27. Recording

(You still haven’t told me how we’re going to escape.) Castiel pulls at the walls around Dean’s mind, dragging his curiosity against them much the same way he’s dragging Dean back and forth across small-sea by his wrists. (Has Meg even told you? How are we supposed to trust her if she won’t share the details? What if it’s just another of Lilith’s traps?)

Castiel is swimming backwards so he can see Dean. It’s with gentle prompting through the kin-connection that Dean tells him when he’s approaching the wall and he changes course. Dean rubs his thumbs along the understand of Castiel’s wrists in comforting circles. (You know I can’t tell you. But she did explain it to me and Sam, and it’s a sound plan. It’s a fucking awesome plan. We won’t even need our lifeboat plan and we’re all going to get out of here – you, me, Sam and Jess, Bobby and Pam, Meg too. We’re going to get out of here and Lilith won’t be able to do a thing about it.)

(But how –) Castiel slides to a stop, almost sitting for how close he is to the floor.

Dean shakes his head, cutting him off. (I shouldn’t have even told you that Meg had a plan, Cas. We can’t take the risk. You understand.)

No matter how many times they have this conversation it never changes that he does understands. And that’s part of the reason he hates it. It’s logical that he be kept in the dark, even though he knows there’s no way that Lilith could forcefully get the information from him through the kin-connection. She would have to torture him to a point where he would give anything to make her stop and if he ever reached that position, Castiel would likely have no control over himself by then. But he would rather suffer her punishments than betray Dean and his family. He’s just not sure what he might do under the pain of the shock-tag.

A warm hand cups his jaw and Dean’s thumb presses under his bottom lip. (Don’t pout, Cas.)

Castiel jerks away, rolling his tail so he slips out of Dean’s reach. (I’m not pouting. Warriors don’t pout.)

Amusement pulses through the kin-connection and he can hear Dean’s laugh rumbling in his chest. (And now you’re just sulking. You really should stop being so cute. It just makes me want to kiss you.)

He glares over his shoulder at Dean and continues to drift just outside of arm’s length, even as Dean tries swimming closer. (I am neither sulking, nor am I cute. And you are not allowed to kiss me.) They both know that his words are nothing but false bravado. He can never refrain from kissing Dean for very long – especially not now that he knows he only has a few more days with him.

Dean’s eyes crinkle at their corners behind the glass-frame and he raises his hands. (Oh, I see how it is.) He flips his legs forward and starts kicking back toward the platform-wall. His thoughts curl teasingly through the kin-connection to slide along his own. (I’ll just leave you to your not-sulking then. When you’re done, we can read some more, or play cards, or even-) A few searing images slip into their link and Castiel’s fans flare automatically.

Castiel shakes his head and firmly shoves the images back. He crosses his arms over his chest and glowers at Dean from the other side of small-sea. He has many more questions about what is supposed to happen in two days and Dean is refusing to give him any further information. As a soldier – let alone as a strategist – it is very difficult to provide any form of assistance without being properly informed. He’s frustrated, and annoyed and he doesn’t want to deal with Dean’s teasing right now.

For a few moments, Dean floats just shy of the surface and he watches Castiel closely. Resignation settles slowly over his mind and he paddles his hands to get himself to sink. (It really bothers you, huh?)

(It wouldn’t bother you?)

(Yeah, it totally would. But don’t you trust me, Cas?)

Castiel’s adipose fins ripple and he frowns at the floor. (Yes, of course I do. It’s Meg and her sudden decision to assist us that I don’t trust. It’s too good to be true and it worries me. Why didn’t she put this plan into motion before? Why did she wait til now?)

He can feel Dean’s indecision fill the kin-connection and when Castiel looks up, Dean is running his hand through his hair and staring over his shoulder at the door. Castiel waits in silence for several long minutes before Dean’s shoulders slump and he looks back at him.

(I can’t tell you everything, okay?)

His fans flare again and he perks up. Castiel twists forward, tail flicking to send him across small-sea. He fits himself to Dean’s chest and slips his arms around his waist, resting them just under the tank of air on his back. His added weight makes them sink completely until Dean is sitting on the floor and Castiel is pressed against him, tail curled loosely around one leg.

Dean’s laugh reverberates beneath his cheek and his arms fold around Castiel’s shoulders. (Just some vague things, okay? I want to tell you everything, I do. Coz’ it sucks leaving you in the dark when this is all for you in the first place, but there are risks we just can’t take.)

(I know, Dean. But I still want to know.) He nudges his forehead against Dean’s chin. (Please tell me what you can.)

His hands – still so warm, even in small-sea – brush over the top-spines of his back-fans, fingers playing with the webbing. (There’s… Jesus, I’m shit at being subtle. There’s going to be outside help. Help with firepower.)

Castiel contemplates this while Dean guides his back-fans to spread wide, fold closed, and spread open again. (So there will be more humans? New ones. With more weapons than Lilith’s people have?)

(Yup.)

(And we’re just supposed to trust them implicitly? What if they’re no better than Lilith?) His tail curls tighter, adipose fins rippling. (What if they’re worse?)

Dean’s hands fall heavily over his back-fans and he hugs Castiel tightly. (You’ll never know if they are or aren’t. As soon as the plan starts and we’re out on deck, you’re going overboard. You’re going to swim as far and as fast as you can and you’re not going to look back.)

Something sharp and painful digs a home in Castiel’s chest. (But what about the shock-tag? And the possibility of another tracking tag? I can’t go home with either of those. And I’m not leaving you until I know that you’re going to be safe too.)

(Once you’re out of range of the remote control, that fucking shock-tag isn’t going to be able to hurt you.) One hand slides down Castiel’s spine, lingering by his shoulder blade where they both know the last tag had been. (And we have no proof that they stuck another tracker on you. I didn’t see any welts and I would have noticed, trust me on that. Especially since I’ve tasted just about every inch of you. Did you have any sore spots like the last time?)

