Archive of Our Own ^beta

Morning dew saturated the air. It was chilly. Goosebumps pepper Dean’s skin despite the warmth of the trenchcoat. Dean’s eyes were closed, but he recognized the feel of Bobby’s guest mattress against his body. He lay face down on top of the duvet, nose planted firmly into the pillows, his palms flat under him. He’s alone.

Figures.

Dean remembers falling asleep in Castiel’s arms. His cheek rested on the Angel’s broad chest as he dozed. The absolute comfort and safety that resonated within him while in Cas’s hold. He doesn’t recall arriving at Bobby’s. He’s pretty sure he’d remember the lecture he’s owed about not paying attention to his cycles, or taking his suppresents, or yadda, yadda, yadda.

Shit, that means he wasn’t awake when they rolled into the salvage yard. Which also means that Bobby probably met them at the car and saw him all messed up and unconscious in Cas’s lap.

How did he even make it up the stairs to Bobby’s guest room? There’s no way he could’ve walked on his own.

The realization has Dean sucking in a sharp breath.

Dean’s got a theory. No, there’s no way. Cas wouldn’t.

But what if he did?

The image is there. Castiel, strong and unfazed, slides Dean out of the car and into his arms. One hand holding him close, the other hooked under his legs. He carries his unconscious body bridal style over the threshold. Sure, deliberate strides through the house and up the stairs, where he lays Dean on the bed like a Disney Princess. The beige trench coat plays the part of a dress.

Dean groans. Shoves his face a little harder into the pillow.

Bullet meet Brain. Brain, Bullet.

First Sam and now Bobby.

Fuck, Sam.

He was totally in the car when Dean propositioned Cas like forty times! He’s never gonna be able to show his face again. He’ll have to fumigate the car. Unless he leaked on the seats, in that case, the scent will be too saturated to come out. Oh god, who is he kidding? He was spilling all over the place. Of course, he leaked on the seats! Well, that’s great; he’ll just have to rip out the vinyl and dispose of it. Start from scratch somewhere far, far away from Sioux Falls with a new name like Ken Adams or something. He doesn’t even care where he goes as long as no one recognizes him as the guy who came on to an Angel of the Lord in front of his little brother.

“I would prefer it if you did not change your name. I’ve grown fond of Dean Winchester.”

Dean sits up onto his elbows. Over his shoulder, he can see Castiel. He’s seated on one of Bobby’s dining room chairs, facing the bed like some kind of creeper.

“I am not a ‘creeper,’ Dean. I promised to watch over you while you slept. And I did.”

“Stop reading my thoughts. It’s weird.” Dean rolls onto his back and plops down again on the pillow. The ceiling is flaking. An unpopped bubble in the paint hangs above the door frame. Bobby’s had some water damage. Dean needs to inspect the paneling on his roof; maybe he can re-tile it while he’s here.

Dean rubs at his eyes. His head is pounding. Dean tries to think back to his shitty American sex-ed. Heat typically lasts three to seven days, depending on the person. He knows that there are periods of lucidness within that timeframe. Something about allowing the Omega to tend to their more mundane needs, like pissing. Dean’s whole body aches. The sweat and slick from last night have left his clothes damp and sticky, even though he’s not feeling feverish. He smacks his lips, swallowing around a dry lump in his throat. He’s still kinda horny, but not all-consuming. It’s more on the back burner, overshadowed by the thought of a good cheeseburger.

Yup, he’s lucid.

“I could have Sam get you a cheeseburger. Or perhaps Robert will be kind enough to allow us to use his kitchen.”

“Okay,” Dean lifts himself up again to lean on the headboard. The trenchcoat falls open as he moves, leaving his bare stomach exposed. For some reason, it doesn’t seem to bother him. “Seriously?”

“Of course, sustenance is essential to–”

“No. I mean– One,” Dean holds up a finger, “his name is Bobby, not Robert. Do not call him that. It’s weird. And Two,” a second finger joins the first, “I already told you to stop reading my thoughts, Cas. It’s…invasive.”

“Invasive.” Cas’s lips form a line around the word. Displeased.

Good boy.

Guess that ship has sailed.

“Yeah. Invasive. I don’t like it, okay. Private thoughts are private for a reason.”

Castiel considers this line of reasoning, head tilting to one side. “So, a cheeseburger is a private thought?”

“No!” Dean knocks the back of his skull on the headboard. “Listen, it’s not about the cheeseburger, Cas. What if I were thinking something stupid or– or embarrassing? Humans, we need to be able to keep that shit to ourselves.”

Castiel straightens. Nods. “I understand. I will refrain from reading your mind in the future.”

“Cool. Perfect. Thank you.” Dean slides down the frame, too exhausted to hold himself up anymore, when another thought comes to him. “And Cas, this applies to all Humans.”

If Cas’s face were a noise, it would be a grumble.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean laughs. “But I’m serious, not just me, okay? All 6 billion of us don’t like our minds read. Capiche?”

“I capiche.”

“Awesome.”

Silence spreads into the room. Dean was disappointed when he woke up alone in bed, thinking Cas had reneged on his promise, but he stayed. He had probably sat in that chair all night, keeping the nightmares at bay.

Dean’s grateful. Despite the heat, last night had been the best sleep he’s had post-Hell. He wants to say something. He should say something.

“Cas, I–”

Just then, the bedroom door bursts open. Sam fills the quiet with his heavy breaths and stomping feet as if he had just come from a marathon. He looks like he hasn’t slept all night. His hair is mussed but not from a pillow. More like when someone runs their fingers through their hair over and over again. He’s got great purple half moons under his eyes and a large turquoise thermos filled with coffee. If Dean had to guess, he’d say it was more zero-sugar sweetener than anything else.

Sam looks completely relieved when he catches sight of Dean. “You’re awake! How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Water?”

Dean opens his mouth to answer and chokes on the strange scent permeating the air. It’s Sam’s cedar, sure, but it’s been set on fire. The wild smoke coming off his brother is a mix of pure worry and rage.

Dean’s little coughing fit throws Sam further into a spiral. He steps between Dean and Castiel. His stance changes from tired to protective, his wide shoulders shielding Dean from the Angel.

Act 2, Enter Sammy playing the role of the Knight in Shining Flannel.

Castiel? The Dragon.

“You can leave now, Castiel.”

“Sammy,” Dean protests. He hoists himself to a sitting position. Gives a tug on Sam’s sleeve.

This was the wrong move. Sam must interpret it as a plea for help because he grips Dean’s wrist, all bruising force and claws, and growls at Castiel.
Dean can count the number of people Sam has growled at on one hand. Even with the stress of hunting, Sam has never relied on his baser instincts like this…

Sam’s back is towards Dean, but it’s safe to assume the hazel in his eyes has been overpowered by Alpha red. Dean isn’t sure what to do. When Sammy fought with Dad, Dean could pull him back with a word. If things were really outta hand, a touch. Dean’s already tried both.

Cas rises from his chair. He’s a hell of a lot shorter than Sam, but the glare is enough to level any giant. And, no offense to Cas, but he needs to sit his ass back down because Sam will seriously fuck him up right now.

“I will leave when Dean requests it.”

“I’m done entertaining you!” Sam snarls. “He’s up. You were here. Promise fulfilled.”

Dean’s horrified when the punch lands. Castiel takes a physical step back, bumping into the chair. There’s no way Sam hit him that hard.

Dean’s still trapped in Sam’s grip, but he jumps up to separate them. He hasn’t actually used his legs since before that doomed road trip, so it’s no surprise when his knees buckle. He tries to catch himself but ends up twisting around, falling backwards into Cas. The Angel catches him without a second thought, hooking him by his armpits. Dean is about to thank him when he’s yanked forward. Dean winces as blood blooms from where Sam’s claws have broken skin.

The hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stand on end as the scent of the room changes. The cedar fire is overwhelmed by a flash flood. He can feel the charge of electricity radiating off of Castiel. The power hidden underneath the surface of his skin.

Dean is reminded that Castiel isn’t entirely human.

They’re going to kill each other.

“Stop!”

Dean remembers the last time Sam fought with Dad. It had been like this. Sam, claws ready and teeth bared, had finally had enough of his bullshit.

And Dad didn’t back down.

“You think you can take me, boy?”

Dean had gotten in between them, too, and John had backhanded him so hard that he had fallen to the motel floor.

“Stay outta this, Dean. The Alphas are talking.”

Sam had been positively murderous. He begged Dean to leave with him. Told him he didn’t deserve to be treated like a second-class citizen, but Dean couldn’t do it. He’d let Sam walk out alone. They hadn’t spoken for years after that, not till Dad went missing.

“Stop, please, stop. Please, stop.” Dean can’t help the mantra that falls from his lips.

He’s holding a rag to his bloody lip. His left eye was swollen shut from the sting of his father’s wedding ring. Tears stream down his cheeks, but Dean is silent. Good Omegas take their punishment without complaint. He should be thanking his Alpha for correcting him. He had stepped out of line by interfering with Alpha business.

It’s not his place.

“What the hell is going on up here?”

Bobby’s neutral scent is a haven in the jungle of emotions being aired out all over the place. Dean lunges for him, seeking out comfort from someone with no chance of going Alpha on him. Sam’s grip loosens, but his claws are still deep in the flesh.

Flesh. Blood.

Bobby rushes to meet Dean, curling a protective hand on his back.

“Really? You idjits think it’s a good idea to have this pissing contest now while Dean’s still in the middle of his heat?” Bobby’s nose isn’t as good as the rest of them, being a Beta and all, but blood is potent. Dean knows the moment he’s spotted the wound on his arm because he grabs Sam by the hair, pulling him down so they’re on equal footing.

“Samuel, you need to let Dean go.”

Sam growls. It’s a new record.

“Don’t you growl at me, boy!” Bobby twists the lock of auburn hair a little harder, earning him a yelp. “Have you even noticed you’re hurting him?”

Alpha red flickers back to hazel as Sam’s claws finally release. He looks like he might cry. Bobby lets go of the fistful of hair.

Turning his attention back to Dean, Bobby asks, “Have you eaten, son?”

Dean shakes his head.

“Water, at least?”

“No.”

Bobby humphs.

“All these Alphas fighting over you and ain’t one of ’em the sense to make sure you’re taken care of.”

Sam’s rubbing his arm, eyes downcast in shame. Castiel simply narrows his.

“Isn’t this a little beneath you, Castiel?” Bobby points a finger at Cas. Bobby hasn’t interacted with him since their stunt at the barn. As far as he’s concerned, Cas is the angelic douchebag who burned out Pamela’s eyes. He doesn’t know him as well as Dean does. Neither of them does. “And I know you are better than this.” The finger slides over to Sam. He lowers his head.

“I’m taking Dean downstairs for some chow, and while we’re gone, you two are gonna calm down. Don’t even think about leaving this room till you stop smelling like knotheads. Then we’re gonna have a nice, civil discussion about how Dean wants to ride the rest of this thing out. And if that’s with blue eyes over here, then you’re gonna have to respect that, Sam. You might be Dean’s family Alpha, but you’re not his Alpha. So if Dean wants you to sit this out. You. Sit. It. Out.

“Am I clear?”

Sam gives a half-hearted ‘yea’ and flops down onto the edge of the bed, clearly embarrassed and well-chastised.

Castiel doesn’t answer.

“I said, am I clear?” Bobby turns to face Cas. Dean doesn’t know if Cas will answer him, but it’s in everyone’s best interest if he does. Cas’s eyes flick to Dean’s. Meet. Dean knows he’s asking if he should respond. Dean nods.

“Yes. You are clear.”

“Good. C’mere, son, let’s get you in some real clothes.”

Bobby guides him out of the room and down the hall into the restroom. Dean sits numbly on the wooden toilet lid while Bobby cleans and dresses his wound. When he’s satisfied, Bobby leaves him there to hunt down some clothes.

Dean wonders if he should take a shower. He feels dirty, and the hot water would be a welcome sensation on his aching body. He moves to stand, but the world tilts. Dean manages to catch himself on the sink before he smashes his head into the tile. Okay, so maybe he needs to eat first.

Bobby returns with Alpha-style boxers, a pair of worn jeans, and Dean’s favorite green Henley. He hands Dean the folded clothes, reassuring him in his gruff voice that Dean’s come to associate with fatherhood, that it’s okay if Dean needs help dressing. Dean wishes he could take Bobby up on his offer, but his ego couldn’t handle the blow. He declines with a sharp shake of his head.

Bobby’s smile is hesitant and quickly turns to a downward line, but he nods and steps out to let Dean change.

It takes a little clever maneuvering, but Dean manages to get the clothes on without standing. He hides his soiled boxers in the leg of his old jeans and folds them up so there’s no chance of them falling out. He tosses them both in the bathtub as a reminder that they need to be washed.

Dean’s not sure if he should leave the trenchcoat. It’s not dirty like the others. It’s also not his. Does he give it back to Cas or put it back on as if it’s no big deal?

He can’t seem to make up his mind, so he folds it over his arm. Dean calls for Bobby to let him know he’s finished and is escorted down the stairs.

Bobby doesn’t say anything about the trenchcoat, just gently lowers Dean onto a chair. Dean likes that about Bobby. He doesn’t dwell on the little shit like Sammy. If it’s important, he’ll ask, but the trench coat? Cas? It’s not important right now. Dean knows that once he’s eaten and hydrated, Bobby will tear him a new one. He’ll ask about the Angel upstairs and why Dean can’t seem to let go of this coat, which smells so strongly of this new stranger. But right now, Bobby will ignore it.

Bobby places a tall glass of water in front of him as well as some round pills Dean recognizes as ibuprofen. Dean pops the pills and washes them down with as much water as he can. He’s surprised to learn he’s finished the glass and is rewarded with an identical full one. This time, Dean sips at the top, not wanting to overwhelm his empty stomach.

Bobby gets to work quietly. Bacon sizzles away on the stove as he moves around the kitchen. He piles cheese and sliced fruit in front of Dean to munch on while he waits. Dean nibbles on a strawberry between sips of water. It’s nice to be waited on for once.

Castiel is the first one to join them in the kitchen. The rush of air disclosed that he couldn’t be bothered to walk down the stairs. At first, he just stands awkwardly by the door frame, unmoving and silent, watching Dean snack on his impromptu charcuterie. Dean had spread the coat over his legs like a blanket, holding it tightly as if it would fall with the slightest bounce of his foot. He can’t help feeling self-conscious about his actions. He doesn’t want Cas to think he’s some baby with a comfort object, but he also dreads parting with the garment.

Eventually, Cas pulls up a chair next to Dean. He sits so close that his knee brushes Dean’s under the table. He smells calmer now. The electricity is gone, replaced with that same morning dew from earlier.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior.”

Bobby doesn’t stop chopping onions for Dean’s omelette. He must assume Cas is talking to Dean.

“I am ashamed to say that I allowed my Alpha nature to cloud my actions.”

Dean thought Cas had been pretty tame. Sammy, on the other hand…

“If you can forgive me, Dean, I would be honored to help you through your heat.”

Oh, he is talking to Dean.

Dean stops his snacking. Cas isn’t looking at him. His hands are folded in his lap, head lowered, waiting for his sentence.

Bobby has gone awfully still in the kitchen. He won’t butt in unless Dean asks.

Dean’s silence must go on too long because Cas begins to stand.

