Untitled (Dean/Cas - NC-17)
Title: None.
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None, AU.
Warnings: Dub-con, rough sex, implied bondage, dirty talk, D/s vibes.
Word Count: 2722
Summary: For this prompt at the kink meme. "Cas gets really touchy-feely when drunk and personal space is the first thing to go out the window (even more so than usual). Dean gets Cas drunk on purpose knowing this. Cas knows full well what Dean is trying to do and plays along with his naive, innocent role but on the inside he enjoys acting like a whore for Dean."
Disclaimer: Seriously?
A/N: Sometimes I write questionable porn.
Cas knows exactly how the evening’s going to end up. Because whenever Dean shows up at his door after midnight with that look on his face and a bag from the liquor store down the street it always ends the same way. They’ll get really, really drunk, Cas will play up his lack of respect for personal space, Dean will pass out on the couch, and Cas will jerk off in the shower.
He knows that this isn’t really healthy behavior. But he’s pathetically in love with his best friend and the only time he can get away with touching him is when he’s drunk. It’s not that he isn’t a clingy drunk, he really is; he just may or may not exaggerate it when Dean’s around. Dean absently petting his hair when he staggers against him is worth feeling like a fool in the morning.
So Cas mentally counts the shots he’s taking as he and Dean have a heated Black Sabbath versus Led Zeppelin debate. When he’s around eight and there’s a lull in the conversation he takes the opportunity to slump over a little bit and lean on Dean’s shoulder. For all that he’s blessed with a liver of steel, he’s still not sober and ends up landing with his head on Dean’s thigh. On a lot of levels he’s completely okay with this, but it feels a bit like taking advantage so he chuckles, turns it into a giggle, and starts to press himself up with a hand braced on Dean’s knee.
Somewhere above him Dean huffs a laugh and pats his head and - was that the slightest hint of downward pressure? Cas chuckles again and goes with it, letting his head fall back onto Dean’s thigh. It’s warm and soft because Dean’s wearing his oldest jeans. The ones that frame his ass perfectly that have the beginnings of a slight hole in the upper inner thigh that Cas hopes he never notices.
“Cas, you are such a light weight,” Dean scolds jokingly, still petting Cas’ hair.
“I know, ‘m sorry,” he mumbles rolling onto his opposite side so he can face Dean’s stomach, or face if he cranes his neck a little, rubbing his cheek into the denim.
Dean laughs, “It’s okay, I’ll forgive you this once.”
“Thank you, sir,” Cas says, voice pitched higher with a ridiculous accent because his sister Anna’s on a Dickens movie kick. He could almost swear Dean’s fingers clench his hair just the littlest bit, but it’s probably because he’s rolling to hide his face in Dean’s leg. Dean smells like fabric softener, it’s kind of really nice.
“Uh,” Dean stutters like maybe he’s just realized how close Cas is to his erection which Cas can feel nicely against the top of his head. He supposes it could be a flashlight, but he kind of doubts it.
If Dean is hard, Cas’ intoxicated mind reasons, that means he’s into this. Which means it’s okay for Cas to shift that littlest bit more until he bites Dean’s leg and rubs his head against Dean’s hard-on.
Dean’s fingers are definitely clenching in his hair this time, and he’s definitely tugging Cas so his face is closer to the fly of his jeans.
Cas can work with this. He presses his mouth to the denim and licks. It’s not that pleasant, because who actually enjoys licking cloth, but he can feel the heat underneath and Dean’s breath stutters from the visual and Cas knows they’re imagining the same thing. He’s waiting for Dean to freak out and throw him off and leave his apartment, never to return, but he may as well hook his fingers in Dean’s belt and tug so he can get a better angle from which to mouth Dean’s cock while he waits.
He’s so going to hell for this.
Dean makes a happy sort of noise and just keeps petting his hair with one hand, the other slipping down the neck of his shirt to drag nails along his spine. Something about the action makes Cas realizes that for his eight shots, Dean had downed only two. Which means he knows precisely what is going on. Distantly Cas knows that encouraging a drunk friend to blow you, at least that’s where Cas really hopes this is going, is pretty creepy. That is something he’ll care about in the morning. Right now he’s going to awkwardly undo Dean’s belt.
