Dean shook his head. This future was horrible. The very worst thing he could imagine.
And it wasn't even just that everyone had to live in camp Chitaqua, in ramshackle cabins with dubious plumbing, or that Sam was gone (in ways he didn't even want to think about thinking about).
He'd ruined Cas. Castiel, his rock, the one person he could count on had fallen in every possible way and there was no fixing him. Cas being sarcastic and finally understanding human interaction was something Dean wanted to see in Castiel's future, if he was being honest, but not at the price of addiction and reckless promiscuity.
It made him sad—Castiel had turned into Dean, cranked to eleven. And while Dean liked to think that he kept himself in check, he knew he wasn't the healthiest person for anyone to model themselves on.
After the big meeting, Dean had a terrible, terrible feeling about his (his?) plan, and an even worse feeling about what this place had turned him into, and God, he'd never wanted anything more than to just go home. He was walking along to his assigned quarters when a low wolf whistle sounded from a darkened porch.
Castiel's porch.
"You know, I wasn't kidding. I like past you. I always did," Castiel told him with a smirk.
Dean halted in his tracks and stared over at Castiel for a long moment. After some consideration, he stepped closer, close enough that they could talk without the whole camp overhearing. Dean leaned on the porch rail. "What are you telling me, Cas?"
Castiel, eyes bloodshot in the dim light coming from his door, laughed lowly. "You're hot, and I want to fuck you," he said. "You, not now you—well, I mean, I have now you. A couple of times now. When he's angry and desperate."
Dean's eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. "You and me?"
Castiel rolled his eyes. "Don't look so surprised, we've had sexual tension from the day we met. Remember that? Darkened barn, sparks literally flying? Just because I was too naïve to understand it doesn't make it any less real."
Dean lifted his eyes upward to contemplate it, brows furrowing in concentration.
Castiel smiled bitterly up at him. "You finally caved after Sam was gone," he said. "Bobby was already dead. The people he was afraid would find out about his latent lusts were gone, so he came to me for comfort. We lived together for a while. It was just cuddles at first, there was only one bed to spare for us, and then we finally fucked—and, God, it was amazing. But he had his big gay freakout and moved out and that was mostly the end of that. And that was when I turned into this." Castiel motioned at himself. "Nothing fills the hole it left. But it dulls the pain. Every once in a while, when a raid goes wrong, he comes to me for...comfort. But it's just for him to work out his frustration, he doesn't mean anything by it."
"God, Cas..." Dean raked a hand through his hair. "I never wanted this for you." It really had been him that ruined Castiel, that twisted the angel into something nearly unrecognizable.
The laugh that passed Castiel's lips was anything but jovial. "I'm sure you didn't, Dean...you haven't gotten anything you wanted." He shook his head. "The sick thing is, if you—well, if he came to me and said he wanted to try again, I'd still let him fuck with me, even though I know he couldn't possibly keep it up."
"Shut up," Dean told him. "I don't wanna know."
The other Dean—the older, possibly not wiser but certainly more experienced one—stepped close just in time to hear it. "Cas, lay off. He doesn't need to know."
Castiel laughed again, but this time it was seductive. "Well, well, well...two Deans. One Cas. Hell of an opportunity here. We really shouldn't let it go to waste, past Dean certainly won't be sticking around long."
"Past" Dean stared over at Castiel in disbelief. "Cas. I'm not gay."
He rolled his eyes. "You always say that, and yet when we're together I'm always 'the best you ever had,'" he said, lifting his fingers for air quotes.
And damned if Dean's cock didn't twitch in curiosity at that. He'd always been drawn to the forbidden, and yeah, he'd jerked off to the making-out-with-himself fantasy once or twice. This was the closest he'd ever get to that. The fact that the whole act would be a giant middle finger to Zachariah and the rest of the dick angels didn't hurt, either.
"Cas, drop it," the other Dean said.
Dean looked over at his future counterpart. "Do I do this?" he asked.
"Huh?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "If you're me, you'll have the memory of having gone through with this. As me."
The other Dean, haggard, worn, beaten, sighed. "Yeah. You do this." He sounded like he could barely believe he was saying it, even while he was thinking over the memory.
The younger Dean still hoped this entire timeline could be changed, but while he was in it, there really wasn't much point in not enjoying its few pleasures. "Okay then." He looked over at Cas. "Looks like you get your wish, loverboy."
The look on Castiel's face could only be described as gleeful, like he'd just been granted his dying wish.
God. Dean sucked at choosing metaphors.
"Seriously?" the other Dean asked. "I mean...maybe you should try not doing what I remember. Change your future, change my past."
Dean glared at himself. "My mind's made up on this. No more discussion." Amazingly, that worked, the other Dean rolled his eyes, tossed his hands heavenward, and stepped up on Castiel's porch to walk inside. Castiel stood and offered a hand to Dean.
Dean felt surprisingly tender as he took it, allowing Castiel to walk him inside. The other Dean had already shed his jacket and was sitting on the bed, and Castiel tied the curtain door shut. He bustled about, grabbing a bottle of lube and lighting some incense on the nightstand. And then he turned to face Dean with an intense stare that reminded Dean strongly of the old Cas, the Cas he knew and—loved?
The realization hit Dean like a ton of bricks.
It explained a lot, really, not the least of which was why he wanted it.
It made him want to carry through, to try to atone to this future Castiel for his sins, in not knowing, in not piecing the puzzle together in time. He couldn't fix him, but he could grant him one wish, one night of ecstasy (though hopefully that wasn't among the things Castiel had taken that day).
Dean didn't have time to linger on the thought, though, before Castiel stalked close, fisting both hands in the front of his t-shirt and pressing their mouths together in a heated kiss. Dean let him have it, bending to Castiel's will, allowed himself to be pressed up against the wall. Dean clutched at Castiel's hips, leaving fingerprint bruises, while Castiel explored his mouth—it was strange, because Castiel clearly knew his way around even though Dean had never kissed him.
"Oh, come on, at least get on the bed," the other Dean protested.
Castiel broke the kiss and looked in Dean's eyes, already darkened with lust and curiosity. He nodded. "Yes, of course." He pushed Dean's jacket off his shoulders, and then roughly tugged him forward, turned him, and pushed him down on the bed.
The two Deans were left sitting next to each other, and Castiel staring at them. Castiel licked his lips—to wet his mouth or to make himself more desirable, hard to say. Older Dean raised an eyebrow, and then Castiel grinned. He slowly started unlacing the neckline of his shirt, allowing the neck to slide open. He made a motion, a slight shimmy of hips and shake of shoulders that was almost, but not quite, a dance move, and it shifted his shirt, exposing half his collarbone and his upper arm.
Younger Dean stared unabashed, leaning forward a bit as all the blood rushed toward his dick.
A small huff of laughter passed older Dean's lips and Dean turned to stare at him. "Like you don't get it," he said, rolling his eyes. He turned and looked back at Castiel.
Castiel raised both arms over his head, still sashaying-in-place, and a strip of midriff and hip showed—he was even skinnier now, and his hipbones jutted, his belly soft but taut between them. Dean's cock twitched as he thought about putting his mouth on the soft skin there. Castiel then grabbed the back of the neck of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth, graceful motion. He dropped the shirt to the floor and continued his little dance, spreading his arms out as if motioning to indicate a bountiful table.
Dean couldn't help but think that he wanted a bite of it.
Castiel shimmied a bit closer and swung his hips toward the Dean he was used to. The other Dean obligingly reached a hand forward and popped the button on Castiel's jeans; that was all it took for the low-slung garment to start sliding down. The gray waistband of Castiel's boxers had been visible, but now the dark blue plaid was starting to show. Even though he had to step out of his jeans, Castiel couldn't have made the motion any sexier without aid of a pole. He did a bit of a twirl then, shaking his booty in both Dean's faces. When he faced them again, his erection was obvious. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and played with it for it a moment, pulling it away from his skin, letting it back in close, before finally letting them drop and pool on the floor. He did another quick spin before standing and looking at them, arms crossed.
Dean saw a legitimate grin on the older version of him for the first time since he'd arrived, and the other man slowly began to applaud. Dean looked over at him, and the two Deans locked eyes. Dean put a hand on the other's chest, and they both leaned in.
Their lips met, and it was both not weird and the weirdest thing ever. They both knew exactly what the other wanted and how to give it; the kiss was gentle, and if the whole thing hadn't been a giant experiment, it would've been sweet. Older Dean was the one that finally gave in and slipped tongue into the mix; younger Dean took it and sucked gently.
Castiel couldn't leave them alone long, though, and he got on the bed, crawling into younger Dean's lap—the Dean he really wanted, the one he'd been in love with once. Maybe still was, in a highly dysfunctional, twisted kind of way.
Dean registered the weight, and he slipped a hand to rest on Castiel's hip, then the small of his back as he got closer. Dean nearly broke the kiss with himself in order to give Castiel some proper attention, but then Castiel's mouth sealed itself to his pulse point and he moaned into the kiss. The other Dean raked his fingernails gently down Castiel's spine, making him rock his hips side-to-side where he was straddled over Dean's legs. He pressed his tongue in, exploring his past self's mouth (it felt different, approaching it from the other side) while said past self was nearly boneless.
Castiel slipped one hand under each of their shirts, still sucking hard on Dean's neck. After a moment, older Dean finally broke the kiss in order to tug his shirt off over his head. Castiel moved both hands to touch the man he was straddling, stroking fingertips gingerly over his abs, pushing his t-shirt up. Dean leaned forward a little to shrug out of his overshirt and then cooperated with Castiel, lifting his arms so that Castiel could strip him, too. He let Castiel push him down, let Castiel rut against him while he sucked on his neck.
Older Dean didn't let it slide for long, though. He pulled Castiel off and laid down on top of himself, sucking down hard on all the spots he knew got to himself, essentially leaving a road map made of hickeys for Castiel to follow. Dean couldn't do anything but moan and writhe; Castiel just watched until the older Dean sat back.
It was strange; they were more similar than twins and now with clothes starting to disappear there were even fewer markers to distinguish them, and Castiel could no longer see souls, but even so, he could tell the two Deans apart with no effort. What a difference five years made.
Castiel moved to older Dean and palmed his cock through his pants. Dean groaned and leaned toward Castiel, who moved to unbutton and unzip his fly. Younger Dean got up on his knees and pressed himself to Castiel's back. He bit down on Castiel's neck and then laved his tongue over the mark he made; he then sucked down. Castiel gasped and though he put a hand on the other Dean's cock, his motions were short and stuttering while Dean distracted him with pleasure, arms wrapped around his waist.
Dean rutted against Castiel's ass, seeking friction. After a moment, the other Dean gently shoved Castiel to the side and leaned forward to kiss himself again. His hands moved down and he unfastened the other's pants, pushing them down and letting past Dean's cock spring out from its trap.
