Title: The Secret In the Back of My Skull
Warnings: Violence, bloodplay.
Spoilers: post-season 4
Word Count: 6300
Notes/Prompt(s): Written for the Renegade Angels fic exchange at . For . The prompt: Forceful Castiel seduces slightly more reluctant Dean (reluctant because he’s concerned for Cas, not dubcon reluctant) Castiel uses tricks from Jimmy’s youth (was a bit rebellious, free spirit, tried everything at least once) to seduce Dean. Title is from “Ache For You” by Ben Lee.
Summary: Castiel wanted Dean to be happy. Sex made Dean happy. Therefore, Castiel would have to have sex with Dean.
They were lying on the forest floor, under an oak tree. A breeze rustled through the trees and bees hummed through the wildflowers. Nearby a brook dashed over rocks, contentedly gurgling. It was warm. It smelled of fresh water, sweet like wildflowers, spicy like pine.
It was perfect.
Castiel turned his head to look at Dean, and smiled at the peaceful expression on his face as he stared up at the sky. He had folded his jacket under his head for a pillow, though the grass beneath them was so soft Castiel thought it wasn’t necessary. Dean looked at him, and smiled a tiny bit in return. It grew wider the longer they looked at each other, until Dean looked back up at the trees with a quiet laugh. Castiel chuckled as well and resumed watching the sky.
Dean said, “Whenever I have dreams like this, whenever I dream something just . . . beautiful, I always look for you. I know you’re there, even when you don’t show yourself to me. Like I can feel you.” He squinted at Castiel. “Is that weird?”
“I don’t think so. I would know any room you were in.”
“Yeah, but I can’t hide from you.” Dean sat up, crossed his legs, and leaned back on his hands.
Castiel did not move except to cross his ankles and fold his hands together on his stomach. “Would you ever want to?”
“Not here,” Dean said. “Out there—” He nodded to indicate the waking world. “Out there, maybe.”
“I wouldn’t want you to hide from me,” Castiel said quietly, and Dean huffed and looked down at his hands. “I would never give you a reason.”
“I know,” he said in a gruff voice and picked grease from under a fingernail. “I only have good dreams because of you.”
Castiel smiled again, still watching the way the leaves danced in the wind. “There is little else I can give you.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining about a good night’s sleep. I don’t want to dream about Hell anymore, but I can’t stop it on my own. This is . . . a billion times better. A trillion.” He leaned back on his hands again, and then lay down, rolling his jacket under his head. “Want to know something?”
“Always,” Castiel said, looking at Dean again.
“When I wake up, whenever I wake up from one of the dreams you give me, I always look for you there, too.”
Castiel swallowed. “You do?” Dean nodded, and Castiel blurted out, “Do you want me to be there when you wake?”
“I don’t know,” Dean said, and Castiel tried to hide his disappointment. “I’m not ready for it yet, Cas. I know you want me to be, but—” He looked at Castiel, eyes serious, lips starting to frown.
“I want you,” Castiel began, but then smiled to himself and said simply, “I want you.”
“I know. I promise, Cas, someday I will be ready. I promise.”
“Yes,” Castiel said and looked back at the leaves again.
The equation seemed quite simple.
Castiel wanted Dean to be happy. Sex made Dean happy. Therefore, Castiel would have to have sex with Dean.
There were lessons to be learned from Jimmy, Castiel had discovered over time, lessons on how to react to human nature. He had learned how to treat Dean in order to get the best responses from him when it came to fulfilling his destiny, but how to actually seduce him . . ? Castiel was not so certain about that.
If he followed the pattern of Jimmy’s gentle courtship of Amelia, there would have been many walks, much holding of hands, long conversations over pasta or after movies, sweet kisses that always ended with her soft “good night” and the door closing between them.
Castiel suspected Dean would laugh him into shame if he tried any of that.
So he went back further, to a time few people knew about, to Jimmy’s wild days. Jimmy had spent many nights in a bar where men danced with other men unabashedly, and he and his lover danced together hip to hip before they went home.
