fic: MMOM #25: Dedicated to All Angels (Dean/Castiel)
Title: Dedicated to All Angels
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Sam, Dean and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 3000
Notes: Dean and Cas and the bedroom, and Dean is very persistent when he wants a miracle. Post-post-4.22. A sequel of sorts to #24 Dedicated to All Human Beings, written yesterday.
“We’ve been going at this for awhile.” Dean clutches at Castiel’s lapels.
“I know.”
“And this is our last night in this hotel room before we hit the road again to who knows where.”
“I know. Apocalypse.”
“Right, Apocalypse. So, I have an idea.”
Cas is used to Dean’s ideas. “What do you want me to do?”
Dean grabs Castiel, hard. “I want you to use this on me. Fuck me with it. See where it goes.”
Castiel breathes raggedly, once, twice.
Dean smirks. “Come on. It’s not so bad.”
“I want to, Dean.” He places a hand on his shoulder.
“Have you seen us do that before?”
“I’ve seen you do that before.”
“Hey. Well. So you have an idea then?”
“An idea, yes. What do you want me to do?”
“Just do your own thing. Do what you want.”
“Yes,” and Castiel kisses him with intent that time.
It’s a long time before he breaks away, his hands traveling anywhere on Dean’s body he can reach.
“Will you take off your clothes?”
Castiel just starts, letting his coat fall where it does, loosening his tie, letting it muss up his hair and collar when he pulls it over his head, unbuttoning his shirt. And then Dean lends a hand, loosens his belt and bares his stomach.
Dean pulls down Cas’ pants and underwear as he drops to his knees. The angel is wearing his undershirt, but his shirt and pants are gathered at his wrists and ankles, perfectly disheveled.
His hardness is so pale and smooth, Dean forgets to ask before he knows the taste on his tongue and how good it feels to have the whole length in his mouth.
“Dean,” Cas kind of jumps back against the mirrored dresser and grabs at the wall, but Dean is close enough to stay with him.
This is dangerous, Dean thinks. It would take a long time before he got tired of doing this, and Cas has never shown a sign of being close to coming.
Just as Dean is convinced that nothing would happen if he did. Just as Cas is convinced that the world would come crumbling down if he did.
And did he want to spend his last days of existence a proverbial virgin? No, he wanted Cas to understand what he was sacrificing for. He wanted to give him that much at least.
So it is a long time before Dean stops what he’s doing and shows Cas some mercy with his mouth.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Yes,” he says. “I mean, no.”
“Which is it?”
“More,” he says as he grabs for Dean’s head.
He sucks hard, and uses the tips of his teeth against the swollen head, little nips as he’s pulling off…
Cas makes a sound loud enough to break the mirrors.
Dean leaves him panting, braced between the dressers and the broken glass, as he removes his own clothes, watching Cas the whole time.
Dean throws off the covers to clear the bed of broken glass and lands with his head on the pillows. He wets two fingers in his mouth, his lips still swollen from Castiel, but he can only penetrate himself to the second joint. He wants Castiel to see his frustration. He wants him to act.
Castiel stares at Dean. He walks across the floor over the broken glass, unflinching. He holds Dean’s hips with one hand and presses his other hand over Dean’s and pushes, forcing Dean to penetrate himself further. He rocks him like that, down to the knuckle.
“Now. Now, Cas,” and Dean’s so turned on he can hardly breathe.
Cas lets him go and Dean pulls out, grabs the headboard and the back of his thigh. Then Castiel’s there, pressing in.
Dean tells Cas how much he wants this the whole time. He never stops soothing, pleading, begging, asking.
Castiel’s head is turned to the side and down away from Dean, but he’s completely inside of him now, pressed in to the hilt, and he stays there, lifting Dean’s hips in the air with his own, and just holds it.
Dean has to fight to breathe. “Ok, babe, I think you got this from here.”
Castiel turns to him and opens his eyes, before he keeps their hips tight, hovers over, stares down, and moves.
Cas uses his body to keep Dean’s curled up tight as he rocks them together. His rhythm is inhuman, constant, relentless. Dean moans when he can get a breath, but he’s too high to really breathe, too high to reach for release.
At Dean’s next moan, Cas leans in. “Is this what you wanted me to feel? Is this what you dream about?” His breath was hot on Dean’s red flushed face.
