"Dean."

Dean's already on the verge of falling asleep, but Cas' voice pulls him back from the edge. It's quiet, barely more than a whisper, and still, he hears. Hell, he could be knocked out cold and all you'd need for him to be up and running again is that infuriatingly calm voice in his ear. It's like… a sense. Just like seeing or hearing or tasting, Dean feels whenever Cas reaches out to him. It's… fucking weird. As if they are bonded to each other somehow and honestly, the last thing Dean needs is being connected to some exiled not-really-angel-anymore via a bond that makes his whole body whirr whenever Cas does so much as speak his name. Very much like he's doing right now, and fuck, there it is again. The goddamn whirr inside his veins, the soft tingle raising every hair on his body.

"Dean. I know you are not sleeping," Cas says.

It's pitch black inside their motel room, which makes Dean wonder how Cas knows he's wide awake and staring at the dark ceiling. He guesses their dumb bond works both ways. Shame, that, because now Dean can't fake being asleep anymore.

"What's up?" he asks, tongue strangely heavy in his mouth.

"I… I have a favor to ask." It sounds strange, because one, of course it does, this is Cas and two, everything he says sounds a tiny bit strange. But this is a different kind of strange, a new one Dean doesn't know yet. It's almost tentative. Shy. If Cas would know how shy worked, that is.

"Right now?" Dean murmurs, tilting his head just enough to sneak a glance at the clock next to him, "It's 2.30 in the morning, man."

"Yes. It cannot wait."

There's shuffling in the room, which is how Dean knows Cas is on the move. It's one of the rare nights Sam's gotten lucky, or more like, allowed himself to be, so it's only Dean, and now Cas, in the room. He's closer now, just a few feet away from the bed if Dean's hearing is anything to go by. He doesn't know why, but something's happening the closer Cas gets, as if every step he takes is the epicenter of a tiny earthquake that's stirring the atmosphere. Too bad Dean's on the receiving end of that natural disaster.

He takes another step and then he's right next to where Dean's curled up in the sheets. Dean can't take the damn suspense. Cas is being weirder than usual and the lack of visibility only doubles the tension. Dean sits up with a huff, leaning over to fumble blindly for the light switch of the bedside lamp. The glow is warm and golden, thankfully not too bright, but it still takes Dean's eyes a couple seconds to adjust and then they are on Cas, who's looking at him so damn intensely.

"What is it, Cas?" he sighs. "Ask. And then let me go back to sleep."

Cas' eyes wander over the comforter and Dean's legs beneath it as if he's looking for something. It makes Dean feel warm, or maybe that's hot he's feeling, burning.

"May I sit?" Cas asks, pointing his finger to the bed. It looks ridiculous, but that's just Cas.

Dean nods. "Go ahead."

The mattress dips when he does, but Dean tries to ignore it. Tries to ignore the additional weight on his bed, the sudden proximity, the feeling of not being alone anymore. Dean doesn't do well with being alone these days. Sure, he'll do what he has to, but that doesn't mean he's peachy on his own, even if that is what he's trying to make everyone believe—most of all, himself. Maybe Cas knows. Maybe damn Cas knows everything there is to know about him.

"I have thought about something," Cas begins. "I have had this vessel for quite some time now. Longer than I ever had a human body. I am... curious, is it? This thing you did with the girl last week. What does it feel like?"

Dean's eyebrows shoot up before he can stop them. This is what this is about? Cas is discovering his sex drive and now what? Dean's supposed to teach him the ins and outs? No, thanks. He bites back a sarcastic comment, because he realizes he's not being fair. All Cas has ever known is how to be a good angel for god. Wallowing in human carnality? Think again. So apparently, inhabiting a human body comes with its perks in that regard. "You mean sex?"

Cas keeps a straight face. "No… what you did... before that."

"Flirting?" Geez, please don't let it be flirting. There's not enough time in the world to teach Cas how to be a good flirt.

Cas' blue eyes drop to Dean's lips, and he knows. He knows what it is Cas is getting at.

"You mean kissing? The thing you do with your lips?" he asks.

His face is uncomfortably warm and he wishes he'd know why. This is just Cas and they are just talking about kissing, dammit. There's no need for his clammy palms or the flutter of his heart.

"Yes," Cas confirms. "The thing you do with your lips."

What's Dean supposed to say? He's never been one for flowery prose, so he replies with a casual, "Good. It feels good."

Cas continues to stare at his lips. Then he reaches out and brushes the pad of his thumb across Dean's mouth. It takes everything Dean has to stay still and act unaffected. Why he has to act in the first place is anybody's guess. Being touched by Cas shouldn't leave him reeling like this. He watches as Cas pulls back and touches his own lips with the same thumb that's just touched Dean. The display is strangely... sweet. Clumsy. Cas is a grown man, at least from what anyone can see, and yet he's never even kissed someone. Has never been kissed. It doesn't seem fair. He's saving the world, for Christ's sake (literally), the guy deserves letting loose once in a while.

