wing!fic, take two
Ohhh yeah, appropriate icon is finally appropriate!
Quite New A Thing
girl!Dean/Cas, NC-17. Cas finally shows Dee his wings, and it turns out they're kind of touch-sensitive. Spoilers for "The French Mistake" and "Frontierland". Title comes from e. e. cummings. Kiiiind of written for this prompt at deancaskink.
*
“If I lose against Raphael, we all lose. Everything,” Cas says, heavy and forceful, and Dee narrows her eyes at him.
“Yeah Cas, we know, that’s all you keep saying. You wanna maybe expand on that?”
“I’m sorry,” Cas says briskly, “I’ll explain later-”
“No,” Dee says, crossing the distance between them and grabbing him by the tie like that'll actually stop him fluttering off, “try now. You’ve got the weapons, Raphael’s gone and we’re back from bizzaro world. Talk.”
“Deanna-” Cas growls, and Dee raises her eyebrows at him.
“Yeah, Castiel?”
“Guys, if you want the room to yourselves all you gotta do is ask,” Sam says pointedly, and Dee breaks her staring match with Cas to throw him a ‘very funny, asshole’ glare.
“Start explaining,” she orders, shoving Cas backwards. He lets himself be pushed but only rocks on his heels, still looking pissy.
“You cannot just presume to order me to do your bidding-”
“Yeah I can,” she says easily, dropping into one of the chairs and watching Sam sink into the other one. “I can, Cas, because you just tried to use us as bait for this enemy you’ve been warning us is out to kill us, and you, and if we hadn’t been in some crazy-ass world without magic we’d both be dead.”
“It was Balthazar’s plan,” Cas says mulishly, “and it was necessary. Virgil was the Weapons Keeper of Heaven, he had to be removed to allow any hope of access to his cache. As for the lack of magic - you think that was accidental? He was crippled without it; you were in no danger.”
“Oh really? Cause last time I checked, bullets killed people too,” Dee says sharply, and Cas looks momentarily startled to remember there are weapons other than angelic ones.
“But look Cas, what’s going on up there?” Sam asks, leaning forward earnestly. “How’d you even get to this point? Why’s Raphael so intent on killing you and everyone you know?”
Cas looks rebellious for a moment, like’s he’s just gonna take off, but then he kind of sags and starts talking.
-
“So,” Dee says later, once they’re wrung all they can out of Cas and Sam has gone off to bed. It’s been a weird couple of days and she feels kinda beat too, but she knows Sam also did it to give them some time alone; it’s not like she sees Cas much these days, and when she does he’s usually snappish and worried, sticking around only as long as he has to. Cas’s head snaps up at the sound of her voice. “I keep forgetting you’ve got wings.”
Cas frowns slightly. “That’s because they’re hidden from you; why would you think of them?”
“Mmm,” Dee says, letting herself slide down a little in the chair and watching him from under half-lowered lids. Cas blinks, throat bobbing as he swallows. He catches on pretty fast, these days. “There any reason you can’t show me now?”
“They’re linked to my true form; they’re not a part of it, but a...manifestation on this plane. I don’t know whether your eyes would-”
“If they’re not really part of your true form, they should be fine, right?” Dee says reasonably, and Cas wavers. “If I go blind, we’ll just have tell Sam it was some kind of seriously kinky sex thing.” As usual Cas takes her way too seriously and looks distressed at the very idea, and she sighs and stands up, sauntering over. “C’mon Cas, I bet they’re gorgeous. You looked so amazing with them, even just the shadows. Like you could take on the whole of Heaven and win.” She’s close enough now to lower her voice even further, murmur “Made me kinda wet just lookin’ at you,” and feel Cas draw in a breath against her, eyes darkening, thumbs sliding up under her t-shirt.
The room darkens, light flaring way too bright so she tucks her head against Cas’s shoulder, sudden wind whipping her hair so even more comes loose from its ponytail, and then something wide and soft wraps around her back and she looks up again and finds herself enclosed in Cas’s wings.
They’re grey like ash, each feather barred and tipped in black, and under her scrutiny Cas gently unwinds them and flares them out behind him, watching her as she stares at them, drinking them in. Then she reaches out, looping her arms around his waist, and combs her fingers through the feathers, and he sucks in a breath and freezes in her arms, wings quivering under her fingers.
