To Linger Longer
Title: To Linger Longer
Author: fight_thedead
Rating: NC-17
Summary: If Dean and Cas weren't ready to figure out what this thing was between them, it was well and good, but Sam always made it a point to skip the details.
Pairing(s): Top!Castiel/Bottom!Dean
Kinks: Voyeurism
A/N: For the spnkink-meme - Prompt: would love a fic where Dean and Cas have reverential, super loving sex - it doesn't have to be tender or anything just super intense - and Sam is just watching them. Up to author if Sam gets himself off to it or not.
***Sam doesn’t participate, or get involved sexually in any way.
---
When Sam finds Dean, Castiel is with him. It's not an entirely uncommon situation, but when Dean complained about not getting his four hours the night before and went upstairs to play some much needed catch up, Castiel was definitely not around.
The room is dim, the light flickering every so often though Sam can't tell if it's due to the bulb needing to be changed or if it's just reacting to the angel's presence. His hand is on the doorknob when Castiel steps too close into Dean's space. Sam expects a sigh and an overused retort, but Dean reaches his hand up until it's brushing against stubble.
"You are tired," Cas says, as he leans into the touch.
Dean's thumb travels up until it's gliding along the angel's bottom lip. "Sam always says I need to find more time to exercise. Guess I found some."
Dean takes a half step forward, closing the gap between them. They're standing chest to chest before Dean brings his lips to Castiel's and wow, Sam really wasn't expecting to learn something new about his brother tonight.
They've been living in each other's back pockets long enough to be familiar with being woken up by moans or walking into a hotel room earlier than expected. It came with the territory and never prevented them from looking each other in the eyes over breakfast the next morning. This though, well it's not quite walking in on your brother with the blonde from the bar. It's catching your brother with an angel of the Lord, and though Castiel has removed himself from the divine, Sam’s not particularly sure he's the ideal candidate to be ravished.
It’s not a terribly shocking revelation. The dots were already forming when Uriel still thought he could manipulate Dean into starting the apocalypse. Too many stares and private conversations, shoulders brushing and shared beer bottles. If Dean and Cas weren't ready to figure out what this thing was between them, it was well and good, but Sam always made it a point to skip the details. Every prolonged stare was just another excuse to hit the library or go on a food run.
He's not quite sure when stares turned into, well, this, but it certainly seems like Dean and Cas connected the dots while Sam was checked out. Cas pushes Dean's jacket to the floor, hands slowly sweeping over the lengths of his arms. Sam knows this is his cue to leave, quick turn down the stairs until he has a cup of whiskey in his hand. Three shots and he might be able to forget that his brother finally found a way to please heaven, even if it was only directed towards one -fallen- angel. And he would go, would slam the door and prepare a speech about modesty and privacy, but there’s something about watching Dean so willingly be guided by the angel that prevents Sam from listening to the warnings in his head.
Dean's all smart mouth and reflex. A spring ready to snap. The byproduct of a life where sleeping with a knife under your pillow means survival. Where friends die bloody, and there's always a demon to remind you that it's your fault. Who can turn Dean's compliance into rage with a smooth down boy from an entirely too British accent.
The jacket falls, and Castiel's hands sweep to the sides of Dean's neck, one continuing until it comes to rest at the base of Dean's head. It's a small gesture, but possessive. Dean feeds into it, closing the distance between them once again. The kiss is soft, slow and dragging until Castiel picks up the pace and pushes in tongue. He keeps Dean's head securely in his grip, making sure he's in charge of the pace.
Sam blinks, neurons are sparking warning signs to his muscles. Move, go, not for your eyes, but Sam's never been particularly good at staying away from things that were detrimental to his health. So he stays and watches everything as if staking out a new vampire nest for the first time.
Dean reaches out then, sharp and quick with intent. Castiel's jacket finds Dean's on the floor. Something predatory flickers in Dean's eyes, calculating and cool; measuring Cas like he measures every new opponent they come across. It comes as naturally as breathing- searching for weakness, a hint of a sign of who will cry uncle first. When he reaches for Castiel's tie, Castiel's hands move to catch Dean's.
He grips them for a second too long and Sam pinpoints the moment as Dean backing down. In a second, the tension growing in Dean dissolves. Tension Sam didn't even know was there until it wasn't. It makes him wonder what else he doesn't see in his brother. Makes him think of harsh words in a red motel room: must be nice to finally have someone you can trust and knows that somehow, Dean managed to find that person, after all.
