Title: Different Times
Author: martyred-wings
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Mr Eric Kripke. I make no money from this - this is purely for entertainment porpoises (and dolphins).
Summary: No matter the time, Castiel and Dean's love will always remain.


An Evening Meal

The motel room was mostly dark when Dean walked in, unsuspecting of the gloom held within, before he stopped in the doorway, blinking in the meager light until his eyes adjusted to the flickering candle glow held within. He cast his gaze around the room, wondering just what in hell was going on when he saw just how many candles littered every available surface, throwing a romantic light over everything.

"Sam?" Dean asked, in confusion, as he finally came in from the chill night air outside, shutting the door firmly behind him and setting every flame to flickering and guttering.

"Sam's not here, Dean," came the familiar voice of Castiel, as his slim body materialized from out of the gloom on the other side of the room. "I sent him away."

"Okay," Dean said, slowly, still staring at the candles surrounding him. "What's with all the candles, Cas?"

"It's February 14th, Dean. I thought I would treat you to a candlelight dinner. That's what couples do on Valentine's day, isn't it?" Castiel asked, his head tilted to one side in the all too familiar gesture of angelic confusion.

"Yeah. You really did all this for me?" Dean asked, feeling touched beyond all words.

No one had ever done this for him before, and to see that Castiel had wanted to do it, and do it all for him meant more to Dean than anything.

"Yes. Don't you like it?" the angel asked, sounding a little hurt, shoulders slumping a little in dejection.

"This has gotta be the best thing that anyone has ever done for me. So, yeah, ‘course I like it," Dean said, feeling awkward, still not quite sure as to what he was supposed to say, what he was expected to do.

Castiel looked up from where his gaze had been rooted to the floor, looked hopeful, eyes still holding that kicked puppy dog look of doom that always wrenched at Dean's heart. The hunter walked forward, taking Castiel's chin in his hand, before pressing lips to Castiel's own, trying to convey with a kiss instead of words how he felt. The angel seemed to know what was meant, what was implied, by the way that his arms looped gently around Dean's waist, by the way that he leant his body into the hunter's, by the way that his lips moved hungrily against Dean's.

Dean broke away from the kiss reluctantly, breathing heavily against the intensity of the kiss, finding his gaze trapped by Castiel's intense blue eyes staring from only a few inches away. They were that same hypnotic blue they always were, still held Dean captive every time. Their breath mingled, tickled against each other's cheeks, sent shivers through each of their bodies.

"Thank you, Cas," Dean said, quietly and was just about all that he could say right then..

"That's alright, Dean. There's more. I have dinner," the angel said, expression brightening a little, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and sending the corners of his eyes into amused crinkles.

"Food? Well, why didn't you say so, before. I'm freaking starving here," Dean said, watching as Castiel opened several cartons carrying Chinese food that had been stored unnoticed on the table by the far wall.

The familiar scents of Kung Pao Chicken, Szechuan chicken and Special Fried Rice filled the air, as Castiel opened each of the corresponding packages. Dean inhaled deeply, appreciatively, as he snagged a handful of prawn crackers and chewed hungrily, small crunching sounds filling the air. He watched as Castiel removed his coat, his jacket, before he shared the contents of each carton between two paper plates, fastidious in his equal measures.

Dean smiled as he watched, loving the fluid easy way that Castiel moved, how his brow furrowed in concentration, at the way his lips puckered and pouted when he was really concentrating. Castiel noticed him watching, looked up, smiled briefly, a pale pink blush creeping across his cheeks as his gaze met and held Dean's.

"You ready?" he asked, eventually, as he carefully sat himself down before the table. "And if you say you were born ready, I will be forced to kill you."

Dean feigned horror, before he said - "You would do that? To me?"

Castiel huffed out a chortle of laughter, before he shook his head at Dean.

"No, now eat up," he said, as he gestured towards Dean's plate with a pair of slender chopsticks.

Dean ignored his own chopsticks, and went for a nearby fork instead. Castiel noticed and hid a smile behind a hastily chewed piece of Kung Pao chicken speared between quick chopsticks darting down. He closed his eyes in satisfaction, felt the flavors flood across his tongue, opened his eyes once more to find Dean watching him intently.

No words were exchanged, just meaningful looks shared, companionable silence replacing all need for conversation, both comfortable in one another's company to have no need for words. They remained silent, all the while through their unhurried meal, until every last scrap of chicken was gone, every last grain of rice had been consumed.

