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Dean hears the soft push and draw of wings beating against stale air, feels the slight breeze as the papers on the table by the window flutter briefly and then settle. His shoulders tense, he sits up straighter on the bed and clenches the remote control for the television harder in his hand. He knows what’s coming and he’s so eager for it it’s shameful.
“You’ve been gone a while,” Dean says without turning around, can hear the tightness in his voice and knows Cas can hear it too. But it’s true, he has been gone a while. It’s not his fault, Dean knows that. He’s busy. Sheriff of Heaven isn’t exactly a nine to five gig and Dean doesn’t blame him for being away, but it’s hard on him and he can’t pretend it’s not.
He needs these times they share, needs what Cas can give him, what nobody else can. Needs it to function, because everything else in his life is so incredibly fucked up, always and especially now, and Cas gives him a release, an escape. He needs it and he hasn’t had it and he’s been on edge lately, jittery, sloppy with his gun hand and snapping at Sam for no reason.
It’s not just the sexual release that he needs, though that’s a huge part of it. He’s tried fucking other people and it always leaves him so very close to satisfied, spent and tingling but the niggling pressure in the back of his head is still there, the imaginary fingernails up and down his spine won’t settle and the itch in his teeth won’t go away. His hands still shake when he fastens his pants afterwards and it always takes him more than one try to actually get his key in the Impala’s ignition so he can drive away.
It’s always good but it’s never enough. Never what he needs. Cas is what he needs, but Cas has been gone now for weeks.
“I’ve been busy,” Cas answers and it’s not an apology. It never will be. It’s not even really an explanation either, because at this point Dean knows better than to ask what he’s been busy with. Cas has been really fuckin’ tight lipped about what he does these days, even more than before. “But I’m here now.”
Dean finally turns then, takes in Cas’ tired eyes, turned down at the corners and dark underneath, almost bloodshot and his lids are drooping. Cas is living a nightmare right now too, Dean reminds himself and it shows. Cas needs what they do for each other just as much as Dean does, maybe even more.
“Yeah,” Dean agrees, stands up and crosses over a few feet of tattered carpet so that he’s standing right in front of the angel, so close their chests are almost touching and Dean breathes him in, lets that same damn smell of generic shampoo and fabric softener filter into his lungs. It soothes him, his anxiety immediately lessens and Dean wonders why it is that Cas still smells exactly like Jimmy smelled that day a couple of years ago when he was stupid enough to say ‘yes’, and why Dean loves it so much.
Cas flutters his eyes shut, tilts his chin up and licks his lips. Dean grinds his teeth, his whole body vibrating with an energy he’s had no release for but he doesn’t take what he wants, not yet. Won’t, not until Cas tells him he can.
He breathes out slowly, leans in to press his lips to Cas’, softly at first and then the pressure increases, Cas’ mouth opening beneath his, tongue slinking out against Dean’s, teeth and lips mashing and brutal as Cas lifts his hands up to grab Dean’s arms, slides them up to his shoulders and squeezes tight.
“Missed you,” Dean breathes out when he finally pulls back. His own lips are bruising, he can feel it even now, but as he lifts a hand to cup Cas’ face and swipes a thumb across his mouth he knows those lips will be perfect as ever, won’t bruise or split or mark, not unless Cas wants them to. Dean can do whatever he wants, be who he wants and take what he needs and he can’t hurt Cas. Never, because Cas is so much more, so strong, indestructible as far as Dean is concerned.
Cas doesn’t say that he’s missed Dean too, but Dean knows it anyway, can feel it in the way Cas melts against his body when Dean wraps his arms around him, can see it in Cas’ eyes when one of Dean’s hands slides up into Cas’s hair, grabs it in his fist and yanks.
Cas’ head jerks back under the force, his mouth falls open as his neck is bared, stretched taut where Dean is pulling, keeping him strained and uncomfortable, gorgeous and oh so tempting. His eyes go soft and his body pliant when Dean’s fingers tighten, when he pulls back even harder and Dean can’t resist, tilts his head down and bites, sharp and hard over the smooth, perfect skin of Cas’ neck.
Cas flinches, his body tenses and then relaxes again right away and Dean bites down even harder. So hard there’ll be teeth marks, even on Cas there’ll be marks, if only for a little while. His fingers curl and dig, let go of Cas’ hair so that his nails can press into Cas’ skull and between the fingers and the biting any normal human being would be crying, begging for Dean to stop.
But Cas isn’t, Cas doesn’t, Cas never will and that’s what makes this amazing. All Dean’s pent up aggression and he can let it loose here, with someone he trusts and who trusts him and can actually take it. Not only take it but love it, beg for more and harder.