Then Cas didn’t stop moving for a long time. Dean’s cries grew higher pitched, beyond language and sense.
Cas runs a hand through the human’s hair, over his face, calming him, and Dean grabs his arm and holds it close, wanting to touch part of Castiel that isn’t this machine fucking into him endlessly.
Cas drags Dean’s hands down with his arm and finally touches Dean, wrapping his hand around him in a tight fist. Dean’s grabbing at him everywhere, still trying to catch a breath. But Cas has an endless amount of control.
He’s still squeezing Dean as he begins to move again, hard fast thrusts with no variation, to make it last.
He holds Dean’s hips when he tries to jerk free, when he tries to break the rhythm but can’t.
“Is this too much?”
“Yes,” Dean cries, and Cas stills completely. “I mean, no.”
Cas smoothes down Dean’s hair with the sweat on his brow and doesn’t stop again.
He holds him close and feels the sweat and tears pouring off his face. He begins to stroke Dean, firm and slow, when he feels his own dick begin to throb like a sore thumb in time with Dean’s heartbeat. He shudders with the feeling, the red muscle of his heart like a fragile balloon pumping just inches from him. He looses his grip and relaxes, finally letting Dean breathe.
He may not always give it to him, but Castiel knows what Dean needs.
He flips them over so Dean’s sitting on top of him. Dean’s so languid; Cas has to support his body with his hands, while Dean braces his hands on Cas’ chest, ready. Then Cas’ hand is back where it belongs and Dean rocks his body into it forward and down, forward and back down again. Dean breathes and moves slow.
Cas knows Dean is sore now, he can feel it, but Dean needs it too much to stop.
Cas moves his hand faster with an uneven rhythm, one closer to what Dean needs. “Come, Dean. Now, come for me.”
He can see Dean push himself over the edge, will his body to react by just giving up. He comes all over Castiel’s fist and chest, and Cas feels his pulse like a fire on his hard length, and it’s so sweet, so unexpected and out of control… “Dean,” he gasps, and just watches as Dean finally does collapse over him.
But Castiel doesn’t come.
He spends a few minutes making sure they’re both breathing. Then he waves them clean with his hand, not thinking about the pink on his palest flesh and the sweat drying all over him. Dean is completely limp and draped over him, so unlike Dean, and it makes him want to hug him close and press his teeth and lips to Dean’s shoulder.
“Think you had enough there, kiddo?”
Cas presses his lips together. “Are you alright, Dean?”
“Yeah,” and Dean sounds nothing but confused.
So Cas waits for it.
“You’re not even close to coming, are you?”
“There were moments…”
“Like when?”
“Towards the end, when you were breathing, I could feel the pulse of your blood.”
“Yeah?” And Dean is still a little out of breath.
“When you used your mouth, and…”
“And?”
“When you used your teeth.”
“That would hurt if you did that to me.”
“I know.”
“So when I punched you that one time, your whole body is strong like that?”
“You’ve stabbed me in the heart before.”
“But your dick too? All of it?”
“I’ve never tested it, but it would seem so. It’s not your fault, Dean. It’s for…”
“Dammit Cas, if you say it’s for the best I’ll kick your ass for real this time. And I’ll do it until you feel it.”
“You’re getting angry over things that are out of our hands.”
“Nothing’s out of our hands anymore, alright? Stop saying that to me.”
“You’re being stubborn.”
“Because I’m trying to get you to come during sex. Seriously, Cas. I know you don’t get it now, but you will, trust me.”
“Is this hurting your ego?”
“What?”
“Why else would you care so much? You’re taking it personally that you can’t make me do this, what an angel has never done before.”
“Don’t make it sound like that. It’s kind of the deal of reciprocation. That’s how it works.”
“For your kind, maybe. Angels don’t expect to feel pleasure or pain. Only the peace of returning to paradise to be with the host.”
“Yeah, that sounds great. Much better than this.”
“But you don’t know, do you.”
“Well, I guess you don’t either.” And there are many ways to take that, all of them bad. Dean winces. “Sorry, Cas. I’m just frustrated.”
“I’m not.”
And Dean kind of throws a tantrum at that, throws all the pillows and a lamp before he can stop himself. The room is dark now except for the light coming in through the blinds. And it’s completely trashed, like Dean feels trashed himself, despite the angelic cleaning. This sucked.
