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For the Rest of Mine

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Cas's whisper was raw and ragged. He lifted a trembling hand to touch Dean's cheek, trailing his fingers gently over his scratchy stubble. Dean's skin tingled everywhere he touched, and he wondered vaguely if that was some kind of crazy angel afterglow.

Turning his head slightly, Dean kissed the pad of Cas's thumb. And now his lips tingled, too. “You okay?”

Blinking slowly, Cas groaned an affirmative.

“Good.” Smiling fondly, Dean leaned forward to plant a kiss on Cas's forehead before swinging his feet off the side of the bed. “Don't move.”

Before he could stand up, though, Cas clamped a hand around his wrist. His grip wasn't tight, but when Dean tugged, he couldn't free himself. “Cas, I need to get up.”

“No,” Cas mumbled, more gravel than voice. “Stay.”

Leaning back down, Dean dropped another kiss on Cas's lips. He'd intended it as just a quick peck, but Cas instantly had his hand at the back of his head, deepening the kiss into something languid and sweet.

Pulling away as far as Cas would let him, Dean murmured, “I'll be right back. Gotta make sure Sammy doesn't come busting in here any time soon.”

Another lazy blink, and then Cas released him. “Hurry.”

Dean surreptitiously adjusted the crotch of his pants then stepping into his shoes, glad that at least he didn't have to take the time to get dressed before heading outside. Picking up his keys and Sam's duffel, he paused at the door, looking back to the blissed out angel on his bed. “Don't go anywhere.”

“I won't,” Cas replied.

He stepped out to the Impala, pulling his phone from his pocket to call Sam as he shoved the duffel into the trunk.

Sam picked up on the third ring. “No, Dean, I'm not bringing you pie. Or beer.”

“You think that's why I'm calling? You wound me, Sammy. No, dude, I'm calling cuz Barry White's in town.” He held the phone a few inches away from his ear.

As expected, Sam's voice blasted through the speaker. “Dammit, Dean, you jackass! I've been busting my butt for hours here, and you're picking up some bar chick?”

“Ah, cram it, Sam. Usual Code White protocol applies – your shit's in the car, so go get your own damn room. I'm not responsible for any therapy bills if you walk in on us.” A twinge of guilt hit Dean for not correcting Sam's assumption, but he wasn't ready to talk about it just yet. Besides, that was likely to be a painfully long talk, and he had way better things to be doing right now.

Sam gave an annoyed sigh. “Whatever, asshat.”

“And I wouldn't say no if you did bring pie,” Dean rushed to add just before Sam cut the connection.

He paused again right outside the door to the room. Cas and his magical angel ears probably heard every word of that conversation. Dean cringed a little. He didn't want him hurt or pissed off because Dean was too chicken shit to be up front with Sam. When he stepped back into the room, though, Cas was still right where he'd been, his eyes opening to follow Dean as soon as he came in the door. Maybe he hadn't heard them after all.

Dean dropped his phone and keys onto the table by the door, then crossed over to the bathroom and grabbed one of the extra towels. Cas didn't move when he returned to sit on the edge of the bed. Dean cleaned up the come from Cas's stomach and gently drew the waistband of his boxers back up where they belonged. Wadding up the towel, he chucked it off the end of the bed.

Stretching out beside him, Dean propped his head on his hand to watch Cas drift in his post-orgasm haze. His dark hair was rumpled, sticking out in ridiculous directions, and he wore the most adorable dreamy expression on his face. The warm feeling welled up in Dean's chest again, pushing a smile out of him.

Unable to resist touching, he let his palm glide over Cas's chest and stomach in slow patterns. “So what'd you think? Was it what you expected?” he asked.

Cas hummed thoughtfully. “I had no specific expectations, since I'm relatively unaccustomed to physical experiences in a human vessel. But it was...” He groped for words before shaking his head helplessly. “There aren't words in any human language to describe how it felt.”

Dean smirked. “So, good then?”

A soft, warm smile broke over Cas's lips. “Yes.”

