Archive of Our Own

Cas doesn’t notice when the door opens, but neither does Dean. The creak must coincide with a breathy exhale—or maybe the ringing in their ears is too loud; they’re both very focused, after all.

Cas has his eyes shut and his head thrown back, lying tense on Dean’s memory foam mattress. Between his legs, Dean is busy, head bobbing. They fill the room with the wet noise of pleasure.

His breath hitches as he curls his arms around himself for comfort, pressing his breasts upwards. He’s still not used to them. Nor is he used to the feeling of a tongue dragging itself upon his genitals. Although this has become almost routine by now.

It’s impossible to keep track, but he thinks he can feel three of Dean’s fingers curled inside him, stroking in a rhythm that makes him pant. One of his legs rests over Dean’s shoulder, calf pressed against his back so that every shift and shudder ripples through the both of them. Whenever a particularly hard jolt of pleasure shoots through him, his leg bends to pull Dean closer. Still, he never speeds up. They’ve learned that drawing it out keeps him calm.

The bed they’re on is rocking in small waves. While Dean buries his face between Cas’ thighs, he’s also grinding his own hips down into the mattress, frustrated. His pants stay on, never even unbuttoned, like he can’t stand the temptation of having less clothing. Less of a barrier between what he wants and what he shouldn’t have.

Cas hears a throat being cleared, distantly. It takes him a moment to remember that it couldn’t be Dean making that noise, since his mouth is otherwise occupied.

He cracks open his eyes, turning his head to face the door. Dean’s mouth doesn’t pause, but Cas still tries to put all of his focus on Sam, who’s standing in the doorway. He makes an effort to shake away the hazy feeling he’s had all morning, since being awoken by desperate hands and a forceful tongue.

Sam has his gaze averted politely, but his expression is troubled. His hands grip the frame of the door as he clears his throat again, unsure if he has their attention.

“What–” Cas has to clear his own throat before he can continue. Dean’s tongue swirls, almost stealing his words. After a second, Cas asks, “What is it, Sam?”

His voice sounds timid, vulnerable. It’s mainly from the change in vocal cords—not to mention the constant barrage of moaning—but it doesn’t stop Sam or his brother from being just a little more protective.

Cas grunts a little when Dean shifts up so that he can press closer, his mouth starting to nip at him now. A warning.

Sam doesn’t step into the room. He knows better. Instead, he holds the conversation from just outside, “Did you need anything, Cas? Water? A towel?” He sounds guilty.

A small grumbling noise turns into a growl. Dean doesn’t like it when Sam tries to take care of Cas. As if it would lead into other things, things like the throbbing between his legs being handled by some other tongue.

Cas tries to put as much sincerity into his words as he can, ignoring the small vibrations from Dean growling against him, “I’m fine.” It’s not your fault.

Sam blames himself for not protecting Cas from his brother. He’s conflicted, the same way Cas is, that stopping Dean is the same as hurting him. And Cas is fine, truly. He doesn’t mind what Dean does to him, as long as he is content and in control of himself.

There are limits to what Cas should allow if he wants to survive this. These limits are what Dean struggles against, what he would never forgive himself for doing. So, he busies himself in other ways, and Cas just supports him the best he can. The jolts of pleasure running through him are just a bonus, really.

“Dean…” Sam’s expression is heading quickly towards helplessness.

Dean gives a particularly rough lick, his entire head moving from bottom to top. His fingers curl with the movement, going deeper and rubbing internally. Cas’ legs squirm and he bites his tongue to cut off the beginning of a whimper, if only for Sam’s sake.

Dean tears his head away, his hand adjusting so that his thumb can start circling Cas’ clit. He shudders with the change.

“What do you want?” Dean’s eyes flicker gold in warning. Cas slides his leg off his shoulder and back onto the bed, knee bent to block Sam’s view of what his brother’s hand is doing.

The holy fire that surrounds the room lights Sam’s face from the bottom, his grimace prominent. Cas tries to focus on their words, but his hips have started to circle with Dean’s hand, slowly building towards an orgasm. Dean doesn’t seem to notice, not speeding up or pressing any harder.

“… research. We could use Cas for this. At least let him stretch out his legs, get some fresh air.”

A snort. “No way.”

“You can’t just lock him in here, Dean!” Sam snaps.

Dean’s voice is bitter in reply. “He’s not safe out there.”

Cas squirms, legs parting further. Dean’s hand has started to slow down, distracted. But it doesn’t stop.

“What do you think’s gonna happen, huh? You’re the one doing this to him.”

“He’s fine.” Round and round his thumb goes, driving Cas mad with its pace. “I have this under control.”

“No! You don’t!” Sam runs his hands through his hair, frustrated. “Do you even realize what you’re doing?”

Cas covers Dean’s hand with his own. He’s not trying to stop him; he doesn’t want Dean to be in pain from holding back. But Cas finds a small comfort in feeling Dean’s muscles work to get him off and wants to show him—both of them—that he truly doesn’t mind.

“I’m keeping him safe.” He starts to get rougher, thumb pressing down and flattening Cas’ clit as he rubs achingly slow. His irritation at his brother is clear.

“Do you even hear yourself? Cas didn’t ask for this!”

Cas’ legs jerk, thighs clamping around their hands, hiding them from view while simultaneously gaining more friction. Dean doesn’t seem to notice. Cas is starting to sweat from holding his muscles so tense. His back arches, trying to press up further. At the same time, he pushes both of their hands down. This succeeds in gaining more pressure, but Dean stubbornly doesn’t help with speed.

“Did you want something, or did you only come in here to bitch?”

“I’m checking up on Cas! Making sure he’s okay, since you’ve been–” Sam can’t bring himself to say it.

“He’s fine,” Dean repeats. “I’m giving him everything he needs.”

Cas almost interrupts them. What he really needs is for Dean to go faster since he’s reached his limit on harder. But he bites his tongue. Dean has never left him wanting. In fact, sometimes he doesn’t stop. Still, Cas circles his hips, thrusting against his hand to encourage him. He’s practically seeking his own release, just using Dean’s hand instead of his own. He wonders if he can gain enough leverage to flip himself over and find his own end, rutting against Dean’s hand underneath him.

Then the brothers are off again, arguing back and forth. Sam’s argument would be more valid if Cas was showing even a hint of resistance. But Cas won’t shame Dean that way. He couldn’t.

Eventually, Dean turns away, no longer listening. While he busies himself with shoving Cas’ thighs wide open and burying his head between them once more, Sam finally makes eye contact with Cas.

Cas knows he must look a mess; he’s completely nude and panting. The unfamiliar feel of his breasts heave upwards with every breath. His hair clings to his back and shoulders, stuck there by sweat.

Sam’s eyes scream an apology. He glances briefly at the holy fire surrounding the room, burning low to the floor. Cas shakes his head slowly, disguising it as the natural rocking that has begun since Dean has started his rough licking again. His fingers—three of them, surely—have slid back inside but abandoned their rubbing in favor of thrusting in and out.

Cas knows it’s pointless to try to escape, not that he needs to in the first place. He’s the only thing stopping Dean from wreaking havoc or hurting himself. He’s keeping Dean safe, just as Dean is under the impression that he’s keeping Cas safe.

Cas gives Sam a hard look, hoping to convey what they had discussed before. Dean doesn’t need an intervention; he needs a cure. They both do.

Sam nods once before taking his leave.

The door shuts with a soft click just as Cas’ hips roll up involuntarily. With the perceived threat gone, Dean’s shoulders relax minutely. His whole body does. Until it feels less like he’s attacking him with his tongue and more like he’s lazily dragging the pleasure out.

Cas wishes—in that should never happen kind of way—that this is the side of Dean his brother could see. He’s sure that Sam imagines terrible things taking place between them when he’s not around to stop it, but it’s ironically just the opposite. Dean is only unbearable when he thinks they’ll be separated from each other.

“Dean,” Cas breathes, running his fingers through his hair. He thinks about what he could say, but just repeats, “Dean.”

Dean makes a noise, a sort-of questioning sound in the back of his throat. He pulls his head away once more, sitting back on his heels and letting his hand do the work. In a gentle voice that makes Cas’ stomach flutter, he asks, “You okay, Cas?”

Cas finds himself smiling a little. “I’m fine. Your brother–” he inhales sharply when Dean’s fingers enter him. He had been slowly moving them back and forth, but now he’s thrusting them all the way in, then crooking them before dragging them all the way out.

Dean’s other hand comes forward to rest on Cas’ lower abdomen, pressing gently. He keeps it there, a calming weight moving with each breath taken. The contrast makes it hard for Cas to think, but Dean prompts him with a hum.

Cas shifts his legs wider, so that Dean has room to get close. “Sam is only trying to help.”

A muscle ticks in Dean’s jaw as he grits his teeth. After a controlled breath and a couple of harsher plunges, he says, “Yeah, well, he’s not.”

Cas shakes his head, then tries again, “He doesn’t understand. He’s just–Ah. Dean.” Dean doesn’t even pretend to let Cas finish his sentence. He’s moving too much. His eyes study Cas’ form as he squirms underneath him, making sure he’s not in any pain but also not slowing down enough for Cas’ opinion to form.

“He’s just so stupid,” Dean rants, fingers thrusting so roughly that Cas is bouncing, bed hitting the wall. Cas’ mouth is open in a silent cry, holding his hips still so that Dean can make even more of an impact on him. “I mean, did you hear him?”

“Mm-hmm,” Cas moans in agreement, not entirely listening. He arches his back a little until Dean’s fingers are jabbing right into his sweet spot. His toes curl against the sheets and he pants out a little whine.

“He wants you to go outside. Outside! Like there won’t be fifty guys lining up trying to get into your pants the second they get a look at you.” His eyes grow gold once more, pupils eclipsed by the shimmering spell.

Overwhelmed, Cas just nods and keeps nodding. They’ve had this argument before, plenty of times, and the outcome stays the same. Dean will make sure no one lays a hand on him—except for Dean himself.

He slows down after a minute and the hand on his stomach rubs apologetically. “I’m getting too excited,” He murmurs. “C’mere, let’s finish you off.”

After pulling his hands away, Dean adjusts his pillows so that he’s laying more comfortably, then leans down and places a kiss on his stomach. Cas breathes.

Dean gives him a second, waiting until he’s relaxed some more before he slowly trails his kisses lower and lower. Then he’s back where they started.

“We’ll fix this. It won’t be this way forever,” Cas’ words slur a bit, but the meaning comes through. Dean nuzzles at him in answer.

A couple minutes later, a loud moan breaks free from his mouth, and he feels Dean’s lips curl into a pleased smile. Cas isn’t usually very vocal, but he’s close now after being on edge. His mouth opens with his pants, throwing his head back slightly to stare at the ceiling. He hooks his feet around Dean’s shoulders, feeling his thighs start to quiver. Dean’s finger thrust faster, his tongue centering itself on his clit. Cas feels himself building and building.

His hips buck up, which dislodges Dean for a second, but only for him to dive back in harder. Instead of holding him down, he moves his head with Cas’ hips, finding their rhythm. Cas doesn’t bother holding back any of his cries, which Dean seems to enjoy.

“Dean, please,” his head thrashes against the pillow, too close. He can feel his long hair bunch up and tangle beneath his head, which he’ll have to worry about later. There’s a drag against his clit once, twice, and then he’s finally coming undone. His back arches, pressing fully into the hunter. He’s stiff, tensing and whimpering as Dean rides it out with him, never stopping his movements.

Then Cas falls slack, a shudder running through his body. Dean’s tongue gentles, moving against him softly and avoiding his oversensitive clit while his fingers bend, almost scraping. Cleanup time.

After a minute where Cas just lies there, dazed with his eyes half-closed, Dean pulls away. He reaches down and grabs a washcloth, taking a moment to clean Cas up with an old bottle of water. When he’s satisfied that Cas is clean enough, he shifts and crawls up, leveling his head with Cas’ chest.

They watch each other through their lashes. Dean’s eyes are back to their normal green and his breathing is calm. He rests his chin down, tilting his head as if he intends to use his breast as a pillow.

Cas brings his hand up to his face, stroking tiredly at the rough patch near his ear where Dean had yet to shave. Dean’s eyes soften at the touch. “Was that okay?”

Cas feels adoration flow through him at the question. He wishes he could hear Dean’s voice more often, but Dean has a slight obsession with his mouth of his body. Cas nods, then asks, “What about you? Any pain?”

“Jus’ the usual.” It comes out in a slurred voice, his eyes already starting to droop from all the energy used.

“Here,” Cas reaches over, grabbing a new water bottle and pressing it into Dean’s hand. “You should stay hydrated.”

Dean hums. “I don’t think that’s a problem.” Still, he takes the bottle and drinks. Then he presses it against Cas’ lips. “Your turn.”

Cas feels his face warm as he opens his mouth. It’s an odd reaction, especially compared to what they had just been doing, but despite all of this, Dean has still yet to kiss him. Forced adoration is one thing, but this gentle affection is all Dean.

He drinks the rest of the water. Normally, drinking water is unnecessary, but this change in form has rendered him practically human again. He can still feel his grace, but he can’t access it.

Dean sets the bottle aside before pulling himself up higher onto the bed, so that he’s level with Cas completely. He curls around him, sighing tiredly into his hair. “We should get some rest. I don’t think the urge will hit again for a couple more hours.”

Cas’ eyes are already closing, “Okay, Dean.” He feels the press of an erection against his hip, but Dean simply nudges closer and kisses below his ear.

Cas drifts off, praying that this will be over soon. He’s not sure how much more of this Dean can take.

It had started out, as most things do, with a hunt.

“Couples going missing?” Dean asks around his burger. “A classic.”

Sam gives him a look over his laptop. Cas can’t tell if it’s because of the careless comment or the food. He shakes his head. “Yeah, and it looks like the same thing happened about ten months ago. Five couples just up and vanished.”

Cas hovers over his shoulder, reading. “Not all of them were locals.”

Sam turns to him. “Right. There also weren’t any witnesses. It’s like they all got into their car, drove off, and never came home. Vehicles are a dead end, too. Those were never found.”

“Any news of where the couples were headed? Or where they were seen last?”

“Yeah,” Sam scoffs, then begins studying the screen, “Two of the couples were heading to a drive-in movie theater. They were witnessed there, but no sign of them afterwards.”

“Awesome,” Dean pipes up, “What movie?”

Sam shakes his head. “They switch them out. They probably didn’t see the same one. Different days of the week, too.”

“Well, what movie are they playing tonight?”

Sam sighs, typing in something for a moment before replying, “Weird Science.”

Dean leans over to elbow Cas in the side, grin prominent and teasing, “Aww, you’re gonna love this. They build a woman.”

It was straightforward at first. They drove in, questioned some regulars while Dean ordered food from the food carts parked on the perimeter. Then they waited for something to happen.

But nothing did. Only a few cars showed up after them, so they kept an eye out while the movie played. Cas ended up resting on the hood of the Impala with Dean, watching silently as the two boys on screen struggle with their repressed emotions and their strange, magical woman. Sam left them to circle the lot, checking in with the staff.

Dean groans as he stretches. Cas finds himself watching the rise of his shirt, the skin peeking through, before Dean puts his arms back down and turns to him.

Cas trails his gaze back up to meet his eyes. They stare for a moment, until Cas says, “This movie is a metaphor for God and the fall of Lucifer.”

Dean sputters a little, but his eyes light up in the way that they only do when Cas gets something wrong in a humorous manner. So, Cas continues, “They created something that they don’t know what to do with. I can only assume that this woman will go on to do something they don’t approve of, and they will cast her out.”

“Hey, hey, don’t go predicting the ending. That’s not how it technically happens.”

“Apologies,” Cas says, squinting at the screen before turning back to Dean, “I can see how it appeals to you, though.” At Dean’s look, he gestures, “The boys have wants similar to yours. Bars, cars, and women.”

Dean laughs, “Well, that–that’s just…”

Cas smiles at Dean’s enjoyment. Making Dean laugh is almost always an accident on Cas’ part, but it still manages to make them both happy.

While Dean pokes fun at him, then the movie, Cas casts his gaze around. There really is nothing going on. Everyone there seems normal, and he can’t sense anything off. He studies each car and each person in turn, looking for a clue.