“If you call me a howler monkey, I swear to god…”
So Castiel shuts his mouth.
“Dean, can you accept that I’m different from you? That I’m not meant for this?”
“But you are, Cas! That’s my point. God created you angels to love…”
“He created us for war.”
“But what do you do in paradise all day? You sing him songs. You pray and you watch and you praise and that’s all you do? You’re all unto yourselves alone, that’s it?”
Castiel hums in patronizing consideration. “You’re questioning why god doesn’t allow orgies in paradise?”
“Fuck, yes!”
“That’s ridiculous. That’s blasphemous.”
“No, it’s not. It’s what everything else in creation does; just not you guys. Why is that?”
“Our father rewards us in other ways.”
“How??? By doing what? By leaving dicks to boss you around in his name? To start the fucking end of days?”
“Can’t we let this go, Dean?”
“Let go of any stake you might have in us? Leave me to hang out and dry, alone?”
“I want you to stop wanting more from me than I can give. I can’t do this, Dean.”
And Dean had expected him to do it tonight. He had been sure.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m just one, out of multitudes. We don’t stand a chance, especially if I am diminished.”
“How do you know, Cas? If you think that getting off is going to bring everything crashing down -- that you’ll lose your grace, that it matters that much -- why can’t it work the other way too?”
Cas narrows his eyes at Dean.
“Maybe there is a way and you just haven’t found it yet, Cas. No angel’s found it yet. You could be the first one. You said it yourself before - no angel and human have ever been together like this. Not that you know of.”
Cas’ nostrils flare just slightly.
“What if you found a way, with me? A way to make the other angels feel the same way you do about us.”
“So… you want the angels to rape the humans?”
“What? No! Where’d you get that idea?”
“Dean. My kind doesn’t like your kind very much. We know we can overpower you, we just don’t have much reason to deal with you. We don’t want to.”
“But Anna…”
“Anna is considered to be unanimously insane by the Host. As I suppose I am too, now.”
Cas watches as Dean presses his face to the mattress and pounds with his fists for awhile. He tries not to think of howler monkeys. He actually thinks it’s cute, if a bit distressing.
“I don’t regret anything I’ve done for you, Dean. Not even tonight.”
Dean just nods against the mattress.
“Are you tired?”
Cas doesn’t have to ask, really. He can already sense it, and see it in Dean’s red-rimmed eyes when he finally looks at him again.
“Yeah, I am.” He rubs his face with his hand.
“Let’s go to sleep,” he says, perfectly ignoring his hardness still looming between them.
Dean just stares right at it. “You really are crazy, Cas.”
“Shut up, Dean,” and Cas kisses him, running his tongue over Dean’s lips, then his teeth as he starts to open up little by little. Dean bites down on the first bit of tongue he can catch, tries to hold it until Cas pulls it from him. Then again. Again, until he can feel his tongue snap back away from him. Dean imagines it would be painful, but there’s no blood, no complaint. “Again,” Cas says, his breath coming faster.
Dean does. He begins to rake his nails down Castiel’s sides from his armpits to the bottom of his ribcage, doing it harder and harder until he gets a reaction, until he can feel the skin begin to get puffy and raised from the scratches.
Oh fuck it. “M’gonna, use my teeth,” he manages to grind out against Castiel’s cheek before shoving him backwards on the bed.
Dean’s mouth is tired but he uses his teeth, nipping upwards in repetitive strokes over the head, and rakes his nails in the other direction down Castiel’s length. He has to be careful not to chip a tooth when Castiel writhes his hips off the bed and his head falls backwards. “Easy, bucko.”
Make everything harder, he tells himself. Make him feel it. And Dean bites near the base and pulls up fast. He does it again and again.
Now Castiel’s pounding the mattress, calling out in endless pleas, “Dean, please, I can’t, I don’t know how,” and help me help me help me…
And Dean’s trying the best he can to do just that. It’s hard work and he’s exhausted but he can’t let this go. He can’t leave Castiel alone tonight, and he’s afraid of what might happen if he does.
So he remembers something Cas said earlier, and grabs the angel’s hand in his. He places it right under his breastbone and presses it there, confident he can feel his own heartbeat through both of their hands, then drags his front teeth hard up the underside of Castiel’s cock.
