19. Touching

Castiel brushes his teeth as quickly as he can, scrubbing his tongue and rinsing at Dean’s prompting. It has been days since he last got to touch and taste Dean and he doesn’t want to waste another moment. Neither of them know how long they have before someone comes to interrupt, or before Lilith shows up again. They have no idea what she’s planning with letting Dean come back and Castiel wants to take full advantage of their brief time alone.

Dean, however, doesn’t seem to have the same idea – much to Castiel’s ire. After taking away the toothbrush and the bucket that Castiel spat into, Dean gets a different bucket – the one always used to hold water – and fills it in small-sea. Castiel glowers at him from the bed, shifting to sit on the curl of his tail with his hands hidden in the sleeves of the shirt he still wears. His fingers flex within them.

He wants to kiss Dean, to taste his tongue and skin. He wants to test the give of Dean’s skin under his newly blunt nails and wrap him in his tail, to press him to the bed and renew the marks he placed on him days ago. The one on his throat is already starting to fade and Castiel needs to fix that. He doesn’t want to waste what little time they have with the dampening of his scales and fans.

“Don’t look at me like that, Cas.” Dean smiles as he sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing the bucket at his feet. The cup is floating in it already. “I bet it’s been hours since you soaked up last and as much as I want to, I can’t do anything with you knowing that you’re going to be uncomfortable.”

Dean keeps saying words Castiel doesn’t know and it’s frustrating. He’s itching to stretch out his touch with both body and mind. He wants to feel Dean’s heat under his hand and have his emotions in his head. It’s infuriating not to have either when he can certainly have at least one right now.

“Dean.” Castiel says his name firmly, reaching for his arm.

He catches Castiel’s hand, still covered in the sleeve, and looks down at it. A small smile lifts the corner of his mouth and Castiel makes a pleased noise as Dean tugs him closer. His eyes slide closed when Dean’s other hand settles over his gills and guides him in for the first kiss he’s had in days. It’s wonderful in that he gets to kiss Dean again.  It’s disappointing in that Dean keeps it as nothing more than a gentle press of their lips.

Castiel whines when Dean draws away. He uncurls and slides closer, scales slipping over the sheets as he presses against Dean’s side. With a hand on the back of his neck, he forcefully pulls Dean back into another kiss. Dean’s soft laugh changes into an exhalation of surprise when Castiel catches his bottom lip between his teeth as gently as he can. He lets it go with a light drag over the sensitive skin and Castiel almost grins in triumph as Dean’s hold on his hand grows tight.

“Shit, you learn fast.” Dean murmurs against his lips and then there are no more words.

He opens willingly under the insistent push of Dean’s tongue and he twines his arms around his shoulders. Castiel folds back against the bed when Dean presses against him. His hands are warm on Castiel’s stomach and hips as they push up the bottom of the shirt. He arches into the touch with a pleased purr, pushing into Dean’s palms as his tail makes arcs across the bedding.

Dean leans over him, hands sliding up his sides and around to his back. He moves from Castiel’s mouth and over the stubbled lines of his jaw. For a moment, as heat courses under his skin in pulsing waves to curl hot in his belly, Castiel thinks that the fever has returned. He forgets about it completely when Dean’s lips find the mark he left over his pulse and he flattens his tongue against it.

The collar around Castiel’s neck makes a quiet clinking noise when he arches again, tilting his head back. Dean drags his nails along Castiel’s sides, scraping lightly over his glow-lines. It sends shivers rippling through Castiel’s bones and he digs his fingers between Dean’s shoulders. Dean grins against his neck and does it again. Castiel bites his lip to stifle a groan. He pouts at Dean when he pushes up to sit over Castiel’s hips. Dean carefully arranges Castiel’s adipose fins so they aren’t pinned uncomfortably by his knees.

“Up, Cas.” Dean tugs at his arms and he leans in to kiss Castiel the moment he sits up.

Dean’s hands find his sides under the shirt again, but this time they slide around to press gently against the bottom most spines of his back-fans. The hard edge of the blue-white cast presses in wherever his left hand moves, but Castiel doesn’t mind. Dean is careful with making sure that the shirt doesn’t catch as he works it up Castiel’s back. Slowly, Dean pulls Castiel’s arms through the sleeves until the shirt is resting only on his shoulders. Carefully, he holds the collar open while working it over Castiel’s head and his side-fans.

Castiel shivers at the cool air of the room and then Dean’s hands are back on him and smoothing down his shoulders, his arms and over his chest. He leans into the touch and sinks his fingers into the short hairs at the back of Dean’s head as he pulls him back into a kiss. Dean sucks lightly at his bottom lip and tongue and Castiel groans. But then Dean is leaning away and Castiel growls, tightening his hold to try and keep him in place.

“Wait, Cas. Just a minute.” Dean takes his wrists and pulls his hands away. “I just gotta do something.”

He glares as Dean slides from the bed and quickly goes to the door. Castiel didn’t hear the door beep and there was no knocking. He doesn’t understand what Dean could possibly have to do at the door until Dean slides the lock into place. As he comes back to the bed, Castiel decides that Dean is wearing too much clothing.

He points at Dean’s shirts. “No.”

Dean hesitates only a moment before he pulls off his shirts and leaves them in a pile on the floor. He kicks off his boots and socks too and then spreads his arms, eyebrows raised as if seeking approval.  Castiel regards him thoughtfully before pointing at his pants too. He wants all the heat of Dean that he can get and the jeans will only keep that from him.

The jeans get added to the pile of clothing. Dean is left in only his undershorts as he leans over and pulls Castiel’s tail around until it hangs over the edge of the bed.

“Dean?” Castiel tilts his head and watches curiously as Dean drops to his knees before him.

“You’re too dry, Cas.” Dean pulls the bucket closer with one hand, the other tracing over his tail and arranging it so that the end is curled in his lap and his legs are covered by the round adipose of Castiel’s end-fans. “If we’re doing anything, you’re going to be soaked up first.”

Castiel wants to object, but the first splash of water over the scales at the end of his tail feels amazing. Dean works the water into the webbing of his end-fans before scooping more water in the cup and pouring it higher up. He leans forward and presses a kiss to the bend of Castiel’s tail where it curves over the edge of the bed. Castiel sucks in a sharp breath and digs his fingers into the sheets as Dean covers his tail in soft kisses and water, his tongue tracing the spotted design of his glow pattern.

The higher he moves, the faster Castiel’s breath comes. His knuckles are turning white where he’s holding the bed. Dean is getting closer and closer to Castiel’s sheath and the heat pooling in his stomach is boiling under his skin and the muscles of his sheath could start twitching and contracting at any moment. And he’s not sure if that’s something he’s ready for, even though he wants Dean – mother-sea, he wants Dean in any way Dean will let him have him – he’s just not sure if he could take Dean’s touch on that part of him now knowing that if he ever gets his freedom he’ll never have that touch again.