His eyes stick to a couple that appears to be battling in the front seat of their car. He sits up, mouth parting to warn Dean, before he sees the guy on the right tilt his head back, nose ring gleaming from the flickering movie. What at first appears to be anguish on the blond man’s face breaks way into pleasure and Cas realizes where the other guy’s hand is a second later.

He slumps back down, and the moment passes. His gaze trails past them to give them their privacy and he ends up settling back on Dean, who’s watching the film with such joy on his face that Cas feels a tugging in his heart.

He’s not sure what his expression looks like when Dean turns back to him, but it’s strange enough that Dean blinks before looking down, flustered. He fiddles with the EMF reader, but it hasn’t lit up all night.

Dean looks like he’s bracing himself for something. Then, he turns with a determined expression on his face and starts, “Hey, um, Cas. Did you want–?”

While Cas keeps his eyes earnest, he can’t help when they slide past Dean to the movement behind him. Dean must sense something because he cuts his own words off. He turns to watch Sam make the rest of the way towards them.

Dean’s voice is gruff when he asks, “Anything?” It almost sounds impatient, or perhaps fed up. Cas had thought he was enjoying himself, but maybe he had read that wrong.

Sam shakes his head. “No. It looks like whatever happened definitely took place after the couples left. There’s not a hint of anything supernatural here.”

Dean waves his hand, “Maybe it’s–y’know, a regular stalker. Human.”

“I thought the same thing, but,” Sam looks around with a sweeping gesture, “None of these people are repeats and the staff seems clean.”

Dean screws up his face. “It has to be the workers. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“They stay for clean-up, after. I guess we can watch the place, see who leaves first and where they go.”

Cas leans forward to see Sam around Dean. “Does that mean we can finish the movie?”

Sam gives him a small smile and Dean turns to give him a wider grin. “I told you you’d like it.”

Cas had gotten more enjoyment out of Dean liking it, but he supposes that was the same thing. He settles back to watch the movie once more, confused at the scenes he had missed. Dean is more than happy to fill him in, and Sam mutters something about being glad they were at the back of the lot and not disturbing anyone.

When it’s over, the screen grows dark with the credits. Like an unspoken signal, everyone starts to chat and move around, throwing their trash away and climbing into their cars. Cas slides off the Impala along with Dean and they slowly get into their own vehicle.

They sit there for a while, waiting for everyone to drive off first.

Dean starts to complain about the waste of time, mouth curled up to show that he doesn’t actually mind, but Sam interrupts him. “Maybe we should have set up bait instead. There weren’t a lot of couples here, just groups of friends. When the others went missing, they were the only ones in the car at the time.”

“There was a couple,” Cas corrects. “The blue car two ahead of us had one. They were fondling each other halfway through the film.”

“Cas, I didn’t know you were a voyeur. How long were you staring at them for?” Dean sneers.

Sam thinks, then asks, “Cas, are you talking about the two boys?”

Dean’s smile drops a little. “Oh.”

“Yes,” Cas confirms. “There was another couple, but they were in a group, so I don’t think they’d be targeted.” He doesn’t explain that the only reason he knows they were a couple was because they had kissed. Human relationships are a hard thing to grasp.

Dean starts the car, the familiar rumble coming to life. The headlights flash across the parking lot, and they get in the queue of other cars attempting to leave the place. Only by coincidence do they end up behind the blue truck where the two boys are.

“Should we follow them?” Cas asks, but the Impala is already turning in the wrong direction, heading right when the other car turns left.

Sam shakes his head. “None of the couples taken were of the same sex and we haven’t seen any indication of what would take them in the first place. We’re better off scoping out the area, seeing if we can find anything of interest. We’ll come back tomorrow, hopefully with better bait.”

Dean taps the steering wheel. “Who are we asking to pretend to be my girlfriend?”

Sam wrinkles his nose. “Why does it have to be you as the other half?”

Dean brushes him off, explaining something about having experience. Sam counters that he would be better, since he’s actually dated before and not just ‘hooked up with everyone.’

Cas doesn’t listen to their argument further, too busy watching the taillight of the other car get further and further away. He wonders if they should have followed it, after all.

Under his breath, he mutters a small phrase in Enochian, but neither brother hears him.

The next day, he’s proven right. The couple never made it home, and both Sam and Dean beat themselves up for not taking them into consideration.

They start to finalize a plan of bait again, debating on the moral dilemma of picking up a random lady at the bar in town or waiting a couple of days for a female hunter to come in, but Cas interrupts them before they plan any further.

“I have secured the location of the vehicle.”

He sits on the floor of the bunker’s library, legs folded underneath him. He had figured the blood he used for the sigil would be easier to clean on the floor than any of the tables. A map, taken from the last gas station they had passed, lies in front of him. A bright glowing dot—a beacon—shows them where the car is.

“Cas, you son of a bitch,” Dean says with pride in his voice. Sam questions the how, but Cas isn’t given enough time to explain the intricacies of an angelic tracking spell. Dean throws his jacket over his shoulders and says, “We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s get moving.”

The map leads them off the road, so they’re forced to abandon the car while they hike through the woods. It’s the beginning of summer, the sun dipping below the hills but still heating the air. Cas would be sweating along with the brothers—if he did that sort of thing. The leaves underneath their feet are dry and crackly no matter how careful they are, so their entrance is far from quiet.

Their trail leads them to an abandoned cabin, cars from the missing people lined up neatly in the yard. It appears dark inside, windows busted out and graffiti lining the walls, but Cas can sense life just beyond the rotting wood.

Dean ducks around the back, gun cocked and ready. Sam and Cas make their way through the front door, the wood swinging loudly on its hinges.

The smell of rot and blood fills the air once they’re inside. There’s no electricity, so Sam lights the way with a flashlight, holding his gun out in front of him. Cas prepares his angel blade as they scope out the rooms.

Dean meets with them after a couple of minutes, declaring the rooms in the back clear. The wood beneath their feet creaks as they continue their search until Cas’ foot hits something metal that clatters in place.

All as one, they look down.

It’s a handle, one that leads to a basement. A rug had been hastily thrown over it. They all nod at each other. This is where whatever they’re hunting is. It has to be.

As they head down the wooden steps in a single file, the smell of death is overwhelmed by the smell of earth—wet dirt permeating the air. A blood trail along the floor leaves a path over to a corpse that is mutilated from the chest down. Beyond that, the wooden walls have caved in, revealing a tunnel that has been dug down further into the dark.

Sam hisses at the body, “It’s the girl who went missing ten months ago.”

Sam holds his flashlight steady as Cas studies the body. Her stomach has been cut open, guts long ago spilled free from gravity alone. He leans down to examine her further and pauses when he finds odd scars grouping what’s left of her belly. He studies it for a moment, before murmuring, “She’s missing her uterus.”

Both Sam and Dean have a similar expression, full of disgust and regret that they hadn’t got here in time, even though they’d only learned about the hunt a couple of days prior.

Cas stands up. “The blood is fresh, only a couple of weeks old at most. I would say she was killed just before the creature began hunting for its next victim.”

Before anyone can reply to that, they all hear a muffled screaming coming from the makeshift tunnel. At once, they head quickly into terrain unknown.

The cave system is vast, but the sounds of despair are easy to follow, echoing throughout the cavern and directing them on the right path. They enter a room that branches off to different tunnels. There, the source of the screaming is found.

The girl is struggling, hands chained above her to the ceiling and legs chained wide on the floor. Her clothing is completely gone, blood streaking down her thighs. Both brothers turn their gazes away to give her privacy, but Cas steps forward.

“It’s okay. I’m going to get you free.”

She’s crying so hard that Cas isn’t sure she hears him or even senses that he’s not a threat. Dean shucks his coat off and covers her while Cas starts breaking the chains.

His fingertips barely graze her inner wrist when he feels a zap of something shoot through him. He stumbles back.

“Cas?” Dean says, worried, but Cas is too busy looking at his hands. There’s no indication that something has happened, but a twisting feeling in his gut makes him take another step away.

He holds his hand out when Dean steps toward him. “There’s something wrong. Don’t touch her.”

“Please,” she sobs out, anguish twisting her features. Dean’s gaze wavers between her and Cas, unsure. The chains rattle loudly as she arches her back away from the wall behind her.

Cas finds his gaze stuck on her body as it twists. He can’t see past the jacket draped on top of her, but enough of her skin is still showing that he can get an idea of what she looks like. When she bucks more fiercely, the jacket slips down and Cas can’t pull his attention away.

He doesn’t realize he’s moved until a grip on his shoulder pulls him back. He meets Dean’s hard gaze and simply repeats, “Something’s wrong.”

Sam attempts to soothe her, reassuring her that they’ll get her out of here, but she’s either not listening or is too beyond frightened to care. Her sobs continue, morphing into anguished wails as she struggles. The chains on her wrists cut into her flesh, blood dripping down her arms.

The noises she makes are loud, unrestrained. Dean tenses and Sam shifts nervously. She’s going to call whatever took her right to them if they don’t do anything.

“Yeah, screw this,” Dean aims his gun and shoots the chains binding her. First, her left arm, then right. He’s aiming at the ones on her legs when she lunges forward.

Sam stumbles back in surprise, but it’s Cas who grabs her before she can do anything. His hands grip her ribs, holding her back as she thrashes. Her fingers claw at him, and she screams in frustration through gritted teeth.

The brothers are under the impression that she’s trying to hurt him. Out of her mind with frenzy and attacking anything within spitting distance. Cas, who’s up close to her, can see that her hands aren’t seeking to harm, but are instead fumbling at his layers of clothes like she’s trying to rip them apart.

Cas studies her, cataloging her movement. Her pupils are blown wide, and she’s growling animalistically, but this isn’t what makes him pause with surprise.

He recognizes this face. It’s hard to tell, the shape a little off from what he remembers, but it’s the blue eyes, blond hair, and nose ring combo that he had seen just last night. From the missing person in the drive-in.

Cas is so distracted by the realization that he doesn’t catch that something is wrong until the brother’s guns begin going off behind him. He turns, getting a glimpse of a fast-moving creature before it leaps towards Dean.

“No!” He calls out, watching the beast and Dean tumble over backward. Sam stops shooting, unable to get a clear shot.

Cas struggles away from the human gripping him, feeling his clothes tear but uncaring. The monster is dragging Dean away now, pulling him into one of the vast tunnels. With no hesitation, Cas follows them.

There’s no light down in the caves, but Cas doesn’t need a flashlight in order to see in the dark. He tracks the trail made by Dean’s dragging feet. Strangely, he finds himself running out of breath. He must have activated some form of curse when he grabbed the human earlier.

His vision dims, and Cas realizes that he’s losing the ability to see past the shadows. He fumbles to turn on the flashlight, blinking hard.

Then something leaps at him from the dark.

“… Cas! Cas!”

He cracks open his eyes and sees a nightmare standing in front of him. The monster hisses, mouth full of sharp teeth and eyes eclipsed by yellow.

He shifts, alarmed. A rattle of chains stops his attempt to pull away. He’s pinned, like the victim from before. A quick glance around reveals that he’s not the only one.

Dean shakes his own chains above his head, trying to get the thing’s attention, but it doesn’t work. The creature makes a clicking noise in its throat, considering.

It leans in close, jagged teeth nearing his throat. Instead of attacking, it begins to inhale, slitted nostrils flaring with each sniff. It stays there, too close for comfort.

When it’s clear that this is all it will do, Dean stops rattling the chains. He makes a face, looking around to try to find an escape. Cas wonders where Sam has gone—if he’s still looking for them. By his internal sense of timing, it has only been an hour since they were taken, at most.

He strains against the metal circling his wrists and ankles, but he can’t break it. With a sense of dread, he knows that this is not because the chains are strong, but he is growing weak.

The beast’s head moves, sliding down but still keeping up with the constant sniffing.

At first, Dean makes a strained joke, “Getting a little too close to the crotch there, doggy.” But when it’s apparent that the crotch is really what it’s heading for, Dean gets angry. “Hey!”

It shoves its nose at the juncture of Cas’ thighs, inhaling deeply. When it nudges closer yet again, it’s so pressed up against Cas that he bounces a little, chain rattling. Dean curses, throwing threats that this creature doesn’t seem to comprehend.

Its clawed hand reaches out toward him, stretching up and wiggling. Five blades press against his chest and Cas holds his breath. Then, it slashes down, but the action only rips through his clothes rather than his skin. The tear goes from collar to crotch, a straight line down the front of his body, leaving it bare.

When Dean realizes what it’s done, he sounds murderous. “If you touch him, I swear I’ll kill you.”

It makes a strange squealing noise, followed by more clicks. It stands fully, pressing back into Cas’ bare throat. This time, Cas feels its hot breath as it opens its mouth.

He shoots Dean a panicked look, unsure of what this thing’s intention is. Dean looks simultaneously worried for Cas and murderous for the being.

They’re still looking at each other when it bites him.

He feels the stab in the side of his neck, not like teeth but more akin to needles. A rush of warmth, of liquid flows inside. Cas tenses further. He’s being injected with something that could only mean trouble. He won’t be immune to the side effects if he’s already this weak.

It pulls away, licking the blood off of its teeth. Dean’s screaming finally gets through, and the creature turns to him next.

“No,” Cas tries to protest, but sudden dizziness washes over his mind. His vision wavers, even as he keeps his gaze locked onto the struggling Dean.

Just as it reaches him, Cas lets out one last desperate wave of grace and the chains disintegrate from around his wrists and ankles. Uselessly, he falls to the ground, unable to do more than listen as Dean cusses at the beast. Darkness threatens his vision.

“Get off me–” Dean grunts. Cas hears a couple of thumps of flesh hitting flesh.

Then shots ring out. Sam has arrived, but Cas can’t lift his head to look.

Heat washes through his body, getting hotter and hotter, like he’s being cooked from the inside. Cas cries out, digging his fingers into the ground like he can get away from whatever it is. His limbs twist in agony, blood running hot.

Whatever it did to Dean, it didn’t knock him out. Cas can hear him yelling over the sounds of his own cries of pain. His bones begin to shift, the grinding noise blocking out anything else.

The pain seems endless. It pauses after a couple of minutes, long enough for Cas to pant and look around. The creature is bleeding out on the floor and Sam is trying to get Dean down. Then the next wave hits and he can’t see anything else.

He can’t hold back his screams; it continues on and on until the pain grips him so hard that he can’t make a sound anymore. Then it’s over.

When he can finally lift his head, Sam’s wide eyes meet his own. He lets out a choked, “Oh,” then nothing more.

Cas has to blink a few times, head swaying side to side. It feels as if his depth perception is off, nausea flowing through him at the change. It reminds him a lot of when he first obtained his vessel, like he’s been shoved into something that he doesn’t fit into.

He tries to stand, staggering. Both brothers hold their hands out, but don’t actually attempt to help him up. They appear too stunned to speak.

Having his suspicions from earlier, Cas has a feeling he knows what just happened to him. He’s able to stand fully, only swaying a tiny amount.

Dean’s expression is one of shock. His eyes drop, examining Cas’ entire frame with a gulp.

The shreds of his clothes drift down, only his coat unharmed. He wraps it around his body awkwardly, unused to the new shape. He doesn’t examine himself, but he can feel curves and dips where there weren’t before. When he moves his head, hair brushes against his shoulders. Dean’s stunned expression remains even after he’s covered his nude form.

Sam clears his throat. “Okay, we’ll have to deal with this later. We should get moving before we run into any more surprises.”

When Dean stays quiet, Cas asks, “What was it?” They both startle at the lighter timber of his voice.

“Uh,” Sam looks down at the body, then at the gun he’s holding. “I’m not sure. It went down with regular bullets, though.”

“And the… victim from earlier?”

Sam presses his lips together. “Ran away.”

Cas nods. They begin their journey towards the exit, unspeaking. When Cas stumbles, Dean lunges forward as if to catch him, but they never do touch.

The car ride is silent. Cas sits in the back, watching Dean’s hands clench occasionally on the wheel. Sam checks on him a couple of times, but they say nothing.

They had a spare pair of clothing in the trunk. The clothes that would have fit him snuggly in the past now pinch and fold in places he’s not used to having, while simultaneously hanging loosely on other parts.

