Born on Wings of Steel

By the time they drove back to the hotel, it was dark outside.  Castiel sat on the edge of the made bed, unsure why his stomach felt unsettled as he watched Dean move about the small room, getting ready for bed.  Perhaps the fried pickle he had eaten at Dean's insistence did not agree with him.  Still wearing his trenchcoat, Castiel sat with his hands folded in his lap while Dean, shirtless and wearing sweatpants that seemed in danger of falling off his hips, brushed his teeth in the bathroom.  Their eyes met in the mirror.  Dean spit in the sink and turned around.

"Are you really gonna sit there in your coat all night, Cas?" he asked.

Castiel glanced down at himself, then back at Dean.  "Yes."

"I got an extra pair of sweats and a T-shirt in the duffel."  Dean gestured with the toothbrush.

What he was wearing seemed irrelevant, but Castiel stood up and retrieved the mentioned items from the duffel bag and changed into them while Dean finished his toiletries.  Castiel turned his head and sniffed his shoulder; the clothes smelled like Dean.  Walking back into the room, Dean belly-flopped onto the bed, then reached up and grabbed the little pull chain on the lamp.

"Good night, Cas," Dean said.

"Good night, Dean."

Dean pulled the chain, and the lamp went dark.  The streetlight filtering in through the curtain was ample illumination for Castiel to still see Dean as he slid under the sheet and lay down on his side, double-checking the knife under his pillow before closing his eyes.  A few moments passed; Castiel heard a dog bark, and a car door shut in the parking lot as he watched Dean.

"Cas," Dean said without opening his eyes.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Lay down."

"But, I do not require-" Castiel started to protest.

"I know.  Just lay down."  Dean's eyes opened.  "You're creeping me out sitting there like that."

Silently, Castiel laid down on his back on top of the covers, and Dean's eyes closed before he rolled over onto his side facing away.  Castiel watched Dean's silhouette under the sheet and listened to the breathing slow and even out as he went to sleep.  It didn't take long for the breathing to become irregular as Dean fell into a nightmare.  Sitting up, Castiel went to the other side of Dean's bed and sat on the edge.  Reaching down, he touched his fingertips to Dean's forehead, and instantly he stilled, breath warm on the inside of Castiel's wrist.  He remembered the feel of Dean's breath on his face when they kissed, and the heated press of his lips.

Instead of lifting his fingers away, Castiel lightly cupped the side of Dean's face, brushing his thumb over the cheekbone as Dean had done to him.  Even in his sleep, Dean responded, turning into the touch like a flower to the sun.  Remembering what Dean had said about him sitting and watching him, Castiel laid down on his side, hand still cradling the cheek.  Wishing to feel Dean's breath on his face again, Castiel scooted closer, until their noses were almost touching.  The warm gusts of breath only made Castiel want more.  Carefully, he tilted his head to the side and lightly touched his lips to Dean's.

Dean's response was immediate and unexpected.  Without waking, he threw an arm and leg over Castiel, pulling their bodies flush together.

"Mm," Dean moaned.

Encouraged, Castiel licked Dean's lips, and he immediately opened his mouth, letting Castiel inside.  He felt Dean's hand slip under the back of his sweatpants and squeeze a buttock.  There was a resulting tingle in his groin, and Castiel felt himself grow erect.  Dean pushed his pelvis against his, revealing that he was in the same physical condition.

Suddenly, the groin grinding and buttock squeezing ceased, and Dean's head pulled back.

"Cas?" he asked sleepily.

"Yes," Castiel responded.

Immediately, the hand withdrew from his sweatpants as Dean moved away, lifting his arm and leg off him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean sat up on his elbows.

"Kissing," Castiel replied.

Dean rubbed the corners of his eyes with his thumb and middle finger.  "Cas, you can't mack on a guy in his sleep."

"I apologize," Castiel said, aware he had transgressed another human personal space boundary.