Dean pulls him up by his hair and it’s probably a bit wrong how much he enjoys the sting. He lets out a little high pitched whine and nuzzles Dean’s forearm before turning to grin at Dean, open and easy with dopey eyes. He sort of expects something to happen, like for Dean to shove him off, or back on his dick, or ask him a question or something, but he doesn’t. Cas simplifies things by just lunging forward and kissing him.
Dean’s lips are warm and soft and his stubble scratches at the skin around his lips. It takes a second, but Dean starts to kiss him back. Easily taking control, both hands buried in Cas hair and pulling, he slips his tongue into the other man’s mouth. Cas doesn’t even hesitate, just opens his mouth wide and lets Dean take everything because this is even better than he imagined it would be. And for a few minutes it’s all hot, slick tongues and Cas is pretty sure he’s making some embarrassing noises, but he could really care less.
It’s all good until Dean’s hands slide down to his shoulders and push. Cas is taken by surprise and lands heavily on his back, wondering if this is when he needs to wake up. But Dean is real and isn’t leaving, he’s just moving forward to cover Cas’ body with his own. And then it’s all slick heat again as Cas grasps Dean’s head by the jaw and keeps him where he wants him. He’s taken by surprise by the hand grasping his leg behind the knee, but then it pulls and the object is clear. Cas lets his leg swing off the couch and hooks his other ankle on the back of the couch. Dean moves into the space he’s made like he belongs there, and he really, really does.
They rut together until it’s perfect, until Cas can feel Dean’s erection against his hole with every rough push, and if they weren’t wearing clothing they’d probably be fucking right now.
Dean’s biting and sucking kisses down his throat and Cas hopes to god he leaves bruises. His mouth is wide open and gasping; he doesn’t even mean to whine when Dean’s hand cups his erection firmly through his jeans. He bucks into the pressure and rubs the back of his head against the arm of the couch, wanting so much more.
“Do you like that?” Dean whispers against his collarbone.
And then Cas gets what Dean wants. He doesn’t just want sex, he wants Cas unsure, needy, and maybe a bit naïve. Cas can do that. He can totally do that.
“Yes, yes,” he whimpers, voice pitched a little bit higher. Maybe he should feel ridiculous, but the sound makes Dean’s hips jerk forward and his grip on Cas’ hip tighten so Cas could care less.
Dean gets Cas’ pants undone with one hand and slides his hand easily into his boxers to get a hand on his dick. Cas moans, real and true, because Dean’s hands are calloused and gripping him just right.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Dean is whispering into his ear. “Do you know the things I want to do to you, with you? Fuck, Cas, I want to take you to my bed and never let you leave.”
“Yes, yes,” Cas repeats. “Dean,” he gasps when Dean’s thumb drags along the head of his cock, he’s so fucking slick already it’s ridiculous.
“You’re so wet for me,” Dean mumbles, “how can you be real? So fucking beautiful. God, your mouth.”
“Uh?” Cas asks, bleary and wet-eyed because Dean’s hand is perfect and he could probably get off to him reading off a grocery list.
He doesn’t miss the way Dean stares at his mouth, red and wet and open. He bites down on his bottom lip when Dean’s hand cups his balls just right.
“The things I would do to your mouth,” he says mostly to himself, tracking the drag of Cas tongue across his swollen bottom lip with his eyes.
“Tell me,” Cas mutters, “Oh fuck, Deandeandean.” His toes are curling and he’s so, so close. “Dean.”
“I want your lips wrapped around my cock. I want to see how you far can take it. I wouldn’t fuck your mouth, well, I would but - but mostly I’d just watch you take it all by yourself. In my head, ah, Cas,” he’s humping the back of Cas’ thigh to match the pace of his hand. “In my head you want it so fucking bad you come just from that. You come in your pants as you swallow my come.” His hands moving faster, gripping harder on the downstroke, fingering the slit just right. “Do you know how often I get off to that image?”
