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~ooooOOOoooo~
”Felt good, didn’t it? Taking that swing at me?”
Voice like nails on slate. Like metal shearing bone. Pain. Unceasing pain, unflinching depravity. Sadism at its blackest depth. Alastair stared back at him, dead eyes bright.
*No… no, he’s dead. Sammy killed him…*
“Clumsy, though. Ham-fisted. You’re so much better than that, Dean…”
A cloak settling around his shoulders. Like an Inquisitor’s from centuries past. The rack awaited him, a fresh victim splayed across it.
Bela had been the first. He’d requested her. Wanted her to see what her cowardice had done to them both. The fear. The pleas. The screaming. He’d gone slow. Deliberately reveling in every tiny slip of skin as he parted it from muscle and bone… the way her flesh had parted so easily beneath the razor’s edge…
Walker. Dean didn’t remember how many had come before or after, but this bastard had tried to kill Sam and Dean wanted to make him pay for it. Even if he’d been more right than Dean could possibly have guessed at the time…
So many others… some he knew. Others he didn’t. All shrieking and begging and slowly shredding apart under his blades…
“My best pupil… I could train a thousand that would never have your potential…” Hands like ice, touching him with cruel familiarity. Those hands knew every part of him, had taken what they wanted and shaped him into a creature of darkness… darker than Sam had ever been… could ever be… “I have a gift for you.”
Those hands pressed him forward, towards the tools carefully arranged, all polished to insidious gleaming, reflecting his darkening eyes. No longer bright viridian, but leaves of trees on a moonless night, deepening by the day. “Something truly… unique. Just like you…”
Midnight wings spread wide, locked down with razor wire. Skin of gleaming alabaster, bright as the harvest moon. A voice that refused to beg, raging instead, the sound like every song ever sung, every note ever played. Eyes blazing with the fury of God, as blue as lapis polished by the Nile…
“Thank you, Alastair.” A saw-toothed blade came to his hand first as he closed on the creature of light caged and arrayed for his pleasure… his eyes dimmed, turning black as pitch as he dragged the knife along those midnight wings, shearing feather and muscle to the bone and drawing forth a scream like shattering cathedral spires that echoed through every corner of Hell…
* * *
Dean woke screaming.
Castiel was there, sliding across his lap, catching Dean’s face in his hands and calling Dean’s name. Grace pulsed at him, a soothing ebb against the rocky cliffs of his panic, blue eyes locked with huge, unseeing blue-green.
The nightmare faded, slow as lava oozing back into a fissure. Dean shook uncontrollably, finally closing his eyes and leaning into Castiel’s solid, immovable strength. “It didn’t happen,” Cas assured him, voice quiet and warm. “It wasn’t real, Dean. We got you out… I got you out… beloved… it was just a nightmare…”
Words penetrated the fog of sleep and terror, seeping through Dean’s mind and washing the memory-dream away. I would’ve… if things had gone different, I would’ve…
*It doesn’t matter, Dean. I would have found a way to save you, no matter what you did. But it did not happen. You’re safe, beloved, and you will never again return to that place. I won’t allow it.
Slowly, Dean lifted his head. Focused on those lapis eyes. They were so calm… steady and serious and unyielding…
Dean hadn’t realized he was leaning in until their lips slotted together, a low gasp passing from Castiel’s mouth into his own. Dean moaned softly, hands sinking up into Castiel’s hair and sealing him closer, deepening the contact… his tongue slid across Castiel’s, tangled and teased it, tasting starlight and eternity as he mapped his angel’s mouth.
He wasn’t conscious of rolling them down, of laying Castiel out beneath his weight and tracing the curve of that stubborn jaw with his lips. Long fingers wound into his hair as Dean stopped thinking. Stopped questioning. He couldn’t see Jimmy Novak in those too-blue eyes, couldn’t feel the human in the skin he bared or hear him in the throaty moans his kisses drew out.
Only Castiel, molding up into his touch, reveling in the way Dean finally relinquished his hesitancy to accept the comfort Cas offered. Overjoyed at how Dean surrendered to the driving need to feel Castiel yielding beneath him.
And Castiel did yield as Dean’s lips trailed soft pathways over his skin, worshipping the long, pale, untainted lines. Where Castiel operated on borrowed knowledge and intuition, Dean had experience on his side. And Castiel abandoned himself to it; let himself be helpless in the face of it. Surrendering unreservedly to his mate’s desires.