“Because I'm so awesome.”

Cas placed his hand over Dean's, clasping it to his chest. “Because I love you.”

He'd just been being a smartass, but Cas sounded so serious, so sincere. Dean's teasing grin faded as the overwhelming weight of it all hit him square in the chest, making it hard to breathe.

But then Cas's serious expression changed into an exaggerated version, and he added, “And also because you are awesome.”

A sudden overpowering need to kiss the shit out of Cas drove Dean to surge forward, claiming him in a messy clash of mouths. Cas rumbled low in his throat and clutched at Dean's shirt as he pushed into the kiss.

Out of breath, Dean finally pulled away. The urge to say something was strong and only growing stronger, pressing him to tell Cas how he felt. But he still didn't know exactly what he was feeling, so he was left painfully silent, staring into wide blue eyes.

“There is one thing, though,” Cas said, tracing his fingers along Dean's ribs.

Shit. He knew it. Cas had heard him on the phone with Sam. “Yeah?” he asked hoarsely, avoiding Cas's gaze.

“Was I mistaken in my understanding that sex involved significantly less clothing than this?”

It took a moment for the question to sink in since it was so far from what he was expecting. Dean chuckled. “No, not mistaken – it certainly can be true, but not always. Sometimes wearing something is hotter than wearing nothing. Depends on the situation.”

“I see.” Cas mulled it over. “May I remove your clothing?”

Dean swallowed hard. “Um. Hell, yeah.”

Cas started unbuttoning the dress shirt Dean had worn with his fed suit that day, the level of concentration on his face seemingly far too high for the task. He pulled them both up to a sitting position so he could push the shirt off his shoulders. Dean stripped his arms from the sleeves and tossed the shirt to the floor. Cas's eyes raked over his chest, and a flush prickled over Dean's skin. He felt that gaze like a physical touch.

“You, too, Cas. Shirt off,” he insisted. “It's only fair.”

From the look Cas gave him, Dean thought he was going to refuse at first, but eventually Cas pulled off his shirt, tossing it to the floor, too. Dean knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. Under his usual trench coat and suit, Cas was rocking one hell of a body.

“Damn, Cas,” he murmured in appreciation.

Cas angled his head to the side in a manner that should have been cute, but the look on his face was far too hungry for cute to apply. “Tell me how to proceed, Dean. I wish to bring you pleasure as you did for me.”

“Oh, believe me, Cas. I enjoyed the hell out of that, too.”

“Nevertheless, you didn't reach orgasm, and I want to learn how to give that to you.”

God, he loved Cas's bluntness. Sure, sometimes it was awkward as hell, but it was just so Cas. “Well, I ain't gonna argue with that,” he laughed. “I can't really tell you 'how to proceed', though. There's not a step-by-step here. It's more of a learn as you go sort of thing.”

Dean lay back onto the bed, partially propped against the pillow and headboard. He beckoned with a hand. “Come here.”

With a puzzled frown, Cas crawled up the bed until he was close enough that Dean threaded his fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and pulled him in for a tongue-heavy kiss. He hooked the other hand around Cas's thigh and guided him to straddle his lap. By the time they pulled apart, they were both breathless.

“You can just... try stuff and see what works.”

“Try stuff,” Cas repeated skeptically.

Dean felt a blush spread up his neck to his cheeks. “Yeah, you know. Touching, kissing...sucking.” His breath caught on the last word. His erection, which had waned a bit after the excitement of getting Cas off has passed, roused again eagerly at the thought of Cas sucking any part of him.

Cas continued eyeing him uncertainly, so Dean leaned back, tucking one arm behind his head. “It's cool, Cas. Go to town. I'll let you know what's good and what isn't. You can do anything you want to me.” Oh, god, yes, anything.

Cautiously, Cas reached out to touch just below Dean's collarbone, brushing his fingertips over the tattoo there. Goosebumps erupted at the tingle that accompanied the light caresses. The trailing fingers drifted lower, almost tickling as they traced over the muscle of his chest and the slightly softer flesh of his belly. Soon Cas had both hands spread over Dean's skin, exploring everything he could reach.

