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Born on Wings of Steel	By : LotusMoon Category: Supernatural > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4689 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, nor do I profit from it.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
When Dean rolled over onto his knees and elbows on the bed, Castiel stopped lubricating his penis. Up to this point, he had followed Dean’s lead in their sexual activities, except when he had become self-destructive. Even then, Dean had quickly regrouped and resumed the lead. Now he obviously expected him to take control. Castiel quickly reviewed what they had done so far, the fingers of his left hand touching his split lip. Tonight, he had learned how much Dean had been holding back. Previously, he had only seen a fraction of Dean’s passion. Unfortunately, Dean seemed to equate deep passion with pain and violence.
Castiel wondered if he could alter that association, and give Dean passionate pleasure. Resolved, he knelt between Dean’s spread knees. Once again, he was struck by the beauty of Dean’s body. Reaching down with his clean hand, he touched Dean’s shoulder, tracing up the slanted back to the narrow waist. His thumb brushed over one of the dimples at the small of his back before he cupped a round, firm cheek. He spread Dean and slid a slicked middle finger inside, the sphincter briefly tensing, then relaxing. He twisted his finger, pushing on the walls, and Dean’s muscles contracted.
“Ah,” Dean cried out in surprise.
Castiel had obviously found what he had been looking for. He rubbed the walnut-sized bump, remembering the pleasant effect it had on him when Dean had done the same to his prostate. Dean arched his back, making sounds in the back of his throat that Castiel was finding very stimulating. Suddenly, his need to be inside Dean was overwhelming. Removing the finger, he lined up the head of his penis and pushed forward. There was a moment of resistance, then he was past the initial tight ring of muscle. The sight of his penis going inside Dean’s body was unexpectedly exciting, and he pushed in as slowly as possible to make it last. Finally, he was all the way in, pelvis pressed flat against Dean’s buttocks, their balls brushing.
The hot, tight passage squeezing the length of his penis felt incredibly good. Castiel held still a moment to savor it, then he pulled out and slowly pushed back in, intently watching himself move in and out of Dean.
“Cas,” Dean said, looking back at him over his shoulder.
Castiel stopped.
“I’m not going to break,” Dean said. “You can go faster.”
Remembering the expression Dean had used earlier, Castiel raised his eyebrows.
“I am driving now, Dean,” Castiel responded.
Dean pursed his lips, but dropped his head back down between his shoulder blades without saying anything more. Gripping Dean’s hips to keep him from moving, Castiel changed the angle when he went in, aiming for the prostate.
“Nnh!” Dean’s grunt confirmed he’d hit the target.
Methodically, he hit the prostate on every entry, gradually thrusting harder and faster until the room was filled with the sound of their grunts and slapping flesh. Castiel released his grip on Dean’s hips and he started pushing back into Castiel’s thrusts, making him go even deeper. Their bodies effortlessly fell into the same rhythm and pace. Castiel stroked Dean’s back and hips as they moved together, reveling in the seamless synchronicity. So often his physical interactions were couched in awkwardness, and it required effort to connect with people, even Dean, with whom he was most comfortable. Walking among humans was isolating.
For the first time since he left his garrison, Castiel felt truly connected to another being.
“Cas,” Dean’s voice was husky. “Please.”
At first, Castiel was uncertain what Dean was asking of him, then he saw Dean’s hand moving back. Reaching down, Castiel firmly grasped Dean’s erection and started pumping in time to their movement.
“Oh yeah,” Dean groaned. “I’m so close, Cas.”
Bracing himself on the bed with his other arm, Castiel leaned forward over Dean’s back, feeling the heat rising from the flushed, sweaty flesh. He was close as well. He pressed his forehead to the back of Dean’s shoulder.
“Nnh!” Dean cried out, hips locking.
Dean’s penis pulsed in Castiel’s hand as he came, his body tightening around Castiel’s own member. That final squeezing embrace pushed Castiel over the edge, and a tidal wave of pleasure rushed over him. The orgasm was far more intense coming inside Dean, and when it passed, Castiel’s muscles felt weak and shaky from the hard release.
