Now, it's not really anyone's business, not even yours, so don't go around talking.

But Dean's insanely in love with his angel, who happens to be willing to risk his angelic state and the world alike for him. So maybe the angel loves him too. Okay, it's not maybe, it's definitely.

Dean knows it. Cas knows it. Sam… Sam calls Dean a man-whore behind his back, 'cause it's true.

Dean likes to have his one-night stands and Cas doesn't get jealous once. He doesn't come barging in and demand that Dean stop with his 'iniquitous acts'. He likes to make the women orgasm in the back of his Impala, across any convenient horizontal surface (sometimes vertical), maybe even in the back of bars. The where doesn't matter, the when he prefers to be regularly, and the why is because he has a healthy libido and he's hot shit. So sue him.

He doesn't give a fuck.

But Dean and Cas… they're kind of a thing. Y'know, kind of an eternal bond going on between them.

And you know what? Dean has never cheated on Cas. Which might explain why Cas never blows his top.

You see… as Cas had once said, they share a profound bond. It's deeper than physical, it's Grace-to-Soul deep.

Besides, Cas may be very much in love with Dean, may want him very much, but Jimmy's body is still wired as heterosexual. Jimmy's brain is still in the body and it sends out signals that react around certain types of women, though Cas has never acted on any impulse brought about by these signals.

You think it was an accident when Cas told Chastity that her dad ran away because of his job at the post office? No, he knew that she would react negatively, even if he hadn't completely understood why. He isn't an angel for show. He was just inexperienced.

Now he isn't. And he knows he loves Dean and he knows that Dean loves him. Because Cas can't get physical and Dean still holds onto his straightness with a fighter's grip, they have gotten… inventive.

They are lying side by side in Dean's hotel bed, facing each other with forehead pressed together, lips meeting, meshing, parting on soft gasps and moans…

They are fully dressed, Cas's hands on Dean's temples and Dean's hands squeezing the angel's hips. The hunter sucks his bottom lip into his mouth after a brief separation, eyes shut, and then he shivers, body arching, and he whines something incoherent.

Cas, on the contrary, is staring with wide blue eyes at Dean, speculating his every move, every twitch and noise, and when Dean bites his lip, he leans back in and assists his lover in tenderizing the pink flesh.

The action is, mostly, centered within Dean, though. In his soul, actually. Cas is there, Grace shining almost blindingly, and he is spinning in and out of the hunter's essence, spreading and shrinking, twirling and straightening, curling and relaxing, all inside of Dean's soul. Dean loves it, is reacting as strongly to it as a human possibly can.

He knows that he's practically being made love to – not fucked, not screwed, not just having sex with – by Cas. He's there, inside of him, thrusting slowly and gently in and out of him, and his voice is there, hushing his soul's pained cries and healing his insecurities, tears, wounds, and shame.

Dean gives back his own, squeezing and shivering and begging, glowing brighter and brighter with the more attention he gets. His soul has its own voice and it's pleading with Cas to never leave, to always love him like this, to never stop loving him.

Dean's soul doesn't have Dean's protective layer of douche-ness. His soul can't lie, not to Cas, and all of his weaknesses come out to be reassured. Cas, he never judges. His Grace sweeps through and washes away the stains and shadows.

He's on the edge, about to jizz his brain. Or his soul. Maybe he'll jizz his pants too, he just doesn't know. He has no idea where the pleasure will explode next, whether or not he'll lose his intelligence, his insanity, or his very being.

And then Cas says it, directly into the core of his soul, and his Grace is wrapped so tightly around him that he can not doubt the words for a nanosecond. 'I love you, Dean Winchester. Through Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, and the Apocalypse, I will always love you most.'

He cries out, both within and outwardly. He throws his head back and everything in him clenches, the front of his jeans turning wet and sticky. A fine sheen of sweat covers his skin and his brain is a confused mesh of thoughts, things going round and round in his mind that he doesn't even care to make sense of.

His very essence is still within the cradle of Cas's Grace and he contents with letting himself float there, safe and secure, very warm.

Limp in the aftermath, he lets Cas continue his soft exploration, his loving tendrils of Grace that are still probing everything Dean is.

The angel lets out a choked groan when he reaches his own climax. Though he doesn't jizz his pants, Dean takes pride in knowing that he blew his mind and his Grace trembles a bit as it loses its tension.

"That was… that was good," Dean murmurs.

"Just good?" Cas asks and it's obvious by his tone of voice that he's caught on to a few of Dean's habits, such as teasing.

"You blew me away, baby."

Cas grins in that small, subtle way of his. He holds Dean to him, lying on his back now, and the hunter is across his chest. "I felt it. I felt you coming apart and it was glorious."

"'Course it was," he slurs, because he's a little tired by now. No one has an orgasm that freakin' epic and survives the night. "'Felt you too."

"I feel your soul becomes greedier every time I enter you."

Doesn't that sound hot? "Every time I enter you" and Dean shivers as he imagines Cas actually entering him, physically, and he thinks of his ass flesh ripping and the gratifying push and pull of something thick and long inside of him.

But he's never felt that before, so it sounds to him to be a bit scary, something he decides he can live without considering everything he has lived through and everything he hopes to never have to live through.

Cas kisses him one last time and it's sloppy 'cause Dean isn't really paying attention, already half-asleep. "Good night, Dean. I will lead you through the night without dreams."

He sighs and he tries to say it, tries so hard, but his throat closes on him and he swallows thickly. He just has to believe that Cas doesn't need him to say it, that the bits of Grace still inside of him guarantee that his lover can never question him.

The angel smiles that small smile again. "I love you too, Dean."

That's all he needs. He shuts his eyes and he's out like a light bulb.

When he wakes up, Sam is in the opposite bed, sleeping. Dean is alone.

Except for the parts of Cas that are still inside of him, bright and hot.

So, really, never truly alone.