AN: So... first post, first attempt at a lemon, or any kind of porn really. Just to warn, it's a bit dub-con (rated M for a reason!) at first, but it ends fluffy. Review and let me know what you think :) I'm actually kind of nervous posting this... (BLUSHBLUSHBLUSH) .._.. I usually don't write smut (I blushed so many times writing this)

Things were almost going too smoothly, and that was never a good sign.

Dean Winchester stalked through the lower levels of the decrepit old plantation house on the outskirts of Baton Rouge, trying not to breath in too much of the musty air that reeked of mildew and century-old dust. They were on the hunt for a voodoan priestess on a discreet request from the property owner, one Philipe Gregoire. Mr Gregoire was clued in, which was a plus when working on cases that involved private property - at least they wouldn't have to be breaking and entering.

Gregoire had been trying for months to renovate the old three-storey mansion to no avail; every team of contractors he'd sent in had all but run out screaming about a witch or a ghost attacking them in the root cellar as well as the dining hall and the attic. Details were sketchy, but it all pointed to one hell of a vicious haunting.

Sam had opted to take the attic, and they'd both work their way back to the ground floor.

With his sawed-off shotgun in hand, flashlight taped to what remained of the barrel, Dean crept from the wine cellar into the earthen floored sub level, occasionally dodging the odd petrified turnip or garland of garlic as he made his way toward the back.

As he turned to avoid a burlap sack full of ancient onion dust, he smacked face-first into another, sickly-sweet smelling powder exploding all over him as the sack's weak seams burst on the impact.

"Son of a-" Dean sneezed, trying to dust the crap out of his hair, wiping at his face and sputtering.

Disgruntled but able to see again a few moments later, he trudged onward toward his goal; an old furnace that he had seen in the building plans that he thought might house the remains of a young slave woman who local legend said had been violated and brutally murdered by the house's first owner, accounting for the haunting.

After a few steps, Dean began to feel strange; his skin felt hot and his breathing quickened, his knees weakening as his heart began to stutter, blood rushing through his veins. His stomach did a flip and there was a very disconcerting pressure in his jeans...

"The fuck was that shit," he panted, leaning his shoulder against a support pillar as his free hand went almost absently to his crotch.

His vision pulsed as his cock jumped at the attention, swelling to the touch so quickly it fucking hurt. A groan that straddled the line between pain and pleasure fell from his lips as he ground his teeth, a sliver of panic bubbling up in his chest.

"Fuckin' dick's going to explode," he whimpered, pressing the heel of his hand against his sudden, unwelcome erection in an effort to relieve some of the pressure.

He could call for Sam - he had cell service even down here in the cellar, but he paled at the thought of his brother finding him like this - nevermind the fact that he felt like he might jump the first warm body that he came in contact with. Fuck, what if Sam found him like this anyway? Or what if...

"Damn it, no," he gasped, pushing away thoughts of a certain beige trench coat and innocent, puzzled blue eyes. The last thing he needed right now was to scar his best friend slash guardian angel for life. Just thinking of the clueless angel popping in on him like this, what he might do, like grabbing him by that ridiculous backwards blue tie and throwing him against the nearest wall and fucking him right through it...

Dean shook his head, unconsciously working his palm against his throbbing length through his jeans. His eyes fluttered closed as his head rolled back, all thoughts of the hunt and whatever danger might be lurking down in the dark basement of the old house instantly flying out of his head as he hissed through his teeth, leaning back against the pillar as he bucked his hips forward.

"Cas," slipped from between his lips like a prayer as he imagined his fingers tangled in that just-fucked looking dark hair, tongue down that angelic throat as he ground his palm into his groin, imagining it instead as a hard, slacks-clad divine cock. However much pressure he applied, though, it still wasn't enough - he needed tight warmth, legs wrapped around his waist, perspiration-slick bodies sliding against each other as he fucked into his friend.

The imagery in his mind alone was almost enough to send him over. Almost, but still not quite enough.

"Hello De-" Castiel stood in the darkened cellar where Dean had summoned him, watching the scene before him with a sick sort of curiosity. He observed Dean, leaned back against a half rotted support, rubbing himself and moaning with abandon, shotgun and flashlight discarded at his feet. The angel watched as the other man worked at himself, lips parted, breath coming in harsh pants as he moaned the angel's name again.

