growl that deep when he was furious.

Dean nodded, still wiping his mouth. “Yeah.” He nodded again. “Mm-hm.”

He placed his hands on his thighs – then, shaking like a newborn foal, he pushed himself to unsteady feet, reaching out a hand to rest on Castiel’s stomach for stability. He had joy in his eyes now, crinkles beside his eyes. There was no fear left, no hesitation.

“I got a question,” Dean said, standing to his full height, hand stroking behind Castiel’s neck as he sidled up to press their hips together. There was an amused twinkle in his eyes. “If you’re so big ‘n sexy, how come you hide under the coat?”

Castiel was surprised. “I like the coat. It’s comforting. Besides, I hardly think it would be sensible to enter a musca nest with skin exposed.”

Dean pursed his lips, eyes flicked up, head tilted to the side. “Guess that’s fair. But God, ew, stop talking about gross monsters.”

“Sorry,” Castiel grinned, butting his head against Dean’s.

They went quiet for a bit, each pondering. Dean swallowed, tipping his head so his forehead rested on Castiel’s temple. Castiel caressed Dean’s ear, making him smile.

“Is it weird if we kiss?” Dean asked.

Castiel squinted, eyes still closed. “Why would it be weird?”

Dean shrugged a shoulder. “I dunno. I mean... it’s sex. We’re having sex right now. It’s hot, and all, but... if we kiss it’s all... feelsy and shit.”

“Do you not feel a deep emotional connection to me while we do this?”

Dean’s lips parted. “What? Yeah. ‘Course. I was just askin’ you. Maybe you were just. I dunno. Wanted to fuck me or something. Just checking if it’s... anything more than that.”

Castiel grinned in disparaging disbelief, lifting his head to properly meet Dean’s eyes. He could have given a rousing speech about how it had always been more than that, and anything less than ‘that’ would never have been grounds for sex at all... but Castiel’s brain was full of desire and he didn’t like words any more, so he kissed Dean to explain.

Dean froze – then sank into the kiss with a great deal of verve, murmuring pleased notes, hands scrunching Castiel’s hair, hips working against Castiel’s, hearts together, heads turning in opposite ways. Dean kissed, and smooched, and Castiel held him and smiled as they dragged their already-deep friendship toward something equally as loving but desperately long-awaited.

Castiel began to walk them towards the bed, Dean shuffling backwards, Castiel pushing his big, meaty thighs between Dean’s slimmer, far less hairy legs. Dean squeaked in delight every time Castiel did that, and by the time they bumped the bed, Dean was whimpering, and Castiel was laughing, because no matter how seriously Dean took his pleasure, Castiel suspected it would always be a little funny how the size of his leg had reduced Dean to a wobbling, wanton creature.

Dean flomped back to the bed, gasping and moaning intermittently, hands running back through his hair, bowlegs unsure if they wanted to part. Castiel set a knee on the bed and crawled over him, as Dean scooted back to lie in the middle of the bed, at a diagonal to its length.

Dean fretted, twitching, hands on Castiel’s waist, apparently ready to roll over, but hesitating every time.

“What,” Castiel whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid,” Dean huffed with a laugh.

“What is?”

“I’m not sure if— Like— Like, I wanna be underneath, right? That’s so fuckin’ hot. But.” He gulped, a stiff shoulder jerking up as he blushed, eyes averted. “But I never topped with a guy before. Or maybe we’re not even, y’know, goin’ in. Maybe we’re just gonna mess around, I dunno—” He looked at Castiel for answers, but Castiel could only squint. “But even if we just did whatever, sh-should I be— Under? Or—?”

Castiel lowered his head, then his hips, resting his erection on Dean’s thigh. Dean watched the contact, felt Castiel’s weight on his leg, then looked to his face for a real response.

“I want to be underneath,” Castiel admitted, finding himself blushing. He smiled, looking down. “I want to be your... bottom.”

Dean gasped slowly. “Are you serious?”

Castiel met his eyes. He nodded.

Dean grinned. “After all that ‘get on your knees’ crap?”

Castiel squinted. “How is that related?”

Dean shrugged again. “All... tough and bossy?”

Castiel snorted. He fell off Dean and rolled onto his back, hands behind his head, legs open, glaring at Dean expectantly. “I can still boss you around.”

It slowly dawned on Dean what Castiel wanted, and he started to smile: a twitch on one corner of his lips, which soon grew into a lopsided, gleeful grin that tugged his freckles into new shapes beside his sparkling eyes.

“You’re a power bottom,” Dean said, with a warm voice. “Should’a guessed.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Castiel said, wriggling to get comfortable, “but I’m sure it’s probably accurate.”

Dean chuckled. He sat up and wrenched off his t-shirt, tossing it aside, then leaned towards the nightstand. He plucked out a bottle, plus something square and crackly. “You really wanna go all out?” he asked, shuffling close. “First time, right?”

Castiel blinked. “What else would we do?”

Dean’s lips parted. “Uh. Wait. You know we don’t have to fuck, right? There’s other kinds of sex. Like...” His fingertip slid up Castiel’s wet cock, circling the head and making Castiel’s vision white out. After some shivering, Castiel opened his eyes and saw Dean grinning down at him. “Like,” Dean continued, “we couuuuld... measure each other’s dicks. Orrrr... Hm...” He crawled up to sit on Castiel’s erection, rubbing his ass against it, pudgy and warm and heavy. “Rub. Me on you, you on me. Boner to boner. Or... I could push between your thighs...”

Castiel was sweating now. “I want.” He patted Dean’s leg, trying to hump. “Want you. Ih— Inside.”

“You wanna fuck?”

Castiel nodded, eyes half-closed.

Dean growled, leaning close to Castiel’s ear, gripping his chin between his fingers and thumb. “Say it,” he snarled, smiling around the words.

Castiel peeked at him, hooded eyes and careless, bitter words, “Fuck me.”

Dean growled like a tiger, arching over him, his eye contact growing more intense. “Say it again. What d’ya want, Cas? Tell me.”

Castiel shuddered, feeling two wet fingers slip between his buttocks. “Auh! Fuck! Fuck me. Fuck me. Deaaaa—” He lashed out and grabbed Dean’s hair, gasping, crying out as Dean laughed, pushing those two wet fingers straight inside him. Castiel hadn’t noticed him lubricating them but he was indeed lubricated, slipping straight in, straight out, alarmingly thick.

“Big fingers,” Castiel gasped.

Dean cackled. “Wait ‘til you realise how big my dick is, buddy. Doesn’t hafta be bigger than yours to be big enough.”

Castiel keened in discomfort, pushing his heels into the bed, ass rising. Dean followed him, soothing, “Easy, easy,” helping him back to the bed, kissing his neck. “I gotcha. You got this, Cas. It feel good? You like my fingers?”

Castiel bit his lip. “I thought it would feel different.”

“Yeah? What’s it like?”

Castiel shrugged. “It... It feels like...?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re looking for something in a purse, and I’m the purse.” Castiel frowned.