“More,” Cas tells him, reading his thoughts as Dean’s tongue laves over the spot where his teeth just were, soothes the sharp sting.
That’s all the permission Dean needs and he moves fast. Grips Cas by the front of his shirt and slams him back. The thud of his body hitting the wall makes Dean flinch a little, the force hard enough to send the framed picture of a generic valley lake skittering off it’s nail and onto the floor.
Cas doesn’t flinch though. Never. Dean just clenches his fist even more and pulls him forward, pushes back again so Cas hits the wall even harder. The neighbours complained the first time – since then Cas works his angel mojo to keep what they do quiet to anyone else, so they don’t worry anymore. They can be as loud as they want.
“What do you want?” Dean asks, growling the words into Cas’ mouth, his other hand sliding down between them to grab Cas’ cock through his pants, squeezing it hard, too hard for anyone to really enjoy.
“More,” Cas says again, spreads his legs so that Dean can slide one of his thighs between them, press it up against Cas’ growing erection while Dean’s hands find Cas’ wrists and clench tight around them, holding them to the wall next to Cas’ head. “I want more, Dean. Please.”
“Yeah,” Dean tells him, closing his eyes as his hands let go and once again wander up to Cas’ head, tangle through his hair before they violently grab, push downward until Cas is on his knees. “Yeah, okay. Fuck, Cas.”
So much pressure, Dean knows. So much pressure on Castiel, even more than Dean has on himself and it’s little wonder that Cas needs this, needs Dean to push him around, needs to pretend he’s not brave and strong and all-important, that he could squash Dean with his thumb if he wanted to because sometimes you just need a day off. An hour.
Dean knows that better than anyone and maybe that’s why they always come back to each other. Dean doesn’t want to think about the other reason, not right now.
Dean lets Cas go once he’s on the floor, moves his hands to his zipper and keeps Cas in place with hard knee to his chest. Cas gasps, jerks back and his hands slap the wall, palms down as his fingers scrabble for purchase against beige paint.
“Stay still,” Dean growls when Cas starts to push forward, off the wall and towards Dean.
Cas does, immediately stops moving and goes back where Dean put him but Dean shoves his knee forward again anyway. Hard, fucking hard and quick and right against Cas’ sternum, a blow so rough any human would be choking for breath, but Cas only blinks up at him, spreads his arms wider in invitation.
“Please, Dean,” Cas says, the words so quiet that if Dean hadn’t heard them a dozen times before he’d have thought he imagined them. “Do it. I know you need it.”
It’s not an admission that the feeling is mutual, but it’s true. Cas doesn’t talk much, but Dean hears the words anyway, what he doesn’t say out loud. Never in Dean’s life has he been the more open partner in a relationship, but he can’t hide anything from Cas and it’s kind of liberating.
“Suck me,” Dean tells him, finishes working his pants open and pulls out his already straining cock from beneath the fabric. He’s been hard since he first heard the beat of Cas’ wings and he breaths a sigh of relief when he takes himself in his hand.
“Yes,” Cas says, but he doesn’t suck him. He opens his mouth, reaches out with his hand and places the tip of Dean’s cock between his lips and then leans back, head against the wall with his jaw lax and just waits.
Dean groans low in his throat, pushes his hips forward and his eyes slip closed when Cas’ lips close down around his shaft, when other than that he remains still, lets Dean fuck into him. Dean’s hands slap against the wall in front of him, clench and unclench as he humps into Cas’ mouth, hard and harder, speeding up and increasing his force the more Cas moans around him.
The tip of his cock drags along the roof of Cas’ mouth, slippery with pre-come and saliva and he’s brutal, rough as he pumps in and out, cock pushing and pushing into Cas’ throat in a relentless rhythm. Cas’ lips move, try to tighten around his shaft and his tongue tries to curl up around him from below, press against the vein and create suction but with the way Dean’s moving, the quick jerk and shove of his hips, it’s impossible.
Dean can’t keep this up forever, though Cas probably could and before long he’s fucking Cas’ mouth so deep that the back of his throat is probably raw and Dean’s pelvis has smashed into Cas’ face so hard that his nose is actually bleeding and his lips are cracked. Cas lets him, reaches out to put his hands on Dean’s hips and encourages him, pulls him forward to fuck into his face again and again.
Dean’s teeth clench and he squeezes his eyes shut, tries not to cry because all he wants is to fuck harder, deeper and he can’t, he physically can’t because he’s only human and he’s too weak, not strong enough to break Cas, to actually hurt him. Nothing he does can make a dent. Not physically.
