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Curled up on the bed like this, his head pillowed in Cas’ lap, Cas’ fingers tracing lazy circles on his shoulder, Dean can almost relax. The television is droning mindlessly in the background; he knows Cas is paying rapt attention to the movie that’s playing. Cas has never seen it before. Cas has never seen most movies before. It’s Hocus Pocus, which is just wrong because it’s not even close to Halloween so he can’t begin to imagine why it’s on TV right now, but that’s what Cas landed on after thirteen or fourteen circuits through the meagre range of channels the motel TV offered. It bears no resemblance at all to the witches Dean has had the supreme displeasure of meeting. It’s a stupid movie. But Cas seems to be enjoying it, so Dean just closes his eyes and drifts.
Dean is essentially naked, save for the boxer shorts he tugged on in an imitation of modesty. Cas had laughed at him, soft and teasing, but he’d followed suit, brushing a messy lock of dark hair out of his face and pulling his shorts back on and stealing one of Dean’s tee-shirts. Dean was going to have to talk to him about that later. It’s one of Dean’s favourites. He’d better give it back.
Cas’ hand moves gracefully through the short strands of Dean’s hair before settling on the back of his neck. Yes, Dean is comfortable. So comfortable he could almost fall asleep. He shifts, preening under the attention, and Cas sighs. They could stay like this all night and Dean wouldn’t complain for a second. Except there’s a reason they’re lazily sprawled out on the bed, and there’s a reason Dean has barely moved in the past hour and a half.
He’s done a very good job of ignoring it. Cas promised if he was good, if he kept his cool long enough for Cas to watch this movie he’d somehow decided was just so important, Dean would be rewarded. So he lies as still as he can possibly manage, and lets Cas stroke his hair, and hovers on the edge of sleep. Dean always feels sleepy after sex, the leaden heaviness weighing his limbs down until even the shrill cackling on screen barely makes an impact.
“Comfortable?” Cas asks, his voice coy. His eyes don’t leave the screen but his hand ghosts down Dean’s side and settles just above his waist. Dean supresses a shudder and immediately regrets it. A small groan escapes his lips and Cas laughs again, louder this time, smug. “Get up here,” he croons. It’s exactly what Dean’s been waiting to hear.
He climbs in to Cas’ lap, his movements slow and graceful and careful, each limb placed with cautious precision. It’s all for naught. The second he settles Cas’ hands slide down his hip, cupping the perfect curve of each ass cheek before sliding a single finger in between and tapping on the base of the small black plug that’s nestled there. That’s the thing Dean’s been trying to ignore, and as soon as Cas touches it, shifts it inside him, Dean lets out a deep throaty moan and his eyes flutter shut in distracted pleasure.
“You’ve been so good,” remarks Cas, pushing and twisting the plug as a cruel reminder of what Dean’s been enduring, what being good has entailed. “So quiet, so calm. You did exactly what I asked of you.” Cas’ words shouldn’t have this much of an effect on him, but Dean can’t help but preen. Cas is this remarkable celestial being, older than stars, more powerful than Dean can fathom, and he spends his breath praising the inactions of a broken man. It’s almost more than Dean can bear. He melts under the touch; the plug ghosting against that sweet spot deep inside, not enough to get him off but plenty to make him putty in Cas’ hands, make him writhe and squirm as Cas toys with him.
Cas toying around is exactly what got them here. It had to be Cas that escalated things. It always was. Of course. Dean wasn’t even surprised when Cas suggested it, not really. His filthy little angel had yet to learn about anything he and Dean could do together in the bedroom (or elsewhere for that matter) that he wasn’t interested in trying at least once. It was only a matter of time before toys became part of the equation. It really was a tiny thing, Dean reasoned, so much smaller than the ones he’d seen used in porn. It shouldn’t be a problem, he’d told himself. Oh man was he wrong.
Cas was voracious after Dean accepted the addition to their play, working him open first with his tongue, then with slick fingers. And Cas fucked him hard and fast, the rough, desperate kind of fuck Dean loved but would rarely admit to. Cas pressed bruises into Dean’s hips with the tight grip of his fingers, driving into Dean with such force that it was all he could do to keep himself upright on hands and knees. Cas came hard and fast, fucking Dean through the aftershocks before pulling out and replacing his cock with the plug, sliding it into Dean’s fucked-out hole with remarkable tenderness for someone who had just ridden that same ass so hard. And then he turned the TV on and settled on his stupid movie, leaving Dean to gasp for breath until he could collect himself enough to pull on some clothes.
“Behave yourself,” Cas told him, “And you’ll get what you want.” And now here they are, and Dean has been so, so good if Cas is to be believed, and he’s going to get exactly what he wants.