“Cas?” she asks, withdrawing her hands, and then abruptly she’s up on Bobby’s desk, the wood hard under her thighs and Cas pressed close between her legs.
“Do that again,” he breathes against her mouth, voice gone husky-low like he only gets when he’s really turned on and helpless with it, and she raises her eyebrows and bites at his lower lip, curls her legs around his hips and grabs herself a double handful of feathers.
*
Dee slips away while Sam’s still geeking out over Samuel Colt’s cleverness and waving the box around like a crazy person until Bobby steps up to rescue the phoenix ash before it falls out, catching Cas’s eye and flicking her head towards the stairs. He closes his eyes but stands too, catching the other two’s eye, but they both see he’s going with Dee and exchange raised eyebrows and an eyeroll then go back to what they were doing, Bobby berating Sam for his carelessness and Sam ignoring him in favour of beaming down at the box and its contents like it’s his first born child.
Dee drags Cas upstairs by the hand, too wary of his recently-depleted grace to risk getting him to teleport them and feeling like a teenager again, complete with the crazy urge to giggle, and the moment they get to her room she kicks the door shut behind them and shoves impatiently at the trenchcoat. Cas eyes her like she’s some kind of crazy person and doesn’t help, and she ignores him and strips him down to his shirt, then manhandles him over to the bed and makes him sit so she can get his shoes. He makes a tired effort at an interested face and she smacks him affectionately on the shoulder, then climbs up behind him, kneels up and digs her thumbs into his shoulder muscles.
He makes a low, startled noise and bows his head forward, all the tension going out of his spine, and she hums agreement and carries on, working her way out along his shoulders and reaching over so she can get to his collarbones too, then setting to on his neck. He groans appreciatively and she spans her fingers almost right round, kneading the knots out, then when she’s done yields to the temptation to cram both hands into his hair and make rough fists, raking her fingers through it and making it stand up in clumps. Cas rumbles wordless enjoyment and tips his head back into her palms.
“Okay,” she says after an indulgent few minutes in which Cas was all but purring, giving his hair a last tug, “wings.”
He huffs out a breath, voice gone languid and slow. “It’s not like snapping my fingers, Dee; it requires a considerable amount of energy. Energy I’m not sure I can spare at the moment.”
Dee runs flat hands over his shoulderblades and down over his ribs, leaning in to speak into his ear. “C’mon Cas, if you’re still here it means you don’t have to be anywhere else, so you can take the time to recharge. Anyway, remember what happened last time.” Cas makes a neutral noise, which is bullshit because Dee couldn’t look Bobby in the eye for a good few days afterwards, and every freakin’ time she looked at the desk she got a flash of sense memory, Cas hot between her thighs. “Don’t tell me they don’t need a good grooming, not after everything you’ve been through. And if my magic fingers feel this good on your body...”
Cas grumbles under his breath but drops his head forward, and Dee closes her eyes; light washes past her eyelids and wind grabs at her hair, still plaited back so it could be more easily hidden under a stetson, and then she reopens them and finds Cas’s wings hanging limply from his back, feathers all disarrayed. His shirt is still there, which could be annoying later, but for now she concentrates on shuffling closer on her knees and carefully reaching up to smooth the first feather back into place. Cas hisses, wing twitching, and she draws her hand away again.
“You can continue,” Cas says after a moment, when it’s obvious she’s stopped. “It was merely...an odd sensation.”
“You ticklish?” Dee asks, intrigued and maybe a little devious, and Cas makes a dismissive noise.
Despite that, he continues to flinch for a while afterwards, and every now and then little tremors run through him, making his wings rustle. Once Dee’s finished sorting out the errant feathers though and started stroking through them for real, with long slow sweeps and fingers curling through the feathers in a gentler version of what she earlier did to his hair, his reactions are more what she was looking for; his breathing speeds up, catching a little sometimes on a low sound, and he starts getting restless, wings whispering against the bedcover as they shift, flexing under her hands.
Dee considers him for a moment, then rolls her hands into loose fists, trapping a good clump of feathers. “Stay still.”
Cas’s next breath is harsher than it should be, but his shoulders straighten out obediently. His wings are shaking infinitesimally against her knuckles.