Dean stood, with a slight groan as stiff joints popped, rubbed at his back where it had suddenly caught, before before he collected their plates, and threw them in the trash with the rest of the discarded cartons.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean said, standing close to Castiel, so close he could feel the heat thrown from the angel's body where he stood. "This has been - perfect."

"I know," Castiel said, with a small smile, eyes fixed on Dean's for an all too brief moment, before he looked away, down to the floor.

His lips pushed out slowly as he suddenly swallowed, looked so damn kissable that Dean took his unconscious invitation and leant in, pressed his lips to the angel's, moaned when he felt Castiel respond without question. Dean claimed entrance to Castiel's mouth, sliding his tongue in possessively, pulled Castiel's body in close with one urgent arm. Castiel tasted of the Chinese they'd just eaten, tasted of the wine they'd sipped, tasted of Castiel himself, of perfection.

Dean laced his fingers through the angel's dark hair, gripping him tight as he plundered Castiel's mouth, moaned at the feel of the angel's lips working at his own, at the feel of Castiel's tongue meeting his. The kiss was hot, sensuous, perfect, but finally, Dean had to pull away, to catch his breath, to relearn how to breathe. Castiel's eyes remained trained on Dean's, as his tongue made a slow pas of his bottom lip, pink in the guttering light of the candle light.

The candles gave Castiel an ethereal quality in their guttering flames, bronzed his skin, made him glow, seem more like the angel he was, than just a vessel harbouring an angel. Dean's hands travelled reverently over Castiel's body, unable to believe that this perfect being was really there, really his, really wanted to be with him.

A soft moan leaked past Castiel's full lips, and his eyes closed tight, eyelashes causing dark shadows on his cheeks in the candle light. Dean couldn't take his eyes from Castiel's face, thinking that in this world of horror and darkness, there was always light to guide the way.

Castiel was his light, Castiel was his guide, and Dean would gladly follow him wherever he should go ....


Close to Midnight

The moon shone down across the beach, smiling down at the lapping waves without cease. A set of footprints marred the otherwise perfect expanse of beach, trailing eastwards, finally headed towards the sea itself.

Dean watched the waves lick at the shore, threatening to wash over his boots, they came so close. He watched the reflection of the moon ride the ceaseless, ever moving surface of the ocean, watched as the stars peppered its dark surface like tiny diamonds glittering in the dark.

The ocean did nothing to soothe his tortured soul, his troubled heart. Dean would get no rest until he knew that Castiel was safe. He knew that the angel was off on another mission, fighting demons somewhere on an angelic battlefield, somewhere far away that Dean couldn't stand at his side and fight alongside him. He sighed, cast his eyes down towards the sand, kicked a loose pebble free, shifted it along the sands, before he kicked it into the waves, watched it fall into the water with a satisfying little plop.

He sighed, squinting out towards the horizon, and wondered what was out there. He blinked, heard a noise that he at first thought was the waves still lapping at the shore, before he realized that it was in fact Castiel. Dean had heard the sounds of the angel's wings, so similar to the sounds of the waves before him, that it had seemed to mingle, become one.

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief, shoulders slumped a little, his eyes cast down at the sand with relief, before his gaze inevitably drifted up to Castiel's face beside him. Castiel was looking out at the sea, eyes narrowed in a similar fashion to Dean's previous squint, lips gentle, curled up in a satisfied smile. From that look alone, Dean knew that this time, the angels had won, the demons vanquished for another battle, and Castiel himself had escaped unharmed. He was standing too easily to be anything other than unhurt.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, blinking at the angel in the soft moonlight.

Castiel turned that perfect, intense gaze upon him, looking more ethereal in the moonlight, more angelic, and Dean's breath caught in his throat. Castiel had never looked so perfect, so beautiful than he did right then and Dean wanted to press urgent lips to Castiel's to run his hands over bared skin, to make Castiel react, writhe beneath him, moan for Dean.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel replied, breaking into the hunter's train of thought, with that familiar deep voice that was exclusive to Castiel alone.

"How'd it go?" Dean asked, struggling past lack of concentration to find something, anything, to say.

"The battle? Oh, it went well. We won, by a tight margin," Castiel replied, as he cast his gaze up at the sky, looked towards the stars as though counting them.

The moonlight played across his face, made his eyes seem a darker blue than normal, more mysterious, caught his lips and made them more kissable somehow. Dean must have shifted, made an involuntary noise, for Castiel looked back at Dean, before his breath was driven from his body by the force of Dean pressing urgent lips to the angel's.

Castiel responded, worked his lips against Dean's, needed this kiss as much as Dean did. All through bloody battles and hard won fights, he'd thought of Dean, needed Dean by his side, needed to feel Dean against him, needed to feel his kiss once more. That thought alone had kept him going; that he might see Dean at the end of the fighting.

