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TavrosGamzee

Shahara Dagan

L-Lover61

Desterek

Maddy Love Castiel

K-Y-L-EH-E

Gustin azza

Crowley's Suit

moonlitreader

Valeria Mesala

PineappleKing

JoseI'mYourFaza

A Midnight Charade

El-Nino1981

tiempo

Eva

Elene

LanaLady

sofknowseverything

Zana Zira (Thank you for beta reading the chapter!)

aLoggedInReader

So, this is the last chapter. I want to thank all of you who read, left reviews and favourited the story. In a few days I am starting my new multi chapter story Under The Falling Skies which many of you have been waiting for so long. I would really love if you follow, read and leave reviews for the new story just like you did with this fic. Stay tuned!

Love you all, you are all amazing!

6 months later

August 8, 2014, Santa Teresa, Costa Rica

Watching the ocean has become Dean's favourite thing to do. Especially on rainy days, when the beach is empty and no one will disturb his solitude; then he can sink deep into his thoughts and lose himself to oblivion, looking at the endless ocean.

It has been stormy and raining for three days, and now he watches the waves crash into the shore, where he's sitting in a chair sipping iced whiskey and unable to stop thinking about the blue-eyed man he lost six months ago in Lakewood, Ohio.

The reason Dean Winchester likes to watch the ocean is that this fathomless body of salty water can instantly take him to Castiel, connect him with the reporter mentally with unbreakable, invisible links without Dean even having to move from his chair.

Dean never followed Castiel to London. He could have but he didn't. There had been many reasons but the first and the most important was that Dean had started to doubt that the blue-eyed reporter would want to see him again after the refused kiss in the Impala. And it hurt a lot. Even the tons of alcohol weren't able to wash away the pain it had caused him.

Dean had moved to Santa Teresa, dropping out of the business with Crowley and settling down at his beach house in Costa Rica. He hadn't been with anyone after Castiel, not even drunken one-night stands. He just couldn't do it, not after he had tasted, smelled and felt the reporter in his arms.

Castiel's scent had always been intoxicating for Dean, arousing and baring his basic, raw instincts to claim and mark the brunet as his own. Even after so much time has passed he clearly remembers Castiel's scent, how sweet, teasing and delicious it used to be.

Dean closes his eyes and moans at the memories. He doesn't know how or why Castiel's scent is getting stronger. It's not like it could seep out of his memories, could it?

The werewolf is ready to make a frustrated grunt when suddenly his nose scrunches and Dean lets out a deafening sneeze. He even slightly jumps in his chair, spilling the drink.

"What the fuck?" Winchester growls. There definitely is a cat somewhere near him.

In what seems to be agreement there is an angry hissing, a muffled cat's scream and someone's reprimanding voice that sounds from behind Dean's back.

Dean's heart skips a beat as he jumps to his feet and turns around. It can't be true! A very ruffled and tired looking Castiel Novak with a backpack, holding Mr. Atkins in a carrier, is standing in front of him in the yellow sand of Santa Teresa.

The werewolf opens and closes his mouth, trying to say a word but his throat seems to be failing. "C-Cas…" he stammers finally.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel says in his gruff, deep voice. It sends chills down Dean's spine and his lips quirk into a small, almost invisible smile. The werewolf makes a few cautious steps towards the reporter, as if getting ready to pounce onto his prey. Castiel just keeps looking at him expectantly with his stupid, naïve blue eyes and Dean doesn't falter.

"You stupid son of a bitch," Dean murmurs, capturing the smaller man in a bone-crushing embrace as he buries his nose into Castiel's dark hair. "I missed you so much, Cas."

The carrier with Mr. Atkins falls out of Castiel's hand and the brunet hugs the werewolf tightly. "I missed you too, Dean. That's why I'm here."

Dean pulls away, catching Castiel's chin and looks him in the eyes. "Don't you ever, ever leave me again. You hear me, Cas?"

Castiel smiles. "I won't," he whispers. "I'm here to stay."

Castiel barely has time to put Mr. Atkins' carrier on the floor when they get inside Dean's enormous and very comfortable-looking house, when the werewolf presses himself to the brunet from behind.

"You like the place?" Dean's hot breath is tickling Castiel's neck as the werewolf's hand sneaks inside the brunet's khaki shorts and boxers, curling around the half-hard member.

"Dean," Castiel almost chokes, throwing his head back. Dean's touches had always made him lose control and melt like butter.

"Mm? What is it, Cas?" Dean rasps, biting Castiel's neck tenderly and grinding against the reporter's firm, round ass with his throbbing erection. "Did you miss this? Did you miss my touches? Because I did. I was dreaming of you, every night. Every damn night!"