Dee considers saying ‘good boy’, but it’s kinda cheesy and also she’s pretty sure it would result in him pinning her to the bed and informing her, in that almost-normal-but-tellingly-raspy voice, that he is neither. Which would be enjoyable, but not what this is about. Instead, she leans forward and presses her lips between his shoulderblades, speaking with her mouth still against the fabric. “Lose the shirt.”
Almost before she’s finished, her mouth is on bare skin. She hums approvingly and drags both hands out sideways through the feathers as far as she can reach, leaving furrows behind, then brings them both back and presses all ten fingers to the junctions of wing and body, kneading a little and hearing Cas’s breath stutter as his back arches back into it. She works her thumbs right beneath the wing bones where they emerge from his shoulder blades, and he groans, helpless and heartfelt, wings stretching out and round a little so she can get to them better.
He shudders when she curls loose hands over the bone at the top of his wing and rolls her thumbs in circles, getting to the muscle beneath the feathers. It gets worse as she gets to end of that wing; he keeps it straight so she can work on it, but she can feel him almost thrumming under her hands and ducks her head, grinning. He calms a little when she starts from the root of the other wing, but by the time she’s at the tip of that one the long flight feathers are trembling as she combs her fingers idly through them.
“You okay there, Cas?” she asks lightly, running her other hand roughly over the shorter, softer feathers closer to his body, and he makes a stifled noise, wing arching into it. “Something you want to share with the class?”
There’s a whispering rush as the wing sweeps up over her head, then the powerful shove of it against her back and Cas’s arm around her and his other hand on her arm hauling her round, and then she’s smack in his lap, looking right into his slightly wild eyes and feeling him hard against her. She rolls her hips forward, can’t help herself, and his fingers bite into her skin.
“Lie back,” she says breathlessly, laughing a little and shoving ineffectively at his shoulders. It’s like trying to move a wall. “Cas, come on, this is meant to be relaxing, lie down.”
“It isn’t,” Cas informs her, voice like gravel down a mountainside, and kisses her, mindless and all-consuming. Dee clutches at him, his hair, his shoulders, his wings, and curls her fingers incessantly in the feathers, pushing at them instead. Cas’s whole body jerks like she electrocuted him, and a second later they both topple down onto the bed. “Dee...”
“Shh, I know, I’ve got you,” she murmurs, pushing herself upright and shoving her hands deeper into his wings now they’re so obligingly spread out for her. Cas tosses his head back, eyes almost shut and mouth open. She strokes roughly through the feathers, scratching her fingertips through them, and Cas bucks under her. “Can you get off on just this?”
The slits of Cas’s eyes flicker. His voice is only just above a growl. “Yes.”
Dee tightens her fingers, tugging on the feathers trapped between them. Cas’s hips jerk upwards. “Come on then, baby. Come for me.” She slides her hands out along his wings, grabbing random handfuls as she goes, raking her fingers out towards the tips and back towards his body, and his hands slip and scrabble at her waist, her hips, pulling her down against him, gasping out her name in a feverish litany until she stops him with her mouth.
Her hands are buried in feathers, her fingers rubbing over hot skin against the grain of the quills, and Cas is kissing her like she’s his only source of oxygen, desperate and hungry as she grinds down against him, his hands clutching helplessly at her back, her thighs, her hair. She pulls away with a nip to his lower lip and he stares up at her, pupils blown, mouth red, and begs, all angelic reserve gone. “Dee, Dee-”
“Yeah, I’ve got you Cas, c’mon,” she murmurs, dragging her fingers out as far as she can get them then sweeping them in and down and back out again, an infinite loop, and Cas arches under her and comes panting out something that might have been her name. She keeps on running her hands over his wings as he shakes through it, slowing with his breathing until the feathers flex under her hands and Cas is abruptly on top of her, wings spread out and over her like a tent.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Cas says, and then she isn’t. He’s still got his pants on, but that isn’t really relevant here as he slides down her body, hands warm on her thighs and wings stretching up with her arms so she can wrap her fingers through the flight feathers at the first hot sweep of his tongue. He doesn’t even seem to mind her kind of crushing them when he gets to her clit, and she’s already pretty fucking turned on so all he has to do is keep doing that, fuck, but she feels bad about breaking them or something so she switches her deathgrip to the pillow under her head and the feathers settle over her hands, silky and light.