Dean burst out laughing. “I thought you were gonna say it feels like you’re pooping.”

“That too.”

“But you went with ‘purse’?”

“It seemed less crude. And I do feel like— Eep!” He spasmed, hands flat to the bed, pulling the sheets. He began to sweat in waves, gasping, panting, dizzy. “Oh, my. Oh, my, Deeean—”

“That’s your prostate,” Dean murmured, smiling over him, eyes on the wall ahead of him, squinting as he concentrated. “Oop, there it is again.”

Castiel sobbed, shattering like glass across the bed, legs splayed, arms stretching as he presented his whole body for Dean, wanting him, feeling sexy for him. “Dean...”

“You like that?”

Castiel nodded frantically. “Better than pooping.”

Dean guffawed, torso folding down, sweaty hair flopping lower. “That’s a compliment and a half, huh. Better than pooping.”

Castiel snorted, settling to enjoy Dean’s attention. Dean reached for more lubricant, and Castiel flinched, then gasped in pleasure as Dean applied more, and the slickness doubled the ease with which Dean pushed in.

“Read a thing the other day,” Dean said, “about how there’s no such thing as too much lube when it comes to anal.” He wet his lips, shrugging. “You, uh. You feel like that’s accurate?

Castiel nodded. He concentrated on breathing, because it was becoming harder and harder to do so.

“Think you could take another finger?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded.

His eyes rolled back in his head and he panted as Dean did as he’d offered, thickening his insertion, stretching Castiel’s hole with gentle wriggles. It didn’t hurt like Castiel expected, and what he felt wasn’t pleasure – at least, not directly from Dean’s fingers – but it was enjoyment, certainly; it was overwhelming and distinctly physical – surges of light rushed up through his chest, and he felt a loving tension in his belly from being watched while he was naked and his guard was down. He didn’t feel pleasure from Dean’s fingers, but he felt pleasure from Dean’s care. It barely made a difference which; it felt good, and he wanted more.

“Please,” he breathed... “Dean... I-I want...”

Sam sniffed awake, startled by a noise. He sat up, turning on his lamp.

A low drone, then a mumbling utterance came through the bunker’s thick walls. That was Dean’s voice, talking faintly. Maybe he was on the phone.

Then Castiel cried— “Dean!”

Sam’s skin prickled, turning his head so his ear faced the back wall, listening harder. Cas sounded desperate. Were they fighting? Was Dean hurt?

Dean spoke again, and Sam relaxed, hearing the placating tone of Dean’s voice. Maybe Cas was angry but Dean was working to calm him.

But then came a thump on the wall, and a crash, and Castiel keened, “Dean— Dean, please, please—”

Sam had never heard him so distressed. He leapt out of bed and ran from his room, hastening around the corner to Dean’s bedroom door. He waited outside, hand around the handle – he’d paused because he heard Dean’s voice again, soft laughter.

“There, you see? Wasn’t so hard. Relax, man.”

“AUH!” Castiel snarled, fury in his voice. “Dean!”

God, they were probably playing a board game, weren’t they? Sam rolled his eyes, turning the handle and opening the door. He was ready to tell them off for making so much noise, when he stepped in and looked upon a scene he had no business seeing.

He remained silent, frozen, heart clenched – he backed out, eyes shut, and closed the door in total silence.

Cas was lying naked with his back on the bed. Dean leaned close with his weight on Cas, also naked, with his feet on the floor, fingers God only knew where. Castiel’s legs were slung over Dean’s shoulders, his back arching, his head pushed back into the sheets. Dean’s mouth was... full. Sam didn’t want to think about what was inside it. Or why Castiel enjoyed it so much.

Sam was sweating. He grinned, staring blankly at the bunker hallway, shaking his head like he could erase the image in his retinas like an Etch-a-Sketch.

He stumbled away down the hall, needing to splash cold water on his face.

Maybe he’d sleep in the library tonight.

“Dean—” Castiel was shaking, sobbing. “Pl— Please...”

“Okay,” Dean promised, grinning into Castiel’s pubic hair. “Okay, let’s go.” He eased his fingers out of Castiel, making him whimper. “Gimme a second, I’mma clean up.”

He went to the sink in the corner of his bedroom, soaping up and washing his hands carefully. He heard Castiel trying to control his hastened breathing, and rolling in the bed, finding a good position. Dean looked up into the mirror on the medicine cabinet, grinning at the sight of Cas sitting up, running his hands back through his hair in awe. Dean then grinned at his own reflection, eyes agleam, a seductive darkness in his gaze. He purred a contented note, then shook his wrists, reached for a towel, and dried his hands as he went back to the bed, laying the towel beside Cas for later cleanup.

“A’right,” Dean said casually, loving gaze set on Castiel, as Castiel sat, leaning back with his weight on his hands. One foot swung off the bed, reaching to stroke Dean’s inner knee. Dean snickered, crawling to kiss Cas, following him down as they lay together, sinking into each other’s heat by the mouth and by hands, arousals drawn together, slick and ready for more.

Castiel let out a breath and broke the kiss, bumping Dean’s front as he rolled over.

“Oh?” Dean smiled. “Wanna go from behind?”

Castiel nodded, setting his knees carefully on the bed, far apart enough that Dean fit between them. “Please don’t make me wait.”

Dean liked to tease but he didn’t like to torture, so did as he was told. He fiddled with the condom wrapper, uttering assurances to keep Castiel patient as he covered himself up, trying to get the condom comfortable.

“Whew,” he breathed, hands placed on Castiel’s lower back, sliding up, massaging. “You ready?” He reached for the lube and drenched Cas’ crack with it, making him tremble and whine. “Cas?”

“I’m ready,” Castiel said, firmly.

Dean’s eyes flicked to the ceiling, giving a silent prayer to absolutely nobody but himself, hoping that this would go right, for both their sake.

He shut his eyes and pushed in.

Smooth. Deep.

He’d expected Castiel to moan, but he went silent, tense, shivering.

Dean sank as deeply as he could, groaning as he folded over Castiel’s back, holding him, kissing his shoulder, letting go of a fiery breath over the nape of his neck. His hands found Castiel’s, stretching into the sheets over his head, and their fingers tangled, holding tight, holding so damn tight.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, guttural. “OhhmmGod... Caaas...”

Castiel laughed. “Yes, that is my name. The shorter, bastardised version, anyway.”

Dean laughed back, grinning and kissing Castiel’s upper spine. “This... f-feels amazing.” He shut his eyes just to feel it, not moving, just melding to his friend. He chuckled, then laughed out, “Spaceship in for docking, Cap’n. Beep, beep, beep—”

Castiel snorted. “You are insufferable.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who’s in love with me.”

Castiel smiled, stroking Dean’s thumb with his own thumb. “This is true. And who said I was in love with you, anyway?”

“You did. When you kissed me.”

Castiel considered that. “Did you say the same thing when you kissed back?”

