eternalsojourn: Legs (Legs)
[personal profile] eternalsojourn
This is my first Supernatural fic and I’m wrestling with things like characterization, writing actual fiction as opposed to the heavy non-fiction I’ve been working on for the past while, and returning to porn after having a baby which has its own mindfuckery. These are not excuses because this fic is what it is and I don’t think porn should ever require an apology for existing. I’m just in full on mulling-over-my-own-limitations mode.

Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Word Count: 3024
Warnings: None
Summary: Dean gets injured on a job and Cas heals him. Cas misses the finer distinction between helping and “helping” while he’s tooling around inside Dean’s body.
A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic and I’m wrestling with things like characterization, writing actual fiction as opposed to the heavy non-fiction I’ve been working on for the past while, and returning to porn after having a baby which has its own mindfuckery. These are not excuses because this fic is what it is and I don’t think porn should ever require an apology for existing. I’m just in full on mulling-over-my-own-limitations mode.
Beta: '[livejournal.com profile] night_reveals

Heal Me



The worst part about the whole job was how mundane it was. Standard vengeful spirit — a woman killed by her abusive, unjustly jealous husband. It should have been done and dusted, easy. Dean had just been thinking he could probably keep busy on vengeful abused women alone, as he burned and salted her bones, when he was hurled 15 feet into a tree. It was so unexpected he didn’t even have time to protect his core and he hit the trunk ribs-first.

Sam managed to swipe at the ghost of the woman’s teenaged son — rookie mistake, missing that second murder — while Dean laid broken at the foot of the tree. Dean had tried to shake it off, to tell Sam there was no way he was going to let Sam take care of the son’s bones on his own. But the fact was, Dean really was quite badly hurt and he thought he might be bleeding inside.

And so it was he found himself alone in the motel, unable to even reach the magic fingers’ on-switch while Sam was out doing their job alone. It was when Dean tried to reach for the remote control to take his mind off things that he realized the extent of his injury as the small stretch nearly made him pass out.

Awesome,” he thought wryly. With a resigned closing of his eyes and a cautious, shallow sigh, he prayed. “Cas,” he said out loud. “You there? ‘Cause I could use a bit of that angel mojo right about now.”

Nothing.

“Cas, come on. I know you can hear me.”

“I do have other things going on, Dean.”

“But here you are,” said Dean smugly.

Without conceding the point, Cas stared placidly at Dean for a moment. “You’re lying down strangely. You’re hurt.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, trying to sit up before remembering why he couldn’t and wincing so hard he had to swallow down a shout.

In a heartbeat, Cas was at Dean’s side, holding him still by the shoulder with one hand and placing two fingers from his other hand on Dean’s forehead.

The relief was immediate and total: the ribs shifted back into position and bonded together like new, and the soft tissues inside knitted up. Dean let out the breath he’d been holding at half strength, relishing the ability to fully deflate and inflate his lungs. He gave a thought to sitting up when he realized Cas’s fingers were still on him. He opened one eye and looked up but Cas wasn’t looking at him. Instead Cas looked distant, focusing inwardly.

Dean’s other eye snapped open when he felt a strange itching tingle on his shin where he’d had a scar for many years.

“Cas,” he said. “What are you — I’m healed, thanks. That’s…”

A new sensation stopped his thoughts as the muscles between his shoulders squeezed and then relaxed, and then relaxed some more, and then some more. They were more relaxed than he’d ever remembered them being. Dean dropped his head back into the pillow and groaned softly.

He cleared his throat in a vain attempt to cover the noise and jerked his head out from under Cas’s fingers.

Cas looked at Dean mildly, his concern writ on his face. “Was that… unpleasant?”

“What? No, it’s not that, it’s... What was that about?”

“After I fixed your injury, I saw other things. I thought I could help.”

Cas always had a way of making things sound so simple when they weren’t, and the breadth of things Cas needed to have explained to him about what humans could and couldn’t do was too big. Dean was lost for words.