With a sigh, Dean sat up all the way, knees raised under the sheets.  "Cas, you're making this hard for me," he said.  "Literally."

Sitting up as well, Castiel looked into Dean's face, but he didn't seem angry.  Despite the many mistakes he made in regards to human etiquette, Dean rarely lost his temper with him.

"Fine."

Dean used the tone Castiel recognized as meaning he had made a decision.  Leaning over the side of the bed, Dean opened a drawer in the night stand and removed a white tube with blue lettering.

"Take off the sweats, Cas," Dean said, pushing back the sheets.

Castiel complied, dropping them to the floor.  Rising up onto his knees, Dean knelt between Castiel's legs.  Castiel was curious about the tube, but Dean dropped it onto the bed by his knee and grabbed the hem of Castiel’s T-shirt, pulling it up over his head and tossing it over the side of the bed.  Dean’s eyes dropped to the pendant, which Castiel had not removed since he taken custody of it.  Dean touched the brass pendant, tracing the leather cord up to Castiel’s neck, then cupping the side of his face.  Castiel saw a flash of green beneath thick lashes, then Dean's lips were pressed against his.  Castiel lifted his hands to touch Dean's shoulders, and unbraced, fell backward onto the bed with Dean on top of him.  At the last moment, Dean released him and caught himself on his elbows, body held inches over him, without breaking the kiss.  Mouths open now, Dean's tongue rolled slowly inside his mouth, and although he didn't need to eat, Castiel was beginning to understand the concept of hunger.  He wanted to consume and be devoured at the same time by Dean's demanding lips.

Then Dean lowered himself so their bodies were touching, and Castiel gasped into the other's mouth at the feel of their bare chests pressed together and the warmth of Dean's skin.  He could even feel the heat through Dean's sweats as his pelvis met Castiel's, the soft fabric rubbing against his bare genitals.  Kissing like this, with the solid weight of Dean's muscular body pushing him into the bed, was completely different than before.  Castiel found himself unable to catch his breath, and he started to feel lightheaded.

Dean's tongue withdrew, and he nuzzled at Castiel's neck, the rough of beard shadow lightly abrasing the sensitive skin, instantly resulting in goosebumps.  Without even thinking, Castiel turned his head to bare his neck in surrender, and was rewarded with more kisses and light bites, then warm breath was in his ear.

"You okay, Cas?" Dean whispered, his voice low and husky.

"Yes."   Castiel shivered.

"Your heart is beating like a jackhammer," Dean murmured.

Frowning, Castiel realized Dean was right.  He could feel his heart beating hard and fast beneath Dean's steady rhythm.

"It's okay," Dean said.  "We're not gonna fuck.  Just a hand-job, okay?"

"Okay," Castiel said, even though he had no idea what a hand-job was.

Dean kissed the side of his neck, then his collarbone, and he started sliding down Castiel's body, causing all sorts of interesting sensations at the light friction on certain parts.  Dean sat up on his knees, and suddenly Castiel felt cooler and lighter at the sudden loss of Dean's body on top of him.  Needing to re-establish some kind of physical contact, he reached down and touched Dean's knee with his fingertips.  

Dean had retrieved the tube and was squirting a glistening gel into his right palm.

"Here, bend your knee," Dean said, patting Castiel's right thigh.

Castiel bent his knee and Dean gripped his thigh, lifting Castiel's leg so his calf rested on Dean's left shoulder.  The position should have been absurd, but Castiel was instantly more at ease at the increased physical contact.  Dean lightly ran his fingers over Castiel's thigh as he breathed into the gelled palm.  Castiel was finding the light caresses and the feel of Dean's rough cheek pressed against the inside of his knee quite pleasant and relaxing.

Then Dean reached down and grasped Castiel's erect penis in his right hand.  Castiel gasped.  He had no idea how incredibly sensitive this particular body part, this small piece of flesh, could be.  Holding him firmly, Dean began stroking up with a slight twist of his wrist, then down again, creating a wonderful, slick friction that sent all the blood in Castiel's body to his groin.