Cas eases him back after a while, when he can tell Dean is getting close, when he knows he’ll come if he keeps it up any longer. Cas doesn’t even have to use any force, nothing but a gentle touch, a suggestion of the flesh, but Dean goes willingly, lets his dick slip from Cas’ mouth and he tries not to cry out at the loss of warmth and pressure. But here in this room, he’ll do anything for Cas, just like Cas will do anything for him.
“Do you want me to stop?” Dean asks, sort of breathy and winded from exertion. He already knows the answer to that question, but he asks anyway. Needs to hear it. “Too much for you?”
“You know that it isn’t,” Cas tells him and his voice is irritatingly unaffected by the brutal fucking his throat just took.
“Why do you do this?” Dean asks suddenly, his thoughts taking an unwanted turn, emotions creeping up where they have no place. “Why me?”
He’s baiting Cas and he knows it. As much as he wants Cas to profess his undying love, he also wants Cas to tell him he doesn’t care at all, that Dean is just convenient, easy. That’ll make it even easier to abuse him like this, to throw him down and fuck him so hard he can’t move.
He can’t hurt Cas, he knows that and they both need this release, but there’s always that tiny voice screaming in the back of his head that the way he treats him is wrong.
Cas loves it every time though, asks for more every time and Dean gives it to him. And for all their compatibility, for how they never fail to get each off in exactly the right ways, there’s still something missing, something off when they’re together. As perfect as Cas is for him, he’s not everything, won’t ever be and it both breaks Dean’s heart and pisses him off.
“I need you,” Cas tells him, turning his face to rub it across Dean’s cock, smearing a sticky trail along his cheekbone. “I need what you give me.”
He needs Dean because he can’t trust anyone else enough to give them power over him and still have them respect him, love him when it’s over. He can’t show even a sliver of weakness or submissiveness, can’t risk being anything but completely in control around absolutely anybody else.
Cas needs Dean because in these moments Dean doesn’t expect anything from him but incredible sex. It’s a relief for both of them. Cathartic. Cas likes to let go, give it up and not worry, that everything will fall apart if he’s not holding it together, take what Dean gives him and delight in it, feel it, the pleasure and the pain.
Dean likes to slam him into walls and fuck into his mouth so he can’t breathe, grab and bite and squeeze with all his might until he bleeds and his bones break and all he can do is cry and they both know that Cas is his only option. If he fucked anyone else like he fucks Cas, they’d wind up in the hospital.
“Tell me what you want,” Dean says, stepping back a little further and pulling Cas up to standing with a rough hand on his shoulder.
“Bed, Dean,” Cas growls and then he pounces, tired of discussion. His arms are a flurry as he works to quickly and violently strip Dean out of his clothing. Dean reciprocates after a surprised beat and then they’re a tangle of limbs, pushing and pulling, twisting and grabbing and nails digging and scratching until they’re both naked, panting heavily as they take a step apart and look each other up and down. “Fuck me.”
Dean doesn’t have to be told twice.
He slams his hand out and straight into Cas’ chest, crowding in closer as Cas stumbles back slightly and Dean takes advantage of his uncertain footing to spin him around. He holds Cas tightly then, his front pressed to Cas’ back and his hands splayed out, possessive and controlling over Cas’ ribs. He walks him forward, guides him roughly with his hands on Cas’ body and his hips shoving into Cas from behind, lets go and gives him an extra hard shove when they reach the bed and Cas falls down onto his front on the rumpled sheets.
Cas pulls himself up, crawls forward so that his head is on one of the pillows and he spreads his legs, easy and willing, when Dean gets on behind him. Dean grabs hold of his ass, bunches up the soft globes of flesh in his palms as he uses them to lift Cas up, pulling and separating so the angel is on his knees, ass raised and open for Dean to enjoy, to use.
“Are you ready?” Dean asks and it comes out scratchy and rough and heavy with arousal. He spits in his hand and uses the saliva to slick up his cock. It’s not much, but Cas doesn’t need much. Cas likes the way it hurts and tears almost as much as he likes the pleasure it brings.
Dean doesn’t wait for an answer, which is good because he’d probably be waiting a while. Cas is quiet below him, eyes closed once again and his hands are clenching in the pillow case as he tilts his hips back, presents himself, silently begging.
Dean brings his thumb to his mouth, licks over the pad to get it nice and wet and then slides it over Cas’ hole before placing the tip of his cock there. Cas grunts slightly, angles back even more to sink Dean’s cockhead past his tight pucker and then Dean thrusts forward, sudden and rough, slams all the way in.
Cas screams then, fingers flexing and tightening as Dean works in and out, fucks into Cas’ pliant body as hard as he can. His hips jerk forward, his pelvis slaps against Cas’ ass and the force sends them both skittering forward, Cas’ head slamming into the headboard, the bed into the wall.