“I wasn’t finished,” Cas offered, as though giving Dean a massage from the inside was a perfectly ordinary, acceptable thing for him to do. And the worst part was, he was only trying to help. He was only ever trying to help.

“Okay,” Dean said, in complete contrast to what he meant to say, which was something about how Cas couldn’t do stuff like this. But actually it had felt really good and Cas did say he wasn’t done, and Dean was frankly curious what else was tense or wrong or broken about him that he’d learned to live with.

The fingers were back and this time Dean felt something settle in his knee on the side that sometimes twinged when he sprinted. He marveled at how much Cas knew about human anatomy.

His feet warmed and relaxed, followed by his ankles. Dean had seen some weird shit in his day but stuff like this — Cas knowing stuff about him and being inside his head, inside his body — never got any easier to take. But this wasn’t exactly like being dragged out of hell or dreamwalking with his brother. Every freaky out-of-body (or way-inside-body? Whatever) experience Dean had had been in full on crisis mode. Dean’d never had anything quite so… relaxing before.

Paying half of his attention to his calves (and goddamn, his calf muscles shouldn’t be giving him this much pleasure), Dean found his mind wandering. Cas had been on Earth many times before. How many people had he healed? How much did he know about human bodies? He’d had to have been in one every time. Did he only possess men? Probably not. He didn’t need food or sleep. What about other things? Did he ever sleep for pleasure?

Something big shifted in his hip with a satisfying pop. Then every vertebrae just kind of settled and Dean had the urge to wriggle deeper into the bed, but all he did was sigh.

Did Cas ever do human things for pleasure? He sure seemed to enjoy being among humans. Dean thought suddenly of that kiss with Meg. Was that Cas’s first? After watching that (frankly wretched) pizza man porno, did Cas ever… rub one out? An image popped fully formed into Dean’s head of Cas tugging his cock in the dark of night, that rumbling voice letting go a moan.

To Dean’s horror, he felt a twitch down below. Cas had a way of making Dean hyper-conscious of the more undignified aspects of his own humanity, which maybe explained why Dean was so fascinated with the thought of Cas dealing with his own human needs.

He cleared his throat again and tried to think of unsexy things. Unfortunately nothing sprung to mind. So instead he tried to focus on what Cas was fixing. He did a quick internal body scan but nothing was happening. Had Cas noticed the dick twitch?

Before he could do or say anything, Dean felt a warmth of blood rushing downwards, an awareness of nerve endings not just on his skin but inside. A soft pulsing sensation stroked some sensitive spot deep inside him, causing his dick to swell. At almost the same moment he became aware of his lips, a faint tingle so familiar from those perfect moments before closing the deal with the women he’d been with.

He yanked his head out from under Cas’s fingers again and hurriedly shifted away a few inches, towards the centre of the bed. Propped up on one elbow, he shot Cas an incredulous look.

“Really, Cas? What the hell was that?”

“Which thing are you referring to, Dean?” Cas rumbled. If Dean thought that stepping outside of himself to experience the reality of Cas would stop the process of what his body thought was happening, he was wrong. That voice was too familiar, too appropriate. When Dean didn’t answer, Cas took a guess at what Dean had meant. “I noticed you had some… physical reaction and I thought I’d help you along.”

I? I had a physical reaction? No, no, that was all your doing,” Dean replied.

“No, I believe you had some physiological —”

“Just shut up.” Dean was still reeling from the shock of it, still aroused because his body felt that damned good, and heart thumping from a mixture of the two.

Seeing the slightly hurt but mostly baffled expression on Cas’s face, Dean found himself staring at Cas’s lips, his own still tingling and flushed, and Dean did what he’d become a master at doing — he shut off any line of thought that contradicted what he knew to be right, right down to his bones. He grabbed Cas’s lapel and yanked him closer, causing Cas to lose balance and kneel clumsily on the bed beside Dean.

