The second one for DeanWinchesterPresents because the song prompt I was given screamed for smut as well as for something a little more angsty. Mentions spoilers for 5.18 and 5.19 and is obviously Dean/Castiel yumminess.

Disclaimer: Is Gabriel alive? Are Cas and Dean going at it in front of the camera? If the answer to both of these questions is 'no' you can safely assume that I don't own anything and am only borrowing song and characters for the sake of my twisted mind.

I Feel You.

I see you
Cause you won't get out of my way
I hear you
Cause you won't quit screaming my name
I feel you
Cause you won't stop touching my skin
I need you
They're coming to take you away

Castiel is in Dean's personal space. There is nothing new or different about this, of course, but he has been doing it more since Dean nearly handed himself to Michael and abandoned all the people who care about him. Castiel has stuck closer to them since learning about Gabriel's death too, although he is still more watchful of Dean than he is of Sam.

Part of the hunter understands that, understands the breach of trust and the desperate need that Castiel has to reassure himself that the hunter is not going to change his mind again and go hunting for Michael or his lackeys. Part of Dean just wants to punch the angel each time he turns and finds blue eyes staring at him, parched lips only inches from his own, and that overwhelming scent of lightning and storm clouds that is unique to Castiel.

It makes Dean remember some of the things that he has said to the angel in the past, about personal space and not dying a virgin, food and money, cell phones and the need to stay in contact. It makes him think of all the insults and the witty remarks tossed out because he knows that the angel will not understand the implications behind them. Angry words that carry the hint of truth, offers made because he cannot bring himself to attempt to fulfil their purpose himself, a future seen and felt too keenly not because of the death of the angel but because of the way that their relationship with one another deteriorated.

He wonders when he became such a girl about the whole thing.

Cas is still always there, though, in the line of Dean's periphery, within sight if not within touching distance, the hunter's name a rasp on his lips each time he appears and the soft flutter of tattered wings a frequent signal of arrival and departure. His proximity to the hunter is not an aggravation for the reasons that Dean might claim, however. Not because Castiel is so close that he is breathing the same air and Dean cannot move, rather it is because Dean cannot think with the angel that close without certain increasingly irresistible urges clamouring to be indulged.

"...Cas, the last time someone looked at me like that I got laid..."

The words are no less true now than they were then and Castiel is stood right in front of Dean wearing that exact expression, the one that says that he either wants to kill Dean or throw him on the bed and ravish him. With increasing frequency Dean finds himself wanting the latter and it is a thought that both intrigues and terrifies him, a dream that he can never touch and never have, but for that look.

That look which makes him see the angel in a whole other light, the look that shows Dean how blue his eyes are, the shock of pale skin against his dark hair, lithe form hidden under a trench coat that all but drowns him. It makes him hear the low rasp of Castiel's voice, makes him feel the ghosting of Castiel's breath and it makes that inch gap between them somehow the biggest turn on in his life and the most infuriating action that Cas could take. It does not take him long to act on impulse, to grab Castiel's tie and drag the angel that inch closer so that he can press their lips together.

For a moment the angel stiffens, startled by the sudden movement and unexpected action, then it is almost as if something flips in him, as if the long hours of staring and contemplation have paid off because the angel surges into him, lips parting and the tip of his tongue brushing lightly and maddeningly softly against Dean's own. After that there is nothing tentative about it, the kiss becomes a battle for dominance, with Castiel's hands vice like around Dean's arms and Dean's clamped on his hips as their tongues do a fair imitation of what the hunter is fairly certain they will be doing rather shortly.

Cas pushes and Dean shoves, hands find skin and rough palms skim over soft flesh. The hunter briefly thinks that they should stop this, that Sam will be back soon and that this is the last thing he needs to walk in on, but then Castiel presses tightly against him and lets out a soft groan at the feel of the matching hardness still contained by too constricting fabric and Dean abandons all thought in favour of feeling. Castiel has had him on edge for so long with his stares and his anger and Dean's need to make things right between them that he cannot resist this when the angel is showing that he wants it as badly.

Castiel breaks the kiss as abruptly as he began to take part in it, abandoning lips in favour of caressing his own against the harsh skin of Dean's jaw, scraping his teeth against the tender flesh of the hunter's neck and seeming to revel in the little sounds that he makes. Dean, on the other hand, settles for making as rapid work of the angel's clothing as he can, trembling fingers fumbling with buttons and his breath coming in harsh pants as Castiel continues to mark the skin of his throat.

They are fumbling their way to the bed by the time that Dean has the angel half undressed, hands making short work of Castiel's belt and pants, pushing them away and freeing his erection to the air of the motel room. Cas moans and jolts away, offering the hunter the perfect opportunity to push him down onto the bed and quickly remove his own clothes. He wants this, wants to feel Castiel's hands on his skin, wants to bury himself deep inside the angel and break him, reduce him to a quivering mess of ecstasy, he wants to hear Castiel scream his name as he comes and he is going to make that happen.

He kisses Castiel again as he lowers himself to cover the angel, pressing them together and shifting slightly as Cas moves his legs apart to allow Dean to settle between them, finding heat and friction that makes want and need flare all the more brightly in him as Castiel gasps his name into the dim light of the room. It is good, but it is not quite enough and his hand is already seeking in the drawer by the bed as he kisses down Castiel's chest, the angels hand in his hair and he nibbles lightly at one nipple, fingers closing over the bottle and bringing it with him. He slides further down, pressing a kiss to one of the angel's hips and nuzzling at the hardness that stands there proudly.

He takes Castiel's erection into his mouth in the same instant as he presses one slick finger to the angel's entrance and Cas bucks up into his mouth with a stunned cry even as he shies away from the sudden intrusion. Dean runs his free hand up the angel's side to soothe him as he continues to slowly open up his friend, head bobbing in a rhythm designed to bring Castiel close to the edge as his hand finds Cas' lips and the angel's tongue snakes out to lick across his fingers before suckling one in, laving his tongue over the digit in a manner that makes Dean moan and twist his fingers, brushing against something inside that draws a yell from Cas and drives his hips up from the bed.

The angel probably is not quite open enough at this point, and Dean knows that this will sting and burn, but he cannot wait any longer, cannot risk that Castiel come undone in any other way except with him inside. He pulls up, removes his fingers and releases hard and throbbing flesh from his mouth, covers the angel's lips with his own as he slicks himself up. The hunter pauses for a moment as he pushes in to look into the blue of the angel's eyes, blue blown utterly black with lust and pleasure and filled with something else that Dean cannot name. Cas is tight and hot, he watches as those amazing blue eyes roll back in his head and the hunter snaps his hips forward.

The rhythm Dean sets is hard, the swift roll of hips and the harsh grunt of words and promises, hands digging and bruising and clinging, seemingly everywhere all at once and his name a crescendo of sound that the angel chants over and over when the hunter changes his angle and hits that spot with every thrust. It is the final burst of sound when he reaches to grasp the neglected erection, an accompaniment to the first orgasm that Dean has wrung from him.

The sight of him arched from the bed, eyes wide and hands fisted tightly in the sheets, is enough to tip Dean over the edge, to make him shout Castiel's name as he empties himself inside the angel. Both still, breathing heavily as Dean leans on Cas, feels the angel's hands smoothing along his back as they breathe together.

He presses his lips to Castiel's shoulder, breathes in the scent of sweat and feathers and thunder clouds and realises that he does not just want this now, he wants this for always and as long as he can get before the angel is inevitably taken from him.

Uh, yeah, the song needed it and that is totally my excuse this time.

Artemis