deernet | text; un impala67

[ Dean may be cruel and callous and mean, rotten and twisted and blackened from the things he's done, but there's still pieces of his old self left down under all the rot. He won't let Cas fall any farther than he's already crashed. Never again, if he can help it.

The corners of his mouth twitch a little, like he's going to smile, fingers lingering and brushing over his palm, the annoyance fading into something softer. ]

Course. C'mon. [ He twines his fingers casually, like they do this daily, like it's old news, and tugs at Cas, pulling him off to the side of the house, on the little dirt path that leads out back. ]

I already put your plant in it. Hope that's okay.

Edited 2021-09-09 15:57 (UTC)

[ A lot of people seem to be upset to be here in Trench. It makes Cas wonder if maybe he should be, too. Maybe this world really is the terrible, dark thing they seem to think it is: bloody, rife with monsters, keeping them from a better, kinder world. But when Dean is pulling him along with sure, calloused fingers and a warm, beating heart, it's impossible for Cas to want to be anywhere else. This place is just as much Heaven as the last one. More, he thinks.

And it has a greenhouse. Cas's smile turns a little feral as he picks up his steps, passing Dean without letting go of his hand, to tug him along. ]

Mm... You can put my anything in your anywhere, baby. It's all okay with me.

[ He grins at Dean as he tugs him into the crowded little room of a greenhouse. It's small and very bare, save for the burning bush of an immortal pot plant. It's too dry and not much warmer than the air outside. Not at all humid yet, but it will be. Cas can already see it in vivid colors, and it's a real permanent thing, another home of Dean's that he's been brought to and offered a space inside, despite all expectation. And like the squirming little parasite he is, Cas moves into the space eagerly, leaning back like melted wax onto the nearest wooden table and pulling Dean by his hand— and then hands‐ in close like this is all just a very warm, very kind dream. Thank you, Julia. ]

This is incredible. Thank you, Dean.

Edited 2021-09-09 18:41 (UTC)

[ A greenhouse, and a quaint little raised garden right beside it. Picturesque, if not for the blood pollution and monsters that lurk in the shadows. Dean thinks he read something about flower gardens in this particular district - it might be a way to get into some kind of trade. It's not like either of them are any strangers to adapting to their surroundings. They spent five years in an apocalypse tryin to survive.

Sure, it was drug and alcohol and sex fueled, both with their worsening addictions and vices - but they adapted. Cas grew his own stash, Dean helped with the gardens, showed them how to plant potatoes in buckets so the goddamn things didn't take over the whole garden. He helped build the raised beds, till the land. He may not have known everything, but he knew some stuff - and he learned a lot in the bits of downtime he had between missions and supply runs.

He lets Cas pull him along, not bothering to jerk his hand away, because...why bother? No one here cares. Sam doesn't, and he sincerely doubts little Sam gives a single fuck about it. That kid has far more pressing issues than who Dean happens to be with.]

Maybe one day I'll fuck you in it, when you've got it more filled out. Think of it as our own personal sauna.

[ Great way to clear those pores. ]

Nah...Don't thank me. [ He didn't do it, he didn't build this. He'd planned to, back in Deerington, so maybe all of these upgrades had to do with his intention. ]

[ That raised garden, and the inside of the very large cabin they've arrived at, both merit a thorough exploring, but right now, there is something much greater that Cas wants to explore, and that's the man he's grabbing and pulling even closer, and harder, against him. ]

But I really want to. Let me thank you for everything, Dean.

[ They're going to find out quickly just how sturdy Dean's intention has made this greenhouse, because Cas tugs Dean practically on top of him as he leans himself back against the stout wooden table and spreads his legs to make more space for Dean's hips. He kisses Dean's neck, drags his teeth along Dean's throat on the way up to whispering against his ear. ]

Or are you honestly going to make me wait until this room is full of plants for you to fuck me?

[ He presses right in, sliding right between his thighs and leans in, looping an arm around his waist, fingers twisting in his shirt. ]

I'll get you off right here, if you want.

[ It's been a while, sue him. They hadn't had the best exit from Deerington; a little fun in the shower, but it was mostly holy shit please hold me and make sure I don't slide into the goddamn drain and drown kind of thing.

He shivers, slides his hand up Castiel's back, over his shirt, up into his hair to twist his fingers nad get a grip; tight, commanding, wrenching his head back a little so Dean can put his lips to sweaty, salty skin to kiss and lick and sharply nip.

God, Cas smells good. Better than usual. Like something soft and sweet, something creamy and familiar. He drags his teeth over soft flesh, dragging slowly, hungry, like he may bite at any moment. ]

Not sure I could wait.

