Nightmares and Fantasies

Disclaimers: No infringement is intended.

Blood. Bright red where it still ran and darker, almost brown where dried puddles and sprays decorated the walls and floor. The harsh coppery scent of it, so strong that it was a taste. Body warm when it was fresh, and cold, chilling, as time passed and it thickened.

And its companions: the screams of pain; the wails; the scent of sweat, fear, anger, terror, rage, hopelessness—they all filled every facet of Dean’s existence until he began to believe that the memories of anything else were just a dream, a cruel hoax meant to torment him further as he tortured others.

This was all there was—hell—at least until a light cut through the bloody glare, resolving into a warm, white glow that illuminated the cream-colored walls of a large, open room. A large, unlit fireplace with a fieldstone hearth took up most of one wall while windows that looked out on snow-capped mountains took up most of the second and third. The forth wall was occupied by a massive bed covered in a mound of pristine white linens.

Hands closed on Dean’s shoulders from behind, grasping and removing his battered leather jacket. Dean’s eyes flew open at the touch, and he jerked out of the nightmare—the memories—to stare up at the angel. "Cas?" He sounded as befuddled as he felt.

"Yes," the angel’s voice was low and calm as he placed the jacket on a nearby chair. He straightened, and his arms encircled Dean from behind, his hands slipping beneath his faded plaid shirt to stroke over his stomach and chest, his palms warm through the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

"Wha—" Dean stopped, took a deep breath, and started again. "How did I get here?" And why are you petting me? he thought but didn’t say.

"You were... distressed; I sought to bring you to somewhere more pleasant." Castiel’s hand slipped beneath Dean’s shirt at that, stroking over the rock hard planes of his　stomach.

"If you ever get tired of being an angel, you could always become an interior decorator," Dean said, looking around to try to distract himself from the warm hand on his abdomen and his inevitable reaction to it.

"I believe I have other talents," the angel murmured, breathing the words against Dean’s ear.

Dean’s eyes widened. "You seem to have some I’d never have guessed at for an angel."

"So you claim to know everything about us?" Castiel asked, a hint of amusement coloring his tone as his other hand began stroking over Dean’s chest and stomach as well.

"Obviously not. Aren’t you supposed to be all chaste?" Dean asked, catching his breath as a fingernail grazed a nipple.

There was a shrug from the form behind him, and Castiel’s fingers closed around Dean’s nipple, rubbing the now peaked flesh.

"Oh God," Dean groaned, arching his back. "I think I’m ready for the advanced course on angels now," he panted, his hands falling to Castiel’s thighs and kneading the firm muscles urgently. The body behind his pressed closer, and a hand slid lower to cup and knead his groin even as Castiel’s lips brushed against his ear.

"Relax and enjoy."

Dean could only moan and thrust up against Castiel’s palm, his body sensitized to every touch, every breath, the angel working at the button and zipper of his jeans, then slipping inside to palm the smooth, hot flesh at the same time as Castiel’s tongue pressed into Dean’s ear.

"Cas." Dean moaned the name, his head falling back against Castiel’s shoulder as he gave himself up to the angel’s expert hands and mouth.

"I’m here with you, Dean," Castiel murmured before sucking on the shell of Dean’s ear as he stroked his shaft.

"Feels so good," Dean whispered, sounding surprised that anything could. "Want this, wanted this," he said brokenly.

"I’m here; you have it, me." The hand in Dean’s pants twisted as Castiel turned him around, taking his mouth in a slow, consuming kiss, and Dean whimpered softly into Castiel’s mouth, his arms going around the angel as he gave himself up to the care of another being, trusting Castiel to give him what he needed.

The angel’s tongue slid against his as strong fingers closed around his cock again, the grip tightening, then easing as the rhythm sped up, his thumb gliding over the head of Dean’s cock, rubbing the droplets of precome over the satiny skin. Dean shuddered, the sensations coursing through him, and he finally began to take a more active role, his fingers moving to the buttons on Castiel’s shirt as he sought to touch the angel.

"Dean, yes," The words were a breathy moan against his mouth, one that turned throaty as Dean’s fingers touched his skin.

"Yes," Dean repeated, one hand pressed flat to Castiel’s chest while the other unknotted the loose tie so he could push the shirt off Castiel’s shoulders. "So beautiful," he praised, drinking in the sight.

Castiel pulled his hand from Dean’s pants at that and grabbed his shirts, yanking them over his head and tossing them to the floor before pushing Dean back toward the bed, his blue eyes alive with hunger and need.