Gentle kisses, so slow and careful, sipping over Cas’ skin in the wake of his callused hands. Light as feathers, hints of sensation, until Castiel panted out breath he didn’t need in anticipation of where the next touch would fall.
Fingertips skimming the lean planes of his body, easily locating sensitive places that seemed tied directly to his hardening arousal. Careful. So achingly careful. Spurred by the dream, Dean was absolving himself in Castiel’s flesh, with caresses so tender that the angel could have wept, pressing up into Dean’s weight as the torment became nearly unbearable… “Dean… beloved… beloved, please…”
“I got you, Cas…” Dean smiled against his mate’s pectoral, indulging in a light suckle on the delicate flesh just above Castiel’s heart. Cas’ hands sank into his hair, legs tangling with Dean’s as he arched his hips. Dean groaned and ground down into Cas, the heavy drag of skin against skin sparking heat through his veins. “Impatient…”
“For you, always.” Castiel’s eyes opened, watching Dean’s head as it sank lower along Cas’ body. “Dean…”
“Yeah, Cas?” Dean’s breath curled hot across Castiel’s stomach; he smiled as Castiel’s muscles twitched and leaped in response, dipping closer to worry the sensitive flesh with his teeth. The mark vanished almost as soon as he made it; it made Dean growl softly, that he bore Castiel’s marks, two permanently and others for days at a time, while he could leave none of his own. He wanted something tangible. Something that meant the angel was tied to him as surely as he was tied to Castiel.
His lips just brushed the already-weeping tip of Castiel’s arousal and those tapered hips bucked reflexively towards the warmth of his mouth. Dean grinned, his irritation fleeting and forgotten. There was more than one way to leave a mark.
The bottle of lube had been lost in the sheets before they’d finally slept; Cas had spent what felt like hours with the apparent ultimate goal of wearing Dean out, working him through adrenaline and nerves and stress until he’d been too exhausted to stay awake. Dean teased Cas’ sensitive knees with wet, suckling kisses while he found it, returning to the apex of those deceptively strong thighs, leaving a trail of whispers that had Castiel twitching, elegant fingers digging into the sheets.
Light, cool breath, exhaled slow against hot skin. Castiel made a broken sound in his throat, hips yearning up in a slow undulation towards Dean’s mouth. The first touch of Dean’s tongue had Castiel gasping, keening Dean’s name as it traced a slow, methodical path along the base.
Dean couldn’t help watching, flickering glances through hooded eyes as he learned every nuance. Every pulse point he could reach. Salt and musk and man, stardust and wind and eternity. Castiel was an immortal anchored in living flesh, able to feel mortal pleasures with senses beyond ordinary men. And Dean wanted to light up every one.
He lapped at the pearlescent saline droplets as they slipped in chaotic paths towards his tongue; Dean almost laughed as the viscous fluid brushed across his face, catching in the brief stubble along his jaw. It should have been a turn-off. It had been before, in another time, another life. But he didn’t care now. This was Cas. His mate. His angel. He could be as dirty wanton filthy as he wanted; it was safe to be, to let go inhibitions.
One finger slid up inside the tight ring of muscle as his lips wrapped around the hood; Castiel’s hips jerked harder into Dean’s mouth, stuttering gasps and unrestrained moans echoing in the darkness. Cas didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to; didn’t realize most lovers would apologize for the impulsive action. Dean just relaxed his throat, years of rough drinking having worn at his gag reflex, and let Cas thrust up into his mouth as he worked slick fingers into untried muscle.
His angel didn’t feel pain the way he did. Was used to ignoring discomfort. Dean still wanted him relaxed and distracted, and there was an oddly comforting note to the weight of Castiel’s need against his tongue, the tiny spurts of salt in his throat when he scissored his fingers just right. No one had ever pleasured his mate this way. No one else ever would, if Dean had any say in the matter. And even if he didn’t, Cas would never forget this. Would never forget him.