Dean laid back on the bed again to let the other two pull his pants and boxers off. Castiel did it, but then kissed him hungrily, and tangled a hand in his hair. Both of Castiel's hands were on his shoulders when he suddenly felt another touch on his cock. He moaned, the slow strokes were absolutely perfect, and he realized what was happening. The other Dean was doing it exactly how he liked, knowing the way only he could. Dean broke the kiss with Castiel and forced himself up on his elbows. He looked and met his own green gaze staring back at him, and stared until the stroking stopped. He got up on his knees and put a hand in the other's—his own?—pants.
Older Dean's eyes fluttered closed. Castiel moved to suck on his neck as younger Dean palmed and rubbed at his cock. Dean felt weird touching another man's junk, but at the same time, it wasn't, really. It was still his own, in a weird way. Older Dean moaned happily, only able to stay upright because of Castiel holding him there, and younger Dean pulled his cock out to stroke it properly.
"It's better with the lube," Castiel told younger Dean. "It's one thing that didn't fly off the shelves when the stores got looted." He nodded toward the nightstand and Dean picked up the small bottle. He poured a few drops in his hand and let them drip around to warm up before starting to stroke, well, himself again.
Older Dean pulled Castiel in to kiss him properly, moaning into it as the other Dean pumped slowly, building it up.
Castiel pressed close, and older Dean was half rutting into his counterpart's hand, half frotting on Castiel. Dean moved in to suck on the other side of his neck and older Dean moaned, eyes fluttering, nearly overwhelmed with pleasure.
Castiel broke the kiss in order to kiss past Dean, and found himself torn. He ended up going back and forth between the two of them, sucking hickeys on the necks of both Deans, one hand fondling the balls of older Dean as younger Dean kept up his handjob. With all the attention, it didn't take long for older Dean to climax, painting Castiel's belly with a white rope of come.
Castiel chuckled darkly as older Dean leaned against him, panting. "Always did like to mark your territory."
"Shut up."
"Make me," Castiel challenged, but before the argument could continue, he let out a soft groan—younger Dean had nudged his head in between them and was licking the come clean. Castiel grasped his hair softly, carding his fingers through it.
Older Dean looked down. "God damn."
Castiel rolled his eyes. "Blasphemy," he chided, clearly amused at the thought.
Dean looked up at him, eyes framed with long lashes. "S'not funny," he murmured, and pressed a soft kiss to Castiel's belly.
Castiel shook his head. "Nothing is, anymore."
Dean sighed and pulled away. He wanted to say something, felt like he should say something, but he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't ruin the mood.
The other Dean moved in and kissed Castiel's neck. "I think you should lay down and hand me the lube," he said, and Castiel scrambled to obey, eager for even the smallest direction. He handed the bottle to the elder Dean and then stretched out on his stomach, folding his arms and resting his cheek on his forearm. Older Dean grabbed a handful of his perky ass with a soft growl, and Castiel purred. He tipped the bottle over and poured some of the lube in Castiel's crack, and then moved to finger at his entrance, spreading it around.
Younger Dean swallowed thickly, thinking he would suddenly come at the slightest touch. Seeing Castiel laying there pliant and ready, and watching himself finger him, was probably the most erotic thing he'd ever experienced.
Castiel looked over his shoulder and smirked at him. "See? You want this. You've always wanted this." Dean narrowed his eyes at him, suddenly wanting nothing more than to wipe the smirk off his face, but he held back.
Older Dean had already worked his way up to two fingers, since Castiel was well used to the intrusion by now. Honestly, Castiel liked the burn of taking it a little too fast. It was a feeling that wasn't aching for Dean—not exactly. He arched back towards Dean's fingers, wanting it deeper, faster—ready for a hard fuck.
Dean scooted higher up on the bed, sitting near Castiel's face. Castiel smirked and reached over to start jerking him off. Dean gasped and bit his lip, willing himself not to come just yet. Castiel's hand felt heavenly—damn it, he hadn't meant that one either—but he wanted to wait, to come inside of Castiel, to give the angel what he wanted. After a few strokes he shook his head and grabbed Castiel's wrist to stop him. “No,” he murmured. “Cas—want—wanna fuck you.”
Castiel looked surprised, but he moved his hand away, idly stroking Dean's inner thigh instead, something to keep him keyed up but not push him over that edge.
Older Dean looked up after a few minutes. “He's ready,” he said, pulling his fingers out. “All stretched for you. Don't think too hard, it's not any different than what you've done before. He can take it.”
Dean didn't like the sound of that, like Castiel was just some old, used-up plaything, broken in and unappreciated. He nodded, though. “Roll over, Cas,” he said, as he moved down so he could get between Castiel's legs.
Castiel raised an eyebrow. “What, you want to look at me?” he asked, and Dean's heart broke all over again.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Cas, of course...I...” He couldn't explain. He couldn't go and tell this Castiel he loved him, not with the proof otherwise sitting right there on the bed with them. Or maybe the older version of himself did love Castiel, but had too much else to cope with. Dean himself could barely keep his head wrapped around this new truth, the one that had hit him so hard. Or maybe the older man had simply become a shitty person. Starting from who he was now, it didn't feel like much of a reach to Dean, not with everything that had befallen him and Castiel. If the older Dean did love him, he certainly wasn't doing it right.
Whatever it was, Castiel rolled onto his back, and looked up at the younger Dean almost reverently. Dean couldn't help but think that Castiel was finally getting what he had deserved all along, which at some point he'd grown incapable of giving to him anymore—and he wasn't sure yet how he could circumvent this awful, awful outcome, but he was completely committed to doing exactly that, erasing the entire damn timeline Back-to-the-Future-2 style, making things right. Because whatever “right” was, this wasn't it—sex with Cas, sure, but not any of the rest of it.
Dean moved in closer, kneeling in front of Castiel, whose inner thighs rested on top of Dean's as he got into a good position. Dean took his cock in hand and tentatively pressed the tip against Castiel's rim. It was easier to push in than he imagined, though he hesitated to go deep right off the bat.
“He's not wrong, I can take it,” Castiel assured Dean. Dean nodded, with a bit of a grunt, but he pressed slowly anyway, wanting to savor it for himself—Castiel was hot and tight, so much tighter than what he was used to, and he wanted to drag it out. Maybe he should've let himself come before getting this far, after all, but it was too late now.
The older Dean watched, almost amused, and stroked himself slowly. “He likes it faster,” he told his younger counterpart.
“I've got this,” Dean snapped. He got himself buried to the hilt, and adjusted his knees on the bed so he was closer to Castiel. He leaned down over the other man, chest-to-chest, and pressed kisses along his jaw before he even started to move. “How you holding up, angel?” he murmured.
“Haven't...been that, in a long time,” Castiel breathed, barely loud enough for the other Dean to hear. “You've never called me that.”
Dean sucked softly under his ear, giving Castiel just the slightest roll of his hips. “Don't—don't get hung up on it,” he said, soothingly. “Just want to know if you feel as good right now as I do...” He bottomed out again and kept rolling slowly, and the dragged-out moan from Castiel was all the answer he really needed. Dean cupped his cheek, turning his face so he could kiss his lips again.
Castiel wrapped an arm around Dean's neck, arching towards him, clinging to him. It wasn't just the slow in-and-out of Dean's cock, but it was all the electric skin-to-skin contact between them, shoulder-to-knee, practically. Castiel felt lit up in a way the drugs and the Dean he'd been stuck with had never quite managed. He would've given anything to have this Dean stay forever, and he tried to explain it to Dean without words, pouring it into the kiss they were sharing.
The other Dean felt the moment, and left them to it instead of jumping in, just handling himself for the moment.
Dean thought of pulling away from Castiel to kiss other places, but the hand Castiel had on the back of his neck kept him right where he was, and he was happy to give Castiel what he needed. He sped his hips up a little, driving in faster, but still not hard or rough. If Castiel was used to being ridden hard and fast, it certainly didn't seem to be what he wanted right then. Dean thought to wonder if that was because he didn't like it generally, or if it was because this time it was him, the Dean Castiel thought he'd lost long before.
Castiel pulled away, only to moan deeply. “Fuck, Dean—” He panted softly. “It's never—been like this—”
“Shh,” Dean murmured. “Enjoy it.”
Castiel nodded. “Touch me?” he requested. “Please?” The other Dean bristled; Castiel never asked him, it was following orders or giving directions—faster, harder, more.
Dean shifted and put a hand between them to stroke Castiel, his hips faltering a little, but Castiel didn't mind. Dean spread Castiel's precome down his shaft, and Castiel keened underneath him. “Dean—yes—”
Dean took the encouragement, and kissed along Castiel's neck. The other man tipped his head back, baring his throat, feeling absolutely wrecked, but he'd let this Dean take him apart, see inside of him, let him figure out how he ticked. This Dean would still understand.
“Cas...you feel—” Dean could hardly speak, between the pleasure and trying to please Castiel in turn. “This is amazing...I—I—I'm sorry...”
“Don't you dare,” Castiel scolded. “Don't—don't leave this moment. Don't think about before or after.”
“Yeah,” Dean breathed. He looked over at the older Dean, who was looking away uncomfortably. “Forget everything after,” he agreed. He rocked into Castiel faster, and groaned, willing himself to get lost in the pleasure.
Castiel pulled him down for another kiss, and nipped softly at his lip. “Close,” he whispered, and Dean stroked him all the faster, wanting him to come, to come apart. Castiel whimpered as he approached the edge, and Dean leaned his head down to nose against Castiel's temple. “Come for me,” he whispered. “It won't be over, I'm not going anywhere...”
That did it for Castiel, knowing he wouldn't be left alone. He cried out as he spilled in Dean's hand, body wound tightly for a moment, and then the string snapping and leaving him limp. Dean went still, letting the contractions bring him to the brink, too, and then coming with his hips pressed against Castiel's, moaning in his ear.
When Dean sat up, Castiel had tears trickling from his eyes. Dean didn't pull out right away. He stayed close, and wrapped an arm under Castiel's waist, hugging him closer. “I've got you, Cas,” he murmured.
The other Dean watched them silently, but it hung in the air—he didn't have Cas, not really, and never would.
Castiel cupped Dean's cheek and kissed him slowly, lacking the words to say what he really wanted to tell Dean.
The older Dean finally rolled his eyes and went to bring them a wet washrag. “Here, clean up,” he said, offering it to younger Dean, who took it and finally pulled out and washed off.
Castiel sat up, pulling his knees to his chest. “Now what?” he asked.
Older Dean grinned a little. “I wanna fuck myself.”
Dean tipped his head. He'd never bottomed—well, not for a man, anyway, but he couldn't say he'd never had a curious girl go poking around a little—but who could he trust to be gentle more than himself? “Yeah...all right,” he said, slowly. “Can't pass that up.”
The other Dean smirked and grabbed the lube again. “You wanna do it, or want me to?”
Dean hesitated. “Um...you can,” he decided, and got onto his hands and knees. The older man got behind him and wasted no time in beginning to finger him open, though he wasn't rough about it.