He watched the memories, observed the way Jimmy touched the man he loved, observed the way he had touched Jimmy. If he could bring Dean this kind of pleasure, he thought, surely this would make Dean happy. Dean was not often happy. Sometimes he was pleased, enjoying himself with food or music or the pleasures of the road, but happiness, true happiness? That was rare.
He desperately wanted Dean to be happy.
Strictly speaking the brothers were in hiding while they researched ways to fight Lucifer. But no spell was perfect and Lucifer knew ways around even the most sophisticated of hex bags, so the attacks were constant, relentless. What Lucifer did not seem to know, however, was that Castiel always carried with him an awareness of Dean. He knew when Dean slept and when he woke, when Dean was tired or frightened, when Dean needed him.
Castiel had believed them safe until he felt a stab of fear from Dean and heard his prayer, Castiel! I need you!
What met his eyes when he joined the brothers was an abandoned house, its walls and part of its roof collapsed and the air thick with dust and bits of plaster. He could smell the demons before he saw them, swarming around Dean like sharks in a feeding frenzy. Castiel grabbed the nearest one and pressed his hand to the creature’s forehead. The demon screamed as light glowed from its nose and mouth, and then the poor corpse dropped to the ground. Castiel grabbed another and another, grimly exorcising them as the house shook and Sam’s face was blank with rage as he forced the demon out of its stolen body.
The rest fled. Castiel was not surprised.
When the demons were finally gone, only bodies left on the broken floor, Sam began to shove aside furniture and fallen beams, saying, “Dean, it’s okay, we’re coming, we’re coming, hold on.”
Castiel joined him and moved aside the larger pieces of wall and shattered furniture with a gesture. “What happened?”
“We were exorcising a demon,” Sam gasped as they worked. “And then the house started shaking and the devil’s trap broke, and then there were a dozen of them, too many to fight, it was crazy—Dean! Say something!”
Castiel moved aside a chair and half a bookcase, wiped his bleeding mouth with the side of his hand and with another gesture flicked away the rest of the long trestle table that covered where Dean had fallen. Sam dropped to his knees beside his brother. Dean’s eyes were closed and there was blood trickling from the corner of his mouth through the dust that covered his face. There was more blood soaking through his shirt, and Castiel had a sickening feeling that there would be more down the front of his body, under the wreckage.
Castiel knelt across from Sam and put his hand on Dean’s forehead. He brushed dust away from Dean’s eyes with his thumb. Dean’s eyelids fluttered and he tried to move, but stopped with a wrenching groan.
“Don’t move, Dean,” Sam said. “Cas, he’s not—”
“He is badly wounded,” Castiel said. “Give me a knife.”
Sam handed over his knife wordlessly, and gasped a little when Castiel cut a deep line across his wrist. “What are you doing?”
“Miracles,” Castiel said as he held his wrist to Dean’s lips, “are often messy.” He smeared his blood over Dean’s mouth.
Sam moved the remaining bits of furniture and wall from Dean’s body, and took his hand as soon as it was free. Castiel said nothing, only frowned as his blood seeped into Dean’s mouth.
Dean gasped suddenly, his eyes flying open, and he grabbed Castiel’s wrist and sucked hard on the wound. “Dean,” Castiel said, and then more forcefully, “Dean!” and pulled his arm away.
“Cas?” Dean gasped and wiped his mouth. “Sammy? What happened?”
“You were attacked,” Sam said, watching him carefully. “They almost killed you.”
Dean stared at his hand a moment. “I feel okay,” he said with wonder. “Sore. But okay.”
“Angel mojo,” said Sam and glanced at Castiel. Castiel returned the look, and Sam sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “We need to get out of here. Someone will come to investigate the wreckage before much longer. Can you walk?”
“I think so,” Dean said, so both Sam and Castiel stood and offered hands to help him. He grasped them both and got laboriously to his feet, and leaned heavily on Castiel as they took him through the ruined house to the waiting Impala. Castiel loaded Dean into the back seat and got in with him—and saw that he was right, blood had soaked through Dean’s jeans as well—and Sam drove them away from the house as fast as he could, making the gravel rattle under their wheels.
Sam glanced back at them several times during the drive. It was worry, Castiel thought. Dean was still so fragile, so mortal. Angel blood would only do so much.