But Dean moves to the side, following a swirl of colour to the adipose fin along the side of his tail. He traces the seam of fin and scale to Castiel’s hip. The bucket is half empty and he has to pull away every time he needs to fill the cup with water. Castiel lets go of the sheets and leans back on his hands to bare his stomach and chest to Dean’s lips.

Dean grins up at him before dragging his tongue down the center of Castiel’s stomach – paying special attention to the flat plane above the fusion of skin and scale. Castiel stifles a laugh. The touch is a little ticklish and he thinks Dean may be fascinated by the space where Castiel has no bellybutton.

Once he’s finished with his tail, Dean moves to sit on the edge of the bed with one leg folded under him. Castiel turns to face him and Dean allows only one teasing kiss before he pushes at his shoulder to make him turn and present his back to him. Castiel pouts, pulling his tail up to curl under him. He flexes his back-fans, flicking them at Dean, and smirks over his shoulder when Dean gives a startled grunt. Serves him right for keeping his kisses from him.

Castiel leans into Dean’s hands when they start to work the water into his back-fans. He’s surprised by the press of lips at the back of his neck and a startled noise escapes him when teeth scrape over his skin. It’s getting hard to think again, but it’s nothing like the fever fog. He licks his lips and all Castiel tastes is the mint of the toothpaste and Dean.

When Dean’s mouth closes over the end of one of his top-spines, Castiel can’t stop the quiet moan that sounds low in his throat. He arches his back into the touch of Dean’s fingers and he tries to hold his back-fans as still as possible while Dean licks at the spines and sucks experimentally at the webbing. No one has ever touched his back-fans like this and Castiel had no idea they could feel like this.

Dean presses his back-fans down and Castiel’s side-fans flare in surprise as Dean lifts him into his lap. Castiel despises not being able to touch Dean properly while he’s facing away, but Dean won’t let him turn as he touches lightly at Castiel’s chin to tilt his head to the side. Warm lips and a wet tongue press over his gills and along the bottom of his side-fan and Castiel suppresses shivers at the gentle press of teeth to the soft skin just below.

Water drips over his neck and shoulders as Dean wets his side-fans. Castiel purrs when he gently rubs the webbing between the spines and he turns his face into Dean’s fingers when they trace the lines of scales along his cheekbone.

Dean smiles against the side of his neck. “You’re gorgeous, y’know that? I thought it from the first moment I saw you, but I never thought I’d get to have you like this.”

Castiel doesn’t know what he’s saying, but he hums anyway. He likes the sound of Dean’s voice and he wants to listen to it more. Dean slides his hands down Castiel’s neck, pausing briefly at the collar. He can feel how Dean’s body tenses as he traces the braided blue rope before dropping his hands to press warm palms to Castiel’s chest.

“The first time you made your mind-meld link with me, I was scared shitless. And now I actually fuckin’ miss it. I want you in my head again. I want to know how okay you are with what I’m doing.” Dean keeps talking as his fingers slide over Castiel’s skin. He’s carefully avoiding his nipples and it’s frustrating because Castiel wants him to touch there. “It’s weird that it’s been, like, two weeks and I’m already really gonna hate when we have to say goodbye.” His voice drops into a whisper. “I don’t want to.”

Dean’s voice has gotten softer, more sulking. Castiel doesn’t like him sounding like that. He wants Dean to be happy and smiling. And he really wants Dean to make those noises he did when Castiel was making Pamela’s marks his own. The urge to have Dean make those sounds again starts itching under his skin and Castiel wants to hear them and to taste Dean’s skin, more than he wants Dean’s touch.

Castiel turns sharply, dislodging Dean’s arms from around him. Dean looks at him curiously as he turns around and Castiel catches the dregs of sadness on his face. He hates that Dean was looking like that, that Dean could ever have that expression. He slides out from the space between Dean’s folded leg and folds his tail under him, sitting on the bend of it. Castiel pulls at Dean’s folded leg.

“Move.” Castiel points toward the middle of the bed. “Dean, move please.”

The arch of one eyebrow is his only response before Dean shuffles over, sliding to sit where Castiel indicated. He appraises the position and then shakes his head. It’s not good enough. Castiel wants like they were before Lilith came back.

He reaches out and pushes at Dean’s shoulders. “Please.”

The other eyebrow raises too and Dean grins. “If you wanted me on my back, Cas, you should’ve just said so.” He flops back on the bed and tucks his hands behind his head.

Dean stretches out across the sheets in a luxurious roll of muscle and skin and Castiel’s adipose-fins ripple in surprise as his mouth goes dry. He licks his lips and ignores the knowing grin on Dean’s face as he adverts his eyes in a glance down Dean’s body to his feet. Castiel doesn’t know where to start. He wants to taste all of Dean and there are so many places he hasn’t touched yet. There are so many parts of Dean that are foreign to him and they’re all intriguing. Castiel wants to see them all.

He starts with his feet. Dean makes a curious noise when Castiel turns away and pulls himself down the bed. Castiel lifts one of Dean’s legs and situates himself between them, resting his foot in his lap. He looks up when Dean props himself up on his elbows to watch. His fingers drag curiously over and between Dean’s toes and Castiel closely watches how they bend and spread. Dean laughs when Castiel’s touch moves over the bottom of his foot and his whole leg jerks.

“Dude, don’t. That tickles.”

Castiel looks at him again, head tilted, as he runs one finger down the length of Dean’s foot in a lazy swirling pattern. He holds Dean’s leg in place with a firm hand on his ankle as Dean laughs more, squirming and trying to pull his leg free. Castiel’s fins ripple with his pleasure. Dean is ticklish and it’s an easy way to make him laugh. He especially likes Dean’s laughter and he does it again and again until Dean is twisted onto his side and he’s hugging his stomach.

Dean pushes at his shoulder with his other foot until Castiel finally lets go. He collapses with a laughing sigh and it takes several moments of deep breaths before Dean manages to open his eyes. Castiel grins at him and he shuffles his back-fans and the webbing between them, pleased with himself for making Dean laugh.

“With great power comes great responsibility. Use your knowledge wisely, Cas, coz’ the moment I find your ticklish spots, I’m going to make you pay for that.” Dean nudges at him with his foot once more before he rolls onto his back again. “God, I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”

Castiel lifts his leg again and Dean looks down at him sharply. This time, Castiel makes Dean’s foot move. He gently guides it to bend back and forth, checking all the different ways that it can move. Dean watches him closely as Castiel runs one hand up the underside of his calf, squeezing lightly to feel the muscles beneath the skin. He notes that humans have hair on their legs too.