There isn't a lack of trust in the way Dean kisses the inside of the angel's palm before it moves to his cheek, then neck. How his hand drops lower until it snakes between cotton and skin, quickly dipping a finger below the belt line. Castiel hisses and Dean chuckles, but then Castiel is on him again. There's no hesitation in the way he moves his head to meet Castiel's. Slow, but sure, breaking only when one moves to bite at chin or ear or shoulder. There's a rhythm there that means familiarity. If Sam needs any indication that this is something stable, he can see it in the way their bodies move without question. Giving and taking.
Dean backs away just enough to pull the remaining shirt over his head. Sam's eyes jump from Dean to the floor, then back to Dean. This isn't Dean, he tells himself before his mind calls bullshit. He passed the red flag to look away ten miles ago, but curiosity keeps him still like water. He wants to see what he missed when he was roaming the country with a grandfather that had already died once.
There isn't a question in the touches, Castiel is leading and taking and Dean gives him everything but a yes sir. Castiel takes his time, traces patterns over Deans muscles. Fingers dip and curve until Dean is twitching under the touch. He bites at his lower lip, placing his hands onto Castiel's shoulders as if to anchor himself.
Dean's breath hitches when Castiel kisses the handprint on his shoulder, drags his tongue over the length of it. It's smoothed over the years, changed from red to white but still an inseparable part of Dean's being. Fingers dig deeper into the angel's shoulders. "Fuck, Cas," Dean breathes and it comes out rushed. Dean tucks his head into the crook of Castiel's neck and for a moment, they pause, drinking each other in. This is the moment Sam realises they never had a chance.
Cas pulls away, hand traveling down Dean's chest, stopping just above the belt line. "Fight cheap for an angel," it's a growl and a plea marked by amusement but mostly frustration. Dean isn't forcing, not even close to taking.
"You still lack patience," Castiel's fingers linger near Dean's belt, tracing the pattern without undoing it. "It is not something that should be rewarded."
And Dean doesn't miss a beat. "Yeah, really gotta work on your dirty talk."
Cas undoes the belt, then button. "I thought we established that you prefer when I do not speak at all." He slides down to his knees then, tugging Dean's jeans down with him.
"You can say or do whatever you want when you're lookin' at me like that." He stutters when Castiel brings a hand to the inside of his thigh, tracing the skin just to the left of Dean's hardening dick.
Cas smiles when it twitches, then moves in to gently kiss the tip. Sam swallows, looks away. Definitely not the same as walking in on Dean with the blonde from the bar.
"Cas-" Dean is half way to a plea. Sam knows he will never beg, but it's enough to have him look back in their direction.
Castiel drags his tongue down Dean's dick, making good on the theory that his mouth has better uses than talking. To drive the point home, he takes Dean fully into his mouth and Sam is willing to bet it isn't a trick lingering from Jimmy's memory.
Dean licks his lips and lets out a shaky breath. Sam half expects Dean to pull at Castiel's hair, crashing into him with the same force he puts into a hunt. But his touch is light, hand traveling to the base of Castiel's neck and rubbing his thumb against the skin and tips of hair. "Just like that angel boy," he says like a puff of air. His fingers thread into Castiel's hair massaging and encouraging, hips rocking, but controlled enough to allow Cas to set their tempo.
Cas pulls off with a loud pop before dragging his mouth down Dean’s length all over again. As if to reward Dean's patience, Castiel increases his speed winning a moan from Dean that comes from his gut. "Mmm, so fucking good." He grabs at his stomach as he struggles to keep himself upright, shaking with the need of it all.
This is Dean- open, feeling, experiencing it all without the wall that Sam wasn't completely sure could be crumbled. This is Cas, giving and teaching, tearing down Dean's defenses one sigh at a time.
Castiel moans around his dick and it's enough to break him. Dean lets out a whine that sticks in his throat and catches himself on the angel's shoulders. Castiel supports Dean's weight, he always does, as he rides out Dean's orgasm, slowing his pace as Dean's moans subside. His hands go up then, gently guiding Dean until he's on his knees in front of the angel.
They take a few seconds to breath before Dean closes the distance between them. He breathes into the kiss, chest still rising and collapsing from the force of his own orgasm. Cas moves to pull away but Dean doesn't seem inclined to let go of his angel so quickly. He circles an around Castiel's head and deepens the kiss, pushing in a tongue that is eagerly welcomed.
