The water falls over him like a benediction, dirt and blood from Purgatory sliding off, and when Castiel first appears in front of him he thinks it’s a dream. They’ve kissed, but a wild dimension of monsters seemed like the wrong place to consummate the love that they’ve unexpectedly found in each other; here, though, safe on earth and home and together, they come together like hands in prayer, water washing away the trauma and leaving them raw and bared and desperately needing each other.
Dean can’t get enough of Castiel’s lips, of the warm, human flush of his body; he presses Cas against the wall and whispers “please” and “turn around” and “can I?” and each yes he gets in return is a blessing. He presses into Castiel carefully at first, afraid to break him apart, so fragile are they from finally having this safe haven to connect with each other — but Castiel’s noise of delight is immediate, and he rolls his hips up and back against the thrust of Dean into him, delirious, begging for more and reaching back to run his hands through Dean’s wet and shampoo-slick hair. Dean stifles his cries in Castiel’s neck, reaches around him and fucks Castiel’s cock roughly in his fist; they’re coming too soon, heat overwhelming them and the shower’s steam making each breath that much more labored, and Dean clings tight to Castiel long after it’s over, unwilling to let the joining end, not when it’s been this long in finding.