“It's weird until it feels good,” the older Dean told him. “Guess I don't have to tell you.” He chuckled a little. “Rhonda Hurley and all.” Dean nodded, eyes closed, focused on how it felt. He was right, it was weird, but he knew it wouldn't stay weird.
Castiel raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask. He was too busy watching them, his cock already stirring again.
Dean groaned when his prostate was finally touched. There it was. “Yeah—” he panted.
Older Dean smirked. “I'd make you come like this, but I want you to come with me in you, on your own cock—who hasn't dreamed of this, right? I know every inch of you...”
Castiel moaned. He was already leaking precome again and started stroking himself. “Fuck...” he breathed, hardly able to believe the show he was getting.
Dean was rocking back onto his finger. “More,” he panted. “C'mon.” The other one obliged, adding another finger, crooking them sharply. Dean was coming undone and it wasn't long before the fingers were coming out.
“Up on your knees,” the older Dean ordered, and the younger man got up, nodding, flushed all down his chest, panting and already keyed up.
Future Dean pressed up behind him, sliding an arm around him, his other hand moving to line up. He pressed carefully past his rim, pushing in slowly. Dean tipped his head back against his own shoulder, moaning, arching back towards the other. “I can take it,” he murmured, so the older Dean pushed in the rest of the way with one slick stroke, and held the position, letting himself adjust. Dean bit his lip. “It's...it's a lot,” he murmured.
“You're not wrong,” Castiel told him. “Fucking amazing cock.”
Dean smiled and gave him a wink, until the other Dean started to move his hips and the smirk was gone. “God—I'm tight,” the older Dean said, grinning, squeezing his arm around his counterpart to keep him close and getting the most out of his strokes. He sucked down on Dean's shoulder, making him squirm.
“Not gonna last,” Dean told him. “Fuck—this—you—“ Truly, there was no comparing it. His counterpart moved exactly how he would've wished, knowing exactly how to please him.
“Yeah, yeah, fuck me,” the older Dean agreed. He wasn't entirely unaware of the feeling towards him right then, of everything he'd done, of how he didn't deserve the place Castiel let him have in the bed. He couldn't justify himself, other than that he'd felt like he had to prioritize other things than his relationships, in the face of an oncoming apocalypse—except for the thought now, in the back of his head, that that had been the wrong choice. Or maybe just one of a hundred wrong choices. He pushed the thought back down, though—there was the plan for tomorrow, and his own tight ass on his cock right that minute. There was no room to think that deeply.
Younger Dean ignored his words, rocking his hips with him. “Hell yes—” He was starting to regret not having had a few male flings over his rambling years. He probably could've gotten away with it, at least after his dad left, though maybe it wouldn't be the same with someone else. Before he left he was going to have to try it with Castiel.
Tonight. With any luck there wasn't going to be a tomorrow, not for him, not in this timeline. Hopefully there would be for everyone else, a better one.
“Gonna come for us?” older Dean growled.
“I—I—” Dean nodded, eyes closed, panting hard. “Yeah—” He was getting close, though the build was slower where he was only getting it from behind. But then he felt the bed shift and something wet on the head of his cock. He looked down and Castiel was there, lapping at his length, and he moaned deeply. He couldn't take his eyes off of Castiel as he stretched his pink lips around Dean's shaft, humming around him, taking him deeper and deeper. Castiel looked up at Dean as he bottomed out, blue eyes more intense than ever.
Dean carded a hand into his hair, playing with it gently. Castiel hummed again, closing his eyes, leaning into the touch. “Cas...gonna come,” he warned. Castiel's throat was wet and warm and Dean had already been close.
“Do it,” the other Dean urged. “Wanna feel you on me—Cas'll take it...”
Dean gasped sharply as he came, cock twitching in Castiel's throat. Castiel swallowed around him, milking him through it. The other Dean moaned and came, still pumping his hips until he was too sensitive to keep going.
Castiel pulled off and smirked. “God, you're gorgeous,” he informed the younger Dean.
Dean was leaning heavily on his counterpart, but he grinned down at Castiel. “So're you,” he murmured. “Your turn, what do you want?” he offered.
Castiel sat up with a languid grin. “Mmm...the whole point of this was to have two Deans...” He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs. He looked back at them over his shoulder. “And I want you both. On your knees.”
Older Dean grunted a little, frowning. He pulled out and younger Dean hissed softly. He looked back at his future self. “You don't want to?” he asked.
The older Dean shrugged. “Don't do it usually...”
“Yeah, well, Cas deserves it,” Dean snapped. “I'll be doing half the work anyway.”
Castiel perked up a little as Dean defended him. “Definitely like past you.”
Older Dean surveyed the other two and nodded. “Fine. This time.” He grabbed one of Castiel's pillows and tossed it onto the floor. Younger Dean grabbed the other one and knelt down on it. He immediately leaned in and mouthed at Castiel's inner thigh, sucking gentle kisses there, leaving soft pink marks in his wake. His cheek brushed against Castiel's cock and he didn't think twice. Fucking himself was interesting, but this? This felt right, so long as he didn't think about what was outside the cabin. Him and Cas? He couldn't fathom how he'd been denying it so long.
Older Dean knelt down next to him and Dean winced at the crack he heard in his knees. Castiel grabbed the back of his head and kissed him hungrily, holding him there for a moment. When he let go, Dean sank down and sucked a kiss to the crease of Castiel's hip as Castiel leaned back, bracing himself on his elbows, watching both Deans between his legs.
Younger Dean was the first to curiously lap at Castiel's cock, kitten-licking at the shaft, not sure what he was doing even though he'd been on the receiving end of things often enough—though, to his chagrin, never with two people working him at once. He wasn't surprised to just taste skin, a faint saltiness but really not much flavor at all. He licked a stripe down to the head and lapped at it. Older Dean kept kissing Castiel's hip and thigh.
Castiel curled his fingers around past Dean's head, scratching through the hair at the back of his neck. “Yeah—fuck, Dean—” he murmured. He was watching them both, not sure where to look as the two Deans bumped against each other.
The younger Dean looked up at Castiel, gave him a wink, and then took the head of his cock in his mouth. He played his tongue on the underside for a moment, and then started sucking, watching the other man's face.
Castiel didn't disappoint, his head dropping back as he moaned, making his pleasure known. “Geezus, Dean—”
Older Dean frowned a little, and moved back so he could tongue along Castiel's shaft, leaving his past self to work the head. Castiel arched up a little, writhing in pleasure. For all of his varied experience, he'd never had something like this, never had the focus be on him in this way, and that was almost as overwhelming as the actual, physical sensations of two mouths working his cock. He mostly tried to be a generous lover, to give more than he got, but for once he was going to take, and take, and take. This moment was the kind that came along less than once in a lifetime, that very few people would ever have a chance at, that was a little bit of magic in a life that he largely regarded as cursed, ever since he'd lost Dean. Seeing Dean around the camp every day did nothing to make it feel less like a loss, until today.
The Dean from the past started rolling Castiel's balls in his hand, and Castiel gasped in surprise. Apparently this Dean hadn't developed all his macho hangups yet. He seemed willing to explore and experiment, unlike the older Dean who usually just wanted to do one thing, his way, and be done. He tried to take Castiel a little deeper, but he wasn't experienced and had to back off a little when he hit his gag reflex. Castiel didn't mind, it left room for his current Dean to lick and suck on the base of his cock.
With all the stimulation, it didn't take long for Castiel to hit his peak. He gave Dean a word of warning, but he didn't stop, he just kept bobbing on the head of Castiel's cock, and Castiel came hard enough to see stars. Dean pulled off and swallowed, and got up on the bed with Castiel, pulling him close. Castiel rolled toward him and buried his face against Dean's chest, breathing him in. The older Dean gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, giving them space.
“How was that? How'd I do?” Dean asked him, softly, craving praise—he wanted to be sure that Castiel was truly getting all he wanted out of the encounter.
“Perfect,” Castiel assured him. “Fuck, Dean...” He couldn't say it out loud, but past Dean, still learning, was better than the more experienced version. He didn't want to anger current Dean, especially not before their big mission.
Dean kissed his forehead. “Good. Rest a minute,” he suggested.
“Don't wanna be done,” Castiel said. He was tiring, but he didn't want the moment to be over.
“We can go again,” Dean assured him. “Just—in a minute.” He needed a moment—not physically, but he could see that Castiel just wanted to be held.
The other Dean curled up behind Castiel. “When you're good to go again, you should fuck him,” he suggested, a whisper in Castiel's ear.
Past Dean nodded. “Yeah, if you want, Cas...” He had been pleasantly surprised by how good it felt to get fucked, and if he was being honest, he wanted it more from Castiel than he did from the hardened version of himself laying just on the other side of him.
Castiel grinned. “You've never let me...”
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, well...I liked it. I like you.”
Castiel's smile morphed into a smirk. “I like you, past Dean.”
The other Dean huffed behind him. “We could spit-roast him, Cas.”
Castiel turned and looked over his shoulder at him. “We could...what?”
Future Dean grinned. “He'd be up on his hands and knees, and he could blow me while you fuck him. He's up for it.”
“You know everything I'm up for,” Dean pointed out. “You already did it.”
Castiel nodded. “Yeah, about that...if he's so willing to do all this stuff, and you remember it all, how come you never want to do any of it?” he asked the older man.
Past Dean shook his head. “He's worried about his reputation.” He understood, though he was also beginning to understand how toxic that was, what it was holding him back from. The more of his older self he saw, the stronger his need not to go down that path became. He refused for this to be his actual future, and he wasn't going to make any choices that would let him get even close to going down this road.
Older Dean only grunted in response, refusing to confirm that. “Do you wanna do this or not, Cas?” he asked.
Castiel nodded. “Yeah, if—if Dean's all right with it, I do wanna...”
Dean nodded. “Yeah. I'll be the middle of the sandwich. Anything you want, Cas.” He lifted Castiel's chin and kissed him warmly. Castiel groaned softly, melting against him, parting his lips for him.
Castiel would've been all right with just making out with Dean for a while, were it not for the other one behind him, pressing his hard cock against Castiel's ass. After a moment Castiel reached back and nudged him away. “Okay, okay, I get it.” He moved to sit up, and the Deans followed suit, all of them moving around to get in position. Younger Dean got on his hands and knees, ass towards the headboard, and Castiel got on his knees between his legs. He grabbed the lube and slicked his cock up. “You still feel pretty open?” he asked Dean.
Dean nodded, backing towards him, and Castiel's cock bumped against his ass. Older Dean knelt in front of his past version's head. Castiel shook a finger at him. “Let me get in first.” He lined his cock up and pressed cautiously into Dean. “Is it all right?”
“I'm good,” Dean assured him. “Just don't jam it all in one go.”
“Of course not,” Castiel assured him, and he inched in slowly, steadying hands on Dean's hips. Dean hummed softly as Castiel got deeper. “I'm in,” Castiel said, once he was all the way inside.
“I'm good,” Dean repeated. “Okay. C'mere,” he said, to his counterpart, who was eager to scoot closer. Dean lifted a hand to guide the head of his cock into his mouth.