He brushed his fingers through Dean’s hair and looked up to see Sam watching them in the rear view mirror again. Castiel looked away, and then down at Dean as Dean shifted closer to him.
Sam stopped at the first motel he saw. He got a room and drove them around the building to park in front of it. He helped Castiel move Dean from the back seat into the room, where they lay him on a bed.
“He only needs rest,” Castiel said. “And nourishment in the morning.”
“Okay,” Sam said as he stripped off Dean’s jacket. Dean helped as much as he could, his limbs moving heavily, and then fell back. “Dean, c’mon, you’re a mess. I’ll let you sleep as soon as you’re comfortable.”
Dean pulled off his denim shirt and t-shirt while moving as little as possible, and tried to kick off his boots without much success. “Let me,” Castiel said quietly and gently took a foot in his hand. Dean lay still, and Sam took his bloody clothes into the bathroom to soak out the blood in the sink.
While he was gone, Castiel stripped Dean down to his shorts and covered him with a blanket, and Dean turned onto his side and settled against Castiel without a word. “Sleep, Dean,” Castiel said softly, brushing his fingers through Dean’s hair again, and handed Sam the bloody jeans to put with Dean’s other clothes when he came out again.
Sam had a determined expression when he returned from the bathroom, and said, “Can I talk to you, alone?”
Castiel rose, took a moment to look down at Dean, and followed him out of the room.
Sam rubbed his hand through his hair, taking a while to choose his words despite his determination. Castiel waited, his hands in his pockets. Finally Sam said, “He could have died, right? He was dying? They crushed him, he was going to die.”
“Yes,” said Castiel.
“How come you could save him just now but couldn’t do a miracle for him before?”
Castiel gazed across the parking lot. “I was under orders before.”
“Orders to let him suffer.”
“It’s the past,” Castiel said. “He is alive now.”
“I don’t understand you at all,” Sam said, frustrated, and turned away from him, still scrubbing his hand through his hair. “You’re supposed to guard him, you’re supposed to—”
Castiel turned his gaze to Sam, and Sam shut his mouth and leaned heavily against the Impala, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. Castiel leaned against the car beside him. “It is all right. It is all right to fear for him. You will not be out of danger soon.”
“Yeah,” Sam muttered and looked away. “But he’s in a lot more danger than I am. Right? They know he’s the only one who can stop Lucifer. They’re going to keep coming after him and coming after him and—” He stopped and cleared his throat.
Castiel put an arm around him and pulled him close. It did not surprise him that Sam stiffened at this unexpected gesture. He touched Dean quite often but he had rarely touched Sam. He had always thought Sam would not welcome it. Sam made no move to leave Castiel’s arm, though, and in fact burrowed deeper into him, his breath shaking.
“We will save him,” Castiel whispered, with a fierce insistence stronger than faith and hope combined. “We will always save him.”
After a moment Sam relaxed and leaned his head against Castiel’s, and whispered, “What if we can’t?”
“We will,” Castiel said simply, and Sam nodded and let himself be comforted.
When they returned to the room Castiel knew Dean was still awake, and sat at his side on the bed to take his hand. Sam took off his jacket and boots in the dark and lay down, as Castiel began to stroke Dean’s hair, hoping to soothe him into sleep.
“Cas?” Dean said, and Sam bolted upright in the other bed. “Sam, it’s okay, I don’t need anything.”
Castiel said, “What is it, Dean?”
There was a brief pause. “You gonna stay a while?”
“I will stay,” Castiel said, slowly petting his hair.
“Good,” Dean whispered. “I like it when you stay.”
Castiel chuckled and settled back so that Dean could lay his head in Castiel’s lap. Castiel stroked his hair until he fell asleep and then for a long time after.
Sam woke first, and blinked blearily at Castiel a few times. He whispered, “Is he okay?”
“He is sleeping.”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “How’d he sleep?”
“Very good, I think.” Dean’s dreams had been quiet that night, with only a fleeting hint of Hell that Castiel quickly drove away.
Sam was quiet a while, watching them, and said, “Once, when I was about ten, Dean came down with pneumonia when Dad was on a hunt. I’d never really taken care of anybody—Dean and Dad were always looking after me—but there wasn’t anybody else to take care of him but me. It was terrifying. His fever was so high he had hallucinations.”