Castiel shakes his head. (No, there’s been no pain. Not like before, and not like the pain where the shock-tag is – I felt it every time you touched there. But I can’t risk the colony’s safety. I won’t return to them without being absolutely certain that no human will be able to follow me there. And I’m still not leaving unless you’re safe.)

(Cas, Lilith could care less about me. It’s you she wants and it’s you anyone else will be interested in.) Dean’s fingers rub over the back of his neck and the edge of his hairline where the shock-tag is hidden under his skin. (I didn’t like the idea of letting anyone else know about you, but Meg said her contacts already know and that’s why they’re helping. I think they’re some activist group, or something, and they just want you to be free.)

He growls and turns his face into Dean’s neck, pressing his nose against the dip in his clavicle. (I don’t like it.)

Dean rests his chin on the top of his head, absently stroking whatever skin or scales lay under his hands. (Neither do I. It’s great that we’re getting you out, yeah, but I don’t really want to put my hope in a bunch of people I don’t even know. I’ve got enough trust issues to start with and if I could, I’d rather get you out by myself. But Lilith has me pinned when she’s got every weak spot I have under a gun, or a tag.)

It takes a moment to realize what Dean said and Castiel’s fans flare the moment he understands. He lifts his head to look at Dean, but his face is tilted toward the surface and the light is reflecting on the glass. Even though he can’t see Dean’s eyes, he can see the corners of his lips tilt up around the black-circle over his mouth. Warmth ripples through the kin-connection and Dean’s arms tighten when Castiel presses a kiss to his chin.

(We gonna have a repeat of this morning?) Dean shifts his legs slightly, just a fraction that has Castiel settling easier between them. A few curls of arousal tremble around his words and Dean tilts his head back more, baring his throat and the bruise.

Castiel  shakes his head and presses a kiss to the mark. He’d like to, but he’s still feeling the tight press of trepidation around his heart and lungs. If Meg’s friends do manage to get them out, Castiel has less than two days left with Dean. He wants to take every chance he can to devote everything about Dean and his body to memory, but the thought of doing anything more than this makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

He’s not scared of doing those things with Dean and not having them again. Castiel has already come to terms with that and he’ll face any regret when the time comes. He wants those memories so he’ll have something to look back on when he feels alone. But the sadness weighing on his heart dampens any arousal he might feel at Dean’s images, or words, or even the feel of his body under him. It doesn’t hinder the warmth that glows along his bones and curls around his insides, and that fuels the gentle touch of his lips to Dean’s neck, to his collarbone and anywhere he can reach without really moving.

Dean’s hum vibrates the skin under his mouth and a hand pushes up into his hair. It’s eerily similar to what happened a few hours ago after Dean had told him of their time limit together. Castiel had been stunned, certainly, and conflicting emotions had stormed through him to the point that it had made him dizzy. There had been hope, and happiness, but those had been darkened by his doubts, his distrust for other humans, and his fear.

His first reaction had been to hug Dean, to press him back against the pillows with a hard kiss that left them both panting. It was little different to how he’d so blindly pawed at Dean when he had told Castiel Lilith’s plans. This time, Dean had stopped him before he could get his hands under his clothing in another desperate attempt to escape his misery at having to leave Dean sooner than expected.

(If you’re really worried about tags, you don’t have to go too far. You just get away from here until we’re done dealing with Lilith and this boat.) Dean nudges his fingers behind Castiel’s side-fans, distracting him from the memories. (When we leave on the other one, you can come back. If they’re not a research vessel and don’t have an x-ray machine, I’m sure that Pam can think up something and we’ll check you over and get that shock-tag out.)

Castiel nudges his nose under Dean’s jaw, tilting his head into the press of his fingers. (But what if they’re just like Lilith?)

(I’ll let you know if they’re not trustworthy. If they aren’t, you stay the hell away. You turn around and you dive down and you go home. Don’t worry about the tags, okay?) One hand presses down over the spot between Castiel’s shoulder blades. (Ash may not have been able to get into the closed system on the boat, but he’s hacked into more satellites than I can count. If there’s a chip in you, he’ll find the signal and knock it out. And that shocker won’t work without the remote so you’ll be fine.)

A lump squeezes tight in his throat and Castiel digs his fingers into Dean’s back. He wants to ask if there’s any chance of seeing Dean again, or if Dean will even want to see him once all of this is over. Despite the warmth that pulsates constantly through the kin-connection, Castiel can’t forget that Dean never intended for their relationship to be like this. Dean had even said that he wasn’t looking for anything like what Castiel wants – and Castiel wants Dean as his mate in all senses of the word.   

It’s possible that Dean’s view on the matter has changed, but Castiel is too scared to ask. If Dean says ‘no’, it will hurt. And a ‘yes’ would be even worse. If Dean ever says that he wants to be Castiel’s mate too, how Castiel could ever possibly leave him.

The question weighs heavy on his tongue and in his mind. He can’t think of any way that he would get see Dean again – but that’s because he knows so little about humans. There’s more to their world than he knows and maybe there’s something in it that will allow Dean to see him again. Dean will never be able to come down to the trench and see the colony, but maybe he could go back to the light-beds and Castiel could visit him?

Dean shifts under his cheek and one of his hands leaves. Castiel feels the loss of warmth on his skin and he whines, nipping disapprovingly at Dean’s collarbone. As disorganized as his thoughts are now, and the mess of his emotions boiling behind the walls in his mind, Castiel is comfortable in the heat of Dean’s body. He catches himself before he can start thinking about how once he gets home he won’t have this again.

(Cas, the air tank is low. I won’t be able to stay down here much longer.)

Castiel  reluctantly draws away. He follows Dean up to the surface, but keeps his mouth and gills under the water as Dean removes all his gear, putting it over the glass-wall and onto the tiered platform. Dean rubs his hands over his face and wiggles his jaw from side to side a few times before smiling at Castiel.

(What do you want to do? Stay in here or come out with me?)

