Title: Angel's Hand
Author: aisling_door
Pairing/Character: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Category: pr0n
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2,061
Spoilers: YES.
Disclaimer: Alas, I don't own the boys…though if anyone's selling them…
Warning: Spoilers up to and including Season 4. Slash, explicit sex.
Beta: bellajayd, to whom I owe much pr0n for services rendered; I shall be writing for the rest of my life to pay off my debt.
Notes: This is the third story and follows Angel's Caress. RL necessitated a hiatus, but hopefully the rest will come quicker now.
Summary: Dean becomes more... proactive...


"Why the hell did you do that?"  Sam's bellow causes the windows in the motel room to rattle even though he's just barely through the door.  Dean follows on his heels with hunched shoulders and an expression of rage on his face that's contorted with shadows painted by the setting sun.

"What the hell do you mean?" Dean yells.  He slams the door, further rattling the windows.  Dean stalks around the room, looking like an animal trapped in a cage.  "She was driving like an asshole!"

Sam drops his duffle and laptop bag on the floor and looks incredulously at his brother.  "Dean, she had to be 80 years old!"

"She gave me the finger!"  Dean continues to pace.

Yeah, well, you deserved it!  Why the hell did you ride her ass like that and continuously beep your horn?"

She was driving five miles under the speed limit!  She shouldn't have a license!"

"Dean, it was a two-lane highway!"  Sam takes a deep breath and lowers his voice.  "That's it, I've had it.  You've been blowing up at me for no reason for the past week.  I'm going to do some research.  You..." Sam looks at Dean still stalking around the room, "do whatever."  Sam grabs his laptop bag and leaves the motel room, making sure to close the door quietly.

Dean continues to pace.  He's been getting more and more frustrated over the past week, ever since his last dream with Castiel.  He doesn't know what's wrong with him, getting antsy like this.  He doesn't want to dream of Cas!

Dean knows he's not gay. He's never been attracted to another man, EVER.  He likes women.  They're soft, they smell good, their bodies are incredible… but what happens in those dreams…

"Damn it!"  Dean stops pacing and clenches his fists, willing his mind not to go there.

He's just sexually frustrated, that's all.  He spent 40 years in Hell without getting laid, and how much steam has he blown off since then?  That's got to be the answer.  He just needs to go out and find a willing girl and he'll be set.

Dean rubs a hand roughly over his face and then heads to the bathroom to splash cold water over it.  The water is icy and helps to cool his mind for a moment.

He looks in the mirror and sees the dark bags under his eyes, testaments to the nights he's spent in fitful sleep.  "You one ugly mofo," he tells his reflection.  He'll take a nap and then go to a bar to hook up, he decides.

Dean sits down on the edge of his bed – he is exhausted, he has to admit that.  He pulls off his boots and his socks, throwing them in the same general direction across the room, then flops down on the bed fully clothed and wills himself to fall to sleep.  Now that he has a game plan, he figures, sleep should come as a mercy.


Dean wakes up to a dark room.  He'd slept like a rock, which meant no dreams.  He's still frustrated but now he has no one to take it out on but himself.  Still groggy, Dean sits up and throws his legs over the edge of his bed, head in his hands.  "Damn it!" he mutters, "I'm so fucked up."

He hears a throat clear and realizes that Sam's back.  Dean really needs to apologize to his brother, he knows that.  He's been treating him like shit with no good reason just because his subconscious mind is playing games.

Dean's voice is still rough with sleep.  "Look, Sam…"  He raises his head to continue and sees not Sam but Castiel standing a few feet away in his usual tax accountant garb save for bare feet.

Dean's heart begins to race and he just stares dumbly for a few moments.  Castiel stays where he is, waiting and patient.  Bare feet. Castiel would never come to Dean without shoes in real life, which meant that this was a dream.

Dean remembers how to breathe and mutters, "Thank God."  He jumps up and reaches Castiel in two steps.

In one smooth motion he grips the angel's head and begins devouring his mouth like a starving man.  Castiel answers his kiss with a ferocity of his own, his hands roaming up Dean's back to grip at his shoulders.

They begin to undress each other, kissing skin as it's exposed.  After they've taken care of their shirts Dean reaches his fingers just beneath the waist of Castiel's trousers and they both become still.

They look into each other's eyes; Dean's hazel eyes steady and Castiel's blue eyes questioning.

Keeping eye contact Dean slowly begins to unbutton the angel's pants.  Castiel draws in a sharp breath, his body frozen in place.  Dean begins to unzip the pants, his fingers brushing over the hard length beneath the straining fabric.  Castiel's eyes roll back and he closes his them with a low groan.

Dean grips the belt loops of the pants and violently jerks the angel hard against him.  Castiel's eyes open quickly but close just as fast when Dean grabs his lower lip between his teeth and begins to suck.  The angel lets out something between a moan and a shout and grabs Dean's upper arms.

Castiel forces his tongue into Dean's mouth and Dean is more than happy to oblige.  Castiel begins to slowly rake clawed hands down Dean's arms, fingers kneading defined muscles held taut with anticipation.

Still kissing, Castiel's hands mirror Dean's movements in reverse: as Dean's hands caress up the angel's stomach and reach around his back Castiel moves his hands down Dean's sides to rest at the closure of his jeans.

Castiel's hands sit there, not moving, as they continue to kiss.  Dean moves his head down to the other man's throat, mouth open and teeth scraping as his tongue dances along the salty skin.  Castiel arches his head back to expose more throat, hands still unmoving. 