Not wishing to collapse on top of Dean, Castiel fell to the side, taking Dean with him, bodies pressed together. He flattened his hand against Dean’s chest, feeling the strong, rapid beat, and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness overtook him. He wanted with all his being to protect the man he now held in his arms, by human standards a strong man, but by Castiel’s experience, entirely too fragile.
“Dean,” Castiel whispered.
“Hmm?” Dean cocked an arm back to rest on Castiel’s hip.
“I do not want you to go back to that kind of place again,” Castiel said firmly.
“What place? Oh, you mean gay pick up bars?” Dean yawned, his hand absently stroking Castiel’s hip. “Okay.”
“I am serious, Dean,” Castiel insisted, tightening his grip around Dean’s chest. “You are not to hurt yourself that way anymore.”
“I said okay, Mom,” Dean groused. “Enough with the noise.”
“And-” Castiel stopped.
There was another promise he wished to extract from Dean, but he did not believe he had the right to ask it.
“Yeah?” Dean prompted.
“I am sticky,” Castiel said the first thing that came into his head.
Dean laughed. “That makes two of us, pal.”
Patting Castiel’s hip, Dean rolled forward a little, extricating himself, and Castiel felt a small pang of loss as he slipped out. Sitting up, Dean turned and looked down at him.
“Not for nothing, Cas,” he said, “but that was pretty amazing.”
Bending down, Dean kissed Castiel on the mouth.
“Share a shower?” he asked.
“Yes,” Castiel responded.
Sitting up, he watched Dean climb off the bed and stretch out his torso, pushing clasped hands up over his head. Without looking back, Dean padded into the bathroom, and shortly there was the squeak of pipes and the sound of running water. He thought about the other promise he had almost asked, but held back. In the aftermath of the powerful feeling of protectiveness there had also been a sense of possessiveness. When he had hidden himself from human sight and followed Dean into the bar, into the back room, he had felt the possessiveness then as well. Only, it had also made him angry, which he did not fully understand. He only knew that he did not want that man, or any other man, to touch Dean.
“Do not allow anyone else to hold you,” Castiel said quietly.
“Coming, Cas?” Dean called out.
“Yes,” Castiel responded.
Rising, he went to where Dean was waiting for him.
Castiel walked into the tiny bathroom and was enveloped in steam. Dean was holding the shower curtain open, so he stepped inside the bathtub, Dean pulling the curtain closed behind him. Ducking his head under the spray, Dean let the water run over him, then took the bar of soap and washcloth, moving aside. With nowhere else to go, Castiel stepped under the shower head. Hot water hit his neck and shoulders, making the skin tingle and loosening muscles he didn’t know were tight; it was bliss. Through half-closed eyes, he watched Dean lather the soap inside the washcloth, then scrub the soapy cloth over his body.
“Here, switch,” Dean said, holding out the bar of soap.
Castiel grasped the slippery bar, which popped up out of his hand and fell to the bottom of the tub with a clunk. As Dean moved around him back under the water, Castiel bent down to pick up the soap bar. Dean swatted him on the rear end with the washcloth, and Castiel straightened, surprised.
“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to pick up the soap when you’re in a shower with another man?” Dean asked with a smirk.
“Why?”
Castiel took the rinsed washcloth from Dean and lathered it up.
“Because he might decide to play hide the sausage with you,” Dean said.
Castiel frowned, unsure of the reference, and slightly distracted by the very pleasant feeling of the soapy washcloth moving over his skin. From Dean’s tone, he gathered the reference was sexual, and it was a small leap to understand what a sausage might represent and where it might be ‘hidden’.
“Do you want to hide your sausage in me, Dean?” Castiel asked.
Dean burst out laughing, holding himself up with a hand on the wall. Straightening, he grinned at him, continuing to rinse off.
“Cas, you’re too much,” he said with a chuckle.
Stepping closer, Castiel reached past Dean to put away the soap and washcloth. Their chests brushed as they switched places again, and Castiel liked the feel of soapy, wet skin. He grabbed Dean around the waist and pulled their bodies together to feel more of it. Dean willingly pressed against him, giving him an easy smile before bending down and kissing him.
“What if I want you inside me?” Castiel asked.
“Man, you’re like a horny Energizer bunny.” Dean laughed. “Right now, I’d have to say it’s been a full day and I’ve got a long drive tomorrow.”