Cas comes with a scream, back arching, thigh muscles clenching so hard it hurts, he throws his head back and wails as his orgasm takes him by surprise, wet spurts almost up to his chin ruining his shirt.
“Jesus Christ, Cas,” Dean says, as he starts fucking more earnestly against Cas’ thigh. He’s probably about to come and that’s just not okay.
“Let me blow you,” Cas blurts, because this is probably a one time deal and he’s not letting it end without getting Dean’s dick in him in whatever way he can.
“Really?” Dean’s surprised like he can’t imagine anyone wanting to get on their knees for him.
“Please, Dean,” Cas whimpers, “I want to. I want you in my mouth so bad.” Dirty talking isn’t something he normally does, but he can feel Dean’s cock twitch against his leg as he speaks.
“Yeah, yeah okay,” Dean agrees, dazed and disbelieving as Cas slides out from underneath him to get on his knees on the floor. Dean moves into a sitting position, eyes still so fucking wide like he can’t believe his luck.
Cas pulls his filthy shirt over his head and tosses it to the side, trying not to look too eager as he works Dean’s jeans open and part way down his thighs. He’s big, about the size Cas imagines when he finger-fucks himself alone in his bed, maybe a little thicker. Blood-flushed and so fucking wet at the top; Cas knows he’s close.
He takes a glance at Dean’s face before leaning forward. There’s a sort of terrified look on his face like he’s waiting for Cas to shout “April fool’s” and leave, but Cas just licks a long, wet stripe up the underside and doesn’t do a thing to muffle his moan at the taste.
True to his word, Dean doesn’t touch Cas’ head, doesn’t shove him down and show him what he likes, he just pets Cas’ shoulders and watches.
Cas really sort of wishes that he would fuck his mouth, but he can get into this. He can get into keeping his eyes locked on Dean’s face as he bobs his head, moves his tongue against the vein, sucks furiously on the head and moans at the pre-come on his tongue.
Dean looks positively rapturous when, after tugging Dean’s hips further down the couch, he takes his dick into his mouth until he can feel it push against the back of his throat. He pauses to concentrate on not gagging and then keeps going until his nose is pressed to the flesh of Dean’s pelvis and Dean’s whimpering like he’s been shot.
Cas pulls back with an obscene pop, “Is this right?” he asks, lazily pumping Dean’s dick one-handed, like he doesn’t know for a fact that he gives fucking awesome blowjobs, being incredibly flexible has its perks.
He doesn’t wait for an answer that could be long coming; Dean looks like he doesn’t even know what language Cas is speaking.
He leans in again, one hand gripping the base of Dean’s cock and moving in easy synchrony with his mouth, the other sliding down to fondle his balls, stroke across Dean’s hole and wonder.
Above him Dean’s muttering to himself, Cas getting only words here and there. Phrases like, “fuck you,” “tie you up,” “begging for it,” “eat you out,” and “fuck me… anything you want.”
When he takes Dean’s cock all the way into his throat again, times it with a press to Dean’s perineum, Dean shouts and one of his hands leaves off its absent petting to grab the back of Cas’ head and hold him still so Dean can grind into his mouth. Cas’ eyes are watering and his jaw’s starting to hurt, but he doesn’t protest, just swallows and listens to Dean’s broken, “Oh, Jesus, fuck, Cas!” when he comes down his throat.
He pulls off when Dean’s hand releases his hair soon after, coughs and swallows awkwardly, wipes the spit off his chin, as he surveys his handiwork.
Dean looks fucking ruined, an utter mess. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to - did I hurt you?” He tugs his pants up around his hips, but doesn’t fasten them.
Cas shakes his head because the answer’s ‘yes,’ but it’s ‘yes, and I liked it’ which is closer to a no.
“Good, good. That’s,” Dean’s half-unconscious already and Cas isn’t going to lie about being proud of it. “That’s good.” He slumps over onto the couch and flaps a hand vaguely at the man kneeling on the floor. “Come here.”