“There’s a right way to do something like this, and it ain’t reaching inside someone with your mind or… soul. Whatever,” Dean said. “It’s supposed to be messy and sweaty and. Well…” He thought for a second, then thought better of thinking and pulled Cas in for a kiss.

Dean made it dirty from the start, licking in and seeking Cas’s tongue to tease it out, pulling him so firmly by the lapels of his trenchcoat that Cas couldn’t have withdrawn if he tried. But he wasn’t trying, not in the slightest. The surprise of it had Cas hesitating for a second, but it didn’t take much teasing for him to follow suit and lick back. Cas may have been a bit clueless about the finer points of social interaction, but he was a fast learner and when he kissed back, it was deep, wet, and thorough.

Dean allowed himself a moment of surprise before resuming his customary role. He rolled Cas over so Dean could press him down and kiss him like if he could do it well enough and thoroughly enough, he’d burn this one night into his conquest’s memory. But it wasn’t a conquest, and this wasn’t a girl from the local dive bar, which he found impossible to forget for the sole fact of how Cas felt. His scruff, for starters, was harsh on Dean’s face, and his smell so utterly different: heavy and dark. Though he didn’t want to look at it too closely, Dean found those details stirring up a rumbling need in him.

he way Cas clung to him, rucking up Dean’s shirt and placing firm, strong hands on his hips had Dean desperate to see how far this push and pull could go. Dean was used to sheathing his strength, tempering it. But with Cas he didn’t have to and that had Dean as revved up as if he were about to deep six some monster.

Dean tucked his thigh between Cas’s legs and the groan this elicited had Dean closing his eyes involuntarily. He rutted his own uncomfortably-confined cock against Cas for a few mindless moments, not even realizing he’d stopped kissing until he heard Cas say, “Dean.”

Dean frowned, really not wanting to stop and risk losing momentum because if…

“Dean. I can’t reach your…” and Cas tugged the hem of Dean’s jeans to indicate what he’d been trying to do while Dean had been rutting. Dean huffed a laugh and lifted off enough to unzip and open his jeans enough for access. Noting that Cas hadn’t done his own, Dean paused. He ran his thumb gently over Cas’s clothed erection, tracing the outline of it and asking the question with a look. Cas held his breath as Dean touched him, then let it out softly and nodded, mouth open and looking as hungry and desperate as Dean had ever seen another man look.

Grabbing another kiss to steal Cas’s breath away once more (and, if he was honest, so he wouldn’t have to look at Cas’s face and be reminded of the reality of what he was doing), Dean deftly undid Cas’s pants and slid his hand inside, nothing between him and Cas but a thin layer of cotton. Aside from it being a bit surreal touching someone else’s dick, this was actually familiar territory.

Cas’s erection was at full mast, reaching up to his waistband. Dean lifted the elastic out of the way only enough to run his finger over Cas’s cockhead, smearing a drop of precome around the smooth, reddened flesh. Both of them looked down, breaths mingling in the quiet of the room as Dean continued to swirl the droplet around. He wondered what it tasted like, but wasn’t quite ready for that yet. When Cas glanced up, licking his bottom lip, Dean caught his eye and grinned lopsidedly before nipping at Cas’s lower lip with his teeth and returning to kissing. Abandoning his teasing, light touches, he moved Cas’s waistband down and out of the way so he could grasp Cas’s erection fully and begin moving his hand steadily in the way he liked to jack himself when he really just wanted to get off already. Cas grunted into Dean’s mouth but didn’t stop kissing. Indeed he intensified his response and began pulsing his hips up in time with Dean’s motion.

It didn’t take long before Cas was uttering puffs of needful sounds and pressing up into Dean’s grip faster. Reading the signs easily, Dean increased the pressure and pace, finding himself rutting in time as though he were as close as Cas. When Cas stiffened he dropped his forehead to Dean’s shoulder, shuddering out his orgasm and spilling over Dean’s fingers.