Dean opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shut his eyes, bit his lip, and began to push. Softly, sweetly. Castiel’s body responded by relaxing, his spine dipping towards the bed, and Dean followed, laying his weight on his angel, squirming to hump against his ass.

“Mmm, nice n’ squishy,” Dean muttered. “Muscles are great and all, but I love me a cushion for the pushin’.” He reached down and spanked Castiel’s ass, making Cas gasp. “Hell yeah.”

“Dean,” Castiel said flatly, with the tiniest undertone of amusement, “perhaps if I knew sex with you would be like this I wouldn’t have wanted it so badly.”

Dean tried to laugh, but swallowed, having to admit to himself he was hurt. “Sorry. All kinds of dorkus traits come right outta me when I’m – y’know. Happy. I’ll try to rein it in, huh.”

Castiel turned his head, but couldn’t turn it far enough to meet Dean’s eyes. “Did I say you should do that?” He flicked his eyes up, then sighed. “Let me turn over, we need to be face-to-face. You’re missing my facial expressions and thus my meaning.”

“Am I?” Dean pulled out, still sullen. “‘Cause your words said a lot, there, Cas.”

Castiel sighed, arranging himself with his legs open, arms up to guide Dean down by his shoulders. He pulled him down further as Dean slid himself back in, and Castiel kissed him.

“Earth to Dean,” Castiel said, with a playful squint, “Spaceship successfully docked.”

Dean blew a raspberry of laughter, casting a layer of spittle over Castiel’s face, which made him snarl in complaint, wiping his face and wrinkling his nose.

Castiel laughed, then, and reached up to wrap both arms behind Dean’s neck, bringing him down for a big kiss, beside his ear, then his cheek, then slowly and wetly upon his lips. It was a wholesome, heartening kiss, and Dean smiled into it, feeling his eyes wrinkle and his heart leap. “Mmm,” he droned into Castiel’s mouth. “Mmmm you kisshhh good.” Smooch, smooch, moan...

Without warning, Castiel wrapped his legs tighter around Dean’s waist and hurled him over in the bed, making Dean yelp – he collapsed back, bumping his head on the headboard with a thonk.

“Oh— Oh, no, I’m so sorry,” Castiel cooed, hurrying to soothe Dean’s bumped head with a hand. “I didn’t mean— Are you okay?”

Dean was still squinty-eyed, face tight, rubbing his head. “What’re you even tryna do,” he muttered.

“I wanted to be on top,” Castiel said apologetically. Indeed, he sat on Dean, ass still full of his cock.

Dean relaxed, interested. He put his hands on Castiel’s gorgeously thick thighs, rubbing, then quirked up a grin. “Cowboy style?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Yes, cowboy style,” he said, with a long-suffering sigh.

He sucked on his lower lip, holding Dean’s gleeful gaze as he started to rock, hips shifting forward and back, forward and back, supported by his thighs. As Dean began to gasp, eyelashes fluttering, Castiel turned to bouncing, just lightly bumping his weight on his heels, toes dug into the bed.

“Auh... Ah,” Castiel started to feel the rhythm – again, not necessarily pleasure, but finding himself thrilled by the sensation of Dean’s erection inside him, pumping heat into the condom, stretching Castiel’s open hole. He liked this movement. Bouncing. It felt like a game, like it was fun. He grinned, groaning, head lolling to one side.

“Ohhh, yeah,” Dean purred, hands streaking up Castiel’s chest, holding his nipples in the centre of his palms. “Oh, that’s good. That’s fuckin’ awesome, Cas, yeah.”

“Mmm.” Castiel changed up his up-down rhythm to more of a swirling circle, up, back and down, forward and up. Dean tossed his head back and yelled, and Castiel groaned in delight, hands on Dean’s chest to support himself.

He upped his game again, starting to thump himself down onto Dean’s upper thighs, making him grunt, making himself grunt. Dean’s mouth opened, eyes closed, his hands going weak and falling to lie limp on the bed.

Castiel moaned deeply, smiling, feeling rushes of gold lift from within him. He tensed his shoulders, up by his ears, keeping pressure on Dean’s chest with his palms. He felt beautiful doing this, he didn’t know how or why. He felt pretty. Sparkling. He wished Dean would look at him to see how radiant he was becoming.

“AUhh...” Dean surged upward by the hips, starting to hump, gasping, hands taking Castiel’s waist.

“Look at me, Dean,” Castiel breathed, his voice corrupted and wild. He wondered if his expression and hair looked the same. “Look at me.”

Dean looked, and his smile split into a ravenous grin, eyes shining with joy. “Fuck,” he said, and Castiel agreed. “Shit. God, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Is that not what you’re doing?”

“Again,” Dean said. “Like, every fuckin’ day. All day. Just do stupid stuff like kiss you n’ feed you and do your hair and have your babies.”

Castiel threw back his head and laughed, then rolled his neck to rest his cheek on his own shoulder, peering down at Dean with all the love in the world. “None of that sounds stupid to me.”

Dean blushed, rolling his eyes. “‘Course you’d say that while we’re boinking, buddy. Emotional peak, or what-have-you.”

“Hmm,” Castiel shrugged. “You’ve done my hair before.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it was freakin’ mess.”

“I doubt the first time you thought about kissing me was the moment at which we kissed.”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe there was a... few years of delay.”

“Mm. And while neither of us can make babies, you can definitely eat. And I might be willing to swallow a few things, should you offer them to me...”

Dean cackled. “Dirty.”

“We are talking about food, yes?”

Dean scoffed. “Uh-huh.”

Castiel grinned, reaching to run his hand through Dean’s hair.

Dean shut his eyes blissful. “Hmmm, love when you do that.”

“Touch your hair?”

“Pet me.” Dean sighed in delight and pushed into Castiel’s hand.

So Castiel petted him some more. And then some more. And then set both hands furiously into Dean’s hair and ruffled him with vigor, laughing, while Dean yipped and squirmed and kicked about, laughing, grunting, pushing Castiel off him.

Castiel dropped his feet to the floor, guffawing as Dean chased him from the bed, but found his legs were too weak and collapsed forward into Castiel’s chest. Castiel caught him easily, bringing him up to kiss him.

For a while they went quiet and still, making out, Dean’s hands in Castiel’s hair, Castiel’s hands holding Dean’s lower back.

Then Dean leaned forward, and Castiel’s back thumped the wall. “A—oh.”

Dean grinned. “Legs up?”

Castiel looked down, then back at Dean. “Excuse me?”

“Okay, don’t then.” Dean took Castiel by the waist and turned him around, flattening him to the plaster. Castiel tried to express a complaint, but then he shuddered, and gasped, and started to grin, because Dean had begun fucking him again, murmuring against his neck, toothy grin resting on Castiel’s bare shoulder.

“How’s that?” Dean whispered, eyelashes tickling Castiel’s neck. Thrust, thrust, thrust, pushing Castiel into the gritty wall. Castiel tried to resist the push as much as possible, as the wall was rough and his erection wasn’t a fan of that texture.

“Hand,” Castiel demanded, opening his own.

