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When Castiel opens his door early Sunday morning he does not expect his boyfriend to be standing there looking for all the world as though he's been on a crime spree all night. That is to say, guilty and like he hasn't slept a wink.
"I haven't been paying attention to you."
Cas returns his stare and matter of factly responds, "No, you haven't."
"I've been focused on the Dawson account and I've been working longer hours and forgetting to return your calls and I'm sorry."
Cas opens the door wider to let him in.
Truth be told, Castiel had been worried they were toeing the line of being over. He'd thought that he'd been foolish to expect more from Dean and that the businessman was done with their little escapades. That he would write it off as part of some New Age phase he’d been going through and would just continue to forget to return Castiel's calls until Cas stopped calling and weeks became months and months became years, and Cas went back to hosting orgies every weekend like he had in his younger days, and Dean found himself on a date with a woman named Linda-From-Marketing.
Somewhere in his consciousness he knew how foolish that was but he couldn't bring himself to stop worrying.
"I finished the case at two this morning but I couldn't sleep because all I could think of was how I'd been ignoring you. And-and how much I missed you."
Cas hesitates but reaches up to cup his face. Dean raises his eyes from where they've darted to the floor and Cas is struck by the sincerity in them. It elicits from him a soft smile that brings out his crow’s feet.
He gives Dean a chaste kiss, "I can forgive you." Another kiss. "But I don't want this to happen to me - to us, every time a big account comes in."
Well damn if that doesn't drive the butterflies in Dean's chest crazy. He shakes his head, "No way. It's torture, I've learned my lesson."
Dean leans in for another kiss but when he tries to make it more, Cas pulls back, "You need rest."
"We haven't done anything in so long," Dean practically whines and Cas feels the fingers on his hips tighten.
"Rest first, then I'll have my wicked way with you."
Cas leads Dean to his bedroom and helps him undress. Before Dean can even ask him to stay, Cas is shucking off his shirt and sweats and climbing under the covers with him. They curl together naturally; arms fitting over hips and into the concaves of lower backs with practiced ease.
Cas loves sleep – a lot – but even he has his limits. After a few hours, he wakes up, knowing that with a full night of rest under his belt he won’t be able to get back to sleep. He presses a light kiss to Dean’s forehead and extricates himself, carefully re-tucking the blankets so his absence won’t be easily noticed.
He pulls his sweat pants back on and makes his way to what really should be the master bedroom. Castiel decided that the floor-to-ceiling windows made a picture too pretty to be the background for sleep. Especially when he was not in favor of direct sunlight before at least 10am on days off, preferably 11.
But it is exactly what he likes to look at when he’s doing yoga. The mid-morning light isn’t something he minds when he’s well rested and voluntarily awake.
He’s gotten through one routine and is stretching to cool down for the next one before he notices Dean in the doorway.
"Care to join me or are you just here for the view?"
Dean smiles, "Both." He's left his usual yoga clothes at home but he's fine in his boxers.
Crossing the room, he is struck by how comfortable he is, being so open with Cas. Despite some of the depraved things they've gotten up to, Dean is used to compartmentalizing bedroom hijinks separately from this level of intimacy.
He's startled that he doesn't feel a need to compartmentalize nudity (well partial nudity) and exercise/meditative activities.
"We should try naked yoga together," Dean suggests with a smile as he pulls out one of Cas's spare yoga mats.
"Actually I did want to try something new."
"Cas I was kidding," Dean says with wider eyes.
"I know that," he walks over to and pulls closed the thick curtains he covers the windows with when he meditates. He usually can't hear the street but the curtains help block possible distracting, outside stimuli. A few tugs of the cord and the room is submerged in darkness.
He goes to a drawer to get everything and hands a lighter to Dean who goes around lighting the candles. This part isn’t unusual.
But Cas returns to the drawer and pulls out a longer-than-normal joint. They typically wait until they’re done with their exercise before they smoke. It’s a nice addition to the relaxed cuddling they typically take part in after their cool downs.
He takes the lighter from Dean then turns to put the joint on the bronze incense plate he owns. He walks to the center of the room and sets the plat on the floor then adjusts the two mats so they’re lined up and touching to form one big square. Cas sits on one of the mats and pats the other to indicate that Dean should sit. Dean recognizes that they’re going to meditate – the curtains, the candles, the bronze plate (void as it is of incense). As he crosses the room, Cas lights the joint, and out of habit takes a puff.
Dean smirks, “Isn’t that cheating?” Their knees touch as Dean sits cross-legged, mirroring Cas.
Cas just takes another drag and kisses Dean who automatically opens his mouth to take the smoke. He’s cupping the back of Dean’s neck to keep him close and he says, still against Dean's lips, "You're always more relaxed when you've smoked."