As he got more comfortable, he began trying different kinds of touches – pushing, squeezing, prodding, scratching. He kneaded gently at what might someday become love handles. He scraped his fingers up Dean's abdomen, from the waistband of his slacks upward. He rubbed at one of his nipples, but unlike Cas's, Dean's weren't particularly sensitive.

The simple and sometimes strange touches felt amazing even though it seemed to Dean somewhat as if he were being cataloged like a specimen in a lab. With every small sound Dean made or hitch in his breath, Cas flicked his eyes up to his face to confirm the reactions. But when Cas leaned down to start exploring with his mouth, Dean stopped giving a shit about much of anything else. The tingling tongue sampled the vast majority of his chest, then laved up along his throat where Cas clamped down to suck at a spot just below his ear.

Dean tipped his head back and groaned, “Hnnngh, yeah. God, that's good, Cas.”

Cas hummed an answer, but didn't stop what he was doing. Dean was going to have one hell of a hickey there. The angel nuzzled his way up to Dean's ear, licking along the outer curve. Dean moaned again, then yelped in surprise when Cas's tongue found the inside of his ear.

“Dude, gross!” Dean laughed as he quickly stuck his finger in his ear to wipe out the spit. “Ew. Okay, that goes on the 'no' list. No wet willies. Ever.”


Dean tucked his hand behind his head again and settled back into the pillow. “The rest of it was definitely fair game, though.”

A smile teased at Cas's mouth. “Understood.”

He leaned in again to continue his sampling of skin, hands still roving over Dean's body. Some of the things Cas chose to do were downright weird, like plucking at Dean's armpit hair with his lips and biting his elbow, but most of them were fucking awesome. He was so intensely focused on every movement and Dean's every reaction, that it made even the smallest not-weird touch extra hot.

Eventually, he worked his way down the arm Dean wasn't using as a pillow, turning it this way and that, touching and exploring in ways Dean had never realized could be so erotic. No one had ever licked and nibbled at the crease of his elbow before, but it turned out he kinda liked it. Who knew?

And when Cas pulled his index finger into his mouth and sucked, Dean gasped aloud and his body surged upward, bucking his groin into Cas where he straddled him. Every nerve in his finger seemed to be directly connected to his dick.

Pulling away for a moment, Cas asked, “That's pleasurable?”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Dean exclaimed.

Pleased with Dean's reaction, Cas kept at his hand for a while, testing out different fingers or multiple fingers at the same time and whether licking or biting elicited a similar response. Finally he kissed Dean's knuckles and returned his hand to the bed. He leaned forward again, nipping at Dean's lower lip before sinking his tongue into his mouth, putting their Kissing 101 lessons to good use. Dean's hand came up to clutch at the back of Cas's neck, but Cas growled and pressed his arm back down to the mattress.

Okay, then. This was Cas's show. Got it. He tilted his head back and let Cas do as he liked.

Suddenly, something stroked the inner sides of Dean's legs from ankle to crotch in one long sweep. He flinched in surprise, but whined at the incredible feel of it, smooth and sleek with a subtle hum, brushing over his skin right through his clothes.

“Holy fucking hell, Cas, what is that?” he gasped out.

“What, this?” The caress came again, slower this time, and with more attention paid to all the subtle contours of his legs.

“Ohhh damn! Yes, that!”

Cas tipped his head slightly. “You like it.” It wasn't a question.

The impossible touches went from long caresses to little flicks and swirls that teased the insides of his thighs. “Fuck, yes, I like it! What is it?”

“My wings.”

Well, duh, of course it was. If Dean had two brain cells left to rub together, he'd have realized that. As it was, he didn't give a rat's ass if it was tentacles as long as the touching didn't stop.