Dean gave him a hand delicately, like a lady, then giggled as Castiel yanked it to his cock.

Castiel moaned as Dean started to jack him off, tightly and slowly, at a completely different pace to the thumping in his ass.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed. “Oh, God, yeah, this is hot. So into this, Cas.”

“Th— That’s good,” Castiel managed to grunt out. “Would be very upset if you didn’t like this.”

Dean chuckled, nuzzling the back of Castiel’s ear. “Are you gonna make me say stuff later?”

“Say what?”

Dean went quiet, then uttered, “You know what.”

Castiel wet his lips, pressing both hands into the wall to keep himself away from it. He looked down, seeing a smudge of pre-come on the green plaster, just starting to dribble. His eyes rose to the ceiling, and he finally answered, “I can’t make you say anything.”

“Psh. Yeah right.”

“I really can’t.” Castiel bit his lip and set a hand behind him, pushing Dean out of him. He turned, meeting Dean’s wary eyes. “Come here.” Castiel pulled Dean close, shutting his eyes to kiss him gently. They both sighed as Castiel broke the kiss. “I can boss you around, Dean, but you know as well as I do how disobedient you are.”

Dean quirked his lip and winked, which made Castiel smile.

“Unless you’re ready and willing to say... something, whatever it is you want to say, then I can’t force you.”

“What if—” Dean looked away, then stepped closer, knee bumping Castiel’s, face gently tucked to Castiel’s shoulder. A whisper, “What if I wanted to say it but the only way I’m ever gonna say it is if you make me?”

Castiel drew back his head, wanting to look Dean in the eye. But Dean wouldn’t look back.

“Lie down on the bed,” Castiel told him.

Dean met his eyes now, curious.

“Do it,” Castiel said.

Dean did as he was told, walking backwards, lips parted, eyes never straying from Castiel’s. He sat, hands on the side of the bed, looking every bit as obedient as he apparently wanted to be. Castiel hadn’t been expecting Dean to give in like that, giving himself over to instruction. Castiel knew Dean took orders well, but also broke the rules when it suited him, so there was no way to know what the result would be, or whether he prefered to obey or disobey.

Maybe he wanted both. Maybe he needed both.

Castiel went up to him, taking his stubbled chin with gentle knuckles. They looked into each other, slowly, lovingly. Castiel felt his cock sag against Dean’s sternum, as Dean’s throbbed against his own navel. For half a minute, they both ignored their own needs, distracted by a peaceful moment of worship.

For that was what this was, wasn’t it? Worship.

A creature built to love an absent God with utter devotion; a man with no true creed but a heart burning with faith in other people – what could they love but each other? To Dean, Castiel was a beast beyond understanding, yet corporeal enough to be worthy of appreciation. To Castiel, Dean was the embodiment of everything God was wrong about. He was nothing but flaws, and thus he was perfect.

Their love and lives revolved around each other, sinners with good intentions, and in this way, they were both holy.

Dean lay back as Castiel pushed him, and Castiel bowed over him, head down to his shrine. He kissed Dean’s heart, holding hands over Dean’s stomach as it rose up, filled with breath.

Castiel kissed Dean’s hands, then took a finger into his mouth and sank it deeply into rich, red heat. Castiel sucked it, turning it under his tongue. His eyes rose to Dean’s, and they watched each other, as Dean slipped another finger past Castiel’s lips, as Castiel knelt at his beloved altar, taking communion. Dean filled his mouth, and Castiel shut his eyes, moaning, loving every finger as it traced his lips, stroked his tongue, hooked behind his teeth. He opened his mouth and eyes, dazed and in love, breathing out as Dean slipped his wet fingertips out, taking Castiel’s chin, both only vaguely aware of the saliva left on his fingers.

“Up,” Dean breathed.

This time, Castiel was the one who obeyed.

Dean lay back, holding Castiel’s eyes. “C’mon.”

Castiel stood, legs apart as he crawled upright onto the mattress, walking on his knees to tower over Dean. He kept one hand behind his own neck, not ashamed, but pleasurably vulnerable. His other hand lowered to Dean’s belly, and rested there, steadying himself as he brought himself down, breath catching, gasp sharp in his throat as he sank down once again onto Dean’s erection.

“...Beep, beep, beep,” Dean said quietly – and Castiel began to sob, laughing, a tumbling chuckle which quickly became uncontrollable; he hurled raucous breaths over Dean’s face, eyes tight shut, watering, body weak and trembling and rocking to find release, while Dean held him tightly, laughing too, bringing him down to kiss his thumping heart.

“Say it,” Castiel wheezed through his grin, his words coming out careless and quiet. “Say it, Dean, I can’t make you. Just say it.”

“Say what?” Dean asked, eyes averted, smile gone but eyes still crinkled at the sides. “What am I meant to say, Cas?”

“You know,” Castiel breathed, hand sliding up to grip Dean’s neck, gently, squeezing, then releasing. He bent low and kept pushing, fucking himself and plucking at Dean’s ear with his lips. “You know.”

Dean gulped, looking at Castiel. “You say it first.”

“I love you,” Castiel said easily, holding himself over Dean, relaxed, not caring how heavy he might be, pressing on Dean’s cock, working it inside him. “I love you, Dean.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile, rolling his eyes away. “Ah, shucks.”

“Did you just want to hear it?” Castiel teased.

“Maybe.” Dean stroked Castiel’s thighs as they tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed, repeatedly dropping Castiel ass-first onto him. “Say it again.”

“No.” Castiel scrunched Dean’s hair in his hand, pulling a little. “Tell me you love me.”

Dean snorted, chin to his clavicle, eyes averted.

“Say it,” Castiel demanded, surging down, snapping teeth beside Dean’s ear, fist in his hair. “Say it or I’ll never say it again.”

Dean chuckled. “Don’t believe you. Once you say it you can’t un-say it.”

“Is that why you’re so afraid?” Castiel tilted his head, kissing Dean’s cheek. “And why you’re so afraid of telling Sam?”

Dean shrugged.

“Can’t take it back,” Castiel said, partly to himself, but saying it aloud so Dean knew he was in the process of understanding. “Once you say it to me... that’s it, isn’t it? You’re bound to me. Because you only say it when you mean it.”

Dean muttered back, “Think I’ve been bound to you for a while, bud. I can’t even think sexy thoughts about anyone that ain’t you.”

“Yes,” Castiel said kindly, stroking Dean’s jaw with the back of his hand, hearing it bristle. “So, then, you have nothing to fear.”

Dean looked at him, lips parting like he might say it, now...

Or now...

Or now...

“I love you,” Castiel said, sinking to a halt. He held Dean within him, and held him in his hands, palms by his face, stroking to his heart.

“I love... you... too,” Dean whispered.

He shut his eyes.

Then he smiled, and opened them.

Castiel sighed with satisfaction, and then roared with the shock of sensation as he got up off Dean, cock slipping out. He bent to get a tissue from the dropped box beside the dropped books on the floor, and used a tissue to take off the condom, at which Dean looked away.