Castiel looked up from Dean’s sleeping face and waited for Sam to go on.
“But I called Bobby and he said he’d come and get us, and all I had to do was keep Dean alive until Bobby got there. So I did. I gave him water and kept him warm and probably knocked him out with Tylenol Cold. And then in the morning Bobby came and took us back to Sioux Falls. He carried Dean like he was a baby.” He paused for a moment, as if the memory was too strong to talk about. Castiel could picture it, the long-limbed teenager collapsed in the safety of his friend’s arms. Sam swallowed and said, “When Dad came to get us a couple days later, he and Bobby yelled at each other for over an hour. I never heard what they said. Dean turned the radio up loud, to cover it.”
Castiel nodded slowly and looked down at Dean again.
“Why are you still here, Cas? He is okay, isn’t he?”
“He is,” Castiel said. “He will be. I am here because he asked me to stay.”
“Oh,” Sam said and had that look again, that distant, remembering look. “He wants you to take care of him.”
“He knows you will always be with him, Sam.”
“See, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Sam said. “Maybe we should separate. Maybe I’m how the demons are finding us. If I go off on my own, if you stay with him and keep him safe—”
“He needs you,” said Castiel.
“I don’t know anymore,” Sam muttered and drew up his knees to rest his elbows on them, his head in his hands.
Castiel looked down at Dean, who slept soundly on. This was good, Castiel knew, it meant his body was healing, but still he would have preferred Dean were awake so he could reassure Sam. Castiel did not know what to say.
“We need to get on the road,” Sam said finally, throwing the blankets aside. He went into the bathroom and shut the door, and in a moment Castiel heard the shower turn on.
He sighed and gathered Dean closer to him, taking comfort in the closeness. Dean shifted and turned his head, and muttered, “Cold,” without opening his eyes.
“Demanding,” Castiel murmured and Dean chuckled and burrowed closer to him.
Castiel thought for a moment, and then shrugged his shoulders to free his wings. He shook them out, and then folded them over himself and Dean to wrap them around him. Dean made a very happy sound and pressed himself closer still.
“‘s nice. I like this.”
“I thought you might,” Castiel murmured, bending over him, and then kissed his forehead. Dean opened his eyes and blinked them a few times, and then smiled and closed them again.
When Sam opened the bathroom door again Castiel hastily put his wings away, and Dean, blinking in confusion and shaking his head to wake himself, pushed himself upright. “Breakfast, Sammy?” Dean said as Sam pulled on his socks and boots.
“Yeah. I want pancakes, I think. Gonna stay, Castiel?”
“I think it is time I go,” Castiel said.
Dean hooked his finger around Castiel’s for a moment and then let it go. “Come back soon,” he said, and Castiel nodded and left them.
Castiel chose a couple at random, just two men that he knew loved each other and had loved each other for many years, and watched them together for a while. He watched how they kissed good morning and bid each other have a good day as they left for work, how one called the other to say “I love you” while at work, how they met at home and kissed hello and sat together on the sofa for a while to talk about their day and their plans. When they turned out the lights he left them, not wanting to intrude on their privacy any more than he already had.
“It’s not just Lucifer,” Dean said.
Castiel had followed Dean’s anger to a small motel in New Mexico, and found Dean alone. He sat on the bed and watched Dean pace, his boots thumping on the threadbare carpet.
“It’s everything,” Dean said. “It’s the demons. It’s Sam. It’s Sam saying all the time that he needs to leave me. It’s even you, coming and going all the time, and sometimes I just—sometimes—” He stopped pacing and Castiel looked up at him.
“Sometimes you wish I were here,” Castiel said softly.
“Yeah. Fuck, Cas, sometimes I miss you.”
“I come whenever you need me,” Castiel said and Dean lowered his head.
“Yeah. You do.” He looked up and said in a completely different tone, as if he’d just remembered his manners, “Do you want a beer?”
“No,” Castiel said.
“I want a beer.” Dean went to the little refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer, and twisted it open. He had a long drink, and Castiel wondered what he could say to make it better.
