An engine rumbled in the distance, the volume of the angry growl of an unloved car increasing as the vehicle approached Rufus Turner’s cabin, which was located in the northeastern corner of Whitefish, Montana. The metal body of the car had once been a vivid, glossy soda-pop orange, but with age and abandonment the color had faded to a dirty, pastel orange. The hood had been painted a muted, matte-charcoal color, which had also faded from x number of years left abandoned in the sun.
Dean Winchester missed his beloved Baby, a 1967 Chevy Impala, but she was temporarily grounded due to unfortunate circumstances. Baby was an easily-recognizable member of the family, and with the First monsters – known as Leviathan – hunting the Hunters, she had to go off-road; meaning that the Winchesters had hidden her inside a locked shed under a dirty, yellowing tarp.
The 33-year-old All-American male, and the eldest of the Winchester brothers, could sympathize with that; he himself had been forced into hiding in dirty, decrepit hovels set apart from any sort of real civilization. After all, the Leviathan were intelligent creatures, and they were relentless in their search for what they deemed to be their only – if small – threat. That meant Team Free Will, or what was left of it, had to be surpassingly wary.
These were only but a few of the worries that burdened Dean as he steered the illegally-commandeered hunk of metal up the long, winding drive that led to the little log cabin.
As Dean shifted the car into Park out front of the cabin, his thoughts drifted to what Castiel might be doing – where he might be, what he was thinking about at this moment. Crazy or not, he missed the angel. Dean sighed heavily through his nose, a frown on his face, as he turned the key in the ignition back towards himself to cut the motor. Before he had even moved his left hand to squeeze the door handle to exit the car, there was the familiar sound of wings beating against the air. Glancing up through the windshield, Dean gaped at the sight before him.
Castiel was here.
On the hood of his car.
…And surrounded by bees.
No, Dean thought, as he scrambled to get out of the car, not just surrounded, but covered in what had to be thousands of the small flying insects.
While he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, Dean could at least admit to himself that he had wondered what mysteries were hidden underneath the ever-present trench coat and ill-fitting suit; well, after his hospital stay, the angel now wore the customary white scrubs provided him by the psychiatric facility. At least the trench coat was still part of his ensemble, even if at the moment there was a distinct lack of clothing.
Dean was maybe not as ready to admit to himself that a few times he had caught himself fantasizing about the angel, before pulling the emergency brake on that part of his brain.
But, if – when – he had imagined having the angel naked on the hood of his car, he had definitely not included bugs in those fantasies, and in his fear of being stung he was unable to allow himself a peek at the six feet of bare skin before him.
Slamming the creaky driver’s-side door closed before any of the bees could take up residence inside the Roadrunner, Dean stumbled several feet backwards, his eyes darting to any bee that got too close.
Castiel turned his head to watch Dean fumble his way gracelessly across the yard and swat wildly at one of his tiny, new stray friends, a small smile on his lips and an amused glint to his deep blue eyes. “Hello, Dean.”
Dean sputtered briefly before finding his voice. “Cass, what the hell, man?” he snapped, glaring at the angel who sat cross-legged on the hood of his “borrowed” vehicle. When Castiel’s expression morphed from light-hearted to full of shame and heartbreak he felt sort of guilty, but not enough for him not to be pissed off about a trillion friggin’ bees buzzing around in his general vicinity.
When Castiel immediately slid off the hood of the car – a few hundred bees still clinging to him, and thousands more following him closely – Dean instinctively backed further away. The angel froze when he noticed the hunter had moved away yet again, and he cocked his head slightly to the left and squinted his eyes before glancing at all the bees who had taken up residence with him.
Castiel spared one last glance at his friend, and the anger evident on his face, and with a single beat of his wings he disappeared.
Dean started when he realized that the angel was no longer standing before him, nor was even a single bee left behind. He spun around, scoping out the yard for any sign of his friend, but he did not see him anywhere. Dean released a deep sigh and a short huff of laughter when he allowed himself to replay everything that had just happened; from his best friend appearing naked on the hood of his car covered in bees, to his own reaction. He was still shaking his head as he turned towards the cabin, grinning at the ridiculousness of it all when he heard – and felt – Castiel return.