Castiel shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably, wondering if he was intruding on Dean's 'personal space', but he couldn't bring himself to break away. He had seen Dean engage in this sort of behaviour previously, though usually not in what appeared to be the middle of a hunt, and never moaning the angel's name. He felt something coil tight within himself as Dean breathed his name again, still seeming unaware of the angel's presence as he popped the button of his jeans with his free hand, hissing through his teeth as he pulled free his reddened, throbbing member.

Castiel felt his slacks tightening as he watched, pink tongue darting out to moistened his suddenly very chapped lips. Something definitely seemed wrong with the image before him, and with effort he resolved to put a stop to it.

"Dean," he tried, stepping forward and putting his hands on the hunter's shoulders, "what's wrong?"

The look of panic in Dean's eyes was so brief it might have gone unnoticed by anyone other than an angel of the Lord, replaced almost instantly with heady lust.

A moment later the hunter was upon the angel, grinding against Castiel's hip as his own stuttered wildly, desperately seeking friction as his hands groped at the heavy overcoat, all but ripping it off.

"D-Dean..." Castiel questioned, not entirely certain what to make of the sudden assault, but his inquiry was cut short as Dean caught his lips in a heated kiss.

Unsure, but rather liking the sensations that this contact was eliciting, Castiel inexpertly returned the sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, hands placed tentatively on the hunter's chest.

Dean broke away, panting, breathless, whispering heatedly in the angel's ear, "Cas... God, Cas... fuck, I- tell me... make me stop, you don't... you don't want... I can't..."

The reprieve was short lived as Dean turned his ministrations to Castiel's throat, a whimper escaping him as he nipped at the pale, tender flesh, tearing open the white button down that covered the angel's torso.

Castiel didn't know what to think other than this is pleasant, purely physical sensations that were generally a mystery to him flooding his nervous system. He became painfully aware of the strain in his trousers, the way Dean's own hardness pulsed alongside his own, the intoxicating warmth and the scent of the man once again attempting to smother him with his mouth gripped his thoughts and tossed them aside as Dean's hands slipped beneath the rumpled white shirt, stripping away his tie as he backed the angel into the nearest wall.

Castiel let a moan pass into Dean's mouth, creating a chain reaction of passionate groping that somehow resulted in both of them completely nude, laying on the beige trench coat on the grimy earthen floor of the cellar.

Dean felt overwhelmed. He knew on a base level that Cas could push him away; he had even made a feeble attempt to warn the angel, but Castiel remained, and even seemed to be reciprocating. His head was buzzing as he gripped both of their throbbing cocks in his hand, his head falling forward against the angel's shoulder as a moan rattled it's way out of his core.

Cas felt so good, and he wasn't even fucking him. Yet. He wasn't fucking him yet. Oh God, it was painful - the need that never seemed to feel sated, his balls felt like they were twisting in a vise, his cock straining, so fucking hard as he ground into the other man's pelvis that he thought it was going to split in half. He needed, and Cas... fuck Cas looked so fucking hot, all flushed and panting, and Jesus Christ he really seemed to be getting into it, too.

Castiel was beginning to understand what all the fuss was about copulation. He was not naive to the act, even as it pertained to two males, but he had never engaged. That it was with Dean felt purposeful, even if Dean was not quite in his right state of mind, and so he allowed it, allowing himself to enjoy the experience. He felt his hips buck up of their own accord as Dean gripped him tightly in his fist, pressed against his own hard organ, both steadily leaking precum from their swollen tips.

Cas let out a moan as Dean's finger swept across the head of his cock, milking their combined wetness onto his fingers and then lowering them to the angel's entrance.

Dean broke away from Castiel's lips just long enough to catch his breath before attacking his throat, placing feverish little kisses along his collarbone and sucking a mark into the joining of his neck and shoulder as he slipped a finger inside of Castiel. He felt the angel tense at the intrusion, but dammit he needed this...