He chews his bottom lip lightly and slides closer, wedging himself against Dean’s chest again. Castiel presses his lips to the scabbed bite on Dean’s left shoulder. If he could, he’d like to preserve this moment as it is, with just him and Dean in the water. His mind is too cluttered for him to be truly interested in anything sexual, but Dean’s body is addicting in its heat and the feel and taste of his skin. It’s a pleasure to touch whether it makes him harden in his sheath or not.

(I’ll take this as you wanting to come out too.) Dean laughs and the sound echoes on the water as he puts one arm around Castiel’s shoulders, the cast heavy over his back-fans. (Not interested in doing anything, huh? You’re not over thinking everything again, are you?)

Castiel winces at the question. He doesn’t answer and Dean sighs against his side-fan. (It’s going to be fine, Cas. I wouldn’t be going through with Meg’s plan if it wasn’t a good, solid one.)

(That’s not what I’m thinking about.) He rests his cheek over the bite mark. His fears regarding that have more or less been appeased. It’s everything about losing Dean that clouds his thoughts and steals his desire he has to do anything – and that includes reading, or playing cards, or even talking.

(Then what’s up? You practically shut down after – is it because I stopped you again? You know it’s not because I don’t want to, right?) Dean’s confusion presses heavily through the kin-connection, concern in every word. (I just don’t want to do it without you actually being there and enjoying it too. And I’m not a distraction, Cas. You can’t just use me like that whenever you want to forget something.)

Castiel winces again and ducks his head. He knows it’s not right to purposefully search for distraction when he touches Dean, but he can’t help it. Dean is very good at making him forget. He leans back and glances up at Dean and the small frown creasing his forehead.

(I’m sorry.) He narrows his side-fans and flattens them. (I didn’t mean to be insulting.)

(It’s actually a little flattering. But that doesn’t mean it’s okay. As long as you know that, then it’s fine now.) Dean tilts his head forward and their foreheads bump. (You gonna tell me what’s wrong?)

He wants to, he wants to tell him everything and beg for Dean to find a way for them to see each other again. But he can’t. It would be asking too much of Dean, more than he’s willing to give. Castiel already knows this. Dean has already said it. He shakes his head and tilts his chin up to kiss him.

Dean pulls away after just a few moments. (Is it about the escape?)

He dips his head again, neither confirming nor denying. (I don’t want to talk about it.)

Concern curls through the kin-connection and he can feel Dean watching him closely. A resigned sigh sounds between them and Dean presses a kiss to his forehead. (If you’re going to be a downer the rest of the day, I’m just going to keep asking until you tell me. Just keep in mind, we’ve got two days left. Do you really want to spend it too lost in your head to enjoy it?) Dean’s hand moves to his shoulder and pushes at it slightly. (I’ve gotta hit the washroom. You gonna stay in here until I get back or do you want to come out now?)

(Out, please.)

Castiel helps Dean out of the tank and waits until he’s ready to help him. Dean arranges a bunch of towels on the floor next to his bed and places Castiel on them while he changes from his swim-shorts to regular clothing. Castiel dries off the excess water before pulling himself up onto the bed. His arms still feel weak from this morning and even coiling and pushing with his tail doesn’t get him all the way up. He manages to get onto his belly before Dean helps him the rest of the way.

(I’ll be right back.) Dean kisses the back of his head before Castiel is turned around and settled. He cuts the kin-connection himself as he’s going out the door.

While Dean is gone, Castiel makes himself comfortable among the pillows and blankets. He likes that they’ve kept the ones from Sam and Jess’s bed and wonders, if they asked, if Lilith would give them more. If there were more pillows, he could line the edges of the bed with them and neither he nor Dean would accidentally hit the wall or the drawers. Castiel has done that a few times with his tail and it hasn’t exactly hurt, but it’s annoying.

He picks up the book that Dean was reading to him and tries to focus his thoughts on the plot of the story. If he can stop thinking about leaving Dean, maybe they could read the book again and Dean would stop worrying about him. Castiel hates feeling like this and he hates that he’s troubling Dean with it. But it would be more upsetting for Dean if he told him everything that fills his head.

Dean returns and Castiel forces himself to smile up at him as he holds out the book. He reestablishes the kin-connection immediately. (Can we read again, please?) It’ll be nice to listen to Dean’s voice again and be curled against his warmth.

(Sure. We got another few hours before supper. You want to read the whole time?) He takes the book and settles next to Castiel on the bed, keeping his arms raised out of the way so Castiel can settle against him.

Castiel chooses to lay on Dean like they were in the tank, with his arms around his waist and his cheek on his chest. He can hear Dean’s heartbeat against his side-fan and it is a steady rhythm with his words as he starts reading again. Dean continues until his leg falls asleep under Castiel’s tail. By then, Castiel has nearly been lulled asleep by the constant rumble of his voice under his cheek.

“You still with me, Cas?”

He hums and rubs his cheek into Dean’s shirt, making him laugh. “Y’gotta let my leg go, it’s all tingly and stuff. If you want to curl up, there is another leg you could use.”

His groan of disapproval gets muffled by the shirt as Dean starts to squirm, trying to work his leg out from under Castiel’s tail. Castiel moves his hands, dragging his nails over Dean’s sides exactly where he knows that he is ticklish. The noise Dean makes is loud, high pitched, and surprising to the both of them. He looks up at Dean and thinks they might both have the same wide-eyed look. Dean’s ears are red and the blush spreads under his freckles the longer Castiel stares at him.

(That never happened.)

(I’m quite sure that it did.)

(No, no it didn’t.)

(I’m certain it did.) To make his point, Castiel forces his hands under Dean’s shirt and repeats the motion.

The noise dies in Dean’s throat, but he squirms and shoves at Castiel’s arms. “Cut it out!”

Castiel pulls back sharply and drops his weight over Dean’s legs. He hears the book hit the floor and Dean’s hands tug gently – but insistently – at his back-fans. “Cas, don’t you dare!”