Fisting his hands in the sheets, Castiel instinctively started rocking his hips to the rhythm of Dean's hand.

"That's it," Dean murmured.  "You're a natural."

Dean altered the strokes, slowing down and squeezing more firmly, rubbing his thumb under the rim, then swirling it over the top.  Patting Castiel's raised leg, Dean lowered his left hand out of sight.  Castiel felt his testicles gently cupped, then rolled and lightly squeezed.  The sensation was exquisite.

"This is gonna feel a little weird, Cas," he said.  "But it's good."

Castiel nodded, unable to articulate words.  He felt something wet touch his anus, and the rocking of his hips faltered when Dean slipped a gelled finger inside him.

"It's okay," Dean soothed, kissing his knee.

It did feel, as Dean had said, weird, but not entirely unpleasant.  Dean's finger slid along the inside of the tight walls, moving in and out in time with the stroking, and Castiel's eyes closed as he enjoyed the sensation.  Suddenly, a molten tingling spiked out from where Dean was touching him.

"Ah!"  Castiel half-rose up onto his elbows.

"There it is," Dean sounded satisfied.

"What is it?" Castiel's eyes were wide.

"This?" Dean smirked.

"Ah!"  Castiel's toes clenched at another throbbing pulse of pleasure.

"Your prostate."  Dean grinned.  "Pretty great, huh?"

Dean massaged the prostate with his finger and started fisting Castiel's penis harder and faster.  Castiel felt the blood throbbing in his groin almost as if it had a separate heartbeat, and a tightening; it seemed like something was about to happen.

"Just let go, Cas," Dean said.

Through the haze of pleasure, Castiel managed to focus on Dean's face, then every nerve ending in his body exploded in bliss.

 

"Earth to Cas."

Castiel opened his eyes and blinked Dean's face into focus.  Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed braced on one arm, leaning over him.  Castiel's confusion must have been evident, because Dean gave him a lopsided smile.

"I've had a few fainters during sex," he said.  "But you're the first one to pass out during a handyman special."

"Is that what you do when you have sex with male partners?" Castiel asked.

"Sometimes.  Although, the first time I was fingered, it was by a chick giving me a blow job."  Dean chuckled.  "I came so fast, I didn't have time to warn her.  She was pissed."

"Warn her about what?" Castiel asked.

"That."  Dean pointed to Castiel's stomach.

He raised his head, and saw glistening lines striping his abdomen.

"Not everyone drinks protein shakes."  Dean started to stand up.  "Let me get a towel."

Castiel grabbed Dean's thigh to stop him from leaving.  Using a small amount of energy, he pulled a towel from the bathroom, which appeared in his other hand.  Dean blinked, then cautiously took the towel.

"That's handy," he said.

Sitting up on his elbows, Castiel watched as Dean cleaned off his hands, then briskly wiped the semen off Castiel's midsection.  With more gentleness, he cleaned the gel off Castiel's now spent member and genital area.  He started to stand up again, but Castiel still had a firm grip.

"Uh, gonna let go, Cas?"  One eyebrow went up.

"I don't think so," Castiel answered honestly.

The other eyebrow rose.  "Cas, I need to go to the bathroom to, uh, take care of business."

Sitting up all the way, Castiel gripped Dean's shoulders.

"Let me take care of business," he said.

Dean sighed.  "Cas-"

Using his grip on Dean's shoulders, Castiel pulled him onto his back on the bed, simultaneously twisting himself around so he was straddling Dean's waist.  Dean's green eyes were wide in surprise.  Apparently Dean hadn't read about one of his brothers wrestling Jacob and breaking the mortal's hip.

"Let me take care of you," Castiel insisted.

Dean hesitated, watching him for a minute, then he shrugged, relaxing back into the bed.

"Fine," he said.  "Have at it."