Cas isn’t sure what he wants, but obeys anyway and lets Dean maneuver them until he’s lying with his back pressed up against Dean’s chest. He wraps an arm around his waist and mutters, “I don’t cuddle,” stubbornly into the back of Cas’ neck. He might say something after that, but Cas is already asleep.
***
Cas wakes up to a headache, a scratchy throat, and a warm body pressed up against his. He sits up with a groan and buries his face in his hands, wondering if the best option is to do up Dean’s pants and go to his own bedroom like nothing happened last night. He knows that Dean wanted it, maybe almost as badly as he did, but will he be able to admit that to a Cas that’s sober?
The choice is taken away by Dean rolling into the space he’d just vacated and blinking up at him. “Cas?” Cas says nothing as he watches realization hit him. “I - I didn’t-“
Cas cuts him off and throws caution to the wind. “If you wanted to fuck me,” he starts, voice hoarse, “you could have just said something. Alcohol wasn’t necessary.”
“I didn’t mean for it to go so far,” Dean starts, covering his face. “It’s totally lame, but I love how clingy you get when you’re drunk, and I just started thinking, what if? I thought - I thought dry humping, maybe a hand job. I didn’t mean to make you-“
“Dean,” Cas cuts him off for the second time that morning. “You didn’t make me do anything. I touch you when I’m drunk because I like touching you. I blew you last night, because I really, really wanted to. I let you fuck my mouth because I enjoy it.” Dean swallows thickly, breath maybe a little bit fast as Cas stands and pulls Dean until he’s lying flat on his back and then straddles him, pressing his ass firmly to Dean’s dick. Dean watches him, lips slightly parted, hands gripping Cas’ thighs. “Kind of like right now, you’re going to call in sick, we’re going to move to my bedroom,” Cas slides a hand under Dean’s shirt and drags his nails down until they hit the waistline of Dean’s boxers. Dean groans and shifts, rubbing up into Cas’ ass. “And you’re going to fuck me until I can’t walk.”
Dean licks his lips and nods frantically while Cas leans forward. “If you’re very, very good,” he whispers in Dean’s ear, “I’ll show you where I keep the handcuffs.”
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None, AU.
Warnings: Dub-con, rough sex, implied bondage, dirty talk, D/s vibes.
Word Count: 2722
Summary: For this prompt at the kink meme. "Cas gets really touchy-feely when drunk and personal space is the first thing to go out the window (even more so than usual). Dean gets Cas drunk on purpose knowing this. Cas knows full well what Dean is trying to do and plays along with his naive, innocent role but on the inside he enjoys acting like a whore for Dean."
Disclaimer: Seriously?
A/N: Sometimes I write questionable porn.
Cas knows exactly how the evening’s going to end up. Because whenever Dean shows up at his door after midnight with that look on his face and a bag from the liquor store down the street it always ends the same way. They’ll get really, really drunk, Cas will play up his lack of respect for personal space, Dean will pass out on the couch, and Cas will jerk off in the shower.
He knows that this isn’t really healthy behavior. But he’s pathetically in love with his best friend and the only time he can get away with touching him is when he’s drunk. It’s not that he isn’t a clingy drunk, he really is; he just may or may not exaggerate it when Dean’s around. Dean absently petting his hair when he staggers against him is worth feeling like a fool in the morning.
So Cas mentally counts the shots he’s taking as he and Dean have a heated Black Sabbath versus Led Zeppelin debate. When he’s around eight and there’s a lull in the conversation he takes the opportunity to slump over a little bit and lean on Dean’s shoulder. For all that he’s blessed with a liver of steel, he’s still not sober and ends up landing with his head on Dean’s thigh. On a lot of levels he’s completely okay with this, but it feels a bit like taking advantage so he chuckles, turns it into a giggle, and starts to press himself up with a hand braced on Dean’s knee.
Somewhere above him Dean huffs a laugh and pats his head and - was that the slightest hint of downward pressure? Cas chuckles again and goes with it, letting his head fall back onto Dean’s thigh. It’s warm and soft because Dean’s wearing his oldest jeans. The ones that frame his ass perfectly that have the beginnings of a slight hole in the upper inner thigh that Cas hopes he never notices.