He’s rewarded with a breathy yell, so he does it again.
“C’mon, Cas,” he whispers before sucking hard, trying to match the rhythm of his pulse.
He rakes his fingernails across Castiel’s ass this time, from the center out, digging into the most sensitive flesh, back and forth.
And Castiel pulls his body over on top of him, to his face, and presses Dean’s body down with his hand on his heart, presses his tongue as deep as he can into Dean’s hole, until he can feel his body throb around it. Then Castiel rocks with him, slowly side to side.
Dean’s almost out of breath, and his whole mouth aches, and his fingertips are close to going numb; he’s about to give up, but he doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to give up on Cas, so he moans as loud as he can around the angel’s unwavering cock, shaking it with the last of what he’s got, already feeling that hard tongue inside his sore body, pressing him to his limits.
Castiel pulls away from him and freezes all over, and when Dean feels the first salty taste on his tongue, he thinks he’s gonna cry. He swallows, and it’s just about the sweetest tasting stuff he’s ever had. Fucking miracle.
When he finally pulls off, he just has to say thank you over and over again to the skin at Castiel’s thigh. He looks up at him then, but Cas looks lost to the world. “Hey, Cas, you still with me?”
Cas just kind of pets him with his hand, doesn’t even open his eyes, and Dean figures that’s a good sign.
He runs his palms over the raw skin at Castiel’s side and the angel begins to respond with a wave of his hand, but Dean stops him. “You don’t have to. We can stay a little messy tonight.”
But Castiel does it anyway. “Maybe next time, Dean.” He entwines their fingers together. “I’m feeling a little… spent, right now.”
Dean smiles really big in the dark. “You did it.” His angel.
“I think this one’s on you, beloved.”
Beloved. “Beloved? That’s a little much, don’t you think.”
“It’s true.”
Ok, so orgasms make angels kind of loopy too. That figures. “I’m just not that big with pet names.”
“Dean, if anyone ever deserved a pet name, it’s you.”
“Can’t we just be Dean and Cas? Cas and Dean?”
“We can be whatever you want us to be, Dean. That’s fine with me.”
And Dean kind of likes the sound of that, of being right for once, and proving it.
The End
to the optional sequel
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Sam, Dean and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 3000
Notes: Dean and Cas and the bedroom, and Dean is very persistent when he wants a miracle. Post-post-4.22. A sequel of sorts to #24 Dedicated to All Human Beings, written yesterday.
“We’ve been going at this for awhile.” Dean clutches at Castiel’s lapels.
“I know.”
“And this is our last night in this hotel room before we hit the road again to who knows where.”
“I know. Apocalypse.”
“Right, Apocalypse. So, I have an idea.”
Cas is used to Dean’s ideas. “What do you want me to do?”
Dean grabs Castiel, hard. “I want you to use this on me. Fuck me with it. See where it goes.”
Castiel breathes raggedly, once, twice.
Dean smirks. “Come on. It’s not so bad.”
“I want to, Dean.” He places a hand on his shoulder.
“Have you seen us do that before?”
“I’ve seen you do that before.”
“Hey. Well. So you have an idea then?”
“An idea, yes. What do you want me to do?”
“Just do your own thing. Do what you want.”
“Yes,” and Castiel kisses him with intent that time.
It’s a long time before he breaks away, his hands traveling anywhere on Dean’s body he can reach.
“Will you take off your clothes?”
Castiel just starts, letting his coat fall where it does, loosening his tie, letting it muss up his hair and collar when he pulls it over his head, unbuttoning his shirt. And then Dean lends a hand, loosens his belt and bares his stomach.
Dean pulls down Cas’ pants and underwear as he drops to his knees. The angel is wearing his undershirt, but his shirt and pants are gathered at his wrists and ankles, perfectly disheveled.
His hardness is so pale and smooth, Dean forgets to ask before he knows the taste on his tongue and how good it feels to have the whole length in his mouth.
“Dean,” Cas kind of jumps back against the mirrored dresser and grabs at the wall, but Dean is close enough to stay with him.
This is dangerous, Dean thinks. It would take a long time before he got tired of doing this, and Cas has never shown a sign of being close to coming.
Just as Dean is convinced that nothing would happen if he did. Just as Cas is convinced that the world would come crumbling down if he did.