Dean’s fingers dig into Cas’ hips, nails biting into the flesh as he pounds him and he can hear the clack-clack of Cas’ teeth snapping together as his head is jarred, forced into the plywood bed frame over and over.
The burn he felt when he first pushed in is gone, replaced by a smooth, slick ride that he knows is the result of Cas tearing open to make room for him. He looks down and watches his dick move in and out of that tight little hole and he sees a couple of red smears on the shaft, blood that Cas is all too happy to give.
Dean closes his eyes against the sight and only fucks harder because of it, faster.
“Please,” Cas says eventually, quiet again, always so quiet that Dean almost misses it. They’ve been at this a while now. Dean’s legs are getting tired, muscles protesting the repetitive motion and his hands are cramping where they dig into Cas but his orgasm is getting closer and closer, almost there. Almost. “Please, Dean.”
Dean falls forward then, stretches one hand up and over Cas’ back, over his shoulder and around to cross his chest. He holds on tight and pulls Cas’ body back against him while he thrusts forward over and over.
“Damnit, Cas,” Dean hisses through clenched teeth. So close. He’s so close he can taste it but he’s not there yet.
He slides his other hand around, takes Cas’ cock in his fist and starts to pump. His grip is rough, too rough and he’s moving way too fast, enough to rub Cas raw but that doesn’t stop Cas from coming after less than a dozen strokes. It’s intense, Dean can tell by the scream that comes out when Cas opens his mouth, the way his body convulses with each pulse of thick, sticky white across Dean’s fingers and onto the bed.
The way his ass clenches down so tight around Dean’s cock that Dean follows him over the edge within seconds, crying out, loud and low, with an overwhelmingly embarrassing praise or two in Cas’ direction.
There might be some talk of how Cas is the best he’s ever had, perhaps an admission that Dean wouldn’t know what to do without him. It’s possible he tells Cas that he’s never felt anything quite like this and he wishes it never has to end, that Cas never has to leave.
It’s all true though, Cas knows it anyway, whether Dean says it aloud or not, but he still burns red with embarrassment when he slowly pulls himself free, watches as Cas’ puckered ring expands and then snaps shut again once Dean’s cock is gone. He sits back and rubs both his thumbs over it, pushing in just slightly and making a pitiful sort of noise when Cas groans in contentment and some of Dean’s come leaks out, slides down and over Cas’ thighs.
Dean licks his lips and moves his fingers over Cas’ flank with feather touches, rolls to the side and falls down. He pulls Cas close, rubs his hands over his body everywhere he can reach, his back, his head, his hips. The inside of his elbows and the backs of his knees and a dozen other places checking for damage.
There isn’t any, there never is, but Dean can’t help it. It’s instinctual.
“You okay?” Dean asks, pressing a kiss to the top of Cas’ head and pulling him in tighter, half on top of Dean while their legs tangle together.
“Mmm,” Cas answers, giving Dean’s chest a slight squeeze, nuzzling his nose softly across Dean’s nipple. “Thank you.”
Dean smiles and snorts, puffing out a breath into Cas’ hair and smiling broader when the dark strands get tousled even more. Cas is one sexy son of a bitch when he’s kicking ass and taking names, but Dean will take the rumpled, sated, fucked-out version any day.
“Not like it was a hardship,” Dean tells him and Cas hums in agreement.
“Still. Thank you.”
Dean’s throat gets tight then, he pulls Cas to him just a little closer because he’s not sure what to say, what to do. He knows what’s coming soon, what always comes after and it always sucks.
“Yeah,” he tells him. “You too.”
They’re quiet for a few minutes then, still and eventually Dean feels Cas start to shift restlessly next to him. Dean breathes out, wants to hold Cas so tight he can’t ever leave because this here, this just being together is worth almost as much as the rest of it. Dean wants it all the time, he’s desperate for it. Greedy.
“I love you,” he whispers, not thinking for a second that it’ll make a difference. Cas has things to do, things that are much more important than Dean and he’s okay with that.
Cas doesn’t answer him. Cas never answers him, he just lifts his head from where it’s resting on Dean’s chest and kisses him on the lips, gentle slide of Cas’ tongue into his slightly open mouth making Dean’s chest hurt a little.
“I have to go,” Cas tells him and before Dean can answer, before he can even blink, Cas is gone. Dean’s arms are empty and his front is cold and the pile of clothes that Cas left on the floor has disappeared.
Dean sighs and turns on his side, presses his palm down in the wet spot Cas made and closes his eyes. He should probably find some energy and clean this shit up before Sam gets back from that interview, but he still has time.
And despite the familiar emptiness he experiences each and every time it’s over, he’s feeling really fucking relaxed.
END