The werewolf spins the brunet around, pushing his shorts and underwear down in a one go and Castiel quickly steps out of them, kicking them to god knows where. A few seconds and the brunet's black t-shirt joins the rest of the pile on the floor.

"Much better when you're naked," Dean pants, resting his hands on Castiel's buttocks, squeezing them firmly. "So much better."

Their kisses are heated, greedy and quick, as if afraid of lack of time. Castiel is clinging to Dean's still clothed body, shoving his tongue down the werewolf's throat and poking his crotch with his leaking, rock-hard member. His impatient "Please, Dean, oh, God, hurry up!" finally have effect on the werewolf and he stops teasing.

Spit-slicked fingers slide into the crease of Castiel's buttocks, pressing to the tight entrance, teasing it with barely-there touches. Dean had always liked hearing the change in the reporter's voice; how it would turn from deep, gravely voice into high-pitched moans, showing how much Castiel liked the werewolf's precise touches. Just like now, when Dean's three fingers are working the brunet open, stretching and preparing him for Dean's aching erection, still trapped behind the zipper of his jeans.

When Dean feels Cas has had enough, he just gets rid of his t-shirt, pushes his jeans and boxers down to his knees and hoists Castiel up, wrapping the brunet's long legs around his waist.

"You ready for a ride?" He smirks at Castiel, who looks like a disheveled bird after a rain. The reporter just moans something, grabbing Dean's shoulders more firmly. "You better hang on tight, babe!" Dean's voice sounds promising as the cheeky smile dances on his lips.

The werewolf presses Castiel to the wall, holding him under his ass and guides his dick into Castiel's burning heat. Inch by inch, step by step he slides inside 'till he bottoms out, pressing flush against the brunet's ass.

"Dean," Castiel whimpers, digging his fingernails into the muscles of the werewolf's broad shoulders. "Move goddammit!"

"You asked for it!" Dean kisses Castiel's neck, sliding out from the velvety depth only to slam back in.

Castiel screams and leaves bloody scratches on Dean's back. His eyes roll back into his head as he starts to chant something in different languages, which sound like mixture of English, French, and Italian. "Don't stop, Dean, S'il vous plait, darmi piu, per l'amor di dio!"

Dean chases after and catches every hot gasp, moan and a whimper Castiel makes with his lips and teeth, grazing and nibbling at the swollen lips before him. He savors every blinding, ecstatic sensation he feels from the rapid thrusts of his hips.

"Holy fuck, Cas," the werewolf grunts and presses his sweat covered forehead against Castiel's neck, hammering into the pliant body, as his strong hands grab the brunet's buttocks firmly, leaving marks on the smooth skin. "You haven't been with anyone after me, have you?" Dean pants as he keeps fucking the reporter at a fast and rough pace. Castiel feels so mind-blowingly tight that the werewolf begins to think that he's been single too for all these months.

"N-nno," Castiel bites his lip as Dean rams into his prostate. "I…oh god…nnnngh…I-I just couldn't…" His head bangs against the wall and Castiel shudders. "Fuck…"

"Thought so."

Dean lets out a guttural, low, and possessive growl, gathering all of his remaining strength to fuck Castiel from there to next Tuesday. He feels a familiar tightening sensation in his balls, and he closes his fist around Castiel's leaking dick, pumping it fast, flicking his wrist. Castiel just sobs out something incomprehensible and attacks Dean's mouth with a lewd moan.

"Come for me, babe!" the werewolf grunts into the brunet's ear and this is all Castiel needs to hear. He explodes, shattering into a million pieces, painting his belly with the hot splash of his seed.

"Dean…Dean…Dean…" he screams, choking on his own breath as he keeps shivering violently and clenching around the werewolf's dick.

"Right here…I'm right here, Cas." Dean's knees buckle and his heart beats somewhere outside of his body, as he makes the final, frantic thrust into the limp body in his arms, finding his release with a loud and broken cry.

The room is a mess: clothes and shoes are thrown everywhere. The air is thick; the heavy scent of musk and sex hangs above two naked, tangled bodies, which don't seem to care as they're too busy kissing each other languidly.

"How long have you been living here, Dean?" Castiel rests his head on Dean's chest, listening to the werewolf's heartbeat.

"For six months. I showed Crowley all those photos and he swallowed the bait." Dean smiles. "They seemed so realistic that he didn't have any questions. The next day I went to see him and put my gun on his table, saying that I wanted to be out of the business."

"And?" Castiel frowns, raising his head.

Dean puts his hand on the brunet's head forcing him down. "He didn't object. Though, he said it would be a great loss for him."

"Didn't he have any questions why you wanted out?"

"I told him that I wanted a peaceful life. I've always been his most loyal man, dragging him out of many troubles and I knew he wouldn't refuse." Dean caresses Castiel's dark locks.