"Oh yes," Dean whispered, allowing Castiel to tumble him onto his back. He sprawled in the center of the bed, arms and legs akimbo, and licked his lips as he watched Cas, waiting.

"Beautiful," Castiel whispered, echoing Dean’s words as he pressed a line of licking kisses up Dean’s midline, ending at the hollow of his throat.

"That’s you. Don’t know what I did to deserve this, but not letting you go now," Dean murmured, wrapping his arms around Castiel to stroke his back.

"Shhh," Castiel whispered before kissing him again as he arched down against Dean’s body.

"Cas." The single syllable was the only sound Dean uttered before his eyes fluttered closed and he curled one leg over Castiel’s hip, opening himself to whatever the angel might choose to do.

Castiel’s expression could only be described as reverent as he leaned in and kissed the center of Dean’s chest. His hands closed on Dean’s shoulders, the left one covering the mark branded on Dean’s skin as he licked the place he had kissed, working his way over to a nipple and laving the peaked flesh.

The touch of Castiel’s palm to the print on Dean’s arm had him shivering with reaction, and the tremors only grew more pronounced when Castiel began to toy with a nipple. Dean moaned softly, the needy sound sharp in the quiet room, and his back arched as he sought more, which the angel gave, tasting his way across Dean’s chest to suckle on the neglected nipple, then making his way downward, exploring the hills and valleys of his ribs and blowing a hot breath over his navel.

"God, Cas," Dean groaned, his hands now resting on Castiel’s shoulders where they gripped tightly. Neither of them showed the slightest hesitation, instead concentrating on each other and what they were feeling. "Want you."

Castiel’s hands slid from Dean’s shoulders, gliding along his sides to settle at his hips at the exact moment the angel closed his mouth over the head of Dean’s shaft, licking away the precome that had gathered at the slit and swallowing it down.

Dean wailed and thrust abortively before he forced himself flat again. "That’s one hell of native talent you’ve got there," he panted, dragging his eyes open again to stare down at Castiel’s head at his groin, the angel sucking harder in response, taking Dean to the brink before slowly pulling back to trail his lips lower.

Whimpering softly, Dean jerked his hips, begging wordlessly for more, and Castiel complied, sucking at his balls until they drew up close to his body as a single finger traced over the tight entrance below.

"Yes, please," Dean pleaded, squirming hungrily, and the finger slipped inside him, stretching the tight muscle but not to the point of pain.

"You feel so perfect," he rasped, looking up into Cas’ blue eyes. "More."

Castiel nodded, Dean’s now damp balls falling from his mouth as he licked the flesh tightly stretched around his finger, waiting until it loosened before adding a second.

"Wanted this for so long," Dean whispered, "but never thought I could have it." He shivered and moaned as Castiel slowly worked him open. A kiss to the thin skin of his inner thigh was his only answer as Castiel’s fingers pressed deeper, finally brushing against the gland deep within him.

"Oh Christ," Dean cried, clenching down hard on Castiel’s fingers. "God, fuck me, Cas."

"Whatever you want," Castiel murmured as he crawled up and over Dean’s prone body, his fingers sliding free of his clinging ass with a wet pop. Dean’s legs hooked around his lower back, and then Cas was inside him, sliding inexorably inward until he finally bottomed out, and all the while he was staring down into Dean’s face as if memorizing his every reaction.

"Cas," Dean whispered, his eyes falling half closed as he concentrated on the sensation of Castiel filling him, an expression of bliss on his face.

"Enjoy," Castiel whispered before kissing him again as they moved together, Dean’ cock rubbing between their bodies.

"Fuck yeah," Dean panted against his lips, raising a hand to catch one of Castiel’s and interlace their fingers. At the same time their fingers linked together, Castiel’s free hand closed on Dean’s shoulder again, and he thrust forward, his cock sliding across Dean’s prostate over and over.

Dean wailed and shook, overwhelming pleasure running through him. He began to move faster, every nerve in his body strung tight with tension, and then he cried out sharply as hot liquid puddled between them.

Dean opened his eyes to see Castiel’s face, blinking hard as he found himself staring up at the beige ceiling of the motel room he’d gone to sleep in. He sat bolt upright, looking around, and his shoulders slumped when he realized he was alone—and decidedly sticky. "Just a dream," he murmured, sounding disappointed.

"Castiel, were you even listening to me?" Uriel’s tone was dark and dangerous, causing Castiel to blink and focus on the other man.

"I am sorry, I was... thinking."

"I said that you were growing too close to your charge. You had better be careful."

"I understand your concern, brother, and I will be careful."