“All right?” said Dean when Cas had got his breath back. He was curious if that was Cas’s first or if Cas had taken care of himself since he’d been on Earth, but he didn’t ask. For some reason that seemed to cross a line.

Cas smiled, dazed and shaky. “Yes, thank you. I’m fine. That was pleasurable.”

Dean could have laughed at the statement because, well, obviously. And from anybody else it would be damning with faint praise, but this was Cas. Dean felt kind of protective of Cas’s limited experience and weirdly proud at being the one to introduce Cas to something new. But a twinge of disappointment panged in Dean’s chest when he realized they were probably done.

But then Cas slid his hand across Dean’s stomach, dipping his fingers just inside Dean’s boxers. He backed out but only to push Dean’s shoulder to switch positions. Dean quirked his lips in amused acknowledgment and allowed the push, enjoying the novel feeling of being manhandled.

The feel of Cas’s hand grasping his dick was odd: strong, large, a little bit rough. Nothing at all like the soft, manicured hands he was used to, nor his own utilitarian grip. Dean was just about to doubt his ability to regain momentum when Cas shifted to straddle Dean’s leg, kneeling up enough to free both hands. He continued to stroke Dean’s cock slowly and traced the fingers of his other hand over the planes of Dean’s stomach, his chest, and up over his collar bone. He slipped his hand onto Dean’s neck, stroking his jaw with one rough thumb before gripping lightly and holding Dean still for a kiss. Dean had been so prepared to be in charge of these proceedings — inasmuch as he was prepared at all — that he was thrown by Cas’s confident ministrations. It was almost a relief to let himself go, letting himself be kissed and feeling positively secure with that hand at the base of his skull.

As good as it felt having a grip on his cock, as Dean got closer he knew he needed more. Not trusting he had the words, he placed his hand over Cas’s and stroked with him. Cas looked down at the pair of them moving together and Dean closed his eyes, letting himself get carried away on a wave of mindlessness. Cas was leaning his weight on Dean and that helped, keeping Dean solid, grounded, very much there and when Dean came it was with a release he usually reserved for his solo sessions in which he accessed his deepest, most secret fantasies.

When Dean came back to his senses, Cas was already easing himself off Dean’s body and rubbing his come-covered fingers together. Dean smirked and cleaned his own hand on the sheet. Cas raised an eyebrow before getting up and going to the bathroom.

Not bothering to move from the bed, Dean said, “Hey, Cas. You keep this between us, you hear?”

“Is this the sort of experience people usually share with others?” Cas asked, turning on the water at the sink.

“No,” Dean admitted. “Just don’t mention it again. Ever.”

“Are you experiencing regret?” Cas asked over the sound of the water, in that way he had of making it sound like a simple question without judgment. Didn’t make the question any less loaded.

Dean’s first reaction was to get defensive, but a flash of a memory caught him before he could reply. In the midst of the whole… proceedings, he had thought about tasting Cas’s precome. But somewhere in his head he’d put it on the backburner for next time, and hadn’t even registered that “next time” was a possibility in his head. He doubted Cas was in it for a one night stand, though what Cas thought was a complete mystery. There were frankly way too many questions for Dean to deal with in his post-coital state.

“It’s just private, okay?” Dean settled for. “What happened here between you and me is between you and me. It’s not anybody else’s business.”

Cas shut off the water and walked in drying his hands on a hand towel. He gave Dean a long, measuring stare. It was unsettling because in some ways Cas was naive beyond belief, but in other ways his understanding of Dean as a human being was too close to the mark.

“I won’t speak to anyone about this,” was all Cas said.

“Thanks,” said Dean. “For the other stuff too.” Dean’s eyes went big and he hurriedly added, “the healing stuff.”

Cas waited a beat, unreadable. Then, “Of course,” like what they just did was just a friend helping out a friend who got injured on the job. Natural. But Dean could swear Cas had a small, pleased smile as he turned to return the towel to the rack.

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eternalsojourn

February 2015

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