She comes in like three seconds, that first time, but Cas just kind of hums approvingly, like maybe he’s awarding her marks (and fuck but it feels good), and dives right back in, well-versed in what gets her going again, one thumb curled over her inner thigh and feathering over the skin right at the top and making her shiver. She’s got him really fucking good at this, because fuck if she’s gonna date a goddamn angel who can’t give good head, and two more orgasms chase the first, pleasure wrapping its way up her spine and Cas’s wings pressing down over her hands like extra limbs, feathers tickling at her tits and her collarbones and the insides of her elbows.
He finally looks up at her, tongue flashing out over his lower lip, then across the top one, and she groans and mutters curses at him and shoves his head back down, hips meeting him halfway. His laugh rumbles against her and woah, oh yeah, he is a devious bastard, but she can’t complain when he’s licking slow stripes up to her clit and fucking humming against her cunt, the vibrations running right through her and making her legs shake.
She comes down from her fourth orgasm to Cas trailing kisses down her inner thighs to her knee, where he sits up and draws his wings back towards him, watching her get her breath back with a half-smile as his wings fold themselves against his spine. “Going so soon?” she asks, hearing the laziness of the well-fucked in her voice, and he huffs and stretches himself out at her side, wings spilling off his back like decks of cards.
“No, I don’t believe I’m fully recovered yet,” he says, sounding entirely too smug about it, though she can hear the edge of genuine tiredness under it. She really should go back down and start...doing things with the phoenix ash, weaponize it or whatever, but she actually pretty comfy here, and five more minutes won’t hurt. She taps the nearest wing, settling into the mattress, and Cas obediently unfurls it enough to cover her, so at least her modesty (hah) is protected if the other two look in.
“’F anyone asks, ‘m keepin’ you company,” she tells him, and she can hear him smile.
“Of course Dee,” he says, wings shifting minutely like he’s petting her, and she swats vaguely at the feathers covering her then gives herself up to the warmth and Cas breathing deep and even behind her.
Quite New A Thing
girl!Dean/Cas, NC-17. Cas finally shows Dee his wings, and it turns out they're kind of touch-sensitive. Spoilers for "The French Mistake" and "Frontierland". Title comes from e. e. cummings. Kiiiind of written for this prompt at deancaskink.
*
“If I lose against Raphael, we all lose. Everything,” Cas says, heavy and forceful, and Dee narrows her eyes at him.
“Yeah Cas, we know, that’s all you keep saying. You wanna maybe expand on that?”
“I’m sorry,” Cas says briskly, “I’ll explain later-”
“No,” Dee says, crossing the distance between them and grabbing him by the tie like that'll actually stop him fluttering off, “try now. You’ve got the weapons, Raphael’s gone and we’re back from bizzaro world. Talk.”
“Deanna-” Cas growls, and Dee raises her eyebrows at him.
“Yeah, Castiel?”
“Guys, if you want the room to yourselves all you gotta do is ask,” Sam says pointedly, and Dee breaks her staring match with Cas to throw him a ‘very funny, asshole’ glare.
“Start explaining,” she orders, shoving Cas backwards. He lets himself be pushed but only rocks on his heels, still looking pissy.
“You cannot just presume to order me to do your bidding-”
“Yeah I can,” she says easily, dropping into one of the chairs and watching Sam sink into the other one. “I can, Cas, because you just tried to use us as bait for this enemy you’ve been warning us is out to kill us, and you, and if we hadn’t been in some crazy-ass world without magic we’d both be dead.”
“It was Balthazar’s plan,” Cas says mulishly, “and it was necessary. Virgil was the Weapons Keeper of Heaven, he had to be removed to allow any hope of access to his cache. As for the lack of magic - you think that was accidental? He was crippled without it; you were in no danger.”
“Oh really? Cause last time I checked, bullets killed people too,” Dee says sharply, and Cas looks momentarily startled to remember there are weapons other than angelic ones.
“But look Cas, what’s going on up there?” Sam asks, leaning forward earnestly. “How’d you even get to this point? Why’s Raphael so intent on killing you and everyone you know?”