(Don’t do what?) He asks, running one finger innocently over the top of Dean’s toes through his socks. (Don’t do this?) His finger dips down over the bottom of his foot and Dean’s legs twitch under him. (Or did you mean this?) He drums the tips of all four fingers lightly in the middle of his foot and Dean makes the noise again.

Dean starts laughing and he paws at Castiel’s sides, trying to pull him away from his feet. He can’t even form words through the kin-connection or with his voice. Their link is full of Castiel’s amusement and Dean’s laughter. There are curls of annoyance, and pleading, but Dean isn’t angry with him for the tickling so Castiel sees no point in stopping any time soon. He continues until Dean is folded over Castiel’s back, his arms around his waist and gasping for breath against his shoulder.

The moment Castiel lets go, Dean drags him back up the bed and pins him to the pillows. Castiel grins up at the disapproving scowl that doesn’t match the soft eyes above it. Dean settles with his knees on either side of Castiel’s hips and purposefully pinches his adipose fins in retaliation, making him wince.

Dean starts tracing the blue lines along his sides.  (Well, at least you’re smiling now. You in a better mood than earlier?)

Castiel nods. Dean’s laughter is a good balm for his thoughts. He tugs at Dean’s outer shirt. (How much time do we have until dinner?)

(Enough.) Dean shrugs his outer shirt off and removes his other one just as quickly.

He still doesn’t quite feel like doing anything at the moment, but Castiel also doesn’t feel the need to lose himself in Dean like he did earlier. Maybe he’ll feel more like it the more they touch right now. Castiel doesn’t think that what he wants to do right now is the same as what Dean said he shouldn’t do earlier. He’s not using Dean as a distraction now.

Castiel pulls Dean down to him with a hand on the back of his neck. He can still taste the salt of small-sea on his lips, but his tongue tastes like Dean and Castiel revels in it. His back arches to push his chest up into the warm touch of Dean’s fingers. When Dean lightly traces around his nipples, Castiel whines until Dean touches them firmly and he groans against his mouth.

He tries to repay the touch, his own hands playing over Dean’s back and along his ribs, but Dean grabs his wrists and presses them to the bed at his sides. Dean smiles at the growl that rumbles in Castiel’s throat. (Let me have my fun first, Cas.)

(Why can’t I touch too?)

(Because I know how much you like touching me-) Dean slides his lips and tongue and teeth over Castiel’s jaw and along his neck. (-and this is your punishment for the tickling.)

Something that feels a lot like irritation tickles along the edges of the kin-connection as Dean’s tongue drags over his pulse point. He opens his mouth over that spot, like he did days ago to show Castiel how to make a hickey, and his tongue runs over the fading mark he left there before he moves on. Castiel pushes his chest into the press of his mouth as Dean licks his way further down.

Castiel tries to pull his arms free, but Dean’s weight is still heavy on his wrists. Heat is curling through his veins, burning over and under his skin along the path of Dean’s lips and tongue. When his teeth graze over one of his nipples, Castiel’s head thumps back against the pillow and he tries to stifle the whine that claws its way into the air.

He can feel Dean’s smile against his skin as he moves from one side of his chest to the other. Dean spends several long minutes paying close attention to his nipples. It makes Castiel’s tail twist back and forth over the bed and he wishes Dean would move and touch elsewhere – or even just let him touch. It doesn’t matter that Dean’s hips are rocking and rubbing his weight over Castiel’s sheath in a pleasing press that sends shivers through his bones.

(Dean –) Castiel tugs fruitlessly at his arms and he whimpers when Dean slides lower, the weight leaving his lap so his lips can trace the blues lines of his glow pattern on his sides.

(After Lilith’s last dinner with you tomorrow, the last time she’s going to see you, I’m going to cover you in hickeys, Cas.) Dean keeps sliding lower until he finds the arch of Castiel’s hip. He sucks lightly at the thin skin, not nearly hard or long enough to leave any kind of a mark, but the point is made. (I’m going to do everything to you that she forbade.)

Castiel squirms under the drag of his tongue along where skin becomes scale and he bites his bottom lip, muffling his groan at the images and the heat that sears through the kin-connection. Dean laughs against his belly and presses hard against his wrists again. (You leave these here. If they move, if you touch me, we’re going to stop.)

(I only tickled you a little bit.) Castiel squirms, curling his fingers tightly in the blankets. (Dean, you’re not being fair.)

Dean hums in agreement and he presses his tongue to the slit of his sheath. Castiel’s shout of surprise echoes off of small-sea and Dean’s satisfaction curls through the kin-connection with his amusement. He can feel the hard line of Dean’s erection through his jeans as he keeps rubbing against Castiel’s tail. His knuckles are white with how hard he’s gripping the blankets as Dean pays close attention to the widening slit, the muscles twitching under his tongue.

(The thing about me, Cas, is that sometimes I like making my partner squirm.) Dean’s hand is warm against his scales when he presses it over his sheath, thumb stroking teasingly. (Sometimes I can be a little cruel because I like to see you beg. If you want to touch, you have to ask me nicely.)

Castiel growls, frustration trembling the edges around his mind. Dean never stops with the movement of his hips, or the slide of his tongue and fingers. He traces the sensitive inside edge of the slit with a fingertip before using his tongue, one of his hands holding Castiel’s hips down to keep him from bucking into the touch.

(You sure do take more attention to get hard than anyone else I’ve met before.) Dean sits back slightly, pushing his palm from the base of the sheath to the head as he looks down at it. (Is that a fin-kin thing, or just you?)

He twitches at the brush of Dean’s fingers over the slit every time his hand reaches the head of his sheath. (I – Dean, I am – inside the – do you have any idea how hard it is to think when you keep doing that?)

“Sure do.” He grins up at Castiel once before dipping his head again to follow his hand with his lips. (If you’re hard inside, why isn’t it coming out?)