When Castiel dips his head to press his lips to the top of his foot, Dean takes in a sharp breath. “You shouldn’t –”

His words are ignored as Castiel kisses his biggest toe, and then the next. When his tongue dips between them, Dean makes a startled noise and his whole leg tenses. But he doesn’t try to pull it away like he did when Castiel was tickling him. Dean’s feet smell different from his neck and his chest where Castiel usually breathes his scent. It’s a sharper smell, but he doesn’t mind it.

When he looks up at Dean again, his face is flushed and he’s watching Castiel closely. His fingers curl into the sheets when Castiel closes his lips around his big toe and a shiver shakes through Dean when he sucks lightly. He leaves Dean’s toes to kiss and lick at the hard protrusions at his ankle before moving up his leg. Castiel tastes the crease behind his knee and grazes his teeth lightly over the top of it before he places that leg back on the bed and turns to the other.

Dean makes a similar noise of surprise when Castiel starts the process over again, minus the tickling. And when Castiel looks up at him again, Dean is laying back on the bed with both his arms folded over his face.

Castiel reaches his knee again and stops. “Dean?”

Worry knots itself behind his sternum. Did he do something wrong? Was this something Dean didn’t like? Why didn’t he stop him then?

Dean’s arms part. The flush of his cheeks has spread to his neck and there’s heat behind his eyes when he looks down at him. “It’s okay, Cas. That was just… No one’s ever done that before. It was weird, but a good weird. It’s okay, really.”

Castiel lets out a soft sigh, a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, and nods. “Okay.”

He bends forward to press a kiss to the inside of Dean’s thigh. Castiel barely brushes the skin before Dean is sitting up and his hands are blocking him from continuing. He sits back, confused, when Dean tells him to stop.

“This would be easier if you were in my head, Cas. Then you’d understand me when I say that you’re getting into territory I don’t know if you’re ready for or not.” Dean shifts and it’s because he doesn’t look uncomfortable that Castiel is confused. “God knows I’m all for it, but if you don’t know human implications about what you’re doing – It’s just –” He sighs, looking frustrated. “I don’t want you to do anything that you’re not actually sure is what you’re doing.”

When Castiel tilts his head, brow furrowed in confusion, Dean sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Fuck, you don’t even understand what I’m saying. Hell, I’m not even sure of what I’m saying.”

Frustration starts eating away at the heat pulsing under Castiel’s skin. He wants to be able to talk to Dean. As much as he likes hearing his voice, it’s annoying to not know what the words he is speaking actually mean. Castiel wants the kin-connection with Dean. He’s craving it almost as badly as he longs for the sea and his family. He could make it now, easily. But what if Lilith has found some way to know when he does?

He won’t know unless he tries. And, mother-sea help him, he wants Dean’s mind again. Castiel wants his foreign thoughts and his strange words. He wants Dean’s emotions and the vivid images he shares. He wants it all. Lilith will always have new reasons to hurt him and he can’t let her take Dean from him. Not like this. She’s taken Dean from him bodily for days now, but she can’t take his mind.

And Castiel is certain that she has no way of knowing when the kin-connection is made when she isn’t present. Dean had given it away before, but this time she isn’t here to see the change in his demeanor.

Castiel bites at his bottom lip and immediately Dean presses at his lips with his thumb. “Don’t do that, Cas. You’ll wreck your lips with those teeth of yours.”

He doesn’t understand that either and Castiel’s patience with their more than stilted communication reaches its limit. Castiel braces himself for the pain, or for Lilith’s rage – should she somehow make her presence known now – and reaches for Dean’s mind. The moment he touches his thoughts, Dean stiffens and his eyes go wide. The relief that floods the link far outweighs the surprise and it’s only moments before Dean sags forward and kisses Castiel roughly.

(Fuck, I missed this.)

A purr rumbles loudly, high in Castiel’s chest, and he leans into the hands cupping his face. He lets his ebbing frustration filter into the kin-connection, even as it gives way to satisfaction at defying Lilith’s orders and getting away with it. (Me too. But you should still speak with your throat-voice as if we aren’t talking. Just in case.) A very small amount of his desire to hear Dean’s voice slips into the link.

(Good plan.) Dean grins into the kiss and he slides his touch down one of Castiel’s arms to take his hand. This time, when he speaks between their kisses, the words are in his head too and it’s a relief to have their translation. “Humans are more careful about here –” He guides Castiel’s hand to his inner thigh where he had placed that brief kiss. “– for a whole bunch of reasons. First and foremost though, is because of how close it is to here.”

Castiel sucks in a sharp breath against Dean’s mouth when he gently moves Castiel’s hand to the front of his underpants. He recognizes the hardness pressing into his palm as Dean’s erection. Castiel was aware that Dean was feeling pleasure, but he didn’t know to what extent Dean’s arousal had gone. It suddenly feels like there’s no air left in his lungs, and yet his chest feels too full. His fans spread in surprise and his adipose fins ripple wildly before he breaks their kiss to look down.

The kin-connection vibrates with Dean’s emotions. His thoughts are nervous and lined with a quiet concern as he probes the sudden silence in Castiel’s mind. He immediately lets go and it is only Castiel who is keeping his hand in place.

(Cas?) Dean’s nervousness is giving way to worry the longer Castiel does nothing. (I didn’t know if you were ready or not and I just took a leap coz’ you were doing all that stuff with my legs and I’m sorry. We don’t have to do anything like this if you don’t want to. We can keep to just kissing, or we don’t have to do anything at all, we can just lay here and tal–)

Dean’s thoughts cut out when Castiel flexes his fingers. He stifles a soft ‘Oh!’ and his hips give an aborted twitch. Something like a battle-calm is settling in Castiel’s bones even though his thoughts keep wanting to race ahead and dredge up every insecurity he has about the future. He wants Dean, but he’s terrified of never getting to have him again.

For the first time in several days, a voice that sounds a lot like one of his nest-siblings rises in the back of his mind. It sounds like Anna and he thinks that it might be something she told him once a very long time ago. It reminds him about love and loss and regret. It reminds him to never leave anything unspoken or undone when you might never get the chance to say it or do it again. And then a voice like Gabriel’s, and another like Balthazar’s chimes in, telling him to live in the moment because the future has yet to come.

Castiel is always so cautious, so careful. He’s kept himself closed off and protected for so long because it’s what he was taught to do. Warriors shouldn’t let their emotions control them. They should be hard and strong and composed. Michael and Lucifer had taught him well that it’s alright to mate, to father a nest or find a bond-mate, but you should still always be on guard like a good soldier always is. And yet he still let Dean in. Dean found his way past all of Castiel’s defenses without him realizing it and now… Now Castiel doesn’t want to deny himself anymore. He doesn’t want to deny the desire crawling under his scales or the heat still singing through his veins.

