Fifty First Dates

Chapter 25

Castiel felt awful for pressing Dean past the point he could tolerate. As a result, he found himself kissing the hunter’s face over and over, trying to claw back the happy feeling they had shared at reuniting. Dean didn’t tell him to back off, or thank him, or even say anything. He laid there, letting Castiel kiss him repetitively, and the only indication that this was okay was the fact he was relaxing against the ex-angel, sinking into his arms. He tilted his chin up slightly, making it easier for Castiel to reach across his cheeks, his lips, the tip of his nose …

Castiel found himself apologising once again, trying to garner more understanding between them. If he just explained himself to Dean, then Dean could remind him where he had gone wrong and they could find their way back again. Castiel wasn’t ready to let their relationship falter, to miss out on the touch he still needed from his lover.

‘Dean, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to start another argument. I’ve missed you so much, and I guess I was so happy that you actually wanted me back that I didn’t even think-‘

Dean cut him off by leaning up, and pressing his mouth firmly against the angels. And Castiel was surprised, but grateful, glad that his explanations seemed to be having the desired effect. So they still had work to do to get their relationship back on track, that was fine. It meant that there was definitely a relationship there. Castiel hoped it meant that they would be stronger than ever. They had so much time to catch up on, so much left to say to each other, and it was hard to restrain himself.

‘Did I really lose three weeks of this?’

He could feel Dean’s breath caressing his face, and he knew this might be a sore subject. He hadn’t reacted too well to that other world when he’d walked in, after all. Castiel assumed that he wanted to forget about it, put it behind them.

‘Yuh-huh.’

‘But that doesn’t make any sense, I was only gone-‘

‘Cas, stop talking.’ Dean’s voice carried a groan, and he began kissing Castiel as he had when he invaded Castiel’s head, and saved him from himself, his lips pressing down roughly on Castiel’s mouth, tongue invading the space, licking along the roof of his mouth, filling Castiel up completely. The ex-angel understood that this was the way to get Dean to return to their previous amorous connection, to talk around their feelings, because Dean would want to do anything but. As soon as Dean took a much needed breath, Castiel sucked in some air quickly and carried on babbling, wondering what he could push Dean to next.

‘I’m just so happy we’re back together. I still can’t believe you said you love me.’

That was true, it still hadn’t sunk into Castiel’s psyche, that Dean could feel something as strong as love. That he could feel that way and admit to it. Castiel wasn’t altogether sure he wasn’t still dreaming.

‘Do I have to make you stop talking?’ Dean trailed along Castiel’s nose with his own. Castiel felt a thrill of excitement in his stomach. It was working. He was dying to ask how Dean could possibly stop him talking, but he would rather the hunter showed him. He continued babbling.

‘I mean, I’ve hoped you would, so many times, and you never did, and now-‘

Dean began to move, pushing Castiel flat on his back on the bed, straddling him as he grabbed at Castiel’s shirt, roughly pulling it up from the hem and over Castiel’s head. He didn’t seem to notice that the ex-angel was helping, wriggling his arms out of the sleeves, lifting his head to allow the shirt to slide off fully. Then Dean was shoving the sweatshirt into Castiel’s mouth, which did take him by surprise. He wanted Dean in his mouth.

He attempted to take the shirt out, and Dean clamped a hand over the material in his mouth.

‘Don’t make me get the handcuffs.’

Castiel looked at Dean, trying to smirk around the shirt. Did the hunter really not realise who was in charge here? Did he think the handcuffs were a deterrent? They were a sign that Dean wanted what Castiel did right then. He deliberately reached for the shirt, intent on pulling it out just a little, but before he could even get hold of the material, Dean was snatching his wrists together, and rummaging in the tiny side table for the handcuffs. Castiel debated continuing to talk through the shirt, but decided to wait and see what would happen first.

Dean pushed him up the bed, closer to the headboard, oblivious to Castiel scooting along the sheets, making it easier for him. He didn’t notice that Castiel laid back against the pillows without encouragement. He missed the fact that Castiel didn’t resist his arms being raised, that the ex-angel was watching him intently, wondering what would happen when Dean was completely in charge. His entire being was tingling in anticipation. He was hoping Dean would turn his body into putty, and would be as rough as he just was with that kiss.