Castiel shifts under the touch, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he watches Dean’s actions. The muscles of his sheath are twitching hard and the only reason he hasn’t unsheathed yet is because he’s holding back, drawing this out for as long as he can so he has more time to memorize the feel of Dean’s hands. His control is surprising. It was so much harder to restrain himself the first few times that they touched.

(You’re holding back again, aren’t you?) Dean looks up at him, never stopping with his tongue. (Don’t do that, Cas. Let it out. And stop biting your lip. You’ll ruin it with those teeth of yours.)

His control slips just a little and Dean makes an approving noise as the head of Castiel’s penis pushes out through the slit. Dean sits back on Castiel’s tail, continuing to rub his sheath with one hand. (How about we make a deal? You let it out and I’ll let you touch me.)

Castiel’s adipose fins ripple wildly and his fingers flex across the sheets. He can taste blood on his tongue and he knows he’s bitten too deep into his bottom lip. But he doesn’t care because Dean is leaning back further, reaching for the top drawer and Castiel knows exactly what Dean is getting. He swallows thickly and lets the rest of his control fall way. His penis is fully unsheathed by the time Dean leans forward again, another couple condoms in hand.

(There we go, Cas. That’s what I like to see.) Dean smiles warmly at him and he lightly touches the folds of pink muscle at the base of his penis. (Have you decided yet if you want to do it today or if you’d rather wait until tomorrow?)

He shakes his head, unsure. He wants Dean now, but they haven’t prepared him and he’s not sure if he can hold out long enough – especially if Dean insists on stroking him as he’s applying the condom. Castiel  presses up with his hips, pushing into the curl of Dean’s fingers. Dean is watching him with a raised eyebrow, his hand moving almost absently over Castiel’s erection.

(I don’t know if I can wait until you’re ready.) Castiel’s hands shake after he lets go of the sheets and he sits up as he reaches for Dean. (We would need to prepare you beforehand or I -) He bites his lip again, embarrassed to explain further.

Dean looks down as Castiel’s fingers work to undo the button of his pants. The moment they’re open, he rises up onto his knees and Castiel tugs the clothing – including his underpants – down. His hands leave him for only as long as it takes to remove his jeans completely. Dean takes a moment to put the other condom on himself before he settles down again, sitting much higher up in Castiel’s lap – high enough that he can hold their erections together easily.

(Tomorrow then. We can prep me before I get you all excited.) Dean starts rolling his hips, his erection a line of heat pushing against Castiel. (That sound good?)

Castiel nods and replaces one of Dean’s hands with his own, curling his fingers around them both. The other he uses to pull Dean forward into another kiss, eager to taste his tongue again. Dean turns his face at the last moment so the kiss falls to the side of his mouth.

(I said it before. I’m not into blood play. You’re gonna taste like blood if I kiss you and I don’t want that.) Dean kisses the base of Castiel’s side-fan instead. (I told you not to bite your lips. You should have listened.)

He hisses, frowning against the side of Dean’s neck. He can’t help that his teeth are so sharp. But the cuts should heal soon, hopefully. Castiel traces his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and winces at the sting. It’s not fair and when Dean sits back again, there’s a smear of red on his neck. He rubs it away before Dean might notice. Castiel presses one hand to the bed, ignoring how his arm shakes, and uses it for the leverage necessary to thrust up into the grip of their hands. The motion is a good distraction from the frustration at not being allowed to kiss him.

Dean’s mouth finds the edges of his gills and his tongue is warm and wet over the scales lining them. He murmurs encouragement into Castiel’s skin. His other hand mirrors Castiel’s, pressed into the bed on Castiel’s other side. He uses it for support as he leans forward and thrusts harder against Castiel’s penis. One of his fingers traces lightly over the head of Castiel’s slit and it forces another groan from him.

Castiel licks his lips again, waiting for the moment when he doesn’t taste blood. He wants to kiss Dean and even the heat burning under his skin and scales isn’t enough to distract him from that desire. They keep this rhythm for longer than Castiel cares to count, continuing the roll of hips and the slide of fingers until Castiel’s arm gives out.

He collapses against the pillows, hissing as his back-fans fold awkwardly. Dean lets him get comfortable before he leans forward and kisses him, not waiting for Castiel to catch his breath as he slides his tongue over his lips and teeth. He doesn’t get the chance to think that his lip must have healed before Castiel’s moan at the familiar, addicting taste, is muffed between them. Castiel digs his fingers into Dean’s hair to hold him in place.

(Look how long you’re holding out now, Cas. You’re gonna do great tomorrow.) Dean’s approval vibrates with his arousal and eagerness. (I can’t wait to feel all of this – all of you.) He drags one finger from the base of Castiel’s erection to the head, rubbing purposefully at all the sensitive spots that force a variety of noises from him. (I want all your firsts, Cas, all of them.)

Dean can have them. His firsts, his lasts, his everything. They’re already Dean’s and Castiel isn’t sure if he should say it or if Dean knows it by now. He floods the kin-connection with the warmth that smolders hotter in his chest than the heat of his arousal and he gives his agreement in every movement of his body, leaving Dean to hold their erections as he wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders and pulls him tight against him.

This time Castiel recognizes the feeling that coils tight in his gut. He knows it’s going to happen before it does, starting at the ends of his fingers and the tip of his tail and burning hot through his veins and his bones before it reaches its intended location. If he kisses Dean through it, or presses his face to his skin, he’s sure that he’s going to bite and Castiel doesn’t want to hurt him. His head drops back, baring his throat and Dean immediately takes advantage, pressing his lips to his pulse point.

The sounds Castiel makes  should be shameful and embarrassing, but he doesn’t mind. He knows Dean enjoys them and he can feel the appreciation for them swelling under the warmth and arousal pulsing through Dean’s mind.  Castiel’s release is accompanied with a wordless cry as that all encompassing white that flares hot under his skin burns through his mind, buzzing over his side-fans and wiping out the world for a few moments. It’s the trembling of Dean’s shoulders under his hands that brings Castiel back,  little lights jumping in front of his eyes as he relaxes against the bed.