Dean snakes his hand down the front of Castiel's pants, squeezing and pulling when they find Castiel's heat underneath them. His breath still uneven, Sam sees the corners of his mouth pull into a grin. "Still beats the hell out of heaven?" There's a smugness to it that's so Dean and Sam can't help but roll his eyes. For his part, Castiel seems to be lost in the feeling of Dean as his only response to grip at Dean's forearms and brace himself from the feelings flooding into his stomach.
There's a softness to Castiel's face that Sam has yet to see, more human than ethereal creature. None of this is for Sam, meant for Dean's eyes only. But they've never really has good luck keeping secrets between them.
"Dean," the name sticks on his tongue and he brings their foreheads together.
"That's right, Cas," Dean's gentle now, still walking Castiel through it though Sam doubts that Castiel needs the guidance. "I got you, man. I'll make it so good."
Dean increases his speed until Castiel is withering under his grasp. A hand that could so easily crush Dean without a seconds notice comes to rest on his cheek.
"Mhm-I...this is-Dean." Dean responds by twisting his grip just so and Castiel brings down his hand to still Dean's. They stay just centimeters apart. "I would like to be inside of you when I climax." It's so quiet and genuine.
Dean smiles with a shake of his head. "That really shouldn't sound so hot."
Dean allows castiel to stand first. It's not the first time Dean found himself kneeling before the angel. Sam's thankful it doesn't involve a broken nose and swollen eyes. He hopes it never will again. If the same thought drifts through either Dean or Castiel's minds, it's lost to the soft stroke of a cheek and a smile that shines through green eyes.
Dean pulls at Castiel's pants until they fall and Sam sucks in a deep breath. Yes, really time to leave.
The action is followed by open mouthed kisses up Castiel's leg, eyes locked on the angel's. There's a tenderness in Dean's actions that Sam rarely sees in his brother. Occasionally, he feels it in a hug that lasts just a few seconds too long, but this is something new entirely; Dean willingly giving himself so openly to someone.
Castiel takes himself away from Dean and walks to the bed. He's all lean muscles, small and inconsequential. It's almost too easy to forget that there is a creature inside the man that has watched the birth of creation and has dipped his feet into the rivers of Babylon, and this creature is giving, has been giving himself, completely to his brother.
"Come," he says when he reaches the bed, and Dean goes to him.
Taking the lead, Castiel guides Dean down and settles himself between Dean's legs. In a second, he mojos a bottle of lube that is monetarily dropped to the side. Sam expects Dean to reach for the bottle, but he simply brings his hand to Castiel's chest, running his finger against the smooth skin before taking up the trail with his tongue. Like with everything else he does, Dean throws himself into the action. Narrowing his vision until nothing exists except for Castiel and the angel drinks in the attention like wine.
Castiel shivers as he strokes himself, thumb trailing along his length in a quickly faltering rhythm. The angel has exorcized demons with a single touch, had them kneel before him and proclaimed himself God, and he's coming undone by Sam's big brother. There's a whisper in enochian and Dean smiles up at him. Sam makes it a point not to remember, doesn't think he wants to know the translation.
Enochian is quickly switched back to english, but the power behind the words lingers. "I will never have enough of you." There's a promise in the words that Sam doesn't miss. Castiel's voice is shaky and rough, intense and so completely open.
He brings his free hand to trace the freckles just below Dean's eyes, hand moving with him as Dean continues licking and nipping. Dean clings to Cas like he can't bear to let him go- legs, fingers, and mouth. And maybe he can't when he finally has something so real and solid at the tips of his fingers. Dean bites Castiel's side and the angel hisses. "Lucky for you I've got a lot to give," it's a tease and an assurance. Dean falls back on his elbows, welcoming.
Castiel's hand comes to a stop. He brings his fingers to Dean's lips and Dean takes them in without a moment's hesitation. Their eyes keep their connection as Dean's tongue swirls around Castiel. He bobs his head and drags his mouth painfully slowly over the fingers. Hell if he'll be outdone by an angel.
Castiel's free hand comes to rest on Dean's chest, fingers digging deeper before he pushes down and Dean is pressed against the mattress. He keeps his palm connected to skin as his free hand reaches for the lube. No time is wasted applying it to his fingers, mixing with saliva.
"Move your hips," Castiel's voice is strained, clearly trying to hold himself back. His order is heard, and Dean shifts to give Cas more room to work in.