When he turned around, he had expected the bees to be gone and for Cass to be fully clothed. And, while the bees were gone, Cass was still completely naked.
“Holy shit!” Dean shrieked, squeezing his eyes shut briefly before blinking rapidly and tightening his jaw as he struggled to keep his eyes firmly trained above waist-level.
“Hello, Dean,” the angel greeted him again. He started to walk towards the hunter, and Dean had to force himself to not look down.
“Heya, Cass,” he replied, his voice strained and slightly airy. He lifted one hand palm-out and gestured with his whole arm towards Castiel, still keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the angel’s face, and said, “What happened to your tiny winged pals?”
“Oh,” Castiel said, a sad little smile on his lips and his shoulders drooping ever so slightly. “I took the bees back to their home. They informed me that you seemed threatened by their presence.”
Dean blinked a few times, opening and closing his mouth to discount what “the bees” had said to Cass, but what came out was, “You speak bee?”
“Well, insects, like animals, share a universal language. But, yes, I speak bee,” as Castiel said this, he used his fingers to make air quotes. Dean was about to poke fun at him for being such a dork, but his attention was drawn by something his friend held in his right hand.
“What you got there, Cass?” he asked, struggling to keep his eyes from wandering as he noticed that his friend’s hand had fallen to rest by his side, probably somewhere at thigh-level, and just no.
“Oh, yes,” Castiel said, his face brightening instantaneously, before he was moving even closer to Dean, right up in his “personal space”. “An offering, an apology if you will,” he said, his voice lilting musically up and down. He held out his hand, and Dean hesitated, shifting his eyes to the side and into the distance, pointedly looking away from his very naked friend. Castiel pushed his hand closer to Dean’s face, and the hunter was hit with a smell so sweet, so floral, so enchantingly infectious, that he just couldn’t resist learning what it was that could cause his scent receptors to perk up in such a way.
Dean looked down at what was in Castiel’s hand, catching but a glimpse of anything that might have been in view below and beyond said-hand, and then back up to Castiel’s eager and sincere expression.
“Cass, you brought me a flower,” Dean grumbled, even as he snatched the colorful cutting from Castiel’s hand. “Why the hell did you bring me a flower?” He raised the blossom to his face and buried his nose in the center, inhaling deeply, his eyes fluttering shut; the scent was intoxicating, orgasmic. His head spun with it, his stomach churned knots, his heart pounding.
Dean was unable to pay attention to the angel’s response, he was so enamored with his indigo and starlight-silver flower that he only caught bits and pieces, just a word here and there: something about China, old people, and flowers. He looked up when Cass stopped talking, missing the deep rumble of the angel’s gravelly voice, even if he couldn’t remember any actual words.
He was struck dumb momentarily, his eyes wide with wonder, as he noticed just how vibrantly blue his friend’s eyes were. It was like everything had gotten more vivid and colorful in the last couple of minutes. His eyes traced the details of Castiel’s face, flicking back to his stunning sapphire eyes every couple of seconds, before traveling lower. His gaze grew heated as he followed the lines of the angel’s neck, the bump of his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his friend swallowed. His sight fell lower still, to map the broad expanse of his proportionately-muscled shoulders, the slight dip at his collar bone; a muscle twitched causing Castiel’s right pectoral to jump, bringing to attention a freckle just-
Dean squeezed his eyes shut, bringing a hand to his face as he turned away from his friend, his expression a mask of mortification. Why the fuck had he done that?
“Are you all right, Dean?”
Dean’s hands clenched into trembling fists – one hand nearly crushing the stem of his pretty flower. He swallowed past an offending lump in his throat, taking a shaky breath, before finding the courage to reply through a suddenly dry mouth. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He heard the soft sound of Castiel’s bare feet shuffling closer to him, the hunter’s heartbeat accelerating at an alarming rate. Dean could feel his friend’s presence; it was too close for comfort, yet he wanted Castiel even closer. A tingling warmth drove through his body from the handprint non-scar on his left shoulder when he felt Cass place his hand there, compelling him to turn and face his friend. He was met with those baby blues again, full of concern and something like affection; those eyes were searching his face for something. Dean almost wondered if Castiel was counting his freckles, until he realized that the angel probably knew exactly how many freckles he had – or a close approximation – due to when he had pieced his rotting corpse back to wholeness.