Cas looks rebellious for a moment, like’s he’s just gonna take off, but then he kind of sags and starts talking.
-
“So,” Dee says later, once they’re wrung all they can out of Cas and Sam has gone off to bed. It’s been a weird couple of days and she feels kinda beat too, but she knows Sam also did it to give them some time alone; it’s not like she sees Cas much these days, and when she does he’s usually snappish and worried, sticking around only as long as he has to. Cas’s head snaps up at the sound of her voice. “I keep forgetting you’ve got wings.”
Cas frowns slightly. “That’s because they’re hidden from you; why would you think of them?”
“Mmm,” Dee says, letting herself slide down a little in the chair and watching him from under half-lowered lids. Cas blinks, throat bobbing as he swallows. He catches on pretty fast, these days. “There any reason you can’t show me now?”
“They’re linked to my true form; they’re not a part of it, but a...manifestation on this plane. I don’t know whether your eyes would-”
“If they’re not really part of your true form, they should be fine, right?” Dee says reasonably, and Cas wavers. “If I go blind, we’ll just have tell Sam it was some kind of seriously kinky sex thing.” As usual Cas takes her way too seriously and looks distressed at the very idea, and she sighs and stands up, sauntering over. “C’mon Cas, I bet they’re gorgeous. You looked so amazing with them, even just the shadows. Like you could take on the whole of Heaven and win.” She’s close enough now to lower her voice even further, murmur “Made me kinda wet just lookin’ at you,” and feel Cas draw in a breath against her, eyes darkening, thumbs sliding up under her t-shirt.
The room darkens, light flaring way too bright so she tucks her head against Cas’s shoulder, sudden wind whipping her hair so even more comes loose from its ponytail, and then something wide and soft wraps around her back and she looks up again and finds herself enclosed in Cas’s wings.
They’re grey like ash, each feather barred and tipped in black, and under her scrutiny Cas gently unwinds them and flares them out behind him, watching her as she stares at them, drinking them in. Then she reaches out, looping her arms around his waist, and combs her fingers through the feathers, and he sucks in a breath and freezes in her arms, wings quivering under her fingers.
“Cas?” she asks, withdrawing her hands, and then abruptly she’s up on Bobby’s desk, the wood hard under her thighs and Cas pressed close between her legs.
“Do that again,” he breathes against her mouth, voice gone husky-low like he only gets when he’s really turned on and helpless with it, and she raises her eyebrows and bites at his lower lip, curls her legs around his hips and grabs herself a double handful of feathers.
*
Dee slips away while Sam’s still geeking out over Samuel Colt’s cleverness and waving the box around like a crazy person until Bobby steps up to rescue the phoenix ash before it falls out, catching Cas’s eye and flicking her head towards the stairs. He closes his eyes but stands too, catching the other two’s eye, but they both see he’s going with Dee and exchange raised eyebrows and an eyeroll then go back to what they were doing, Bobby berating Sam for his carelessness and Sam ignoring him in favour of beaming down at the box and its contents like it’s his first born child.
Dee drags Cas upstairs by the hand, too wary of his recently-depleted grace to risk getting him to teleport them and feeling like a teenager again, complete with the crazy urge to giggle, and the moment they get to her room she kicks the door shut behind them and shoves impatiently at the trenchcoat. Cas eyes her like she’s some kind of crazy person and doesn’t help, and she ignores him and strips him down to his shirt, then manhandles him over to the bed and makes him sit so she can get his shoes. He makes a tired effort at an interested face and she smacks him affectionately on the shoulder, then climbs up behind him, kneels up and digs her thumbs into his shoulder muscles.
He makes a low, startled noise and bows his head forward, all the tension going out of his spine, and she hums agreement and carries on, working her way out along his shoulders and reaching over so she can get to his collarbones too, then setting to on his neck. He groans appreciatively and she spans her fingers almost right round, kneading the knots out, then when she’s done yields to the temptation to cram both hands into his hair and make rough fists, raking her fingers through it and making it stand up in clumps. Cas rumbles wordless enjoyment and tips his head back into her palms.
“Okay,” she says after an indulgent few minutes in which Cas was all but purring, giving his hair a last tug, “wings.”