I could never forget you. Even Castiel’s voice in his mind was edged and reedy and aching. You are a part of me… oh, beloved, please…
What do you want, Cas? Dean swirled his tongue and worked his fingers deeper, drawing something close to a wail from Castiel’s lips. You want me to make you come, just like this? I could. Could take you so high… get you off just with my fingers… let you fuck my hot, wet mouth until you can’t hold back anymore and come right down my throat… His fingers curled, seeking, finding… Castiel’s hips jolted against his mouth as he cried out; Dean could feel the starburst along the bond… lost himself in the sensation echoes… nothing in Heaven or Hell had ever felt like this…
Please, beloved… Castiel’s hands found him, pulling at him, pleading… Please…
Dean couldn’t refuse him. Dean had never been able to deny Cas anything. He’d tortured Alastair for Cas, reaching back into places within himself that he’d tried desperately to close out and purge and box away. If it had been Cas asking and not Zachariah, Dean might actually have become Michael’s Vessel… or at least considered it far more strenuously. But what Cas wanted from him now was a very different brand of possession.
Slim, strong thighs slid around his waist as he practically slithered up Castiel’s body, his mouth never leaving his mate’s skin. Cas wound around him as Dean found his lips, drawing Dean impossibly closer, as if it was Dean alone that anchored him in his flesh. Impossibly soft lips, cool and dry from too long between kisses, molded to his own in voracious demand… swallowing his groan as arousal slid against arousal, heavy and saliva-slick and achingly hard… lust blasting through his brain almost had Dean missing the anxiety roiling under his angel’s surface…
Almost.
The urgency fled his limbs, control returning to desire that had been flaring unchecked. It was easy to forget that Cas was new to this, when his touches seemed so confident and the way he rocked into Dean was so perfectly controlled. Easy to lose himself in the feel of those hands on his body, the taste of worshipful kisses and the warmth of gentle possession. So easy that Dean had missed it, or ignored the subtle signs.
Castiel whimpered into Dean’s mouth, undulating his hips against Dean’s; Dean caught them in his hands, amazed that somehow his mate fit perfectly into the cup of his palms and curve of his fingers. Slowly as he dared, he shifted and pressed, snubbing inside the tight heat of Castiel’s body.
His angel gasped. Dean wouldn’t let his mouth free, holding Cas’ lips hostage with his own. Slow and careful, he dipped in, then pulled back; tiny, even strokes that had Castiel whimpering and panting and pressing up into him, desperate for more and only then did Dean give it to him, sliding just a fraction deeper with every gentle push. Cas was opening for him with every slide, fingers clutching at sweat-slick skin and voice pleading with wordless sounds as Dean rocked inside him, slow and deliberate, memorizing the way Castiel’s body welcomed him home.
Home was here, right here in Castiel’s arms, finally buried as deep as he could get and pausing to let Cas catch breath he didn’t need, to savor the way tight muscle gripped and pulsed around him. To take the moment, knowing it wasn’t fleeting like so many had been, knowing he didn’t have to leave Cas in the morning.
Cas was his soulmate. His perfect fit. His forever. He didn’t have to let this go.
His lips left Castiel’s almost reluctantly, gliding gently down along the stubborn curve of the angel’s jaw. Dean smiled when Cas arched under him with something very close to a whine, impatient again, long, elegant fingers pulling at his back. He’d have bruises that looked like zebra stripes in the morning; Dean was sure of it. He couldn’t bring himself to care very much. “Easy, Cas… slow and easy the first time.”