Cas examines his own hands, mapping out the lines and slimmer fingers. It’s almost the same, just off. Like someone took his vessel and stretched and squashed it around into a different shape, but still kept the foundations.

He thinks of the boy that was taken from the drive-in. The one they found later, hanging by chains in the cave, form changed as well. He was feral, not in control. Cas doesn’t feel that way, but maybe he will start to change slowly, his thoughts shifting until he can’t recognize himself in mind or form.

But what of its purpose? Why change their form at all? The girl who had gone missing ten months ago hadn’t been transformed, so maybe it just needed females.

His thoughts are cut off when the engine does. They’ve arrived at the bunker.

Cas gets out of the Impala, Dean hovering like he’s going to offer to help him. They all stand there awkwardly until Sam sighs and makes his way into the building. Dean and Cas follow, like they were lost children and Sam was the only adult around.

By the time their feet settle in the library, Sam is already tossing books upon books into a stack. Dean grimaces, but they all dutifully get to work.

Two hours later, Dean thumps his book down, pages spread open. “This sounds promising.”

They all gather close, scooting their chairs over to see. The spread details not a monster, but a spell. It’s similar to what happened to Cas, a ritual that turns the victim into the opposite sex.

Sam shakes his head. “That doesn’t explain what happened.”

“Does it matter? All we need to do is get Cas back to normal and we’re golden. The creature’s dead and we can hunt down the girl before she can grab anyone else.”

“The guy,” Cas corrects. At their look, he explains, “The human we saw who attacked me was the boy from the drive-in. I recognized him.”

Dean looks at him in disbelief but doesn’t argue. Sam leans forward. “How are you feeling, Cas?”

“Tired.” Cas analyzes himself. “It feels like my grace is locked behind a wall. I can still draw from it, but I can’t reach it as easily.”

“Damn.” Dean looks down at the book in front of him and pushes it away. “So much for using the spell as a one-and-done fix, huh?”

“We could still use it,” Sam says slowly, “But I want to figure out what this is first. There might be other effects that we don’t know about.”

“I don’t mind what form I’m in,” Cas says. He looks down, studying himself. “If there are no adverse effects and I can get my grace back, we don’t need to bother with the spell. It’s not like this is my true form, anyway.”

Dean looks like he’s struggling to say something, but all that comes out is a high-pitched, “Yeah.” Then he clears his throat, and his voice drops back down to its normal octaves. “Yeah, okay. I don’t know why the hell the thing did this in the first place.”

“The body in the cave–” Cas says at the same time Sam starts to speak.

“The girl from ten months ago–”

They pause, then Cas continues, “Her uterus was missing. Not like it was carved out, but like it had been eaten.”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “The thing eats uteruses?” A pause, “Uteri?”

“No, it had been eaten from within.”

When Dean still looks confused, Sam says plainly, “It wanted offspring. The children must have eaten their way out.”

Dean suddenly slams his fist down on the table. “Like hell it’s getting any. None of those creatures are coming anywhere near Cas.”

Sam studies his brother for a moment before continuing, “… That monster, the one I shot, it didn’t have any reproductive organs.”

“What were you looking at its junk for?”

“It was completely nude, Dean,” Sam says, exasperated.

Dean grins, teeth gleaming white. Cas finds himself staring at him, watching every subtle shift on his face. The brothers banter back and forth a bit and Dean shines with amusement. The green eyes move, turning their attention toward Cas, who can’t tear his own gaze away.

They watch each other for a bit longer than usual. Cas is waiting for Dean to turn away, or blink, or make some comment like he normally does to break the tension, but it doesn’t come. Instead, a slow smile curls at his lips, not amused but something darker than before. Sensual.

This is the face that Dean makes when he’s flirting at the bar. How odd that he’s putting it on now.

Cas’ eyes widen a small amount. A warmth blooms so suddenly in his nether regions that he thinks he might have urinated. He shifts, squirming, and Dean’s eyes darken further, like he can sense what just happened, even if Cas still isn’t sure why his body is reacting the way it is.

Sam snaps them out of it. He gives them both a strange look, hesitant, like he didn’t want to interrupt but he felt he had to. He turns to Dean. “The creature. It bit you too, didn’t it? Are you feeling alright?”

Dean rips his eyes away. “What? Yeah. I’m pretty sure I’d feel it if I was going to spontaneously grow some boobs. It was just trying to knock me out.”

Sam’s brow furrows. “But you never passed out.”

Dean grins. “I’m just that good.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, staring down at the book in front of him. He stands. “I’m going to look into this more. I’ll let you know when I find something. For now, don’t leave this building. Either of you.”

Dean takes off after that, likely pouting in his room about the restriction. Cas wanders around, looking for a mirror so he can take a look at his transformed body.

He’s not normally prone to vanity. A vessel is a vessel. But he’d had the one so long that he can’t picture what it could look like now. It’s simple curiosity that drives him.

He finds a full-length mirror in the bathroom, near the showers. The first shock, besides the overall change, is his hair. He’d dismissed the brushes of it against his shoulders, but now that he’s studying it, it’s quite thicker and longer than he was expecting.

It falls over his face when he tries to turn his head too suddenly. The color has stayed the same as his previous vessel. The waves are more pronounced now that they fall past his shoulders. It snags and tangles on the collar of his trench coat, more trouble than it’s worth.

Cas finds scissors in one of the drawers and holds out a large section of his hair, trying to find the best angle to slice through. He’s staring at himself through the mirror when Dean appears over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he looks surprised, like he’s not used to running into anyone in the bathroom. His eyes dart around, landing on the gleam of the scissors. “Hey,” he repeats, a little harsher this time. “What are you doing?”

Cas blinks, hands lowering slowly. “I was getting rid of the hair.”

“Oh.” Dean takes a step forward, catching some of the strands to hold up to the light. “You don’t like it?”

Cas hesitates before shaking his head.

When Dean takes note of the pause, he continues, “No, that’s fine. I’m sure it can get annoying. Here, I’ll help. I used to cut Sammy’s hair all the time before he decided he liked being a caveman.”

“I don’t want it too short,” Cas says, inexplicitly worried. He hands over the scissors. “I just want it out of the way.”

“Sure,” Dean agrees easily. “We’ll keep it at Sam’s length. First things first, we have to brush it out. Cutting it while it’s all tangled will make it look choppy.”

It becomes apparent that neither of them owns a comb. Dean roots around the bathroom until he’s able to produce one. He holds it up, victorious, as Cas silently thanks Sam. Dean pulls out a stool for him and he sits.

He turns his back to Dean, thinking nothing of it until he feels gentle fingers thread through his hair. The sensation is strange, but what’s even stranger is the fact that Dean is being careful, kind. He’s humming absently, like he does this all the time.

He uses the comb, starting from bottom to top, gently coaxing the snags out. The action is soothing, and Cas finds his eyes slipping shut, lost in the sensation.

He listens to the snip of the scissors, his hair bouncing up after each cut, airier than before. The strands fall to the ground with little fanfare. Then he hears the clatter of the scissors being set down.

Fingers brush at the back of his neck. Lightly, then stronger when there’s no reaction. Soon, they dig and circle, massaging the tension out and making Cas moan. He cracks open his eyes, tilting his head back and looking at Dean, who’s watching him as his hands trail down to continue the caress of his shoulders.

Cas’ mouth parts, about to compliment the way his hands work, when Dean pulls back sharply.

“Dude, you’re bleeding,” Dean says, alarmed.

Cas cocks his head. “Should you still be calling me ‘dude?’”

But Dean is staring down at his lap with panic. Without taking his wide eyes off of him, he calls out, “Sam!”

Cas frowns, following his gaze down. A pool of blood has started underneath him, spreading and beginning to drip off of the stool. He had thought the warmth from earlier had been strange, but he didn’t think this was the cause.

Sam flies in, hair swooshing on his shoulders. “What is it?”

Cas tries to stand but groans at the sudden pain gripping his insides. He hunches over instinctively.

Sam sees the blood and goes pale. “Cas?”

Dean is already hovering over him, patting his arms, then his shoulders. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

He tries to breathe past the pain. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Help me up.”

To his credit, Dean hauls him up while giving him the most incredulous look ever. “You’re obviously not fine.”

“It’s natural,” Cas says, looking over at Sam.

Sam’s face flips from concerned to understanding.

Cas continues, “I need a bath. Preferably a warm one.”

“Alright.” Sam nods.

“Hey, wait,” Dean calls out, but Sam is already retreating. He turns to Cas, tightening his hold. “What do you mean ‘it’s natural?’”

Cas gives him a look and Dean gives a soft, “Oh!” But then, “Hey, I’m no expert on that. But is there supposed to be… that much? It looks like a horror scene.”

“I think my body is making up for never having a menstrual cycle.” Cas gasps at the next wave of pain, words coming out tight, “Making me fertile.”

“Okay.” Dean’s face grows serious. “Let’s get you into that bath then, huh? Let me and Sam take care of this mess.”

The bath itself is at the end of the shower room. Dean helps him hobble over to where Sam is setting it up. Steam rises from the water, a pleasant warmth.

Cas releases his hold on Dean, staying slightly hunched over. “I want to rinse off first.”

Sam nods, shutting off the water now that the bath is full. He stands, “That’s fine, Cas. Just relax, the warmth should help you through most of the pain.”

Sam starts to head out, and Cas begins taking off his shirt. Sam turns with a frown when his brother doesn’t follow. Dean is too busy gawking at Cas’ nude upper half.

Cas throws the shirt off to the side, tilting his head at Dean’s gaze. He’s acting like he’s never seen the naked female form, which Cas knows is untrue.

Sam’s face reddens, and he averts his gaze, but he does stick around long enough to smack the back of Dean’s head. An annoyed growl comes out of his throat, but Dean does end up taking his leave. Not without a few backwards glances.

Cas hears Sam’s annoyed tone say, “Jesus, Dean,” before the door swings shut and he’s left alone.

He washes in the shower, scrubbing at the unfamiliar parts of himself. He discovers a strange sensation that sends a spark up his spine when he rubs in certain places, a feeling he remembers when he was human. It’s both familiar and different.

Another round of cramps pushes through him, and he decides that he’s rinsed enough. He’s not bleeding terribly, despite the earlier mess. It already seems to be tampering down. Which is good, seeing as he didn’t want to dye the water red if he didn’t have to.

He dozes in the warmth, trying not to think too hard about the events during the day. He’s still unsure if he’ll be even more affected, now that his body is going through a process he’s unfamiliar with. He pictures the crazed look in the human’s eyes, the way he had been gripping at Cas’ clothes with his transformed hands.

He doesn’t hear the door click open and shut, but some sense within him has him opening his eyes. He’d only been in the bath for around an hour, but it must be long enough to cause Dean to worry, for he’s back inside the bathroom.

Cas sits up. “I’m feeling much better now.”

Dean’s eyebrows pinch, like he forgot why he was in the room. “That’s good. Come on out, you’ll turn into a prune at this rate.”

He stands, water dripping off of his body. He tinged the bathwater pink, but nothing more falls from between his legs. It must have been a quick event, hitting him all at once, then tapering off. He’s glad that the cramps have stopped, at least.

He steps out of the bath, taking the offered towel when Dean holds it out to him. Dean hasn’t blinked this entire time, and he stands tense, vigilant. He must be worried.

Cas wraps the towel around himself, and Dean shakes his head sharply. He steps forward, “Hey, Cas…” his hands reach out, but he doesn’t touch.

Cas tries to walk around him, hoping for another towel to wring out his shorter hair, but Dean presses forward and stops him in his tracks. He leans in, cheek scrapping against his, stubble prominent. He’s almost… nuzzling.

“Dean?”

Cas feels a hot breath against his ear. Then lips, caressing faintly against the side of his face. He puts the hand not gripping the towel up, resting it on Dean’s chest, but doesn’t shove him away. Dean takes the opportunity to back him further toward the wall, shelf digging into his back.

Dean hums, nuzzling again. He eases even closer, pressing his leg between both of Cas’, parting them. “I can help you feel even better.”

Cas can’t see his expression, but he can feel when the lips trail down, reaching his neck. He starts to kiss his skin, tongue flicking out lazily. Tasting the water left on him.

Cas’ hand clenches, balling up Dean’s shirt in his fist. He stares forward, conflicted about whether to call for Sam. Something is obviously wrong.

Dean’s hands encircle his waist and his legs presses further, grinding his erection against the flimsy towel between them.

He takes a sharp breath, “Dean–”

He pulls back, eyes dilated and mouth pink. He’s still close enough that Cas can feel his warm breath caress his lips when he exhales. In return, Cas feels his face grow warm all over, pinkening in a way it never has before.

Then the real fever boils up inside, uncontrollable. His breathing grows labored, body unsatisfied with stopping there. The hold on his thoughts, the worries, unravel and he’s left with nothing but want.

Dean watches him, waiting. For what, Cas doesn’t know, but when he arches his back a little, grinding back onto his leg, he rewards Cas with a slow grin.

He lets out a drawn-out sigh as Dean’s hand slides over his cheek, cupping his face and stroking his thumb back and forth. He leans in, dipping his head low.

Before their mouths can meet, something flashes through Dean’s eyes and the smile drops. He pulls back quickly, putting as much distance between them while still in the same room.

Cas opens his mouth to protest, but he stops. He’s not sure what’s happening with either of them.

Dean looks away, then he turns and leaves the room in a rush.

He leaves Cas standing there, naked except for the towel draped around his body, wondering why he reacted that way. Then the heat clawing at him from within wonders why they stopped.

He steps out of the steaming bathroom, not bothering to get dressed. His feet travel hurriedly down the halls, searching for where Dean went.

When he finds him, he stops. Not because he wants to, but because Sam stands between them and he’s putting up a defensive hand, like Cas is about to attack them both. Dean is crouched behind him, covering his face with his hands.

At a stalemate, they all sit at separate corners of the room and do something that they usually skip during hunts—they talk about themselves, and how they’re feeling. Well, Sam asks questions which Cas answers plainly while Dean avoids looking at anyone and answers in a choked voice.

It all boils down to this: Cas, while mostly unaffected, is still having strange reactions happening in his newly transformed body. Dean, on the other hand, went through no such transformation, but has silently been fighting off urges that only grow stronger and stronger. When questioned about what the urges are, Dean clams up.

Sam understands anyway. He closes his eyes with his next sigh. “I’m gonna need to analyze a… sample. From you, Dean.”

Dean shifts, rocking back and forth like he’s trying to get comfortable on the cold ground. “Sample?” He looks at his brother, then Cas, to see if he understands.

Cas blinks at him. Sam doesn’t clarify.

Deadpan, Cas says, “He needs to look at your sperm.”

Dean sputters.

Sam talks over his dramatics, “They’ll be more active and potent–”

Dean covers his ears and starts to sing loudly.

“–I’m only trying to—Dean! I’m only trying to narrow this down. We need to figure out what this is so we can stop it. I don’t want to do this anymore than you do.”

Dean pulls his hands away, singing obviously blocking nothing out. “It’s fine! I had a lapse of control, but that’s because I didn’t know what was happening.”

Sam shakes his head. “This isn’t just for you. What if it grows worse? What if something happens to Cas?”

That seems to get through to him. He looks from his brother, then to Cas, then back, and his face slowly grows a bright red, redder than Cas had ever seen on him before. He chokes out, “I. Can’t.”

Sam sighs, exasperated, “C’mon, Dean. I don’t even care at this point. We just have to get this over with.”

“No, Sam. You’re not getting it. I,” Dean waves his hand over his crotch, “Can’t.”

Sam pauses at that. “Huh?” Then, “Dean, I know you’re getting old, but…”

“That’s not it, jackass,” Dean snaps. “I was fine before all this. But earlier, when you were cleaning, I couldn’t–” he waves at his crotch again, as if referring to it out loud is some sort of curse he’s unwilling to take on.

“Okay,” Sam says too calmly, which just makes Dean’s hackles rise. “That narrows it down a little. Now, tell me, do I need to separate you two?”

Dean sputters, so Cas answers for him, “I don’t think so. The urges are miniscule on my end, and Dean seems to be handling himself well. If that changes, maybe. But for now, we’re good.”