“Sam was right. I should go. I apologize for crossing this line. I understand this is a gross intrusion on your personal space. I–”

Dean panics. He whines, high and needy. His fingers pull back on his collar to expose his mating gland. He lets his head drop to one side, baring his neck for Cas. Dean’s always had trouble with his words, but biology has given him a loophole. The message is loud and clear: Stay.

Burnt eggs fill the space, and Bobby cusses, spinning away to deal with the forgotten breakfast.

“Dean.” Cas reaches a hand out, trails a finger down the length of Dean’s neck, lingers over the space his bite would go. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

He’s really going to make him say it.

Dean hums, “Yeah, jackass. S’all good.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas pulls away, retakes his seat.

The slight grin on Cas’s face is new. His lips are peeled back, trembling slightly in an attempt to keep his composure. No matter how hard he tries to look stoic and unaffected by Dean’s gesture, his smell gives him away. Warm rain during a spring day, a soft floral scent Dean hadn’t noticed before seeping from his pores. He can practically see the rainbow framing Cas’s dark hair.

Bobby drops the burnt omelette on the table with a clatter. A pile of bacon joins it moments later.

Dean’s feeling a lot better now. He digs into the omelette without complaint. Sure, it’s a little blackened around the edges, but Bobby makes the best breakfast. Onions, red peppers, and cheese. And his secret ingredient: love. He’ll never say it. Not till he’s on his deathbed, but Dean can taste it in his food. He sees it in the way his guest bedrooms seem to be Sam and Dean’s bedrooms. The bookshelves were mysteriously filled with their favorite novels. Bobby always has snacks Dean can’t resist and frozen fruit in the freezer for Sam.

You can’t get that at a diner.

Bobby stares at Castiel as he takes the only unoccupied seat. Bobby’s been doing research on the angels for them. He knows more than Sam and Dean ever will. He’ll definitely have an opinion on Cas helping Dean with his heat.

Thankfully, Bobby waits until Dean is finished with all his food. It doesn’t take long. Turns out Dean was starving. He practically inhaled the spread.

Dean barely swallowed the last strip of bacon when Sam descended the stairs. He’s carrying the dining chair that was in the guest bedroom. He sets it down between Dean and Bobby, backwards. His floppy hair hides his face as he rests his chin on the backboard. Sulking.

“Perfect timing, Sam.” Bobby takes a sip from a coffee mug Dean didn’t know he was holding. “We’re just about ready to start.”

“First, some ground rules. No more of this Alpha posturing nonsense. It’s immature and, frankly, unattractive.” The last word is directed towards Cas.

“We’re also gonna use our words. No growls,” This is directed at Sam, who humphs in response. “Or whines,” That one’s for Dean. “Or any other vague noises.”

“Finally,” Bobby punctuates it with a large gulp of coffee, and- is that vodka? “Whatever we decide on, ultimately this is Dean’s heat, so he’ll have final say. The rest of us are just gonna have to respect that. If you don’t like it, there’s the door.”

“Dean?” Bobby gestures towards him with the mug. “Would you like to start?”

Would he like to start? Hell no, he wouldn’t like to start. Where does he even begin?

Dean shakes his head.

“Words, Dean.”

“No, sir.”

“Fine then, I’ll start. I don’t think it’s a good idea to have Castiel help you through your heat.”

Wow, straight to the point.

“You’re not on any birth control. The odds of you getting pregnant are sky high, Dean. Especially with an Alpha involved.”

Dean puts a hand to his stomach. It’s mostly flat, but Dean’s always had a bit of pudge there, whether it’s from his womb or all the junk he eats doesn’t matter. He hadn’t thought about that. The whole reason he’s having a heat is because all of his fail-safes were magically wiped from his system. Bobby’s right. There’s a very good chance Dean will walk away from this pregnant.

A shiver runs through Dean at the thought. Carrying Cas’s pups isn’t something Dean would normally consider, but it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. He’s always wanted kids. Plus Dean’s thirty. He’s coming to the end of his fertility. It might be now or never for him.

“Not to mention, Castiel ain’t human. Any pregnancy resulting from this would be angelic in nature. We run the risk of a nephilim.”

Castiel’s chair scrapes loudly across the wooden floor as he shoots up.

“Bobby is correct. A nephilim is not something to be treated lightly.” Castiel kneels down to take Dean’s hand from his stomach. He sandwiches it between both of his. His eyes are haunted as he speaks, remembering something from lifetimes ago, “If I sire any children with you, Heaven will send an elite squadron to dispose of them. I, myself, have been recruited on such missions in the past.”

“It is a grievous sin to conceive a nephilim, Dean. I fear Heaven may cease its search for the seals in favor of destroying them. Surely, Hell would send its own legions to acquire the nephilim. They are quite powerful.”

Castiel stops. His eyes fall closed as he takes a deep breath.

“I don’t think I could sit idly while they slaughter our children, Dean.”

He squeezes Dean’s hand hard enough to break bones.

“I don’t know if I could stand against Heaven either.”

Castiel bows his head and raises Dean’s hand to his forehead.

“Do not ask me to.”

They can never have children. It’s just Dean’s luck that his pups would be hunted down and murdered.

It’s not like it matters. Kids were never in the cards for him.

“I won’t.” Dean rakes his fingers through Cas’s messy hair, urging him to look up. “Hey, it’s okay. I don’t want kids anyway.”

That gets Cas’s attention.

He tilts his head up to peer at Dean through thick lashes.

“That’s not true.”

“Sure it is.” Dean plays with the loose strands above Cas’s collar. Twisting and pulling. This is the first time he’s ever done this. Despite its constant dishevelment, his hair is surprisingly soft. “I’m busy enough as it is with Sammy and, ya know, the Apocalypse. There’s no time for pups.”

They sit there for a long time. Neither speaking, simply taking in what the other has said. Finally, Cas nods, pulls away, and sits back in his discarded chair. Bobby is watching them closely, and yeah, it definitely feels a little fast to be discussing kids with a guy you met two months ago, but sue him, Dean suspects he’ll be in this one for the long haul.

To Dean’s surprise, Castiel isn’t done. His head is high, jaw set. With an unwavering voice, he addresses the table, “I would still like to offer my services.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam’s words are sharp. “After all that shit, you’re just going to knock him up anyway?”

“No, Sam.” The weary way Cas answers has Dean imagining he was speaking to a petulant pup. But not their pup. Never their pup.

“That would be counter-intuitive. As long as Dean and I abstain from penetrative sex,” Dean whips his head to look at Cas. He did not just say that in front of his brother and pseudo-father. “There is no chance of my impregnating him. I was offering to perform other acts such as fellatio or cunnilingus to ensure Dean is satisfied without a knot.”

And just like that, Dean’s back to actually killing himself.

It’s not a bad idea. In fact, Dean’s actually totally down for it. He seems tame right now, but he is still at the beginning of his heat. Actually, their allotted time might be up because somebody got a little excited thinking about Cas’s hot tongue swirling around the head of his– Okay!

And that’s precisely the problem. He doesn’t want Bobby thinking about Cas performing fellatio on him.

“Oh my god!” Dean covers his face with his hands and groans as he slides under the table. He can not be perceived right now. “Could you not?!” Dean’s muffled shout is barely heard over Bobby’s raucous laughter.

Dean’s absolutely mortified. And to make matters worse, his fever is spiking again. He can feel himself grow hotter from both the embarrassment and the all-consuming need of a knot in his ass.

His scent changes. Sweet Apple liquor begging to be sampled, pumping into the air. Dean’s so glad he’s hiding under the table.

“That’s our cue, Sam.” Bobby slams back the last of his spiked coffee. “You really want Castiel with you, Dean?”

Dean mumbles a ‘yessir’ from under the table.