Castiel left the tissue balled up on the floor, then flumped onto the bed, lying down with his arms out for Dean.

Dean rolled over him, smiling, and they kissed.

Eyes closed.

Soft. Warm.

Then Dean licked both their lips and took Castiel’s cock in hand – soon joined by Dean’s own. Castiel cried out in unexpected delight, looking at Dean more intently, smiling, stroking his hair back as Dean pleasured them both together.

“Big hands,” Castiel said, eyes dipping to Dean’s lips.

“Big cock,” Dean replied, smiling open-mouthed around the ‘k’, tongue hovering behind his lower teeth.

“Yours is bigger,” Castiel said.

Dean seemed surprised. He looked down. “No it’s not.”

Castiel’s hand slipped across the bed, and without looking, he brought back the tape measure. He handed it to Dean without a word.

Dean grinned.

He bent his head, and Castiel watched the ceiling, hissing in a breath as the cold tape wrapped around his cock, then Dean fumbled to measure its length, too. Castiel shut his eyes and murmured, “Mm,” as Dean bent to lick him, just once.

Dean measured himself, then was satisfied. He tossed aside the tape, and lay down on top of Castiel, arms slipping under his lower back, their dense thighs pressed together, bellies together, ribcages hard on each other. Dean started to thrust, holding Castiel’s eyes.

“And?” Castiel fingered Dean’s sweaty hair off his forehead. “Who’s bigger?”

Dean shrugged. There was a glint of secrecy in his eyes; he did know, but wouldn’t say.

“Say it,” Castiel demanded, since that had worked all the other times.

But Dean laughed, shaking his head. He nuzzled Castiel’s cheek, kissed him, and whispered warm on his skin, “Doesn’t matter. I, uh. I love you just the way you are, or whatever it is people say.”

Castiel squinted. “That makes it sound like I am the smaller one.”

“Do you actually care?” Dean tested, one eyebrow up. “‘Cause honestly, I don’t think you do.”

“You like... big things.”

“There’s a Chrysler building inside you somewhere, Cas, I think that’s enough bigness for both of us.”

Castiel chuckled. “Are you the Chrysler building, or am I?”

“You!”

“Oh really.” Castiel wrapped his arms and legs over Dean, smooching his cheek, whispering dirtily in his ear, “Because I recall someone feeling surprisingly large once they got inside me.”

Dean blushed. Castiel felt his heat, and was pleased.

He tipped up his hips so Dean rubbed more against his scrotum, which Castiel found exciting. They felt tight and fat and he liked that Dean’s weight rolled them under their bodies, then back again. But then, suddenly, there was a thickness inside him and it was too heavy and too electric, and it suddenly began to grow and grow and overtake his body—

“Ahh— Ah, ah,” Castiel lifted his chin, eyes shut. “Dean—! DeanDeanDean—”

“Yeah, I can feel it too.” Dean kissed Castiel’s neck. “You ever come before?”

Castiel shook his head, breaths puffing out, burning his mouth. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s fine,” Dean nodded. “Just relax into it, okay? Don’t panic. Easy— Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He kissed Castiel’s neck, tying to soothe him, as Castiel was hyperventilating in his sudden overwhelm. “It’s just a whole lotta pressure. We cranked it up and now it’s gotta go somewhere.”

“I want to stop. I want to stop, Dean—”

“Hey. Okay, Okay, hang on.” Dean shook, wincing as he eased to a halt. “Are you sure? It’s gonna hurt more if you stop. Angel or not, you’re more than halfway human. Blue balls ain’t fun.”

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

Dean seemed stumped. “But...?”

Castiel’s eyes filled with tears. “I d-don’t...?”

“Hey...” Dean took Castiel’s jaw in a tender hand, kissing him. “We can stop.”

“It hurts.”

“Going, or stopping?”

“Both.” Castiel squirmed, uncomfortable.

Dean sighed, sitting up and looking down, rubbing his mouth thoughtfully with the back of his hand.

“What if we went gently?” he asked. “Real slow.”

Castiel took a few breaths, considering that. “Your mouth was nice...?”

Dean grinned. “Okay.” He wriggled down, as Castiel wriggled up, laying his head on Dean’s pillow. They aligned with the length of the bed for the first time, and Dean put his hands on Castiel’s belly, rubbing softly as he took his cock into his mouth.

Castiel sighed in relief, eyes shut, head back.

“Mm,” Dean popped his lips free, grinning. “You like that?”

Castiel nodded.

“Awesome. Okay. I’m gonna keep going until you’re done, you fine with that?”

Castiel wasn’t sure. “What if I don’t like it?”

Dean offered him a hand, and Castiel took it. “Squeeze twice if you wanna tap out. One-two.” He demonstrated. “Yeah?”

Castiel nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Dean winked. “Relax, Cas.” He hesitated, then said, “I love you.”

Castiel grinned, lying back as Dean sank down on him, wet mouth, hot tongue, giving him gentle, slow suction.

Castiel purred and spread his legs, free hand sinking between his thighs to touch Dean’s head. Dean moaned, starting to stroke himself. Castiel couldn’t see, but he could hear. Dean must have been feeling a lot of pleasure in this moment...

Physically, Castiel didn’t feel anything particularly pleasant, but he tried to focus on what he did enjoy; he was safe, and wilfully defenceless. He trusted Dean, and appreciated the way he touched, and the noises he made with his mouth, and the way he soothed Castiel with a stroking thumb along the softest edge of Castiel’s hand.

Castiel didn’t know if he could come. He wasn’t certain he wanted to. But he surrendered himself to Dean, forgetting about what was happening, basking singularly in the feeling of Dean’s closeness and trust.

Dean kept going for what had to be... ten, then twelve, and eventually sixteen, seventeen minutes. They were squishy, quiet minutes. Castiel realised Dean was becoming concerned, about halfway through that; most of Dean’s previous partners probably didn’t take this long to climax. But Dean did not stop, only changed his patterns, using moans as a vibration.

Around the twenty-minute mark, he began to hum the chorus of Sweet Home Alabama. Castiel burst out laughing – only to spasm in shock, clutching the sheets in tight fists, electrified by some inner light—

Then, in a dizzy, humid moment, his opened his eyes to find Dean next to him, hushing, kissing, whispering nice things. Dean kissed Castiel’s chest, nosing him.

“You did good. You did so good, Cas.” Dean kissed his neck, hand warm behind his head. “Was that – did it feel okay?”

Castiel shrugged. “I believe Jimmy said it, once, when he was still around,” he panted, eyes drifting to Dean’s bedroom wall as he rolled to hold him tight. “Like being strapped to a comet.”

“That was about being possessed by you, an angel.”

“Yeah.” Castiel shut his eyes. “Felt like I had my full power back for a second.”

“Soooo... that’s... good?”

Castiel shrugged again. “I think in some ways, I prefer being human.”

Dean grinned, resting their foreheads together, kissing once. “You wanna jack me off? Saved it for you.” His hand took Castiel’s and guided it to his own erection.