And did he want to spend his last days of existence a proverbial virgin? No, he wanted Cas to understand what he was sacrificing for. He wanted to give him that much at least.
So it is a long time before Dean stops what he’s doing and shows Cas some mercy with his mouth.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Yes,” he says. “I mean, no.”
“Which is it?”
“More,” he says as he grabs for Dean’s head.
He sucks hard, and uses the tips of his teeth against the swollen head, little nips as he’s pulling off…
Cas makes a sound loud enough to break the mirrors.
Dean leaves him panting, braced between the dressers and the broken glass, as he removes his own clothes, watching Cas the whole time.
Dean throws off the covers to clear the bed of broken glass and lands with his head on the pillows. He wets two fingers in his mouth, his lips still swollen from Castiel, but he can only penetrate himself to the second joint. He wants Castiel to see his frustration. He wants him to act.
Castiel stares at Dean. He walks across the floor over the broken glass, unflinching. He holds Dean’s hips with one hand and presses his other hand over Dean’s and pushes, forcing Dean to penetrate himself further. He rocks him like that, down to the knuckle.
“Now. Now, Cas,” and Dean’s so turned on he can hardly breathe.
Cas lets him go and Dean pulls out, grabs the headboard and the back of his thigh. Then Castiel’s there, pressing in.
Dean tells Cas how much he wants this the whole time. He never stops soothing, pleading, begging, asking.
Castiel’s head is turned to the side and down away from Dean, but he’s completely inside of him now, pressed in to the hilt, and he stays there, lifting Dean’s hips in the air with his own, and just holds it.
Dean has to fight to breathe. “Ok, babe, I think you got this from here.”
Castiel turns to him and opens his eyes, before he keeps their hips tight, hovers over, stares down, and moves.
Cas uses his body to keep Dean’s curled up tight as he rocks them together. His rhythm is inhuman, constant, relentless. Dean moans when he can get a breath, but he’s too high to really breathe, too high to reach for release.
At Dean’s next moan, Cas leans in. “Is this what you wanted me to feel? Is this what you dream about?” His breath was hot on Dean’s red flushed face.
Then Cas didn’t stop moving for a long time. Dean’s cries grew higher pitched, beyond language and sense.
Cas runs a hand through the human’s hair, over his face, calming him, and Dean grabs his arm and holds it close, wanting to touch part of Castiel that isn’t this machine fucking into him endlessly.
Cas drags Dean’s hands down with his arm and finally touches Dean, wrapping his hand around him in a tight fist. Dean’s grabbing at him everywhere, still trying to catch a breath. But Cas has an endless amount of control.
He’s still squeezing Dean as he begins to move again, hard fast thrusts with no variation, to make it last.
He holds Dean’s hips when he tries to jerk free, when he tries to break the rhythm but can’t.
“Is this too much?”
“Yes,” Dean cries, and Cas stills completely. “I mean, no.”
Cas smoothes down Dean’s hair with the sweat on his brow and doesn’t stop again.
He holds him close and feels the sweat and tears pouring off his face. He begins to stroke Dean, firm and slow, when he feels his own dick begin to throb like a sore thumb in time with Dean’s heartbeat. He shudders with the feeling, the red muscle of his heart like a fragile balloon pumping just inches from him. He looses his grip and relaxes, finally letting Dean breathe.
He may not always give it to him, but Castiel knows what Dean needs.
He flips them over so Dean’s sitting on top of him. Dean’s so languid; Cas has to support his body with his hands, while Dean braces his hands on Cas’ chest, ready. Then Cas’ hand is back where it belongs and Dean rocks his body into it forward and down, forward and back down again. Dean breathes and moves slow.
Cas knows Dean is sore now, he can feel it, but Dean needs it too much to stop.
Cas moves his hand faster with an uneven rhythm, one closer to what Dean needs. “Come, Dean. Now, come for me.”
He can see Dean push himself over the edge, will his body to react by just giving up. He comes all over Castiel’s fist and chest, and Cas feels his pulse like a fire on his hard length, and it’s so sweet, so unexpected and out of control… “Dean,” he gasps, and just watches as Dean finally does collapse over him.
But Castiel doesn’t come.
