Cas knew Dean. He knew the rough exterior he always wore was just that... something to show to everyone else. To prove he was tough enough to take on anything. To take on the world. Yes, he knew Dean. He knew how Dean would kiss his knuckles before running them across Cas’ cheek. How he’d stick his fingers in Cas’ mouth, just to ease the burning desire he felt. He knew how he’d lick the blood off Cas’ bruised lips as he kissed them and how he’d die for Cas, even if it weren’t asked. But he was ready for something else.
He wanted that troubled boy… that hardened man in his bed. He wanted to see the fire in his eyes as he took without asking. The man who could kill an angel with his eyed closed to run his rough hands down his body. He wanted to feel the rush of fear it could cause. He wanted a menace in his bed. Raw, hard, and violent, just like the world saw Dean. Cas wanted to see their shadows on the wall do a dance they’d not yet performed. But he knew he never would. Because Dean thought he knew him, and Cas knew he’d never ask.