"You've conditioned me" Dean mumbles - an absent thought prompted by their actions. Cas lifts the cigarette to his own lips and Dean leans forward to take another mouthful from him. Cas give it willingly and sets the cigarette back on the plate distractedly. His free hands reach up to cradle Dean’s face. His thumb runs once over Dean’s mouth and it prompts Dean to continue his rambling train of thought, "Every time I see you smoking I want to have some." He bites his lower lip, "I don't even like the way weed tastes. But watching you makes me hungry to have some. Just to remember what it feels like to have you breathe it into me."
Cas shudders and leans his forehead against Dean’s.
When Cas opens his eyes, they flick back and forth between Dean’s to keep focus at the close proximity. “Tantrics believe that kundalini is our life-strength.”
Dean has to mentally shake himself to recall one of their first discussions where they’d covered different types of yoga. Tantra was the one focused on achieving access to other dimensions. He remembers Cas going on about how Western culture had horribly misinterpreted its purposes, and the little crease that had lodged itself in the center of Cas’s forehead because of it.
“The kundalini must be directed along the six chakras up to the third eye in the head.”
The third eye was what was supposed to be able to see beyond our dimension. Aligning the chakras has proved just as difficult as Dean expected it to be. They’ve tried this a handful of times before and were actually successful the last two.
“Waking the life-strength requires channeling breathing along the sushumna. It is the central stream of energy that connects the chakras.” He draws a line up his own torso and reaches to do the same on Dean. “The sushumna’s base is in the pubic triangle. Its access point is located in the perineum.”
Cas leans back and illustrates the triangle on himself through his sweats before tentatively leaning forward and tracing the same triangle on Dean through his boxers. There’s nothing sexual in the touch and Dean watches Cas in fascination.
“The path extends up to the root of the third eye at the top of the seventh chakra.”
Dean feels like he might be losing his train of thought but he tries to imagine the energy flow body chart Cas had shown him.
“Do you remember the illustration I showed you?” Dean smiles at the shared line of thought. “Those are the paths you’ll be searching and moving through.” He lifts his hand but drops it almost as suddenly before speaking carefully, “It-it will be easier to sense if I show you.”
Dean nods and Cas reaches forward again. He names and touches the access points of each chakra.
“Mooladhara”; the one he already showed him. “Swadhisthana”; the tip of his tailbone. “Manipura”; a dip between the middle lumbar vertebrae. “Anahata”; the point on his back that begins the gentle upper curve of his spine. “Vishuddhi”; an ember at the base of his neck. “Anja”; a finger to either side of his head – Dean can picture the point in the center of his skull. “Sahasrara”; the top of his head where an open feeling is left when Cas lifts his finger.
Cas sits back, “Show me.” The lull of his voice is enchanting but Dean manages to obey. Marking them on another body reinforces his perception of their location. It’s nice to feel the sense of connection he gets from touching Cas in reflective movements. Cas’s nods of approval are the frosting on the cake.
Dean sits back and Cas rolls his shoulders. He redirects the conversation to matters of the informative.
“We’re using outside influences,” Cas indicates their incense substitute, “because it is tantric principle that whatever can bring us down can also uplift us.”
Dean nods encouragingly so that Cas keeps going.
“Perhaps most importantly, it is about building our energies to reach the very source of the uppermost dimension. We focus all of our most base energies and instincts – sexual, emotional, intellectual, survival – to fuel our journey and build towards reaching the uppermost dimension.”
Okay, Dean is refocusing thoughts. He can do this.
“We are using our energies to make things happen.”
That makes sense.
Well… put so simply, it is at least something he can grasp. A goal to concentrate his efforts on.
Cas leans forward the few inches it takes to press a chaste kiss to Dean’s mouth. It would appear that the foreword is over and they’re about to start. Cas poses their hands so that they rest in mirror images atop their knees: palm to palm, Dean’s left atop Cas’s right and vice versa.
They make eye contact once more then take a deep breath together and close their eyes.
Dean’s gotten good at meditating. Really good. And he’s worked hard at getting there. Cas has given him incredible training. Even when he isn’t with Cas he meditates by himself: in the mornings before he eats breakfast, before bed, after dinner, during his entire lunch break at work. At this point he’s managed to rouse himself from meditation precisely an hour after he starts. Without the use of an alarm.
Cas had been shocked at the progress he’d made with his breathing until Dean revealed how often he’d been practicing. To be perfectly honest, Dean enjoys his individual study much less than his sessions with Cas. And whatever it is about interacting with Cas adds a more intense element and focus to his meditations.
So Dean’s good. But it doesn’t stop him from wondering if he’s this good. If he’s good enough to get to whatever it is Cas is trying to achieve. He gets the feeling that Cas is being intentionally vague so that Dean doesn’t have a goal in mind.
It’s unusual for them.
And it’s working. Dean is more concentrated on the “what” of this session than the “how” or the “why.”
He feels limber and almost a little numb in the parts of his body that aren’t touching Cas. It would almost be a rush if it weren’t so relaxing.
Physically they’re far closer than they normally would be to meditate. There’s always been a good one or two foot buffer space between their mats, something that carried over from the room required for body space during yoga.