“Cas, you are such a light weight,” Dean scolds jokingly, still petting Cas’ hair.
“I know, ‘m sorry,” he mumbles rolling onto his opposite side so he can face Dean’s stomach, or face if he cranes his neck a little, rubbing his cheek into the denim.
Dean laughs, “It’s okay, I’ll forgive you this once.”
“Thank you, sir,” Cas says, voice pitched higher with a ridiculous accent because his sister Anna’s on a Dickens movie kick. He could almost swear Dean’s fingers clench his hair just the littlest bit, but it’s probably because he’s rolling to hide his face in Dean’s leg. Dean smells like fabric softener, it’s kind of really nice.
“Uh,” Dean stutters like maybe he’s just realized how close Cas is to his erection which Cas can feel nicely against the top of his head. He supposes it could be a flashlight, but he kind of doubts it.
If Dean is hard, Cas’ intoxicated mind reasons, that means he’s into this. Which means it’s okay for Cas to shift that littlest bit more until he bites Dean’s leg and rubs his head against Dean’s hard-on.
Dean’s fingers are definitely clenching in his hair this time, and he’s definitely tugging Cas so his face is closer to the fly of his jeans.
Cas can work with this. He presses his mouth to the denim and licks. It’s not that pleasant, because who actually enjoys licking cloth, but he can feel the heat underneath and Dean’s breath stutters from the visual and Cas knows they’re imagining the same thing. He’s waiting for Dean to freak out and throw him off and leave his apartment, never to return, but he may as well hook his fingers in Dean’s belt and tug so he can get a better angle from which to mouth Dean’s cock while he waits.
He’s so going to hell for this.
Dean makes a happy sort of noise and just keeps petting his hair with one hand, the other slipping down the neck of his shirt to drag nails along his spine. Something about the action makes Cas realizes that for his eight shots, Dean had downed only two. Which means he knows precisely what is going on. Distantly Cas knows that encouraging a drunk friend to blow you, at least that’s where Cas really hopes this is going, is pretty creepy. That is something he’ll care about in the morning. Right now he’s going to awkwardly undo Dean’s belt.
Dean pulls him up by his hair and it’s probably a bit wrong how much he enjoys the sting. He lets out a little high pitched whine and nuzzles Dean’s forearm before turning to grin at Dean, open and easy with dopey eyes. He sort of expects something to happen, like for Dean to shove him off, or back on his dick, or ask him a question or something, but he doesn’t. Cas simplifies things by just lunging forward and kissing him.
Dean’s lips are warm and soft and his stubble scratches at the skin around his lips. It takes a second, but Dean starts to kiss him back. Easily taking control, both hands buried in Cas hair and pulling, he slips his tongue into the other man’s mouth. Cas doesn’t even hesitate, just opens his mouth wide and lets Dean take everything because this is even better than he imagined it would be. And for a few minutes it’s all hot, slick tongues and Cas is pretty sure he’s making some embarrassing noises, but he could really care less.
It’s all good until Dean’s hands slide down to his shoulders and push. Cas is taken by surprise and lands heavily on his back, wondering if this is when he needs to wake up. But Dean is real and isn’t leaving, he’s just moving forward to cover Cas’ body with his own. And then it’s all slick heat again as Cas grasps Dean’s head by the jaw and keeps him where he wants him. He’s taken by surprise by the hand grasping his leg behind the knee, but then it pulls and the object is clear. Cas lets his leg swing off the couch and hooks his other ankle on the back of the couch. Dean moves into the space he’s made like he belongs there, and he really, really does.
They rut together until it’s perfect, until Cas can feel Dean’s erection against his hole with every rough push, and if they weren’t wearing clothing they’d probably be fucking right now.
Dean’s biting and sucking kisses down his throat and Cas hopes to god he leaves bruises. His mouth is wide open and gasping; he doesn’t even mean to whine when Dean’s hand cups his erection firmly through his jeans. He bucks into the pressure and rubs the back of his head against the arm of the couch, wanting so much more.