To distract himself from the thought of what other intimate things Castiel might know about him from that experience, Dean dropped his eyes to the indigo petals of the flower he still held in his hand. He raised the blossom to his face, sinking his nose into the forest of silver pollen pods in the center, inhaling deeply. Dean was hit with an even stronger wave of the beguiling scent, his head swimming as he felt his mind begin to muddy and slow.
The hunter looked back up at Castiel, only now realizing that Cass had been speaking to him, a frown creasing his dark eyebrows. The angel continued talking, more urgently than before, it would seem, but Dean was unable to follow along because he was too captivated watching the movements of his friend’s lips as he formed words that Dean’s brain couldn’t process to hear. Dean felt the focus shift back with more clarity as Cass grabbed onto his shoulders, moving close enough that the hunter could feel the heat radiating from Castiel’s body – could feel the angel’s moist and feverish breath caressing his chin, nose and lips.
Dean could smell his friend’s breath, and he found himself comparing the scent with that of the flower that Cass had given him; he couldn’t decide which was more alluring. Castiel’s breath carried the weight of nature’s finest – damp, freshly-cut grass, a warmth like sunlight, a sweet, heavy rain in the middle of summer, a hint of ozone that reminded Dean of the lightning and thunder that had surrounded the angel when they first met. And finally, a taste of sugary, warm vanilla and spicy cinnamon. It was only when Dean realized he was able to taste all these things, that he also realized he had been inhaling his friend’s breath like a chain-smoker puffing their first morning cigarette.
He dropped his pretty flower.
Instead of freaking out, Dean found his fingers tangling in the hair just above the nape of Castiel’s neck, surging forward to capture the angel’s lips with his own. A grunt of surprise vibrated through his mouth from his friend before he felt Castiel’s steady hands move to his chest, pushing him back gently but firmly.
The hunter was breathing heavily, his skin tingling with electricity and his nerve endings on fire with barely-contained arousal – the raw feeling of a base instinct activated by wonder and lust. His head was tilted down, and he gazed up through blown pupils to see Castiel’s face; his azure eyes were wide and slightly frightened, but also full of concern. He flicked his eyes down to the angel’s pale-pink lips and noticed that his friend was speaking again, but all he could comprehend was the deep rumble of Castiel’s gravelly voice.
He moved forward, even as Cass moved backwards; Dean backed his friend all the way up against the driver’s-side door of the stolen ‘68 Plymouth. The angel blinked at him, and Dean gave him a dopey smile. The hunter raised a hand to Castiel’s face, trailing his fingertips over his friend’s left eyebrow and then his temple, before caressing his slightly-rosy cheek. Castiel’s gaze followed the movement as Dean lifted his other hand, using both thumbs to rub over the slightly-scratchy stubble that covered the angel’s jaw and disappeared partway down his neck. Dean could feel his friend’s heartbeat through the skin that covered his jugular; his pulse was hard and fast.
Cass swallowed, and Dean felt it under his fingertips before he trailed his hands lower, following much the same path as his eyes had earlier. It was intoxicating to be able to explore every inch of the smooth skin before him – from his throat, to his shoulders, brushing over his dark, hardened nipples, and smoothing over his belly. His thumbs caressed Castiel’s slightly-jutting hip bones before the angel moved again.
“Dean, no,” Cass said firmly, attempting to slide away from Dean and to the right, still leaned up against the car. “You don’t-”
The hunter side-stepped, pressing himself flush against the angel. He slid a thigh between Castiel’s legs and grabbed onto his friend’s waist forcefully, pinning him there. Dean caught Castiel’s eyes with his own, and he felt as if he could see the angel’s Grace burning behind them.
“Cass, I…” Dean croaked, and he darted his tongue out to wet his dry lips. “I want… I need to…”
“Dean,” the angel said, his voice low and hoarse. “This isn’t you. It’s the-”
Dean cut him off by smashing their lips together again. He yanked on the short hairs at the back of his friend’s skull, causing Cass to gasp in surprise and allowing Dean the opportunity to slide his tongue inside the angel’s open mouth.