Castiel looked down tiredly, seeing how his hand fit snugly around Dean’s girth, and had an easy ride to the tip and back down. “You’re right,” he said, as Dean squirmed in pleasure. “You are just the right size.”

Dean grinned, batting Castiel’s chest. “Aw, you.”

Castiel examined the white liquid he’d spilled on his own chest. He touched it with a finger, looking at Dean – and Dean looked back, curious.

Castiel shrugged. “Maybe I’ll get used to it.”

Dean blinked a few times, then averted his eyes. “My experience, Cas? Once you have one orgasm you never wanna stop. Basically the same for everyone I’ve met.”

Castiel swallowed. “In that case, I think I’m different. I don’t really... Ahh, I don’t know. I don’t really feel much when you touch me. At least not physically. I can feel you, of course I can, but... it’s no more exciting than when you touch my shoulder. Then again,” he grinned, cocking his head into the pillow, giving Dean a bright-eyed look, “It is very exciting that we’re naked.”

“Yeah?”

Castiel nodded. “You have such beautiful freckles...” He dragged a wet fingertip down Dean’s clavicle. “And your heart...” He held his palm over Dean’s heartbeat, inhaling shakily as he smiled. “And... Ah-and then, when this is over...” He met Dean’s eyes, and whispered, aroused by the thought, “I can watch you sleep, all night, and I’ll watch over you, and... and... hold you...”

Dean’s lips parted. “That’s sexy to you?”

Castiel nodded eagerly, nudging closer, weight halfway on Dean, still working his fist around Dean’s cockhead, slicked by the new outpouring of pre-come. They kissed, smacking lips, touching noses, sharing breath.

“And you’ll be naked... and asleep...”

Dean snorted, half-grinning. “That shit still freaks me out, Cas, not gonna lie.”

“Why, though?” Castiel looked at him carefully. “Is it because you’ve never been that vulnerable with anyone?”

“You yanked a love confession outta me, Cas, I’ve been vulnerable.”

“Not like that.” Castiel kissed his forehead, nosing stray hairs away. “I think what you’re afraid of is actually the opposite of what I want to give you.”

“Wha?” Dean was struggling to comprehend now; Castiel was squeezing his cock tighter, focusing on the head, and Dean clutched at Castiel, legs juddering, letting out soft little cries of, “Ah... Aeh! Au-huhuhh—”

“What I want,” Castiel said, pushing his thumbpad into Dean’s slit, making him hiss, “is to keep you safe, and loved, and give you comfort, support and protection when you’re at your most vulnerable. But you think me watching you takes away all those things.”

Dean shook his head, shaking, shaking, squeaking instead of talking. “Wuh. Wasn’t. Used to. Different now.”

“I know,” Castiel smiled. “I think we’re ready to try again, don’t you?”

Dean held his breath, whimpering, trembling in place, tense as his climax burst out, wetting Castiel’s hand and the pillow they shared. “Hm! Hm! Hmm, Cas, Cashhh,” Dean sighed, collapsing and rolling onto his back. Castiel followed him, kissing his neck softly.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dean,” Castiel said. He paused, then added, “Except to the bathroom, and to have a shower – and also to eat, I’m kind of hungry now, would you believe—”

Dean laughed, pushing Castiel away by his face, and Castiel tumbled to his side of the bed, chuckling.

They both peered out and their eyes met.

Dean reached, stroking Castiel’s chest with the back of his hand.

Castiel took that hand and held it. They both smiled effortlessly, tiredly, with love in their eyes.

Dean wrenched himself up onto his elbows, groaning. “Alright. Mm.” He rolled to kissed Castiel’s cheek. “Let’s go see about that shower, huh?”

Sam was happy eating his cereal. Nobody would know he was eating cereal, because he only ate cereal when nobody else would see. It was half sugar. He wouldn’t be caught dead eating this crap. He crunched, and slurped the pink milk, and read the box in front of him, carefully avoiding the nutrition facts.

He heard a joyous, rumbling laugh echoing down the hall, and a door slamming. He figured Dean and Cas were done with their – ugh, whatever – and had finally left the bathroom. Maybe now, finally, after forty-five minutes, he could sneak back out of the bunker’s kitchen and brush his teeth. No way he could’ve gone earlier; Cas had been singing Sweet Home Alabama in the shower and Dean had interrupted every few seconds, correcting him with “Swee-eeet hole, ba ba ba, yeah!” which only made Castiel laugh.

Sam had hurried away very quickly when he’d heard that. To calm himself, he ate more cereal.

He was on his third bowl now. That was more cereal than he’d allowed himself in the last month, all at once.

He took a sip of his still-hot decaf coffee, swilling it around his mouth to melt the sugar. He drew a deep breath, preparing to get up and head back to bed, when Castiel entered the kitchen backwards, giggling and kissing Dean – Sam startled, standing up so fast he toppled right over the bench at the breakfast table, and his back hit the hard floor, arms flailing.

“Oh, shit,” Dean said, but Sam got the distinct feeling the expletive was more for the fact Sam had seen them freshly-showered, kissing, in their underwear, in the kitchen at three in the morning, rather than the fact that Sam was sprawled on the floor, dazed, with cereal milk and broken bits of bowl dotted around him.

“Sam, are you okay?” Castiel hastened to help Sam up. “Are you hurt?”

“Nope, nope, I’m fine, I’m fine,” Sam breathed, shaking a hand, grinning as Castiel backed away now Sam was back on his feet. “I’m fine.”

Castiel looked to Dean, and Dean looked sheepish, hand over his mouth, side-eyeing Castiel.

Sam threw up his hands and sighed, going to get a broom for all the broken ceramic.

“S-Sam,” Dean said bravely, “when we came in, did you, see...?” He looked at Sam, who didn’t look back. “Actuallyyouknowwhatnevermind c’mon Cas let’s go— It’s fine! He’s got this. Oh – sssshhhhit, heya, Jack.”

Sam looked up, smiling as Jack appeared in the kitchen doorway, hands on either side of the opening. He was squinty and tousle-haired, wearing a heather-grey sleep shirt.

“I heard a crash, is everyone still alive?” he asked, voice rasping.

“Alive, yes,” Sam said, sweeping. “Sane, though, after what I’ve seen—? Ha-hah!”

Dean sighed, hands over his eyes.

Castiel let out a slow breath. “Dean, should we tell...?”

“Right now?” Dean spread his hands. “Surrounded by—”

“Ooh, is that Crunch O’s?” Jack hopped down the steps and into the kitchen, avoiding the broken bowl and getting a new one. “I love this kind of cereal.”

Castiel stood with his mouth open, eyes following Jack, then Dean, as Dean let out a brash scoff and went to get a bowl too.

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean uttered, handing the first bowl to Castiel, taking a second for himself. “You said you were hungry.”

“Yes...”

“So sit.” Dean straddled the bench, taking the cereal box from Jack and toppling fifty golden nuggets and marshmallows into his bowl. “Get the milk, would ya?”