Dean gives another quiet startled noise when Castiel turns his hand and gently, curiously, feels out the length hidden under the last piece of clothing he wears. His scent is changing. It’s getting deeper, darker and when Castiel presses his nose to the space below Dean’s ear, it’s strong enough to wipe out any indecision left in him.

“Are you sure?” Dean’s voice is barely a whisper and it ghosts over his side-fan, the soft wash of air making it twitch.

“Yes.” Castiel mumbles against Dean’s skin as he presses a kiss to the curve where neck meets shoulder. (Show me what to do.)

Dean groans and his hips move again, pressing his erection more firmly into Castiel’s hand. (I want to – can I – is it okay to touch you too?)

Castiel sits back, withdrawing his hand for the moment. It hadn’t occurred to him yet that Dean would want to touch him too. All of his thoughts had been focused on getting to touch and taste Dean. When he can see Dean’s face again, he’s surprised by the open, earnest expression he wears. Dean’s excitement and anticipation are warring in the kin-connection with his nervousness that Castiel might say ‘no’.

He’s been fighting with his arousal since –since when Dean pressed him back into the bed? Before? After? He’s not even sure. It’s been hard to stave off the lava that sears his belly and makes the muscles of his sheath want to contract. Castiel is already getting hard in his sheath just thinking about what Dean’s fingers would feel like on the place he’s never even truly touched himself.

The longer Castiel doesn’t respond the more anxious Dean gets and he starts to fidget, his fingers pulling at the edges of his underpants where they wrap around his thighs. (If you’re not ready for that, I totally understand. I don’t have to – I can wait, Cas. Seriously. Forget I asked.)

(No.)

He can feel the walls going up around Dean’s mind to keep him from feeling the flood of disappointment. Castiel frowns and shakes his head as he twists his tail forward until he’s sitting between the fold of Dean’s legs, his tail draped over one. He hooks it back under, wrapping around the leg. There is plenty of room left between them so that he can freely touch Dean, but not so far that he can’t lean forward and kiss him easily.

Castiel takes Dean’s right hand and he only hesitates slightly before placing it over his sheath. (I didn’t mean ‘no, you can’t’. I meant ‘no, I won’t forget you asked’.)

The walls around Dean’s mind fall before they’re even finished being built. His awe and delight wash brightly through the kin-connection as he presses the heel of his palm from the base of the sheath to the top, Castiel’s hand still resting over his. The grin he gives Castiel is full of teeth and it forms crinkles at the edges of his eyes. Something hot and cold shakes down Castiel’s spine and it leaves him breathless.

Dean leans in and Castiel meets him for a kiss that is far softer than he expected it to be. He repeats the motion with his hand and Castiel’s adipose fins ripple where they aren’t pressed to the bed or trapped in place by Dean’s leg. The hot press of Dean’s hand against just his sheath is maddening and he lets his control slip even more.

“You can tell me to–” Dean speaks whenever he pulls back to catch a breath before pressing in for another kiss. “–stop at any time.” Every breath is nothing more than a few quick gasps. “If you start to feel uncomfortable.”

(I won’t.) Castiel assures him, placing his free hand over Dean’s erection again. (I want this. I want you.)

Dean makes a strangled, desperate noise in the back of his throat and his kisses turn more rough and insistent. Castiel pulls away from them with a soft cry, his lips tingling, when Dean’s fingertips press lightly against the slit at the head of his sheath. His back-fans flex in surprise, only to be held down by Dean’s left arm as he rests his fingers over Castiel’s opposite hip.

“Do ya like that?” Dean is smiling and Castiel likes it when he smiles, but he’s very distracted with the slight tremors that shake through him as Dean traces the edges of the slit. “Are you that sensitive here, Cas?”

Castiel is having trouble breathing against the heat flooding his body and swirling through him in a vicious storm. He dreamed of this once, of Dean touching him like this. The memories are broken and barely there, as is the course with dreams, but Castiel remembers how in the dream the sensations of Dean’s touch had been dulled because there was no experience to draw from. Now Castiel knows and it’s making him lose focus on everything else.

“C’mon, Cas.” Dean presses kisses to the scales on his cheeks and to his side-fan. “Let go. This –” He punctuates his point by pressing his thumb firmly against the slit and making Castiel’s whole body twitch. “– doesn’t even hold a match to what it’ll feel like when I touch you properly.”

He finds that hard to believe. Especially when he thinks he could reach completion just from these gentle touches alone. They’re burning through him and he can feel how rapidly he is hardening in his sheath. Castiel can’t even gather himself to concentrate on giving Dean the same kind of pleasure. His hand rests heavily over Dean’s erection, unmoving except for the twitching of his fingers with every pulse of pleasure that courses through his veins at Dean’s touch.

Dean moves his left arm and Castiel nearly collapses backwards, unaware of just how much it had been supporting him. He moves Castiel’s hand and shushes him when a keening noise manages its way past his lips. Castiel jerks his wrist from Dean’s hold and presses his hand back down over his erection. He slides his palm over him like Dean did to him and Dean’s hips rock forward a few times before he grabs Castiel’s hand again and forces it away.

“We’ll get to me eventually, don’t you worry about that.” Dean grins as he tries to lift his hand from his sheath and Castiel hisses unhappily, pushing his palm back against his scales. “I want to take care of you right now, Cas. Let me take care of you.”

Begrudgingly, Castiel lets go of Dean’s hand and he’s unsuccessful in his attempt to not glare at him as Dean shiftes them around. Castiel ends up on his back, head on the pillow and his tail twisting unhappily over the bed. Dean is kneeling next to him and he bats Castiel’s hands away whenever he reaches for him.

(Dean. I want to touch you.) Castiel growls and tries to sit up, only to be pushed back down.

“In a minute, Cas. I wanna see you glow.”

Castiel whines when Dean actually gets up from the bed. He scowls at Dean’s back as he starts rooting around in his pile of clothing. It’s not fair that he touched Castiel like that, made him feel like that, only to stop. Briefly, Castiel wonders if his own fingers would feel as good. He bites his bottom lip and slides his hands over his stomach.

Would Dean be upset if Castiel tried touching himself too? The more he thinks about it, the more he doubts that he would be. Castiel can easily recall that fleeting moment he had seen Dean in the shower, his hand sliding over his erection in short, quick jerks. The memory makes his blood boil and Castiel wants to do that to him too, to see if Dean feels different there. He stifles a groan and presses one hand over his mouth.