Dean slumps over him, a heavy weight against his chest and Castiel is momentarily confused. Why is Dean stopping too if he’s not done yet? He traces his fingers lightly down Dean’s spine, curving his tail up and over his back to hold him as much as he can. When he reaches through the kin-connection to touch his thoughts lightly, he finds Dean’s arousal is fading under a warm, pleased fog.

He drags concern against the haze. (Dean?)

A hum of acknowledgement vibrates against his gills and Dean sits back slowly. (You and your goddamn sounds. Jesus, Cas. I could probably come just listening to you getting off.) His confusion must show on his face too, because Dean just smiles softly and kisses him, his fingers working to remove the condom before Castiel’s penis slides back into his sheath. To his surprise, Dean removes his own condom too, tying them both off and dropping them over the edge of the bed.

Dean stretches out next to him, pressed against Castiel’s side. He throws one leg over Castiel’s tail and his arm with the cast settles over his chest. Castiel tugs one of the blankets up and over Dean to keep him warm and Dean grins against his shoulder, murmuring a quiet thank you.

(You’re not going to sleep, are you?) Castiel turns onto his side and makes sure the blanket is covering all of Dean before he slides his arm around Dean’s waist and presses closer.

(Nah. Just enjoying the afterglow.) Dean grins, but his eyes are closed. (I should probably put on some pants before we get comfortable, though.)

Castiel hisses and curls closer, holding Dean firmly in place. (Your clothes are annoying and useless when around me. You don’t need them.)

He laughs and one of his arms finds its way under Castiel’s head, fingers digging into his hair. (You’re just biased because you’re naked all the time.)

(I have no use for clothing.)

(Not even my sweater?) Dean’s fingers find their way behind his side-fan, stroking firmly in just the right spot that makes Castiel’s eyes slide closed and his a purr rumbles happily in his chest. (Coz’ I think you looked really good in that. And I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.)

(As long as it smells like you then I will concede to wearing it. It’s warm.) He nudges his nose against Dean’s neck, seeking out the heat of his body. (And I like warmth and things that smell like you.)

Dean laughs again, tilting his head to make room. (Really? I never would have guessed.)

Their conversation goes back and forth over little things that they like. For Dean, it’s mostly food. He praises the wonder of a dessert called ‘pie’ and laments that Castiel hasn’t had the chance to try it yet. Castiel is aware of how Dean doesn’t say anything about plans for Castiel to try some. He’s mentioned before about things he’d like to get Castiel to eat, but this time – now that they know they have a time limit together – he’s avoiding it. It makes pain twist through Castiel’s chest and his refrains from saying anything. Especially from saying that he wants to try all of Dean’s favourite foods.

A few times during their conversation, Dean pauses because there are messages from Sam or Meg. Castiel waits patiently, if not a little annoyed, during those moments. He wants to know more about the day after tomorrow, but Dean has shared with him all that he is willing to give on that matter.

It’s twenty minutes before Lilith is supposed to arrive that Dean finally gets up from the bed to get dressed and clean up the room again. He moves Castiel to one of the computer chairs where they both use the spray bottles on his tail and fans. Dean helps Castiel with the chains and the new collar, preceding each with the lines of kisses over his skin.

He’s pulling the table into place when the first knock comes at the door. Castiel breaks the kin-connection before Dean lets the guards in. They set up the chairs and place the silver-shells on the ledge, leaving as quickly as they arrived. Dean lifts Castiel from the computer chair to the ottoman and pushes both chairs into place at the table. Lilith doesn’t come in.

They wait for her for several minutes in silence, and the longer they wait, the more nervous Castiel becomes. Lilith has always been very punctual and he can’t think of any reason why she would be late now. So many ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ storm through his head and Castiel can’t ask Dean anything without the kin-connection. With no idea when Lilith will show up, he won’t risk making the link again until they’re certain she’s gone for the night.

Dean turns his chair so he’s facing Castiel and he sits with his cheek propped on one hand, drumming the table with the fingers of the other. He tries to give Castiel a comforting smile, but Castiel can read the tension in Dean’s shoulders and how his nerves are fraying with every passing minute. Castiel curls the end of his tail around Dean’s ankle again, steadying himself with that one small touch.

Neither of them are actually relieved when Lilith does come in much later than usual. She’s late enough that Castiel suspects the food might have gone cold under the silver-shells. Lilith doesn’t say anything as she sits in her special chair and it’s Alistair who shuts the door before taking his seat too. Neither of them are speaking and Lilith’s expression is hard.

Castiel’s fans and fins ruffle nervously. Is it something that he did? Or that Dean did? Does she know about the escape plan Meg has? Or about the kin-connection? It could be something else entirely that’s upset her and Castiel simply doesn’t know. The worry  settles heavy in his chest and it’s hard to breathe with how hard it squeezes  around his lungs.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?” Dean asks, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms.

He has no idea what Dean said, but Lilith’s eyes grow cold and Alistair only smirks. Castiel tightens his tail in warning, hoping Dean won’t say anything else that will upset her. She already looks unhappy, why would Dean do anything to incite her further?

“If I were you, Winchester, I’d keep your mouth shut and just get the food.” Alistair gestures towards the ledge and Dean glares at him before getting up and serving the bowls of soup under the first silver-shell.

The silence while they eat is more uncomfortable than any previous and Castiel can barely choke down a few spoonfuls of his chicken soup. Dean doesn’t seem to have any issue with eating and he looks at Castiel in confusion when he pushes his bowl away. Castiel shakes his head, glancing toward Lilith in explanation. She’s glaring at them both and her soup is barely touched either.

Dean tilts his head and gestures at her bowl with his spoon. “Not feeling well?”

Castiel’s tail tightens again, barely stopping himself from hissing at Dean to tell him to not speak with her when she clearly doesn’t want to be spoken to. Even Alistair isn’t saying anything, although he does keep looking back and forth between Lilith and Dean, amusement creasing his face unpleasantly.