For a second Sam thinks Dean is going to cry chicken. Shove the angel and rattle off some excuse about too much cheap whiskey, lack of sleep, or not enough exposure to the outside world. But Dean just breathes, already prepared to give Castiel anything the angel wants, which appears to be everything.
There's a sharp intake of breath when Cas begins to open him. Slow and deliberate. Dean's hands grab at the sheets, flexing with every push of finger, griping tighter with the addition of a new one. "C'mon Cas," it's a plea and a demand, ripped from Dean's throat involuntarily.
Castiel speaks in broken sentences, clearly lost in the sensation of breaking Dean apart. "Everything," he nearly growls, as he pushes and kneads, "is mine to take, to have." Sam doesn't miss the possession or the way he nearly growls the words. "To be broken and remade with my touch."
"Fuck, yes-just..Cas, I need-", the words seem forced out of Dean's throat, raw and honest. "Really-mhh-need you to fuck me."
Cas pulls his fingers out. Kisses Dean once, then pushes himself in completely. There's a long moment when Sam looks away but he hears Dean's sharp intake of breath, followed by a shaky exhale. "Fuck," he groans and Sam can't tell if it's in pain or pleasure. It's probably a mix of both and knowing Dean, it's exactly what he needs.
Dean's curse is quickly followed by a steady: shhhh and then the bed creaks and both men moan. He shouldn't look, still doesn't quite understand why he hasn't walked down the stairs, but he looks back up. There's just something about Dean willingly offering himself to be taken apart that roots Sam to the floorboards.
Castiel grips Dean's hips, pushes in hard but slow. The bed hits the wall with every painstaking trust and Dean takes it all. Dean arches into the trusts, encouraging Cas with a number of please- harder, he grits between strained sighs. “You can do better than that..ugh..shit-just like that." He interchanges please with slurs that Sam's fairly certain no one should be aiming towards an angel.
"Mh, fuck," Dean nearly hisses as Castiel thrusts harder. He pins Dean's hand over his head and consecrates on leaving marks Sam never sees. Dean tugs at his wrists until Cas relents and lets one escape his grip.
Dean uses the opportunity to pull Castiel unbearably close as they move together and Sam rarely seems Dean so sure of what he needs. His fingers press on Castiel's shoulders-back- ass, pulling and tugging, voicelessly asking for everything he can't quite bring himself to say. And Sam gets it. Dean begging to be broken, trusting Cas to put him back together again.
Dean's slurs become monosyllabic sounds, cut off by huffs of air and moans that don't have time to escape his mouth. Sam swears Dean is about to come undone when Cas comes to a stop.
"No fucking way," he bites. "You're not stopping there," it's angry and strained. "We’re not playing this game tonight.”
"I want to to keep your eyes open," Sam barely hears the whisper but he feels the way it vibrates around the room. "Keep looking at me, Dean, or it stops."
Dean's head falls back onto the pillow. "Yeah, that doesn't sound creepy at all."
"Dean-"
"Eyes open. I got it. I just really, really would like it if we could press play here." He shifts himself up.
Apparently satisfied with the situation, Castiel continues moving inside Dean, keeping his pace excruciatingly slow. It's not enough, Dean's always been selfish and he needs more of Cas. Now. "C’mon, Cas- don't...," he grips the sides of the pillow with an increased tension. "More...fuck...just more."
Castiel gives Dean what he needs. He wraps a hand around Dean's erection and squeezes, hand sliding up and down as he picks up his pace. Dean meets him at every thrust, working them into completion.
"God, so close," and Dean whines -whines- low and stifled and too much on the brink of letting go. He's losing the pace they set for themselves, but Castiel is keeping him on track with slow, easy thrusts. He guides Dean until they find their rhythm again, they always do.
"You were created for me, Dean Winchester." Castiel says between deep breaths.
"Jesus, Cas, yes.” It's the closest to ‘I love you’ that Sam has ever heard Dean get.
Another confession that wasn't meant for Sam to hear. He shakes his head, and decides he’s heard enough for the night. With a quiet step backwards, he heads down the stairs, and towards the nearly empty bottle of whiskey - Dean won’t be needed it tonight. Maybe he’ll go on a food run, before hitting the books. He doubts Dean and Cas will be joining him any time soon.
-fin-
So, there it is. It’s the first time I’ve written slash - with the encouragement of a friend. I was covering my eyes after writing a lot of these sentences, so I hope someone can find some enjoyment from this.