Dean stands, but he’s focused on his phone and his walk to the door is distracted. Castiel watches him closely and slowly slides the hand still on his stomach down. He feels where skin gives way to scales and it’s just a hand span below that where he finds the swell of muscle that forms his sheath. The muscles are twitching under his scales and Castiel purposefully avoids the opening at the top to just feel the trembling.

He thinks he might be fully hard under his scales and it’s just the last of his control that’s keeping him sheathed. Castiel twitches when his thumb brushes over the slit and he muffles another noise against the back of his hand. Castiel glances down and his breath hitches. The slit is slowly widening and it might only be a few minutes more before he’s unsheathed.

Castiel traces the edge of the slit with his thumb and his adipose fins ripple violently at the sensation. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as when Dean does it, but it still sends feelings like the bright-bolts of the stormy steady-blue dancing along his spine. He keeps pressing and tracing with his fingers in light touches and it makes him tremble. Castiel closes his eyes and tilts his head back into the pillow, arching into the feeling.

He barely notices when the lights dim down and his glow starts to return. But Castiel does notice the sharp intake of breath at the drawer end of the bed and the surprise that burns hard and quick through the kin-connection only to be swallowed by a swirling surge of arousal.

“Holy shit, Cas…” Dean breathes and when Castiel looks at him, Dean is staring down at him with wide-eyes. (Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me?)

“Please, Dean.” Castiel muffles a whimper against his hand before he reaches for him. (It doesn’t feel the same when I do it.)

(It never does.) Dean puts one knee on the bed and his phone is still in his hand. (You really haven’t touched yourself before, huh?)

Castiel shakes his head. (I didn’t see the point. Dean, please.)

Dean hesitates, one hand dropping to ghost over the scales at the end of his tail as he rolls his phone in his other. There’s a melancholy edge forming in the kin-connection and Castiel doesn’t understand it. Is he doing something wrong to make Dean feel like that? Does Dean not like Castiel touching himself like this? It’s a monumental effort of will to stop his fingers and move his hand away.

(Don’t stop, Cas.) Dean crawls further onto the bed, swinging one leg over Castiel’s tail and settling his weight near the middle of it. He grins lewdly, but that gloomy feeling doesn’t leave his thoughts. (I wanna see you touch yourself.)

Castiel bites at his bottom lip again and he slides his hand back over his hip to touch lightly at his slit. He can feel his blood heating his face and he’s surprised his skin isn’t glowing red hot with how it feels like his insides are boiling. The glow pattern on his tail is lighting parts of Dean where the shadows don’t reach and Castiel feels a pulse of possession at seeing Dean’s skin lit by the light of his glow.

Dean’s hips are rocking slightly against his tail and Castiel can feel the hard line of his erection through the underpants he’s still wearing. One hand is pressed to Castiel’s tail in front of him, his thumb brushing back and forth over one of the lines of his glow pattern.

There is a hesitation to his thoughts, and he glances up from watching Castiel’s fingers. “Can I take a picture of you like this?” His next thoughts are false and wrong in a defensive way that Castiel can’t focus enough to figure out. (It’s your first time, right? We should document it.)

(You’re lying.) Castiel is panting and this isn’t want he wants to talk about right now, but Dean is lying to him and he can’t figure it out on his own. (Why?)

Dean stills and he looks down at his phone. He’s starting to withdraw from the kin-connection and it sends a flare of panic through Castiel’s chest. He sits up quickly, startling Dean. (Don’t, please don’t. I don’t want to lose the kin-connection with you again so soon. Please –)

(Calm down, Cas. I’m not gonna do that. I missed this too. It’s just…) Dean shifts and then he makes an irritated noise. (I don’t like talking about feelings, okay? Especially not when we’re like this.) He gestures between Castiel’s sheath and the front of his underpants. (Can this be something we just forget I asked about? It’s stupid and unimportant.)

(No, it’s not. If it was then you wouldn’t have brought it up in the first place.) Castiel struggles against the heat and arousal pulsing under his skin, fighting it back so he can focus. He pulls the depressed edge of Dean’s thoughts into the center of the kin-connection and pushes it back at him, lined with his own curiosity.

Dean flinches and frowns down at his lap as a frustrated resignation settles over his thoughts. (It’s… I don’t do ‘special’. Not after Cassie – my ex-fiancée. I was all set to marry her and then the shit with Sam and the drugs happened and I ended up in prison. She said she couldn’t deal with all the fucking drama in my family or something and broke up with me. It hurt. She was part of my family by then and she… left me. So I just, I don’t let people get that close anymore and you –)

His shoulders hunch and his emotions are a storm that spike through the kin-connection hard enough to make Castiel wince. (– but you just slipped right past all of that. You’re so fucking different and I just… I want something I can remember you by when you’re gone. Sam and Jess have lots of pictures they took of you that I can look at, but they don’t get to see you like this.)

Something hard and dark – something remarkably close to the same feeling of possession that Castiel has at how Dean’s skin glows with Castiel’s light, or when he looks at the fading marks on his chest – overtakes all the frustration and upset in Dean’s mind. He puts his hand over Castiel’s sheath, his fingertips curling to rub against the slit. It sends shivering bolts shaking through Castiel’s bones and his fans spread sharply, extending to their full height with an audible snap. He fights to keep from being overwhelmed by the sensation prickling under his skin again. Dean takes Castiel’s hand and places it over his own erection. Castiel flexes his fingers and finds Dean’s underpants strangely damp in places.

(This is for me. Not them, not Lilith, not Alistair, or Gordon, or anyone else. This is just you and me. And I don’t want to forget this, okay? I just don’t.)

Castiel folds the end of his tail up and fits it along Dean’s spine. With how Dean is sitting, the tip barely reaches his shoulder blades. He spreads the adipose of his end-fans across Dean’s back and it’s the closest he can get to wrapping Dean in his tail. He doesn’t know what to say, but something hot and fluttery is filling his chest and his lungs and he thinks it might be joy. Dean’s admission has made Castiel happy and he doesn’t stop that feeling from surging through the kin-connection.

At the very back of his mind, there’s a small burn of jealousy that Dean will get to keep something tangible like the pictures when Castiel is gone. Castiel will have nothing but his memories and he knows he’ll never forget them, but it won’t be the same and he envies Dean for having something like that.

The very end of his tail twitches back and forth over Dean’s spine in a tiny caress. (Take your pictures, Dean. As many as you want. I would never deny you that.) He’s not even angry that Dean attempted a lie instead of simply telling him the truth to start with.

Dean’s relief flutters along the edge of his mind and he leans in to kiss Castiel in a quick press and a darting lick at his lips. It’s a soft touch at his shoulders that has him folding his back-fans down and laying back against the pillow. Dean is grinning at Castiel and his elation sparks through the kin-connection in pleasing bursts.