Lilith glares at Dean for many long, silent moments before she looks at Castiel. He almost flinches at the hard look and he’s not sure if he should meet her eyes or look at the table. Everything that he is cries out to defy her for everything that she’s put him through, but the fear of the pendant hanging around her neck and the pain that it brings him – the pain that he doesn’t want Dean to ever have to see again – is louder than his training.

He looks at his hands and forces himself not to twitch in surprise when she speaks. “Castiel. Sing.”

The command is familiar and surprising. He hesitates, unsure of which song to choose this time. Lilith slams her hand on the table, making the bowls shake and some of her soup and Castiel’s splashes out. Both he and Dean cringe at the sudden noise and Castiel looks up sharply. She looks furious and her other hand is resting over the pendant.

“I said sing!”

Castiel recoils, his tail hitting the tail when he tries to fold it against his chest. He opens his mouth and sings – not caring what song it is as long as he doesn’t get the shock from the pendant again. The song that fills the air is one of the teaching songs sung to the hatchlings. It’s the song of the two-tails and their floating-reefs with the metal-hands. It’s the same song Castiel heard so many seasons ago as he was swimming away from the colony with his nest-brothers on their way to the light-beds.

Dean removes the dishes from the table while Castiel sings, only doing it at Lilith’s direction. She slowly lowers the hand from the pendant while he sings, but her expression is still hard and cold when the song ends. He watches her carefully, hugging the fold of his tail to his chest. Lilith gestures at Dean again and he serves the next course of their meal.

Something is very wrong and there is a tight lump sitting at the base of Castiel’s throat. Swallowing around it almost hurts and there’s no way that he can even think of eating – even if his dinner today is another pile of shelled clams. He pushes the plate away and continues watching Lilith. She does little more than pick at her food. It looks like their dinners are spaghetti and chicken again and Dean is eating his like there’s nothing wrong at the moment. Castiel truly admires his appetite.

If everything is okay and it just turns out that Lilith is in a bad mood, Castiel can eat the fish that are still swimming in small-sea. He’ll lament not eating the clams now, because he does miss having a more varied diet. But he can’t bring himself to touch the fork and his stomach turns at the thought of eating anything.

Alistair eats noisily and earns many disapproving looks from Lilith. Dean cleans off the table again and Lilith doesn’t even need to demand that Castiel sing. All it requires is one look and he immediately starts another of the teaching songs, one that the elders sing to the hatchlings to teach them about the rules of the colony. It’s nothing special and to Castiel it is actually boring, but Dean still stares at him with awe in his eyes.

When the song ends, Lilith leans back in her chair. She taps her fingers on the table and tilts her head as she looks between Castiel and Dean. It’s another long silence before she speaks again. “How long can he be without his mind link before it makes him go crazy?”

Dean looks both surprised and displeased with the question. He glances at Castiel and shrugs. “I have no idea. He never told me. A week, maybe? You’d have to ask him yourself.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

A bit of the colour drains from Dean’s face and Castiel’s stomach twists uncomfortably. “What’s that supposed to mean? You can’t just stop giving him the kin-connection! He needs it!”

“I want to see how long it takes before it starts affecting him. Since I’ll be the only one he’ll be connecting with once we’re home, if I go on vacation I’d like to know how long I can be gone before I’ll be putting him at risk.”

Dean stands, leaning heavily on the table. His voice is rising with every word and Castiel’s confusion and worry increases in time with it. “You can’t just torture him for that! Cas will tell you if you just fucking ask him!”

“It’s not going to kill him and I’m sure I’ll have my answer before we reach Florida.” Lilith looks up at Dean steadily, her expression and her voice never wavering. “Unless there’s another reason why I shouldn’t do this experiment? Do you have an answer to that, Dean?”

He swallows thickly and sits down heavily. Dean’s eyes go dark and his fingers curl into fists on the table. “You know.”

Lilith’s upper lip draws back and she stands quickly, her chair tilting dangerously before it rights itself. Her voice is a quiet, deadly hiss and it makes Castiel’s fans flare. “Of course I know, you lying little shit. I may not know exactly how long you’ve been doing it, but I’m willing to bet that you’ve had the damn link since I gave you back to him. Am I wrong?”

Dean’s lips press into a thin line but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t speak either and Castiel is getting more and more anxious. His fingers twitch where they’re resting over his scales. Lilith is mad at them. She’s mad and that means she’s going to use the pendant and there’s nothing he can do. If he tries to make the kin-connection with her without her permission, Lilith might think that he’s attacking her mind and use the pendant. Either way he’s going to be hurt and Dean is going to see it and there’s nothing he can do. Not when Lilith could have Sam, Jess, Bobby and Pam hurt before Dean could get to them too.

“Alistair.” Lilith gestures at him sharply, never taking her eyes off Dean.

He starts at the command and looks surprised for a moment before he pulls a black tube-like thing from one of his pockets. He holds it out and taps at it with his thumb. A crackling noise fills the silence and there are muffled noises that it takes several moments for Castiel to realize is the sound of kissing. Dean’s face flushes red at the quiet gasps and stifled moans that crackle through what must be a speaker that Alistair is holding.

Castiel stops breathing when Dean’s voice comes from the hand-speaker. His voice is rough, short of breath, and familiar. “Kin-connection, Cas. Make the damn link.”

Alistair taps his thumb again and the room goes quiet as he puts it away. Castiel first breath burns his throat and he stares at Alistair. Was the hand-speaker like Dean’s phone and the videos it can record? Dean said that he and Sam removed all the cameras and recording devices in the room. How could they have gotten a copy of Dean’s voice from that moment?

Worst of all, it means that Lilith knows. She knows that he’s had the kin-connection with Dean against her will. She knows that they’ve been lying to her. Lilith knows and Castiel is terrified. She might hurt Dean and take him away again. And they were so close! There’s only two more days until Meg’s escape plan and now they’ve messed it up and it’s all because Castiel couldn’t keep himself from making the kin-connection with Dean.