Sam nods. “With the way the other victims went, you guys just need to stay away from each other. If Cas somehow ends up pregnant, he could die.”

Before Dean can interrupt him, Sam continues, “We just have to assume that whatever it injected you both with somehow ramps up your… urges. They will probably grow as it goes along, so to resist temptation, you should stay away from each other. We can’t trust any contraceptives to handle this, seeing as it’s magical in nature.”

“You’re telling me a condom wouldn’t work?” Dean asks, indignant. Then, once he realizes what he just said, he snaps his mouth shut.

“… The purpose,” Sam turns to give a look to his brother, “was to get offspring. You won’t be able to trick your body into thinking it has done a successful mating until you’ve actually bred–”

“Okay!” Dean says loudly. He stands up. “Good chat. I’ll be in my room whenever you find the cure. Make sure you knock first.” Then he takes off down the hall, the door to his room slamming shut a moment later.

Sam and Cas look at each other. Then, in silent agreement, they both head back to the library to try to figure this out.

...The change would not be gradual. Once the spell takes effect, it would happen all at once. The process of changing the human form is said to be quite painful…

Cas flips through the spell book that Dean had found earlier. Despite all of their searching, this is the only passage that even gets close to what they’re experiencing.

Sam had stayed with him for hours, while Dean refused to leave his room. Both Cas and Sam had read until they were interrupted by the growling of Sam’s stomach. Then Sam abandoned him to cook something in the kitchen, seeing as Dean isn’t coming out to make them dinner tonight.

Cas, who might need to eat now that he’s in this form but would be a terrible cook, reads on while Sam prepares the food. The smell of searing meat is enough to make his own stomach growl, but he’s even more distracted by the words in the next passage.

… The body would be fully functioning. Not only does appearance change, but the physical aspects of each sex would be taken into account…

“Anything interesting?”

Cas looks up. Dean uses his foot to kick the chair out from under the table. He sits in it, right next to him, and gazes at him with clear eyes.

“Nothing that would help the situation at hand,” Cas admits. “This spell looks like it would work, but changing my form back the way it used to be is the least of our problems.”

“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean leans further into his space. “Anyone who would want to jump your bones would have a hard time getting you pregnant if you were back in your old vessel.”

Cas nods, ignoring the hot breath fanning over his cheek. “That’s true. If we can’t find anything else, maybe we could try—”

A sudden hand slides over his thigh and tucks itself in between them.

“Ah,” He startles, looking over at Dean.

Cas is wearing an old pair of cotton shorts. Any pairs of jeans that had been given to him didn’t fit right on this form. The shorts are thin, but it didn’t matter, seeing as they were stuck in the bunker until they could figure this out. He didn’t think anything of the way he’s dressed until this moment.

The hand shifts a little, but ultimately stays in the warmth, pressed between the two thighs that can’t help but tensing.

Dean sounds like he’s gritting his teeth as he speaks, “Sorry, I’ll stop.” Still, his hand stays. He takes a deep breath. “Maybe we should cuff me, huh? Or lock me in a room, at least.”

Cas stays silent, unsure of what to do. The hand twitches, like it senses that it’s not going to be yanked away any time soon, but is still wary.

He doesn’t call for Sam. Despite Dean looking like he can’t control his actions, Cas doesn’t feel in danger. But perhaps that is the effect of the spell on Cas, as well. Before he can ponder it, Dean continues speaking.

“It’s like an urge. At first, I could ignore it. Then it got stronger and stronger. It’s not just the–” Dean looks down at his lap and again his hand shifts a little, brushing against Cas’ thigh. His voice trails off, quiet and ashamed. “It’s not just lust. I feel like I have to touch you.”

“Touch,” Cas repeats, thinking. Then, “Are your urges going away? Since your hand is on me now?”

Dean blinks at that, at how reasonable Cas sounds despite the weird situation. “Umm,” he clears his throat. “Sort of. Actually, yeah. It’s not as bad. Still can’t pull my hand away, though.” He laughs bitterly.

After a moment of consideration, Cas presses his hips forward and parts his legs, allowing Dean’s entire palm to cup him. Dean turns his head slowly, looking at Cas.

Cas stares back. “If it makes you feel better, you can touch me. Breeding obviously isn’t okay, but I don’t mind the touching if it calms you down.”

Dean’s expression grows pained, arm tensing like he wants to pull away but is unable to. He shakes his head. “Cas, that’s…” Unconsciously, his hand moves, rubbing gently.

“It’s okay,” Cas says sincerely. “There are worse things. We’ll get through this.”

The hand squeezes, just a little, and Cas is shocked at how nice the feeling is. Dean’s gaze trails from Cas’ face down to where they touch, squeezing again, as if testing his reaction.

When the fingers start to press and pulse, Cas can’t stop a small, “Mmm,” from crawling up his throat. He hadn’t known what to expect, but the pleasure snaking up his spine is a surprise.

Dean meets his eyes again, gazes locked as he continues caressing him. His eyes are hooded, mouth parting slightly. Whatever Dean sees in Cas’ expression must be encouraging because the squeezes get more confident.

Cas takes the moment to appreciate the motions. He hasn’t explored much of his own body since it changed; he had no idea that rubbing certain areas would feel like this.

Dean continues, massaging roughly, almost kneading him. Cas finds his legs parting further, hips rocking faintly, inviting. A couple of minutes pass like this. Cas is surprised to find himself getting frustrated. The sensation was pleasing at first, but now it’s not enough.

As if he can read his mind, Dean rasps, “Can I reach in? Just my hand.”

At this point, Cas’ knees rest on either side of the chair. Eyes half-lidded, he nods.

Dean stops squeezing. His hand trails up, skimming at the top of his shorts. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he leans back, pressing his crotch out for easier access. Wanting to know what more would feel like.

Dean doesn’t waste time. He dips his hand down, moving past the elastic waistline. Cas’ body trembles slightly as he exhales. The fingers rake down, parting the coarse hair under his fingers.

Then he finds what he was after, hand hovering over the warmth seeping from between his legs. They reach further, dragging against him in a way that causes Cas to shiver. Dipping low, he finds his entrance.

A singles digit circles it around and around, unable to do anything more due to the angle they’re at. Cas’ eyes widen, looking at Dean as if he could explain all the feelings shooting through him. In response, the heel of his hand grinds down and Cas jerks.

Dean works him, rubbing firmly, while Cas struggles between wanting more and wanting to take it all back.

“Ah,” his mouth opens, jolts of pleasure running throughout his entire being. It feels good, better than the teasing from before.

“Okay?” Dean asks, but from the satisfied look in his eyes as he studies him, he knows the answer before Cas nods.

The flush takes over his face. His eyes squint closed, focusing on where Dean continues to touch him. His breathing grows rougher.

Dean is speeding up his movements in increments. Something inside of Cas is building right along with him.

The hand slides, the motion smoother now. Cas has grown wet with arousal. His eyes open once more, vision blurred. He looks over.

Dean’s eyes have darkened, still studying Cas’ expression as he takes him apart. A whine crawls out of Cas’ throat and Dean’s face shifts, softening into a look that’s almost fond.

His legs twitch, feet tapping the legs of the chair to get rid of the excess energy. There’s not much else he can do, hips already angled up as far as they can.

“Mmm.” His hands clutch the seat below him. He sucks his breath back in through his teeth, Dean’s hand moving furiously now.

When they hear footstep approaching, Cas almost groans in frustration. He’d forgotten, in the heat of the moment, that they were in the middle of the library, where Sam could easily walk in on them.

Except Dean doesn’t tear his hand away like Cas had thought he would. Instead, he sits straight, shoulders out and the hand on him squeezes like before. His eyes turn to the entrance while Cas gasps, expression hardened into something close to anger.

Possessive.

Cas reaches down to Dean’s hand himself, trying to pull him away despite his body crying out for him to do the opposite. His weak attempts only lead to Dean pressing down harder, hand never leaving him. His palm wedges itself against him as it continues to grind and Cas shudders, limbs growing weak.

He leans forward, thinking he can at least get rid of Dean’s leverage before Sam can catch them. Dean’s arm shoves him back, hand gripping tighter. Cas is at the point where his thoughts are melting, unsure of what he should do. Dean’s motions are inherently violent, but the feeling he pulls out of Cas is nothing but bliss.

The silent struggle doesn’t even last a full minute. Cas is too close to coming undone to analyze it further. As soon as it becomes apparent that Sam has turned into some other room before reaching them, he also can’t find it in himself to care.

The hand continues as before, rubbing directly against him and picking up speed. Cas leans sideways, limp and clutching at Dean’s arm in desperation. It’s too late to stop anything. He rests himself on Dean’s side, feet swinging a little but doing nothing else.

Eyes swirling and voice rough, Dean commands, “Come for me.”

Cas nods, forehead rubbing against Dean’s shoulder, helpless to do anything else. His hips rock, mouth dropping open. Small moans that sound like whimpers come from his throat. He feels his eyes start to roll to the back of his head.

With one last shudder, he comes. He has to cut off his own cry, pressing his mouth into the sleeve of Dean’s shirt so that Sam won’t come running. His body heaves and twists, pulsing under his touch.

He strokes him through it, gathering more wetness with his fingers and spreading it around. Only once Cas begins shivering from the sensitivity does Dean remove his hand, pulling it out of his pants.

Cas doesn’t move, eyes closed and resting against Dean’s side. He’s breathing heavy, the aftershocks fading.

Dean’s arm circles his waist and strokes his side, comforting. When Cas builds up the energy, he looks up at him.

Dean’s eyes are averted, but his shoulders aren’t tense underneath Cas’ cheek. He seems just as relaxed as Cas is.

He tries to test the waters. “That felt good.”

A small tick in Dean’s cheek lets Cas know that he’s holding back a smile. Then his expression grows somber. He looks down at Cas. “You were pulling away.”

It sounds like an accusation, but the tone is off. Dean sounds ashamed.

“I don’t know if you heard,” which isn’t true, Cas knows they both heard, “but your brother was on his way over. I was saving both him and you from the embarrassment.”

Dean shakes his head. “That’s not the point. You were trying to get away and I couldn’t stop myself.”

Except Cas couldn’t stop himself either. He wanted this.

Dean pulls away. “We shouldn’t do this. Let’s just lock me in my room. Hell, I can sit in the dungeon until all this has passed–”

Cas cuts him off. “Do you feel better?”

“Cas–”

“I feel better, if you’re wondering.”

Dean still looks irritated, but a flash of something close to pride goes through his expression.

Cas smiles gently. “You like that I liked it.”

And the thing is, Cas would let Dean hurt him, if it took his own pain away. He would only have to ask.

But Dean would never, which is what Cas admires about him. Instead, he’d suffer in silence until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I would let you carve out my heart if it helped you hurt less,” Cas says, earnest. “This was genuinely enjoyable. I. Liked. It.”

Dean’s arm tightens involuntarily, bringing Cas closer. He looks stunned. At the words, or the thought, Cas isn’t sure.

Still, he tries to argue, “This isn’t right–”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas interrupts. “If you wanted to repeat that, I won’t stop you. But we should probably not do it in our very public library.”

At his distressed look that doesn’t fade, Cas tries a different tactic. “Dean, you have to trust me. I’m fine. Under different circumstances, this would…”

He trails off, but Dean finally hums, tightening his arm and pulling Cas closer. His eyes stay averted, but his body language seeks comfort and forgiveness for being weak enough to need comfort in the first place.

They finish dinner without much fanfare. Sam and Dean bicker back and forth, topics ranging from the way the meal was cooked to how many chores Dean gets out of because he’s cursed. Dean doesn’t sit next to him—because wouldn’t that be obvious—but he does sit across from him. Sam is unable to see the times Dean trails his foot up Cas’ leg, but by the time they’re done eating, Cas can’t keep the pleased expression off his face.

He heads to the bathroom after that. Urinating is almost the same—still an annoying function that Cas can’t see the point of—and, washing his hands afterward, Cas can’t see to take his eyes off himself.

The uncanny feeling from earlier has faded. Cas takes a look at his form now, and he doesn’t picture the old one.

He strips, not intending to take another shower but instead wanting to see more of himself. He studies the full-length mirror, backing up a little to get a glimpse of everything all at once.

This is when the bathroom door opens. Cas didn’t lock it and he can’t quite remember if that was on purpose or on accident.

Dean doesn’t say anything as he takes in the scene. He just walks up behind him. Cas leans back into his chest.

There is something almost beautiful, all of Cas’ bare flesh pressed up against Dean’s clothed form. Dean must think the same because he pauses, staring at them through the mirror, dazed.

He can feel the erection pressing against him from behind, hidden by the thick fabric of his jeans. Cas turns his head slightly to look at him, but the press of lips against his temple stops his movement.

He gazes into the mirror. Dean has his eyes closed tight, lips hard against the side of his face. He looks almost anguished, asking for forgiveness before he even begins.

But Cas has nothing to forgive him for. He tugs at his arms, wrapping them around himself.

When Dean’s eyes crack open, Cas glimpses a flash of color. It’s not the normal green, but when he looks on, that’s all he can see.

He grips the arm circling his ribs. Not to get away, but simply to brace himself.

Dean’s other arm trails down, hand brushing against his stomach before it centers itself over where it wants to be.

Before he touches him, they make eye contact in the mirror once more.

Cas allows himself to relax. It’s fine. He said so earlier. As long as there’s no penetration, they can do this. Sam only warned them against copulation.

Then it begins.

Dean’s eyes dart down occasionally to check the positioning of his fingers, but mostly he watches Cas’ face. Taking in his expressions of pleasure and want. Cas gazes back the best he can, but his eyes wander even more, watching Dean’s hand work against him. His eyes lose focus when the sensations get to be too much.

Dean’s arm unhooks itself slightly from his ribs, sliding up. Cas doesn’t notice until he feels a sudden pinch at his nipple.

“Mm,” he looks at his chest just as Dean begins to roll it between his fingers.

He leans his head back, resting it on Dean’s shoulder. Dean adjusts slightly to accommodate the shift in weight, but he doesn’t falter.

“Dean,” Cas’ hips start to move, trying to get closer to his hand. The movement also makes his ass grind against Dean’s erection.

It then that a series of short knock come from outside. Before Cas can even freeze in shock, there’s a hand over his mouth. Not the hand between his legs, but the one that had been at his chest.

Dean only sounds a little breathless. “Yeah?”

A pause. “Dean?” Then, “… I was looking for Cas. Do you know where he is?”

“Have you tried his room?” Dean calls back, resuming the motions from earlier.

Cas wants to cry out. Wants to tell Dean to stop or at least pause. But he’s also thankful for the palm over his mouth. If Sam heard him, the brothers would start to really fight.

“Yeah, I did.” Another pause. “Let me know when you’re out. I wanted to talk to you, too.”

He inhales sharply when his fingers pick up speed. Cas’ eyes snap up to meet Dean’s in the reflection, as if this might have been an accident.

“Okay,” Dean nods as if he can convince Sam that there’s nothing suspicious going on with a simply head tilt. His eyes are bright, the strokes are hard and mean, never ending. Dean tilts his head like he’s about to rest on Cas’ shoulder, except it’s too pushy, demanding. He rubs his face against him, stubble scratching at his skin.

“Mmm,” Cas whines, muffled behind his hand.

Dean meets his watery gaze. He turns his head slightly and presses his lips against his cheekbone, closing his eyes after a moment.

They both hear Sam calling for him further down the hall. Cas’ shoulders relax, even as Dean continues ruthlessly massaging his clit, fingers circling and pulsing as fast as possible. The noise of the wet slide dominates everything else.

Cas isn’t holding back anymore, almost limp. His thighs are spread as far as they’ll go as he leans back against Dean’s hard body.

Dean’s hand work furiously, pressing down against the arch of his hips.

Cas starts to tremble, hands clenching the fabric of Dean’s shirt as an orgasm builds within him. He tries to arch his back into it, grinding himself against the erection behind him. He can feel his insides clench, clamping down against nothing.

The door bursts open.

Sam appears flustered, but then he double takes. As soon as he realizes what’s happening, he steps forward and yanks Dean’s hand off of him with a harsh, “Hey.”