Castiel keeps his flicker of disappointment from the kin-connection when Dean removes his hand so he can fiddle with his phone for a few moments before setting it on the drawers behind him. He rearranges their position so Castiel is laying diagonally across the bed from corner to corner instead of from top to bottom and then Dean moves farther up his tail and his hand is back.

He keeps sliding one finger over Castiel’s slit and he leans forward to look at it. “You opening up for me, Cas? Gonna show me how you glow here too?”

Castiel has only a moment to marvel at how quickly Dean can switch currents before the very end of Dean’s finger presses into his slit, teasing against the sensitive inside edges. He is wholly unprepared for the pleasure that burns through him at that small touch and his back arches from the bed, matched by the strangled moan that spills unheeded into the air. He claws at the sheets for something to hold onto.

Dean grabs one of his hands and replaces his own with it. “Why don’t you give that a try?” He sits back, leaving Castiel’s fingers as the only ones touching him.

When he says Dean’s name, it sounds like a sulking whine and Castiel doesn’t care. It’s not his hand or his touch that he wants. It’s Dean’s, only Dean’s. He pushes that desire through the kin-connection. Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, as if to steady himself, before looking back up at Castiel.

(Should I show you why I want to see you touch yourself?)

Castiel nods and presses the end of his tail harder against Dean’s skin. With Dean sitting closer to his sheath, he can fit more of his tail to Dean’s back and the end is now hooked slightly over his shoulder. His adipose fins ripple in anticipation and he watches closely as Dean moves around until he’s leaning back more heavily against his tail.

It doesn’t take much effort for Castiel to support his weight as Dean puts his legs in front of him instead of kneeling. His knees are in the air now and his feet are planted on the bed by Castiel’s hips. Dean reaches behind him to the drawers and takes out the bottle Castiel had tried to open last night. He leaves it laying on the bed and is careful to not step on Castiel’s adipose fins as he wiggles out of his underpants. Dean removes them one leg at a time before tossing them to the floor.

Dean wastes no time and Castiel doesn’t get the chance to be fascinated by the colour or shape or the differences between a human’s penis and a fin-kin’s. He sits up with the bottle in his hand and flicks open the top with an envious ease. A small amount of clear jelly gets squeezed out into his palm and then the bottle is abandoned next to him again.

The moment Dean puts his hand on himself, hissing quietly at the first touch of his jelly-covered hand, Castiel forgets how to breathe. He watches with wide eyes as Dean spreads the jelly over his erection before he falls into a steady sliding rhythm. Dean leans back again, stretching out his stomach and chest while his legs spread wider.

Another grin is pulling at his lips, unbothered by the hitching breaths that disrupt his normal breathing every time he twists his hand over the head of his erection. Castiel finally takes a long, shaky breath, when Dean brings up his other hand to curl his fingers around and under the rounded sac hanging beneath his penis.

“Do you understand now, Cas?” Dean murmurs as his hips twitch when he slides his thumb over the head of his penis. “You understand now why I wanna see you touch yourself?”

Castiel swallows thickly and nods. He knows he’s staring, but he can’t bring himself to look away. His fingers shake as he blindly gropes over his stomach to press at his slit. He pushes the tip of his finger into the rapidly widening opening and the zigzagging pleasure that sends his adipose fins rippling is almost enough to make him close his eyes.

But he can’t. Not when Dean keeps touching himself and he’s so close that if Castiel just sat up a little, he could reach him. He could touch Dean and feel with his hands the difference in his skin and his heat and –

He hisses in surprise and jerks his hands away from his sheath when he feels something press up against his fingertip. There’s no ache, or pressure, or anything but the tensing of his muscles that mark the unsheathing of his penis. The cool room air is a startling difference on the heated, sensitive skin and Castiel presses both his hands to his mouth to muffle the little surprised ‘oh!’s that keep escaping him.

Dean stops everything he’s doing and leans forward, staring down at Castiel’s erection as it slides free of his sheath. Castiel can’t watch and he feels oddly embarrassed under the close scrutiny. An excited awe fills the kin-connection and Castiel  shuts his eyes to it, his head tilting back against the pillow.

“So I wasn’t seeing things before… you really do glow here too. I mean, you more or less confirmed it before, but I didn’t think you were being serious…” Dean’s voice is pitched lower than usual and Castiel imagines he can actually feel it rubbing over his skin. “Can I touch you, Cas?”

His accession barely slips into the kin-connection before warm fingers ghost over his erection. No one, not even Castiel has touched himself like this and he can’t stifle the low moan that reverberates in his chest. He only resists a little when Dean pulls his arms away and presses his wrists, one by one, to the bed.

“I told you before, didn’t I? I want to hear you.”

And then Dean’s hands are on him again. They’re probing and curious and Castiel is fighting to hold still but his back keeps bowing and surprised gasps fill the air with every new touch or slide of Dean’s thumbs and fingers.

“Shit, Cas, you’ve got actual fuckin’ studding on your cock.” Dean’s voice sounds amazed, but the kin-connection feels like it’s burning under his enthusiasm and a twisting anticipation. Castiel has no idea why Dean finds that exciting.

Dean rubs his thumb over the bumpy line that runs from Castiel’s frenulum to the folded pink muscles that surround the thick base of his penis. At the same time, he drags his fingers over the matching line on the underside. Castiel peeks down the length of his torso and watches with hooded eyes the slide of his fingers as they follow the curved length. His tail falls heavily to the bed when Dean brushes over the sensitive opening of his sheath, almost completely hidden under the rise of his penis.

Something is building hard and fast in his belly. A boiling storm unlike anything that he’s felt searing under his skin before. Castiel arches again, pressing his head back hard against the pillow. He thinks he knows what’s going to happen next, what’s going to happen soon, and he doesn’t want it. Not yet. He wants this to last longer than just these exploring touches.

He isn’t watching anymore, but he feels Dean’s weight shift and lift from his tail. Dean’s hands never leave their careful cataloguing, and his grip is slowly becoming more firm, his fingers tightening as they run from the base to the pointed head. Castiel isn’t expecting a warm mouth on his chest and his whole body twitches under Dean’s tongue as he drags it over a nipple.

(It’s okay, Cas. Virgins usually always come fast the first time they’re touched. It’s alright, you can come. I want you to.) Dean’s thoughts are calm and reassuring, but the touch of his mind only feeds the churning heat spiraling through him.

Castiel groans and shakes his head, digging his fingers into the sheets. Everything feels so good, too good. It’s almost bordering on painful and it’s terrifying. Castiel wants to reach the apex of the monsoon thundering through his body but he’s scared of what will happen when he does.

(No, not yet. Not yet. I want to – Dean – stop, please stop. I want to touch you too.) Castiel paws at his wrists, trying to get his hands to stop.