It didn't take long before Cas was a writhing, gooey mess beneath the hunter, Dean's fingers curling against the angel's prostate as he pressed their hips together, giving just enough friction to keep his angel distracted.

Castiel whimpered beautifully as Dean pulled his fingers out, using his own leaking fluids to lubricate himself as he drew back, settling himself between Cas' legs. Cas had an idea what was to happen next, but it couldn't prepare him for the abrupt penetration as Dean thrust into him fully, taking him all at once.

The angel let out a cry of mingled surprise and pain, wrapping his legs around his hunter's waist, fingernails digging into the freckled flesh of his back. He thought that Dean might be weeping as he drew back, only to thrust in again harder, striking against a spot that made Castiel see stars.

"Dean!" he cried out, curling his spine so that Dean's cock would hit that glorious place again.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean half-growled, half-sobbed into the angel's ear, "I'm gonna fuck you right through the ground... God... so fucking good..."

Castiel's breath hitched, his cock aching from the lack of attention. He writhed again beneath his hunter and Dean seemed to understand. gripping his dick in one calloused hand as he pistoned into the angel beneath him, stroking him roughly as the pressure in his groin spiked, his balls drawing tight as his pace stuttered.

Castiel came first, screaming Dean's name and somewhere the hunter could hear glass shattering and electricity sizzling in the wake of a wave of what he could only describe as presence washed over him, rattling the foundations of the house.

For a panicked moment, Dean thought that it would never end, that whatever that crap he'd walked into would just make him desperate to fuck into his best friend until his fucking heart exploded - and then his own orgasm hit him like a fucking caravan of semi-trucks hauling other semi-trucks with fucking A-bombs strapped to them.

Dean cried out, burying his face in his friend's shoulder as he let out spurt after spurt of hot jizz into Castiel, his hips stuttering as the horrible pent-up pressure finally released itself from his groin, exploding in pleasure more intense than he'd ever felt.

Reality crept back in slowly, relief and euphoria replaced by a ton of falling bricks' worth of horror and shame. Had he really just violated his best friend? His angel, VIRGIN best friend? Dean was afraid to look up, because looking up would make it real, and if he could just stay buried then none of that had just happened, he could just cease to exist down here in the dark after what was arguably the most mind-blowing, if not most disturbing sex of his entire fucking life. If he looked up now, saw what he'd done, he'd just fucking lose it right there.

A contented hum drew him from his quickly spiraling descent into self-loathing, followed by fingers working through his short, spiked hair.

"Cas?" his voice broke on the lone syllable, afraid he was imagining this.

"Hmm..." came the lazy, fucked-out reply. Castiel was dazed, every inch of his flesh buzzing with pleasure. He had never anticipated such sensation, and now knew why humans seemed to be so caught up on the act of fornication. It was glorious, truly his Father's greatest gift to his favourite creation.

Dean swallowed hard, lifting himself up on his shaking arms to face what he'd done. Castiel looked thoroughly blissed out, lips red and kiss-swollen, skin flushed and glistening with a post-coital sheen, eyes half-lidded and hair in worse disarray than usual.

"You uh," he murmured, dropping his gaze, "why didn't you..."

"I have been curious," Castiel murmured into the hunter's ear, "what it would be like. More specifically, what it would be like with you."

Dean felt something flutter in his abdomen, his traitorous cock becoming very interested in the topic as it attempted to rise to the occasion again, still inside the fucked-out angel. He groaned, burying his face in the angel's shoulder. If anything, he couldn't deny that it had been fucking amazing, albeit really fucking disturbing. His hips gave a stutter and Castiel inhaled sharply, lifting his hips as he let his breath out in a thready moan.

"So..." Dean said before he even knew what he was asking, "so you're..."

"I'm fine, Dean," Castiel promised, nuzzling behind Dean's ear in a bizarre, uncharacteristic display of affection, "If I did not wish to allow it, I would not have."

Dean hissed through his teeth as Castiel caught his earlobe between his teeth, nipping lightly at the soft flesh and Dean thrust his half-hard dick deeper into his friend, feeling the angel's own hardening member press against his belly.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean breathed. That voice, so close to his ear, it did things to him. Things he didn't want to think about. His head was buzzing again, but this time it wasn't so unpleasant.