Castiel floated dazedly to the fridge, and brought the milk. He then sat beside Dean. Sam sat down opposite Dean, thinking Cas looked odd in just a t-shirt and boxers, but unusually relaxed. Sam didn’t need to imagine what relaxed him, long shower aside. Sam had seen too much.

“So,” Dean said, as Jack returned with spoons, and sat opposite Castiel, “what’s new with everyone? What’s going on? What dark, private secrets are we all keeping from each other, huh?” He seemed halfway between gleeful and manic, and the sugar hadn’t even hit him yet. He shovelled a Crunch O nugget into his mouth, and destroyed it between his teeth. “Jack? You wanna go first?”

Jack swallowed, then opened his mouth, staring uncertainly at Dean. “I think I accidentally turned my snake vegetarian. And he made friends with the mouse I tried to feed him. So I... have a pet mouse now...?”

Dean pursed his lips, looking pleased. “Okay. Awesome. Sam?” His piercing stare shot to Sam, wild-eyed.

Sam sighed. “Okay, fine! You win. I like cereal.”

“Too easy,” Dean uttered. “Which of us doesn’t have a super obvious guilty pleasure, huh?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s yours?” His eyes shot to Castiel and back.

Dean cleared his throat. “Well, if you must know...”

Castiel drew a quick breath. “I forgot to send my email.”

“What?” Dean looked at him.

“My email. To Jody, about the musca larvae. I forgot to hit ‘send’.”

Dean rolled his eyes, shoulders shifting as he sank closer to his cereal. He didn’t say anything.

Sam looked knowingly at Jack. Jack looked back, smiling, chewing, blissfully ignorant of why Sam looked so despairing.

“Cas,” Sam said plainly, offering him a smile. “What did you... do tonight?”

Castiel’s eyes leapt to Dean, while Dean looked at his bowl. Dean snorted. Then he giggled, fist in front of his lips, trying and failing to keep milk from dribbling out.

“Dean,” Castiel said scoldingly, pouring fresh milk into his own cereal.

“I’sh jusht,” Dean muttered, swallowing, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “What did you do tonight, Cas? Or, uh, better yet – who?” He looked at Castiel, eyes shining.

Castiel started to smile, and carried on smiling down at his cereal.

“How can you ‘do’ someone?” Jack asked, squinting. “Cas, did you kill someone?”

Dean laughed to himself, while Castiel shook his head, blushing.

Sam smiled, glad Dean was so happy. If anything, Castiel looked even happier.

“Um, Dean and I,” Castiel said, smiling at Jack. “We, um. We tried... um. And succeeded, I suppose—”

Jack didn’t look any less perplexed.

“We were intimate,” Castiel said, eyes down.

Dean’s ears had turned pinker than his cereal milk. His eyes skipped along the table, then rose to meet Sam’s.

Sam smiled softly. He’d already dealt with his surprise between closing Dean’s door and now.

Dean raised his eyebrows, having expected something louder than an accepting smile. “Oh.”

“By ‘intimate’,” Jack said, frowning, “do you mean—”

“Sex, Jack, he means sex,” Dean blurted, eyeing Jack’s bowl. “We had sex. Everything make sense? Need us to draw you a diagram?”

Jack blinked. “Um.” He looked at Castiel, then leaned forward, asking, secretively, “Is he actually offering to draw a diagram?”

Castiel chuckled, shaking his head. “He was joking. But rest assured, the experience was as bizarre and physically overwhelming as one might imagine.”

Jack sank back, halfway between baffled and content. Thoughtfully, he scooped up some more cereal and ate it.

“What about you,” Dean intoned, looking carefully at Sam. “You need a list of wherefores and why-nows and a PowerPoint presentation of potential risks and hazards, moving forward?”

Sam laughed breathily, shaking his head. “No! No, come on.” He grinned at his brother. “Just tell me you were safe.”

“Eh. Safe enough.”

“Dean would never be anything but safe with me,” Castiel said, mildly affronted.

“That wasn’t what he meant—” Dean cut himself short, then laughed. He rolled his eyes, and nudged his shoulder to Castiel’s. “Thanks, bud.”

“You’re welcome,” Castiel said warmly.

Dean gazed back, wearing that familiarly dopey, adoring smile on his sugared lips. But this time, unlike every other time, he actually did what Sam knew he was thinking of doing, and leaned in, shutting his eyes to kiss Cas.

Castiel kissed back, one hand holding Dean’s jaw.

Sam glanced at Jack, and saw Jack was grinning widely. Jack glanced back at Sam and leaned in to whisper, “I didn’t know they were allowed to do that.”

Castiel smiled too much, and the kiss broke. Dean’s eyes were sparkling, and he turned back to his almost-finished cereal, beaming. Castiel carried on staring at him, cereal forgotten, fingers poised around his spoon.

Dean wound the measuring tape around his finger, coiling it until it was only an inch across. Castiel came up behind him, kissing his neck, then taking the tape measure into his own hand.

“Does this only measure in inches?” he asked, unravelling it a bit.

“There’s centimetres on the back,” Dean said, going to the bed, tugging at the sheets to neaten them, then putting the pillows back where they were meant to be. The top blanket had been put in the laundry, and the pillowcases had been changed.

“Does it measure love?” Castiel uttered sweetly.

Dean peered over his shoulder, at first stumped, then entertained. “Uh-huh,” he said, turning away from the bed and sauntering up to Castiel, pressing their crotches together, hands taking Cas’ hips in a comforting grip. “Six-and-a-half inches of pure guy-love. Or six inches, thereabouts. Add an inch if you’re in the mood. Me, I’m a shower, pretty sure you’re a grower. You definitely looked bigger before.”

“No, I mean,” Castiel pressed one end of the tape measure to his heart, then stretched it the distance from his to Dean’s, “does it... measure how much I love you?”

Dean grinned. “Ahhhh. Damn. That’s, like, the one thing it can’t measure.”

“Well, then,” Castiel said, tossing it aside onto the bed, then taking Dean’s waist in both arms, hugging him close, eyes on his lips as their noses touched, “I suppose I’d better just tell you.”

Dean squirmed, murmuring, “Ooh,” shimmying his shoulders excitedly.

Castiel laughed, head down. “Saying I love you to the moon and back seems inadequate.”

“Pff, yeah, tell me about it,” Dean said. “Purgatory and back?”

“Hell and back. ‘Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt’, as they say.”

Dean chuckled at that. “How about, uhh. From Heaven, to Hell, to Purgatory, to the Empty, and then back.”

Castiel nodded. “I suppose the defining thing is the coming back.”

Dean pursed his lips in agreement, then snuck close, and gave Cas a long, tender kiss, smiling all the way through it.

Dean lay down in his bed – their bed now – staring at Cas, as Cas stared back.

“So this is it, huh?” Dean smiled, embarrassed to be studied like that. “You gonna watch over me?”

“Yes.”

Dean snuggled down under the sheets, biting his lip and grinning. “Is this really hot for you?”