‘Can you breathe?’ Dean sounded hoarse. Castiel nodded, still playing the game, even if Dean wasn’t aware that there was a game to play. ‘Okay … okay … do you trust me, Cas?’

It was the most ridiculous question Dean could have asked. Because of course Castiel trusted him, was aching for Dean to start manipulating his body. He didn’t think Dean would take advantage of him. How could he, when Castiel had never been pushed to a limit with him? It was always Dean who was withdrawing, not him. There were still so many things that Castiel had purchased in Amsterdam that they had never even tried …

‘I’m not going to do anything weird, okay Cas?’

Cas couldn’t resist vocalising, through the cotton in his mouth, his thoughts on that. Of course Dean wasn’t going to do anything weird. Dean was safe. He was shaking his head at Castiel, a smile playing on his lips.

‘Nope, no talking. Just nod and shake your head, okay?’

Castiel nodded dutifully.

‘Good. Do you want me to suck your dick?’

Castiel frowned as he nodded. Dean definitely lacked imagination. Although the idea of Dean’s tongue lapping at him, putting as much of Castiel’s penis in his mouth as he physically could … it may have lacked imagination, but it was still going to be enjoyable. Dean continued in his usual blunt manner.

‘Want me to fuck you afterwards?’

Castiel nodded, but knew that would be it. Maybe Dean was too sexually charged to linger the way he might normally?

‘I don’t wanna do anything you don’t want me to do, Cas. Are you sure its fine?’

Castiel didn’t understand why Dean was asking. Of course it was fine, more than fine. It was necessary. Unless Dean was stalling out of nerves? The hunter reached out and rubbed his thumb and index finger along Castiel’s eyebrows.

‘It’s going to be okay, Cas,’ Dean mumbled as he began kissing Castiel’s neck again, completely unaware that Castiel knew it was going to be okay. He must have been trying to reassure himself, because he didn’t seem to notice Castiel arching his neck, his eyelids fluttering in satisfaction as Dean’s soft lips massaged his neck, his tongue twirling across Castiel’s skin, his teeth kneading a spot that shot a burning heat through the ex-angel. And then Dean was rolling his body as he worked his way down Castiel’s torso, and Castiel’s body was responding, seeking him out, trying to fan the fire inside him.

Dean’s hands slid down his body, and Castiel raised his hips, trying to encourage him to grab at them, to ease his pants off too. Dean missed the signal, as he was now concentrating on Castiel’s nipple, his teeth running over the nub as Castiel moaned with desire, knowing that Dean might do something more risqué if he made a noise. But all the hunter did was to suck on his nipple. Castiel began to feel frustrated, needing something more, and he tried to grab at Dean’s head, to make him do something else. The handcuffs barely allowed him to move an inch.

The clink of the handcuffs against the bedframe did have an effect on Dean at least, because he continued his path down Castiel’s body, his fingers sliding inside the elastic waistband and sliding the pyjama pants down agonisingly slowly. Castiel’s body had taken on a life of its own, bucking up like crazy, demanding Dean’s attention.

And then Dean was backing away, not touching him at all, and Castiel’s hips demanded him some more, his entire system going crazy without the attention. What was Dean up to? Castiel moaned in frustration as he managed to control his hips, and glared down at Dean, who smiled back lazily.

‘I told you before, Cas, all in good time.’

Castiel tried to tell him that “all in good time” wasn’t going to work right then, but Dean raised himself up, leaning on his straightened arms over Castiel so no part of them was touching, and his lazy grin turned playful.

‘Uh-uh, no talking. Like that time in the Impala. I’ll have to think of some kind of punishment if you keep trying to talk.’

Castiel shivered in anticipation. He wanted Dean’s touch, but he had the distinct feeling that Dean’s idea of punishment was to stop their relations.

When he failed to make another sound, Dean lowered himself again, slipping down and pressing his mouth against Castiel’s inner thigh, high up near his groin. Castiel closed his eyes and fought the urge to groan again, unsure if that kind of noise constituted talking. It had been when he’d given Dean oral sex in the Impala, with Sam on the back seat. His kisses right now were so good, Castiel knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He hated himself for that fact, he’d wanted to fall into bed with Dean and lose track of time, they were so invested in each other, and he was going to ruin that with his poor control over his vessel.