The hunter was drowning in ecstasy already; the taste of Castiel’s mouth was purely heavenly. Dean needed to taste more, so he abandoned his friend’s mouth and trailed kisses along his stubbled jaw, nibbling gently. A shudder rushed through Castiel when Dean blew hot breath in his ear after licking the shell of it, and it only served to encourage the hunter when he felt goosebumps raise up across his friend’s skin.
He moved his mouth lower, licking and kissing the lightly-tanned skin, eager and enthusiastic in a way he couldn’t ever remember having been. He felt an urgency, and he could not ignore it. When he sank to his knees, dipping his tongue into Castiel’s belly button teasingly before mouthing his way down to nuzzle his nose in the short hairs of the angel’s pubic region, he felt Cass grab onto his shoulders.
“Dean, no,” he said, sounding completely wrecked. “If you weren’t… When the spell…”
Dean looked up, then. Castiel was staring down at him with wide, lust-blown sapphire eyes, his hair mussed even more than usual, his skin flushed pink. His chest heaved with the erratic breaths he gulped in through parted lips. Dean keened softly when he realized he was the one who had made his friend appear so debauched.
“Beautiful,” Dean murmured, before ducking his head to take the angel’s flaccid penis in his mouth.
Castiel hissed, and then groaned low and deep. His hand found its way to Dean’s head, but it didn’t tug or pull, it simply rested there, carding long fingers through the hunter’s short-cropped hair.
Dean felt his friend grow erect as he swirled his tongue around the head of Castiel’s dick, licking and sucking enthusiastically. He moaned at the heady taste of the angel, the weight of Castiel’s member resting on the back of his tongue as he bobbed his head, taking him all the way to the back of his throat, before pulling back and sliding down again. All the while, his tongue massaged the velvety skin on the underside of his friend’s cock, feeling the angel’s throbbing pulse through the large vein there.
Castiel was making small noises of desperation, half-hearted pleas for Dean to stop, even as his fingers tightened their hold on Dean’s hair, keeping him in place.
Dean glanced up, and he knew he would never forget the sight that met him. Castiel was leaning back against the hood of the Plymouth, bracing himself with his left hand; his right hand was threaded through Dean’s hair – Dean was able to see the toned muscles and bulging veins in his arms as he strained to restrain himself from fucking into the hunter’s mouth. Dean moaned at the thought, sucking more forcefully and pulling mewls and airy breaths of pleasure from the angel’s lips. Castiel was staring down at him, eyes hooded, and pupils blown so wide there was barely a sliver of blue left. His mouth hung open as he panted. His eyebrows were pulled together in a way different than Dean had ever seen grace the angel’s features before, and he knew the expression was one of pure pleasure.
Castiel keened as he made an aborted movement upwards with his hips. Dean shivered and grabbed the angel’s ass with both hands, pulling him forward and then pushing him back. Castiel didn’t try to repeat the movement himself, so Dean popped off to speak.
“Cass, I want you to fuck my mouth,” he said, his voice pleading. “Please.”
Cass hesitated for a moment, blinking, before he used the leverage he had on Dean’s hair to push back inside the hunter’s hot and waiting mouth. He went slowly, thrusting almost gently between Dean’s plump lips. Dean grabbed his friend by the backs of his trembling thighs and helped him along, showing Cass what it was he wanted him to do, and then Castiel took control and fucked his mouth in earnest.
Dean groaned, still staring up at the angel as he moved, and released his right hand from Castiel’s thigh to palm himself through his jeans. He sucked at his friend’s cock fervently, excitement building in his chest and heat pooling low in his belly, when he felt Castiel’s movements become erratic and uncoordinated. The angel’s hips stuttered, and he doubled over, curling his body around Dean’s head as he came with a cry of the hunter’s name on his lips, his entire being trembling with his release.