He spends a few minutes making sure they’re both breathing. Then he waves them clean with his hand, not thinking about the pink on his palest flesh and the sweat drying all over him. Dean is completely limp and draped over him, so unlike Dean, and it makes him want to hug him close and press his teeth and lips to Dean’s shoulder.
“Think you had enough there, kiddo?”
Cas presses his lips together. “Are you alright, Dean?”
“Yeah,” and Dean sounds nothing but confused.
So Cas waits for it.
“You’re not even close to coming, are you?”
“There were moments…”
“Like when?”
“Towards the end, when you were breathing, I could feel the pulse of your blood.”
“Yeah?” And Dean is still a little out of breath.
“When you used your mouth, and…”
“And?”
“When you used your teeth.”
“That would hurt if you did that to me.”
“I know.”
“So when I punched you that one time, your whole body is strong like that?”
“You’ve stabbed me in the heart before.”
“But your dick too? All of it?”
“I’ve never tested it, but it would seem so. It’s not your fault, Dean. It’s for…”
“Dammit Cas, if you say it’s for the best I’ll kick your ass for real this time. And I’ll do it until you feel it.”
“You’re getting angry over things that are out of our hands.”
“Nothing’s out of our hands anymore, alright? Stop saying that to me.”
“You’re being stubborn.”
“Because I’m trying to get you to come during sex. Seriously, Cas. I know you don’t get it now, but you will, trust me.”
“Is this hurting your ego?”
“What?”
“Why else would you care so much? You’re taking it personally that you can’t make me do this, what an angel has never done before.”
“Don’t make it sound like that. It’s kind of the deal of reciprocation. That’s how it works.”
“For your kind, maybe. Angels don’t expect to feel pleasure or pain. Only the peace of returning to paradise to be with the host.”
“Yeah, that sounds great. Much better than this.”
“But you don’t know, do you.”
“Well, I guess you don’t either.” And there are many ways to take that, all of them bad. Dean winces. “Sorry, Cas. I’m just frustrated.”
“I’m not.”
And Dean kind of throws a tantrum at that, throws all the pillows and a lamp before he can stop himself. The room is dark now except for the light coming in through the blinds. And it’s completely trashed, like Dean feels trashed himself, despite the angelic cleaning. This sucked.
“If you call me a howler monkey, I swear to god…”
So Castiel shuts his mouth.
“Dean, can you accept that I’m different from you? That I’m not meant for this?”
“But you are, Cas! That’s my point. God created you angels to love…”
“He created us for war.”
“But what do you do in paradise all day? You sing him songs. You pray and you watch and you praise and that’s all you do? You’re all unto yourselves alone, that’s it?”
Castiel hums in patronizing consideration. “You’re questioning why god doesn’t allow orgies in paradise?”
“Fuck, yes!”
“That’s ridiculous. That’s blasphemous.”
“No, it’s not. It’s what everything else in creation does; just not you guys. Why is that?”
“Our father rewards us in other ways.”
“How??? By doing what? By leaving dicks to boss you around in his name? To start the fucking end of days?”
“Can’t we let this go, Dean?”
“Let go of any stake you might have in us? Leave me to hang out and dry, alone?”
“I want you to stop wanting more from me than I can give. I can’t do this, Dean.”
And Dean had expected him to do it tonight. He had been sure.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m just one, out of multitudes. We don’t stand a chance, especially if I am diminished.”
“How do you know, Cas? If you think that getting off is going to bring everything crashing down -- that you’ll lose your grace, that it matters that much -- why can’t it work the other way too?”
Cas narrows his eyes at Dean.
“Maybe there is a way and you just haven’t found it yet, Cas. No angel’s found it yet. You could be the first one. You said it yourself before - no angel and human have ever been together like this. Not that you know of.”
Cas’ nostrils flare just slightly.
“What if you found a way, with me? A way to make the other angels feel the same way you do about us.”
“So… you want the angels to rape the humans?”
“What? No! Where’d you get that idea?”
“Dean. My kind doesn’t like your kind very much. We know we can overpower you, we just don’t have much reason to deal with you. We don’t want to.”
“But Anna…”
“Anna is considered to be unanimously insane by the Host. As I suppose I am too, now.”
Cas watches as Dean presses his face to the mattress and pounds with his fists for awhile. He tries not to think of howler monkeys. He actually thinks it’s cute, if a bit distressing.