Castiel moaned softly. “Fucking hot,” he murmured. He started rolling his hips, and Dean let the movement help him bob on the older Dean's cock.
Future Dean reached down to grab at the other Dean's hair, guiding him a little, tugging gently. “Yeah, that's—yeah—”
Castiel kept up a steady pace, dragging languidly. He moaned softly, watching the other two, glancing down at his cock now and then, drinking it all in, wanting to save the memory for later.
In the middle, Dean was repeating what he'd done on Castiel to himself, moving his tongue on the underside as he sucked, moving his head a little, and he could tell it was working, even if he was a little distracted by Castiel's movements. The other Dean kept a hand in his hair, but he wasn't moving him much, liking what he was doing. His other hand went to Dean's shoulder to brace himself.
Castiel sped up a little, making Dean moan around the cock in his mouth. “Fuck, Dean, your sounds...” he breathed. Older Dean wasn't half so expressive, not anymore, though Castiel wasn't sure if he was more guarded now or if he just felt less.
The younger Dean was definitely willing to accept a little feedback, and he moaned again, vibrating around his cock. It pulled a soft groan out of the other Dean, and Castiel was loving it. He started thrusting faster, and the younger Dean was into it, too, rocking back to meet him, wanting more of the delicious pressure over his prostate—better from Castiel than it had been from himself, he had to admit. It didn't seem possible. If anyone should understand what he wanted, it should have been himself, but Castiel was pleasing him more.
Older Dean came first, despite his best efforts—younger Dean really did know exactly how to please him, and milked him through it. He pulled out and sat, watching the other two, but he was spent. He didn't have another round in him after that.
Castiel slowed his hips. “Mmm, Dean—on your back,” he said.
Dean looked at him over his shoulder. “You wanna...?” He nodded. “Yeah, Cas, sounds good.”
Castiel pulled out and let Dean change positions, laying on his back, spreading his legs even more than usual for him. It only took a moment before Castiel was pressing back in, thrilled at the smile it put on Dean's face to be filled up again. He didn't hesitate to lean over Dean and kiss him as he started moving his hips again.
Dean wrapped an arm around his neck, moaning against his lips. When they parted, it was only for Dean to whisper encouragement. “Yeah—Cas—fuck, faster—” He moaned and arched up against him. It surprised him to realize that this and fucking Castiel had been the best parts of the night, that the novelty of getting to fuck himself, of getting fucked by someone who knew every single one of his secret weaknesses didn't compare to the connection he was feeling with Castiel—and this wasn't even his Castiel. This was a Castiel that he'd broken, that he'd treated horribly and left wanting—until tonight at least.
Castiel was happy to oblige, driving in harder. He sucked kisses to Dean's neck, not caring about the marks he was leaving behind—and Dean found he didn't care, either.
When Castiel found himself close to the edge, he reached between them to stroke Dean's cock, wanting them to come together. He managed to pull it off. Dean moaned and left the mess of his release on Castiel's hand, and the way his body tightened had Castiel coming deep inside him, burying himself completely. When they were done Castiel laid on Dean's chest wearily, and he knew the night had come to an end. Dean draped an arm around his back. “You don't have to move,” he assured him, and Castiel nodded in acknowledgement. He wanted to stretch it all out as long as he could make it last.
It wasn't long. Older Dean cleared his throat and got off the bed. He went into the little bathroom to wash off, and when he came back he immediately started getting dressed.
“What are you doing?” the younger Dean asked him, a note of surprise in his voice.
“We gotta leave early,” he defended. “Gotta sleep.”
“Sleep here,” past Dean said. “Cas needs us.”
“Everybody needs us,” Dean said. “It never stops.” He didn't stop, either, and once he was dressed he left the cabin without another word.
Castiel sighed heavily, sadly. “We do have to be up early...” he murmured.
Dean shook his head. “We do, but I'm not going anywhere,” he said. He wasn't going to leave Castiel's side for a second longer than he had to. “I'll stay with you.”
Castiel lifted his head, and for a moment his eyes were glassy with tears. He shook his head, though, and simply kissed Dean rather than allow himself to be sad about someone being decent to him. He wasn't used to it anymore—maybe he never had been—but he was determined to drain every drop of happiness he could out of it.
Dean stroked his hair. “C'mon. Let's clean up,” he suggested. “And then get under the blankets?”
Castiel nodded. “Yeah, come on.” He pulled out, making Dean hiss softly. “Sorry.” He stood and offered Dean a hand, which he took, and led the way into the bathroom. After they cleaned up as much as they could with apocalypse plumbing, Dean brought him back to the bed and shook the blankets out, and got in. He patted the space in front of himself, and Castiel laid down with his back to Dean, curling up as the little spoon.
Dean pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I hope you feel better,” he murmured.
Castiel's hardened sarcasm crept back in, as a defense mechanism. “I just got my brains fucked out six ways from Sunday.”
Dean shook his head. “No, I mean—Cas, this—I don't know,” he said. “You deserve better than what you've gotten. And I wanted to—give you that.”
Castiel sighed. “I—I know. I'm sorry, I just—this is—it's been hard and it's made me hard, innuendo not intended.”
Dean snorted a little. “Right. I just—I'm gonna get back to my time, I can't stay here with you, you know. I want to stop all this, everything I do is gonna...”
“Make this never happen,” Castiel whispered. Dean wasn't sure if it was his guess, or a request.
“Yeah, exactly,” Dean said. “I just didn't want to leave here with you thinking that I was always the way your Dean is. That he never cared.”
Castiel closed his eyes, snuggling a little closer. “He's not my Dean. You're more my Dean than he ever could be.”
Dean sighed, and nuzzled at Castiel's neck. “You know what I mean.” He pressed a kiss to Castiel's skin. “Cas...I—”
“Don't say it,” Castiel said. “I can't take it.”
Dean nodded. “Well...I just want you to know.”
“Don't say it to me,” Castiel said. “Get back. Say it to the angel that needs to hear it.”
“Right.” Dean squeezed Castiel gently. “Well, at least I'm here for you tonight.”
“I'll take tonight,” Castiel agreed.
Dean wanted to say so much more, to confess, to make things really right, but he knew, deep in his heart of hearts, that it was too late. There was no fixing this timeline, and what he needed was to get back where he belonged and start over. He also wanted to kick his own ass, both for what he'd fucked up in the world and for how he'd let it affect Castiel. There was no point in talking about it, though, in upsetting Castiel more. Quiet was the sweetest thing. Castiel laced their fingers together and Dean literally felt him fall asleep, felt him relax and trust, and heard his heartbeat slow.
Despite his trepidations about the next day, and getting home, Dean closed his eyes. He let himself sleep, protectively curled around Castiel.
In the morning, Castiel's walls were mostly back up, sarcasm and jokes deflecting anything from being too serious. Dean let it slide. He got dressed and prepped with everyone else, and focused on the mission at hand—even when everything went horribly wrong.
As much as he hated being teleported, Dean was relieved to suddenly be pulled from the timeline, back to his dingy hotel room where he'd been trying to nap. So much for that. At least the place had a working shower, something he wasn't going to take for granted for a long, long time.
Zachariah tried his sales speech for the umpteenth time, but Dean wasn't having it. He didn't have to say yes to Michael to get away from that future. He was certain, he knew it in his gut. He was a Winchester, and playing by the rules, choosing an option handed to him instead of forging his own destiny, was simply out of the question. He wasn't sure how he was going to get away from the angel, but then suddenly he was teleported again.
Castiel. Perfect timing in more ways than one—Castiel was exactly the person Dean wanted to see. “That's pretty nice timing, Cas,” he said, grinning.
“We had an appointment,” Castiel reminded him. His smile was warm and genuine, and Dean felt his heart melt in response. Castiel was glowing more than the nearby streetlight, just pleased to see Dean, and Dean could finally see it for what it was.
Dean swallowed thickly and reached out to put a hand on Castiel's shoulder. “Don't ever change,” he said, slowly.
Castiel looked even more pleased to hear that, and was about to ask Dean something else, but Dean pulled him a little closer, took half a step closer himself, and slipped his arms around Castiel's shoulders. It was that easy, just that tiny effort, and they were hugging. Castiel took a few seconds to realize what was going on, but he slipped his arms around Dean's waist and hugged back. “What is this for?” he asked Dean, confused but not unhappy.
“I just saw what happens when I only focus on the mission and forget about the people I care about,” Dean said. “Zachariah showed me the future—well, a future,” he explained, pulling away from Castiel, but keeping the anchoring hand on his shoulder. “It ain't pretty and I'm not gonna let it happen.”
Castiel winced just a little. “The apocalypse,” he said, understanding immediately.
Dean nodded. “Yeah. He was trying to convince me to say yes to Michael, said he wanted to teach me a lesson, but...if that future or vision or dream or whatever was supposed to make me believe I should say yes, he got it all wrong. And I gotta call Sam, I need to get him back before he becomes Lucifer's meatsuit. But—but there's one other thing, real quick, first...”
Castiel tilted his head, unsure what could possibly be as important as that.
Dean moved his hand from Castiel's shoulder to cup his cheek, and leaned in to kiss him.
Castiel froze again, just for a second, but then he slid an arm around Dean's neck, pressing against him, hugging him close again as he kissed back.
Dean lingered for a moment, before breaking the kiss to press his forehead to Castiel's. “The world's ending,” he said, slowly. “Maybe. Not if we can stop it. But—whatever happens, I want you next to me.”
“Dean?” Castiel asked, breathlessly.
Dean took a second to build up his courage. “Not gonna deny it anymore,” he said. “I love you, Cas. Don't care if it's wrong or right or whatever. Feels right, though.”
Castiel nodded slowly. “I—you must already know I love you, too,” he said. “Heaven won't be happy, you know they think I'm too close to you already.”
Dean shrugged. “Let 'em try and take you from me,” he said. “You have a place with me and Sam and I'll fight them to the death. And we'll get just exactly as close as we wanna be.”
Castiel shivered in his arms. “Yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “I want that.”
“All right then,” Dean said. “Don't expect me to be real good at...feelings and stuff. But I'll try. And we'll fight our way out and hopefully when it's all over we're both still standing.” He peeled away and took Castiel's hand. “And hell, I don't know, maybe we'll even live happily ever after.” He grinned at Castiel affectionately.
Castiel smiled adoringly. “I think we can win,” he said. “And I'll fight with you even if we don't.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah. I think we've got a shot.” It felt, somehow, like the tide had turned, even with the dire warning he'd just been given. He smiled and took his phone out of his pocket. “Not to ruin the moment, but I gotta make things right with Sam, too, I can't let him—we gotta go after him.”
Castiel nodded. “Of course. I understand.” He squeezed Dean's hand reassuringly. Sometimes there were just bigger things to worry about, but he was happy. They were together and the line of communication was open. No matter how much Dean said he was bad at it, Castiel felt like they would be able to work through things.
Dean dialed Sam and put the phone up to his ear.