Author: fight_thedead
Rating: NC-17
Summary: If Dean and Cas weren't ready to figure out what this thing was between them, it was well and good, but Sam always made it a point to skip the details.
Pairing(s): Top!Castiel/Bottom!Dean
Kinks: Voyeurism
A/N: For the spnkink-meme - Prompt: would love a fic where Dean and Cas have reverential, super loving sex - it doesn't have to be tender or anything just super intense - and Sam is just watching them. Up to author if Sam gets himself off to it or not.
***Sam doesn’t participate, or get involved sexually in any way.
---
When Sam finds Dean, Castiel is with him. It's not an entirely uncommon situation, but when Dean complained about not getting his four hours the night before and went upstairs to play some much needed catch up, Castiel was definitely not around.
The room is dim, the light flickering every so often though Sam can't tell if it's due to the bulb needing to be changed or if it's just reacting to the angel's presence. His hand is on the doorknob when Castiel steps too close into Dean's space. Sam expects a sigh and an overused retort, but Dean reaches his hand up until it's brushing against stubble.
"You are tired," Cas says, as he leans into the touch.
Dean's thumb travels up until it's gliding along the angel's bottom lip. "Sam always says I need to find more time to exercise. Guess I found some."
Dean takes a half step forward, closing the gap between them. They're standing chest to chest before Dean brings his lips to Castiel's and wow, Sam really wasn't expecting to learn something new about his brother tonight.
They've been living in each other's back pockets long enough to be familiar with being woken up by moans or walking into a hotel room earlier than expected. It came with the territory and never prevented them from looking each other in the eyes over breakfast the next morning. This though, well it's not quite walking in on your brother with the blonde from the bar. It's catching your brother with an angel of the Lord, and though Castiel has removed himself from the divine, Sam’s not particularly sure he's the ideal candidate to be ravished.
It’s not a terribly shocking revelation. The dots were already forming when Uriel still thought he could manipulate Dean into starting the apocalypse. Too many stares and private conversations, shoulders brushing and shared beer bottles. If Dean and Cas weren't ready to figure out what this thing was between them, it was well and good, but Sam always made it a point to skip the details. Every prolonged stare was just another excuse to hit the library or go on a food run.
He's not quite sure when stares turned into, well, this, but it certainly seems like Dean and Cas connected the dots while Sam was checked out. Cas pushes Dean's jacket to the floor, hands slowly sweeping over the lengths of his arms. Sam knows this is his cue to leave, quick turn down the stairs until he has a cup of whiskey in his hand. Three shots and he might be able to forget that his brother finally found a way to please heaven, even if it was only directed towards one -fallen- angel. And he would go, would slam the door and prepare a speech about modesty and privacy, but there’s something about watching Dean so willingly be guided by the angel that prevents Sam from listening to the warnings in his head.
Dean's all smart mouth and reflex. A spring ready to snap. The byproduct of a life where sleeping with a knife under your pillow means survival. Where friends die bloody, and there's always a demon to remind you that it's your fault. Who can turn Dean's compliance into rage with a smooth down boy from an entirely too British accent.
The jacket falls, and Castiel's hands sweep to the sides of Dean's neck, one continuing until it comes to rest at the base of Dean's head. It's a small gesture, but possessive. Dean feeds into it, closing the distance between them once again. The kiss is soft, slow and dragging until Castiel picks up the pace and pushes in tongue. He keeps Dean's head securely in his grip, making sure he's in charge of the pace.
Sam blinks, neurons are sparking warning signs to his muscles. Move, go, not for your eyes, but Sam's never been particularly good at staying away from things that were detrimental to his health. So he stays and watches everything as if staking out a new vampire nest for the first time.
Dean reaches out then, sharp and quick with intent. Castiel's jacket finds Dean's on the floor. Something predatory flickers in Dean's eyes, calculating and cool; measuring Cas like he measures every new opponent they come across. It comes as naturally as breathing- searching for weakness, a hint of a sign of who will cry uncle first. When he reaches for Castiel's tie, Castiel's hands move to catch Dean's.
He grips them for a second too long and Sam pinpoints the moment as Dean backing down. In a second, the tension growing in Dean dissolves. Tension Sam didn't even know was there until it wasn't. It makes him wonder what else he doesn't see in his brother. Makes him think of harsh words in a red motel room: must be nice to finally have someone you can trust and knows that somehow, Dean managed to find that person, after all.