[ The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of a journey. There was a very real possibility that they'd reached the permanent end that loomed constantly on the horizon. But instead, they'd been transformed, reborn but kept the same. To find each other again after all that? And to find that, despite all odds, Dean feels the same? That is certainly worth celebrating.

Cas may be buzzed and numbed by experience, but if there's anything (anyone) that can get his fires stoked, it's Dean pushing in as he's pulled, talking dirty and being so wonderfully, entirely responsive. Dean presses in hungrily, and Cas grinds forward against him to make sure Dean is completely aware of how hot and hard and turned on he is already, desperate for whatever scrap, or outpouring, of Dean's affection he can get. He holds onto Dean's shirt with greedy, squeezing fists, digs a heel into Dean's lower back, and lets his head fall to the side, offering up more of his neck to Dean's mouth. Dean's teeth drag, his fingers tug rough in Cas's hair, and Cas moans for more of it— of him, of everything.

The room feels warmer, dizzying with the reverb of Dean's neediness. Cas feels a little like he's drowning. He's definitely high. It's wonderful. He rocks against Dean, comfortably bracketed by Dean's arms and his body and the wooden bench under his ass. There's no leverage at all, but it doesn't matter, because Dean's so close, so hot and solidly flush against him, that he's already right where Cas wants him. ]

[ He's already forgotten why he was annoyed with Cas in the first place, hard to be mad when the angel is so pliant and responsive against him, smelling like manna from heaven and tasting just as sweet. Cas is warm and solid, a real presence in this greenhouse that's rapidly fogging from rough breaths and stolen kisses.

Fire burns low and hot in his veins, a desperate need thrumming in his bones, pounding his ears, thunderous and all consuming. He isn't sure he'll ever have his fill of the angel now that he's been tempted into sin, especially not in a place like this, that's designed to tempt and corrupt. Dean could never stay away from Cas before, now it feels impossible, and he's drawn in like a delicate moth with paper thin wings to a violent flame, teeth dragging sharply over Castiel's neck, his tongue dragging back up the length, sweat on his tongue.

Roughly, Dean drops a hand between them to tug at whatever Cas is wear, needing under it, flesh under his hands, the brush of fingers against Castiel's hardening cock. His breath hitches, his eyes close. ]

[ That's good— forgetting the whys, all the reasons for why Cas is a constant disappointment, a powerless drugged out letdown and a waste of Dean's time. That's what sex is so good for, and with Dean...? That's a high in itself. This is far from that unsure shaky first time, and yet an entire world later, it still hasn't sunk entirely into Cas' mind that he's allowed to pull Dean close against him like this. How is something he's always been so covetous of, now finally allowed to him? To degenerate ol' him, of all people? It's wild.

Cas leans into the delirium. The drag of Dean's teeth and hot breath on his neck, and even the most unsatisfying graze of a touch of Dean's hand to his cock, is euphoria. Dean's breath hitches loudly and Cas wonders if it isn't just an echo of his own sharp inhale. He's so needy. Even his cock jerks in Dean's direction, the physical constraints of his distractingly human body matching his omnipresent ache for Dean's affection.

The heat burning between them is a flame, alright. If Dean is a moth, Cas wants to incinerate him. His hands press into Dean's hair and he tugs his head, pulling him into deep, biting kisses. And he arches against him, towards the tease of that hand. ]

More, Dean... I need you.

[ It's the understatement of the century, of an eternity, but Cas will repeat it as many times as it takes to get that more, that everything, of Dean he craves like fire devouring crispy, sweet dried leaves. ]

[ A few rough tugs and Cas' pants are loose and shover down, Dean's hand groping for his cock, wrapping thick, calloused fingers around his length. ]

Yeah? [ He likes that, hearing that he's needed. Dean needs to be needed, needs to be wanted and helpful and necessary. It's strange here, in this new world, and the few things that are familiar are precious to him.

Like Cas.

Dean licks his way back up Cas' neck, drops kisses along his jaw before catching his mouth for kisses, claiming and deep. ]

I'm right here.

[ Belts are for work days, and right now Cas is happy not to be wearing one. He arches his hips back to get Dean's hand more room to work, only to be rewarded by the firm grip of his palm, and even dry, Cas groans and jerks into the feeling. His cock's leaking, making Dean's fingers wet enough, but even with less, he'd react the same. How many times can he remember the squeeze of his own palm and Dean's name gasped into a cold pillow? This is so much better. Dean's reassurance, breathed right into his mouth, tastes honey-sweet, and Cas holds him tight, rocks against him, and moans encouragingly. ]

Fuck, yeah.

