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The first time Cas calls Dean holy he laughs it off. Him? Holy? Nah. The blood on his hands stained them the darkest shade of red imaginable. His soul is tinted with darkness. His mistakes cost the world thousands of lives, what part of that is good? What part is holy? So he laughs and finishes off his beer as Cas watches him with confusion.
The second time he is far too busy to care. Cas’s fingers taste like sweat and blood but Dean could care less. He almost misses the word as it spills from Cas’s lips in a soft moan, but he never stops to correct him. Instead, he closes his eyes and runs his tongue across the fallen angel's knuckles. If you asked 17-year-old Dean if he would ever be on his knees for an angel he would have shot you, but Cas has a way of making Dean surprise himself. Dean chalks it up to the magic of Cas. To Dean, Cas is one of the few things Chuck did right. To Dean, Cas is the truest example of god's grace. Even caked in sweat, screaming Dean’s name Cas is still the purest thing his hands have ever touched. Nothing in his life has ever felt so filthy and so right than when he pulls on Cas's soft feathers and works the angel’s fingers into himself. No book could ever prepare Dean for the way Cas’s hands grip his hips or the feather-light touches he traces up Dean’s side. He confesses to Dean how long he has looked for something to believe in, something to worship, so Dean puts him on his knees. When Cas sinks to the floor and moans like he can't help himself Dean wonders if the other Angels fell with as much grace and beauty as his. When Cas is between his legs, he thanks every cosmic deity, good and bad, that brought Cas to him. As Dean drowns his angel in sinful pleasure Cas thanks him; he begs him for more. Dean positions himself over Cas and wonders if he’s damning himself by doing this. Those thoughts are purged when he lowers himself till he sits flush against Cas’s hips. For a moment he sits there admiring how his body sits against Cas's. They fit perfectly, they fit like they were made for each other. On top of Cas, Dean feels holy, like an angel only Cas remembers. He sacrifices his skin and Dean takes it. Who knew sacrifice was so profane? Cas flips them and pounds into him while spilling praises and confessions of love. Cas worships Dean as he ruins him, and Dean can only remember one word; Castiel