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The motel room was empty, beds perfectly made, everything tidy and in place. Had it not been for the porn on the television, Dean might've noticed that all of his luggage was nowhere to be found. Or that Sam was nowhere to be found. Or that he had fallen asleep not twenty minutes ago and that this was all a mere illusion, a dream.
The TV switched off. Dean came out of his trance and attempted to turn it back on. No response came from the machine. He looked around, finally noticed that things weren't right. Out of instinct, he reached for his pistol but found none. He called out for Sam but got no reply. He ran to the door, grasping the knob, only to find that it was locked and he was trapped. Dean suddenly feared the worst, thinking maybe something kidnapped his brother while he was asleep and somehow locked him in here so that he had no chance of going after it. But that's ridiculous, he thought. Sam surely would've put up some kind of fight and if that didn't help, Dean would've definitely woken up due to all of the ruckus.
Unless they were drugged.
"Son of a bitch!" he cursed out loud, kicking the door.
"Dean."
Dean turned in response to hearing his name, "Cas?" he was thankful to see his friend, especially at a time like this. "Look someone or something broke in and got Sam. I'm locked in and-"
"I know, Dean." Cas informed him.
"You know? What do you mean y--, Cas did you do this?"
"You can calm down," Cas assured him. "This is merely a dream."
"A dream?" Dean seemed to realize that it made sense and everything suddenly came back to him. Castiel eyed him with that inquiring blue gaze of his, lips thinned out.
"You made this?" Dean asked, stepping closer to the angel.
Castiel stifled a sigh, tucked his hands into his coat pockets. "It was the only way to have a word with you alone."
Dean squinted in confusion. "A word with me? Alone? What's so important that you had to create a generic dream motel room with porn just to tell me?"
"If I remember correctly, you enjoy watching women with large bosoms fornicate on television. I thought you would enjoy it."
Dean would've laughed had he thought it was a joke but this was Cas he was dealing with. His serious, almost brooding tone killed any trace of humor.
"Cas," Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What the hell is going on?"
Castiel walked around the room, analyzing, staring at things Dean couldn't see. A look of distance painted upon his vessel's face.
"Cas!" Dean yelled.
The angel slowly lowered his head. Then turned his gaze on Dean. The object of his obsession as of lately. The object of his questionable affection.
"Tell me, Dean...the pornography, the one night stands with the women...do they really fufill you?" Castiel never broke eye contact with Dean as he spoke, voice unwavering.
The hunter squinted in confusion. "W-What?"
"I may not be familiar with many human customs, but I am not naive. I am aware there is a difference between emotional gratification...and physical gratification."
Castiel stepped closer to Dean, still maintaining his gaze. The latter stepped back slightly, wary of what the angel was getting at.
"Cas...what are you talking about?"
Cas stopped suddenly. Looked at something beyond Dean that wasn't there. Suddenly he became aware that it was dangerous for him to be inside of Dean's head for this long. He would have to relinquish his grasp on the hunter's conscience soon. But not yet. He couldn't. Not now.
"These feelings...my vessel...no....me....no..." Cas knew he couldn't blame these emotions on his vessel. Jimmy was long gone. This body was nothing but a shell. He was the conscience. Castiel was. Not Jimmy. Castiel was the one who felt this. Castiel was the one who loved Dean Winchester.
"Cas would you stop screwin' around and just spit it out!" Dean demanded.
Castiel looked right into those green eyes as he stepped closer. The wariness, the confusion, the tension on Dean's face all mixed together was thick. The angel was close, closer than he had ever been to Dean. His leaned into his neck, inhaled the scent of musk and deodorant of the mortal, sighed a quiet sigh of ecstasy. A sensation he'd never experienced in this form before.
Dean shoved Castiel back, a look of utter perplexion and partial disgust on his face.
"Cas, what the hell are you doing?" Dean spat. "Get out of my head Cas. End this. Now!"