Knowing Dean would never rescind his word once given, Castiel unstraddled him and slipped his fingers under the waistband of the worn sweatpants.  As he tugged them down, Dean lifted his slim hips and pulled his feet out to help him.  Castiel dropped the sweatpants on top of the other pair on the floor.

When Castiel turned back around, he froze at the sight that greeted him.  Dean lay with one arm thrown above his head, right leg bent, seemingly completely unselfconscious about the fully erect penis resting on his flat abdomen.  The muscular, V-shaped torso and pose reminded Castiel of a virile version of one of the painted figures from the Sistine Chapel.

"What?" Dean raised an eyebrow at him.

"I just noticed," Castiel said, sitting on his knees beside Dean's narrow waist.  "That you are beautiful."

Dean stared at him, then laughed.

"You don't have to sweet-talk me."  Dean gestured down at his nude form stretched out on the bed.  "I'm a sure thing here, Cas."

"I'm not talking sweet, I'm talking truthfully," Castiel said.

Dean's lips pursed and his eyes narrowed like they did when he wanted to believe, but couldn't quite bring himself to do so.  It made Castiel wonder, out of all the lovers Dean had shared this body with, had none thought to tell him he was magnificent?   Reaching down, Castiel touched Dean's face, fingertips grazing along the stubbled jaw line, tracing the tendons that protruded when Dean tensed his neck, but he didn't turn away.  Castiel continued to the clavicle, sliding across the horizontal lines, hand flattening as he moved over the pectorals, thumb moving over the tattoo.  To his surprise, he could feel the nipples harden beneath his palm.  He moved over the ribs, sensing the sleeping power of the Enochian Sigils he had carved into the bones under the thin layer of skin.  His hand moved over the flat stomach, ridged abdomen, following the curve of the pelvis to the inside of the straight leg.

Resting his hand on the inside of the thigh, Castiel bent down and kissed Dean lightly on the lips.  He liked the way Dean tasted.  He also liked the way Dean smelled.  Like right now, he smelled like shampoo, soap, the lingering vestiges of after-shave, and there was also a smell that was uniquely Dean.  Castiel's mouth followed the path of his hands.  He brushed his lips over the jaw line, the neck, pausing over the pulse at the base of the throat.  It was beating fast, and he felt a little thrill that he was the cause of it.  

He moved down the length of Dean's body, trailing kisses, stopping at the navel.  Such an innocuous divot, yet symbolic of one of the main differences between himself and Dean.  Dean grew inside another human being, whereas Castiel was created directly by his father.  Perhaps this was one of the reasons human beings craved the intimacy of physical contact, a lingering sensory memory of their origin, whereas angels were created alone out of a void.

Impulsively, Castiel dipped his tongue into Dean's navel, and the stomach muscles jumped a little.

"Tickles," Dean murmured.

Castiel moved his head and the tip of Dean's erect penis bumped his cheek.  Dean made a soft sound that Castiel had never heard him make before.  He tilted his head to look up the length of Dean's body.  Dean was watching him, eyes half-closed, mouth slightly open.  Castiel wondered if he could make another one of those sounds come out of him.  

Resting his cheek on Dean's abdomen, Castiel slid his hand deeper between Dean's legs to cup his balls.  Dean's legs fell open a little wider in invitation.  Remembering how highly sensitive that area had been on himself, Castiel was very gentle.  Dean's eyes fluttered and his breathing sped up, but he remained silent.  Releasing the balls, Castiel's thumb traced up the vein along the shaft.  The skin there was so soft, like satin, and hot.  He rubbed his thumb and forefinger under the head, pushing up against the spongier flesh, and this time Dean made a sound like a smothered groan.  Castiel brushed his thumb over the smooth cap, and felt wetness there.

With the hand resting on the bed, Dean pushed the tube of gel towards him.  Sitting up, Castiel took the gel.  Popping the lid, he squeezed some into his palm.  He played with the gooey substance, briefly intrigued by the odd viscosity of it, before returning his hand to Dean's waiting member.