“Do you like that?” Dean whispers against his collarbone.
And then Cas gets what Dean wants. He doesn’t just want sex, he wants Cas unsure, needy, and maybe a bit naïve. Cas can do that. He can totally do that.
“Yes, yes,” he whimpers, voice pitched a little bit higher. Maybe he should feel ridiculous, but the sound makes Dean’s hips jerk forward and his grip on Cas’ hip tighten so Cas could care less.
Dean gets Cas’ pants undone with one hand and slides his hand easily into his boxers to get a hand on his dick. Cas moans, real and true, because Dean’s hands are calloused and gripping him just right.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Dean is whispering into his ear. “Do you know the things I want to do to you, with you? Fuck, Cas, I want to take you to my bed and never let you leave.”
“Yes, yes,” Cas repeats. “Dean,” he gasps when Dean’s thumb drags along the head of his cock, he’s so fucking slick already it’s ridiculous.
“You’re so wet for me,” Dean mumbles, “how can you be real? So fucking beautiful. God, your mouth.”
“Uh?” Cas asks, bleary and wet-eyed because Dean’s hand is perfect and he could probably get off to him reading off a grocery list.
He doesn’t miss the way Dean stares at his mouth, red and wet and open. He bites down on his bottom lip when Dean’s hand cups his balls just right.
“The things I would do to your mouth,” he says mostly to himself, tracking the drag of Cas tongue across his swollen bottom lip with his eyes.
“Tell me,” Cas mutters, “Oh fuck, Deandeandean.” His toes are curling and he’s so, so close. “Dean.”
“I want your lips wrapped around my cock. I want to see how you far can take it. I wouldn’t fuck your mouth, well, I would but - but mostly I’d just watch you take it all by yourself. In my head, ah, Cas,” he’s humping the back of Cas’ thigh to match the pace of his hand. “In my head you want it so fucking bad you come just from that. You come in your pants as you swallow my come.” His hands moving faster, gripping harder on the downstroke, fingering the slit just right. “Do you know how often I get off to that image?”
Cas comes with a scream, back arching, thigh muscles clenching so hard it hurts, he throws his head back and wails as his orgasm takes him by surprise, wet spurts almost up to his chin ruining his shirt.
“Jesus Christ, Cas,” Dean says, as he starts fucking more earnestly against Cas’ thigh. He’s probably about to come and that’s just not okay.
“Let me blow you,” Cas blurts, because this is probably a one time deal and he’s not letting it end without getting Dean’s dick in him in whatever way he can.
“Really?” Dean’s surprised like he can’t imagine anyone wanting to get on their knees for him.
“Please, Dean,” Cas whimpers, “I want to. I want you in my mouth so bad.” Dirty talking isn’t something he normally does, but he can feel Dean’s cock twitch against his leg as he speaks.
“Yeah, yeah okay,” Dean agrees, dazed and disbelieving as Cas slides out from underneath him to get on his knees on the floor. Dean moves into a sitting position, eyes still so fucking wide like he can’t believe his luck.
Cas pulls his filthy shirt over his head and tosses it to the side, trying not to look too eager as he works Dean’s jeans open and part way down his thighs. He’s big, about the size Cas imagines when he finger-fucks himself alone in his bed, maybe a little thicker. Blood-flushed and so fucking wet at the top; Cas knows he’s close.
He takes a glance at Dean’s face before leaning forward. There’s a sort of terrified look on his face like he’s waiting for Cas to shout “April fool’s” and leave, but Cas just licks a long, wet stripe up the underside and doesn’t do a thing to muffle his moan at the taste.
True to his word, Dean doesn’t touch Cas’ head, doesn’t shove him down and show him what he likes, he just pets Cas’ shoulders and watches.
Cas really sort of wishes that he would fuck his mouth, but he can get into this. He can get into keeping his eyes locked on Dean’s face as he bobs his head, moves his tongue against the vein, sucks furiously on the head and moans at the pre-come on his tongue.