“Then it’s settled. I’ve said my piece, and Castiel’s laid out a solid plan. If you need us, don’t.”

With that, Bobby drags a cursing Sam out the back door by his ear. Bobby’ll probably have Sam do the yard work while he balances the books from his work shed.

Dean doesn’t leave his hidey hole under the table. He’ll just curl up and die now, thank you. He knows he should come out and get himself together before the heat turns him into a total slut, but he can’t seem to find the strength to move.

Above him, Castiel magics all the chairs out from the table and sinks to his knees for the second time today.

Dean is curled up in the trenchcoat, nose pressed firmly into the fabric. He doesn’t look up.

“We have some time before you’re fully under.” Castiel lays a hand on Dean’s head, slowly moves down to his neck, and back up again. The petting motion is unusual but not unwanted. Dean hums to show he’s listening to Cas even if he won’t meet his eye.

“I believe you expressed a desire to shower earlier. If you want, I could draw you a bath.”

A bath sounds amazing. Dean still feels dirty despite the change of clothes. Dried slick had flaked off his thighs when he changed pants, and Dean would love to get that off his skin. Plus, he smells.

“Yeah, okay.” Dean’s loving the attention right now, but nothing beats a good bath.

“Okay.” Castiel continues petting him, lingering longer on the back of his neck, putting more time in between each stroke until it ceases altogether. Dean’s disappointed, but he doesn’t whine at the loss. Clever. “Would you like to stay here until it’s ready?”

Ah, he’s worried about him. Dean appreciates the sentiment, but his hidey hole has served its purpose. There’s no use staying here any longer.

“Nah, let’s go.” He holds his hands out, effectively abandoning the trenchcoat, and Cas immediately gets the idea.

He steps up and sweeps him out from under the table in a single motion. It’s a little too fast for Dean since he’s still got some residual vertigo going on, but Cas has that covered, too. He pulls Dean flush against him and holds him there until he’s ready.

Dean’s tempted to forgo the bath and spread his ass on the table and serve Cas up one hell of a buffet. Dean’s been denied a knot, but he could still have fun with that tongue of Cas’s. Oh, yeah. Cas wouldn’t turn him down if he said he wanted him to spread his cheeks and eat him out right here. He’d have to. He’s under some kind of ‘Simon says’ when it comes to Dean.

Sammy will be grossed out, of course, but that’s a sacrifice Dean’s willing to make.

“Are you feeling unwell? Your pulse spiked.”

Dean shakes the thought from his head.

“S’fine. Just the Heat.” Dean pulls away and starts up the stairs, but Cas hasn’t moved. “Well? Let’s go, Romeo.”

“My name is Castiel. Are you sure you’re alright?”

That gets a laugh.

“I’m fine, Cas. I know your name isn’t Romeo. It’s a saying like ‘Romeo and Juliet’.”

“By William Shakespeare, I am familiar.”

“Yeah. It’s just something you call someone when they’re being romantic.”

“Why? If I recall correctly, the play ended with their premature deaths. Is dying young romantic?”

“No. I– Look, I don’t know why. Are you joining me in the tub or what?”

“Would it be romantic?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will join you.”

***

Yeah, there’s no way they’re fitting two grown ass men in this tub. Dean didn’t pay much attention to it earlier, too focused on changing without falling on his face, but this thing is barely gonna hold him, and his knees would definitely be sticking out of the water the whole time.

Dean doesn’t even have time to protest this clearly doomed idea before Castiel has gathered his discarded clothes and turned the water on.

Guess they’re doing this.

Dean rummages under Bobby’s sink, looking for bubbles or soap. He’ll even take a candle, but he doubts Bobby will have anything so girly.

In the back of the cabinet, Dean manages to score ocean-themed hand soap and an unused bar of Irish Spring. It’ll have to do.

He returns to Cas, who is still stooped over the tub, overseeing the temperature. Dean unscrews the lid of the hand soap and dumps the contents into the water. Bubbles immediately form under the stream of hot water and quickly fill the tub, threatening to spill over the side and onto the tile. So the whole bottle was a little much.

Cas gives him a look and returns to his very serious task of filling the tub.

When it’s well and truly full, Cas turns off the water and stands facing Dean.

“Undress.”

Don’t have to tell him twice.

Dean decides to have a little fun with it. He yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it behind him. He does a 180 so Castiel will get a face full of ass as he bends to untie his boots. He doesn’t know if Cas is looking, but he sure hopes so.

Boots and socks off, Dean turns back around to find that Cas is very much watching. His lips are parted slightly, and the bit of Alpha red leaking through has turned his irises a deep violet. Dean looks him in the eye as he pulls down the zipper of his jeans.

Taking a page from every exotic dancer Dean’s seen, he lifts one hip and slides the waistband down a bit to show off a sliver of skin. He repeats the motion on the other side so his jeans barely cover his junk. Dean turns again, making a wide circle with his hips as he slides both his jeans and boxers down his ass, letting them drop around his ankles. He steps out of them and, just for extra measure, bends down to pick them up. He hears an intake of breath behind him, followed by the intoxicating scent of ozone and petrichor.

Both the grin on Dean’s face and the slick rushing from his ass are involuntary.

When Dean turns around, his dick standing tall amongst dark curly hairs, he’s both ready and willing. He’s fully expecting to be ravished, but Cas doesn’t even glance at the family jewels, just offers him a hand.

Confused, Dean tosses the pants onto the toilet lid and takes it. Cas leads him to the edge of the tub and gestures for him to get in.

Sinking into the hot water feels amazing. His aching muscles seem to relax instantly, and he lets out a low moan of pleasure. Dean rests his arms on the rim and allows his head to fall back, eyes closing, as he relishes the simple joy of a good bath.

The bubbles overpower the previous scents, invoking an image of what Dean imagines the beach to be like. Salt water and ocean breeze. Fruity drinks with little umbrellas and toes in the sand. Dean’s always wanted to have a beach vacation.

Dean could fall asleep right now.

“Is the temperature alright?”

“Hmm, it’s perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear it. If you’re ready, I’ll begin by washing your hair.”

Dean lifts his head and peeks over the mountain of bubbles. Cas is fully dressed, sans trench coat, and sitting on his knees. “Wash my hair? You’re not getting in?”

Castiel chuckles and, boy, does Dean feel like an idiot.

“Maybe next time.”

“So there’s a next time?”

“If you’re good, there might be. Lean your head back.”

Dean does so, and Cas splashes water over his head, careful not to let it run down his face. Dean closes his eyes and listens to Cas pop off the top of the shampoo bottle.

“Sit up for me, Dean.”

Dean lifts up just enough so his hair isn’t in the water. Cas’s hands are soft and gentle as he works the shampoo into his scalp. The scrape of his nails feels heavenly after the week Dean’s had.

When he’s nice and lathered up, Cas directs his head backwards to rinse the product.

“I’m going to move on to your upper limbs.”

“My arms?”

“Yes.

“Jus’ say that then.”

“I’m going to move on to your arms.”

Dean feels Cas dip his hand into the water and then out again. Something drips into the water, and then a rush of water falls back into the tub. It reminds Dean of wringing out a soaked flannel.

He knows he’s not far off when a soapy cloth drapes over his arm. Castiel lightly scrubs at Dean’s forearm. It’s a little scratchy, but not bad. He moves up and down in circular motions. The handprint on Dean’s shoulder receives special attention. Castiel takes his time outlining the shape of his hand with the cloth. The mark forever branded onto Dean’s skin. The similarity to a mating bite is not lost on him.

Cas rinses the soap and lays Dean’s arm back onto the rim. He moves to repeat the process with Dean’s other arm, lifting it off its rest, when he pauses.