He gently grasped it, covering the shaft with a slow, twisting up and down motion.  Then, he stroked lightly, enjoying the sensation of the slickness, the movement of the soft skin covering the hardness, the gel squishing between his fingers.

"You can squeeze a little harder, Cas," Dean said softly.  "It won't break off."

Castiel tightened his grip and stroked a little harder.  Dean's hips started rocking in time with his hand.

"That's good," Dean encouraged him.

Castiel tried to remember everything Dean had done:  the twist at the top of the up-stroke; cupping and rolling the balls in his other hand; brushing his thumb over the head.  Dean was fairly quiet, but whenever Castiel rubbed his thumb over the head, Dean would moan in the back of of his throat, and drops of glistening liquid would come out like dew on a mushroom.  Curious, Castiel leaned down and licked at one of the drops.

"Cas!"  Dean gasped, hips bucking upward.

Castiel glanced up at Dean's flushed face.  Licking the tip obviously induced a pleasurable result.  He had also liked the taste; salty, and like Dean.  Castiel decided to lap up the rest of the drops.  He felt Dean's hand rest on top of his head, fingers burrowing to touch the scalp.  It felt good.  When he had licked the head clean, Castiel closed his mouth over it, sucking while his hands continued stroking the shaft and fondling the balls, which had grown heavier.

The wonderful sounds Dean was making advised him he was proceeding correctly. Then Dean's fingers tightened in his hair and tugged.

"I'm close, Cas," Dean's voice was hoarse.

Castiel continued with what he was doing, and Dean tugged a little harder.

"I'm gonna come," he said.  "You don't want to swallow your first time."

Reluctantly, Castiel allowed Dean to pull him away, continuing to stroke the shaft.  Almost immediately, Dean came.  Castiel felt the penis pulse in his hand, and watched as milky fluid squirted out across Dean's spasming stomach muscles.  When it stopped, Dean reached down and touched Castiel's hand, and he ceased pumping, releasing the softened penis.

Remembering what Dean had done for him, Castiel leaned over the bed and retrieved the towel, cleaning off his hands and Dean's stomach, and very gingerly, his penis and inside of his thigh.  Dropping the towel on the floor, Castiel glanced over at the other empty twin bed and hesitated.  He was uncertain whether Dean would wish him to stay or return.  The question was answered when Dean sat up and reached for the sheet crumpled at the foot of the bed.

"Give me a hand," he said.

Castiel shifted off the sheet, moving back to sit next to Dean, straightening out the bed linens on his side .  With a flick of his wrists, Dean flared the sheet out to cover both of them.  The cool fabric felt good settling on Castiel's warm skin when he laid down.  

Dean smiled at him, and it was genuine, not like the facsimiles he seemed to use so often.

"Are you sure you haven't done this before?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded.  "I am certain."

"You're one hell of a fast learner," Dean chuckled.

Dean checked the knife under his pillow before rolling onto his side, facing away from Castiel.  He peered back over his shoulder.

"Don't do anything perverted to me while I'm asleep, Cas," he cautioned.

"Of course not, Dean," Castiel replied.

Apparently satisfied, Dean patted Castiel's hip then rolled back to his side.  Castiel frowned, thinking about Dean's habit of sleeping with a weapon.  As a warrior, as a solider, he knew what it was to live in a state of alert, to be ready for a fight.  But, he had always had the sanctuary of Heaven.  Since his Fall, he had discovered how wearying it was to constantly be on the alert for enemies, to be without a safe harbor.  Dean had lived in that fashion his entire life, existing constantly in a state of battle-readiness.

Castiel folded his hands on his stomach and watched Dean's back.  He seemed more relaxed than usual, falling asleep quickly.  This time his slumbers were uninterrupted by nightmares.

 

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Note: Song lyrics are from "Icarus" and "Wheels" by Kansas.