And with that, the other timeline withered out of existence.
And it wasn't even just that everyone had to live in camp Chitaqua, in ramshackle cabins with dubious plumbing, or that Sam was gone (in ways he didn't even want to think about thinking about).
He'd ruined Cas. Castiel, his rock, the one person he could count on had fallen in every possible way and there was no fixing him. Cas being sarcastic and finally understanding human interaction was something Dean wanted to see in Castiel's future, if he was being honest, but not at the price of addiction and reckless promiscuity.
It made him sad—Castiel had turned into Dean, cranked to eleven. And while Dean liked to think that he kept himself in check, he knew he wasn't the healthiest person for anyone to model themselves on.
After the big meeting, Dean had a terrible, terrible feeling about his (his?) plan, and an even worse feeling about what this place had turned him into, and God, he'd never wanted anything more than to just go home. He was walking along to his assigned quarters when a low wolf whistle sounded from a darkened porch.
Castiel's porch.
"You know, I wasn't kidding. I like past you. I always did," Castiel told him with a smirk.
Dean halted in his tracks and stared over at Castiel for a long moment. After some consideration, he stepped closer, close enough that they could talk without the whole camp overhearing. Dean leaned on the porch rail. "What are you telling me, Cas?"
Castiel, eyes bloodshot in the dim light coming from his door, laughed lowly. "You're hot, and I want to fuck you," he said. "You, not now you—well, I mean, I have now you. A couple of times now. When he's angry and desperate."
Dean's eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. "You and me?"
Castiel rolled his eyes. "Don't look so surprised, we've had sexual tension from the day we met. Remember that? Darkened barn, sparks literally flying? Just because I was too naïve to understand it doesn't make it any less real."
Dean lifted his eyes upward to contemplate it, brows furrowing in concentration.
Castiel smiled bitterly up at him. "You finally caved after Sam was gone," he said. "Bobby was already dead. The people he was afraid would find out about his latent lusts were gone, so he came to me for comfort. We lived together for a while. It was just cuddles at first, there was only one bed to spare for us, and then we finally fucked—and, God, it was amazing. But he had his big gay freakout and moved out and that was mostly the end of that. And that was when I turned into this." Castiel motioned at himself. "Nothing fills the hole it left. But it dulls the pain. Every once in a while, when a raid goes wrong, he comes to me for...comfort. But it's just for him to work out his frustration, he doesn't mean anything by it."
"God, Cas..." Dean raked a hand through his hair. "I never wanted this for you." It really had been him that ruined Castiel, that twisted the angel into something nearly unrecognizable.
The laugh that passed Castiel's lips was anything but jovial. "I'm sure you didn't, Dean...you haven't gotten anything you wanted." He shook his head. "The sick thing is, if you—well, if he came to me and said he wanted to try again, I'd still let him fuck with me, even though I know he couldn't possibly keep it up."
"Shut up," Dean told him. "I don't wanna know."
The other Dean—the older, possibly not wiser but certainly more experienced one—stepped close just in time to hear it. "Cas, lay off. He doesn't need to know."
Castiel laughed again, but this time it was seductive. "Well, well, well...two Deans. One Cas. Hell of an opportunity here. We really shouldn't let it go to waste, past Dean certainly won't be sticking around long."
"Past" Dean stared over at Castiel in disbelief. "Cas. I'm not gay."
He rolled his eyes. "You always say that, and yet when we're together I'm always 'the best you ever had,'" he said, lifting his fingers for air quotes.
And damned if Dean's cock didn't twitch in curiosity at that. He'd always been drawn to the forbidden, and yeah, he'd jerked off to the making-out-with-himself fantasy once or twice. This was the closest he'd ever get to that. The fact that the whole act would be a giant middle finger to Zachariah and the rest of the dick angels didn't hurt, either.
"Cas, drop it," the other Dean said.
Dean looked over at his future counterpart. "Do I do this?" he asked.
"Huh?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "If you're me, you'll have the memory of having gone through with this. As me."
The other Dean, haggard, worn, beaten, sighed. "Yeah. You do this." He sounded like he could barely believe he was saying it, even while he was thinking over the memory.
The younger Dean still hoped this entire timeline could be changed, but while he was in it, there really wasn't much point in not enjoying its few pleasures. "Okay then." He looked over at Cas. "Looks like you get your wish, loverboy."
The look on Castiel's face could only be described as gleeful, like he'd just been granted his dying wish.
God. Dean sucked at choosing metaphors.
"Seriously?" the other Dean asked. "I mean...maybe you should try not doing what I remember. Change your future, change my past."
Dean glared at himself. "My mind's made up on this. No more discussion." Amazingly, that worked, the other Dean rolled his eyes, tossed his hands heavenward, and stepped up on Castiel's porch to walk inside. Castiel stood and offered a hand to Dean.
Dean felt surprisingly tender as he took it, allowing Castiel to walk him inside. The other Dean had already shed his jacket and was sitting on the bed, and Castiel tied the curtain door shut. He bustled about, grabbing a bottle of lube and lighting some incense on the nightstand. And then he turned to face Dean with an intense stare that reminded Dean strongly of the old Cas, the Cas he knew and—loved?
The realization hit Dean like a ton of bricks.
It explained a lot, really, not the least of which was why he wanted it.
It made him want to carry through, to try to atone to this future Castiel for his sins, in not knowing, in not piecing the puzzle together in time. He couldn't fix him, but he could grant him one wish, one night of ecstasy (though hopefully that wasn't among the things Castiel had taken that day).
Dean didn't have time to linger on the thought, though, before Castiel stalked close, fisting both hands in the front of his t-shirt and pressing their mouths together in a heated kiss. Dean let him have it, bending to Castiel's will, allowed himself to be pressed up against the wall. Dean clutched at Castiel's hips, leaving fingerprint bruises, while Castiel explored his mouth—it was strange, because Castiel clearly knew his way around even though Dean had never kissed him.
"Oh, come on, at least get on the bed," the other Dean protested.
Castiel broke the kiss and looked in Dean's eyes, already darkened with lust and curiosity. He nodded. "Yes, of course." He pushed Dean's jacket off his shoulders, and then roughly tugged him forward, turned him, and pushed him down on the bed.
The two Deans were left sitting next to each other, and Castiel staring at them. Castiel licked his lips—to wet his mouth or to make himself more desirable, hard to say. Older Dean raised an eyebrow, and then Castiel grinned. He slowly started unlacing the neckline of his shirt, allowing the neck to slide open. He made a motion, a slight shimmy of hips and shake of shoulders that was almost, but not quite, a dance move, and it shifted his shirt, exposing half his collarbone and his upper arm.
Younger Dean stared unabashed, leaning forward a bit as all the blood rushed toward his dick.
A small huff of laughter passed older Dean's lips and Dean turned to stare at him. "Like you don't get it," he said, rolling his eyes. He turned and looked back at Castiel.
Castiel raised both arms over his head, still sashaying-in-place, and a strip of midriff and hip showed—he was even skinnier now, and his hipbones jutted, his belly soft but taut between them. Dean's cock twitched as he thought about putting his mouth on the soft skin there. Castiel then grabbed the back of the neck of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth, graceful motion. He dropped the shirt to the floor and continued his little dance, spreading his arms out as if motioning to indicate a bountiful table.
Dean couldn't help but think that he wanted a bite of it.
Castiel shimmied a bit closer and swung his hips toward the Dean he was used to. The other Dean obligingly reached a hand forward and popped the button on Castiel's jeans; that was all it took for the low-slung garment to start sliding down. The gray waistband of Castiel's boxers had been visible, but now the dark blue plaid was starting to show. Even though he had to step out of his jeans, Castiel couldn't have made the motion any sexier without aid of a pole. He did a bit of a twirl then, shaking his booty in both Dean's faces. When he faced them again, his erection was obvious. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and played with it for it a moment, pulling it away from his skin, letting it back in close, before finally letting them drop and pool on the floor. He did another quick spin before standing and looking at them, arms crossed.
Dean saw a legitimate grin on the older version of him for the first time since he'd arrived, and the other man slowly began to applaud. Dean looked over at him, and the two Deans locked eyes. Dean put a hand on the other's chest, and they both leaned in.
Their lips met, and it was both not weird and the weirdest thing ever. They both knew exactly what the other wanted and how to give it; the kiss was gentle, and if the whole thing hadn't been a giant experiment, it would've been sweet. Older Dean was the one that finally gave in and slipped tongue into the mix; younger Dean took it and sucked gently.
Castiel couldn't leave them alone long, though, and he got on the bed, crawling into younger Dean's lap—the Dean he really wanted, the one he'd been in love with once. Maybe still was, in a highly dysfunctional, twisted kind of way.
Dean registered the weight, and he slipped a hand to rest on Castiel's hip, then the small of his back as he got closer. Dean nearly broke the kiss with himself in order to give Castiel some proper attention, but then Castiel's mouth sealed itself to his pulse point and he moaned into the kiss. The other Dean raked his fingernails gently down Castiel's spine, making him rock his hips side-to-side where he was straddled over Dean's legs. He pressed his tongue in, exploring his past self's mouth (it felt different, approaching it from the other side) while said past self was nearly boneless.
Castiel slipped one hand under each of their shirts, still sucking hard on Dean's neck. After a moment, older Dean finally broke the kiss in order to tug his shirt off over his head. Castiel moved both hands to touch the man he was straddling, stroking fingertips gingerly over his abs, pushing his t-shirt up. Dean leaned forward a little to shrug out of his overshirt and then cooperated with Castiel, lifting his arms so that Castiel could strip him, too. He let Castiel push him down, let Castiel rut against him while he sucked on his neck.
Older Dean didn't let it slide for long, though. He pulled Castiel off and laid down on top of himself, sucking down hard on all the spots he knew got to himself, essentially leaving a road map made of hickeys for Castiel to follow. Dean couldn't do anything but moan and writhe; Castiel just watched until the older Dean sat back.
It was strange; they were more similar than twins and now with clothes starting to disappear there were even fewer markers to distinguish them, and Castiel could no longer see souls, but even so, he could tell the two Deans apart with no effort. What a difference five years made.
Castiel moved to older Dean and palmed his cock through his pants. Dean groaned and leaned toward Castiel, who moved to unbutton and unzip his fly. Younger Dean got up on his knees and pressed himself to Castiel's back. He bit down on Castiel's neck and then laved his tongue over the mark he made; he then sucked down. Castiel gasped and though he put a hand on the other Dean's cock, his motions were short and stuttering while Dean distracted him with pleasure, arms wrapped around his waist.
Dean rutted against Castiel's ass, seeking friction. After a moment, the other Dean gently shoved Castiel to the side and leaned forward to kiss himself again. His hands moved down and he unfastened the other's pants, pushing them down and letting past Dean's cock spring out from its trap.