“Wha’s the matter?” Dean slurs. Wow, he must be really relaxed. He practically feels drunk on it. “Why’d you stop?”

“Sam injured you.”

Dean had forgotten about it. Bobby had already disinfected it and wrapped his arm in a sterile white gauze, so it’s not really on Dean’s mind. There’s nothing he can really do about it but keep it dry and let it heal.

Dean’s about to impart this wisdom on Cas, but he lifts the medical tape with curious fingers. The gauze peels off with it to reveal an oozy lesion, and Dean’s not gonna lie, it’s nasty. Sammy should clip his nails or something because it looks a little infected, even with Bobby’s tried-and-true treatment.

Cas lifts the ugly wound to his mouth and… he’s gonna fucking lick it, isn’t he?

Dean attempts to pull his hand back, but just like last night, Cas’s hold is stronger. There’s nothing he can do but watch as Cas presses closed lips to the open wound. A strange yet pleasant tingling sensation radiates from where Cas’s lips brush his skin. The cool stream flows through Dean’s veins, stitching flesh and tendons back together as it travels, ultimately pooling in his wrist. There’s a soft blue light emanating from Cas’s hooded eyes, and the same glow shines out from Dean’s hand. Milliseconds pass, and the light dims and diminishes into nothing with no evidence it had even existed.

Unfazed, Cas returns his hand and goes to dip his forgotten washcloth.

“Whoa.” Dean takes the opportunity to clench his fist and rotate his wrist. Feels good. He splays his fingers wide and wiggles them. No pain. Not even an itch. It’s healed. “Neat trick. Anything else up those sleeves?” Cas takes Dean’s newly healed hand back and finishes scrubbing.

“I don’t understand that phrase. However, if you mean do I have any other powers, then the answer is yes.” Castiel drags the washcloth across the top of Dean’s shoulders, dipping to include his collarbones as he sweeps to the other side.

“Gonna elaborate on that?”

“No.”

“C’mon, Cas!” Dean scoots back, his chest and stomach lifting out of the water, allowing his legs to take up the majority of the space. He rolls his shoulders as the cold air hits him. It’s a stark contrast to the warmth of the bath.

“This is important info. You can’t keep shit like this to yourself.” Castiel ignores him, taking advantage of Dean’s new position. He runs the soapy fabric over Dean’s chest. Even concealed by the washcloth, the feeling of Cas’s fingers brushing over his nipples is enough to get him excited. Dean’s still hard from the kitchen fantasy, so it doesn’t take a lot. He bites back a groan when Cas does it again. It could be a coincidence.

The third time the cloth swipes past, Dean knows it’s a calculated attempt to distract him.

He pushes forward.

“Having a healer could be real handy on a hunt.”

The cloth disappears under the water.

“This is not the time, Dean. Lean forward.”

Uh-uh. He’s not gonna just dismiss this.

“Why should I if you’re not going to answer my questions?”

Castiel takes a breath. Another.

“Do as you’re told, Dean.”

“Or what? You gonna leave me high and dry?” Dean lies back, allowing the bubbles to swallow his frame, effectively doing the opposite of ‘what he’s told’. “After what you said downstairs, I’d like to see you try.”

The challenge is not lost on Cas. Omegas tease their Alphas all the time. It’s a game. A show of strength. Dean is willing to do Cas’ bidding but only if he earns it first.

Castiel’s left eyebrow lifts. Oh yeah, Dean’s in for it now.

“I did agree to help you through your heat, and I intend to keep my word.” The washcloth is thrown over the rim to dry. “How much you enjoy this experience is up to you, Dean.”

Castiel grabs a fistful of Dean’s hair. It’s close enough to the root that it doesn’t hurt when Cas uses it to pull Dean up from his bubble haven.

Castiel’s eyes are narrow and stern, but that eyebrow is as high as ever. He moves in close, close enough to kiss, and then past Dean. His lips brush against his ear as he speaks low and breathy.

“If you continue to misbehave, you’ll be finishing this bath on your own.” Castiel’s grip on his hair tightens ever so slightly. “It would be a shame too.”

Long fingers wrap around the length of Dean’s cock. Dean can’t help but whimper as Cas gives an experimental tug.

“I was planning to treat my good boy to an orgasm before moving on to the bedroom, but if you’d prefer, I’d go…”

Both hands release Dean, and he sinks back into the tub. Castiel is standing by the door, those long fingers wrapped around the handle instead of Dean.

Why is he leaving? Did he do something wrong?

“Wait!” Dean scrambles up, leaning forward like his Alpha originally wanted. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good. Don’t go.”

Castiel doesn’t let go of the door, but he doesn’t open it either.

“I’m afraid I’ll need some convincing. Forgive me if your promise isn’t enough.” Castiel’s voice is cruel and calculating. How did Dean fuck it up? He thought they were having a good time.

Dean scents the air. It still smells like pleased Alpha. That doesn’t mean anything, though. Dad could control his scent. He often exuded opposite pheromones to hide his motives. His only sure tell was the stench of whiskey on his breath.

“Just tell me what to do, Cas.” Dean’s halfway out of the tub, dripping onto the tile. He doesn’t care if he soaks the whole bathroom; he’s not letting Cas walk out that door. “How can I prove it to you?”

The desperation coloring Dean’s voice must leak into his scent, because Cas sniffs the air. His mask flickers, confused, and is quickly covered again.

“Well…” Castiel lets go of the doorknob. Thank God. “If you’re really set on being my good boy…”

His Alpha is giving him a second chance.

“I think you should be able to say it.”

Did he miss something? Say what?

“Tell me, Dean. I want to hear you say it.”

Dean gulps. He’s nervous to ask for clarification, but he has no idea what

Cas is talking about.

“Say what?”

“That you’re my good boy, of course.” The smile on Cas’s face is positively evil.

A crooked smile shining in the dark.

“Cas…” Dean shakes his head. He’s not good. He’s a thief. A liar. A murderer.

He went to Hell for God’s sake. Good boys don’t wind up in Satan’s backyard.

“You wanted to prove it. Didn’t you, Dean?” Castiel is looming above him now. Powerful. Beautiful. Terrifying. “Are you my good boy, Dean?”

Dean nods.

Castiel bends to cup his face. His hands are cold against the blush in Dean’s cheeks. The white sleeves of his dress shirt cry, tears dripping onto Dean’s collarbone. Cas didn’t roll them up when he bathed him.

“Say it.”

“I’m-” Dean starts. His heart’s beating too fast. He wants to give his Alpha what he asks for, but the lie is caught in his throat.

He’s not a good boy. He’s rude and wrathful. He was a bad kid in school, and now he’s a worse man in life. He’ll die angry and alone and end up right back where Castiel found him.

Working the rack with Alastair guiding his knife.

“Yes?” Castiel prompts. He wipes a thumb under Dean’s eye.

“I-I-” Dean stutters. Swallows. “I can’t.”

“Mmm.” The smile is replaced by a thin line. “That’s too bad.”

Castiel pulls away, headed for the dreadful door once more. Dean feels like his heart has been ripped from his chest. He keens at the loss. Shrill and mournful.

Stale apples and fermented things fill the air to match the despair in Dean’s heart.

Castiel spins around on the toe of his boot. For a second, it appears he may slip due to the flooded tile, but he quickly rights himself. The calculated mask has completely fallen away, leaving an expression of confusion and concern.

For reasons Dean can only guess at, Castiel begins to unbutton his dress shirt.

What kind of sick game is this?

Does he wish to torture Dean for being unable to give him what he’s asked? Flaunting the body Dean has wanted nothing more than to touch since his heat began. Showing him what could have been if Dean hadn’t gone and fucked it all up.

Cas looks just as broad and muscular as he had felt in the car. He’s got a bit more of a Harrison Ford bod as opposed to Channing Tatum’s abs, but you won’t hear Dean complaining. There’s a mole over his left nipple that Dean could’ve licked if he’d just lied.