“I mean,” Dean said, “I’ll love him no matter what because he’s my brother, but God, sometimes I just want to kill him. You know where he is? He’s out talking a walk. Though he’s probably running away. He keeps saying he should leave so I’m safe. It’s bullshit, right? He’s saying bullshit.” He dropped heavily onto the bed at Castiel’s side.
“He’s saying what he thinks,” Castiel said.
“Yeah, well, he’s wrong.”
Castile reached over and stroked Dean’s back. Dean was stiff for a moment, and then relaxed and leaned into him. “He is doing what he thinks is right,” Castiel said. “He loves you, and he fears for you.”
“He’s got to stop saying stupid shit like he’s going to leave.”
“It would probably help if you stopped saying it was stupid shit,” Castiel said gently, and Dean huffed. “I believe I will have some of that beer,” Castiel added so Dean handed over the bottle. Castiel drank, and winced at the bitterness.
“Will you talk to him? Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
“If you think it will help,” Castiel said and had another sip of beer, thinking that sometimes it was so much easier to talk to Dean when he was asleep.
Castiel sat on the edge of the pier, his feet dangling inches above the water, and watched Dean fish. For Dean, the process of fishing seemed to be mostly casting the line and holding the rod, and then dozing as the lapping water soothed him. It was like meditation, Castiel thought.
He said, “When Jimmy was courting Amelia, her parents didn’t approve.”
“Yeah?” said Dean. “Why’s that?”
“I believe it was because they believed Jimmy to be a bad boy.”
Dean snorted, the fishing rod comfortable in his fingers. “Jimmy? Our Jimmy?”
“Our Jimmy.” Castiel looked down at his hands. “He used to experiment with many things. He loved a man when he was young, but it ended and his heart was broken.”
“So why’d he fall for Amelia?” said Dean.
Castiel looked out at the lake. “She healed him. She gave him peace.”
There was a pause, and then Dean chuckled. “That sounds familiar. So how’d he win her over?”
“He demonstrated his sincerity.”
“That’s all it took?”
“That is all it took. Truth was enough.”
Dean started to answer when his fishing line jerked. “I’ve got something!” he crowed and started to reel the fish in. Castiel got to his feet and stood back to keep out of Dean’s way, though he couldn’t help but bounce on his toes a little from the way Dean was laughing in triumph. He applauded when Dean held up the line with the squirming fish on the end.
“Too bad this isn’t real,” Dean said. “I’d cook this up for you in a fire with a little lemon and it’d be the best meal of your life. There’s nothing better than fresh fish.”
“If you would cook it I would eat,” Castiel said, warmed by the delight in Dean’s eyes.
Sam and Dean were sleeping in an abandoned house that smelled of dust and ivy. The windows and doors were boarded up save for one, which had one board removed in just the right place to allow the Winchesters to squeeze inside. The furniture was covered with dust clothes but Castiel thought the upholstery had fallen prey to things far more stubborn than dust.
Still, the brothers felt safe—safe enough to sleep in separate rooms, which Castiel knew rarely happened. He drifted through the lower floor, looking curiously at the empty bookcases and discarded possessions—a wineglass here, a hairbrush there—and then climbed the stairs.
Sam slept in one room, curled on the mattress of a bed he had covered with a cotton sheet, only his jacket for warmth. Castiel caused there to be another blanket over him, clean and thick, and then moved on to the room where Dean slept.
Dean slept in the same manner, in a bed that was probably musty but soft, a sheet between him and the ticking. His legs and chest were bare, his jeans and shirts folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Castiel covered him with another blanket and then sat on the edge and debated waking him, and then closed the door with a wave of his hand.
Dean started awake at the resulting clunk and blinked in confusion. The room was not completely dark: moonlight shone through the window, patterned by the trees outside, and Castiel’s vision was not limited by darkness anyway. He waited patiently as Dean’s eyes adjusted to the dark. “Cas?” Dean said in a tone that was mostly disbelieving. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking on you.”
“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean said. “I was sleeping.”
“Do you do this a lot? Just show up in the middle of the night?”