Cas shudders as his legs give out a little. Dean simply tightens his hold, making sure he doesn’t hit the ground.

Cas holds back a sigh of frustration. They were so close.

Dean must agree with the sentiment, for his hand twitches, wrist caught in Sam’s grip. His fingers are shiny, wet with Cas’ arousal.

Sam yanks him, pulling him away. Cas stands there and tries his best not to follow after them. It wouldn’t look good if he can’t control himself now.

Sam gathers up the clothes on the floor, still gripping Dean’s wrist like he’s afraid he’ll lunge. He tosses his clothes at Cas without looking. “Get dressed.”

Cas almost whines but keeps it to himself. He bends, pulling the underwear up his legs, then he turns to see why Dean is suddenly so quiet. He’s staring at his lower half, eyes flickering for a moment. They almost seem to shine, but after one hard blink they’re back to normal, if not still lust filled.

Then he’s dragged away. After putting the rest of his clothes on, Cas follows them.

“I don’t think this is necessary.” Dean wiggles his wrists, listening to the clatter of the cuffs against metal.

They’re in Dean’s room, Dean locked to the bed and Cas in the doorway trying not to jump him. Sam is standing between them as a moderator, arms crossed.

“Sam,” Cas tries to implore. “This isn’t really…”

Sam looks over at him. “Do I need to lock you up, too?”

Dean growls, which makes both Sam and Cas startle. He blinks, as if unsure that the noise even came from him. Shaking his head, he argues, “Locking me up is one thing, but Cas is the one getting the short end of the stick already.”

“I thought you both said you’d had a handle on this.”

“We do!”

“You’re going to tell me that? After what I just walked in on?”

Cas squeezes his thighs together, remembering Dean’s hands on him. “You said it’s fine, as long as I’m not being bred.”

To his credit, Sam doesn’t flush even as Dean gets a hazy look in his eyes. “That’s true, but it doesn’t seem like a good idea to get close. There could be… an accident.”

“We don’t need the birds and bees talk,” Dean snaps. “I just want to touch him, that’s all.”

He scoffs. “The fact that you can even say that—out loud—to me. That’s how I know this is affecting you more than you’re letting on.”

“Sam,” Cas says, and gets rewarded with an incredulous look at the tone he takes. He tries to hold back the begging, hoping to sound like he knows what he’s talking about. “We’ll be fine. It’s making the urges go away when we’re together—”

“Do you hear yourselves? You’re both asking me permission, but it sounds like this is out of all of our control.” He pauses to take a breath. “Sure, fine. You guys want to roll around in the bed? Be my guest. But I suggest we figure this out first, just in case that’s the curse talking.”

When Dean opens his mouth to protest, Sam sends him a look that Cas can’t see. The brothers stare at each other for a minute, having a silent conversation, the Sam says lowly, “How would you feel if you did this, and Cas didn’t want it?”

He tries to interrupt, “I do–”

Sam talks over him, voice still serious, “If this thing wore off, and you found out that you forced him. When he has no control, no choice.”

Dean’s expression wavers. He takes a breath then, shoulders slumping, he commands, “Cas, get out of here.”

Sam releases a sigh of relief.

Cas tries really hard not to stomp around the bunker. It’s a childish urge, he knows, but there’s nothing else he wants to do more than let his frustrations out.

Sam smartly ignores him. He pushes out a chair as he passes and Cas takes a seat, staring down at the piles upon piles of books.

“Have you found anything?”

He doesn’t look up from the passage he’s skimming. “No, but I think we should try to locate the missing kids. There were two, and at the time, we only found one. Maybe there’s something we’re not getting.”

Cas shuffles, leaning from side to side restlessly. “If we go out, can Dean come?”

Sam gives him a look.

He scowls back. “It’s not fair, leaving him locked up like this.”

“No,” Sam says slowly. “If I’m being honest, I think you should be chained up as well.”

Startled, Cas asks, “What?”

Sam leans forward. “How are you feeling, Cas? Really.”

“I don’t know. Like there’s…” he waves a hand at himself. “Like there’s something I have to do. And I’m mad that I can’t do it.”

“You mean, do Dean?”

Cas stares.

“Don’t give me that look. That’s actually not what I’m concerned about.” A pause. “Cas, you saw the other victim. He wasn’t screaming for his boyfriend to come for him, he was after anyone. Now, logically, if the monster wanted offspring, it would be easier to only infect the… the one with the womb. The one that would be carrying its child.”

“So, you’re saying that Dean was infected by mistake?”

“No, that’s the thing,” Sam taps his chin. “It was couples going missing, not just girls. If this thing can put a curse on the women, make them want to breed, then that would be easy. But why would it be taking people with already established relationships?”

While Cas pauses to think about that, Sam’s eyes slide over him. “I guess it’s too late to ask your intentions towards my brother.”

“I…” he hesitates. “Sam, you know I value the time we spend together. All three of us. But with Dean…”

Sam waves his hand. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just need to ask. The way you feel—not the wanting to jump my brother part—but the other things. You felt this way before?”

“Umm,” he tries to think, but his mind gets stuck on jumping Dean. Because he very much wants to do that. “Yes. I’ve always been drawn towards Dean.”

Sam nods. “Now, how do you feel about me?”

A pause. A long one.

“I’m not fishing. Genuinely, does this curse make you want to jump my bones, too?”

Cas tries to imagine it, but the need coursing through him keeps overlaying his face with Dean’s. Before he can say so, there’s yelling from down the hall.

They both spring up and Cas is sprinting down the hall before he can even think twice. Sam’s steps are on his heels, right behind him.

He shoves open the door to the bedroom and takes in the sight. Dean is crouched on the bed, arm still chained but bleeding. He yanks at the metal with another feral sound, blood dripping onto the sheets.

He’s hard, tenting through his pants, but Sam avoids looking. Instead, he holds out a hand like he’s trying to tame a wild animal. “Dean?”

Panting, Dean swings his wide eyes over to them. He takes in his brother, then Cas, and the tension falls away from his body.

After a minute, he says, “Sorry.”

Sam doesn’t step closer, and he holds out his arm when Cas tries to. “What happened?”

“I- I don’t know. I was…” He glances down, then back up. “I was thinking and all of a sudden it was like I couldn’t control myself.”

“Impulse control.” Sam says, “I think this is affecting your impulse control. Taking it away.”

Dean frowns.

“Were you thinking about getting to Cas?”

After a second, Dean nods. His expression is ashamed, and he won’t look Cas in the eye.

Sam sighs. “Okay, I think I get it now.”

They all wait for the revelation. Sam gives them a grimace.

“So, the monster wants children, but has no way of getting them. It doesn’t have genitals, so it has to infect others, like a parasite.” He gestures to Cas, then Dean. “Meaning it needs a womb to use and sperm to give.”

He ignores both of their awkward shuffling and continues with a brave face. “That would only work if it can affect its victims’ need to breed. Now this, this is where it stumped me.”

Sam turns, beginning to pace. Dean and Cas watch him like a tennis match. “Obviously, the human who’d been transformed wanted it. And when Cas touched him, it did something, didn’t it?”

Cas takes a second to respond, unsure if the question was rhetorical. “Yes. I would say that skin-on-skin contact made me more inclined to… breed with the human.”

“Mhmm,” Sam says, like Cas has confirmed something he already knows. “Meaning the one with the womb, the transformed one, has some sort of pheromone or something that makes people want to have sex.”

“But…” Both Dean and Cas say at the same time, and Sam holds a finger out to silence them.

“But touching Cas hasn’t affected anyone? How do you know?” He holds out his hands. “I haven’t touched him.”

They all think about this. Hesitantly, Cas confirms, “You haven’t. And this all started after Dean cut my hair.”

Dean sits up. “Wait, wait.”

“I’m the stimulant.”

Dean tries to argue, but Sam stops him by stepping closer to Cas. He’s studying Dean's expression as he says, “We can test it. If I touch him, it will activate—”

The chain jerks, whole bedframe rattling as Dean tries to lunge. “Don’t touch him.”

“Okay,” Sam breathes, taking a step back. “You’ve been infected. I was right. It is only the one carrying the offspring that matters.”

“I don’t think this is a time to be boasting,” Cas says warily, eyeing Dean’s furious expression.

“But this narrows it down.” Sam takes a few more steps back. “Cas, you shouldn’t be in contact with anyone until we get this fixed. Dean–”

When they turn their gazes back to him, they’re shocked to see his flushed face growing pale. He sways. “Does… does this mean that everyone’s going to try to fuck Cas?”

Sam frowns with concern. “No, if we keep him here–”

Sam’s cut off by a high-pitched whine in the back of Dean's throat. Shocked, they watch blood leak from his nose. A moment later, he slumps forward.

“Dean–” Cas steps forward, but jerks back before he can bump into Sam, who’s doing the same.

“Dean!”

They crowd around him, on either side, so that they don’t accidentally touch. Sam put a hand to his forehead, tilting his head back. His eyes remain shut.

“He’s burning up.”

Worried, Cas grabs his hand and his eyes spring open, full of life. Cas has no time to do anything before arms are wrapping around him.

Sam reaches out to stop him but hesitates. Dean pulls him towards himself, wrapping his legs around his hips. Cas is caught by all of his limbs.

A grinding motion starts up, Dean thrusting his clothed erection at his hip. Cas feels the zipper of his jeans dig at his skin, but he wouldn’t call the sensation unpleasant.

He turns his head to face Sam, tucking his chin over Dean’s shoulder to get a good look. Sam looks torn, wanting to force them away from each other but unable to do so without touching Cas.

“It’s okay,” Cas says calmly. It’s more to reassure Sam, but he feels Dean relax, holding instead of gripping.

“You’ve mapped out everything,” Cas continues. “Dean is already infected. I can’t touch anyone else. This is fine.”

“This isn’t…”

Cas wraps his own arms around Dean’s back, giving Sam a challenging look. “There’s more affecting Dean than you thought. Let me calm him down, and then we can try to figure this out.”

Sam still shakes his head, until Cas says, “Please. I won’t take my clothes off. You can even stay here, just turn away so that Dean is less embarrassed when this all blows over.”

Pursing his lips, Sam finally agrees. He steps outside the bedroom, leaving the door cracked, but allowing them more privacy than they’re due.

“Okay, Dean,” Cas murmurs. “I’m here.”

The entire body hold doesn’t release, but Cas manages to get his hand wedged between them. He trails down, finding where his hips are working so hard, pumping back and forth. Taking the waistband in his hand, he yanks, ripping the button on his fly open. The movement makes the zipper fall down on its own, so they’re left with the damp boxers peeking out.

Taking hold of the hard length through the fabric, Cas squeezes.

Dean finally pulls away with a groan, falling back on his elbows and arching his hips. He’s giving Cas more space to work with, but the jeans are confining most of the movement.

“Dean, I’m going to get up.” At the cry of dismay, Cas continues, “I need to get these off you. Are you okay with that?”

Dean pants, eyes swirling with emotion. Cas thinks he might not be able to hear him, but he doesn’t move as Cas stands. He lets him take his pants off, lifting his hips when required. Cas doesn’t waste time, taking the jeans and boxers off all at once.

His erection springs forward, red and leaking. Cas stares at it and finally, he feels some hesitance. He’s snapped out of it a moment later when Dean whines.

“Lube?”

“Drawer,” he growls.

Cas scrambles, finding the bottle and squirting a generous amount on his hands. Dean hisses when Cas grabs him, and its only then that Cas realizes that, while his erection is really, really warm, the lube is cold. The contrast is probably unpleasant.

Already making mistakes, Cas strokes slowly. He watches Dean for a reaction.

Dean squints at him. “You can grip harder. I’m not going to break.”

When Cas does, Dean tilts his head back and Cas gets a long view of his throat, watching him swallow. His hand continues to pump, growing faster in increments.

His whole body is straining, starting to thrash. At first, Cas assumes it’s from pleasure, but when Dean calls out his name, he sounds anguished.

“Cas, it’s not–it’s not helping. I need–” he pants. He tosses his head, and a strangled groan comes out of his mouth.

Cas tightens his grip, thinking that he might be doing it wrong. His hand speeds up a little more and Dean’s hips curl with the motion, chasing the feeling.

Despite how his body is responding, Dean growls out, “No!”

He grabs Cas’ wrist, gripping possessively. He doesn’t stop the motion, but he doesn’t adjust it either. His eyes shine just as his face twists into a furious expression. “I need to fuck you. Let me go.”

The chain rattles to emphasize his words.

Cas mouth parts, which gives him an idea. “You can use my throat–”

“Take off. Your clothes.” He commands, and Cas realizes that he’s no longer hearing him. On his next stroke up, he lays a finger across the leaking tip and digs.

Dean twitches, but otherwise doesn’t react. His hand tightens on Cas’ wrist and yanks him forward.

He falls into his chest, hand no longer trying to get him off. Dean pulls him up, holding his arm in the air and using his other hand to yank at Cas’ shorts.

Cas struggles but tries his best to not make any noise. He doesn’t want Sam to come in, to see them like this. Then they’ll really never be able to be in contact.

“Dean,” Cas tries to control the shake in his voice. “What do you need?”

In answer, he tugs at the waistband again. They slide down an inch.

“Okay, okay,” he pants. “But you need to let me go. I’ll take them off.”

He’s released immediately, which surprises Cas. He scrambles up and away, watching Dean warily. When all he does is sit there, waiting, Cas takes a second to breathe.

He takes a step towards the door and Dean’s calm facial expression breaks into one of desperation. “You said–”

“We can’t.” Cas tries to will himself not to feel bad, watching his words break his heart. He takes another step away.

The chain snaps. Before Cas can register that, Dean’s upon him.

They fumble, aggressive in their movements. Cas tries to incapacitate him, and Dean takes the moment to shove Cas’ shorts down.

The fabric now around his legs hurts his mobility. So, when Dean kicks his legs out from under him, his fall is almost expected.

Dean dives on top of him.

At first, he grips his wrists, holding his arms above his head and pressing down. Then, his hands release and slide up, entwining their fingers together.

Dean firmly wedges himself where he wants, parting Cas’ legs to press against him.

Cas cradles him between his thighs, eyes gazing up into his bright ones. Dean looks wild, eyebrows pinched in pain from resisting his urges.

“I have to,” he says, beginning to rock his hips.

His erection rubs over him, the cotton of the undergarments he was given the only thing in between them. “Cas, Cas,” he cries into his ear. He grinds down hard enough that Cas knows he would be inside him if he didn’t have any clothing. His erection strains, trying the pierce the cloth.

Cas’ breath hitches with emotion, “Dean. Fight it.” He carefully doesn’t struggle.

“Oh, god, let me,” Dean shakes, trying to keep still, “Please just let me.” He bucks down against him again, harder.

Then he stops holding back, thrusting at an even pace. The pressure against him feels good, but it’s not enough.

Cas takes a heavy breath, feeling his underwear grow damp with his own arousal. His thighs fall open a little more, allowing Dean to gain leverage.

He growls with his next set of thrusts, bearing down harshly. Cas finds his own hips arching up, inviting.

This is how Sam finds them. With a click, Sam takes the safety off his gun and presses it against Dean’s back. “Get up,” he says carefully, “Let Cas go.”

Dean’s cries have stopped. He is dangerously quiet, his hips pressed firmly down against Cas’, only circling a minor amount. He lifts his head a little, and this is when Cas finally sees his eyes shining a feral gold. Unnatural.

Cas sucks in a breath and calls a warning, “Sam-!”

But he’s too late. Dean releases him and spins around all at once. The gun is knocked away in their sudden struggle, bouncing across the floor. And Dean uses inhuman strength to haul Sam up and toss him across the room before anyone can react. Before Sam hits the ground, Dean is already looking back at Cas.

Cas scrambles backwards, trying to get away. Before he can even get onto his feet, Dean’s on him.

He holds Cas down, hand gripping both of Cas’ wrists in a bruising hold. Using his other hand, he slides down Cas’ body to reach between them and grip Cas’ panties. He doesn’t hesitate, just pulls, cotton ripping easily under the pressure. Cas is suddenly, horribly bare. Any arousal he felt earlier dried up as soon as Dean’s eyes shined gold.