The angel’s eyes narrowed for the barest second, and then his hand slotted up onto the brand he’d left on Dean’s shoulder. Dean let out a gasp of his own as sensation poured through: need and want and emptiness and hope and fear and finally, finally full and deep and accepted and loved and it was important… important in ways Dean never could have guessed and he’d caught a glimpse of it before but not like this…
He didn’t know his hips snapped back and drove deep until he felt Castiel’s sigh against his collarbone. His angel was kissing his skin, mouthing the tattoo, clinging with every fiber of strength he dared bring to bear as Dean claimed him back at last, at lastthankyouFatheratlast… it overwhelmed him, burned through him, until his mind could only form the barest connection between impulses…
Dragging out slow, letting Cas feel every inch as it receded, drinking in the gasping little cries that punctuated each breath…
Surging back, the cries elongating into moans, lapis eyes shuttering closed and rolling back as hips met and pressure crested against the sensitive nub deep inside…
Perfect… greedy slick grip of muscle and slip-drag of flesh on flesh and lust-blown blue eyes that stared up at him in wonder… wonder that they’d ever not been doing this… that they could possibly have left this so long, too long, when they could have been like this right from the start… wonder that it could feel like grace… like Heaven… like home…
“Castiel…” The name rolled up out of his throat in a groan when those hips twisted and the clutch of the angel’s body tightened just enough… Dean’s weight hit his forearms and his hips jarred harder, stuttered before finding their pace again, faster, almost as if to race with his own heartbeat…
The effect on Cas was electrifying. He arched up harder, muttering and gasping in Enochian, a litany surrounding Dean’s name that was filthy just from the wrecked gravel tone of Castiel’s voice… Dean wanted to slow down, take longer to pull those exquisite sounds out of his angel, but Castiel was writhing and all but clawing at him and Dean’s body had other ideas just now…
Desperate to hold back long enough, refusing to acknowledge the tight coil of heat pooling at the base of his spine, Dean’s right hand found Castiel’s and caught it, pinned it at the wrist, tongue curling around each finger as he buried his length in his mate and stayed there, rolling his hips slow and hard and not letting up the pressure on Cas’ prostate until Cas was near to screaming from the fiery shocks under his skin, through his grace… his right hand found Dean’s shoulder and the currents of grace shot full circle… Dean couldn’t stop himself from slamming deep, deeper than he thought he could go, rhythm broken and artless and little more than their bodies crashing and crushing together, their names dropping from each other’s lips between frenetic kisses like prayers…
“Come for me…” Dean didn’t know how he found the words… only knew he couldn’t hold on any longer… “Castiel… now…”
Dean’s name howled past Castiel’s lips as his body locked, clamping down on Dean tight as a vise as release spilled out of him, triggering a shockwave of grace that rattled the windowpanes. The sight caught Dean almost off guard, his own orgasm wrenching out of him and leaving him blissfully wrung out against his mate.
Long, silent heartbeats. Castiel’s legs slid almost numbly down from Dean’s waist, tangling around Dean’s thighs. Dean was still clutching Castiel’s wrist, breath slowing, unable to stop his lips from autonomously leaning in to taste the warm salt musk of Castiel’s sex-flushed skin. Finally, Dean had to will his eyes to open, to look down at the beautiful, wanton angel under him. As if sensing it, Castiel looked up, meeting his gaze with blue eyes so open and defenseless that Dean couldn’t keep from kissing them, feeling the flutter of those delicate lashes against his lips. “I love you.”
“And I you.” Castiel’s free hand almost reflexively stroked the sleek muscles of Dean’s arm, his eyes searching Dean’s. He didn’t know what had held Dean back. He didn’t want to ask what had changed, to say something that would change Dean’s mind back…
Dean felt the ebb and throb of Cas’ emotions, wanted to wash them away. Mornings were the time for second-guesses, and Dean was sure they had hours until dawn. In the bright light of day, they could talk all they wanted.
Shadow and starlight still hovered in the sky, and Dean didn’t want to think about anything but the way his mate’s body fit so perfectly against his own. Didn’t want to go back to sleep, for fear of feverish nightmare visions of carving apart flesh that felt like satin under his fingertips. Didn’t want to do anything but this, because the world was ending, and they were running out of chances.
“I love you.” The words seemed to come too easy, after a lifetime of refusing to say them to anyone. But they lit something up inside Castiel, something that spilled over into Dean and tasted like honeycomb warm from the summer sun, felt like the lazy buzz of beer and sunlight perched on the hood of the Impala overlooking a mountain lake.
Joy. His soul’s mate in his arms, naked and sex-mussed and happy. Whispering ‘I love you’ back in that crushed velvet voice that never failed to stir arousal in his veins no matter what it said. This was joy.
Dean rolled with his mate, pulling Castiel until the angel was on top, hips still fitted flush against his own. Cas let out a soft gasp as Dean hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him down, the tight angle of Dean half-hard inside him creating lightening-hot friction as Dean’s open mouth captured his. “Mine,” Dean murmured, voice thick and almost rasping. “You’re mine, Castiel…”
“Yes.” The angel rolled his hips experimentally, his palms bracing flat against Dean’s chest as Cas sent frissons of grace shivering across Dean’s nerves. Dean went hard again with a cry, his eyes shuttering closed. “I am.”