“I do not always reveal myself,” Castiel said, which made Dean chuckle. He patted the mattress beside him in invitation, so Castiel lay down and crossed his feet at the ankle. He stared up at the dark ceiling.
“I like this blanket,” Dean said. “Did you do this?”
“It’s nice. It’s warm.”
“I’m glad,” said Castiel.
After a while, Dean said, “Hey. Do you sleep?”
“No.” It felt good to lie down, though, and let his limbs relax on the soft bed.
“I didn’t think so.”
After a silence of some minutes, Castiel said, “Do you remember your dreams?”
Dean was starting to sound sleepy. “Sometimes. I guess.”
“You once told me, when you wake, you look for me.”
Dean shifted a little, making the blanket rustle. “Oh.”
“I would like to be here when you wake.” He swallowed.
“I,” Dean said, and Castiel heard him swallow too. “I’d like that.”
“Then I will stay,” Castiel said, and smiled when Dean spread the blanket over him. He sat up to remove his shoes, socks, coat and jacket, and then lay beneath the blanket again.
They lay in silence. Dean seemed a little stiffer beside him than he had been earlier, as if he could not relax.
Castiel reached for his hand. “Dean?”
“It’s cool, Cas. I want you to stay. It’s cool.” He held Castiel’s hand tightly. “I just haven’t, you know, shared a bed with someone for a while.” He was silent for a while, and Castiel waited patiently for him to speak again. “You remember a couple months ago, when those demons swarmed us and tried to crush me?”
“Back at the motel, when you and Sam went outside to talk, I looked out on you.” Castiel opened his eyes but said nothing, and after a moment Dean said, “I saw you holding him.”
“He needed comfort.”
“I figured.” He was quiet, and he leaned his forehead against Castiel’s shoulder. “I hated it.”
“Hated it?” Castiel said. “Why?”
He sighed and rolled away to sit on the edge of the bed, his head down. Castiel sat up, confused. “I was jealous. I was jealous of him, Cas. I . . . I didn’t want you holding anyone but me.”
Castiel knelt behind him and put an arm around him. He kissed Dean’s shoulder. “Then I won’t.”
“No—Cas—” He lay his hand over Castiel’s. “Jealousy’s stupid. I shouldn’t be jealous of my brother. You can hold anybody you want to. Just—just—” He sighed again in frustration, and Castiel kissed his shoulder again.
“You are the only one I wish to hold.”
Dean chuckled dryly but made no other answer.
He was going about this all wrong, Castiel thought, and decided that if he was going to follow the example of Jimmy’s memories, he must do it whole-heartedly. He laid his hand on Dean’s cheek, turned back Dean’s face and kissed Dean carefully.
Dean grunted and pushed forward a moment, his lips hard, and then moved away from Castiel. “Look,” he began, but didn’t continue.
“I have told you things,” Castiel said softly, “in your dreams. I hoped you remembered them.”
“You told me you want to kiss me?”
“I told you I want you,” Castiel said and Dean looked at him, frowning.
“You . . . want me? You’re talking about sex, right? You want to have sex. With me.”
“Yes. You are beautiful,” he said softly and Dean made an odd sound that was not quite a laugh.
“I—God, you’re full of surprises. What brought this on?”
“I don’t know,” Castiel admitted. “You have said you’re not ready. I suppose . . . I am impatient.”
“Do you even know what you’re doing?”
Castiel hesitated, then said, “Jimmy has memories that have been. . . enlightening.”
“Jimmy,” Dean muttered. “That poor schmuck. What would he think of you wanting me?”
“I think he would understand it is done out of love, Dean.” Dean looked at him, pain in his eyes, and Castiel reached out for him. He stroked Dean’s cheekbone with his thumb and Dean closed his eyes.
“I need you to do something for me, Cas.”
“Look me in the eye,” Dean said, gazing at him directly, “and tell me this is okay. That you’re not going to get zapped by an archangel or something worse.”
“I promise,” Castiel said, looking him in the eye. “I will not get zapped.”
Dean studied him, and then leaned forward and hesitantly kissed him. His lips opened and Castiel took this as an invitation, and swirled his tongue deep in Dean’s mouth. He could taste the beer Dean had drunk earlier, and the mint of his toothpaste, but this did not hide the moist heat of his mouth. Castiel moaned and shivered with the intensity of it.