Dean laid back on the bed again to let the other two pull his pants and boxers off. Castiel did it, but then kissed him hungrily, and tangled a hand in his hair. Both of Castiel's hands were on his shoulders when he suddenly felt another touch on his cock. He moaned, the slow strokes were absolutely perfect, and he realized what was happening. The other Dean was doing it exactly how he liked, knowing the way only he could. Dean broke the kiss with Castiel and forced himself up on his elbows. He looked and met his own green gaze staring back at him, and stared until the stroking stopped. He got up on his knees and put a hand in the other's—his own?—pants.
Older Dean's eyes fluttered closed. Castiel moved to suck on his neck as younger Dean palmed and rubbed at his cock. Dean felt weird touching another man's junk, but at the same time, it wasn't, really. It was still his own, in a weird way. Older Dean moaned happily, only able to stay upright because of Castiel holding him there, and younger Dean pulled his cock out to stroke it properly.
"It's better with the lube," Castiel told younger Dean. "It's one thing that didn't fly off the shelves when the stores got looted." He nodded toward the nightstand and Dean picked up the small bottle. He poured a few drops in his hand and let them drip around to warm up before starting to stroke, well, himself again.
Older Dean pulled Castiel in to kiss him properly, moaning into it as the other Dean pumped slowly, building it up.
Castiel pressed close, and older Dean was half rutting into his counterpart's hand, half frotting on Castiel. Dean moved in to suck on the other side of his neck and older Dean moaned, eyes fluttering, nearly overwhelmed with pleasure.
Castiel broke the kiss in order to kiss past Dean, and found himself torn. He ended up going back and forth between the two of them, sucking hickeys on the necks of both Deans, one hand fondling the balls of older Dean as younger Dean kept up his handjob. With all the attention, it didn't take long for older Dean to climax, painting Castiel's belly with a white rope of come.
Castiel chuckled darkly as older Dean leaned against him, panting. "Always did like to mark your territory."
"Shut up."
"Make me," Castiel challenged, but before the argument could continue, he let out a soft groan—younger Dean had nudged his head in between them and was licking the come clean. Castiel grasped his hair softly, carding his fingers through it.
Older Dean looked down. "God damn."
Castiel rolled his eyes. "Blasphemy," he chided, clearly amused at the thought.
Dean looked up at him, eyes framed with long lashes. "S'not funny," he murmured, and pressed a soft kiss to Castiel's belly.
Castiel shook his head. "Nothing is, anymore."
Dean sighed and pulled away. He wanted to say something, felt like he should say something, but he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't ruin the mood.
The other Dean moved in and kissed Castiel's neck. "I think you should lay down and hand me the lube," he said, and Castiel scrambled to obey, eager for even the smallest direction. He handed the bottle to the elder Dean and then stretched out on his stomach, folding his arms and resting his cheek on his forearm. Older Dean grabbed a handful of his perky ass with a soft growl, and Castiel purred. He tipped the bottle over and poured some of the lube in Castiel's crack, and then moved to finger at his entrance, spreading it around.
Younger Dean swallowed thickly, thinking he would suddenly come at the slightest touch. Seeing Castiel laying there pliant and ready, and watching himself finger him, was probably the most erotic thing he'd ever experienced.
Castiel looked over his shoulder and smirked at him. "See? You want this. You've always wanted this." Dean narrowed his eyes at him, suddenly wanting nothing more than to wipe the smirk off his face, but he held back.
Older Dean had already worked his way up to two fingers, since Castiel was well used to the intrusion by now. Honestly, Castiel liked the burn of taking it a little too fast. It was a feeling that wasn't aching for Dean—not exactly. He arched back towards Dean's fingers, wanting it deeper, faster—ready for a hard fuck.
Dean scooted higher up on the bed, sitting near Castiel's face. Castiel smirked and reached over to start jerking him off. Dean gasped and bit his lip, willing himself not to come just yet. Castiel's hand felt heavenly—damn it, he hadn't meant that one either—but he wanted to wait, to come inside of Castiel, to give the angel what he wanted. After a few strokes he shook his head and grabbed Castiel's wrist to stop him. “No,” he murmured. “Cas—want—wanna fuck you.”
Castiel looked surprised, but he moved his hand away, idly stroking Dean's inner thigh instead, something to keep him keyed up but not push him over that edge.
Older Dean looked up after a few minutes. “He's ready,” he said, pulling his fingers out. “All stretched for you. Don't think too hard, it's not any different than what you've done before. He can take it.”
Dean didn't like the sound of that, like Castiel was just some old, used-up plaything, broken in and unappreciated. He nodded, though. “Roll over, Cas,” he said, as he moved down so he could get between Castiel's legs.
Castiel raised an eyebrow. “What, you want to look at me?” he asked, and Dean's heart broke all over again.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Cas, of course...I...” He couldn't explain. He couldn't go and tell this Castiel he loved him, not with the proof otherwise sitting right there on the bed with them. Or maybe the older version of himself did love Castiel, but had too much else to cope with. Dean himself could barely keep his head wrapped around this new truth, the one that had hit him so hard. Or maybe the older man had simply become a shitty person. Starting from who he was now, it didn't feel like much of a reach to Dean, not with everything that had befallen him and Castiel. If the older Dean did love him, he certainly wasn't doing it right.
Whatever it was, Castiel rolled onto his back, and looked up at the younger Dean almost reverently. Dean couldn't help but think that Castiel was finally getting what he had deserved all along, which at some point he'd grown incapable of giving to him anymore—and he wasn't sure yet how he could circumvent this awful, awful outcome, but he was completely committed to doing exactly that, erasing the entire damn timeline Back-to-the-Future-2 style, making things right. Because whatever “right” was, this wasn't it—sex with Cas, sure, but not any of the rest of it.
Dean moved in closer, kneeling in front of Castiel, whose inner thighs rested on top of Dean's as he got into a good position. Dean took his cock in hand and tentatively pressed the tip against Castiel's rim. It was easier to push in than he imagined, though he hesitated to go deep right off the bat.
“He's not wrong, I can take it,” Castiel assured Dean. Dean nodded, with a bit of a grunt, but he pressed slowly anyway, wanting to savor it for himself—Castiel was hot and tight, so much tighter than what he was used to, and he wanted to drag it out. Maybe he should've let himself come before getting this far, after all, but it was too late now.
The older Dean watched, almost amused, and stroked himself slowly. “He likes it faster,” he told his younger counterpart.
“I've got this,” Dean snapped. He got himself buried to the hilt, and adjusted his knees on the bed so he was closer to Castiel. He leaned down over the other man, chest-to-chest, and pressed kisses along his jaw before he even started to move. “How you holding up, angel?” he murmured.
“Haven't...been that, in a long time,” Castiel breathed, barely loud enough for the other Dean to hear. “You've never called me that.”
Dean sucked softly under his ear, giving Castiel just the slightest roll of his hips. “Don't—don't get hung up on it,” he said, soothingly. “Just want to know if you feel as good right now as I do...” He bottomed out again and kept rolling slowly, and the dragged-out moan from Castiel was all the answer he really needed. Dean cupped his cheek, turning his face so he could kiss his lips again.
Castiel wrapped an arm around Dean's neck, arching towards him, clinging to him. It wasn't just the slow in-and-out of Dean's cock, but it was all the electric skin-to-skin contact between them, shoulder-to-knee, practically. Castiel felt lit up in a way the drugs and the Dean he'd been stuck with had never quite managed. He would've given anything to have this Dean stay forever, and he tried to explain it to Dean without words, pouring it into the kiss they were sharing.
The other Dean felt the moment, and left them to it instead of jumping in, just handling himself for the moment.
Dean thought of pulling away from Castiel to kiss other places, but the hand Castiel had on the back of his neck kept him right where he was, and he was happy to give Castiel what he needed. He sped his hips up a little, driving in faster, but still not hard or rough. If Castiel was used to being ridden hard and fast, it certainly didn't seem to be what he wanted right then. Dean thought to wonder if that was because he didn't like it generally, or if it was because this time it was him, the Dean Castiel thought he'd lost long before.
Castiel pulled away, only to moan deeply. “Fuck, Dean—” He panted softly. “It's never—been like this—”
“Shh,” Dean murmured. “Enjoy it.”
Castiel nodded. “Touch me?” he requested. “Please?” The other Dean bristled; Castiel never asked him, it was following orders or giving directions—faster, harder, more.
Dean shifted and put a hand between them to stroke Castiel, his hips faltering a little, but Castiel didn't mind. Dean spread Castiel's precome down his shaft, and Castiel keened underneath him. “Dean—yes—”
Dean took the encouragement, and kissed along Castiel's neck. The other man tipped his head back, baring his throat, feeling absolutely wrecked, but he'd let this Dean take him apart, see inside of him, let him figure out how he ticked. This Dean would still understand.
“Cas...you feel—” Dean could hardly speak, between the pleasure and trying to please Castiel in turn. “This is amazing...I—I—I'm sorry...”
“Don't you dare,” Castiel scolded. “Don't—don't leave this moment. Don't think about before or after.”
“Yeah,” Dean breathed. He looked over at the older Dean, who was looking away uncomfortably. “Forget everything after,” he agreed. He rocked into Castiel faster, and groaned, willing himself to get lost in the pleasure.
Castiel pulled him down for another kiss, and nipped softly at his lip. “Close,” he whispered, and Dean stroked him all the faster, wanting him to come, to come apart. Castiel whimpered as he approached the edge, and Dean leaned his head down to nose against Castiel's temple. “Come for me,” he whispered. “It won't be over, I'm not going anywhere...”
That did it for Castiel, knowing he wouldn't be left alone. He cried out as he spilled in Dean's hand, body wound tightly for a moment, and then the string snapping and leaving him limp. Dean went still, letting the contractions bring him to the brink, too, and then coming with his hips pressed against Castiel's, moaning in his ear.
When Dean sat up, Castiel had tears trickling from his eyes. Dean didn't pull out right away. He stayed close, and wrapped an arm under Castiel's waist, hugging him closer. “I've got you, Cas,” he murmured.
The other Dean watched them silently, but it hung in the air—he didn't have Cas, not really, and never would.
Castiel cupped Dean's cheek and kissed him slowly, lacking the words to say what he really wanted to tell Dean.
The older Dean finally rolled his eyes and went to bring them a wet washrag. “Here, clean up,” he said, offering it to younger Dean, who took it and finally pulled out and washed off.
Castiel sat up, pulling his knees to his chest. “Now what?” he asked.
Older Dean grinned a little. “I wanna fuck myself.”
Dean tipped his head. He'd never bottomed—well, not for a man, anyway, but he couldn't say he'd never had a curious girl go poking around a little—but who could he trust to be gentle more than himself? “Yeah...all right,” he said, slowly. “Can't pass that up.”
The other Dean smirked and grabbed the lube again. “You wanna do it, or want me to?”
Dean hesitated. “Um...you can,” he decided, and got onto his hands and knees. The older man got behind him and wasted no time in beginning to finger him open, though he wasn't rough about it.
“It's weird until it feels good,” the older Dean told him. “Guess I don't have to tell you.” He chuckled a little. “Rhonda Hurley and all.” Dean nodded, eyes closed, focused on how it felt. He was right, it was weird, but he knew it wouldn't stay weird.