"You wanna try it?" Dean asks.

He's not implying anything, he thinks, but really, he is. He's never kissed a man before, but Cas… he's different. Things are different with him, every single thing is different. He's the exception to every rule Dean has ever imposed on himself.

"Yes." It's soft and lacks emotion, but there's a little sizzle Dean's picking up on. Could be in the air or in their weird connection, but it's definitely there. Cas wants this. He wants it bad, so Dean thinks fuck it.

He means to take it slow, like every first kiss is supposed to be. He means to cup the back of Cas' neck and bring him in for the softest touch of their lips, just a little taste of what could be. Yeah, that's how Dean meant for this to go, but then he's kissing Cas—he's kissing Cas—and taking it slow has never been further from his mind. Because suddenly, there's this hunger, unlike anything Dean's ever felt before, burning through his body, seeping into his bones. Cas doesn't kiss back, which can probably be appointed to the fact that Dean is too fucking overwhelming for what's supposed to be a first kiss, but damn, he can't stop. It's like the soft warmth of Cas' lips is what scratches every single itch inside him, it's soothing just as much as it's breathtaking, and he just cannot fucking stop kissing him. There are soft moans spilling past Cas' lips, dancing over Dean's tongue until he swallows them down, because honestly, they are Dean's to own.

"Open your mouth," Dean says gruffly in between one scorching kiss and the next. There's another tingle of excitement rushing through him when Cas doesn't even take a moment to comply, and then Dean's the one who's moaning. He licks into Cas' mouth, feels up his wet warmth with the tip of his tongue in search of more of those delicious little noises Cas makes without understanding why. There are plenty. If there's a way to stop Dean from claiming Cas more than he is, more than he's about to, this sure as hell is not the way to do it.

"Dean." It's a goddamn whisper, breathy and hot and a wrecking ball on Dean's self-control.

His hands cup the back of Cas' neck, fingers twisting in his hair and yes, it's just as silky smooth as it looks. Slight pressure is all he's applying and then Cas is lying down, his trench coat spread out on the crumpled comforter, and Dean moves over him on his hands and knees, trapping Cas' body beneath his own.

"How does it feel?" he whispers, lips trailing down the side of Cas' neck, licking at the skin to taste salt and warmth and Cas. "Tell me."

For a moment, Cas can't respond. Dean knows he's trying from the way Cas' Adam's apple is bobbing against Dean's lips, but he's probably failing to come up with a decent enough description.

"Like you said," he breathes finally. "It feels good. So good. Keep going, Dean, please. Don't stop."

Yeah… what tiny bit of control Dean might have had left at this point disappears into thin air when he hears Cas practically beg for it. For him.

He presses open-mouthed kisses to every part of Cas he can reach, teasing the skin into a gorgeous pink hue, then he goes lower until he meets the collar of his dress shirt. Popping open only one button would probably be a mistake. Hell, scratch that, it's definitely a mistake, because Dean knows he won't be able to stop once he's started getting rid of Cas' clothes. He's already dying to see more of his skin, more of his body, more of him. All of him.

Cas reads his thoughts. "Take it off."

There's no hesitance in the command, so Dean takes his chance and makes good use of it. Buttons are a pest. Dean doesn't have the patience to make a sexy show of popping one after the other, so he grabs the lapels and rips, chuckling when Cas gasps and the buttons meet the floor and roll to where they'd never find them.

Dean brushes off Cas' trench coat and his now-ruined shirt, leaving his chest and stomach open to his gaze. It's more than Dean had anticipated. More than he could've asked for. Cas' skin is smooth and soft, tone chest speckled with a fine dusting of dark hair. And those nipples, goddamn. They are dark and tiny, standing at attention. Briefly, Dean wonders what Cas meant when he'd asked about kissing, and if it would entail kissing more than just his lips, because Dean wants to get his lips on those pretty buds something fierce.

"Can I—"

"Yes," Cas cuts him off. "Anything you want, Dean."

Cas feels perfect against his fingertips, skin flushed and hot to the touch. Dean runs his palms down his sides, grabbing Cas' hips to reposition him so all of him is on the bed and Dean has easy access to every part he wants to touch. Cas is still. He probably has no idea how to react to Dean's caresses, his kisses, his exploring. Is he going too far? Is this too much? If only his brain wasn't so hopelessly muddled with feral desire, he'd probably be able to contemplate the question and come to his damn senses. But as it is, he's nowhere near reasonable. Hell, he's not even coherent.

Dean moves in between Cas' legs and spreads them. The way his thighs curl around Dean's makes him suck in a sharp breath. The position puts Cas on delicious display; like this, Dean can see the bulge straining against the fly of his dress pants. All he'd have to do is get rid of those charcoal gray pants and he'd have Cas all to himself, without any clothes in between; bare. But thank god—or whatever force is commanding him right now—for being lucid enough to realize that tonight's not the night to take Cas all the way. No, tonight is about teaching him how to kiss and how to be kissed, and based on the way Cas is trembling all over and biting at his swollen lips, Dean's doing a fabulous job with that.