Dean growls against his skin, "Damn it, do it already!" and begins to bite and suck at the offered flesh.

Castiel smiles and begins to undo Dean's jeans.  He then pushes them down, exposing Dean's olive-green boxer briefs and the erection peaking out from the slit in the front.  Dean kicks out of his jeans while harshly shoving Castiel's own trousers down his legs.

When both are free, Dean pulls Castiel towards him and crushes him against his chest, thigh to thigh and chest to chest.

As they begin to kiss again Castiel moves his hips gently.

The sensation of their dicks rubbing together makes Dean groan and he begins to move as well.  Castiel's hands drift down to grab Dean's ass, urging him into a faster rhythm.

Dean answers by grabbing the sides of Castiel's ass and hips and grinding the angel into him.  Castiel lets out a hiss and Dean looks into eyes that appear to be glowing with heat.

At the same time, both move towards the bed.  They end up with Castiel half-laying on his back and Dean leaning over him.

Dean grips Castiel's dick, causing the other man to drop his head backward.

After a few strokes Dean mutters, "Not enough," and begins to remove the angel's white briefs.  Castiel grabs Dean's hands quickly and his head shoots back up, eyes blazing fire.

Dean stops, hands frozen over the partially lowered briefs.

He looks at Castiel, but the angel remains unmoving for what feels like years.  Finally, Castiel nods and he lets go of Dean's hands.  Dean slowly lowers the briefs.

Castiel's erection rests against his stomach, a dark contrast to the lighter skin.  Dean begins to stroke, watching the angel's face for clues; he has never done this on anyone but himself, but for some reason he doesn't feel self-conscious.

After a few long strokes Castiel says, "Wait."

Dean's hand stills but stays gripped tight around the hot flesh.  He gazes at the angel, wondering if he's going to get rejected in his own dream.  The angel sits up and gets onto his knees on the bed, causing Dean to let go of his dick.

The angel's eyes still seem to be lit with a blue fire and Dean is unsure what he's going to do next.  With hooded eyes the angel reaches over and begins to lower Dean's underwear.

Dean's breathe catches with excitement.  He lies on his back and arches his ass off the bed to allow the angel to remove the last bit of clothing.

When he's done, Castiel stares down at Dean, now prone on his back and fully unclothed.  He continues to stare for a long time, long enough for Dean to start feeling antsy and a little bashful.  Just as he starts to fidget the angel mutters, "Beautiful," and begins to lower himself as he moves up Dean's body.

Dean reaches his hands up and caresses Castiel.  First his shoulders, then moving down his torso as the angel continues to glide up his body.  Castiel reaches for Dean's mouth and he gladly offers it, grabbing the angel's ass and positioning him so their dicks fit together perfectly.

They grind against each other until it's too much for Dean, he wants more.

Dean angles one leg up and rolls onto his side, bringing Castiel under him.  He holds himself above him with one arm and frees the other to grip the angel's dick once again.

Castiel's breathe speeds up with every stroke.

Their gazes remain fixed on each other.

Castiel begins to make low noises and grabs Dean's dick.  Dean's eyes roll back as he swallows and chokes out, "Fuck."  He opens them again and continues to stare down into Castiel's eyes.  They both continue stroking, finding a syncopated rhythm that continues to gain speed.

Castiel's free hand shoots up and grabs at Dean's back; he tries to keep Dean's gaze but his eyes keep closing.

Dean feels the angel's dick begin to throb and his hips jerk.  He looks down just as the angel groans and grips Dean tight as he comes on his own stomach.

The sight of Castiel coming and the subsequent convulsing grip brings Dean to the edge.  He feels his own hips jerk and closes his eyes at the overwhelming sensation.  Castiel strokes him harder until, a few strokes later, Dean also comes on the angel's stomach.

Dean is panting and unable to gather himself, his hand resting on the angel's still-erect dick.  He finally opens his eyes and looks up to find Castiel watching him with that waiting gaze.

Without thinking, Dean leans over and lays a tender kiss on Castiel's mouth.  Castiel returns the kiss just as gently.  Wordlessly, Dean rolls onto his back and grabs some tissues from the nightstand.  He rolls back over and offers them to Castiel, who takes them and begins to clean himself up.

When he's done and without speaking Castiel gets up and begins to get dressed while Dean lays on the bed and watches.  A million thoughts chase across his face.  "Hey Cas."

Castiel looks up from putting on his pants.  "Yes?"  His eyes are questioning.

Dean looks unsure of what he's about to ask.  "Why do I keep having these dreams?"  He looks like a child searching for an answer.

Castiel's face remains expressionless and he begins to dress himself once more.  "Dreams tell us things, Dean."  He secures his pants.

"Yeah, but what are these dreams telling me?"  Castiel begins silently buttoning his shirt.  In his head Dean adds, and why am I suddenly fine with having homoerotic dreams?

Looking pensive, Castiel replies, "Sometimes dreams tell you what you want, or what you need."  He gathers his tie and begins to tie it.  "I don't know, Dean.  You have to figure this out for yourself."  He bends down and grabs his trench coat.  As he gets up, he throws Dean's underwear in his face.  When Dean removes them, the angel is gone.

Dean stares at the space the angel had inhabited a moment before.  "Well, shit."  His questions unanswered, Dean pulls his boxers over his feet and then arches his hips to get them up to his waist.

He lies down on the rumpled sheets and stares at the ceiling, wondering if he'll have any answers when he finally wakes up again.