"Dean, please I just need..." Castiel trailed off as he was unable to maintain control. All of the restraint that he built, gone. He knew that his vessel was doing this now. It screamed for a release that he'd never experienced before. All Cas knew was that he was willing to get it at whatever cost. He approached Dean once again. Naturally, the Winchester struggled, fought like hell to escape but realized Cas restrained him. This may have been Dean's head, but this dream was created by Castiel. He controlled everything, including Dean. He fought and spat and cursed as the angel buried his face in his neck, once again inhaling Dean's scent. Cas hungrily licked at Dean's neck, making circles with his tongue before biting at the skin. Dean still fought, still cursed Cas' name. It was an endless stream of "fuck you" and "I'm gonna kill you" and "get the fuck off of me" and "damnit Cas", "get out of my head", "stop", "please", "Cas", "Cas". He had resorted to repeating Castiel's name over and over which only coerced the angel more. He came up from Dean's neck, admiring the bite marks before moving on to his lips. Castiel noticed the look in his eyes. There wasn't much there anymore. Dean had just stopped fighting. And whether it was because he saw how futile it was or because he actually wanted it wouldn't have stopped him either way.
He slammed his lips into Dean's, tracing his tongue over them, an attempt to coax Dean to open up and allow him entrance. Dean complied and Castiel became frenzied at how the human tasted. The angel's hands began to roam, his left hand exploring Dean's body beneath his shirt and his right hand discovering a region upon his own vessel that Castiel would have otherwise never ventured.
Time was running thin. But Cas found it hard to care. The worse that could happen is that he and Dean would be stuck in this place forever. Would that really be such a bad thing?
Cas moved them to the bed in an instant using his powers, finding himself on top of Dean. Castiel grasped tufts of Dean's hair, desperately trying to taste every inch of the man's mouth. He allowed Dean a little more control over his own body and halfway expected him to start fighting back again. But he didn't. Cas discovered the sheer ecstasy of having their manhoods grinding against each other. And with each thrust, the angel was shocked to feel Dean return each and every one. He felt his hands on his back, pressing him harder and closer to his body. Castiel moaned into the still ongoing kiss, which had grown sloppy and sex-fueled.
Time.
The damn time.
Castiel rolled onto his side beside Dean, allowing his body, his vessel, to tell him what to do. He buried his head in Dean's neck, biting him animalistically, teeth threatening to rip the skin off. The pain elicited moans and curses from the Winchester's mouth. Cas' hand had undone Dean's jeans, pushed them down enough so that his hands were on Dean's flesh, his grip tight. Hearing Dean moan so close to his ear, feeling his breath, it threatened to send the angel over the edge. He grinded his still clothed erection in Dean's side, moaning and breathing heavily as his hand vigorously stroked Dean. He ceased sucking on his neck just to focus on finishing the job. The angel swiftly repositioned himself between the man's legs, taking all of Dean into his mouth, fingers digging into his thighs. Castiel wasn't himself anymore. He was so far gone but he didn't care one bit. Something inside wouldn't let him stop and he would rather be damned to hell than stop now.
Time was running out.
He could feel himself fading.
Dean whimpered Castiel's name, a pitiful sound that he never would have expected to hear from someone like Dean Winchester. He went faster, rapidly, desperately wanting to feel Dean hit the edge and fly right over it. He could tell that he had been trying to hide his pleasure all this time but all of that was gone. Now Dean moaned. Screamed. Cursed. In ways that both slightly alarmed Cas and made him come back up for air, continuing to viciously stroke Dean's manhood, watching the contortions in his face and the spasms that hit his body. He felt him tense up, alerting Cas of him being close. The angel pleasured him faster. Leaned forward to whisper encouragement in a voice that was no longer Castiel's. It was deeper, breathy, brought on by his need to give Dean pleasure and see him reach his peak. "Yes...yes Dean. Release it for me. Almost there. Come on. Let it out for me."
Teeth clenched. Bitten lips. Tense muscles. Balled fists. Mouth agape to let out sounds of his climax. Dean hit the edge so hard that reality returned like a head-on collision. He shot up in his motel bed, drenched in sweat, panting like he'd just ran for hours non-stop. His heart raced.
The shower was running. Dean looked over and saw an empty bed, sheets strewn all over it. Sam was in the shower. Dean secretly prayed that he hadn't moaned or worse while he was asleep. And if he did he hoped that his brother hadn't heard it at least.
He felt his release all over the inside of his boxers, wet and sticky. He came in his dream and in reality. Dean buried his head in his hands, unsure of what to think or how to feel. All he could think about was Castiel.