"But didn't he have any doubts that you would set him up or something?" Castiel asks puzzled.

"No," the werewolf chuckles. "Crowley knows that secrets about his business are safe with me."

"Wow," Castiel says in wonder. "That's unbelievable. If I were him I'd still check about my target's whereabouts, just to be sure."

"He didn't have any doubts, Cas. All the local newspapers were screaming and writing articles about how you went missing and how police couldn't trace you." The werewolf presses a chaste kiss to the brunet's forehead. "Now tell me about you. What have you been doing in London?"

"Well," Castiel shifts to get more comfortable in Dean's embrace. "Anna sold the house in Lakewood after I told her everything that happened. I tried to get a job and I was able to find one, writing articles for an online newspaper. It was boring and pretty mundane but I needed money and had to agree. I thought I would be able to forget about you with time but I just couldn't. You were in my mind, heart and soul and all I could think about was your lips touching mine. It was hell. Why didn't you come look for me, Dean?" The reporter leans on his elbows, looking at Dean intently with his piercing blue eyes.

"I wasn't sure you would want to see me, Cas. Not after you refused to kiss me in the Impala," Dean says, smiling sadly at the memories. "Let's leave the sad part behind and tell me how you found me," he adds after Castiel's quiet gasp.

"Well, I remembered what you said, that you had a beach house in Santa Teresa. It took me almost 3 hours to get here from San Jose. Then I asked some random folks on the beach if they knew this American tough guy named Dean Winchester and they…they…" Castiel can't help but laugh loud.

"What are you laughing at?" The werewolf arches his brow.

"Is Wolfy your nickname? Really, Dean?" Castiel throws his head back and laughs, shaking from the power of it.

"Oh, shut up," Dean says, blushing. "It's not my fault that these stupid fucks gave me this silly name."

"Hahaha, if only they knew that you really are a big bad wolfy!" Castiel keeps cackling.

"Oh that's it! Now this big bad wolf will show our Little Red Riding Cas how to behave!" Dean jumps to his feet, attacking and throwing the reporter over his shoulder. "Though, somehow I doubt you will complain." He smacks Castiel's naked ass and storms to his bedroom, carrying still giggling reporter.

For the next few days they don't do much except making love on every available surface in the house. Castiel loves every second of his time spent at Dean's side. He loves waking up in the loving arms around his waist, delicious morning coffee and pancakes with chocolate syrup, sitting and watching the werewolf splash and break the waves of the ocean with his strong arms. Life is beautiful here and he doesn't have to worry about anything. They have a house, quite a lot of money (Dean's and Castiel's combined savings are more than enough) and shitload of free time, which they can spend as they please.

Castiel is waking up, slowly diving out of the dream world as the morning breeze and sun's rays dance on his face, when a desperate shout and then an angry roar shakes the house.

With his heart hammering against his ribcage Castiel jolts up, trying to find his underwear, when a pissed off Dean Winchester appears and freezes in the doorway.

"What…what happened, Dean? Are you hurt?" Castiel asks with a shaking voice, afraid that his boyfriend is mortally wounded.

"Yes!" Dean almost howls, making Castiel's blood turn into ice. Fuck the underwear, no time to find it! The reporter jumps out of the bed, running towards the werewolf.

"What happened? Where are you hurt? Should I call the ambulance?" Castiel bombards Dean with the questions and begins to examine his body for possible injuries. "I don't understand," he frowns after a while. "I don't see any blood. Where are you hurt?"

"Here," Dean points to his heart. "My feelings are stomped and smashed!"

"What are you talking about?" Castiel looks at him bewildered, not understanding a word Dean is saying.

"Your damn cat!" Dean screams. "Fucker peed on my shoes! I swear I will skin the bastard!"

Castiel is unable to suppress a loud snort that erupts from his mouth, but quickly shuts up when Dean glares at him. "I am very sorry about it, Dean. Let me clean your shoes. I am sure we don't need to take such drastic measures as to skinning Mr. Atkins. We can think of something. He will not do it again. I'll make sure of it."

The brunet puts a long, toe-curling kiss on Dean's lips and wants to turn around when a strong arm wraps around his waist.

"Where do you think you're going, Cas?" Dean's voice full of need and arousal husks out.

"But your shoes…I said…I-I would clean them." Castiel has a hard time concentrating on his own thoughts when Dean's hot breath touches his ear and hands grope his bare ass.

"Shoes later, bed now." The werewolf drags the brunet towards the bed, throwing him on the soft mattress.

"This is the place where I should keep you most of the time." He hovers above Castiel's body.

The reporter just hums his agreement and wraps his arms around Dean's neck to bring him closer.

"I wouldn't really complain." He says softly, smiling into the gentle kiss the werewolf plants on his lips.

The End