He huffs out a breath, voice gone languid and slow. “It’s not like snapping my fingers, Dee; it requires a considerable amount of energy. Energy I’m not sure I can spare at the moment.”
Dee runs flat hands over his shoulderblades and down over his ribs, leaning in to speak into his ear. “C’mon Cas, if you’re still here it means you don’t have to be anywhere else, so you can take the time to recharge. Anyway, remember what happened last time.” Cas makes a neutral noise, which is bullshit because Dee couldn’t look Bobby in the eye for a good few days afterwards, and every freakin’ time she looked at the desk she got a flash of sense memory, Cas hot between her thighs. “Don’t tell me they don’t need a good grooming, not after everything you’ve been through. And if my magic fingers feel this good on your body...”
Cas grumbles under his breath but drops his head forward, and Dee closes her eyes; light washes past her eyelids and wind grabs at her hair, still plaited back so it could be more easily hidden under a stetson, and then she reopens them and finds Cas’s wings hanging limply from his back, feathers all disarrayed. His shirt is still there, which could be annoying later, but for now she concentrates on shuffling closer on her knees and carefully reaching up to smooth the first feather back into place. Cas hisses, wing twitching, and she draws her hand away again.
“You can continue,” Cas says after a moment, when it’s obvious she’s stopped. “It was merely...an odd sensation.”
“You ticklish?” Dee asks, intrigued and maybe a little devious, and Cas makes a dismissive noise.
Despite that, he continues to flinch for a while afterwards, and every now and then little tremors run through him, making his wings rustle. Once Dee’s finished sorting out the errant feathers though and started stroking through them for real, with long slow sweeps and fingers curling through the feathers in a gentler version of what she earlier did to his hair, his reactions are more what she was looking for; his breathing speeds up, catching a little sometimes on a low sound, and he starts getting restless, wings whispering against the bedcover as they shift, flexing under her hands.
Dee considers him for a moment, then rolls her hands into loose fists, trapping a good clump of feathers. “Stay still.”
Cas’s next breath is harsher than it should be, but his shoulders straighten out obediently. His wings are shaking infinitesimally against her knuckles.
Dee considers saying ‘good boy’, but it’s kinda cheesy and also she’s pretty sure it would result in him pinning her to the bed and informing her, in that almost-normal-but-tellingly-raspy voice, that he is neither. Which would be enjoyable, but not what this is about. Instead, she leans forward and presses her lips between his shoulderblades, speaking with her mouth still against the fabric. “Lose the shirt.”
Almost before she’s finished, her mouth is on bare skin. She hums approvingly and drags both hands out sideways through the feathers as far as she can reach, leaving furrows behind, then brings them both back and presses all ten fingers to the junctions of wing and body, kneading a little and hearing Cas’s breath stutter as his back arches back into it. She works her thumbs right beneath the wing bones where they emerge from his shoulder blades, and he groans, helpless and heartfelt, wings stretching out and round a little so she can get to them better.
He shudders when she curls loose hands over the bone at the top of his wing and rolls her thumbs in circles, getting to the muscle beneath the feathers. It gets worse as she gets to end of that wing; he keeps it straight so she can work on it, but she can feel him almost thrumming under her hands and ducks her head, grinning. He calms a little when she starts from the root of the other wing, but by the time she’s at the tip of that one the long flight feathers are trembling as she combs her fingers idly through them.
“You okay there, Cas?” she asks lightly, running her other hand roughly over the shorter, softer feathers closer to his body, and he makes a stifled noise, wing arching into it. “Something you want to share with the class?”
There’s a whispering rush as the wing sweeps up over her head, then the powerful shove of it against her back and Cas’s arm around her and his other hand on her arm hauling her round, and then she’s smack in his lap, looking right into his slightly wild eyes and feeling him hard against her. She rolls her hips forward, can’t help herself, and his fingers bite into her skin.
“Lie back,” she says breathlessly, laughing a little and shoving ineffectively at his shoulders. It’s like trying to move a wall. “Cas, come on, this is meant to be relaxing, lie down.”
“It isn’t,” Cas informs her, voice like gravel down a mountainside, and kisses her, mindless and all-consuming. Dee clutches at him, his hair, his shoulders, his wings, and curls her fingers incessantly in the feathers, pushing at them instead. Cas’s whole body jerks like she electrocuted him, and a second later they both topple down onto the bed. “Dee...”