Cas placed a hand in the center of Dean's chest and sat up. Walking himself back a bit on his knees, Cas gave himself enough space to undo Dean's slacks, then crawled off the end of the bed, stripping Dean's pants and boxers down as he went, pulling his socks off last. Dean clenched his fists into the pillow, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable in his nudity but also wildly aroused by Cas's eyes on him. His hips rocked subtly, the muscles in his abdomen already straining to thrust himself into something. Anything. His cock ached to be touched, but he waited to see what Cas would do.

Cas stood shirtless at the foot of the bed, his eyes searing trails in Dean's skin as they raked over his body. Finally, their eyes met, and Dean's lungs failed him for a second. This didn't feel like other times Cas stared at Dean. Yes, there was all the new-found love and lust, but what stunned him was the fierce possessiveness there, as if Dean belonged to him alone.

Dean wanted that. Needed it. He wanted to be Cas's so badly it hurt. Dean whimpered at the throbbing ache in his groin.

Cas, please.” he begged.

“Please what, Dean?”

“Fuck, Cas, touch me! Friggin' touch me with those wings of yours!” Dean cried desperately.

Cas's brows raised and eyes narrowed at his tone, and Dean scrambled to fix it.

“I mean, will you touch me, Cas? Please touch me with your wings?”

He was immediately rewarded with a cool, tingling caress that felt like heaven on his overheated skin. It started at the center of his chest but then traveled slowly down, diverting to the outside of his thigh, bypassing his cock completely at the last second. He whined through his teeth, but didn't bitch about it, figuring Cas was torturing him a little extra for being pushy. Sure enough, the next touch gave him what he needed.

Dean gave a wordless cry as the wings stroked along his cock at last. His back arched, and he dug his heels into the mattress, pushing into the touch as much as he could. What he assumed were feathers felt sleek and soft, but firm enough to provide the pressure and friction he was so desperate for.

“Dean, open your eyes.” The words rumbled through his consciousness, adding another layer to the intense pleasure buzzing through him.

His eyes snapped open, and he blinked, trying to focus. Beyond his own body writhing and grinding on the bed, Cas filled his view, the very picture of power. Cas's face was rapt in his concentration, eyes gleaming white behind the blue. The muscles of his bared shoulders shifted and flexed as he worked his invisible wings over Dean's cock. His lips were parted around heavy breaths, and the line of his pants was distended by his obvious arousal.

“Oh, fuck, Cas,” Dean choked out, his eyes fluttering shut again.

“I said open your eyes, Dean. I want to see you.”

Dean forced his eyes open again and fixed them on his angel. He gasped as a new sensation added to his sensory overload – light flicks and touches against the underside of his balls and along his perineum. He twisted his fists tighter into the pillow as animal noises tore out of his throat.

Cas's voice was a ragged growl. “Tell me this brings you pleasure, Dean. Will the touch of my wings bring you to climax?”

“Yes! Yes, fuck yes, Cas.” Heat and need made his rhythmic thrusts into Cas's feathers become erratic as he chased his peak. “Please, I need-- Oh, shit. Ohhh, Cas. Castiel!

The angel's full name broke from his lips as he tumbled into ecstasy. Strangled sobbing sounds followed as his cock erupted, sending bursts of come over his stomach and chest. When the last of it pulsed out in a weak dribble, the tension thrumming through his body snapped, and he collapsed back into the bed, trembling and sucking great gasps of air.

“Cas,” he mumbled, reaching out blindly until a hand took his. He pulled until he felt Cas's weight dip the edge of the bed beside him.

When he felt fingers comb gently through his hair, Dean finally looked up to see Castiel gazing back at him. Cas's hand slipped down to cup his cheek, his thumb stroking his cheekbone. Dean leaned into the touch, too hazy to worry about how girly or needy that might seem.

He felt a flash of disappointment when Cas took his hand away, but then those fingers were at his stomach, trailing through the puddle of come. Cas lifted his hand, examining the stuff curiously, then stuck two fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean. Dean whimpered weakly, and his cock gave a valiant effort to respond, though all it managed was a feeble twitch.