"Dean, I—" Whatever he meant to say is cut off with another one of Cas' irresistible little gasps when Dean's wet lips close around one dark nipple and suck, hard. He's perfect; perfect how he fits into Dean's mouth, how he perks up a little more with every languid stroke. Dean's painfully hard by now, his hips rutting against Cas' in a desperate attempt to find at least a little bit of friction to take off the edge. Cas' muscles ripple beneath the ivory of his skin, coaxing Dean to follow every movement they make with his tongue.

"Dean, kiss me again… here," Cas whispers.

Dean looks up, finding Cas' blue eyes instantly. Cas' fingers are on his lips, mouth open and waiting, and Dean's a goner. He kisses his way up Cas' chest, only making a brief stop to suckle on his collarbone, and then he's back to claim that perfect mouth. Cas is obviously a quick learner, because now, he's imitating Dean's lips, his tongue, as he tentatively prods at the corner of Dean's mouth. Entry is granted willingly, and then Dean's the one being kissed breathless. Fuck. Nothing's ever felt better, at least not anything Dean can remember. It's like coming alive. Again.

Cas grabs his shoulders, a little harder than necessary but Dean loves it—this innocuous display of power—and then Dean's flipped on his back and finds himself pushed into the mattress by a very hot and very eager angel in his lap. The angle's just right. Apparently, it's the same for Cas, because the initial slow roll of his clothed erection against Dean's is what whets his appetite.

"Oh god, yes… Do that again, Cas, come on," Dean rasps, breathing a mess.

They are kissing again, along with the teasing rut Cas does as if he's been born for it. Dean's fucking close, so damn close to the edge, to coming untouched. And he wants to. He wants to have Cas make him come in his jeans like a goddamn teenager, wants to find out if an orgasm is what it takes to make Cas' stoic mask slip.

"Cas…" he moans, "Touch me."

Cas doesn't stop kissing him, not even when his hand slips into the heated space between their bodies to close around Dean's rock-hard cock in his jeans, and it's what does Dean in. Just the feeling of Cas' hand wrapping around him, even over his pants, combined with his lips on his own is more than enough to get him there, and he's falling. His orgasm slams into him like a demon on rampage. For a moment, he forgets where he is. His eyes roll back into his head, mouth open on a silent scream. He's breathing heavily, still breathing heavily when he comes back down. His hands are fisting the sheets to either side of him, and for one terrifying moment, he thinks everything's been a dream he's just woken from. But then Cas is there, curled into his side, watching him with those endless blue eyes of his.

"Did I… hurt you?" he asks.

There's so much genuine concern in his voice, which is so utterly emotional and so utterly unlike Cas that Dean has to smile. He can't help himself, and he can't stop either. It has to be the afterglow he can't seem to come off of.

"No," Dean says, reaching up to stroke Cas' cheek. "On the contrary."

Cas doesn't seem entirely convinced, but the soft expression on Dean's features must be enough to let it go.

"Did I hurt you?" Dean asks in return. There are dark kiss marks on Cas'… well, everywhere.

"No, Dean. But I—" he averts his eyes and swallows.

Dean's eyes widen. He leans on his elbow to reach Cas' fly, opening it just enough to slip one hand inside. Cas' eyes flutter closed, just like Dean's, when he feels wetness moistening his fingertips.

"You came?" he asks, incredulous, eyes still closed as he feels his way around Cas' underwear.

"Is this what it is called?" Cas asks. "Coming? It felt more like exploding to me."

Dean laughs. "Well, I guess that's another way to describe it. But yes, us humans say coming."

"Ah."

Dean tugs off Cas' pants and then his own before they end up under the sheets together. Dean's never been much of a cuddler, but as previously established, things are different with Cas. So as soon as they settle next to each other, Dean's bare toes brush along Cas' calf, mapping out its curve.

"So, what did it for you?" Dean asks, fingertip tracing a hickey on Cas' throat.

"What… did it for me?"

"Yeah, as in… I mean, what made you… explode?"

Cas shuffles infinitesimally closer to Dean. For a second there, Dean's worried Cas can actually feel the rabid beating of his heart now and declare him a hopeless sap.

"You, Dean."

"Duh." Dean rolls his eyes, because yes, Cas had better come because of him. Anything else would be an insult. Dean's hand is in Cas' damp hair when Cas slips closer to him still, now audibly inhaling his scent. "I mean what exactly got you there?"

"Oh," Cas breathes. "Your face when you… came. You are very beautiful, Dean."

Dean stays quiet. All he does is pull Cas closer, and if it's only to hide his dopey smile in Cas' hair, that's his own business. Cas has just told him Dean's o-face is the reason he's spilled himself in his pants, which is literally the hottest thing Dean's ever heard. Cas may have never done anything sexual, never experienced it, but heavens, he's a goddamn natural. And now that Dean's been Cas' first kiss, he kinda wants to be his first for everything else, too. Romantic? Yeah... try fucked up.