Title: Angel's Kiss
Author: aisling_door
Pairing/Character: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Category: pr0n
Rating: NC-17
Words: 659
Spoilers: YES.
Disclaimer: Alas, I don't own the boys. If I did, I sure as Hell wouldn't just be writing a short little snippet about them…
Warning: Spoilers up to and including Season 4. Slash, explicit sex.
Beta: bellajayd, who enjoys editing stuff like this much more than editing business letters.
Notes: This may very well be the first in a few stories. My muse, addicted lj fanatic that she is, gave me some plot bunnies as a gift and now they're infesting.
Summary: Dean's been having "peculiar" dreams, and they seem to be getting more and more realistic...


Dean's been having dreams.

Strange dreams, erotic dreams.

Strange, erotic dreams featuring a certain angelic figure…

Dean slowly wakes from one of these reveries to find that the lasting sensations are getting stronger as he comes closer to consciousness. Castiel is spooning him from behind, lips caressing the nape of his neck as his hands traipse on a playground composed of Dean's stomach and lower ribcage. The angel's strong forearms are sprinkled with coarse hair and not showing any signs of their usual, staid button-down sleeves.

Still half-asleep, Dean puts his hands over Castiel's. The angel doesn't stop his exploration but does ease up a fraction as if waiting to see what Dean will do. Dean is so caught up in his lingering dream-state that he doesn't even attempt to protest, instead just giving in to what he knows he really wants. He urges Castiel on by guiding his hands up his ribcage to his chest, lifting his worn grey-cotton shirt in the process.

The shirt comes off and Castiel rolls an accommodating Dean onto his back. Just as he suspected the angel is shirtless but other than that Dean can't tell, because Castiel is wrapped in the twisted covers and pressing his chest against Dean's. Slowly Dean tries to fit words out of his listless mouth as his eyes work their way up the column of neck before him, "Wha-…"

"Shhh," replies the figure above him as he lowers demanding lips to welcoming ones.

Just before first contact, though, Castiel stops.

Dean opens his eyes to see what has stayed him only to find Castiel staring at him intently. Blazing blue eyes burn into hazel, branding Dean's soul just as his hand had branded Dean's flesh. Perhaps the angel is just finishing possession.

Dean begins to fall deep within those electric depths when Castiel resumes his previous activities. Lips touch and Dean becomes lost in sensation. Castiel's mouth doesn't so much command Dean as guide him through a maze he might not have made it through on his own.

Dean's world narrows to dancing lips, moist breath, and sparring tongues.

Meanwhile, Castiel grasps Dean's wrists and effortlessly pulls the yielding limbs higher on the mattress. With Dean thus splayed, Castiel presses his entire body against the form beneath him. It feels like a perfect match, as if every crevice and hollow had been created to cradle his body.

Dean gasps at the sudden, blissful weight, and in so doing sucks Castiel's tongue further into his mouth. Castiel answers by flexing his hips, grinding slightly and relishing how Dean's entire body tenses like the string of a violin.

Castiel smiles and decides that he wants to make some music.

Without breaking contact with Dean's mouth Castiel begins to rhythmically thrust his hips. Through the barrier of blankets or jeans or who-knows-what Dean feels Castiel's erection press against his own, just as hard as he is. Without meaning to Dean begins to answer Castiel's movements.

It's a perfect counterpoint harmony that has both forms making low, involuntary noises.

Castiel's hands grip Dean's wrists tightly, their kissing becomes more frenzied, the thrusting more savage.

Just as Dean is about to lose himself completely he hears the lock to the motel room door begin to turn. Startled, he jumps just as Sam walks through the door with breakfast. Dean stares, wild-eyed, at Sam, waiting for and dreading his reaction.

Sam glances at Dean and a look of concern crosses his face. "Dude, that must have been one crazy dream."

Dean looked around but Castiel is gone.

The sheets are twisted and tangled on his body as if he's been tossing and turning for hours. Dean collapses back onto his pillow, panting.

It had just been a dream.

An intense dream, yeah, but just a dream. He tries to feel relieved but can't figure out why he isn't.

He also can't figure out how his shirt ended up hanging from the bathroom door.