“I can taste you,” he whispered with wonder.
Dean’s fingers starting playing with Castiel’s tie. “That’s the point. Intimacy.” He shivered and looked up at Castiel, and Castiel brushed his thumb over the arc of Dean’s eyelashes. It made Dean chuckle. He lifted his head and tugged Castiel’s head down, and kissed him again, his lips open and his tongue flicking out. Castiel pushed his hand into Dean’s hair.
“Your skin,” he whispered when again they parted, though he did not move away far. He wanted to feel Dean breathing against his mouth and the heat flushing his skin. “It is so . . . electric.”
“Yeah,” Dean muttered and unbuttoned Castiel’s shirt. “Electric.” His thumb touched Castiel’s nipple and Castiel moaned and trembled. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel, Cas. Good. Hot. When you’re doin’ it, when you’re having sex, it’s when you’re most alive.”
“Show me,” Castiel said and kissed Dean again. Jimmy’s memories had not told him it would feel like this—that his heart would pound and his skin would goosepimple, that the more he kissed Dean the more he wanted to, that Dean’s heart beating so hard and fast against his would feel so as intimate as their mouths kissing and biting and sucking.
He wanted to taste every last one of Dean’s freckles. He wanted to taste every inch of his skin. He wanted to say “I am my beloved’s.”
Jimmy had never said such things to his lover, though, so Castiel did not. Instead he said, “You are beautiful,” as he kissed Dean’s chest, and nipped him gently until Dean moaned. He drew his fingers down Dean’s belly and said, “I love touching you,” and Dean replied, “It feels so good,” in a voice that sounded excited and a little frightened.
Touching Dean slowly like this made Dean breathe hard and fast. Following the path of his fingers with his tongue made Dean’s legs shake. Castiel liked that. He liked the way Dean’s stomach trembled under his mouth, and the way his hips pushed up as Dean whimpered and gasped, “Castiel.”
“It’s all right,” Castiel said as he slid Dean’s boxer shorts down his legs. “It’s all right to desire. I desire you, too.”
“I don’t, Cas, God, I don’t know.”
“Say it,” Castiel whispered, and Jimmy’s memories told him to wrap his hand around Dean’s cock and stroke, just gently. It would be time for tight and rough later. “Say it, Dean.”
“Please,” Dean whispered and turned his face away. Castiel reached up and turned his face back. Dean swallowed and said, “Please suck me.”
Castiel kissed the knob of Dean’s hip bone and slid his tongue across Dean’s belly. Dean grabbed Castiel’s hair and it almost hurt, but he didn’t mind it. He tasted Dean’s cock. It was hot and salty, pulsing with life.
“Castiel,” Dean breathed and his fingers moved down to hold the back of Castiel’s head.
Castiel moved his mouth slowly, exploring Dean’s cock with his tongue. He slid his hand up Dean’s belly, marveling that Dean’s skin was as hot there as it was in his mouth. Dean laid his hand on top of Castiel’s and held it to his chest as he gasped and moaned.
Finally Dean pushed on Castiel’s shoulder as he said gruffly, “Stop, gonna, Cas.”
“I like it when you’re inarticulate,” Castiel told him and sat back on his heels. He pulled his tie over his head and Dean sat up and began tugging on his shirt. They both forgot the buttons on his cuffs and pulled futilely at his sleeves, Dean chuckling and muttered, “Hold still,” until Dean got the buttons undone and yanked the shirt off.
“God,” Dean whispered, running his hands over Castiel’s chest, his eyes wide.
“No,” Castiel corrected gently and tilted his head up to kiss him.
“Castiel,” Dean whispered as he pulled Castiel closer to him, “are you sure this okay? Are you sure? ‘Cause I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me,” Castiel whispered as he caressed Dean’s lips with his thumb. Dean kissed his hand, and Castiel moved out of Dean’s arms to lie on his back. He pulled Dean onto him. “Please,” he said, running his hand through Dean’s hair, “do with me as you will. I want you to.”
“God,” Dean groaned and kissed him, his lips hard again and his arms shaking. “I have a condom in my wallet,” he whispered and bit his lip.