There isn't a lack of trust in the way Dean kisses the inside of the angel's palm before it moves to his cheek, then neck. How his hand drops lower until it snakes between cotton and skin, quickly dipping a finger below the belt line. Castiel hisses and Dean chuckles, but then Castiel is on him again. There's no hesitation in the way he moves his head to meet Castiel's. Slow, but sure, breaking only when one moves to bite at chin or ear or shoulder. There's a rhythm there that means familiarity. If Sam needs any indication that this is something stable, he can see it in the way their bodies move without question. Giving and taking.
Dean backs away just enough to pull the remaining shirt over his head. Sam's eyes jump from Dean to the floor, then back to Dean. This isn't Dean, he tells himself before his mind calls bullshit. He passed the red flag to look away ten miles ago, but curiosity keeps him still like water. He wants to see what he missed when he was roaming the country with a grandfather that had already died once.
There isn't a question in the touches, Castiel is leading and taking and Dean gives him everything but a yes sir. Castiel takes his time, traces patterns over Deans muscles. Fingers dip and curve until Dean is twitching under the touch. He bites at his lower lip, placing his hands onto Castiel's shoulders as if to anchor himself.
Dean's breath hitches when Castiel kisses the handprint on his shoulder, drags his tongue over the length of it. It's smoothed over the years, changed from red to white but still an inseparable part of Dean's being. Fingers dig deeper into the angel's shoulders. "Fuck, Cas," Dean breathes and it comes out rushed. Dean tucks his head into the crook of Castiel's neck and for a moment, they pause, drinking each other in. This is the moment Sam realises they never had a chance.
Cas pulls away, hand traveling down Dean's chest, stopping just above the belt line. "Fight cheap for an angel," it's a growl and a plea marked by amusement but mostly frustration. Dean isn't forcing, not even close to taking.
"You still lack patience," Castiel's fingers linger near Dean's belt, tracing the pattern without undoing it. "It is not something that should be rewarded."
And Dean doesn't miss a beat. "Yeah, really gotta work on your dirty talk."
Cas undoes the belt, then button. "I thought we established that you prefer when I do not speak at all." He slides down to his knees then, tugging Dean's jeans down with him.
"You can say or do whatever you want when you're lookin' at me like that." He stutters when Castiel brings a hand to the inside of his thigh, tracing the skin just to the left of Dean's hardening dick.
Cas smiles when it twitches, then moves in to gently kiss the tip. Sam swallows, looks away. Definitely not the same as walking in on Dean with the blonde from the bar.
"Cas-" Dean is half way to a plea. Sam knows he will never beg, but it's enough to have him look back in their direction.
Castiel drags his tongue down Dean's dick, making good on the theory that his mouth has better uses than talking. To drive the point home, he takes Dean fully into his mouth and Sam is willing to bet it isn't a trick lingering from Jimmy's memory.
Dean licks his lips and lets out a shaky breath. Sam half expects Dean to pull at Castiel's hair, crashing into him with the same force he puts into a hunt. But his touch is light, hand traveling to the base of Castiel's neck and rubbing his thumb against the skin and tips of hair. "Just like that angel boy," he says like a puff of air. His fingers thread into Castiel's hair massaging and encouraging, hips rocking, but controlled enough to allow Cas to set their tempo.
Cas pulls off with a loud pop before dragging his mouth down Dean’s length all over again. As if to reward Dean's patience, Castiel increases his speed winning a moan from Dean that comes from his gut. "Mmm, so fucking good." He grabs at his stomach as he struggles to keep himself upright, shaking with the need of it all.
This is Dean- open, feeling, experiencing it all without the wall that Sam wasn't completely sure could be crumbled. This is Cas, giving and teaching, tearing down Dean's defenses one sigh at a time.
Castiel moans around his dick and it's enough to break him. Dean lets out a whine that sticks in his throat and catches himself on the angel's shoulders. Castiel supports Dean's weight, he always does, as he rides out Dean's orgasm, slowing his pace as Dean's moans subside. His hands go up then, gently guiding Dean until he's on his knees in front of the angel.
They take a few seconds to breath before Dean closes the distance between them. He breathes into the kiss, chest still rising and collapsing from the force of his own orgasm. Cas moves to pull away but Dean doesn't seem inclined to let go of his angel so quickly. He circles an around Castiel's head and deepens the kiss, pushing in a tongue that is eagerly welcomed.