Castiel raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask. He was too busy watching them, his cock already stirring again.
Dean groaned when his prostate was finally touched. There it was. “Yeah—” he panted.
Older Dean smirked. “I'd make you come like this, but I want you to come with me in you, on your own cock—who hasn't dreamed of this, right? I know every inch of you...”
Castiel moaned. He was already leaking precome again and started stroking himself. “Fuck...” he breathed, hardly able to believe the show he was getting.
Dean was rocking back onto his finger. “More,” he panted. “C'mon.” The other one obliged, adding another finger, crooking them sharply. Dean was coming undone and it wasn't long before the fingers were coming out.
“Up on your knees,” the older Dean ordered, and the younger man got up, nodding, flushed all down his chest, panting and already keyed up.
Future Dean pressed up behind him, sliding an arm around him, his other hand moving to line up. He pressed carefully past his rim, pushing in slowly. Dean tipped his head back against his own shoulder, moaning, arching back towards the other. “I can take it,” he murmured, so the older Dean pushed in the rest of the way with one slick stroke, and held the position, letting himself adjust. Dean bit his lip. “It's...it's a lot,” he murmured.
“You're not wrong,” Castiel told him. “Fucking amazing cock.”
Dean smiled and gave him a wink, until the other Dean started to move his hips and the smirk was gone. “God—I'm tight,” the older Dean said, grinning, squeezing his arm around his counterpart to keep him close and getting the most out of his strokes. He sucked down on Dean's shoulder, making him squirm.
“Not gonna last,” Dean told him. “Fuck—this—you—“ Truly, there was no comparing it. His counterpart moved exactly how he would've wished, knowing exactly how to please him.
“Yeah, yeah, fuck me,” the older Dean agreed. He wasn't entirely unaware of the feeling towards him right then, of everything he'd done, of how he didn't deserve the place Castiel let him have in the bed. He couldn't justify himself, other than that he'd felt like he had to prioritize other things than his relationships, in the face of an oncoming apocalypse—except for the thought now, in the back of his head, that that had been the wrong choice. Or maybe just one of a hundred wrong choices. He pushed the thought back down, though—there was the plan for tomorrow, and his own tight ass on his cock right that minute. There was no room to think that deeply.
Younger Dean ignored his words, rocking his hips with him. “Hell yes—” He was starting to regret not having had a few male flings over his rambling years. He probably could've gotten away with it, at least after his dad left, though maybe it wouldn't be the same with someone else. Before he left he was going to have to try it with Castiel.
Tonight. With any luck there wasn't going to be a tomorrow, not for him, not in this timeline. Hopefully there would be for everyone else, a better one.
“Gonna come for us?” older Dean growled.
“I—I—” Dean nodded, eyes closed, panting hard. “Yeah—” He was getting close, though the build was slower where he was only getting it from behind. But then he felt the bed shift and something wet on the head of his cock. He looked down and Castiel was there, lapping at his length, and he moaned deeply. He couldn't take his eyes off of Castiel as he stretched his pink lips around Dean's shaft, humming around him, taking him deeper and deeper. Castiel looked up at Dean as he bottomed out, blue eyes more intense than ever.
Dean carded a hand into his hair, playing with it gently. Castiel hummed again, closing his eyes, leaning into the touch. “Cas...gonna come,” he warned. Castiel's throat was wet and warm and Dean had already been close.
“Do it,” the other Dean urged. “Wanna feel you on me—Cas'll take it...”
Dean gasped sharply as he came, cock twitching in Castiel's throat. Castiel swallowed around him, milking him through it. The other Dean moaned and came, still pumping his hips until he was too sensitive to keep going.
Castiel pulled off and smirked. “God, you're gorgeous,” he informed the younger Dean.
Dean was leaning heavily on his counterpart, but he grinned down at Castiel. “So're you,” he murmured. “Your turn, what do you want?” he offered.
Castiel sat up with a languid grin. “Mmm...the whole point of this was to have two Deans...” He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs. He looked back at them over his shoulder. “And I want you both. On your knees.”
Older Dean grunted a little, frowning. He pulled out and younger Dean hissed softly. He looked back at his future self. “You don't want to?” he asked.
The older Dean shrugged. “Don't do it usually...”
“Yeah, well, Cas deserves it,” Dean snapped. “I'll be doing half the work anyway.”
Castiel perked up a little as Dean defended him. “Definitely like past you.”
Older Dean surveyed the other two and nodded. “Fine. This time.” He grabbed one of Castiel's pillows and tossed it onto the floor. Younger Dean grabbed the other one and knelt down on it. He immediately leaned in and mouthed at Castiel's inner thigh, sucking gentle kisses there, leaving soft pink marks in his wake. His cheek brushed against Castiel's cock and he didn't think twice. Fucking himself was interesting, but this? This felt right, so long as he didn't think about what was outside the cabin. Him and Cas? He couldn't fathom how he'd been denying it so long.
Older Dean knelt down next to him and Dean winced at the crack he heard in his knees. Castiel grabbed the back of his head and kissed him hungrily, holding him there for a moment. When he let go, Dean sank down and sucked a kiss to the crease of Castiel's hip as Castiel leaned back, bracing himself on his elbows, watching both Deans between his legs.
Younger Dean was the first to curiously lap at Castiel's cock, kitten-licking at the shaft, not sure what he was doing even though he'd been on the receiving end of things often enough—though, to his chagrin, never with two people working him at once. He wasn't surprised to just taste skin, a faint saltiness but really not much flavor at all. He licked a stripe down to the head and lapped at it. Older Dean kept kissing Castiel's hip and thigh.
Castiel curled his fingers around past Dean's head, scratching through the hair at the back of his neck. “Yeah—fuck, Dean—” he murmured. He was watching them both, not sure where to look as the two Deans bumped against each other.
The younger Dean looked up at Castiel, gave him a wink, and then took the head of his cock in his mouth. He played his tongue on the underside for a moment, and then started sucking, watching the other man's face.
Castiel didn't disappoint, his head dropping back as he moaned, making his pleasure known. “Geezus, Dean—”
Older Dean frowned a little, and moved back so he could tongue along Castiel's shaft, leaving his past self to work the head. Castiel arched up a little, writhing in pleasure. For all of his varied experience, he'd never had something like this, never had the focus be on him in this way, and that was almost as overwhelming as the actual, physical sensations of two mouths working his cock. He mostly tried to be a generous lover, to give more than he got, but for once he was going to take, and take, and take. This moment was the kind that came along less than once in a lifetime, that very few people would ever have a chance at, that was a little bit of magic in a life that he largely regarded as cursed, ever since he'd lost Dean. Seeing Dean around the camp every day did nothing to make it feel less like a loss, until today.
The Dean from the past started rolling Castiel's balls in his hand, and Castiel gasped in surprise. Apparently this Dean hadn't developed all his macho hangups yet. He seemed willing to explore and experiment, unlike the older Dean who usually just wanted to do one thing, his way, and be done. He tried to take Castiel a little deeper, but he wasn't experienced and had to back off a little when he hit his gag reflex. Castiel didn't mind, it left room for his current Dean to lick and suck on the base of his cock.
With all the stimulation, it didn't take long for Castiel to hit his peak. He gave Dean a word of warning, but he didn't stop, he just kept bobbing on the head of Castiel's cock, and Castiel came hard enough to see stars. Dean pulled off and swallowed, and got up on the bed with Castiel, pulling him close. Castiel rolled toward him and buried his face against Dean's chest, breathing him in. The older Dean gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, giving them space.
“How was that? How'd I do?” Dean asked him, softly, craving praise—he wanted to be sure that Castiel was truly getting all he wanted out of the encounter.
“Perfect,” Castiel assured him. “Fuck, Dean...” He couldn't say it out loud, but past Dean, still learning, was better than the more experienced version. He didn't want to anger current Dean, especially not before their big mission.
Dean kissed his forehead. “Good. Rest a minute,” he suggested.
“Don't wanna be done,” Castiel said. He was tiring, but he didn't want the moment to be over.
“We can go again,” Dean assured him. “Just—in a minute.” He needed a moment—not physically, but he could see that Castiel just wanted to be held.
The other Dean curled up behind Castiel. “When you're good to go again, you should fuck him,” he suggested, a whisper in Castiel's ear.
Past Dean nodded. “Yeah, if you want, Cas...” He had been pleasantly surprised by how good it felt to get fucked, and if he was being honest, he wanted it more from Castiel than he did from the hardened version of himself laying just on the other side of him.
Castiel grinned. “You've never let me...”
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, well...I liked it. I like you.”
Castiel's smile morphed into a smirk. “I like you, past Dean.”
The other Dean huffed behind him. “We could spit-roast him, Cas.”
Castiel turned and looked over his shoulder at him. “We could...what?”
Future Dean grinned. “He'd be up on his hands and knees, and he could blow me while you fuck him. He's up for it.”
“You know everything I'm up for,” Dean pointed out. “You already did it.”
Castiel nodded. “Yeah, about that...if he's so willing to do all this stuff, and you remember it all, how come you never want to do any of it?” he asked the older man.
Past Dean shook his head. “He's worried about his reputation.” He understood, though he was also beginning to understand how toxic that was, what it was holding him back from. The more of his older self he saw, the stronger his need not to go down that path became. He refused for this to be his actual future, and he wasn't going to make any choices that would let him get even close to going down this road.
Older Dean only grunted in response, refusing to confirm that. “Do you wanna do this or not, Cas?” he asked.
Castiel nodded. “Yeah, if—if Dean's all right with it, I do wanna...”
Dean nodded. “Yeah. I'll be the middle of the sandwich. Anything you want, Cas.” He lifted Castiel's chin and kissed him warmly. Castiel groaned softly, melting against him, parting his lips for him.
Castiel would've been all right with just making out with Dean for a while, were it not for the other one behind him, pressing his hard cock against Castiel's ass. After a moment Castiel reached back and nudged him away. “Okay, okay, I get it.” He moved to sit up, and the Deans followed suit, all of them moving around to get in position. Younger Dean got on his hands and knees, ass towards the headboard, and Castiel got on his knees between his legs. He grabbed the lube and slicked his cock up. “You still feel pretty open?” he asked Dean.
Dean nodded, backing towards him, and Castiel's cock bumped against his ass. Older Dean knelt in front of his past version's head. Castiel shook a finger at him. “Let me get in first.” He lined his cock up and pressed cautiously into Dean. “Is it all right?”
“I'm good,” Dean assured him. “Just don't jam it all in one go.”
“Of course not,” Castiel assured him, and he inched in slowly, steadying hands on Dean's hips. Dean hummed softly as Castiel got deeper. “I'm in,” Castiel said, once he was all the way inside.
“I'm good,” Dean repeated. “Okay. C'mere,” he said, to his counterpart, who was eager to scoot closer. Dean lifted a hand to guide the head of his cock into his mouth.