[ It's not a long-practiced art, kissing Dean. A handful of times, paired with sex just like this, always, and that's it— but something feels different about these kisses. There's something rougher to them, a possessive sort of neediness Cas can't remember feeling from Dean before, and he's not sure if he's imagining it or not, but he likes it.

He hums into the deep kisses, chasing Dean's tongue, fingers tugging rough in Dean's hair to encourage more of the same, to keep him right where he is, because it's exactly where Cas wants him to be. Eventually Cas leans back against the bench, only slightly, just enough to get his hands between them (and hopefully not too in the way) as he struggles with clumsy, distracted fingers as he opens Dean's belt, and his jeans, and pushes a hand down into his pants to feel his cock, to squeeze it and get it out and available for more touching between them, too. ]

[ The precome helps; Dean thumbs the head, slicks it down over Cas' cock, sliding his hand over as he drinks those kisses down, because they're sweeter than any wine he's ever tasted. How long has he yearned for them without realizing? How long has he hungered; desperate, yearning, craving the touch he's been so blessed with now?

Longer than he'd care to admit.

Skin starvation is a thing, and it's something Dean's suffered with for years without knowing. Flings never satisfied in the way he so desperately needed, left him hollow, worn thin and frayed around the edges. This, though - this undefinable thing he's started with Cas - it satisfies those urges, the cravings that have eaten away at the corners of his soul. He can't get enough; Cas clumsily gets in his way while trying to undo Dean's jeans and he growls a little, though the result is worth it and he nearly comes right there, just from the simple touch alone. ]

I need--

[ Maybe those years of flings never scratched this particular itch (and, well... Cas can relate), but Dean's mountain of experience isn't for nothing, and Cas is putty in his hands. He writhes towards the touch of Dean's hand, encouraging a slow, rocking rhythm that he mirrors with his own hand on Dean's cock, the slide of his tongue into Dean's mouth and the pant of his breath.

Whatever time really passed between that fleshy gate in Deerington and waking up liquid and new in a salty ocean, it feels like an eternity since he's had Dean alone, intimately like this. Cas is practiced at things like finding distance, and calm, and practicing restraint against wildly fluctuating, chemical human emotion, but right now he doesn't want any of that: restraint, distance. Even the brush of his knuckles against Dean's on a particularly long stroke has him shivering, and he leans into it and against Dean like a wave pulled by the tide. ]

What— ah... What do you need? You want to feel my mouth stretching around you? My— mm... throat swallowing you down? Want to press into me? Want to... ah... hear how badly I need you to fuck me?

[ Cas breathes whatever filthy thing he can think of against Dean's mouth, all while squeezing Dean's cock, all while thrusting shallowly into Dean's fist, and he's got no lube with him and no intention of doing anything else than maybe slotting his cock right up against Dean's and coming all over it, but dirty talk is a weapon, and Cas isn't above dirty tactics when the goal is getting Dean off hard and fast. ]

[ Slick skin and warm hands, knuckles brushing as they stroke each other, Dean groaning against Cas' mouth, hungry, lapping. The little greenhouse is a sauna already, the glass steamed, panted breaths damp and desperate. ]

I--need you.

[ Words fail him, but the truth comes out, because this is what he wants, what he needs - who he wants and needs. There's attractive people around, sure, but this is where his black little heart landed, where it belongs; where it has always belonged - right in Cas' slender fingered hands. ]

[ The sheer, rawness of that statement hits Cas unexpectedly hard for its honesty. It gets under his skin better than any dirty talk he could've dreamed up. And in Dean's voice— "I need you." It reverberates in Cas's head like a stroke to each nerve, and he jolts electric against Dean, gasping, wordless for the pleasure of Dean's hands, and his mouth, and the heat of him throbbing against Cas's palm. ]

I'm here.

[ He echoes Dean's words from before, but paler, gasping breathless against his mouth, writhing against him as the rhythm he set for them gets faster quick, and faster, urgent and needy, pleading with his body — and then begging with his name — for Dean to do the same. ]

Dean...

[ There's nothing slow and sensual here, nothing artful in the crash of blind affection, but Cas isn't ashamed, can't even remember what shame used to feel like. He revels in Dean's affection wantonly, rocking into the squeeze of Dean's hand, squeezing his cock with needy, eager strokes as conscious thought gives way to blissful nothing but Dean's touch, and his mouth, and the echoing need in his head—

Cas doesn't try to hold back when he's overwhelmed, just lets the buzzing warm, and fire, and burst until he's jerking harder away from the bench and into Dean's fist and coming, covering his palm and making a careless mess of Dean like that was something he was allowed to do; like he had every right to it. ]

Stay.