Dean snakes his hand down the front of Castiel's pants, squeezing and pulling when they find Castiel's heat underneath them. His breath still uneven, Sam sees the corners of his mouth pull into a grin. "Still beats the hell out of heaven?" There's a smugness to it that's so Dean and Sam can't help but roll his eyes. For his part, Castiel seems to be lost in the feeling of Dean as his only response to grip at Dean's forearms and brace himself from the feelings flooding into his stomach.
There's a softness to Castiel's face that Sam has yet to see, more human than ethereal creature. None of this is for Sam, meant for Dean's eyes only. But they've never really has good luck keeping secrets between them.
"Dean," the name sticks on his tongue and he brings their foreheads together.
"That's right, Cas," Dean's gentle now, still walking Castiel through it though Sam doubts that Castiel needs the guidance. "I got you, man. I'll make it so good."
Dean increases his speed until Castiel is withering under his grasp. A hand that could so easily crush Dean without a seconds notice comes to rest on his cheek.
"Mhm-I...this is-Dean." Dean responds by twisting his grip just so and Castiel brings down his hand to still Dean's. They stay just centimeters apart. "I would like to be inside of you when I climax." It's so quiet and genuine.
Dean smiles with a shake of his head. "That really shouldn't sound so hot."
Dean allows castiel to stand first. It's not the first time Dean found himself kneeling before the angel. Sam's thankful it doesn't involve a broken nose and swollen eyes. He hopes it never will again. If the same thought drifts through either Dean or Castiel's minds, it's lost to the soft stroke of a cheek and a smile that shines through green eyes.
Dean pulls at Castiel's pants until they fall and Sam sucks in a deep breath. Yes, really time to leave.
The action is followed by open mouthed kisses up Castiel's leg, eyes locked on the angel's. There's a tenderness in Dean's actions that Sam rarely sees in his brother. Occasionally, he feels it in a hug that lasts just a few seconds too long, but this is something new entirely; Dean willingly giving himself so openly to someone.
Castiel takes himself away from Dean and walks to the bed. He's all lean muscles, small and inconsequential. It's almost too easy to forget that there is a creature inside the man that has watched the birth of creation and has dipped his feet into the rivers of Babylon, and this creature is giving, has been giving himself, completely to his brother.
"Come," he says when he reaches the bed, and Dean goes to him.
Taking the lead, Castiel guides Dean down and settles himself between Dean's legs. In a second, he mojos a bottle of lube that is monetarily dropped to the side. Sam expects Dean to reach for the bottle, but he simply brings his hand to Castiel's chest, running his finger against the smooth skin before taking up the trail with his tongue. Like with everything else he does, Dean throws himself into the action. Narrowing his vision until nothing exists except for Castiel and the angel drinks in the attention like wine.
Castiel shivers as he strokes himself, thumb trailing along his length in a quickly faltering rhythm. The angel has exorcized demons with a single touch, had them kneel before him and proclaimed himself God, and he's coming undone by Sam's big brother. There's a whisper in enochian and Dean smiles up at him. Sam makes it a point not to remember, doesn't think he wants to know the translation.
Enochian is quickly switched back to english, but the power behind the words lingers. "I will never have enough of you." There's a promise in the words that Sam doesn't miss. Castiel's voice is shaky and rough, intense and so completely open.
He brings his free hand to trace the freckles just below Dean's eyes, hand moving with him as Dean continues licking and nipping. Dean clings to Cas like he can't bear to let him go- legs, fingers, and mouth. And maybe he can't when he finally has something so real and solid at the tips of his fingers. Dean bites Castiel's side and the angel hisses. "Lucky for you I've got a lot to give," it's a tease and an assurance. Dean falls back on his elbows, welcoming.
Castiel's hand comes to a stop. He brings his fingers to Dean's lips and Dean takes them in without a moment's hesitation. Their eyes keep their connection as Dean's tongue swirls around Castiel. He bobs his head and drags his mouth painfully slowly over the fingers. Hell if he'll be outdone by an angel.
Castiel's free hand comes to rest on Dean's chest, fingers digging deeper before he pushes down and Dean is pressed against the mattress. He keeps his palm connected to skin as his free hand reaches for the lube. No time is wasted applying it to his fingers, mixing with saliva.
"Move your hips," Castiel's voice is strained, clearly trying to hold himself back. His order is heard, and Dean shifts to give Cas more room to work in.