He slowly becomes aware of Cas’s pulse as it beats under his fingertips. All he can hear is Cas’s deep breathing.
The warmth of Cas’s hands seeps into him and he loses focus on where he actually is because … because it doesn’t matter.
He resists the urge to interlace their fingers and feels his heartbeat and respiration slowly but surely become the same as Castiel’s.
The build is tedious. It’s all breath and blood. He feels the draw of heat seep from his extremities distantly. His real devotion is to the mounting full-body sensation of opening each chakra. With each one that opens he feels more of the energy channel fill until it is all that there is. It rises to Anja. And then the third eye opens.
Cas has done this once before – with his yoga guru – but it was wholly different. The path he takes to find himself, and then to feel Dean is the same, but the sensations they exchange are something else entirely.
It’s like he can feel the wave Castiel is vibrating on. Now if only they could sync up.
Dean is so warm and bright in front of him. Cas can taste the heat.
He doesn’t know what changes – if it’s his breathing or Cas’s; if the intoxication is fully hitting his system; maybe just thinking about the different vibrations did it – but suddenly he and Cas are riding the same wave.
The rapture builds – a spark at the first touch and something all-consuming as he digs into the wall of energy, of Dean, so near to him.
Dean didn’t know there was a way to feel so close to someone. He bleeds into Castiel as he also soaks him up.
It’s all Castiel can think. He’s too far gone for childhood memories to fully surface but not for the phantom taste of sacramental wine to fill his mouth.
He feels like he’s been dissolved.
Cas is his glass of water and Dean is made from salt and sugar. This meditation was all that was needed to stir them together. But the feeling keeps growing. A glass could not hold them. Salt and sugar are too defined. He has been compressed into powder, blown to the winds and made solute in an ocean that is energy contained within the impossible man before him.
Total bliss.
His head is warm and the rest of his body is cold. All his energy is focused on the path through the chakras. When he takes the next breath all he feels is white-hot in a long line down his torso from the top of his head – beyond the top of his head, down to his groin.
This is ecstasy.
Gasping, Dean comes back to himself. When the buzzing and static light are no longer haunting the space behind his eyes, Dean blinks and finds Cas no better off. His chest is heaving and his eyelids are at half-mast while his jaw hangs slack.
They sit in virtual silence, waiting for their bodies to recalibrate.
They didn’t do it right, that Dean is sure of. There was no release and no gradual coming down of the energy he’d felt rise up through him. It was a plummeting sensation, as if he’d been doused in scalding hot water and the both of them yanked away from one another. Like the blood had rushed outward from its concentrated path along his chakras far too suddenly.
But it was perfection nonetheless.
The cigarette has long since burned out. They've been at this for hours it would seem – Dean can hardly smell any smoke residue.
They've come down from the chemical high but Dean's body is still positively thrumming and his mind is reeling.
He is grounded by Castiel alone, who wears a look of awe that Dean thinks must be a reflection of his own.
Dean launches himself forward and throws himself wholly on Cas. They just sit there, all Dean's body weight essentially resting on the other man, his arms slung over Cas's shoulders, and Cas clinging to him for dear life.
He can't get close enough. He inhales deeply, heartstrings tugging at the shared sentiment as Cas murmurs, "More," and hauls him into his lap. "Closer," Cas whispers as he wraps Dean's legs around his back, burying his face in the crook of Dean's neck.
God knows how long they stay like that, absorbed in each other, clinging to the world rocking experience they've just had.
In no small feat, they almost manage to keep full body contact as they stand. Dean stays koalaed around Cas as he carries them back to the bedroom.
He sets Dean down and they help each other undress completely before climbing under the covers for the second time that day.
In this instance, Cas turns to face outward and reaches to pull Dean's arm over his waist. Dean doesn't seem to mind at all, and presses his nose to the back of Cas's neck.
Cas manages to regulate his breathing and lies in contentment, soaking in how wonderful this all feels for the next few minutes as he waits to drift off.
In, two, three, four; Out, two, three, four; In, two, three-
"I love you."
The words are whispered so quiet and guarded that they barely register in Cas's ears. He feels them pressed into the back of his neck as Dean's lips move around the syllables. A secret he wasn’t supposed to be privy to.
"I love you too." Cas whispers just loud enough to be sure he’s heard.
And he knows Dean hears because the arm around his waist tenses and after a moment Dean whispers, louder, more intentional this time, "You're supposed to be asleep."
Cas moves his hand to cover Dean's in reassurance and Dean continues, "I didn't want to spoil anything."
Cas laces his fingers with Dean's and pulls their hands up, pressing the knuckles to his mouth. "I love you too, Dean." He kisses Dean's palm. "You've ruined nothing; far from it." He gives his hand a squeeze and tucks his arm tighter against his chest.
Dean lets out a shaky breath and somehow manages to press himself closer to Cas.
"G'night Cas."
"Goodnight Dean."