He lies professionally for fuck’s sake, and yet the one time it might actually get him laid, he chokes.

Cas discards his shirt in the same pile as Dean’s clothes and comes to kneel at the tub. The water Dean sent sloshing soaks into Castiel’s slacks, turning them an even darker shade of black.

“I have a request.” Dean shakes his head.

“I can’t, Cas.”

“No, not that. I underestimated the extent of your trauma.” He brushes a hand through the hair at Dean’s neck. “I thought we were still playing. I did not recognize when it shifted, and for that I apologize.”

“You got nothing to apologize for. I’m the screw up.”

“No, Dean. You are many things, but a ‘screw up’ is not one of them.”

“Pfft. Sure”

Castiel rises again. He swipes Dean’s pants off the toilet seat into the ever-growing pile of clothing and lays a towel where they once sat. Like Mary Poppins, Cas pulls a wide basin with a low lip out of thin air and places it at the foot of the toilet.

“Sit for me?”

Not wanting to disappoint him again, Dean wastes no time climbing out of the tub to sit on the fresh towel Cas has laid out for him.

Castiel finishes undressing till he is as naked as Dean. He is absolutely hung. It’s too bad Dean will never experience it.

Cas dips the basin in Dean’s bath water before replacing it in front of him.

“I would like to tell you a story.” Cas sinks to his knees, sitting back on his heels. Dean feels like he is towering over Cas from his porcelain throne.

Castiel guides Dean’s feet into the water.

“Power is a dangerous tool.” He trails up Dean’s legs before caressing downward, his fingers leaving streaks in Dean’s leg hair. “It commands respect. Humans look to those who have it with awe and wonder.”

He lifts Dean’s right foot and begins to rub it, starting from the top of his sole. Dean knew he would be into weird shit.

“With power, one could do many great things. You could lead nations, command vast armies.”

Castiel uses both thumbs to massage down the length of it. It’s actually kind of nice. Dean keeps a lot of stress in the bottom of his soles.

“But if used carelessly, power may easily become your enemy.”

Castiel dips a cupped hand into the water.

“It reveals your vices.” Castiel pours the water from his hand ceremonially over Dean’s foot. “Only a great man can see the dangers of power and refuse its call.”

Castiel wipes the excess water from Dean’s foot with his white dress shirt.

“My Brother was a great man. He understood that the power bestowed unto Him by Our Father would be His downfall.” Castiel moves to the right foot. “He knew that His power would cause others to be envious, to feel lesser than Him.”

He repeats the same dutiful massage on Dean’s other foot.

“He did not want to be greater than His fellow Man. So, He knelt before His disciples as I kneel before you, and cleansed their feet. Washing away their impurities. Their sins.”

He wipes the dress shirt on the underside of Dean’s foot.

“It was uncommon for anyone but a slave to wash another’s feet. By engaging in this act, He showed His humility and His respect. For His disciples were not lesser, but greater than He, despite His divine birth and power.”

Castiel sets the basin aside. Guides Dean’s feet to rest upon his bare thighs.

“You are the Righteous Man. You have been tempted with power and refused its siren song. An Angel, infinitely more divine, more powerful, kneels at your feet and has cleansed you as though a slave.”

Castiel rests his hands over the tops of Dean’s feet and looks up. Dean’s been staring at him this whole time, but now he looks away. Cas’s gaze is too intense. Hooded eyes peering straight into Dean’s soul, deciphering the words scrawled into his very being. Whatever Cas says next, he’s not ready for.

“Your father does not define you.”

Dean gasps and quickly recovers, slapping a hand over his mouth. He will not look.

“Hell does not define you.”

Tears blur his vision. He wipes them away. He will not look.

“What is your name?” Cas’s hands skate up Dean’s legs before coming to rest on his hips. Thumbs pressed between the meat of his thighs and the fold of his belly. The hard line of Cas’s dick presses into the space between his knees. He’s no longer sitting.

“Dean. Winchester.” Dean answers. Cas gives a squeeze, and his hands are moving again, raking over his stomach and chest.

“Who are you?”

Dean swallows, “The Righteous Man.”

Cas’s hands cup his jaw, turning Dean’s head to face him. He will not look.

“Open your eyes, Dean.”

He will not look.

“I want to see you.”

Fuck.

Dean looks.

Cas kneels before him, the perfect picture of subservience, despite running this joint.

His eyes are a deep red, but the color is swallowed by his dilated pupils. An endless black void greedily taking its fill of Dean.

Dean wants to be taken.

“What are you, Dean?”

Dean loves the way his lips move around his name. No one else says it like Cas does. He holds it in his mouth like a treasure. Says it with the same reverence as God.

On Cas’s lips to be named is to be worshiped.

“I’m a hunter.”

Cas’s lips twitch upwards. A hidden smile behind his lust-filled pupils.

“Ordinarily, yes. But what are you right now?” Cas’s right hand leaves his jaw, reappears to hover over the brand in Dean’s skin. There is a charge between them. Though Castiel has not yet touched it, Dean can feel the electricity flowing from his fingertips. “At this moment, sitting for me in all your glory, in this body which I rebuilt for you. Your atoms, which came from stardust, the same dust you will one day return to, reshaped into something new.”

Lightning strikes as he slots his fingers into place.

“Name it.”

He can do this.

“I’m– I’m your good boy.”

Cas’s smile is all teeth.

“Yes,” the hand on his jaw slides to the back of his neck, pulling Dean forward. “You are.”

The kiss is both expected and surprising.

Castiel is chaste. His chapped lips pressed delicately to Dean’s. He lingers for only a moment before pulling back.

“Was that…correct?”

It occurs to Dean that no-nonsense, domineering Castiel is a virgin, and his shy kiss reflects that.

That’s okay. Dean can take charge.

He surges forward, open-mouthed and desperate. He’s been waiting for this kiss for what feels like forever.

Castiel is clearly taken aback by his eagerness, his lips parting, most likely to ask a question, but Dean is quick. He takes the opportunity presented to him, sliding his tongue into his mouth.

Cas tastes like pure energy. Dean could’ve easily been licking a 9-volt instead of the inside of Cas’s mouth. It’s almost metallic, akin to copper wiring… or blood.

Dean explores for as long as his lungs allow and pulls off with a sensual pop. Cas looks starstruck. Mouth hanging open, shining with Dean’s spit. He touches a finger to his bottom lip, completely transfixed.

Between heaving breaths, Dean manages to ask, “Okay there, Romeo?”

And then Cas is straddling him as he captures Dean in another kiss.

Dean slides down the seat as far as he dares to accommodate Castiel’s size. His back presses uncomfortably into the tank; no doubt he’ll feel it tomorrow.

Dean swears Castiel has more hands than humanly possible because they are everywhere. In his hair, trailing down his back. There’s one gripping him by the handprint on his shoulder. All the while, Cas is kissing him like his life depends on it. It’s sloppy, and there’s a little too much teeth for an experienced Alpha. Not that Dean’s complaining. In fact, Dean’s hole gives an interesting flutter, jump-starting his slick production.

Dean lets his own hands trail down Cas’s chest, reaching around to dig into the meat of his ass, allowing him a better grip as he bucks his hips. The movement causes their dicks to slide together, the sensitive skin catching due to the lack of lubricant.

Cas throws his head back, body arching into Dean as he moans, and it is music to his ears.

Cas dips a hand between them. Dean’s expecting to feel it wrapped around them in a joint act of masturbation, but he slides right past their aching cocks. Snaking his arm through a hole between their legs.

Dean gasps as twin fingers press at his hole. He grips at Cas, nails sinking in as he steels himself. He hasn’t had sex since he returned from Hell. He doesn’t know if his body has reverted to a virgin state or what. There’s a real possibility that this is gonna hurt.