He did not protest when Dean pushed his coat free from his shoulders, did not fight when his suit jacket swiftly followed, both pooling on the sand at his feet. He grabbed fistfuls of Dean's T Shirt in suddenly sweaty hands, pushed the soft material higher up the hunter's body, before he broke the kiss reluctantly, to push the T Shirt over Dean's head.

Dean moaned quietly, eyes closed against the night sky as he felt Castiel's fingers skim over the bare skin of his abdomen, traced sigils across his chest, soothed tense shoulders with exploratory hands. He felt his erection strain against his sudden too tight jeans, begging release, soon given when Castiel slowly removed Dean's jeans from around his hips. He kicked them free, heard a faint splash as they were kicked too far and landed in the water.

He stole another kiss from Castiel's responsive lips, as he unbuckled, unzipped the angel's dark pants, yanked them free, along with the angel's boxers. Still kissing, they fumbled at Castiel's tie, his shirt, before they, too, fell to the sand in a heap, forgotten in an instant. Dean ran reverent hands over the angel's body, amazed once again at how strong the body felt beneath his fingers, despite the fragile look of him. His hand travelled further south, slowly, as he watched Castiel's face slowly flush with need, desire, lips parted, swollen, eyes closed, neck exposed as his head was thrown back.

Dean wrapped his hand around Castiel's weeping erection, and both moaned loudly at the contact, sent their cries of sudden lust to the stars. Dean started to stroke Castiel's cock, slowly at first, picked up the pace at the angel's insistent, bird soft cries, his hips bucking into Dean's palm with every stroke. Dean quickened the pace, pumped firmer, faster, made Castiel's cries fall louder in the otherwise silent night air as Castiel‘s hips rocked harder against Dean‘s firm hand.

Castiel dropped his gaze to Dean's, eyes locking, tongue licking out across his lower lip, as an orgasm threatened to overcome him. He fought it, fought hard, then finally gave in to the lust setting his veins alight, coming in hot spurts over Dean's palm, coating the hunter's hand with his release. He cried out for Dean, cried something wordless, then cried for Dean again, as he slowly came down from waves of bliss still coursing through his body.

He didn't protest when Dean turned him round, didn't protest when Dean encouraged him to his hands and knees, just followed the hunter's gentle persuasion without question. He blinked against the sweat still dripping into his eyes, before breath hitched in his throat when he felt Dean press a finger slowly inside him. He bit his lip, felt the burn, the pain, give way to something more pleasurable. Only then did he allow himself to cry out, a long muddled litany of "yes!" and "Dean !" and "please!" mixed in with panted moans and pleasured murmurs. He rocked back onto Dean's hand, harder when he felt Dean press another finger inside him, harder still when his fingers rubbed over Castiel's prostate.

He gasped out a mumbled litany of curses, felt his cock grow steadily harder the longer Dean stroked at his prostate, rocked backwards helplessly.

As though sensing the angel was nearing his time again, Dean withdrew his fingers, spat into his hand, slicked up his own cock with his own saliva, before he guided himself into Castiel, crying out the angel's name as he sank inside him, felt the tight heat close around his cock snugly. He steadied Castiel's hips, thrust into him again, again, harder, eyes closed against the elation coursing through him.

Nothing came close to how it felt when he made love to Castiel, when he was buried deep inside the angel, and heard him when he came beneath him. Dean balanced himself, shifted, changed the angle slightly and hit Castiel's prostate with every other rough thrust. Castiel's cries were getting louder, more insistent, and Dean knew that the angel was close to coming. He thrust harder, picked up the pace, felt his own time draw ever nearer, only dimly aware of Castiel stroking himself firmly beneath him, hand working fast over his cock.

Ragged breaths mingled, cries rose and entwined in the night air, lost to the stars and the ever watching moon. Castiel came hard, released himself over his own hand, with a long and drawn out cry of Dean's name, muscles clamping down around Dean's cock as he orgasmed. Dean couldn't hold back any longer, and released himself hard inside his angel, hips snapping against Castiel's as he shouted loudly for the angel.

He threw his head back, chest heaving, as he shouted for Castiel again, needed him, wanted him still, wanted to fuck into him again, but it was too soon, still too soon. Dean slowly withdrew, before he slumped back against the sand beneath him, gasping for breath. Castiel joined him, settled comfortably against Dean's side, one arm, one leg draped across Dean's body, as the angel rested his head against the hunter's shoulder.

