Before the Showdown
It was the night before. Tomorrow they were moving out, and they were going to take the Colt and try to kill Lucifer. Kill Sam. He still didn't like the thought. He understood that in this time Sam was Lucifer's vessel, and he liked to think that he'd done everything he could to find another solution
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He squirmed, hands tugging against Cas' grip, although he forgot his struggles for a few moments, groaning as teeth scraped down his throat. His body shuddering at the feeling of it, jarring his nerves in a way that left Dean gasping for breath. Words breathing against his skin, and the way he claimed to know him was sinfully erotic, the way he said it made him swallow, shiver.
He leaned up into it as Cas ground against him. Dean lifting his hips, pressing back, moving, trying for more friction of his denim-clad erection against Cas' in those pajama pants. His body jerking a little as the once-was angel told him he loved to be fucked, that he wanted to be spanked. It was perversely erotic.
And Cas was right. It made his heart race, from the fact that Cas knew. Cas knew what he liked, probably knew far too many of the things that Dean thought he would never admit to anyone. He had a number of perversions he didn't tell people about, after all. It came with being a hedonist. He tilted his head a little, his breath coming in hot pants as he tried vainly to get his hands free, shamelessly rubbing up against Cas.
“Ah.. Cas, how many of my kinks do you know?”
He asked curiously, soft groan slipping past his lips, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment, his head tilting back. He realized, of course, that there was a subtle admittance that Cas was right in the question, but he didn't care. He didn't think the man would have believed him for a second if he'd tried to deny it anyway.
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"All of them," he said. It wasn't cocky, wasn't like he was bragging, it was just a fact. He knew the things that Dean hadn't told anyone else, knew those secret desires that he hadn't dared voice to anyone else, the things he wanted, the things he needed just to be able to feel sometimes. He peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside, making a show of it but not wasting his time, because he wanted them naked. He wanted Dean naked, he wanted to feel the bare skin beneath his hands.
"Stop fighting this," he pushed at his arms again, raising them over Dean's head as he went for the hem of his t-shirt. It was another thing he knew Dean liked, something Dean hadn't actually ever told him but that he'd found out on his own. He liked the control to be taken away, liked the struggle because it made him feel like he wasn't weak, wasn't just submitting, but in the end he liked to lose it. He liked it when Cas took control physically, but he also liked to hear it in his voice, he liked to be held down with words. "We both know you want this… take off your shirt, and then cross your wrists over your head," as he spoke, as he gave Dean the order his hands had gone between their bodies to unfasten the button and zip of his jeans, opening his pants as he shifted so that he could easily slip a hand inside.
But Dean hadn't immediately obeyed.
"Now," he said, voice low with need and lust as he curled his fist around Dean's erection, a silly grin breaking out over his face. He loved this part, breaking through Dean's rough exterior and getting him to the point where he could do nothing but say yes. He kept touching him, kept slowly stroking his length as the shirt was obediently removed and he leaned forward, pressing lazy kisses to Dean's chest, his belly as he moved lower, pushing his pants down and out of the way. Dean would know where this was going. He'd be an idiot not to.
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