For a second Sam thinks Dean is going to cry chicken. Shove the angel and rattle off some excuse about too much cheap whiskey, lack of sleep, or not enough exposure to the outside world. But Dean just breathes, already prepared to give Castiel anything the angel wants, which appears to be everything.
There's a sharp intake of breath when Cas begins to open him. Slow and deliberate. Dean's hands grab at the sheets, flexing with every push of finger, griping tighter with the addition of a new one. "C'mon Cas," it's a plea and a demand, ripped from Dean's throat involuntarily.
Castiel speaks in broken sentences, clearly lost in the sensation of breaking Dean apart. "Everything," he nearly growls, as he pushes and kneads, "is mine to take, to have." Sam doesn't miss the possession or the way he nearly growls the words. "To be broken and remade with my touch."
"Fuck, yes-just..Cas, I need-", the words seem forced out of Dean's throat, raw and honest. "Really-mhh-need you to fuck me."
Cas pulls his fingers out. Kisses Dean once, then pushes himself in completely. There's a long moment when Sam looks away but he hears Dean's sharp intake of breath, followed by a shaky exhale. "Fuck," he groans and Sam can't tell if it's in pain or pleasure. It's probably a mix of both and knowing Dean, it's exactly what he needs.
Dean's curse is quickly followed by a steady: shhhh and then the bed creaks and both men moan. He shouldn't look, still doesn't quite understand why he hasn't walked down the stairs, but he looks back up. There's just something about Dean willingly offering himself to be taken apart that roots Sam to the floorboards.
Castiel grips Dean's hips, pushes in hard but slow. The bed hits the wall with every painstaking trust and Dean takes it all. Dean arches into the trusts, encouraging Cas with a number of please- harder, he grits between strained sighs. “You can do better than that..ugh..shit-just like that." He interchanges please with slurs that Sam's fairly certain no one should be aiming towards an angel.
"Mh, fuck," Dean nearly hisses as Castiel thrusts harder. He pins Dean's hand over his head and consecrates on leaving marks Sam never sees. Dean tugs at his wrists until Cas relents and lets one escape his grip.
Dean uses the opportunity to pull Castiel unbearably close as they move together and Sam rarely seems Dean so sure of what he needs. His fingers press on Castiel's shoulders-back- ass, pulling and tugging, voicelessly asking for everything he can't quite bring himself to say. And Sam gets it. Dean begging to be broken, trusting Cas to put him back together again.
Dean's slurs become monosyllabic sounds, cut off by huffs of air and moans that don't have time to escape his mouth. Sam swears Dean is about to come undone when Cas comes to a stop.
"No fucking way," he bites. "You're not stopping there," it's angry and strained. "We’re not playing this game tonight.”
"I want to to keep your eyes open," Sam barely hears the whisper but he feels the way it vibrates around the room. "Keep looking at me, Dean, or it stops."
Dean's head falls back onto the pillow. "Yeah, that doesn't sound creepy at all."
"Dean-"
"Eyes open. I got it. I just really, really would like it if we could press play here." He shifts himself up.
Apparently satisfied with the situation, Castiel continues moving inside Dean, keeping his pace excruciatingly slow. It's not enough, Dean's always been selfish and he needs more of Cas. Now. "C’mon, Cas- don't...," he grips the sides of the pillow with an increased tension. "More...fuck...just more."
Castiel gives Dean what he needs. He wraps a hand around Dean's erection and squeezes, hand sliding up and down as he picks up his pace. Dean meets him at every thrust, working them into completion.
"God, so close," and Dean whines -whines- low and stifled and too much on the brink of letting go. He's losing the pace they set for themselves, but Castiel is keeping him on track with slow, easy thrusts. He guides Dean until they find their rhythm again, they always do.
"You were created for me, Dean Winchester." Castiel says between deep breaths.
"Jesus, Cas, yes.” It's the closest to ‘I love you’ that Sam has ever heard Dean get.
Another confession that wasn't meant for Sam to hear. He shakes his head, and decides he’s heard enough for the night. With a quiet step backwards, he heads down the stairs, and towards the nearly empty bottle of whiskey - Dean won’t be needed it tonight. Maybe he’ll go on a food run, before hitting the books. He doubts Dean and Cas will be joining him any time soon.
-fin-
So, there it is. It’s the first time I’ve written slash - with the encouragement of a friend. I was covering my eyes after writing a lot of these sentences, so I hope someone can find some enjoyment from this.