Dean’s expression goes from feral to blank right when Cas is exposed. He trails his eyes down to where his hand hovers over Cas’s mound. He breathes.

Then Sam is back, shoving Dean off of him. He falls to the side, more out of surprise than a match of strength.

An inhuman snarl leaves his throat, and he doesn’t even look at the gun that Sam’s scrambling for, just pounces.

They struggle, and Cas takes the moment to stand. Getting his feet under him, he pauses, unsure. Should he leave them to their fight, leaving one of them to get hurt? Would running away help since he’s taking the catalyst out of the room? He needs to be careful; he can’t touch Sam.

The bang of the gun going off makes his decision for him. The bullet hits the opposite wall, not hurting anyone, but the attempt was made.

Cas lunges forward, gripping Dean from behind and pulling him away.

Dean goes easily, which was so unexpected that they both fall over in a tangle of limbs, Dean half turning so he’s on top of him.

Cas has to shout, “Wait, stop!” Three times over until Sam realizes that he’s talking to him with the gun and not Dean with the threatening erection. Because Dean isn’t trying anything anymore.

He’s frozen once more, staring down with an amazed look at Cas’ bare body.

Breathing shallowly, Cas says, “Sam, put the gun down.”

Sam starts to protest heatedly, which makes Dean tense up. Cas talks over him, “Shut up! You’re not going to shoot him. I’d rather die bearing his child than him die because he can’t fight the instincts placed upon him.”

Sam looks conflicted at that, the gun wavering. Finally, he aims it at the ground, still not dropping it.

In a tight voice, he says, “What am I supposed to do? You want me to just let him? He’d hate me, after, if you got hurt. If you died.”

Dean shifts, pulling himself away. His eyes flare gold and he winces in pain, but he still sits back.

Cas breathes, “He’s not completely out of it.” Then, softer, he murmurs, “You’re not going to hurt me, are you, Dean?”

Dean shakes his head, hands clawing into the floor to restrain himself. His expression floods with pain.

“You can’t have sex,” Sam says despairingly. Dean tenses again.

“Okay.” Cas looks into Dean’s eyes, trying to get a glimpse of the man behind the curse. “Okay, that’s fine. You just have to trust us.”

“Don’t let Dean do this,” Sam begs. He’s begging for the both of them.

Cas, despite his fear, closes his eyes. “He won’t. I know Dean, and he won’t let something as simple as this take over his mind.”

No one moves. Even the air feels still.

“I trust him,” Cas continues, choked. “So, you need to leave the room now, Sam. Let me handle this. Let your brother keep his dignity, at least.”

After a moment, he hears the door click shut. Like a final farewell.

Cas makes a startled noise when Dean starts to touch him. He caresses him with his fingers. Up and down, stroking at his sensitive parts. He opens his eyes.

Cas watches, seeing the expression turn curious, then almost peaceful. The gold fades from his eyes just as his finger reaches Cas’ entrance.

Dean blinks a couple times, finger circling around and around. He looks back up at Cas’ face.

Dean must see the fear in his eyes because his finger doesn’t penetrate.

Like an apology, his other hand joins the first, seeking out Cas’ clit and circling it. At the same time, the finger near his entrance follows the rhythm, stroking him in time.

It takes a couple minutes for Cas to start enjoying it. Once he sees that Dean intends to do nothing more, he relaxes a bit and lets Dean touch him.

The pace stays lazy, completely opposite to the frantic movements from before. It’s pleasant, even, and Dean’s fingers begin to slide smoother.

As wetness gathers, Cas wonders if Dean could just enter him from behind. If that would be enough to get him off, get him sane. But he’s not sure he trusts him, now, to put his erection anywhere near him. He obviously doesn’t have enough control for that.

At some point, Cas’ eyes had closed. When he cracks them open, he sees that Dean’s have closed as well. He looks to be savoring the moment.

Cas is a little concerned, not being able to see his eyes if they turn. As if sensing this, Dean’s eyes reopen a little to admire the body spread below him, growing more and more wet for him.

The build comes leisurely, this time. Cas isn’t sure if he’ll ever reach the end this way, but it seems as if they’re both content to try.

He slides back down, hovering once more over his entrance. His fingers pause there, pulsing a little. The pressing rhythm is gentle, so soft that Cas almost can’t feel it.

He gathers up the slick that’s leaking from him, pushing back up towards his nub and stroking. Cas moans softly.

There’s a heat behind his stomach, building and building. Dean must sense it, for his hand slows perfectly, just as he’s about to reach the peak. “Feel okay?” He murmurs.

Cas feels his toes curl, looking into Dean’s eyes. He’s here, in complete control.

Dean startles a bit, and Cas can’t figure out why until he realizes that his eyes have blurred not just from emotion, but tears.

Dean’s words are clipped, like he’s still holding back. “I won’t do more than this. I promise. I just need to touch you.”

Cas nods. In the back of his mind, he worries that Dean will end up needing more and more until he won’t be able to help himself. The beginning of their downfall. But for now, he reassures him, “Then that’s fine.”

With permission granted, Dean doesn’t hold back. He strokes and strokes, pushing towards the edge once more. He ignores the tensing on Cas’ stomach, his legs straightening out in preparation as the feeling gets to be too much. His eyes roll back, and he moans, long and low, right as he hits the end.

He orgasms with Dean’s hands on him. His thoughts, worries, are swept away as he shudders through it. Cas feels like this is a sacred moment, despite the circumstances.

Then Dean rasps, “Again.” And his hand continues.

Cas panics for a moment, legs trying to jerk away. Then the sensitivity rolls over into pleasure once more and he allows it.

Panting, he asks, “Are you okay?”

Dean watches him with eyes darkened in lust. “In control of all my senses, Cas.”

“G-good.” He arches, and the fingers follow, not letting up. “We’ll find a cure. I’m okay with this, but it can’t go on forever.”

Dean arches a brow. “You don’t think so?”

Cas bites his lip. His face is flushed, panting breaths loud. The sound of his fingers dipping through his arousal even louder.

Dean caresses him to release again. And again. Cas is shaking after the third one, sweating through his shirt.

On the fourth, he seizes, writhing underneath Dean’s touch. Dean’s hold on him doesn’t loosen, nor does he stop caressing his clit. Dean rides it out with him, pressing firmly when Cas’ hips make an attempt to buck him off.

He shudders, pushing Dean’s arm to signal that he’s finished.

But Dean isn’t.

Tears leak from Cas’ eyes, an involuntary response. He wonders if its possible to be tortured by too much pleasure. He thinks he’d be okay dying that way, if it’s by Dean’s hands. The pleasure goes on and on.

Dean doesn’t stop the third or the fourth time Cas tries to push him away. He’s hypnotized by Cas undulating for him, but he also looks calmer than before.

Cas writhes slowly, waist arching and legs spread. After his body seizes in yet another orgasm, he desperately tries to pull away, clamping his legs shut and sitting up.

But Dean’s hand stays on him, squirming between his thighs and rubbing against him still. His movements grow rougher despite the restriction, pressing harder and moving faster.

Cas finds it hard to focus, almost panicking. He squeezes his thighs together and Dean’s hand just buries itself deeper, the whole hand moving now instead of just his fingers. Trying to make up for Cas failing to hold him still.

He twists his hips, but it’s as if Dean is attached to him, hand never leaving his skin. He finds himself having to spread his legs once more so that he can try to pull his fingers away. He shoves at Dean’s arm, but he’s not strong enough to beat Dean’s insistent touch. His thumb grinds into his clit, making Cas flinch at the oversensitivity.

He jerks his head up, about to beg Dean to stop, but the words die on his tongue. The golden hue is back, twirling mockingly on his iris and blocking out his pupil entirely.

He sucks in a sharp breath.

The sensitivity he can handle. He’s okay as long as Dean doesn’t try to penetrate him. And, as things are going now, it doesn’t look like entering him is even crossing his mind. His fingers are focused wholly on his clit, lighting the little bundle of nerves on fire over and over.

He’s fine. He’s been through torture before, and this isn’t even close to the pain he’s endured. What could too much pleasure even do to him? He can handle this.

He sticks with this mantra for at least another half hour before he starts to break down.

Dean continues to rub and rub and rub and Cas’ mouth opens in a silent scream. His eyes roll back as he spasms, body tightening. His hands clench at the fabric around Dean’s sleeve, digging his nails in as the muscles work against him.

Dean never pauses, not even when he’s actively bringing him release. Cas’ orgasm rolls through him while Dean is already seeking the next one out. His clit throbs underneath his fingers in time with the rapid beating of his heart.

Cas tries bucking his hips, but Dean calmly pursues him, hand never leaving his skin.

He’s so wet at this point that friction is hard to come by. Dean’s hand glides smoothly, pressing down in intervals. Cas hopes he gets tired soon but has no faith that Dean would be the one to give up first.

The next time he reaches his peak, dots appear in his vision and he grows dizzy. He slackens, on the verge of passing out. He knows he can’t handle any more.

His breaths heave in, trying to fight the inevitable. He struggles to regain himself, and he lets out one last pathetic whine, “Dean...”

The entire time, Dean’s eyes had never been in focus, like his mind is somewhere else while his hands are taking Cas apart. With Cas’ last breathy plea, he finally blinks and his eyes shift minutely, like he’s taking in what’s in front of him. After a moment, he meets Cas’ watery gaze. The golden light swirls in his eyes, lessening somewhat.

But his hand does not stop.

Cas reaches forward to push weakly at his arm once more, hoping to get the message across. Dean follows the movement and looks down at his hand as if it’s not his own, expression fascinated.

Cas whines when Dean’s gaze starts to drift far away once more, but he snaps out of it. His other hand that’s not busy torturing him comes up and cards through Cas’ hair. The motion startles him, eyes growing wide as Dean tugs him forward to press his lips to his forehead.

The motions feel like an apology. Cas would have relaxed into him, but then the hand in between his legs speeds up in a way it hadn’t before. Like it was actively seeking out an orgasm rather than passively receiving one.

He cries out, pulling away and struggling as hard as he can. He tries to scoot backwards, but Dean’s hand slides out of his hair to encircle his waist and keep him close. He kicks out but doesn’t hit anything at the angle he’s at. The effort only spreads him wider, inviting Dean’s hand to press onto him even more.

The pressure is bruising. Tears escape his eyes and trail themselves down his face as he pleads for Dean to release him.

Dean tightens his hold, bringing him closer in a hug. His fingers grab hold of his clit and roll the swollen nub around and around as Cas garbles protests into his neck.

Dean keeps him tucked close and shushes him, humming soothingly, “It’s almost over. Just one more.”

The reassurance doesn’t help. Despite the circling of his abused clit speeding up, his body is not capable of producing another orgasm. He’s already been wrung dry, and he can’t take anymore.

Cas tries to explain this through sobs. Dean listens to him babble, humming as if in agreement but speeding up his hand in reply, as if Cas has issued him a challenge rather than a plea to stop.

“No, no,” Cas shivers as the spots in his vision grow larger. Dean tilts his head a little and gives him another kiss next to his ear.

Another wave of sobs crash through him. He buries his head further into Dean’s neck and cries, seeking comfort from the one causing his distress.

And Dean responds the way he aches for, rubbing his back and murmuring soothing words into his ear. The disconnect between the gentle reassurances and the painful grinding against him is enough to drive Cas mad.

This goes on for long enough that Cas runs out of tears. He lets out a pathetic whine and Dean coos, “I know, baby. We’re almost done.”

Then, Cas’ breath hitches as he feels another orgasm building inside him. This shouldn’t be possible; his body is already giving him signals that he can’t go through with it. Would it really betray him?

The answer to that is a very determined ‘yes.‘ His body would allow this as many times as Dean wants. And Dean himself is not in the position to want anything less.

If Cas had more energy, he’d be screaming. As it is, he can’t stop the cries pulling themselves from his throat.

“Ah, ah - Dean, no.” He shakes, shifting his hips to try to pull away, but Dean’s hand doesn’t even pause, just rocks with him. Cas is too weak to do much else.

The next time his body tenses is the last time he’s conscious. His eyes roll back as he spasms and he passes out before he even comes back down.

Much later, he comes to with a sense of dread, expecting the worst. But he’s covered with a blanket now, and no soreness is felt between his legs. Dean didn’t touch him after he passed out.

He hears the splash before he sees what’s happening. Turning his head, he watches Dean pour holy oil onto the floor and the dread rises back to the surface.

“What are you doing?” He rasps out quietly.

It’s as if Dean doesn’t hear him. He finishes circling the room, careful to move anything that can catch on fire out of the way. He’s moved his bed away from the wall, so that Cas can lie comfortably in the middle of the room as he makes it impossible for him to leave it.

“Dean.” Cas sits up. He holds a handout, hoping to make him pause, but it doesn’t work. He pours out the rest, and Cas considers running. But then Dean lights a match and drops it, and the room is ignited.

It’s only then that Dean goes to him. He takes his outstretched hand and brings it to his face as he sits beside him. Dean kisses his palm, looking at him with an apologetic expression.

“You can’t leave.” Dean says, “They’ll try to breed you. I’ll keep you safe.”

Cas shifts, realizing that Dean must have cleaned him up while he was out. Dean watches him rock side to side.

“I’m sorry. I went too far. But, those urges, they went away. It’s like you cured them.”

Cas doesn’t pull his hand away. He looks at Dean sadly. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Dean looks like he’s about to cry. He gets up, pulling away. “I’m going to go get some food. Sam’s hiding in his room—or out, I don’t know—so just call if you need anything, okay?”

Cas nods, settling back down. He stares off to the far wall, not watching as Dean steps over the fire and out into freedom.

He comes back a short time later, a variety of snack in his hands. He dumps them all over the side table, fidgeting and bouncing on his heals.

Cas eyes him, wary. “Are you okay?”

Dean jolts, like he wasn’t expecting him to speak. “Me? Yeah, I’m fine. How are you doing, Cas?”

There’s sweat running down his hairline. His pupils are dilated, face flushed. Cas sits up.

“This isn’t working, is it?”

Dean blinks, hard. “What?”

Cas reaches out, placing the back of his hand on Dean’s cheek. Dean’s own hand comes up, lacing their fingers together and pulling him away, but not before Cas feels his temperature.

“Here,” Dean says, placing his hand over his chest. “Feel.”

His heartbeat is racing, a strong, steady beat. As Cas touches him, it slows, almost back to a normal pace. They make eye contact.

Cas stands, processing. Dean waits, not moving any closer.

“Have you talked to Sam?” he asks. When Dean’s lip unconsciously curls into a sneer, he explains, “If this is affecting your functions that badly, it could be killing you.”

A silent moment. Then Dean says, “The symptoms go away when you’re touching me.”

“Yes, but it was my touching you that started this. I might be making it worse.”

“No, it- it hurts when I’m not around you. Even going to the kitchen-” he lets out a haggard laugh that doesn’t sound amused “-even there, I couldn’t see straight. Everything reminded me that I had to get back to you.”

Cas frowns. Dean takes hesitant steps towards him, face already looking pale. “So, so if you’re okay with–” he waves a hand “-with all this. I’d really, really like to touch you now.”

Cas sighs, taking a step forward and bring them closer all at once. Dean freezes at the unexpected motion.

“Dean, I don’t mind you touching me. I’m okay with that, even if the risk to your health wasn’t involved. I’m concerned that this won’t stop, that you’ll never get better.”

Dean’s eyes have hazed over, but he shakes his head roughly, trying to clear it. “Sam’s looking for a cure. He won’t leave us like this.” His hands twitch, visibly restraining himself.

Cas studies him for a moment, long enough that his fidgeting turns into rocking, like he’s trying to distract himself. “You can touch me now. But–” he holds up a finger, motioning for him to wait. Dean freezes with his hands in the air. “You should slow down. For my health, as well as yours. The experience will last longer if you’re not trying to wring me dry.”

Dean drops to his knees suddenly. “Thank you.” His eyes gaze upon him like he’s worshipping him.

Then he wrenches his legs, making them spread. The violence of the action is overshadowed by Dean’s careful hands, rubbing first at his knees, then sliding up to his inner thighs.

