The Mark on Us ( A Destiel Fanfic)

The Ultimate Price

He crosses his arms and shifts his eyebrows up.

"So what did you want Cas? Because I came here to take a shower like normal humans do so if you want to talk, talk now. Otherwise I'll just strip in front of you and get wet."

Cas takes a cautious step forward and looks him in the eyes.

"I bet you would like that, would you Dean? Getting undressed and dripping liquids from body parts that you would die for me to lick up. You would love for me to put my mouth on a certain body part, wouldn't you? Put it on there until you hit that sweet and delicate spot and you scream my name at the top of your lungs. I can see it in the way you look at me. You pratically begging for me to do it, aren't you?" He tilts his head and let his eyes wander downwards, all the while knowing how Deans face has altered from smug to a half-smile.

"Uh..me? No. I don't enjoy doing that sort of thing Cas."

He edges slightly closer and Cas palms at his crotch through his boxers, never once breaking eye contact with him. He then places soft butterfly kisses on his neck, working his way up to his jawline. 

"Are you positive about that Dean?"

He arches his neck up, releasing an unintentional moan that echoed throughout the tiled room. He gripped the trenchcoat in his hands, melting his body against his, letting Castiels hands wander all over him. Soft angelic lips ended up meeting his and greedily drinks in every square inch of him. Taking his waist, he shoves Cas against the wall and sheds him of his coat and his shirt underneath it so only his bare chest is shown. Dean presses his body against his, putting his hands on either side of his face so he could make sure he wasn't going anyone. Not like the thought ever appeared to cross the angels mind, by the looks of his hands retrieving a little something from Deans underwear and rubbing it slowly. He lets out a small gasp as a bit of pre-cum coats Cas's fingers and Dean retracts himself from his touch, moving down towards his belt buckle. He puts his hand on the angels waist and he easily takes off his pants, sliding without a problem to the floor. Dean was about to busy himself with another dirty task but a hand gripped him tightly on his arm causing him to be yanked back up. He looked at him with puzzlement settling in his expression. Yet understanding coursed through him when his fingers moved over the Mark with an expressionless face. Dean couldn't decide if it was fear. Confusion. Anger of even all three of those emotions. Nevertheless, he searched his eyes for any explanation as to why he hadn't told anyone about how his condition was getting worse. Or if he cared about himself in the slightest. And more and more yelling rising from Castiels throat, being of more concern than anything else. He didn't bother answering his endless slew of questions and it didn't appear that Castiel was waiting for any reponse. He just gathered his clothes and stormed off, slamming the door as if to make a point at how frustrating Dean was making him. And in every way possible, he was right. Making the people he love cry or become angry at him seems to be a daily occurence that arises from being around him. So when he came out of the shower and got on a new set of clothing, he grabs a jacket to head out to meet the person that may change his life for the better. Or make him fall harder.

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 He stops at the destination that he had scribbled on a piece of scrap paper from the man that described it. He does a double take and had to rub his eyes several times to make sure he was seeing things right but, sure enough, it was still the same. It was the barn he had killed Cain in. All the doubts he had began to rise up again and he stormed in angrily grabbing at his knife he had brought with him. Dean stopped suddenly in his path when he noticed that nobody was residing here. Of course the one strand of hope that he had was completely gone and was there almost to taunt him. Saying that he'll never truly be himself again and this was indeed a trap.