Castiel rolled a shoulder, head propped up on one hand, lying in bed beside Dean. “It’s something I enjoy more with you than anyone else.”

Dean took that as a yes. “Wake me up if you get a boner.”

Castiel’s brows wrinkled.

“Just saying, okay!” Dean snorted. In a small voice, he said, “I’d wanna see.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, then leaned over Dean’s body, pressing his chest to his face as he reached to turn the lamp off. The lampshade was lopsided now, as it had been knocked into the wall earlier. Thankfully it had only made a crashing noise, but didn’t actually break.

Now in a comfortable darkness, Dean squirmed to be closer to Castiel.

“Oh, dear,” Castiel said, deadpan. “Are we going to have to measure out each half of the bed?”

Dean whacked Castiel’s chest. “I’m cuddling you, Cas!”

Castiel laughed, wrapping his arms around Dean. “I know. I’m just teasing.”

“Okay, good,” Dean grumped. “You freaked me out for a second there. If you didn’t like sex or cuddling, we’d kind of have a problem. What’re we gonna do, go around patting each other’s shoulders like it’s the most action we’re gonna see in a month?”

“I do believe we did that for ten years.”

“Yeah, and I’m sick of it.”

Castiel went quiet for a bit, resting his chin on Dean’s chest.

Then, “Dean?”

“Yah.” Dean scrunched a handful of Castiel’s still-damp hair, then stroked it back.

“What if I never like sex?”

“You did like it, though.”

“Yeah... but not like you did.”

“Does that matter?” Dean stroked Castiel’s ear, which tingled. “I’m not into the watching-me-sleep thing the way you are, doesn’t mean it’s not still naughty. Or fun. Y’know? I’m just happy you like it.” After a second he added, “But if you don’t wanna fuck again, that’s okay, you know? We can figure it out.”

“I do want to,” Castiel said. “I think. Maybe a different way next time.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” He grinned to himself, and suggested, hopefully, “Never know, Cas, you might just be more into topping.”

“Thank goodness I like cuddling,” Castiel remarked, making Dean bark out a laugh.

“Can say that again,” Dean chuckled, moving to smack a kiss on Castiel’s cheek.

They went quiet again.

Five minutes...

Then Dean exclaimed, “You can’t measure love in numbers, Cas!”

Castiel grinned. “I know.”

“Measure it in what you’re willing to do for the other person,” Dean suggested. “What you’re willing to try just because they ask. Measure it in how happy they make you.”

“And?” Castiel traced a line up Dean’s chest, bouncing his fingertip on his chin. “How happy do I make you?”

“Incalculably,” Dean said, with a smile.

“Is that a lot?”

“The most. Like, a horrific amount.”

Castiel shook his head. “No such thing as too much lubrication, right? No such thing as too much love, either. At least not from where I’m standing.”

“Lying down.”

“Prostrate at your side; indeed.”

Dean snuggled ever-closer, pressing a kiss to whatever part of Cas was in range, which happened to be just below his left eyelid. Castiel’s lashes fluttered, ticking Dean’s nose. Dean snuffled.

“And – ugh – you know what?” Dean realised. “I am easily satisfied. God. Every time I spend an hour tryna get myself off, or rearranging my drawers to fill up the space, or making the bed and thinking maybe I used the wrong sheets ‘cause it doesn’t look right— Dammit, Cas—”

“You were missing me?”

“I was missing you.” Dean sulked, hugging Cas tighter. “I don’t have fussy interests, I’m not high-maintenance, I’m not crazy for buying so many clothes. I just had a very specific craving that wasn’t being met. God-dammit.”

“Mm,” Castiel said warily. “I saw how many different scented bottles you kept in the shower. I think you are definitely... not low-maintenance.”

“Either way,” Dean said, ignoring that quip, “half the drawer space is yours.”

“Thank you.”

Dean kissed Castiel’s nose.

“Are you satisfied now?” Castiel asked.

Dean snorted. “Guess.”

Castiel squished his chin in his hand. “Say it.”

Dean chuckled. “I’m happy as can be, Cas. And I love you. And dude, put one of your big-ass thighs between mine, already, I wanna feel it as I sleep.”

Castiel did as he was told, delighted that he made Dean gasp and shiver in doing so.

“Oh-ho,” Castiel remarked. “So that’s what the bowlegs are for. Nature does provide.”

Dean threw his head back laughing, pushing a hand into Castiel’s face. They bickered and squabbled and batted at each other, but ended up cuddling again, Castiel wrapped against Dean’s back, kissing his neck, his thigh comfortably tucked between Dean’s legs.

Dean muttered, “G’night, Cas. Love you. To the Empty n’ back.”

Castiel just kissed him in response.

Jody opened her laptop bright and early, and logged into her email. There was a brand-new message about yesterday’s musca larvae from Castiel at the top of her inbox, and she opened it to read.

She began to frown, concentrating, nodding as she took in his findings – then smiled bemusedly when she reached the end. She leaned back in her chair, and called to Claire and Alex, who came up to her, still eating their breakfast toast and dropping crumbs.

“Plates! Plates! Who raised you?!” Jody tutted, but she shook her head and angled the laptop towards them.

They read, and also smiled when they got to the end.

“P.S.,” Claire read aloud, “Dean says it’s a testament to his love that he’s letting me send this photo. (He also said it was ‘cute’, and I think that’s the real reason.) We all measure love in different ways. How do you measure yours?”

Attached to the email was a photo, which Jody showed the girls. Alex laughed, while Claire stood back, hand on her hip, grinning widely.

“That is cute,” Claire said. “Dean looks like he just woke up.”

“Yeah,” Alex chuckled. “And if he just woke up...”

“Cas was there all night,” Jody said proudly. “Aw.”

“Did you send it?” Dean asked, still bleary-eyed, ruffle-haired, lying with his head on Castiel’s thigh. He stroked said thigh, growing fonder of it by the minute.

“I sent it,” Castiel smiled, folding up the laptop and setting it aside. He threaded his fingers through Dean’s hair, making him smile. “I can’t believe you let me do that.”

Dean shrugged. “Me neither. I feel... different.”

“Different how?”

“Like... I dunno. Happy.” Dean huffed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happy before.”

Castiel chuckled, petting Dean the way he liked. He too was experiencing a level of joy and contentment he’d never experienced, not as an angel, nor in his human form. But he was afraid to say it aloud, because that was when the Empty would come, stealing him away for an eternity in darkness. That’s what it promised, and Castiel knew it would keep its word.

But he looked down at Dean, and found he was not afraid.

Say it.

“To the Empty and back, yes?” Castiel asked. “You’ll come rescue me? And you’ll bring me home safe, no matter what it takes?”

Dean looked up. “Yeah? What d’ya mean? Why do you say it like that?”

Say it, said Dean’s voice in Castiel’s head.

Say it.

SAY IT!

Castiel smiled, and said, with confidence: “I’m happy.”

To the Empty and back...

The defining thing was the coming back. Being happy and together, afterwards.

They both kept their word.