Dean sighs and sits back. He is kneeling over Castiel’s tail again and his hands slow until they’re almost not even moving. (I told you I was going to take care of you first, Cas. I promise you can touch me as much as you want after. Just let me do this.)

He quirks an eyebrow and smiles lasciviously as image after image start to flood into the kin-connection. (There are so many different things I can show you, Cas. I wanna teach you everything. I wanna make you scream and lose yourself. I want to take all that fin-kin composure of yours, and blow it to smithereens – literally, even.)

He leans over Castiel again and presses a kiss over his heart. Dean starts moving his hands again when Castiel folds his arms over his shoulders. (And when you can do this all again, Cas, when you’re ready for a round two, you can take your pick of how you want me to make you come. I can do it with my hands again, or even with my mouth.)

Castiel cries out as Dean presses a finger against the head of his slit and rubs there firmly as he continues to stroke him. The clear jelly he had on his hand lessens the friction of the touch, but Castiel doesn’t care. Dean offsets it with a tight grip that skates the dangerous edge between pleasure and pain.

(Or if you want, I can really take your virginity and you can fuck me.) The images Dean feeds into the kin-connection sear themselves into Castiel’s mind as he moves up higher, licking and kissing at Castiel’s neck along the edges of the collar. (You could have me on my back or I could ride you almost just like this. Would you like that, Cas?)

Castiel buries his face in Dean’s shoulder. It happens suddenly and without warning and Castiel isn’t sure if he moans or if he screams. His mind fills with a high-pitched buzzing and his whole body trembles under Dean. Pleasure sings through his veins and he’s squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that little lights keep bursting behind his eyelids.

The noise in his head fades more quickly than he thought it would and Castiel sags bonelessly back against the bed. He feels satiated and, for the first time in many long days, content. The familiar ache he’s used to feeling in his gut when he wakes up some nights settles under his scales and when he finally blinks open his eyes and looks down his body, he’s already half sheathed.

Dean is looking down at his hand and a splatter of white across his palm and over Castiel’s stomach. “Huh, I kinda thought that it might glow or something.”

(Don’t be ridiculous.) Castiel struggles up onto his elbows and even that small movement makes his arms shake. It’s the sharp tang of blood in the air that makes Castiel look up quickly from the mess that nearly reaches his chest. (Dean, you’re bleeding!)

(Yeah, that tends to happen when someone with chompers like yours bites you.) Dean shrugs and winces as the movement pulls at the bloody mark on his shoulder. (Don’t worry, it’s fine. It’s not that deep and it won’t even need stitches.) He leans over the edge of the bed to pick up his underpants and he uses them to wipe clean his hand and Castiel’s stomach.

Castiel doesn’t move. His attention is fixed on the mark he left on Dean’s shoulder and something akin to horror is quickly replacing any warmth left from his orgasm. He hurt Dean. He hurt Dean - Dean. Castiel made him bleed. The mark may not be deep, but it might still scar. His insides twist at the thought. He has wanted to leave a permanent mark on Dean, but never like this and never without his permission.

(Don’t you dare start panicking on me now.) Dean places his hand firmly against Castiel’s chest and he leans forward until they’re nose to nose and Castiel is left with no choice but to look him in the eyes. (There’s no need to freak out, okay? Do I look angry to you? Coz’ I’m not. Yeah, you lost it a bit and that’s fine. I’m okay with this and you should be too.)

He wants to object, but Dean presses him back into the pillow with a hard kiss. Dean distracts him with the way his tongue traces his teeth and curls around his own, coaxing him to respond. He kisses the taste of his blood from Castiel’s lips and surprises him with the drag of his nails over the pools of blue light stacked down Castiel’s sides.

Dean smiles into the kiss and he rocks his hips against Castiel’s full sheath. (There are much better things to do now than freak out over something like this.) He takes one of Castiel’s hands and presses it to his chest over his tattoo. “You still want to touch me, Cas?”

His arousal may be banked for now, but Castiel definitely still wants to touch and taste the rest of Dean. He wants to find out all the different noises he can make he wants them all. Castiel wants everything and he needs to make up for the new mark he’s given Dean. And he needs these memories.

The phone beeps behind him and Dean growls, sitting back on his heels and Castiel’s tail. “Fuck, just a sec. I gotta reset it.” He stretches for his phone and Castiel takes the moment to sit up and latch onto one of the marks he made his own.

Dean swears and his whole body jerks under Castiel’s touch. He renews the mark while mapping Dean’s back and stomach with his hands. Castiel finds all the ways Dean’s muscles shift under his skin and he keeps moving from mark to mark while Dean fumbles with his phone. He sucks and licks and kisses at Dean’s collarbone until he reaches the bleeding bite on his shoulder.

“Cas, I’m really not into blood pl – shit.” Dean’s fingers dig into Castiel’s shoulders as he licks apologetically at the wound he gave him.

There are no healing properties to Castiel’s saliva and he has no pressing urge to taste Dean’s blood. Castiel feels regret for hurting him like this, despite how Dean says it doesn’t hurt. He knows of no other way to show his remorse for his loss of control than to care for the mark he made. With gentle swipes of his tongue, he cleans Dean’s skin of the stain of his blood.

When done, Castiel wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and he twists. Dean grunts his surprise as Castiel switches their positions and drops him back against the pillow.

“A little warning next time, maybe?” Dean laughs, letting his arms and legs fall open and to the sides. “So, what’re you gonna do?”

He tilts his head and sits back on the fold of his tail as he appraises Dean’s body. (I don’t know.)

Dean laughs again and he slides his hand down his chest to rest under where his penis curves up his belly. (If I might make a suggestion…? Coz’, seriously, we’re fuckin’ lucky I didn’t come all on my own, especially with all those sexy faces and noises you kept making.)

(Don’t share the memories.) Castiel shields his mind from those parts of Dean’s thoughts, sensing the oncoming images. (Those are for you, not me. I’ll make my own right now.)

A shudder works through Dean’s limbs and he rewards Castiel with a lopsided grin. Anticipation thrums hot through what parts of the kin-connection Castiel has left open. (Hell yes, I am all for this.)

Castiel draws the same sounds he’s heard before, though Dean mutes them by biting his lip, by paying close attention to Dean’s nipples. He finds that Dean is sensitive where his skin thins over his ribs, but that the stretch of his side between his ribs and his hip is ticklish. The dip of Castiel’s tongue into his bellybutton makes Dean squirm, but his breathing hitches pleasantly.

Dean keeps his fingers in Castiel’s hair, urge him with gentle pressure toward certain areas and away from others. He makes a breathless noise when Castiel sucks another mark into his skin next to the dip of his belly button and another on hipbone. He has been purposefully avoiding Dean’s penis, though he felt the surprisingly soft skin brush against his collarbone or his throat while he worked across Dean’s stomach.