To Dean’s surprise, they don’t attempt to enter him, simply massaging the tender skin around his rim. Castiel is teasing him, but he doesn’t care. It feels good. Slick flows freely, coating those fingers in his own natural lube.

Then the fingers are gone. Cas brings his hand back up and, just like last night, examines the fluid smeared on him.

Unlike last night, Castiel doesn’t stop himself from lapping at the mess.

Dean’s breath hitches at the sight of Cas’s long pink tongue licking a stripe up his palm to his fingertips.

Cas hums low.

“Have you ever tasted yourself, Dean?”

He shakes his head. He’s wanted to, but he’s not a big fan of bodily fluids.

“Shall I describe it to you?”

It must be rhetorical because Cas doesn’t wait for an answer, simply pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.” His hands are roaming again. Petting down Dean’s sides. “Impossibly sweet, but the flavor?”

He kisses the underside of Dean’s jaw, that space where EMTs check for heartbeats.

“I can only think of one thing that might compare.”

His lips travel up to Dean’s ear. He nibbles on the lobe for a moment.

“Only a single creation in God’s Kingdom could taste as tempting.” He adds with a whisper, breath hot and slow across his ear, “As dangerous as you.”

Dean shudders. A sudden chill from the words traveling down his spine. Castiel pulls back. He takes in Dean’s face. The flecks of gold shimmer in his green eyes. The freckles that line his cheekbones bridged at the nose. His full lips are red and swollen thanks to Castiel’s love bites.

“Are you familiar with The Garden, Dean?” From his tone, Dean knows Castiel is expecting an answer this time.

“Like…” Dean’s voice is hoarse, his throat dry. He coughs. “Eden?”

“Yes, like Eden,” Castiel repeats. “Then you must know the tale of how Adam was cast from its foliage.”

Castiel’s eyes darken. His playful nature suddenly becomes serious as he continues.

“He ate something he shouldn’t have. Something his love had stolen for him. Something that filled him with knowledge. And knowledge is power, Dean. And power,” Castiel places a hand to Dean’s jawline, “is dangerous.”

It’s almost a continuation of his earlier speech, but the tone has shifted. The reassuring story of Dean’s worthiness morphs into something darker. He’s not sure he likes where it’s headed.

“You are the Apple, Dean, your body tastes of its juice, and I, Adam, who has eaten the forbidden fruit. And it was good.”

That’s… not where Dean thought this was headed.

“It has filled me with a yearning, a greed, that will not be satisfied as Man has not been satisfied.”

“Be mine, Dean.” Castiel kisses Dean. Firm. Sure. So unlike the delicate peck he received earlier, Dean melts into it.

He lets Cas take charge, licking into his mouth to explore like Dean had. The tang of copper is still there, but with a hint of apple on his tongue. Sweet and crisp.

So, this is what his slick tastes like.

The girls were right. Apple pie.

Cas swallows his moan.

With a playful nip at his bottom lip, Cas slides away. His new target is the nape of Dean’s neck. Cas licks and nibbles at the mating gland there. Rubbing his teeth over the sensitive skin before sucking a bruise into the spot.

Dean bucks his hip with a gasp.

Cas gives a low chuckle, more of a huff really, but Dean recognizes when he’s being laughed at.

“You’re being impatient,” Castiel chastises. Dean whines as he thrusts again, this time feeling the snag of dry skin as he brushes past Cas’s dick, which is still pressed so close to him. Cas hisses from the contact and sighs, “I’m tired of waiting, too.”

Those long fingers return to lap at Dean’s hole, collecting the slick that’s built up there, no doubt soaking Bobby’s towel under him, and he wraps them around their rubbing dicks.

Cas’s hand is surprisingly smooth. Dean would’ve thought he’d have callouses from years as a warrior like Dean does, but his palm is soft and gentle as Cas begins to pump them. The slick on Cas’s fingers aids the action, allowing Cas to glide up and down, and Dean realizes that was his plan all along. To use Dean’s slick as a home-made lube when there clearly wasn’t any in the bathroom.

The thought alone is enough to have Dean moaning.

Dean throws his head back with the sound, banging it on the porcelain tank. It hurts a bit, but not enough to stop the pleasure racking up in his belly.

Cas doesn’t relent. Despite the bang, he continues his steady pace. Pulling and sliding up and down the length of their dicks. A thumb pad circles Dean’s tip before Cas’s blunt nail dips to catch at the slit.

“Please…” Dean gasps.

Castiel lets go.

“Did you say something?”

The fucker is smiling again.

“C’mon, Cas.”

“What? If you want something, Dean,” Cas wiggles in his lap, brushing his dick against Dean’s, “all you have to do is ask.”

“Oh fuck, Cas… You know what I want.”

He gives him an innocent look, his head tilting to one side as if he were genuinely unaware. “I don’t, Dean. You’ll have to enlighten me.”

“Just…”

He reaches for his dick, determined to chase the orgasm that Cas has been denying him since yesterday. His wrist is caught before he can even dip down between their bodies.

“Ask, Dean.”

“Please, Cas.”

“What do you want?”

“Anything, everything.” Dean’s pretty sure the heat is in full swing now. Words are getting harder. His brain shuts off in favor of the pleasure of the flesh. “Want you.”

“And what do you ‘want me’ to do?”

“Chase me,” Dean says without warning, shoving Cas off his lap. In his stupor, Castiel falls back into the tub with a splash. Dean is already out of the bathroom door and flying down the stairs. He knows Castiel won’t stay down long, especially since Dean has just initiated a chase. Castiel’s Alpha will have no choice but to follow after him and, if he wants any chance of continuing their oddly biblical foreplay, catch him.

Dean races out the back door and into the salvage yard, bare feet stinging from the dead grass and bare metal sticking out. He really should be wearing his boots. Sam and Bobby are around here somewhere, but Dean isn’t planning to stick around long enough to see them. From behind him, an inhuman howl echoes from the house.

Dean is already past the tree line, diving into the cover provided by the surrounding forest. His chest heaves as he runs further into the growth. He takes time to backtrack and leave false tracks. Anything to throw Castiel off his scent.

After all, the chase isn’t just a silly game couples play. It’s a test of skill. Is the Alpha’s nose sharp enough not to follow false leads? Does he have the endurance, the stamina, to catch up to the Omega who’s gotten a head start? If he does manage to find the Omega, does he have the strength to pin him down?

None of this is to say that the Omega must accept the Alpha that catches them. If there’s no attraction, or you’ve simply failed to impress them, then the chase is considered a failure anyway, and the Alpha must relinquish any claims. Obviously, this doesn’t always turn out well, but Dean’s not worried about it.

Honestly, this is just a chance for Cas to show off as a hunter, a husband

A mate.

If Cas catches him, Dean has no intention of rejecting him.

A twig snaps to Dean’s left, pulling him from his thoughts. No way Cas has already found him. He sniffs the air, but only comes up with his own rich apple. It’s crazy strong, which does not bode well for Dean. Even a dull Beta nose could sniff out Dean right now.

Dean slows his pace and tosses a glance over his shoulder. A shiny line in the dirt catches his eye, and he stops. He’s about to backtrack to inspect it when he notices the line leads straight to him and stops under his feet.

It’s his goddamn slick!

He’s left an honest to god breadcrumb trail right to him.

Dean panics, he kicks at the dirt to try and cover the evidence, but it’s too late. A body comes crashing into Dean from his left, tackling him to the ground. He knew the twig was a bad omen.

Castiel is pressed flush up against Dean, pinning him under his weight.

“Do you yield Omega?”

“Yes. Yes, I yield.” Dean presents Castiel with his mating gland. “Take your prize, Alpha.”