Dean helped him through the aftershocks of what was probably the angel’s first-ever orgasm, relishing the taste of his friend’s sweet, yet slightly-bitter, semen. Dean stood to his feet. He dove for Castiel’s lips again, caressing the angel’s tongue with his own and wondering if the angel could taste himself on Dean’s tongue. He pushed forward, nudging Cass to move up onto the hood of the Roadrunner, breaking their lips apart to plunge a finger in between his friend’s kiss-swollen lips. Dean whimpered as he felt Castiel sucking on the digit. He slid another finger inside, and only removed them when they were both sufficiently coated with saliva.
He reached his hand down between them, finding the angel’s entrance, and circled the rim of his anus with one spit-slick finger. Dean felt hands gripping his shoulders again, and he looked to his friend’s face, seeing the fear and hesitation there.
“It’s okay, Cass,” he said, voice slightly scratchy. “I won’t hurt you.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” the angel admitted solemnly.
Dean didn’t understand what that meant, so he continued his ministrations, eventually sliding one finger in the tight heat of Castiel’s hole. He swirled his finger inside the angel for a minute before he slid in a second finger and scissored them. Before long, Dean curled his fingers upwards, pressing against the small bundle of nerves he knew was there. Cass cried out and attempted to sit up; he had nowhere to go, so he clung to Dean’s shoulders desperately and trembled. Dean lowered him again and buried his face in the crook of the angel’s neck, biting gently at the skin there and soothing it with his tongue as he sucked a bruise over it.
Something about leaving his own mark on Castiel made his stomach flutter.
Dean leaned back to inspect the hickey he’d left on the angel’s throat, lightly brushing over it with his fingertips; he continued to pump his fingers in and out of Castiel’s ass, targeting his prostate every time.
Cass was a shaking and writhing mess beneath him, rolling his hips down as he tried to ride the hunter’s fingers, and Dean had to bite his cheek in effort to keep from coming at the sight. He pulled his fingers out slowly, and Castiel clenched himself around the digits. That caused a wave of euphoria to wash over him at the anticipation of what it would feel like for Cass to do that to his cock.
The angel whimpered at the sudden emptiness, grabbing Dean’s arm as if to shove the hunter’s fingers back inside, but Dean shushed him gently while he removed his leaking, achingly-hard dick from his jeans.
“Dean,” Cass breathed, his eyes wide and hungry, and Dean had to fight again to keep himself from coming as he realized Cass was hungry for him.
“I got you, angel,” he cooed, cupping his friend’s face with the palm of his left hand as he felt the tip of his rigid member push against the puckered rim of Castiel’s hole. “I’ve got you.”
“Shhh…” Dean spit into his right hand, running it up and down the length of his hardened dick, before poking gently at the angel’s entrance again.
“Dean,” Castiel sounded scared, actually – desperate. “You won’t want-”
The angel’s eyes went impossibly wide, his mouth falling open on a gasp as Dean entered him. He didn’t go in far, but he slowly pushed in to the hilt as he felt his friend relax around him.
“Oh, Dean…” Cass sighed, his eyelids fluttering. “Dean, I…”
The hunter was amazed at his own restraint as he remained unmoving once he was buried deep inside Castiel, giving him a moment to adjust. That moment was clearly unnecessary, as the next words out of the angel’s mouth were, “Dean, move!”
The demand pulled a gasp from Dean’s lips, and he wasted no time in obliging his friend’s order. He pulled out to the tip and then slammed back inside, angling upwards, his cock brushing against Castiel’s prostate and causing the angel to moan loudly in ecstasy. Dean built up to a pace that was hard and fast, quick and dirty, targeting the angel’s sweet spot every time, his balls slapping against his friend’s ass. At some point, Dean became aware that Cass had wrapped his powerfully-muscled thighs around his waist, moving in time with the hunter to bring Dean in deeper with each desperate thrust.
The angel’s spent cock perked back up in no time, and Dean briefly wondered if angels needed a refractory period at all. Dean sat back on his heels, grinding up into his friend, and removed Castiel’s legs from around his waist, instead bending them at the knee – spreading them wide. He watched, fascinated, as his cock disappeared and reappeared from the angel’s pink hole with each movement in and out. He also found himself mesmerized watching Castiel’s cock bounce heavily against his own stomach as he fucked himself on Dean’s throbbing length.