Dean looks positively rapturous when, after tugging Dean’s hips further down the couch, he takes his dick into his mouth until he can feel it push against the back of his throat. He pauses to concentrate on not gagging and then keeps going until his nose is pressed to the flesh of Dean’s pelvis and Dean’s whimpering like he’s been shot.
Cas pulls back with an obscene pop, “Is this right?” he asks, lazily pumping Dean’s dick one-handed, like he doesn’t know for a fact that he gives fucking awesome blowjobs, being incredibly flexible has its perks.
He doesn’t wait for an answer that could be long coming; Dean looks like he doesn’t even know what language Cas is speaking.
He leans in again, one hand gripping the base of Dean’s cock and moving in easy synchrony with his mouth, the other sliding down to fondle his balls, stroke across Dean’s hole and wonder.
Above him Dean’s muttering to himself, Cas getting only words here and there. Phrases like, “fuck you,” “tie you up,” “begging for it,” “eat you out,” and “fuck me… anything you want.”
When he takes Dean’s cock all the way into his throat again, times it with a press to Dean’s perineum, Dean shouts and one of his hands leaves off its absent petting to grab the back of Cas’ head and hold him still so Dean can grind into his mouth. Cas’ eyes are watering and his jaw’s starting to hurt, but he doesn’t protest, just swallows and listens to Dean’s broken, “Oh, Jesus, fuck, Cas!” when he comes down his throat.
He pulls off when Dean’s hand releases his hair soon after, coughs and swallows awkwardly, wipes the spit off his chin, as he surveys his handiwork.
Dean looks fucking ruined, an utter mess. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to - did I hurt you?” He tugs his pants up around his hips, but doesn’t fasten them.
Cas shakes his head because the answer’s ‘yes,’ but it’s ‘yes, and I liked it’ which is closer to a no.
“Good, good. That’s,” Dean’s half-unconscious already and Cas isn’t going to lie about being proud of it. “That’s good.” He slumps over onto the couch and flaps a hand vaguely at the man kneeling on the floor. “Come here.”
Cas isn’t sure what he wants, but obeys anyway and lets Dean maneuver them until he’s lying with his back pressed up against Dean’s chest. He wraps an arm around his waist and mutters, “I don’t cuddle,” stubbornly into the back of Cas’ neck. He might say something after that, but Cas is already asleep.
***
Cas wakes up to a headache, a scratchy throat, and a warm body pressed up against his. He sits up with a groan and buries his face in his hands, wondering if the best option is to do up Dean’s pants and go to his own bedroom like nothing happened last night. He knows that Dean wanted it, maybe almost as badly as he did, but will he be able to admit that to a Cas that’s sober?
The choice is taken away by Dean rolling into the space he’d just vacated and blinking up at him. “Cas?” Cas says nothing as he watches realization hit him. “I - I didn’t-“
Cas cuts him off and throws caution to the wind. “If you wanted to fuck me,” he starts, voice hoarse, “you could have just said something. Alcohol wasn’t necessary.”
“I didn’t mean for it to go so far,” Dean starts, covering his face. “It’s totally lame, but I love how clingy you get when you’re drunk, and I just started thinking, what if? I thought - I thought dry humping, maybe a hand job. I didn’t mean to make you-“
“Dean,” Cas cuts him off for the second time that morning. “You didn’t make me do anything. I touch you when I’m drunk because I like touching you. I blew you last night, because I really, really wanted to. I let you fuck my mouth because I enjoy it.” Dean swallows thickly, breath maybe a little bit fast as Cas stands and pulls Dean until he’s lying flat on his back and then straddles him, pressing his ass firmly to Dean’s dick. Dean watches him, lips slightly parted, hands gripping Cas’ thighs. “Kind of like right now, you’re going to call in sick, we’re going to move to my bedroom,” Cas slides a hand under Dean’s shirt and drags his nails down until they hit the waistline of Dean’s boxers. Dean groans and shifts, rubbing up into Cas’ ass. “And you’re going to fuck me until I can’t walk.”
Dean licks his lips and nods frantically while Cas leans forward. “If you’re very, very good,” he whispers in Dean’s ear, “I’ll show you where I keep the handcuffs.”