Leaning in, Dean nuzzled Castiel’s neck, hand sliding down to squeeze his bottom.
“But next time,” he whispered, voice dropping into the low, husky register that Castiel’s body seemed to instantly respond to. “You can have whatever you want, babe.”
Tracing up Castiel’s jaw line with his lips, Dean kissed him, sliding inside. Their tongues rolled together, water trickling into their open mouths as the shower sprayed down on them. Castiel enjoyed the intimacy of being inside each other, touching, tasting, feeling. After a few moments, Dean ended the kiss, pulling back slightly.
“We should get out before we lose the hot water,” he murmured.
Using his cupped hands, Dean sloughed water over the soapy parts of their bodies, then turned off the faucet. Pushing the curtain open, he reached out and snagged two towels off the rack, handing one to Castiel. Drying off, they stepped out of the tub. Castiel imitated Dean by wrapping the towel around his waist and followed him out of the bathroom. Dean squatted next to his duffel bag.
“I’m down to my last pair of boxers and sweats,” he said. “So one of us is going commando. That is...” He paused, glancing up at Castiel. “If you’re staying another night.”
“I am,” Castiel confirmed.
He knew he should not linger. He knew he was placing his own selfish desires before duty, but when Dean smiled at him, the lapse seemed justified. He caught the sweats Dean tossed at him and put them on as Dean slung the towel over his shoulder and stepped into the boxers. Standing side-by-side, they surveyed the damage to the bed: twisted sheets stained with gel and various body fluids, including a few drops of blood.
“Okay. Switching beds,” Dean announced.
He retrieved the knife and slid it under the pillow on the side of the bed closest to the door. Pulling back the covers, Castiel sat down on the other side.
“Whoa.” Dean stopped him.
Castiel froze, unsure if he had violated some kind of protocol. Dean walked around to stand in front of him, pulling the towel off his shoulder.
“You can’t go to bed with wet hair,” Dean said. “You’ll catch a cold.”
Castiel opened his mouth to remind Dean that he was incapable of catching a human illness, but when Dean started rubbing his head with the towel, it felt good, so he remained silent.
“There.”
Satisfied, Dean tossed the towel on the floor and dove over Castiel onto the mattress, making the bed bounce with an alarmingly loud creak. Unconcerned, Dean slid under the covers, and when it was apparent the bed was not going to collapse, Castiel did as well.
“Oh, Cas,” Dean said over his shoulder. “Grab the light, will you?”
Turning his head, Castiel focused on the lamp a moment, and it turned off.
“Thanks, Criss,” Dean said, rolling onto his side and facing the door.
“Why do you keep calling me that?” Castiel asked, but Dean’s only answer was a laugh that morphed into a yawn.
Unsure if the personal space rules applied during sleeping, Castiel moved as close to Dean as he could without actually touching him, hand hovering over the dipped waist exposed above the top of the sheet. Deciding against it, he started to withdraw the hand and roll over onto his back, but Dean grabbed his hand and pulled his arm all the way across his waist, scooting backward to close the gap between their bodies. Castiel was amazed at how perfectly they fitted together, chest to back, buttocks to groin, knees bent at the same angle.
“Just don’t grab my dick or anything,” Dean murmured sleepily. “I seriously gotta sleep.”
“I understand, Dean,” Castiel whispered.
Lightly, he pressed his nose to the back of Dean’s neck, inhaling deeply: soap and Dean. Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, imagining what it would be like to fall asleep like this, and then to wake up and have the first thing you see in the world be the person you had laid down with the night before. He wondered, if he were capable of it, what he might dream. He opened his eyes. Dean had already fallen asleep.
A shadow passed over their bodies as a man walked between the parking lot light and the window. Castiel’s eyes moved to the front door. Because he had transported them directly inside the room, the interior latch was open. The doorknob rattled, and Castiel was at the door in a flash. Opening the door himself, he reached through and grabbed the man by the front of his shirt and the hand holding the rifle, slamming him against the wall. He squeezed, feeling finger bones break, and the man cried out, rifle dropping to the carpet with a dull thud. Releasing the broken hand, Castiel raised his fingertips to touch the man’s forehead.