Dean pats his shoulder. “Put your foot here.” He looks up at him through his lashes, waiting.

Cas shifts his weight with indecision. That would spread his thighs even more. After debating for a moment, he listens.

“Keep your legs open,” Dean mutters, staring in-between them.

Cas jerks at the first touch, watching Dean as he slides his two fingers on him. He’s lightly caressing him, almost teasing. The hand strokes at him until he calms down, growing aroused once more.

He tries to dip his finger inside and Cas stiffens, his thighs closing as much as they were able, with his foot still on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean doesn’t scold him, instead he tries at a different angle. He slides his finger against him, running parallel so that the slide feels natural. He reaches Cas’ entrance without him even realizing it. He’s able to glide seamlessly in, easing into the tight heat.

The foot Cas has on the ground goes up on its toes, instinctively trying to pull away from the strange sensation. Dean’s hand follows, patient.

His hands move slowly, the finger dipping deeper inch by inch. Cas had never had anything inside him before; he can feel his walls clenching around the intrusion. It’s not unpleasant.

Eventually, the strain on his toes becomes uncomfortable. He flattens his foot, and Dean’s finger sinks all the way in.

It feels - weird. Not painful, but not pleasurable either.

“You haven’t had anything like this, huh, angel?” He asks, stirring his finger inside him.

Cas doesn’t answer the obvious. He feels his heart clench at the term of endearment. It’s then that Cas realizes that Dean’s fingers are growing wet, meaning Cas is growing very wet. He likes the sensation.

He thrusts the fingers in and out, mimicking what he really wants to do. On his next pull out, he adds another finger and sinks them into him. Cas makes a noise and Dean’s eyes flicker up towards his face.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. He keeps their eyes locked as he thrust in and out, testing Cas’ reactions.

Cas tries to keep his noises down, pressing his lips together. Dean splays his fingers, stretching him, and grins when his hips jerk automatically.

“Hah - Dean.” Cas feels crazy with want, but he’s not sure what he wants.

Dean hums, smiling. Steady.

“I would fuck you so hard.” Dean emphasizes his point by pushing harder, deeper. Again, Cas is surprised by how good it feels. His knees weaken as he imagines Dean actually being inside him, over him.

Cas almost can’t handle the thought. Dean keeps on fucking him with his hand, plunging in and out. His movements are impatient, except for the way he begins trailing kisses up his thighs.

Cas moans, unable to focus. He writhes underneath his hand, hips rocking against the fingers fucking into him.

Then he changes the motion. His fingers start to curl and Cas sways at the unexpected feeling. Dean continues, rubbing at his walls in a different direction, as if searching.

When he finds it, it’s Cas that lets him know with a loud, “Oh!” His whole body spasms and jerks, not sure if he wants to get away or not. The sensation is overwhelming.

But Dean doesn’t pause, stroking the same spot over and over.

“Dean, it’s...” Cas mouth stays open, and his words turn into sounds. His moans turn high-pitched, rolling into a whine. His back arches, legs feeling weak.

The motions don’t stop; the fingers prodding relentlessly at that one area, reducing Cas to cries. His hands scramble, gripping Dean’s shoulders to hold himself steady while his eyes roll back a bit.

Dean shushes him. “That’s it, just focus on my hand.” His thumb nudges up, finding his throbbing clit and pressing down at it insistently.

Mind a white noise, Cas doesn’t notice when Dean’s eyes begin to shine. He rolls his hips into his hand, enjoying the sensations.

Dean grips his ankle and pulls, making Cas spread wider. Off balance, it only takes one careful nudge to the knee bracing his weight to bring him down.

Dean catches him, making sure he doesn’t hit the ground too hard. His ass touches the cold floor, shocking him out of his stupor.

On reflex, he slams his legs shut, but Dean quickly overpowers him, shoving them open. He pauses, then, looking almost scared by his strength. He looks at Cas. “I won’t take my clothes off. I just need to see you.”

He starts to rub at his inner thighs, massaging them. Cas stops fighting and they open wider and wider. Dean looks fascinated.

In a harsh rasp, he says, “This might help.”

Then he bends down, kissing him between his legs. Cas lets out a small gasp.

Dean’s hand slides to join his mouth, spreading him and exploring him up and down. He sets his forearms on his thighs, keeping them wide open.

His kisses turn from pecking into nips, then into full licking. His shoulders lose some of their tension.

Cas observes him, watching his whole body unwind. Dean’s tongue slides itself inside him and Cas feels himself clench. His stomach flutters for a moment and his breathing picks up. He’s wide open and vulnerable, but this doesn’t seem to be a bad thing.

Dean hums, acknowledging his enjoyment. His gaze flicks up briefly, then he buries his face further and his licks continue leisurely. Cas lays back, letting him do what he wants. He’s exhausted, worrying over Dean for the past few hours. He’s sure Dean is equally frustrated, unfamiliar with the sudden urges overtaking his body. This is better. At least Dean is okay, and Cas can keep an eye on him.

Cas doesn’t acknowledge the pleasure at first. The constant wet warmth sliding against him in a gentle rhythm is hypnotic. He analyzes it from Dean’s perspective, seeing how it affects him. But then another thorough lick has his back arching. His legs fall wider, hand hovering over his head, about to push him down.

He stops himself. Then, as he’s watching, he sees Dean start to tense up again, licks turning from lazy to purposeful.

Footsteps sound outside, then Sam pounds on the door. “Dean!”

Cas taps Dean on the head, words coming out breathless, “You should let your brother in.”

Dean growls, sending a jolt through him at the slight vibration. His tongue never pauses.

Cas taps him again. “It’s okay. You’re doing fine. He won’t separate us as long as you aren’t... penetrating.”

Still, Dean doesn’t make an indication of moving. Instead, his licks are starting to have focus, speeding up more. He has now doubled his efforts, not giving in for a second.

A small whine comes out of Cas’ throat. His hips start to rock and Dean presses down, trying to keep him still. But then he focuses his attention on his clit and Cas begins jerking even harder.

The handle wiggles a little, the door starting to get pushed open. Sam calls out to his brother again.

Like a dog with a bone he shouldn’t have, Dean speeds up his licking as fast as he can. Cas eyes lose focus a little and he struggles to keep them open, feeling Dean’s tongue darting over him.

The hinges screech as the door is pushed open. Sam comes in, mouth set into a hard line. He holds out his gun, “Dean, don’t make me-“

“It’s okay.” Cas says, taking a gasping breath. “He’s not doing anything.”

Sam’s eyes grow a little wild, looking at where Dean is for a moment before looking away completely, “Cas, he’s definitely doing something-“

“He stopped himself. He-” Cas is finding it difficult to talk, something building in him. “He hasn’t done anything.”

“This isn’t about-” Sam looks awkward, then frustrated, still staring at the wall, “It doesn’t matter if he hasn’t penetrated you. He’s still obviously lost control.”

“No,” Cas’ eyes threaten to roll back in his head. “No, it’s...” Something like a mewl comes out of his mouth.

Sam completely turns away when Cas’ hips buck, the noise of Dean’s mouth loud in the otherwise silent room. Cas covers his mouth.

Then the wave crashes over him.

Everything is fuzzy for a couple minutes after that. Dean doesn’t immediately pull away and Cas is too lax and twitchy to care. He doesn’t realize that Dean is winding down.

One last lick, then Dean sits back. He looks at Cas, head tilted in apology. His eyes are normal.

Still breathing heavy, Cas gives him a slight nod.

Dean turns to Sam. “I have it under control.”

It seems that was what Sam was waiting for. “Like hell you do,” he bursts out, “You were growling, Dean, like some sort of animal. And Cas-” he falters, looking over at Cas, before continuing in a more controlled voice, “Cas doesn’t deserve this. He didn’t ask for this and he sure as hell didn’t give any consent.”

Cas tries to interrupt the argument before it begins. “I did, actually. I told him that he could do whatever he wanted with me as long as it took away the pain. As long as he didn’t try to... breed me.”

“Consent under the influence of anything is not consent.”

Cas takes a breath, frustrated. “Then neither of us are at fault, seeing as we’re both being influenced.”

Sam turns to Dean, ignoring him. “I’ll bring you someone else,” Sam is saying, but a white noise fills Cas’ ears before he can hear anymore.

It’s only Dean’s indignant, “Hell no!” That snaps him out of it.

Eyes flashing once more, Dean’s next word come out in a rumble, “If you’re trying to be helpful, why don’t you start by figuring out how to cure us?”

Sam grits his teeth. “Two days. You guys get two days for me to figure this out. If I can’t by then, I’m sending you to different sides of the map. Maybe the distance will help.” With that, he storms out, slamming the heavy door behind him.

There’s a moment where neither of them moves. Then Dean looks back at Cas and he spreads his legs in invitation, causing Dean to immediately dives in with a low grunt.

He falls back onto the pillows. The tongue between his legs feels warm and smooth and almost hypnotic with the way its pace is steady.

Cas finds himself undulating, lifting his knees up to try to get more.

After a couple of hours, Cas finds himself dozing. Dean has released him, allowing him to roll over and plant his face into the pillows. He hears water running but doesn’t process it until there’s a dip in the mattress and a warm cloth pressing on his legs.

Cas grunts, Dean nudging his hips up until he’s lying on his lap. He has a pang of worry, but Dean just continues wiping him clean, not even grinding up with his own erection.

The swipes of the cloth don’t pause or change speed, so it feels almost casual as it dips closer and closer towards the area Dean has been touching all day. It runs over his exposed folds, fibers digging firm against his sensitive flesh. It sweeps in small circles over his clit before moving back to his entrance.

No more pressure is applied, and the touch doesn’t speed up, but the swipes that run over him don’t move now that they’ve reached his center. Cas feels it again and again until the cloth starts picking up moisture once more. He groans into his pillow, hips rocking down minutely at the stimulation.

His body grows warm, and the drowsy feeling continues as Dean swipes lazily against him. Dean is in between his thighs, his own legs pressed close. It causes Cas’ back to arch so that he’s on full display. The cloth finally pauses, pressed against him as if trying to stop a leak.

Cas breathes for a moment, eyelids drooping further as his mind grows hazy with sleep. The cloth pulls away, and he feels a hand slide on his lower back, as if keeping him steady.

Without warning, Dean uses his other hand and plunges a finger inside of him, immediately seeking out his g-spot and massaging it in earnest. Cas jerks at the sensation, but Dean presses down and keeps him in place.

“Dean!” Cas gasps into the pillow, shuddering as he targets the spot inside him. Dean widens his knees, making Cas spread further. His insides seize around the intrusion, inviting it in further as Cas cries out into the bed.

He slides another finger inside, stretching him while still working at his g-spot with precision. Cas whines, hips rocking against him desperately.

Dean makes him come like this, then he finally drifts off.

Cas blinks his eyes open hours later. Dean slumbers next to him, in a deep sleep. His arms are wrapped around him, leg thrown over his hip for good measure. Once glance around reveals that the fire is almost out, but not quite yet.

He carefully maneuvers himself out of the hold. Dean’s eyebrows scrunch and he makes a small, hurt noise. His hands clutch at the empty space.

He doesn’t leave him long, not wanting him to wake. He sits up, drawing his head into his lap, cradling him. He strokes at his hair, waiting.

Dean’s eyes open a couple of minutes later, slow to respond. His face is flushed, bags under his eyes revealing the sickly nature behind the curse.

Quiet, Cas says, “You’re burning up again.”

“It’s like...” His words slur a bit as his eyelids droop, “Like breathing. Feels natural, but when I stop, it gets uncomfortable.”

“Mhmm,” Cas hums. He tries to picture this happening every waking minute, wonders if he’d grow to hate it. For now, he doesn’t. “Want me to touch you? You can just lie there.”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “Feels better when it’s me touching you. I don’t think I can get off, not without it serving the ‘breeding’ purpose.”

Cas gives him a sultry look. “I think I can manage getting myself off using your body.”

“Oh…” A couple blinks. “Then that’s okay. Let’s try it.”

Long hours of heavy touching pass. Dean can think clearly for a couple hours after, but those times seem to shorten every cycle. A whole day passes, and Sam doesn’t come to them with good news. Or any news at all.

The next morning, Cas wakes up with a cry. It takes him a second to connect his shudders with the head that has once again found itself between his legs.

There’s no acknowledgment of Cas’ wakeful noise. In fact, Cas watches him press his face down further, so that all that Cas could see was the top of his head. His hands grip his hips, tongue patient and never pausing.

The shudders wracking through Cas are ignored as well. He tries to speak through them, “Dean. Dean, wait.”

Not only is he ignored, but he also feels lips clamp over his swollen clit, tongue snaking its way past the hood.

The sensation is painful, too much. Cas pats his shoulder firmly. “Hey.”

He knows he can’t shove him away. Not only is he too weak; fighting against him would make him more determined.

Still, Cas jerks his hips to try to dislodge him. Dean seals his lips against him and begins to suck.

Cas’ knees bend, clamping at Dean’s ribs to keep him away. His hand goes down to push his head off, but falls short. Instead, he uses his hands to clamp around his own mouth to muffle any noise. He can’t stop Dean when he’s this insistent. He can only stop himself from reacting.

Tears pool in his eyes when the pressure from his mouth seems to reach its peak. It hurt, but at the same time his body is responding with an answering heat. Cas bites back a sob, not knowing if he wants to spread his legs wider or close them forever.

Dean decides for him, making pleased noises as his tongue covers every inch of Cas’ intimate places. He doesn’t neglect his clit, so swollen and sensitive, and dives between his folds to probe at where the slick keeps gushing out, the remainder of his last orgasm and the beginning of his next.

Every groan vibrates straight to his core, filling him with a new heat. The ache is chased by sparks of pleasure until Cas can’t tell them apart.

Tears are still leaking from his eyes, even as he gasps and moans. Dean keeps going and going until Cas quivers violently beneath him.

Then Dean slides further down, no longer targeting his sensitive bud. The reprieve is slight, but welcome. His tongue probes, hands holding his hips still as he delves inside his swollen passage, open and weeping for him.

Cas moans, the intrusion unexpected. Dean tastes the new rush, groan vibrating through him again, making pleasure clash against pleasure.

He thrusts his tongue as deep as he can, trying to find the source. He laps at him, thrusting in and out, ignoring Cas’ feeble attempts to scoot away. He follows, pressing so hard that Cas is pinned to the mattress.

His hands grab at the sheets beneath him, entire mind blank as he drowns in nothing but sensation. Pleasure rocks his core, crashing over him like a series of waves. He squirms, asking Dean to pause, if only for a moment, but he’s relentless.

The thick, wet heat enters him over and over. No matter what Cas says, or how much he cries, he doesn’t let up. His body convulses so much that he can no longer tell if he’s having an orgasm, or if its just one long, continuous one.

During each encounter, he grows more aggressive. Pressing harder, holding firmer, he gets more possessive over Cas’ body. But it’s not until his thoughts start to change that Cas starts to really worry for him.

“I’m not very good at this.”

The twisting pattern of his hair is loose; the braid almost falling out despite just being done.

Cas turns to look at him. “It’s short. I think you’d do a better job if you had more hair to work with.”

Dean shakes his head, his shoulders hunching a little in shame. “Sam could probably do it better.”

Cas doesn’t say the obvious. He doesn’t mention that Dean wouldn’t let Sam touch him. Instead, he says, “That’s okay. It’s only getting messed up from rubbing on the pillow so much. Maybe next time I can stand instead of lay down.”

Dean shifts, expression uncomfortable. From the regret of his actions or the promise of new ones, Cas doesn’t know.

Cas doesn’t bother getting dressed anymore. He’s been nude more than he’s been clothed in this form. He doesn’t see the need. Dean always gets more antsy with them on, anyway.

He’s studying his body, zoning out. Then he blurts, “Can’t we just get rid of it?”

“Hmm?”

“The baby.”

Cas’ hand pauses, no longer running his fingers through his hair.

Dean continues, “I could fuck you and we can get rid of the baby before it develops. Win-win.”

He turns to face him fully. “If we’re assuming the entire point of this is to have the offspring, then the curse wouldn’t let you get rid of it.”

Dean shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “Then you can lock me up while you’re getting it done.”