“Shh, I know, I’ve got you,” she murmurs, pushing herself upright and shoving her hands deeper into his wings now they’re so obligingly spread out for her. Cas tosses his head back, eyes almost shut and mouth open. She strokes roughly through the feathers, scratching her fingertips through them, and Cas bucks under her. “Can you get off on just this?”
The slits of Cas’s eyes flicker. His voice is only just above a growl. “Yes.”
Dee tightens her fingers, tugging on the feathers trapped between them. Cas’s hips jerk upwards. “Come on then, baby. Come for me.” She slides her hands out along his wings, grabbing random handfuls as she goes, raking her fingers out towards the tips and back towards his body, and his hands slip and scrabble at her waist, her hips, pulling her down against him, gasping out her name in a feverish litany until she stops him with her mouth.
Her hands are buried in feathers, her fingers rubbing over hot skin against the grain of the quills, and Cas is kissing her like she’s his only source of oxygen, desperate and hungry as she grinds down against him, his hands clutching helplessly at her back, her thighs, her hair. She pulls away with a nip to his lower lip and he stares up at her, pupils blown, mouth red, and begs, all angelic reserve gone. “Dee, Dee-”
“Yeah, I’ve got you Cas, c’mon,” she murmurs, dragging her fingers out as far as she can get them then sweeping them in and down and back out again, an infinite loop, and Cas arches under her and comes panting out something that might have been her name. She keeps on running her hands over his wings as he shakes through it, slowing with his breathing until the feathers flex under her hands and Cas is abruptly on top of her, wings spread out and over her like a tent.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Cas says, and then she isn’t. He’s still got his pants on, but that isn’t really relevant here as he slides down her body, hands warm on her thighs and wings stretching up with her arms so she can wrap her fingers through the flight feathers at the first hot sweep of his tongue. He doesn’t even seem to mind her kind of crushing them when he gets to her clit, and she’s already pretty fucking turned on so all he has to do is keep doing that, fuck, but she feels bad about breaking them or something so she switches her deathgrip to the pillow under her head and the feathers settle over her hands, silky and light.
She comes in like three seconds, that first time, but Cas just kind of hums approvingly, like maybe he’s awarding her marks (and fuck but it feels good), and dives right back in, well-versed in what gets her going again, one thumb curled over her inner thigh and feathering over the skin right at the top and making her shiver. She’s got him really fucking good at this, because fuck if she’s gonna date a goddamn angel who can’t give good head, and two more orgasms chase the first, pleasure wrapping its way up her spine and Cas’s wings pressing down over her hands like extra limbs, feathers tickling at her tits and her collarbones and the insides of her elbows.
He finally looks up at her, tongue flashing out over his lower lip, then across the top one, and she groans and mutters curses at him and shoves his head back down, hips meeting him halfway. His laugh rumbles against her and woah, oh yeah, he is a devious bastard, but she can’t complain when he’s licking slow stripes up to her clit and fucking humming against her cunt, the vibrations running right through her and making her legs shake.
She comes down from her fourth orgasm to Cas trailing kisses down her inner thighs to her knee, where he sits up and draws his wings back towards him, watching her get her breath back with a half-smile as his wings fold themselves against his spine. “Going so soon?” she asks, hearing the laziness of the well-fucked in her voice, and he huffs and stretches himself out at her side, wings spilling off his back like decks of cards.
“No, I don’t believe I’m fully recovered yet,” he says, sounding entirely too smug about it, though she can hear the edge of genuine tiredness under it. She really should go back down and start...doing things with the phoenix ash, weaponize it or whatever, but she actually pretty comfy here, and five more minutes won’t hurt. She taps the nearest wing, settling into the mattress, and Cas obediently unfurls it enough to cover her, so at least her modesty (hah) is protected if the other two look in.
“’F anyone asks, ‘m keepin’ you company,” she tells him, and she can hear him smile.
“Of course Dee,” he says, wings shifting minutely like he’s petting her, and she swats vaguely at the feathers covering her then gives herself up to the warmth and Cas breathing deep and even behind her.