Castiel moaned softly. “Fucking hot,” he murmured. He started rolling his hips, and Dean let the movement help him bob on the older Dean's cock.
Future Dean reached down to grab at the other Dean's hair, guiding him a little, tugging gently. “Yeah, that's—yeah—”
Castiel kept up a steady pace, dragging languidly. He moaned softly, watching the other two, glancing down at his cock now and then, drinking it all in, wanting to save the memory for later.
In the middle, Dean was repeating what he'd done on Castiel to himself, moving his tongue on the underside as he sucked, moving his head a little, and he could tell it was working, even if he was a little distracted by Castiel's movements. The other Dean kept a hand in his hair, but he wasn't moving him much, liking what he was doing. His other hand went to Dean's shoulder to brace himself.
Castiel sped up a little, making Dean moan around the cock in his mouth. “Fuck, Dean, your sounds...” he breathed. Older Dean wasn't half so expressive, not anymore, though Castiel wasn't sure if he was more guarded now or if he just felt less.
The younger Dean was definitely willing to accept a little feedback, and he moaned again, vibrating around his cock. It pulled a soft groan out of the other Dean, and Castiel was loving it. He started thrusting faster, and the younger Dean was into it, too, rocking back to meet him, wanting more of the delicious pressure over his prostate—better from Castiel than it had been from himself, he had to admit. It didn't seem possible. If anyone should understand what he wanted, it should have been himself, but Castiel was pleasing him more.
Older Dean came first, despite his best efforts—younger Dean really did know exactly how to please him, and milked him through it. He pulled out and sat, watching the other two, but he was spent. He didn't have another round in him after that.
Castiel slowed his hips. “Mmm, Dean—on your back,” he said.
Dean looked at him over his shoulder. “You wanna...?” He nodded. “Yeah, Cas, sounds good.”
Castiel pulled out and let Dean change positions, laying on his back, spreading his legs even more than usual for him. It only took a moment before Castiel was pressing back in, thrilled at the smile it put on Dean's face to be filled up again. He didn't hesitate to lean over Dean and kiss him as he started moving his hips again.
Dean wrapped an arm around his neck, moaning against his lips. When they parted, it was only for Dean to whisper encouragement. “Yeah—Cas—fuck, faster—” He moaned and arched up against him. It surprised him to realize that this and fucking Castiel had been the best parts of the night, that the novelty of getting to fuck himself, of getting fucked by someone who knew every single one of his secret weaknesses didn't compare to the connection he was feeling with Castiel—and this wasn't even his Castiel. This was a Castiel that he'd broken, that he'd treated horribly and left wanting—until tonight at least.
Castiel was happy to oblige, driving in harder. He sucked kisses to Dean's neck, not caring about the marks he was leaving behind—and Dean found he didn't care, either.
When Castiel found himself close to the edge, he reached between them to stroke Dean's cock, wanting them to come together. He managed to pull it off. Dean moaned and left the mess of his release on Castiel's hand, and the way his body tightened had Castiel coming deep inside him, burying himself completely. When they were done Castiel laid on Dean's chest wearily, and he knew the night had come to an end. Dean draped an arm around his back. “You don't have to move,” he assured him, and Castiel nodded in acknowledgement. He wanted to stretch it all out as long as he could make it last.
It wasn't long. Older Dean cleared his throat and got off the bed. He went into the little bathroom to wash off, and when he came back he immediately started getting dressed.
“What are you doing?” the younger Dean asked him, a note of surprise in his voice.
“We gotta leave early,” he defended. “Gotta sleep.”
“Sleep here,” past Dean said. “Cas needs us.”
“Everybody needs us,” Dean said. “It never stops.” He didn't stop, either, and once he was dressed he left the cabin without another word.
Castiel sighed heavily, sadly. “We do have to be up early...” he murmured.
Dean shook his head. “We do, but I'm not going anywhere,” he said. He wasn't going to leave Castiel's side for a second longer than he had to. “I'll stay with you.”
Castiel lifted his head, and for a moment his eyes were glassy with tears. He shook his head, though, and simply kissed Dean rather than allow himself to be sad about someone being decent to him. He wasn't used to it anymore—maybe he never had been—but he was determined to drain every drop of happiness he could out of it.
Dean stroked his hair. “C'mon. Let's clean up,” he suggested. “And then get under the blankets?”
Castiel nodded. “Yeah, come on.” He pulled out, making Dean hiss softly. “Sorry.” He stood and offered Dean a hand, which he took, and led the way into the bathroom. After they cleaned up as much as they could with apocalypse plumbing, Dean brought him back to the bed and shook the blankets out, and got in. He patted the space in front of himself, and Castiel laid down with his back to Dean, curling up as the little spoon.
Dean pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I hope you feel better,” he murmured.
Castiel's hardened sarcasm crept back in, as a defense mechanism. “I just got my brains fucked out six ways from Sunday.”
Dean shook his head. “No, I mean—Cas, this—I don't know,” he said. “You deserve better than what you've gotten. And I wanted to—give you that.”
Castiel sighed. “I—I know. I'm sorry, I just—this is—it's been hard and it's made me hard, innuendo not intended.”
Dean snorted a little. “Right. I just—I'm gonna get back to my time, I can't stay here with you, you know. I want to stop all this, everything I do is gonna...”
“Make this never happen,” Castiel whispered. Dean wasn't sure if it was his guess, or a request.
“Yeah, exactly,” Dean said. “I just didn't want to leave here with you thinking that I was always the way your Dean is. That he never cared.”
Castiel closed his eyes, snuggling a little closer. “He's not my Dean. You're more my Dean than he ever could be.”
Dean sighed, and nuzzled at Castiel's neck. “You know what I mean.” He pressed a kiss to Castiel's skin. “Cas...I—”
“Don't say it,” Castiel said. “I can't take it.”
Dean nodded. “Well...I just want you to know.”
“Don't say it to me,” Castiel said. “Get back. Say it to the angel that needs to hear it.”
“Right.” Dean squeezed Castiel gently. “Well, at least I'm here for you tonight.”
“I'll take tonight,” Castiel agreed.
Dean wanted to say so much more, to confess, to make things really right, but he knew, deep in his heart of hearts, that it was too late. There was no fixing this timeline, and what he needed was to get back where he belonged and start over. He also wanted to kick his own ass, both for what he'd fucked up in the world and for how he'd let it affect Castiel. There was no point in talking about it, though, in upsetting Castiel more. Quiet was the sweetest thing. Castiel laced their fingers together and Dean literally felt him fall asleep, felt him relax and trust, and heard his heartbeat slow.
Despite his trepidations about the next day, and getting home, Dean closed his eyes. He let himself sleep, protectively curled around Castiel.
In the morning, Castiel's walls were mostly back up, sarcasm and jokes deflecting anything from being too serious. Dean let it slide. He got dressed and prepped with everyone else, and focused on the mission at hand—even when everything went horribly wrong.
As much as he hated being teleported, Dean was relieved to suddenly be pulled from the timeline, back to his dingy hotel room where he'd been trying to nap. So much for that. At least the place had a working shower, something he wasn't going to take for granted for a long, long time.
Zachariah tried his sales speech for the umpteenth time, but Dean wasn't having it. He didn't have to say yes to Michael to get away from that future. He was certain, he knew it in his gut. He was a Winchester, and playing by the rules, choosing an option handed to him instead of forging his own destiny, was simply out of the question. He wasn't sure how he was going to get away from the angel, but then suddenly he was teleported again.
Castiel. Perfect timing in more ways than one—Castiel was exactly the person Dean wanted to see. “That's pretty nice timing, Cas,” he said, grinning.
“We had an appointment,” Castiel reminded him. His smile was warm and genuine, and Dean felt his heart melt in response. Castiel was glowing more than the nearby streetlight, just pleased to see Dean, and Dean could finally see it for what it was.
Dean swallowed thickly and reached out to put a hand on Castiel's shoulder. “Don't ever change,” he said, slowly.
Castiel looked even more pleased to hear that, and was about to ask Dean something else, but Dean pulled him a little closer, took half a step closer himself, and slipped his arms around Castiel's shoulders. It was that easy, just that tiny effort, and they were hugging. Castiel took a few seconds to realize what was going on, but he slipped his arms around Dean's waist and hugged back. “What is this for?” he asked Dean, confused but not unhappy.
“I just saw what happens when I only focus on the mission and forget about the people I care about,” Dean said. “Zachariah showed me the future—well, a future,” he explained, pulling away from Castiel, but keeping the anchoring hand on his shoulder. “It ain't pretty and I'm not gonna let it happen.”
Castiel winced just a little. “The apocalypse,” he said, understanding immediately.
Dean nodded. “Yeah. He was trying to convince me to say yes to Michael, said he wanted to teach me a lesson, but...if that future or vision or dream or whatever was supposed to make me believe I should say yes, he got it all wrong. And I gotta call Sam, I need to get him back before he becomes Lucifer's meatsuit. But—but there's one other thing, real quick, first...”
Castiel tilted his head, unsure what could possibly be as important as that.
Dean moved his hand from Castiel's shoulder to cup his cheek, and leaned in to kiss him.
Castiel froze again, just for a second, but then he slid an arm around Dean's neck, pressing against him, hugging him close again as he kissed back.
Dean lingered for a moment, before breaking the kiss to press his forehead to Castiel's. “The world's ending,” he said, slowly. “Maybe. Not if we can stop it. But—whatever happens, I want you next to me.”
“Dean?” Castiel asked, breathlessly.
Dean took a second to build up his courage. “Not gonna deny it anymore,” he said. “I love you, Cas. Don't care if it's wrong or right or whatever. Feels right, though.”
Castiel nodded slowly. “I—you must already know I love you, too,” he said. “Heaven won't be happy, you know they think I'm too close to you already.”
Dean shrugged. “Let 'em try and take you from me,” he said. “You have a place with me and Sam and I'll fight them to the death. And we'll get just exactly as close as we wanna be.”
Castiel shivered in his arms. “Yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “I want that.”
“All right then,” Dean said. “Don't expect me to be real good at...feelings and stuff. But I'll try. And we'll fight our way out and hopefully when it's all over we're both still standing.” He peeled away and took Castiel's hand. “And hell, I don't know, maybe we'll even live happily ever after.” He grinned at Castiel affectionately.
Castiel smiled adoringly. “I think we can win,” he said. “And I'll fight with you even if we don't.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah. I think we've got a shot.” It felt, somehow, like the tide had turned, even with the dire warning he'd just been given. He smiled and took his phone out of his pocket. “Not to ruin the moment, but I gotta make things right with Sam, too, I can't let him—we gotta go after him.”
Castiel nodded. “Of course. I understand.” He squeezed Dean's hand reassuringly. Sometimes there were just bigger things to worry about, but he was happy. They were together and the line of communication was open. No matter how much Dean said he was bad at it, Castiel felt like they would be able to work through things.
Dean dialed Sam and put the phone up to his ear.
And with that, the other timeline withered out of existence.