Castiel rubs his cheek along the length of his neck, scent-marking him. Why is he so stubborn? Denying Dean pleasure, teasing him with his games. He’s fucking tired of it.

“Bite me or get off!”

Castiel growls and sinks his canines into Dean’s mating gland. Flame rushes through Dean’s body, alighting him from the inside and rushing to pool in his belly. The handprint on his shoulder erupts in a searing pain at the same time Castiel clamps a hand over Dean’s eye. Through closed lids Dean can still see the blinding flash of light coming from Cas. Something clicks into place. A bond half-formed in the depths of Hell finally cementing. Dean arches into Castiel, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he screams out Cas’s name, come spurting from his neglected cock.

He feels amazing. He feels invincible. He’s flying.

Castiel licks the blood gushing from his wound, his saliva helping to heal Dean’s latest scar.

“Dean...” Alpha whispers. “Let me?”

“Yeah…” Dean doesn’t care what he’s asking permission for. He’s just had the best orgasm of his life. Cas could be asking him to swear off pie, and he’d agree.

Castiel dips down between Dean’s thighs. Dean spreads his knees as far as he can to make room for him, but Cas throws his legs over his shoulders. His Alpha noses between Dean’s cheeks and inhales deeply before sighing, the warm air from his breath blowing over his hole. Dean gasps, his muscles twitching in anticipation. The first touch of Cas’s hot tongue against his hole is all he’s ever dreamed of. Cas moans on contact, murmuring something about the flavor into his ass, and the vibrations rack through him.

Cas continues to lick and taste. His tongue circles the rim and dips inside, and yup, Dean’s a born-again virgin because the stretch burns in a way it hasn’t in years. He hisses as Cas pushes forward, shoving his tongue farther into Dean as if he could fuck him with that alone.

Alpha hums, creating a ripple effect of cool water through Dean. It must be Cas’s grace because the burn dissipates, replaced by the pleasant stretch Dean remembers.

He wants the real deal.

“Alpha,” Dean squirms, presses back onto Cas’s tongue. “Need it.”

Cas’s voice floats up from between his legs, “Name your desire.”

“You,” He gasps when Cas travels higher to lick a stripe up his cock. “In me. Now.”

Cas’s face reappears. Blue eyes wide.

“Dean.”

It’s just his name, but it’s loaded with so much more. The uncertainty and fear Cas had expressed earlier leaking into his voice.

“Please, Alpha. My mate.”

Because Cas is his mate now. Like his shoulder, Dean’s neck will always bear Cas’s mark. Dean’s in this for life, come hell or high water.

“Even if..?”

“Especially if I pup.” Dean shivers at the thought like he did earlier at the table, but Cas definitely notices this time because he tilts his head to the side.

“You were lying earlier.” Castiel squints, clearly thinking back. “When you said you didn’t want pups,” he clarifies. “Why?”

That’s a hell of a loaded question. Dean thinks it’s because he wanted to reassure Cas that he would take him, pups or not.

But Dean’s also a selfish bastard. His wish for a family he can love and protect has dominated every decision in his life. Raising Sammy, selling his soul for him. Holding on so tightly to the only blood he had, even if that was a father who barely spared him a glance. It all stems from this one want.

“I’m Human.” Dean says, “And when Humans want something really, really bad, we lie.”

“Is that your desire? Do you long for pups?” Cas’s eyes are downcast in contemplation. Solemn as the rain over a funeral.

Dean wishes he could deny it, but he can’t.

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

“No.”

Cas removes Dean’s legs from his shoulders. And for the second time, Dean has royally fucked it all up. He hasn't even been mated for a whole three minutes.

Dean blinks, and he’s no longer spread on the forest floor. He’s back in Bobby’s guest bedroom, his naked back pressed into the familiar mattress.

To his utter astonishment, Castiel is above him. His arms bracketing Dean on either side, holding him up so Cas doesn’t crush him. His Alpha’s cheeks have a flush to them Dean has never seen before.

“You have to tell me if I do it wrong.”

“Do what wrong?”

“Fuck you.”

And then Cas’s tip is pressed to his hole. It’s so much bigger than his tongue. His slick allows Cas to slip in with little resistance, his grace helping with any residual pain. Despite the ease of it all, Cas doesn’t bottom out all at once. He feeds Dean his length slowly. An inch at a time to allow his body to accommodate the appendage inside him.

Finally, Castiel is fully sheathed inside the Michael Sword.

Dean missed this. He loves sex. He’s not picky about his position, but, God, there’s just something else about a large cock filling him up. And Cas fills him up.

“Is that okay?”

“Fuck, Alpha.” Dean wiggles his hips, feeling the stretch, the girth of Cas’s knot. “It’s better than ‘okay’.”

“What should I do now?”

Pfft. Virgins.

“Move.”

Cas starts out hesitant. His head is angled down to observe his actions as he circles his hips a bit, and Dean can feel him pressing against the inside of his stomach.

“Try–” Dean breathes out harshly when Cas looks up. He’s openly panting, mouth agape and shining from eating Dean out. “Try moving in and out.”

Cas gives a determined nod and changes gears. He slides completely out before slipping back in.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Like that– just, not all the way out.”

Cas is a quick study and soon picks up a rhythm of pressing as far into Dean as he can before pulling back to drive home. Each snap of Cas’s hips has Dean grunting, the bed frame squeaking under them. Dean braces a hand against the headboard to keep from sliding up the bed.

“Uh...” Dean grunts with another thrust, “Fuck yeah, Cas!”

The praise spurs him on. Faster. Faster. Dean can feel Cas’s knot swelling with each pass.

“C’mon, Cas, knock me up, Alpha.”

The cock inside Dean gives a twitch.

“You like that idea? Wanna get me pregnant, Cas?”

There’s nothing the headboard can do for Dean now. His back is pressed into the wood, Cas’s fingers digging into the love handles Dean has for this exact purpose. He’ll definitely have bruises in the shape of his fingertips. Add it to the list of markings Cas has already littered across his body.

Cas is close. His thrusts are more powerful and erratic as Dean paints him one kinky picture.

“I’d be so fuckin’ big, Cas. All round and swollen with your pups. Probably have to– ahhh– stop hunting, cause I won’t be able to see past my belly. And– And everyone would know who I belong to. Not Heaven or Michael, but you, Cas. You were the one who caught me. You were the one who mated and bred me.”

“Dean.” Cas stutters in his rhythm, eyes starting to glow as his knot locks him in place. “My Omega. My good boy.”

“Yours, Cas. All yours.”

The lights explode with Castiel, a sharp whistle accompanying Dean’s name on Cas’s lips. Thick, hot come fills Dean up, marking his insides, and the sensation alone is enough to have Dean join Cas over the edge for the second time.

When Dean comes down from his high, Cas is staring at his belly. Dean’s stomach is bloated with Castiel’s seed. It’s expanded outward to accommodate the mess his Alpha has made (and is still making, if the pulsating knot in his ass is any indication) in his womb.

Dean can understand Castiel’s fascination. He already looks pregnant.

Just barely, a month or two at most, but still.

“Do you think I’ll catch?”

Cas doesn’t look up.

“It’s hard to say this early. But considering the circumstances.” The heat, the lack of birth control, the mating bond… “It’s extremely likely.”

“What do we do then?”

Cas hears the quiver in his voice. The sharp turn from a sexy heat-induced scent to a worried one.

Castiel puts a hand behind Dean’s head and leads him in for a gentle kiss.

“I don’t know,” he whispers along his lips, “but I have faith that we’ll figure it out.”

“How can you be so sure? You have secret knowledge of our future?”

“No, that’s ridiculous, Dean.” Dean can hear the laugh in his voice. “Our future is unwritten. We’re making it up as we go.”