“Oh my god. So fuckin' hot, Cas,” he slurred.

With a small smile, Cas swiped a finger through Dean's come again and offered it out to him. Dean only hesitated for a second before he opened up and sucked Cas's finger into his mouth, working the length of it with his tongue. Judging by the sharp intake of breath, he guessed Cas liked that.

Then Dean made a face as he moved a little too much, and some of the jizz on his stomach drooled down his side. He released Cas's hand, and lifted his chin toward the end of the bed. “Towel?” he asked.

“That's not necessary, Dean,” Cas told him.

Dean frowned, not getting it, until he glanced down to see all of the mess was gone. Well, that was handy as hell. “Nice,” he said with a smile tweaking one corner of his mouth. He was seriously digging the whole angel thing.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Why're you still wearing pants?”

Instead of answering, Cas stood, his still unfastened pants hanging loosely at his hips. Dean's dick gave another twitch and his face heated as he flashed back to the image he'd had in his head earlier of being on his knees for the angel. Holy hell, he just came. How could he be getting all hot again thinking about Cas's cock in his mouth? He blinked himself back to reality.

After he'd taken off the rest of his clothes, Cas sat again at the edge of the bed. Dean wanted him to lie down with him, but didn't want to ask and come off clingy. Nobody liked clingy.

Cas glanced at Dean briefly – just a glance and not a stare – and it made him look shy. It was ridiculously adorable, but Dean was curious why he was suddenly all bashful.

“Was that...” Cas fished for a word, “...acceptable?”

“Dude,” Dean chuckled in disbelief. “You just made me bust a nut all over myself by touching me with your invisible freakin' wings. That was way the hell better than acceptable.”

Cas ducked his head and smiled, and Dean had to shove back the excessively mushy feelings that level of cuteness triggered. Instead, he relaxed back into his pillow and settled for resting his hand on the angel's thigh. Cas's smile grew as he watched Dean's fingers trace back and forth on his skin.

“Dean? Even though we both reached orgasm--”

“Came, Cas. We both came.”

“--even though we both came, I find my desire to touch you hasn't subsided.”

Ignoring the warm fluttering that flared up in his belly, Dean shrugged and said, “No reason you have to stop. But wait, hang on...”

Dean rolled off the bed and lifted the covers, sliding back in beneath them. He gave Cas's hip a push so he'd stand up, then flipped back the covers on that side.

“Come on, get in,” he encouraged.

Slipping into the narrow bed beside Dean, Cas tried to get comfortable, but clearly had no idea what he was doing. Dean took pity on him and pulled him close with an arm around his shoulders. Cas seemed to get the idea, hitching one knee over to twine their legs together, but he didn't settle down. Instead he propped up on one elbow to stare at Dean some more.

Cas reached up to trace his fingers delicately over the lines of Dean's face, his expression filled with tenderness. “You are so beautiful,” he breathed.

Making a face, Dean snorted. “Shut up. No, I'm not.”

“You are beautiful,” Cas repeated.


“You are.”

“Cas...” Dean groaned in exasperation, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

Narrowing his eyes, Cas said, “You are aware of how attractive you are.”

Dean shrugged self-consciously. “I don't know. I guess?” He knew perfectly well people found him good looking. It was a huge part of how he did his freaking job – people were easy to charm and cajole into cooperating when they found him attractive. But it's not like he could help what he looked like, and it didn't mean a damn thing anyway, except he inherited good genes.

Cupping his jaw, Cas forced him to meet his eyes. “I'm talking about more than your face, Dean. You are beautiful. Yes, your body is perfection, but I'm referring to you. Who you are as a person. Dean, your soul is so bright and so pure – you're utterly breathtaking in your beauty.”

And the thing was, Dean could tell that he meant it. The truth of it was right there on his face. Despite how badly Dean had fucked up his life and the whole goddamn world, Cas still saw him as someone beautiful and good. As someone to love.

Cas loved him. Just as he was.

Awesome or not.