Castiel was a quick learner, latching onto Dean's throat and sucking on the flesh, grazing lightly with his teeth the way Dean had done. Dean thrust forward again in response, feeling Castiel's tightness squeezing around him once more as his cock reached full hardness again.

His thoughts were conflicting, but he couldn't deny that it was the most amazing sex he'd ever had. He was torn; he wasn't gay, he'd never had a consciously homo-erotic thought in his life, but as he lifted himself up again, staring into Castiel's lust-blown eyes, he couldn't help but thing to himself that Cas was fucking beautiful all laid out beneath him, body begging to be pounded into.

"I want you to fuck me like you fuck your whores," Castiel growled, low and sensual into the hunter's ear, and Dean did lose it then, hitching Castiel's right leg over his shoulder, leaning forward on his right palm as he held the angel's left leg at his waist, capturing Castiel's lips again as he sheathed himself in the other man again and again.

It was even better the second time around; he took his time, consciously making the effort to strike Castiel's sweet spot with each thrust, feeling the angel's slick on his skin as his cock rubbed against his abdomen. He drew back, watching Castiel's face as it contorted in pleasure, eyes half-lidded and watching him back as he leaned his shoulders into the ground, bucking like a bronco beneath him.

He felt Castiel clench tight around him as the angel came, milking Dean's own orgasm from him at almost the same instant, both crying out in the throes of pleasure as they came down from their mutual high.

"Fucking hell, Cas..." Dean panted once he could draw sufficient oxygen to form syllables.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas murmured in his ear, "I understand that you were influenced in this, and if you do not wish to engage in this activity again-"

"Shut up, Cas," Dean retorted, enforcing his decree with a sloppy, exhausted kiss, "we're totally doing this again."

The angel could only smile.

Eventually Dean came to his senses, remembering why he'd been in the cellar to begin with. Castiel assisted, declaring he sensed no presence within the house, and then zapping them both to Sam.

Sam leaned against the side of the Impala, playing around on his smart phone when his brother and their friend appeared, both looking like they'd just run a marathon.

He raised an eyebrow questioningly, glancing between the other two. Dean hadn't even noticed when he'd come downstairs to look for him after clearing the entire upstairs on his own. He'd found the remains in the attic, where the worst attack had been, and dealt with it himself. The ghost hadn't presented too much of a problem, and the worst he'd walked away with was a bruise to his hip from when it had tossed him down the stairs.

He had gone down to the cellar, thinking Dean must have been fucked up pretty bad to not have come up after so long. He only made it about halfway down the stairs before he'd heard them, and had frozen in shock when he'd seen his brother and the angel tangled up on the floor, rolling around in the dirt together.

Castiel wore a look that Sam could only describe as smug and satiated, while Dean had turned bright fucking red, teeth clenched and pointedly not looking his brother in the eye.

"You guys good?" Sam asked, trying to assess the situation.

"Yes, Sam," Castiel replied for both of them, "we are, indeed, 'good'."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean snapped as his younger brother snickered, giving him a skeptical look.

"I didn't say anything," Sam said innocently, "not a single 'it's about freaking time', or 'I figured Cas would be the top', or 'thank God maybe you two will stop eye-fucking each other now'..."

Dean socked his brother in the arm and stomped around to the driver's side, wrenching the door open and dropping into the seat.

Castiel gave the younger Winchester a questioning, worried look.

"He'll be fine once he gets over his macho crisis," Sam explained.

"I see."

"Hey, Cas," Sam grinned, a light going off in his head, "why don't you take shotgun?"

The smile that spread across the angel's face was priceless, but the look on Dean's was worth twice as much as the angel slid in next to him, Sam taking the back.

"We really gonna do this, Sam?" the elder asked, though Sam could see the real question in his eyes; Are you okay with this, Sammy?

"Dude, just fucking drive. I'm starving," Sam bitched, leaning back with his arms across the back of the seat. "I did just pull a salt and burn by myself while my brother and his ange-"

"Shut up, Sam!" Dean burst, face turning red as he put the Impala into gear and tore away from that fucking house.

That night, Sam got his own motel room.