Dean seemed to know instinctively that Castiel was losing the fight, because he stopped teasing, and started licking around Castiel’s testicles, along his shaft, and sealing his mouth around Castiel’s head before he’d had time to process the move. His tongue was swirling constantly as his lips traced their way down, and Castiel’s body took on a life of its own again, bucking up into the hunter’s mouth demandingly. He stopped resisting the urge to grunt, and groan, and vocalise just how pleasurable it was to have Dean worship his body like this once again.

It still wasn’t enough, he wanted more. He tried to move his hands again, feeling frustrated when the cuffs barely gave. He didn’t know what the use of his hands would achieve, but he wanted something, a form of release, anything. Dean was agonising in his approach to this, even as he clasped at Castiel’s backside and used it as leverage, thrusting another inch of Castiel’s penis into his throat.

And then Castiel felt all the tension leaving him, in a hot gush of semen that threw itself straight down Dean’s throat. His body relaxed, sinking into the mattress, and he felt a flush of contentment. He could hear Dean gagging slightly, feel something trickling along the still-sensitive skin of his phallus, but it all seemed at a distance. His ears were full of cotton wall, his bones felt as though they had left his body, and yet Dean was still moving, his mouth easing off Castiel with a slight pop, his head coming to a rest on the ex-angel’s prominent hip bone, and his fingers sliding along Castiel’s moist penis, then down, over his testes, towards his anus …

He didn’t have it in him to resist, or to work with Dean. His body was made of jello, and yielded easily to Dean as he inserted his fingers, sliding them in and out effortlessly, trying to widen the hole and make it easier to access Castiel’s body. Castiel lay there, ripples of his orgasm still surging through his system, aware that Dean was shifting again, moving back up his body, getting ready for the next part that he’d promised.

Castiel watched him as he crawled back up, his gaze tracing the contours of Castiel’s body, one hand guiding his own penis into Castiel. And then his focus changed, and Castiel found himself staring into those eyes he loved so much. Dean gazed back, clearly startled by whatever he was reading in Castiel’s expression. And yet there was a tenderness there too, as though Dean were acquiescing to something he had unknowingly asked for.

The rhythm changed, and Dean was agonisingly slow with each thrust, his eyes locked onto Castiel’s. It was as though his boyfriend was telling him something important, something he needed to hold on to, but Castiel wasn’t sure what it was. All he could really tell was that this kind of sex was rare, especially for Dean. It was full of the one thing Castiel wanted above all from their relationship, that level of intimacy that transcended words. For the first time in a while, it was like they were truly listening to each other. Castiel was dying to reach a hand up and cup Dean’s cheek, to reassure him of whatever it was that gave his lover’s tender gaze a haunted tint. He knew not to speak, not to chase Dean off, but to treasure him and keep this memory locked tight. This was special, whatever it was.

The moment broke only when Dean came, when he nearly collapsed onto Castiel’s prone form and used all of his energy to prop himself up by his elbows, his head tucked in as he suppressed a groan of his own. When the moment had gone, when he’d finally ridden out his own orgasm, he curled into Castiel’s chest, kissing him around his chest, his fingers swirling patterns onto Castiel’s sides.

The ex-angel had no words for what had just happened, but he knew that Dean would be feeling particularly vulnerable, and therefore unresponsive to any suggestion of their intensity. So as much as he may want to discuss what had happened, what had changed during this particular session of intercourse, he knew better than to do so. He decided to follow Dean’s lead, as much as he could.

It took forever for Dean to pull himself out of Castiel, to crawl up the bed a little and start freeing him from the bonds. Dean concentrated on the handcuffs, on working them so they released, and Castiel watched his face the entire time.

Dean started massaging Castiel’s wrists, his fingers firm but gentle, the rough skin of the pads of his thumbs warming the ex-angel’s skin. Castiel lowered his hand and pulled the shirt from his mouth, tossing it carelessly to one side and sliding his hand around Dean’s neck, pulling him closer for a kiss, this one soft, managing to linger and be quick at the same time.