Castiel closed his eyes, smiled, as he felt Dean's arm wrap sturdily around his slim shoulders, drew him in closer to the hunter's body. He smiled again when he felt Dean's lips press gently against the top of his dark haired head, felt the comforting weight of Dean's free hand stroke against Castiel's arm.

They lay like that, not speaking, not feeling the need to speak, just bathing on the moonlight and in each other's love ....


Breakfast, Not At Tiffany's

The smell of coffee filled the air, mingling with the aroma of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and the sweet cinnamon smell of spiced buns and muffins. Dean tucked into his plate filled with syrup choked pancakes, as sounds of satisfied approval filled the air around him, eyes closed momentarily as the sweet syrup mingled with the more savoury pancakes.

Castiel watched him, eyes trained in intense scrutiny, tongue licking out over a full bottom lip, every time that Dean took a fresh bite. His eyes were large, intense, hungry, but the hunger was more for Dean than the pancakes the hunter was eating, enjoying.

"Dude, are you sure you don't want some?" Dean asked, mouth full, cheeks slightly bulging, before his tongue licked out to catch a stray drop of syrup.

Castiel shook his head, wordlessly, didn't trust himself to make a coherent sentence at that moment, too ruled by the erection pressed against his pants.

"Are you sure?" the hunter teased, as he cut off a bite size chunk and held it out to Castiel, to tempt him.

Surprisingly, the angel leant forward, took the bite sized piece from the fork Dean still held, before he sat back in his own chair, eyes closed momentarily as he chewed slowly. He licked a stray droplet of syrup, a few crumbs of pancake from his full lips, before he swallowed, smiled appreciatively. His eyes opened, blinked, looked a little distant, blinked again, and slowly came into focus once more.

"Good?" Dean asked, as a small smile tugged at his lips, brightened his expression for a moment.

"It was very good," Castiel said, surprised that he'd even liked something as simple as pancakes.

Dean held another forkful of pancake towards the angel, syrup almost dropping to the otherwise clean tabletop. Castiel leant forward just in time, to snag the mouthful before the syrup had a chance to fall. He drew it off the fork slowly, eyes trained on Dean's, turned dark with sudden lust, hunger, need, and Dean's cock gave an interested jerk.

The sight of Castiel eating alone was enough to turn Dean on, but to actually hand feed the angel ...? That was another ball game entirely for the hunter. He was suddenly glad that the diner was almost empty, that Sam was not there to make fun, trade snarky comments with Dean and Castiel both. A groan of want fell from slightly parted lips as Dean watched as Castiel turned the simple act of eating a mouthful of pancake into an almost pornographic moment.

He chewed slowly on a piece of pancake himself, but didn't take his eyes from Castiel. He offered a spare fork to the angel, but Castiel didn't take any notice of the offered cutlery, just seemed to want Dean to feed him instead.

Dean complied, first giving the angel a bite, before he took one for himself. Both grunted out in satisfaction, both licked their lips and chewed slowly, both closed their eyes at the same moment. The pancakes were soon gone, demolished by hungry hunter and appreciative angel, before Dean finally stood, dropped dollar bills on the table to pay for the meal.

He turned to leave, cast a look back at the angel, watched him as he stood to follow Dean from the diner, door shutting firmly behind them. Dean practically dragged Castiel into a nearby alleyway, mouth pressed hungrily to Castiel's lips, mewling sounds of need, of want filled the air around them, as Castiel kissed Dean back, lips parted, tongues danced, entwined, tasted each other. Castiel moaned loudly when Dean ground his hips against his, ground his erection against the angel's, created friction that made them both whimper. Dean repeated the gesture, ground harder, and Castiel's hands clutched convulsively at Dean's body, drew him closer, ran swiftly down Dean's back, across his ass, upwards again.

Dean stole another kiss, lips worked greedily at lips, tongues fucked into each other's mouths, hips ground against hips in a sinuous dance of mindless pleasure. They went uninterrupted, as hands explored willing bodies, hips ground, tongues fucked, groans and cries slipped past sucking, biting lips. Finally, Castiel came, spurted his release into his pants, with a cry of Dean's name into the hunter's open mouth, cried out again when another orgasm rocked his slender body moments later. Dean strained, held back, tried to resist his own orgasm, but couldn't hold on for long when Castiel was pliant and willing against him. He came, coated his boxers with his release, pulled away from Castiel to shout out the angel's name to the skies overhead.

He leant into Castiel's waiting arms, receptive body, chests heaving and straining, as moans still dropped from lust filled throats, hands touched, eyes locked together. So much passed between them without the need for actual words - things such as love, want, need and I can't live without you.