Dean’s lips are twitching and Castiel isn’t sure if he’s scared or angry. “How did you get that?”

“How do you think?” Lilith continues to speak in low hisses that send Castiel’s adipose fins rippling.

She reaches toward Castiel and he jerks away on reflex, nearly tipping right off of the ottoman if it isn’t for Dean’s quick hand on his shoulder. Lilith narrows her eyes at him and Castiel doesn’t move when she stretches her hand again. Her fingers brush the side of his neck before she tugs him forward by the collar until the edge of the table is pressed uncomfortably under his ribs.

“You put a transmitter in the collar?” Dean’s voice sounds stunned and his eyes are wide when Castiel glances at him. “But if he’d gone in the tank that would have –”

“It’s got a waterproof casing, you idiot. We wouldn’t have gotten anything while he was underwater, but that wasn’t what we were hoping to hear.” Alistair leans back in his chair and Castiel hates how smug he looks. He hates the dart-gun he pulls from inside his coat even more, especially when he aims it at Dean. “If you’re thinking of trying anything, don’t bother.”

Lilith jerks back on the collar, forcing Castiel to lean dangerously to one side. He isn’t sitting on the ottoman properly for this position and he slips from it with a crash, sending the ottoman toppling aside. The collar pulls tightly around his throat, rubbing harshly against his gills and Castiel struggles for his next breath. He scrabbles at her hand and the collar, his weight pulling against the collar and he can’t breathe.

She lets go and Castiel manages to gasp once before her foot connects with his shoulder. It’s not a painful kick, but it sends him falling back into the ledge and pain flares sharply at the back of his head where it connects with the hard edge. Lights dance in front of his eyes and the sudden burst of sound in the room makes his head hurt worse.

When he manages to blink the bouncing lights away, Castiel finds himself on his side. He pushes up slowly and looks around. The first concern that pushes it’s way to the forefront of his mind through the aching cloud filling his head is about Dean. Is he okay? Did he do something when Lilith threw Castiel down? He thinks – judging by what looks like the table and chairs overturned on the floor – that Dean did do something.

“Dean?” Castiel sits up further, ignoring how his vision swims and the movement only makes his head hurt even more. “Dean okay?”

There are figures on the ground between Castiel and small-sea, but everything is so blurry. He squints and blinks and he realizes all he can hear is a ringing sound. It’s clearing up slowly, just like his vision, and Castiel can pick out grunts and shuffling. He can smell blood in the air, but it doesn’t smell like Dean’s. The figures solidify and Castiel is confused again, not sure if he’s seeing right.

Alistair is laying along small-sea, his nose is bloody again and he looks like he’s unconscious. Dean is kneeling over Lilith. There are red lines on his cheek and blood on Lilith’s chin. She has one hand pushing up under Dean’s jaw and he’s holding her wrist. Her other hand is firmly holding what must be the pendant, but Dean’s fingers are wrapped around hers. Castiel doesn’t know how the inner circle isn’t being pressed, but he’s happy it’s not.

“Cas, you okay?” Dean grunts, pulling Lilith’s hand away and slamming it down to the floor.

“Head hurt.” Castiel touches the sore spot at the back of his head, hissing at the sting.

Dean growls and leans further over Lilith. “Let the remote go, leave it with me, and you’ll walk out of here without another scratch. But if you hurt Cas with that fucking thing again, you won’t be walking out of here, period.”

Lilith looks uncertain before her upper lip curls. For a moment, she goes loose and limp under Dean, as if she’s given up and Castiel feels hope when the pendant falls from their combined grip to rest untouched on her chest. But Lilith’s sneer turns into a wide grin and she tilts his her head back. Castiel winces at the scream Dean doesn’t manage to silence before the guards burst through the door. There are more than Castiel knows should be there and he realizes, belatedly, that Lilith was prepared for this outcome.

Castiel snarls, his head spinning as he tries to drag himself between Dean in the guards. He can’t tell if the weapons they have are dart-guns or the deadly-guns, but he doesn’t want them anywhere near Dean. He knocks the legs out from under one of the guards with a well aimed swipe of his tail, but the others are well out of reach and they drag Dean off of Lilith.

Dean is kicking and shouting curse words at everyone. Every time he manages to pull one of his arms free, he gets at least one good punch in on the guards before they pin him again. One of them raises their weapon to point it at Dean and it doesn’t stop him from struggling. Castiel feels only a little relief. If Dean doesn’t submit to the weapon, then it must be a dart-gun and not a real one.

A few of the guards point their weapons at Castiel too and he hisses, flaring his fans and baring his teeth. They are between him and Dean now. He is so slow outside of the water and he doesn’t know what to do. There’s so many of them and he has no claws or weapons. All he has is his fangs and if they don’t get close enough he’ll never be able to hurt them.

Lilith steps closer to Dean and says something too softly for Castiel to hear. Dean goes very still. He’s red faced, panting, and staring at Lilith with wide eyes. His expression is one Castiel has seen many times before on others, but rarely on Dean’s face. Castiel snarls again, his tail lashing across the floor and knocking the overturned ottoman and one of the chairs aside.

“No! Lilith, don’t!” Dean shouts, panic making his voice tremble.

Castiel glances away from the guards. Lilith has her hand on the pendant again and for one horrible moment Castiel sees her cruel smile, the blood on her lips making them more red than he’s ever seen. He meets Dean’s eyes and they’re full of concern and fear. It makes Castiel’s breath catch in his throat and his chest tightens painfully.

It’s nothing compared to the pain that sears through his head, through his mind and body and everywhere when Lilith presses on the pendant. The pain spreads through his bones and into his lungs, stealing what little breath he has left. It takes his vision, his hearing, and all the control he has over himself. Castiel can’t even hear the ringing of his voice in the air as his throat works around a scream.

Lilith holds the pendant so long that the pain is all Castiel knows until the darkness takes him again.