[ Stay, be with me, don't leave. I need you.

He means it, with every fiber of his being, every pump of his twisted, black heart. He needs Cas, now more than ever - with everything that's happened, everything that he's been through and seen and experienced, to have the angel show up at the end with the town in flames holding starbucks like am I late was just--

Well. Not to be ironic, but a godsend. Then to get separated in the ocean and unable to find him on that beach, Dean had thought he was going to lose his friggin' mind.

He slides his hand over Cas' cock rough, hungry, using precome to slick over soft skin, jerking him off like it's Dean that needs it to live.

Warm, wet stickiness pulses over Dean's hand just before he loses all of his control, spilling hot and thick right over Cas, claiming him in the same way, like he's his, and that's all that matters. ]

[ The wonderful thing about drugs, and sex, and sex while on drugs is that the voice in your head — the very loud, nasally one that tells you that you don't deserve to be happy, and that the universe isn't happy, and that good things in your life can't be real because reality is suffering and the cold empty embrace of nirvana at the end of all things is the real divine— that voice goes away, just for a little while. It's drowned out by dopamine and love that sounds like Dean's voice as he says Stay with me, I need you, and the coffee-stained whiskey taste of Dean's mouth, and the slick, hot pull of Dean's hand pulling him through orgasm. That is divine. Cas holds his breath and doesn't let himself exhale as the frantic stroke of his hand and the jerk of his hips towards Dean's all slows down, like winding a clock backwards.

When Cas exhales on the way down, it's a laugh. He laughs quietly right against Dean's mouth, genuinely delighted by the moment, ecstatic to be alive, or whatever this is. He pulls Dean down by the neck into lazy, slow kisses as he pulls on Dean's cock as much to feel the slick of come through his fingers as to work him through the aftershocks, and "I love you", Cas thinks so loudly and so profoundly that it's a wonder Dean doesn't hear it in his molars from how earnestly it's thought and how deeply he's kissed. ]

[ He's spent, breathing heavy, damp, hand wrapped still around Cas' cock. It's bliss, it's right and perfect, it's his and he doesn't know how he managed to take this for himself, but it's beautiful and he loves it.

He loves Cas, unequivocally, irreverently. It isn't said out loud, because that isn't and will likely never be the type of person Dean is, but it's thought, loud and in tandem with Cas, i love you i love you i love you - a mantra, a prayer, a meditation.

It's heard in his bones, in his soul, taken and absorbed and bounced right back, flung towards Cas tenfold, because Dean feels, and he feels violently, mercilessly. ]

( just timeskipping the cleanup and continuing from here lolol )

[ Uh, squid not octopus, actually. But the confusion is understandable, considering how comfortably he has himself wrapped around Dean's warmth. But all good things. Cas rolls his eyes and nips at Dean's ear at the nickname and reluctantly untangles himself. ]

Oh, that's right. I'm leading, aren't I?

[ Just going to rub that part in while he still has the chance. With a grin at Dean, he opens the door and lets himself in. Though it's the first time Cas has been in this newly reincarnated version of Dean's cabin, Cas takes a critical air on as he walks through the foyer, as if it's gorgeous and a world away from the previous incarnation. (If only he could've been so lucky, to come back better and not... more of the same.) ]

Mmm... Impressive. My options of bedroom are upstairs instead of the basement this time, I imagine? How many do I have to chose from?

[ He's sure there must be more than three (or at least three if, hope against hope, Dean really is willing to share) or else Dean wouldn't have taken him up on the claim and it would've been a nice bedroll on the floor of the basement again, or the more scenic greenhouse. Anyway, assuming there are three+ bedrooms this time, no doubt Dean will have his already decided, and probably an idea of whose will be for each Sam already, so no doubt this "choosing" of Cas' will be a formality. But shh. Let's not ruin the fun. With enthusiasm and false grandeur, Cas begins climbing the stairs, turned just enough to watch for Dean to follow him along on the way up. ]

You are.

[ laaa deee daaa flowers and sex and cleanup, OH MY. Jesus Christ I'm a dumbass ]

Dude, you're not sleeping in the basement. [ He pauses, peering up at Cas as he follows, lips twitching a little. ]

But c'mere, come see this big one down here, first. Main floor, no basement -- scouts honor.

[ Look, he'll even give the eagle scout salute, cause memorizing that shit came in super handy sometimes. People like a nice boy who's an Eagle Scout. ]

Edited 2021-09-30 01:14 (UTC)

[ Not sleeping in the basement, perhaps, but that's not to say the basement was all bad. Cas has some fond memories. ...Even if, on at least one occasion, there was crying involved. Still, Dean shared it— the basement room and so much more— with him. That reason enough to think fondly of sleeping quarters that were less than kind to his back.