The hunter felt heat spread throughout his lower regions, his balls tightening in anticipation, and he knew he wouldn’t last. One look at Castiel’s flushed skin, and the frantic movements he was making, and Dean knew that his friend was close as well. Castiel started stuttering out broken fragments of speech that sounded like Dean interspersed with Enochian words that Dean didn’t need translated to recognize as filthy. Just as Dean moved to wrap his hand around the angel’s cock, Cass was coming. Castiel’s release shot out over his own stomach and chest, his toes curling and his mouth falling open in a silent scream as he clenched around the hunter’s cock.
Dean couldn’t hold back any longer as he felt his friend tighten his fluttering rim around him, and he came with one final thrust deep inside the angel.
Immediately, the veil was removed from Dean’s eyes, taking with it the haze that had clouded his mind. The hunter felt the blood drain from his face as the realization of what he had done settled over him.
Small spurts of his seed were still pulsing from the slit in his penis as he removed himself from the angel, and it dripped onto the cheeks of Castiel’s ass and left a wet smear on the back of his friend’s thigh as Dean staggered backwards. His face was a mask of undiluted horror at his actions, and his chin wobbled even as tears pooled in his eyes, threatening to spill over with every terrible second that passed in the aftermath of this… this blasphemy. For what else could it be called when Dean had taken an angel of the Lord’s purity and innocence? By force, no less?
He remembered the pleading sounds of Cass begging him to stop, and he’d taken what he wanted anyway.
Dean wondered if he would die from the shame and the guilt, and the absolute sorrow of knowing that he had hurt this kind, beautiful creature in such a way.
Castiel leaned up suddenly and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, tucking his head under the hunter’s chin. Dean stiffened and tried to jerk away, but the angel was supernaturally-strong, and he could go nowhere until, or unless, Cass wanted him to.
Castiel had let Dean do this to him.
Why had Castiel let Dean do this to him?
He broke from the thought as he felt a hot moisture soaking into his t-shirt, and he looked down at his friend in utter shock. Castiel’s shoulders were shaking as he sobbed quietly into Dean’s chest, the angel’s fists bunched into the material of his shirt against his back. He was mumbling words that Dean couldn’t make out. The hunter used gentle fingers to turn Castiel’s face so that his words were no longer muffled against his chest, and his heart broke further when he finally understood.
“I’m so sorry!” the angel choked out, breathing harshly through his tears. “Dean, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t- shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation… of you. I’m so, so, so, so, so sorry, Dean! I didn’t even-”
“-realize that the flower had magical properties until it was too late, and then even though I knew you wouldn’t want me in that way if it weren’t for the influence of the pollen I still-”
“-didn’t stop you! I- I- I violated you… Dean, I violated you sexually! And I brought thousands of uninvited guests to your home without even asking permission! I violated you…” Castiel’s voice cracked, and he wept brokenly, clinging to the hunter with an almost painful grip.
“Don’t you dare,” Dean growled through gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare assume to know what I want.” He felt the angel freeze against him, a small hiccup squeaking from Castiel’s throat. He continued in a much quieter tone, his voice a soft murmur, “I thought I hurt you, Cass…”
Cass loosened his grip, grasping Dean’s left shoulder with his right hand, and he looked into the hunter’s eyes searchingly, his own ocean-blue eyes wet and shining. “Dean, what are you saying?”
“That flower made me pull my head outta my ass! I’m saying…” Dean’s mouth worked around half-formed words for a long moment before he sighed and allowed a single tear to swell over and cascade down his stubbled cheek. “Cass, I’ve wanted you since I first met you that night in the barn.” The angel’s lips parted as a breathless gasp punched from his lungs. “I’ve loved you,” Dean raised his eyebrows pointedly, maintaining contact with those beautiful blue eyes, “from the moment you first touched me in Hell.”
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Cass informed the hunter, even as he leaned to graze his lips just barely over Dean’s. “But, I detect a note of forgiveness.”
Dean chuckled, shaking his head minutely. “There’s nothing to forgive, you adorable idiot.”
Castiel smiled as Dean pulled him against his chest, his hand still gripping the hunter’s shoulder where his Grace had burned an eternal mark on the Righteous Man’s soul.
“Gonna build a shrine to that damn flower,” Dean mumbled into the angel’s hair.