Dean snapped awake. Snatching the knife under the pillow, he rolled out of bed into a fighting crouch before it fully registered what had woken him up. Standing in his sweatpants, Cas had Akselrod pinned against the wall, a rifle on the floor between them. When Cas reached up to touch Akselrod’s face, Dean stepped forward.
“Cas,” he said, laying a hand on Castiel’s raised arm.
Cas stopped moving, but didn’t lower the arm.
“He was going to shoot you,” Cas said, voice tight with anger.
Dean felt the rigidity in Cas’ muscles, saw the hardness in his face, and realized he’d been about to kill Akselrod.
“Easy, Cas,” Dean said softly. “He’s not evil, he’s just a moron.”
Giving up on pulling the arm down, Dean laid his hand flat on the small of Cas’ bare back. The unexpected touch made Cas finally look at him, and the arm lowered. Satisfied Cas wasn’t going to zap Akselrod’s brains out, Dean peeked out at the empty parking lot and shut the door. Retrieving the rifle, he showed Cas the safety was still on before tossing it onto the bed. Cas released Akselrod, who crumpled against the wall cradling a hand that was obviously broken. When Akselrod looked up at Dean, his face was streaked with tears.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Akselrod’s voice came out unnaturally high, cracking on the last word. “You’ve murdered a rare and beautiful creature.”
Some of the guilt from earlier returned, but Dean pushed it down.
“Listen, Ranger Dick,” Dean said. “I did my job. You’re the asshat who brought it here and let it kill innocent people.”
Bending down so he was eye level with Akselrod, Dean poked him hard in the chest with a forefinger.
“If I ever catch you doing shit like this again,” Dean growled. “Not even Texas will be big enough to hide from me. Got it?”
Akselrod stared at him a moment, then jerked his chin up and down once. Stepping back, Dean gestured at the door, and Akselrod bolted like a rabbit. Shutting and locking the door behind the fleeing man, Dean walked over to the window and parted the curtain in time to see Akselrod get into a pick-up truck and lay a trail of rubber out of the parking lot. He debated a moment on whether to find another place to crash for the rest of the night, but decided to stay. He was beat. Crazy was hard to predict, but he didn’t think Akselrod had the cojones to come back and try to kill him. Letting the curtain fall, he turned and found himself inches from Cas. He wondered what had flipped the Terminator switch in Cas’ head. He was pretty sure if he hadn’t intervened, he’d be looking for a good spot to hide a body.
“You should not have let him go, Dean” Castiel said. “He wanted to kill you.”
“That puts him on a pretty long list, Cas,” Dean replied.
He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He was so tired he could barely see straight, and he definitely didn’t have the energy for an argument.
“I’m going to bed,” he announced.
Moving past Cas, he slid the knife back under the pillow and lay down on his back, closing his eyes. For a moment, he thought Cas might actually just stand there all night giving him the stink eye, but he walked around and got into bed. Dean sighed. Cas was radiating anger, and he had learned it was never a good idea to go to bed with anyone angry. He just didn’t understand what bee had flown up Cas’ skirt.
Dean was sure he had woken up fairly fast, before Akselrod could’ve done much of anything to Cas, or that is, try to do anything. Cas was never in any danger at all. Dean frowned. Cas had kept repeating what Akselrod had wanted to do to Dean. He flashed back on Cas’ angry face when he jerked Dean up off his knees in the bar back room.