Cas lifts his chin, eyes narrowing as Dean tries to lure him back down. What kind of self-respecting bedroom is on the ground level of a place? But even if it's a trap and not a bedroom at all, Cas rolls his eyes and acquiesces stepping back down the steps with heavier footfalls than he'd taken going up it, because this is Dean, and Cas doesn't know how to do anything else than huff and complain and ultimately give Dean his way. ]

It had better be very big.

[ Normal bedrooms in normal houses, he guesses, but this is what he assumes is the Master, so he's showing it to Cas, because it's big and impressive and pretty. ]

It is. The bathtub is to die for.

[ BUBBLE JETS, CAS. Bubble jets. ]

C'mon. [ He reaches a hand out, fingers wiggling. ]

[ It has its own bathroom?? It's own bathtub? Alright, Cas hasn't even seen it yet, but he might be sold. That offered hand is completely unnecessary, and Cas' stupid, slutty heart flutters over it anyway. He can't even pretend to be anything less than enchanted as he takes Dean's hand and allows himself to be pulled along. ]

There is still an important mission to plan, but we could both use a bath.

You don't like my manly stench?

[ But no, it's true, they both need a shower, big time - and he'll tug Cas right down the little hall into the room, show him the big beautiful master suite with the tub, Dean's duffle thrown in a corner cause really, this was the first room he came across and dumped his shit in. ]

What do you think?

[ There are jokes to be made here, particularly jokes about floral-smelling blood, but Cas only gets as far as laughing before they're in the bedroom and that is— ]

This is quite a room.

[ The duffle Dean's left in the corner, a silent claim of ownership in Cas' mind, doesn't go unnoticed any more than the multiple exits or the nearest heavy object that could be wielded as a weapon. But Cas lets himself be distracted away from all of that to admire the large windows open to the view of the gardens and forest and night sky beyond, the unlit fireplace, the general sense of warmth radiating from this space, and the, yes, very large bed. It could use more curtains and beads if it were truly his, but there's something so Dean about this space that Castiel can't help but adore it. ]

Are they all like this?

[ Cas wonder aloud more to himself than expecting a real answer from Dean, and he helps himself to walking fully right in the room and drops his own bag on the bed along the way to the bathroom.

The bathroom— god, is equally stunning. There was nothing so large and so finished in the previous cabin, and even the house Cas stayed in back in Deerington barely long enough to call his own, never had a tub so large and— ]

Is that...

[ He examines the switches beside the doorway, reading the little labels, looking between the large stone and porcelain tub in the room's corner and the little knobs on the wall that seem to control it. ]

Dean, is this a bubble bath?

[ Cas doesn't actually know how a jacuzzi works, or what the soapy substance is that bubbles under the pressure of underwater jets. He's never seen such a thing in person. Actually, he's never really had a bath by the strictest definition. The tub they had at Camp Chitaqua was a horrible metal thing that almost no one used, all finding favor in the nearby lake. He bathed in it once, when his foot was broken. It was a miserable experience. He nearly broke the other foot trying to get back out of it.

But this... This is nothing like that, and Cas is already shrugging his cape to the ground and peeling off his shirt in his excitement. ]

I told you you needed to see it first.

[ Dean couldn't believe it when he walked in - he almost hadn't made it to the rest of the house, cause he'd gotten stuck here, staring out of the windows, hardly able to believe this was theirs.

He'd doubt it, at first. Baby had been sitting out front, glossy and new (And now properly spelled), so he'd assumed the house was theirs, even with the obvious upgrades to the outward structure.

But then he'd walked inside and thought twice about it - until he found their things. Cas' stuff, Sammy's books and trinkets, Sam's clothes neatly folded, their mothers charm bracelet carefully stashed away, his own little treasures.

It had to be theirs. ]

Not just like this, but there's a few more bathrooms, and like...four more bedrooms.

[ He follows after Cas in his exploration, giving him space, drinking in Cas' reactions like Dean had built the whole place himself.

Maybe he did. Hard to say. ]

It sure is. [ He's laughing at Cas' eagerness, pushing off the wall where he'd paused to lean, though he is definitely appreciating the view he's been gifted as he moves in. ] I take it you wanna give it a go right now.

text; un impala67

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STEAM

cw: 😏

cw: ev!cas

the man knows how to have a good time

he sure does

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I SUCK KSDFMAWRSDFGFBDDFGS GOD

shh shh you're golden, nothing happened, no one saw anything

sobbbb

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how did i miss this???? OH YEAH STRANDED IN FUCKING VEGAS