Cursed Intentions

Chapter 3

About an hour later, the brothers walk into the motel room. Dean walks through the door, first chuckling at something. Looking up, he sees Castiel seated at the table and pauses quickly. He pales as his eyes narrow as he studies him inhaling sharply. "Cas?" He questions, furrowing his brow.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel says, a pleasant smile on his face like all the other times he's greeted Dean.

"What are you doing here?" He snaps at the angel, the words coming out more sharply then he intends them to be. He sighs as his hand absentmindedly reaches up, rubbing over the bruise on his neck. Stepping further into the room, he removes his jacket tossing it on his bed.

Castiel stands up, walking over to Dean. "Are you okay? You seem to be stressed." Noticing the bruise, Castiel tips his head to the side. "Dean, you seem to be hurt, what's happened?" The curiosity in Castiel's voice sounds genuine enough, as he looks at the man standing in front of him.

Dean's eyes narrow as he studies the face staring back at him, confusion washing over his own before quickly turning to frustration and anger. Taking a few quick strides, he nearly closes the space between him and Castiel. He glares at him while taking in some air. "You didn't answer the question," he pauses briefly. "What are you doing here, Cas?" Dean's voice a low growl before he licks his lips, never breaking eye contact.

"I invited him here, Dean. What the hell's your problem?" Sam says as he looks to Dean, then back to Castiel. "I've never seen you this hostile to Cas in a long time. I think we need some help since it's obvious that you're not in your right mind." Sam scolds Dean. "Thanks for coming out here, Cas."

Castiel stares into Dean's green eyes, savoring the closeness between the two of them. Even with Dean as angry as he is, the warmth of his body calls to Castiel's passion, and he has some difficulty hiding it. Luckily, the younger Winchester is standing behind him. Castiel locks down his emotions after a moment. The glint in his eye returns to the dull, bored look that he likes to wear. "Anything for you," Castiel says, the message all for Dean, though.

Dean glances up, glaring at Sam over Castiel's shoulder. "Fuck you, Sam. For the hundredth time. I'm fine," he pauses. "I told you specifically, not to call him," Dean glares back at Castiel as he tries to steady his breathing. "Really? That's how you wanna play this?" His voice a low whisper as he can feel his hands curl into fists at his side, biting his bottom lip firmly.

Castiel tips his head to the side, and his brow knots together. "Dean, what are you talking about?" He licks his lips, holding out. He reaches out to Dean's neck. "Is this causing you to act like this? Where did this come from?" Castiel narrows his eyes at the mark, then lets his eyes wander to meet Dean's again.

Dean's body stiffens slightly as Castiel's hand reaches towards the mark on his neck. Grabbing Castiel's wrist firmly, he glares back into the angel's blue eyes. He shakes his head, a smirk playing on the edges of his lips. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," he growls, letting go of Castiel's wrist before walking over towards the bed.

"But Dean, I don't. I've been asking you to tell me. I don't understand the anger you have right now. Sam says you've been acting strange all morning." Castiel follows Dean closer to the bed, effectively trapping Dean against the nightstand and the two beds. "Please, Dean... talk to me. I might be able to help," Castiel begs.

Sam walks over to the book covered table, sitting down and opening his laptop. He eyes the two men in the other room and attempts to give them the illusion of privacy. He pops in his headphones, turning the volume up on the computer while he looks up more information about the vampire nest.

Dean looks at Sam noticing his headphones in his ears. His gaze hardens once again as he looks back to Castiel. "Cut the shit, Cas," he sighs, sitting down on the bed before rubbing his face with his hands. "There's nothing to talk about, is there?" He smirks, looking at Castiel, silently challenging him.

"There's only something to talk about if you have something to talk about. I guess you don't want to talk about the wound on your neck, do you?" Castiel shoots back. The angel stands in front of Dean and looks down at him, trying not to remember before, when Dean was naked under him. "I think it's kind of Sam to give you the privacy you need to talk to me about what's bothering you." Castiel smiles, his eyes shimmering for a moment.

Dean stands up suddenly, glaring at Castiel, staring him down for a moment. Dean shakes his head as he bites his lip, still smirking and clears his throat. "Fuck you," he says before turning, bumping shoulders with Castiel. Snatching his coat and keys up from the bed, Dean walks toward the door to the motel room, slamming it behind him.

Castiel looks at the door and whispers, "Challenge accepted," in the very lowest tone, as he sees Sam quickly stand and rush the door.

"Cas, what the hell happened?" Sam asks, his voice laced with anxiety and concern. He opens the door, running out after his brother, hoping to catch him at the car before he can leave.

Castiel sits where Dean was sitting, the same spot from earlier ago. He manages to keep his urges inside, especially with Sam, so near. He gingerly touches his shoulder, the place where Dean brushed past him. "Why are you so angry with me, Dean? Why won't you open up and talk to me about what you're feeling or experiencing." Castiel ponders, looking at the open door, waiting to see if anyone will come back.

Dean grips the steering wheel of the Impala hard as he pulls out of the small parking lot of the motel. He blinks, seeing Sam standing outside the door in the rearview mirror. Turning onto the road, he can feel his anger and frustration growing. Castiel had to be fucking with him, right? He didn't imagine their interactions, did he? Granted, he sure as hell didn't want to talk about them in front of Sam, but it still didn't calm his frustration. Turning down some backroads, he continues to feel his frustration growing, bubbling. Dean sighs, looking down at the small clock, becoming aware he's been driving around for close to twenty minutes now. Studying the area, he pulls over to a small clearing on the side of the road, quickly throwing the car in park. Undoing his seatbelt, Dean lays across the front seat of the vehicle, using his jacket as a pillow, closing his eyes tightly. He listens to the music playing on the radio, recognizing Van Halen's - Panama coming through the speakers.

Dean leans up, cranking up the volume before laying back down on the seat. Dean covers his face with his hands as the music assaults his ears. His mind wanders to images of Castiel standing above him, lust-filled blue eyes burning into him. He growls inwards as he feels his cock hardening against the denim of his jeans. Sitting up quickly, he sees no one along the long stretch of the backroad. He curses through his teeth as he aggressively undoes his belt, followed by undoing his jeans. He arches his back as he inches them down his hips. His eyes tightly closed, as he takes his hard cock into his hands as thoughts of Castiel's hand there come flooding back to him. He begins pumping himself as the beat of the song and running engine softly vibrate the car. He swallows hard as he begins increasing his speed as his free hand claws at the soft leather underneath him. "Cas..." Dean growls as the name slips over his lips involuntarily.

"Ah, I reach down between my legs.

Ease the seat back..."