Castiel kissed Dean one last time, before a policeman strolled slowly past the end of the alleyway, clutching a doughnut in one pudgy hand. Although he didn't glance down, didn't notice the angel and hunter still caught in a lover's embrace in the gloom, they decided without exchanging words again to leave, to go somewhere more private, to continue what they had started ...


Talk At Noon

Castiel watched as Dean wandered alone through the park at noon, head bowed as though in deep thought, shoulders drawn up, as though he felt cold despite the heat of the day. The angel frowned in compassion, lips pressed together in concern. He felt Dean's inner turmoil as though it were his own, felt the confusion, but did not know the cause of it, could not determine that from Dean's meandering thoughts.

He sighed, walked towards Dean, caught up with the slowly walking hunter easily, but didn't speak, not even when Dean looked up, glanced soulfully at Castiel's face.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, voice as despondent as his posture.

"Hello, Dean. What's the matter?" Castiel asked, one hand upon Dean's shoulder stopping the hunter in his tracks.

"It doesn't matter," Dean said, turned away, eyes downcast to the leaf strewn ground.

"Is it Sam? Did you fight with your brother?" Castiel asked, as he leant in closer.

Dean closed his eyes, told Castiel with a simple shake of his head that Sam was not the problem, never had been, at least not in this instance.

"Then what is it? Maybe I can help," Castiel said, gently, rubbed Dean's shoulder through his lethaer jacket.

"I don't think that you can, Cas. Not with this. What you would know about helping people with - " and Dean turned away, seemed unable to finish his own sentence,

"Dean?" Castiel asked, head tilted to the side, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Do angels ever feel love?" Dean asked.

"Of course we do, Dean. We feel love for all of mankind," Castiel replied, still not understanding the meaning behind how Dean was feeling.

"Yeah, not quite what I meant, Cas," Dean said, gaze finally darting up towards the angel's once more. "I meant, love for one person in particular. I'm not good at explaining stuff like this, Cas."

Castiel's lips thinned, gaze diverted to the floor, face unreadable in the fall noon light.

"Yes, in certain rare cases, we can feel more love towards certain people in our charge," he admitted, quietly. "It doesn't happen very often, but there have been cases."

"Have you ever felt - " and Dean broke off his own sentence, as though afraid to follow his own train of thought.

"Love? Yes, but only once," Castiel admitted, as he turned his gaze towards Dean's, expression still hard for Dean to read.

Dean couldn't help but grin at that, before he said - "You sly dog, you! Who was it?"

By the look in his eye, it looked as though the hunter had wanted to say - "who is it?" - but just held back from saying those exact words. The significance of Dean's question barely concealed was not lost on Castiel, and the angel surprisingly smiled.

"I think the other question is more fitting, Dean. Who is it? The person is you, Dean. I love you," he said, slowly, uncertainly, as though fearful of a punch, disgusted words, a rebuke of some kind.

Dean leant forward, caught Castiel's attention, before he gave him an encouraging smile.

"Seriously?" he asked, hope trapped in his eyes, his voice, his very posture.

Castiel nodded, wordlessly, still looked too much like a kicked puppy for Dean's liking right then. Dean reached out, gently rubbed Castiel's arm through his tan trench coat, and the angel smiled slightly at the contact, looked a little hopeful.

"And if I told you I loved you, would you believe me?" Dean asked, with a slight grimace at his own choice of cheesy-romance-movie lines.

"Yes," Castiel said. "You have never lied to me, not once. You've maybe been a little stubborn, but never willingly lied. Why would you start now?"

"Good point," Dean conceded, surprised at the angel's observation.

On a whim, he leant forward, closed the gap between them, before his lips hovered a breath away from Castiel's. He waited, and Castiel took the bait, closed the gap, pressed needy lips to Dean's, proved in that one loaded kiss just how much he loved Dean. There was too much emotion involved in that kiss for Castiel to be faking it, and Dean was lost. He responded, his own feelings towards Castiel apparent in the way his lips pressed hard against Castiel‘s, the way he chose not to hold back with him like he had with countless women before him, and he knew - that this was it.

This was what he had been waiting for his whole life. Castiel was what he had been waiting for. Dean knew that he would fight to keep Castiel by his side, would fight to not fuck things up this time. He'd lost too much in his lifetime to lose something, someone else now.

And Castiel knew this, realized this because he knew what loss felt like, knew what it meant to him to want to keep Dean forever by his side. He knew he would face anything, even the threat of falling if it meant staying with Dean.

And then there was nothing more to say, to feel except for the kiss itself ...