Dean makes a quiet pleading noise and his hips roll up, pressing against the underside of Castiel’s arms. “C’mon, Cas, don’t tease me. I know you want to touch so just touch already.”

The scent of Dean is stronger here. It’s heady and intoxicating and Castiel isn’t sure what to do. He pushes up until he’s supporting himself with his hands on the bed on either side of Dean’s hips instead of laying almost flat against his thighs.

(Is there anything I’m not allowed to do?) Castiel asks, curious of Dean’s answer.

He puts his weight on one hand and places the other over his penis. Dean’s groan is one of appreciation and his hips start to thrust up, sliding his erection against Castiel’s palm. The skin is smooth, but underneath is hard. Castiel admires how it’s the same girth for almost the whole length, but the head is capped and blunt and clear fluid is leaking from the small slit in the top.

(Fuck, I don’t really care what you do as long as I get off and soon. Hand, mouth, do whatever you want – just, for the love of all that is rock and roll, if you’re going to blow me be careful.)

The images he provides to describe the words he speaks are confusing and Castiel frowns up at him. (That’s sucking, not blowing.)

(It’s a euphemism. Don’t nitpick right now, Cas. You’re blue-balling me here.)

(Your ‘balls’ is this thing right here?) Castiel moves his hand and cups the round sac laying under Dean’s penis. He understands the name for them when he feels the two lumps within. (They’re not blue. Unless… are they blue inside? Under your skin?)

Dean groans and flicks his frustration at Castiel through the kin-connection. (You’re doing that on purpose and for fuck’s sake be careful! Those are the family jewels and they’re sensitive and delicate and – holyshit, do that again!)

(If they’re so delicate, why are they on the outside of your body? That doesn’t make sense.) Castiel’s question goes unanswered when he presses his finger again into the space between where Dean’s penis ends and his balls begin.

Dean’s fingers tighten almost painfully in his hair and the image of another place to touch pushes against his thoughts. Carefully, Castiel moves his hand below the sac and presses at the soft stretch of skin behind and beneath them. He’s rewarded with the best sound yet and Dean’s back actually curves off of the bed.

Dean lets go of Castiel’s hair to grope for one of his hands. “You need to – fuck, please – Cas, y’gotta –”

The images he receives are foggy and unclear, and Castiel is amazed in the change of Dean’s body. His scent is thicker and his skin is shiny and wet in places. He’s flushed in his face and his neck and down into his chest. There is a pool of clear precome forming on his belly under the head of his penis and Castiel folds his tail under him a bit more to steady himself.

He moves Dean’s erection and the touch of his cool fingers makes Dean groan. His hips start moving in earnest and Castiel watches, distracted from what he intended to do, as Dean pushes his penis into the circle of his fingers. The head of his erection threatens to catch on the stretch of webbing between his index and thumb every time it slides down and back up.

“Tighter – you’re holdin’ too loose –” Dean’s words stumble around his heavy breaths and he folds his hand around Castiel’s fingers too. (Don’t stop pressing – fuck yes – Cas, you’re doing awesome!)

Castiel doesn’t fully understand how he can be doing so well. He’s barely doing anything at all. Although, if he thinks about it, rubbing at this spot behind Dean’s balls must be similar to when Dean pressed at the head of his opening. And he could be, in the loosest sense of the word, considered to be stroking Dean’s erection like he did Castiel’s.

He’s getting no further instructions at the moment and Dean’s thoughts, when Castiel reaches for them, are hazy and seared through with pleasure. It’s only a moment of consideration before he leans forward and laps at the little puddle of clear liquid still on Dean’s stomach. It’s slightly salty, but not unpleasant. The reaction the small gesture gets is entirely surprising.

Dean’s back arches again and the noise he makes sounds like a garbled mix of Castiel’s name and several different curse words. The warm splash on his throat and over his gills is unexpected. Castiel sits back slowly as Dean sinks back down onto the bed, body lax and his thoughts drifting. It’s several long moments before he opens his eyes and looks down at Castiel.

“Oh, shit!” Dean sits up quickly and starts fumbling for his discarded underpants. “Sorry, Cas! You caught me off guard and it’s been a few days – Fuck, hold on I’ll clean you up in a second. Where the hell did I put –”

His words fall flat and he stares, motionless, at Castiel. There’s a bit of milky white fluid on his hand and Castiel licks it off carefully. The taste is similar to the clear precome and it’s not something that Castiel minds terribly. Dean is still staring when Castiel looks back at him and he’s not exactly sure why. His thoughts are strangely quiet until Castiel gets the underpants from where he left them at the end of the bed.

(You want these?) He tilts his head as Dean takes them slowly, but Dean’s eyes are sliding from his hand to his throat.

“Yeah, uh –” Dean swallows thickly and shakes himself from whatever stupor settled in his mind. Castiel pulses curiosity and confusion at him, but Dean shakes those off too. “It’s nothing. C’mere. I made a mess of you.”

Castiel tilts his head back to let Dean clean him with his bunched underpants. He looks back down at a soft snort of laughter. Pride and defiance sing through the kin-connection and Dean is smirking almost triumphantly.

(What is it?)

(I came on Lilith’s fuckin’ collar.) He grins before scrubbing at it with his clothing. (You know you didn’t have to lick that up, right?)

(I wanted to. I want to taste and touch all of you, Dean.) Castiel slips closer as Dean tosses the dirtied underpants to the floor. He curls his arms around Dean’s chest and presses his face to his neck. (Next time, can you use your mouth and I’ll use mine too?)

Dean laughs and leans back slowly against the pillow before wrapping his arms around Castiel’s shoulders, careful of his back-fans. (A good ol’ sixty-nine, then? Yeah, I think that’s doable.)

A new pulse of heat shivers under his skin at the image Dean provides. Castiel works his tail around Dean’s legs, curling around him tightly. He doesn’t feel tired, but he thinks he could nap here, bound in Dean’s heat with the scent of their releases filling the air. Dean gave him pleasure and Castiel returned it in kind.

Despite everything else happening in his life, everything that awaits them on the other side of the door, Castiel finds himself happy. Given the situation he is in, it’s a strange feeling to have. But he can’t quite bring himself to care. Castiel hums one of the cheerier songs of his colony into Dean’s skin, relishing in the gentle slide of Dean’s fingers through his hair.

Dean says nothing and the kin-connection between them drifts in comfortable silence. When Castiel finishes the first song, he hums another, and another. He’s part way through the third song when the door beeps and a dull thump sounds against it as it shudders against the lock.

There is a loud, muffled curse and then Sam’s irritated voice comes through. “Goddammit, Dean! Open the door or you can go get your own frikken breakfast!”