“Yes,” Castiel said, “yes, Dean,” and let go of him so that Dean could get his wallet out of his jeans.
“I’ve never done this,” Dean said in a confessional tone as he rolled the condom on, a process Castiel watched with fascination. “I mean, with—” He glanced at Castiel.
“With another man,” Castiel said.
“Does the thought disgust you?” Castiel asked as he pushed his trousers down his legs.
Dean’s eyes grew a little darker as they swept over Castiel’s body. “God, no.”
“Then I think it will be all right.”
Dean leaned over Castiel’s body and held Castiel’s hands over his head. “Yeah, I think it will. But you’ve got to stop being so damn calm.”
“I am not calm,” Castiel said and raised his head to kiss Dean’s mouth. “I want you.” He didn’t try to pull his hands from Dean’s grip, but he did wrap a leg around Dean’s hip as they kissed, and he whispered, “I want you to be happy.”
Dean laughed darkly into his mouth. “You’re doin’ a great job, Cas.”
“Yeah. Yes. Are you ready for this? Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Yes,” Castiel said, “yes, now, please.” He moved his leg to Dean’s shoulder and arched his back, and Dean breathed, “Oh, God,” and pushed into him.
Nothing had prepared him for this. Not his observations, not Jimmy’s memories, nothing. The heat and the size and the hardness of Dean, the way his own flesh felt raw and yearning. When Dean released his hands he wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and pulled him close, and he said, “Dean, oh, Dean,” in a voice so hungry it surprised him.
“Uh-huh,” Dean said, his own voice rough and low, his eyes dark as jade. Castiel held his face and kissed him, which felt right even if he didn’t check Jimmy’s memories to make sure, and when he licked a drop of sweat from Dean’s face Dean quietly laughed and licked the tip of this nose.
That felt even more right, like the way Dean’s hands raked through Castiel’s hair and the way Dean’s freckles tasted under Castiel’s tongue. Dean moaned particularly loudly when Castiel licked his ears, which Castiel quickly realized he loved.
Even when Dean pulled out of him and pushed in saliva-covered fingers to make him more slick and ready it felt good. It felt like Dean was taking care of him, giving pleasure as much as he was taking it. Castiel had not known what he would feel—he had thought it might hurt, he had thought it might not affect him at all—he was here, he was with Dean, and it was Dean’s body that was inside and against him and Dean’s mouth that was so hot and hungry, and it was Dean’s hands that soothed and roused him with every touch.
And it was Dean’s name that Castiel moaned when his orgasm came, which surprised him most of all.
Dean moved hard and fast inside him after that, and Castiel held him and kissed his forehead and face and throat until his body shivered and came to rest.
Dean lay on top of Castiel, breathing hard, as Castiel stroked his back. He whispered, “I’m heavy.”
“No,” Castiel said. “You’re just right.”
“Okay.” There was another silence. Castiel played with Dean’s ears and ran his thumb over Dean’s lips. Dean whispered, sounding nervous, “How do you feel, Cas? You okay?”
“I am okay. I am . . . happy.” He held Dean’s jaw and Dean blinked at him with sleepy eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “I’m okay. I think . . . I think I’m happy too.”
“Good,” Castiel said and coaxed Dean’s head to his chest. He thought this was what he had hoped for all along.
The door swung open, Sam said, “Oh, my God,” and the door slammed shut again.
“Oops,” Castiel whispered and in his arms Dean started laughing.
“I’ll talk to him,” Dean said as he rolled out of Castiel’s arms.
“What will you say?”
“I will say,” Dean said slowly as he gathered his clothes, “that you and I slept together and he’s just going to have to deal with it.”
“Perhaps you could put it more gently,” Castiel said.
“I’ll put it gently.” He pulled on his boxer shorts and jeans, and then bent and kissed the top of Castiel’s head. “Don’t go. Please?”
“I will stay,” Castiel said, smiling, and was still smiling as Dean left the room and hollered, “Sammy! Do we need to have that talk again about the birds and the bees?”
2 thoughts on “The Secret in the Back of My Skull”
Bwahahaha! That last line is priceless! Great fic, honey!