“I don’t regret anything I’ve done for you, Dean. Not even tonight.”
Dean just nods against the mattress.
“Are you tired?”
Cas doesn’t have to ask, really. He can already sense it, and see it in Dean’s red-rimmed eyes when he finally looks at him again.
“Yeah, I am.” He rubs his face with his hand.
“Let’s go to sleep,” he says, perfectly ignoring his hardness still looming between them.
Dean just stares right at it. “You really are crazy, Cas.”
“Shut up, Dean,” and Cas kisses him, running his tongue over Dean’s lips, then his teeth as he starts to open up little by little. Dean bites down on the first bit of tongue he can catch, tries to hold it until Cas pulls it from him. Then again. Again, until he can feel his tongue snap back away from him. Dean imagines it would be painful, but there’s no blood, no complaint. “Again,” Cas says, his breath coming faster.
Dean does. He begins to rake his nails down Castiel’s sides from his armpits to the bottom of his ribcage, doing it harder and harder until he gets a reaction, until he can feel the skin begin to get puffy and raised from the scratches.
Oh fuck it. “M’gonna, use my teeth,” he manages to grind out against Castiel’s cheek before shoving him backwards on the bed.
Dean’s mouth is tired but he uses his teeth, nipping upwards in repetitive strokes over the head, and rakes his nails in the other direction down Castiel’s length. He has to be careful not to chip a tooth when Castiel writhes his hips off the bed and his head falls backwards. “Easy, bucko.”
Make everything harder, he tells himself. Make him feel it. And Dean bites near the base and pulls up fast. He does it again and again.
Now Castiel’s pounding the mattress, calling out in endless pleas, “Dean, please, I can’t, I don’t know how,” and help me help me help me…
And Dean’s trying the best he can to do just that. It’s hard work and he’s exhausted but he can’t let this go. He can’t leave Castiel alone tonight, and he’s afraid of what might happen if he does.
So he remembers something Cas said earlier, and grabs the angel’s hand in his. He places it right under his breastbone and presses it there, confident he can feel his own heartbeat through both of their hands, then drags his front teeth hard up the underside of Castiel’s cock.
He’s rewarded with a breathy yell, so he does it again.
“C’mon, Cas,” he whispers before sucking hard, trying to match the rhythm of his pulse.
He rakes his fingernails across Castiel’s ass this time, from the center out, digging into the most sensitive flesh, back and forth.
And Castiel pulls his body over on top of him, to his face, and presses Dean’s body down with his hand on his heart, presses his tongue as deep as he can into Dean’s hole, until he can feel his body throb around it. Then Castiel rocks with him, slowly side to side.
Dean’s almost out of breath, and his whole mouth aches, and his fingertips are close to going numb; he’s about to give up, but he doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to give up on Cas, so he moans as loud as he can around the angel’s unwavering cock, shaking it with the last of what he’s got, already feeling that hard tongue inside his sore body, pressing him to his limits.
Castiel pulls away from him and freezes all over, and when Dean feels the first salty taste on his tongue, he thinks he’s gonna cry. He swallows, and it’s just about the sweetest tasting stuff he’s ever had. Fucking miracle.
When he finally pulls off, he just has to say thank you over and over again to the skin at Castiel’s thigh. He looks up at him then, but Cas looks lost to the world. “Hey, Cas, you still with me?”
Cas just kind of pets him with his hand, doesn’t even open his eyes, and Dean figures that’s a good sign.
He runs his palms over the raw skin at Castiel’s side and the angel begins to respond with a wave of his hand, but Dean stops him. “You don’t have to. We can stay a little messy tonight.”
But Castiel does it anyway. “Maybe next time, Dean.” He entwines their fingers together. “I’m feeling a little… spent, right now.”
Dean smiles really big in the dark. “You did it.” His angel.
“I think this one’s on you, beloved.”
Beloved. “Beloved? That’s a little much, don’t you think.”
“It’s true.”
Ok, so orgasms make angels kind of loopy too. That figures. “I’m just not that big with pet names.”
“Dean, if anyone ever deserved a pet name, it’s you.”
“Can’t we just be Dean and Cas? Cas and Dean?”
“We can be whatever you want us to be, Dean. That’s fine with me.”
And Dean kind of likes the sound of that, of being right for once, and proving it.
The End
to the optional sequel