Dean looked over at Cas’ profile. He thought Cas had been upset at the “sinning”, but had he actually been... jealous? And just now, was he being protective? Dean gave himself a mental slap. In a lot of ways, Cas was like a child. He didn’t know what to do with new or strong emotions, so they transmuted into confusion or anger. Rolling onto his side facing Cas, Dean touched his waist.
“Roll over,” he said.
Cas glanced at him, but shifted onto his side, and Dean spooned up behind him. Almost immediately, most of the tension left Cas’ body. Dean nuzzled the back of his neck and kissed him behind the ear, stroking his waist and hip, and Cas completely relaxed in his arms. Dean wasn’t good at talking about touchy-feelie crap, but he knew how to communicate physically.
“You’ve saved me in every way a man can be saved,” Dean murmured.
With a breathy chuckle, he lightly ran his hand over the front of Cas’ sweatpants.
“And I’ve made you fall in every way an angel can fall,” he joked.
“Dean-”
Cas started to turn in his arms, but Dean stopped him by tightening his arm around his waist.
“Shh,” he interrupted. “I’m sleeping.”
“If you are asleep,” Cas said, “how can you be speaking?”
Dean responded with loud snoring sounds.
“Dean?”
He kept up the fake snoring until he drifted off into actual sleep.

“See the words appear on the wall

There for every man who's standing tall

This water's pure, the well is so deep

The only treasure that a man can keep”

Rolling onto his back, Dean reached out and slapped off the radio alarm. He glanced over, but Cas was gone. Sitting up, Dean scrubbed his face with his hands and threw back the covers. When he stood up, there were some twinges in his lower back and thighs and his ass was sore, but the aches made him smile. It was way better to wake up sore from sex than injuries from a hunt.

Then Dean spotted the plate of pancakes and glass of OJ on the table, and his smile widened into a grin.

“Miles to go, and I feel the weight

Of these chains that I create

As I climb to the top of the hill

It draws me still

And I can't look back”

Akselrod was packing some of his smaller treasures from his office in boxes when Castiel appeared in front of him.

“How did you get in?” he demanded.

Not bothering to reply, Castiel reached out and touched the man’s forehead. A twist of energy flashed under his palm as Castiel released his soul, and the dead body collapsed at his feet.

With a soft sound of fluttering wings, Castiel disappeared.

“The heart keeps on burning

Oh, wheels, wheels, don't slow down

My soul keeps on yearning

Oh, wheels, wheels, roll me homeward bound”

Tossing in Akselrod’s rifle, Dean shut the Impala’s trunk and walked around to the driver’s side, ducking in and shutting the door with his left hand while he hit speed dial on his cell with his right.

“Hey,” he said when the call went through. “I’m hitting the road now. See you in about eighteen hours.”

“Be careful,” Bobby said.

Snapping the phone shut, Dean slid it into his pocket and pulled out of the hotel parking lot.

“I'm looking through the eyes of a child

Like the innocent and unbeguiled

From the east, and far to the west

Soldiers conquer in a royal quest”

Reaching out, Castiel pressed his right palm flat against the cool limestone, kvitelach, prayers written on small pieces of paper, fluttering in the cracks around the large brick. Beside him, a bearded man dressed in black rocked slightly as he muttered the kadish. People believed praying here was like speaking directly into the ear of God. Tilting his head back, Castiel looked up at the top of the Wailing Wall as dawn softened the dark sky from purple to blue.

“Please,” he whispered.

Castiel listened, but all he heard was the muted voices of the faithful around him, the rustling of paper prayers, and the desert wind blowing sand through the cracks of a destroyed temple.

"One by one, as the seasons change

I press on in a world so strange

As I climb to the top of the hill

It draws me still

And I won't look back"

NOTE: The song lyrics are from ”Icarus” and “Wheels” by Kansas.
- 6
- 7
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Born on Wings of Steel