And then Dean was curling up on his chest once more, their arms around each other, listening to the sound of their breathing. Castiel could feel Dean’s heart, thudding through his chest and creating a rhythm against his stomach, fast but steady, matching his own. Their legs were once again tangled together, and Dean was rubbing circles into Castiel’s rib cage.

Eventually, Castiel’s impatience got the better of him, and he couldn’t help but talk. He managed to force himself not to give a name to anything, in case it ruined the peace between them.

‘It was never like this,’ Castiel hoped Dean understood what he was referring to. Even when they had understood each other perfectly, they hadn’t felt so connected. And in retrospect, Castiel knew that the entire time they had been dating, they hadn’t managed to comprehend each other as well as they had during their making up sex session. He tried to fight the sense of guilt that realisation caused, because Dean wouldn’t appreciate that either.. ‘I know that’s my fault.’

Dean’s fingers stalled on his chest.

‘It’s not, Cas.’

‘If I had just left it to develop naturally, it might have become this intimate.’

From the way Dean held his breath, and his heart thudded harder, Castiel could tell that “intimate” was probably one of Dean’s least favourite words. He waited for the fall out, for Dean to pull away again. But it never came. If anything, he cuddled closer, like he was trying to salve Castiel’s concerns.

‘It really doesn’t matter, Cas. We’re here now. That’s the important bit.’

Castiel wanted to say something more, to tell Dean how much it mattered to him, but again, he was afraid of pressing all the wrong buttons. Instead, he began playing with the short bristles of Dean’s hair, humming that song he liked, the one he’d heard and couldn’t quite remember, that he’d hummed to Dean before. Surprisingly, Dean joined in, humming at a slightly higher key, and though it felt a little strange it was somehow comforting too. As their hums faded away, Castiel chuckled to himself, as a new thought occurred to him. Dean wouldn’t be too disparaging of the notion, hopefully.

‘Is that our song?’

He’d heard of the concept before, but maybe Dean thought it was too ridiculous for them to have a song that meant something.

‘No. Not that one. Maybe Smack My Bitch Up?’

Castiel stopped stroking his hair. He hadn’t heard of the song that Dean was referring to, if it wasn’t made up, but it sounded unpleasant. Maybe he had judged incorrectly.

‘You don’t have to mock me, Dean.’

His voice wobbled, as though he were about to cry. He wasn’t, but it felt like the moment was lost.

‘Sorry. That song just means a lot for other reasons, Cas.’

Castiel’s hand slipped down to Dean’s neck, where he began massaging the muscles there. Dean knew that song? That song meant something to him? Maybe he had heard it from the hunter once. It could be the entire reason he wanted it to be their song. Castiel was about to ask Dean more about it, when he began speaking instead, changing the subject. Castiel was surprised, but pleased, when Dean ventured something about their relationship.

‘So, remember when you first brought up the idea of you and me? You were talking about different relationships you’d noticed, right? Where do we fit in to your pattern?’

It wasn’t what Castiel had expected, but he was pleased nonetheless. At least, he was until he reflected and realised that they didn’t fit, not completely. He hadn’t mentioned those who have issues but fight for each other regardless, those who expressed their feelings physically and verbally in equal measure. It seemed like a test, almost, but Castiel was determined not to fail it.

‘I guess we don’t. I couldn’t have predicted something this incredible, Dean. We’re all the good parts of those relationships.’

He truly felt that. They were committed, like those who waited for marriage, they had incredible sex like those who didn’t want to commit … and Castiel tried to think of some way that they could have a positive from those who jumped from partner to partner in search of being fulfilled. Perhaps it was that they had found what those people were looking for? Either way, his response seemed to make Dean tense, his entire body became rigid.

‘It’s not like we don’t have problems.’

Dean sounded strained, and Castiel felt a tiny frisson of annoyance. Dean had brought the subject up after all.

‘But we’re working on them. That’s better than those who keep searching for love like this.’

‘Are you always this optimistic?’ Dean groaned, but he began to relax again, his body moulding around Castiel’s, and the ex-angel found himself laughing. It was strange, to have Dean calm down after any mention of love. It was even more unusual when Dean kissed his chest again, but so satisfactory. He had to be coming around to Castiel’s way of thinking.

‘How could I not be? You said you’d be mine.’


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