Cas does his best to keep his judgment off his face, out of his tone, but a little slips through. “And if we can remove it, you’ll just be hit with the urge all over again.”

“Yeah?” Dean smiles, like he’s confused. “Then we can start all over.”

“I would rather not,” Cas says slowly, watching as Dean takes in the words, eyes shimmering. Desperate to distract him, he blurts out, “Why don’t you try it from behind?”

He tilts his head. “Huh?”

“You have lube, and I have more than one hole.”

It takes a second, but when he understands, he wastes no time.

Sam walks in on them like that. He freaks out for a second before Cas manages to lift his head off the pillow. “Wrong end.”

“Oh,” Sam’s shoulders slump in relief, eyes closing to get away from the sight. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. I’ve got some news.”

He shuts the door before he can ask. Dean is pounding him roughly, but Cas is concerned. He hasn’t come yet; he might not be able to if his mind knows this won’t accomplish anything.

Still, Dean moans out, “You feel so good.”

The slide inside him is smooth. Den had been very thorough with the stretching and the lube. The sensation is a strange one, feeling something so hot and hard breaching him, but not an unwelcome one.

“Sam said he has some news,” Cas says, muffled. Dean doesn’t reply, so he picks his head up to be clearer. “It’s only been a day and a half. That means he might have found something.”

Dean shifts, thrusting harder so that Cas’ words don’t come out as easily. “H-he might have a c-cure.”

Suddenly, Dean slides out. Cas’ hole clenches on nothing, cool air licking his insides. He’s spun around, Dean straddling his hips.

Nervous, Cas looks down at the erection so close to where it shouldn’t be. Dean catches his chin, grinding his hips down so that he slides through his folds.

“I won’t.” Cas feels the tears hit his chest before he meets Dean’s watery gaze.

The head of his erection slips against him, wet from the earlier exertions. It doesn’t penetrate him. Instead, it rubs against him.

“It’s too close. Dean...”

Dean looks devastated at the news. His voice breaks, “Please, Cas.” His hips curl once more.

He tries to shake his head, but Dean’s fingers hold him still. He leans forward, breath hot against his mouth.

Lips parting, Cas waits.

A short knock and the door opens again.

Dean pulls back quickly, a look of shame passing through his expression.

Sam smiles awkwardly, catching the motion. “Wow, it’s not like this is my first time walking in on you.”

Cas tilts his head, staring at Dean who’s pulling away. It takes him a moment to realize the difference. That was Dean. It was Dean’s actions, not brought on by any urges from the curse.

Sam holds up some papers. “I think I’ve found it. Would it be too much to ask for you guys to meet me in the library?” A pause, then, “Clothed, preferably.”

“I’d rather stay here,” Dean mutters vacantly, face flushed.

Before they can start arguing, Cas sits up. “I’d like to stretch my legs. Get some water, with my own hands.”

Dean backs down and they agree to meet up in a few minutes.

“It’s a transformative-based curse,” Sam says when they all sit down. He’s sitting up, papers spread out before him like he’s a professor about to give a lecture.

Cas gives him a weak smile, and Dean doesn’t even look at his brother.

“I’ll cut to the chase, since we want to get the ritual going soon, but it basically boils down to this: the monster made you like this to have offspring. The base of the spell is to make you have a fertile womb, but the effects that were granted with it only occur when you’re in this form.”

Cas blinks, woozy. It takes a second for the gears to turn in his head. “So, what you’re saying is…”

Taking pity, Sam cuts him off. “What I’m saying is, once you're back in your old form, all the side effects wear off.”

Dean looks up sharply at that.

Sam doesn’t notice. “That means that we’ve had the answer all along. All we’ve got to do is turn you back with the spell–”

The chair behind Dean clatters as he stands up, falling behind him. Sam and Cas swing their gazes over to him.

His eyes are glowing brighter than ever. Cas remembers their conversation, where Cas had theorized that the curse wouldn’t allow Dean to hurt the offspring. He should have realized that the threat of taking away the ability to have one would count, too.

A testament to Sam’s hunter abilities, Dean isn’t able to just lunge at him. Sam steps forward, blocking Cas with his body. In the sudden motion, their arms brush, skin against skin.

Sam throws him a look over his shoulder but is preoccupied by the feral Dean.

“Let me fuck him,” Dean snarls, gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles, as if he’s about to throw it. “He needs my child.”

Sam’s face falls in despair. “Cas, stay behind me-“

“Dean, it’s okay,” Cas tries to reassure from over Sam’s shoulder. “Just wait a moment, and we can—”

He does throw the table off to the side so that he can stride forward. Sam backs up, pressing Cas up against a bookshelf. Dean notices the contact between them and lets out a harsh snarl that doesn’t sound human.

“He’s not there.” Sam’s hands come up, tugging at the back of his shirt in frustration. “He’s lost. He can’t hear either of us anymore.”

It’s then that Cas realizes that Sam is pulling out a gun from his waistband. He shouts, “Don’t–!”

Dean is heading straight towards them, so when Sam takes aim, he can’t miss. He pulls the trigger, and everyone freezes.

Dean blinks, bringing a hand up to grasp at the dart. A rush of relief makes Cas dizzy. It’s just a tranquilizer.

Dean sways, and Sam catches him before he hits the floor.

In a familiar moment, Sam stands at the foot of Dean’s bed while Cas is in the doorway. They watch his chest rise and fall, limbs chained to the bedframe. A familiar flush is making its way over him, and Dean moans uncomfortably. He’s already sweating through his shirt.

Sam sniffs, shaking his head as Dean stirs. “The drugs are wearing off already. I need to give him another dose.”

Cas grabs his arm before he can move. “That could kill him.”

Sam bites his lip. “If his body is shaking them off this fast, it shouldn’t be hurting him.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sam says nothing because Cas is right.

When his eyes open, Dean doesn’t even take in his surroundings before he’s screaming through his gag, whole body straining to get free. He starts to sob, then the sobs turn into a muffled word. “Cas.”

He steps forward, but Sam wrenches him back.

Cas tries to pull away from the grip. “He feels better when he’s touching me!”

Sam shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s what we’re trying to undo here!”

The chains are rattling, Dean struggling to get out of them. Cas sends Sam a pleading look. “I can just hold him. He’ll calm down while you get the ritual done.”

They both hear the metal whining. Dean is stronger than anticipated.

Sam pulls him back again. “Dammit, Cas. Dean would want me to protect you.”

“He’s hurting himself.”

“He’s gonna hurt you. He’s confused, and he doesn’t know where he is. And with the curse, he’ll try to–”

“I don’t care! If he does anything, you’ll be reversing the effects soon, anyway.”

Sam’s face twists. “Cas, I’m not sure how much this might be affecting you. He wasn’t transformed by the curse–you were.”

While they try to out-stubborn each other, Dean continues screaming. Finally, Sam lets him go, unable to listen to his brother’s cries of pain.

Cas wastes no time, walking up to the mattress and reaching for him slowly, easing himself closer. His fingers tap his hairline before sliding through his hair to stroke behind his ear. He keeps his touch soft and gentle.

Dean flinches at the contact, then whines, watery eyes pleading. He still doesn’t focus on him.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here,” Cas presses his lips to Dean’s forehead. “I’m going to take care of you.”

He pulls back. Dean refuses to meet his eyes. Cas wants him to look directly at him, to acknowledge his presence with his mind and not just his body. Dean is still straining against the bonds, erection hard in his jeans. He’s rocking his hips unconsciously, sensing that Cas is nearby.

“Dean. It’s me. Cas.” He takes a breath, “Sam’s here too. Come back to us.”

Mentioning Sam is a mistake. Dean’s eyes shutter and growl sounds, low in his throat.

Instead of backing away, which Sam clearly wants him to do, Cas rests his forehead against Dean’s, draping his body over him. It’s the closest he can get to a hug. Cas sighs, the warmth giving him a slight sense of relief.

“I’ll get the ingredients for the ritual,” Sam says, already running out the door.

Dean is crying, sobbing around his gag as the fever takes over. His temperature is spiking dangerously. Hoping to calm it, Cas removes his clothes. Skin on skin always made Dean feel better in the past. He slings his leg over his hips like how Dean used to sleep with him.

The rocking makes it difficult, and Cas finds that he has to straddle him completely, hands flying up to his shoulders so that he’s not thrown off. “No, no, please.” Cas scrambles to keep his balance while Dean tries to buck him off. The restraints start to creak in warning.

Cas’ hands fumble with Dean’s zipper, finally getting it and shoving his pants and boxers down enough. His erection springs up and Dean growls around the gag in his mouth.

The metal around Dean’s elbow pops off. Cas looks around, but Sam still isn’t back yet. He has to get Dean to calm down.

Sam’s about to change him back. There should be no consequences if they have sex now.

Cas leans forward to hover his face over Dean’s. His eyes are completely gold and his expression is filled with rage, but he stops straining his neck to try to break his head free. He’s not trying to headbutt Cas.

“Shh,” Cas coos, fingers encircling the erection below him. Dean looks wary, eyebrows pinching. Cas places a kiss on the gag, right where Dean’s lips are hidden. Then, he lines himself up and allows Dean to start sinking into him.

He has to pause after a moment and Dean freezes with him, eyes wide. Cas breathes through the stretch, almost comforted by the feeling. This is what he’s been missing.

Cas lets out a content sigh just as Dean makes a choked noise.

“It’s okay, I got you.”

Dean holds himself still, shuddering with effort, allowing Cas to adjust. His eyes are still frenzied.

After a moment, Cas starts to bounce. The up and down motion is strange, but Cas soon gets a rhythm that he enjoys and continues, ignoring the fatigue he’s carried with him all day. He must be doing something wrong because even after a few minutes, Dean is not getting any better.

His voice is beyond muffled, but Cas thinks he hears, “Harder.”

Cas arches, head facing the ceiling. His hands fall back, resting on Dean’s tense thighs. Almost frantic, he grinds down. Just as he’s pushing down again, Dean slams his hips up. Cas cries out.

Dean can plant his feet down now, chains having enough give, which gives him the leverage he was after. The angle allows him to thrust up without holding back.

He doesn’t realize Sam has returned until he hears the chanting. Cas spares him a glance, looking at the old tome he’s reading and the dried herbs lying on the desk. Sam doesn’t look at them.

Then, the restraint on his wrists pop and Dean’s hands come up to rip the one around his neck off.

Sam’s words cut off so he can yell, “No!” But the metal crumbles beneath Dean’s hands and he’s free before anyone can react.

Dean’s body surges up, hands coming towards Cas’s head. Cas closes his eyes as he feels himself be knocked backward.

He lands on the floor, hard. But his head avoids the landing, cradled by Dean’s fingers. Cas cracks his eyes open, staring up into Dean’s anguished face. They’re still connected at the hips.

Sam has frozen, unsure of what to do next. Dean’s fingers slide from the back of Cas’ head to around his neck. Cas breathes.

Then the fingers continue until they’re resting on the floor, just above Cas’ shoulders. Dean’s voice breaks the silence, rough from misuse. “Go ahead, Sammy.”

Then, he uses the leverage from his arms to thrust into Cas. He’s rough and fast, making Cas slide against the floor slightly. This is going to leave a mark.

After a moment, Cas hears the ritual continue. Dean ignores it, eyes locked on Cas underneath him.

The thrusts become so impactful that Cas lets out a small “mmph,” breath knocked out of him. Slow, hard, and deep.

But it feels so good. Like it’s what has been missing this entire time.

Cas reaches up, trying to kiss him, but Dean doesn’t allow it. He pulls back slightly and, without increasing the pace, he thrusts harder.

Instead, his hands land behind him, sliding down to feel the muscles work in Dean’s lower back. Then they slide lower to feel the taut muscles of his ass.

Dean leans forward, resting on his elbows. He buries his face near Cas’ neck, kissing below his ear as if in apology.

Cas wraps his arms around him, holding him close. His legs reach up to wrap around him as well, allowing Dean to push in deeper.

Sam’s voice has gotten firmer, Latin rolling off his tongue without pause. Cas listens for a second, trying to see how far into the ritual they are, when Dean mumbles into his ear.

“Mm sorry, Cas.”

Cas doesn’t have time to think before Dean’s hips snap once, twice, then freeze as he spills into him.

Cas tightens his arms and legs, holding on. He can’t be done now; Sam hasn’t finished the ritual yet. Cas tries to send him a panicked look, but he can’t see around Dean’s head.

Dean pulls out of him carefully, mouth still pressing, kissing near Cas’ ear. His heart thumps loudly.

“Dean, Dean,” Cas grips his shirt desperately. “Please, don’t. I- I...” Tears rush as he tries to think of what he can say to keep him from attacking Sam.

Dean leans down, pushing Cas back onto the floor softly. He drops to his knees next to Cas. “I know. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you like this.”

The first thought that comes to his mind is leave him like what?

Then Dean shuffles lower and places himself between Cas’ thighs. Almost delirious, Cas slumps. Then Dean’s head finds its rightful place.

As the licks begin, Cas turns his head to look at Sam. They didn’t have a lot of time left.

Sweat is dripping down Sam’s face as he continues to read.

“Sam, how much longer?”

In between phrases, Sam spits out, “Twenty minutes.”

Cas shakes his head, “We don’t have twenty- ah!” Two fingers have shoved themselves inside him and have immediately begun to make a scissoring motion. Sam looks up to see what’s happening, then he starts to read faster.

When Dean’s tongue swipes against his clit, Cas almost laughs in relief. He’s trying to make him come first.

Cas had never had to time how long it took Dean to get him off before. He’s also never tried to resist the pleasure coursing through him. He has no idea if he can last twenty minutes.

Still, he shuts his eyes and tries to disconnect himself. But trying not to feel it makes him focus on it more. Dean gives three rapid swipes of his tongue over his clit.

Abandoning that, Cas opens his eyes and looks over at Sam. He tries to focus on the book he’s holding, then on his darting eyes as he reads. It almost works. Then Dean’s fingers curl into a familiar territory inside him.

Cas’ hips jerk and he gasps. Dean is relentless, rubbing at his g-spot with the pads of his fingers and honing his tongue on his clit.

He’s not going to last.

Cas rocks against his tongue, helpless.

Dean laps at his swollen clit just enough for him to shudder, then he pulls away. Crawling up, Dean hovers over him. Looking down at him with green eyes, Dean smiles softly. “Sorry, I forgot.”

Then he’s kissing him.

Overwhelmed, a tear slides its way out of his eye, rolling down into his hair. Dean is caressing his side, mouth sealed onto his.

The first crack catches him off guard and he cries out, tearing his mouth away. His arms release Dean, his shoulders stiffening and beginning to readjust.

Dean looks panicked, pulling back so he’s not on top of him anymore. Cas cries out in agony as his body starts to shift.

Dean calls out his name. Then Sam’s there, kneeling beside the both of them. Calm, he murmurs explanations to Dean. Dean nods, then sits next to Cas, running his hands through his hair to comfort him.

Cas loses track of what’s happening after that.

When it’s over, Cas lies there, unable to move. His entire body aches, even his breaths come out shuddering from the pain. His eyes are closed, head off to the side. He feels like he might pass out.

Fingers card themselves through his now-short hair. It’s then that he realizes he can still hear Dean saying comforting words.

“It’s okay. It’s over, it won’t hurt anymore.”

Cas cracks open his eyes a little, tears leaking out. His vision is too blurred to see, but he still whimpers out a desperate, “Hurts.”

Dean leans closer, face over his. Gently, he says, “I know. You’re gonna get better now, okay? You’re back to normal.”

Dean presses a small, chaste kiss against his lips.

Cas breathes for a minute. When he next cracks open his eyes, he croaks out, “Are you tired of sex now?”

He smiles, fond. “Are you joking? That whole time I was holding back. I haven’t shown you what sex with me is really like.” Then, with a lopsided grin, he rubs a hand through his hair, sheepish. “I think I owe Sam about a million gift baskets. Or maybe just a new house. I’d bet he’d appreciate never hearing us again.”

Cas hums, a sense of relief taking over his body. Then he sleeps, pushing away the doubts for another day. The curse is gone. Dean is with him and hasn’t rejected him in this form, and that’s all that matters right now.