Dean’s cock swells where it’s trapped between his body and Cas’. He longs to reach down and take himself in hand, lavish some attention on himself where he’s been neglected for hours. It seems like longer. But Cas is in one of those commanding moods tonight, and Dean knows better than to do anything he hasn’t been told to when Cas is like this. Cas has a plan, and if Dean tries to deviate, maybe he doesn’t get to come. Dean knows better. Still, he’s hard and starved for the attention, so he rocks his hips, pressing his swollen cock firmly against the solid mass of Cas’ body, and hopes the friction is enough to tide him over until Cas is done teasing.
It’s not going to be that easy. Cas has been fond of teasing Dean since he first learned the delicious noises he can coax out of the hunter with a well-placed finger or tongue, or in this case, toy, and he rarely passes up an opportunity to wreck Dean with his attentions. So while all Dean wants is to skip the foreplay and move right on to the part where Cas fucks him senseless, it’s not what Cas gives him. Instead, Cas moves his hand away from the plug and grips Dean’s ass roughly, and leans forward just enough to draw Dean down into a hot and dirty kiss.
“You want it bad, don’t you?” Cas taunts as he breaks the kiss to mouth at the hard line of Dean’s jaw. There’s already a bright flush to his skin, stark contrast to the freckles that pepper his skin. “You’ve been so patient, but you don’t want to be patient anymore, do you?” Dean knows that tone, the melodic sing-song that Cas uses when he’s egging Dean on. He’s certainly not going to make this easy on Dean. That’s a damn fact.
Dean nods, bottom lip pulled in between his teeth and eyes shut as Cas’ hands run up the hard lines of his back. He grabs as much of Dean’s hair as he can get a hold on and pulls his head back roughly, exposing the lines of Dean’s throat, which he quickly claims with teeth and tongue and lips. Dean’s going to bear marks in the morning. He welcomes them, a reminder that he belongs to Cas, body and soul.
“Answer me,” Cas demands, sounding almost petulant even through the gruff, commanding tone. “Do you want it?” He pulls back firmly on Dean’s hair as he speaks, and Dean can’t keep back the gasp it elicits.
“Yes,” he replies, and it comes out breathier, needier than he planned on, but Cas just laughs into the crook of his neck and sucks another purple mark into the skin he’s lavishing attention on.
“Yes, what? What do you want?” Cas inquires. He’s persistent when he wants to be.
“Yes, Cas, I want you. I want your cock,” Dean breathes, flushing deeper. He’s still somehow capable of being shy about the words, though he’s in no way shy about taking Cas’ dick in the ass. He’ll moan and writhe and push himself back on Cas’ cock, fuck himself almost as hard as Cas can if Cas just stays still and lets him, but he can’t say the words without blushing a deep red and dropping his eyes to the floor. Cas doesn’t understand it, but he knows he wants to break Dean of the habit. So he makes him say it out loud as much as he thinks he can get away with.
Satisfied with the answer, Cas guides Dean off his lap. He lays Dean out on the bed, running reverent hands over his chest and stomach before gripping the waistband of his shorts and tugging them gently downward to free Dean’s cock, now fully hard and leaking as it bobs free. Cas allows him a brief moment to take in the delicious sight of Dean laid out before him, naked and flushed and hungry, before shucking his tee-shirt and descending to take Dean’s cock in his mouth.
The wet heat of Cas’ tongue licking filthy stripes up and down his length is almost too much for Dean to handle after having his cock ignored all night. It feels amazing, the way Cas knows exactly how to touch him, and he forgets about desperation and need for a while as his entire focus is taken up by the way Cas curls his tongue around the head of Dean’s cock, lapping at precome. Then Cas reaches back, nudges the plug again, and Dean’s entire body tenses, twitches with the fireworks it sets off deep inside him.
“I could listen to you make those sounds all night,” Cas murmurs, pulling off to press soft kisses to Dean’s inner thighs as he strokes the slick length with the hand that’s not gripping the base of the plug. “You have no idea how amazing you are.” Cas moves away to shed his own shorts, returning quickly to take Dean’s entire length in his mouth until his nose is almost touching Dean’s belly. He bobs and sucks, teasing with his tongue and drawing a litany of incomprehensible noises from Dean as he works magic with his mouth. And it’s so good, the way Cas’ entire being is focused on making Dean come apart at the seams. It’s the only time Dean really lets go, and Dean knows it, and Cas knows it too. So he drags it out, breaking Dean down with his mouth and his hands and the little black toy that’s nestled in between Dean’s cheeks, keeping him open and ready for when Cas finally decides he’s ready for cock.
There’s a brief moment where Dean is so close that he thinks he’s going to come before Cas even gets down to it, and he squirms and groans futilely. All it accomplishes is to grind the plug against his prostate and punch a moan out from low in his gut, one that reverberates through the room. Cas doesn’t let up, not for a second, not until Dean’s moaning breaks down into feeble whining and wordless noises.
He pulls off, Dean’s cock glistening with saliva and precome, and presses wet, messy kisses to Dean’s inner thighs as he grinds and twists the plug, watching with delight as Dean arches off the bed with the sheer agony of the tease.
“Still want it?” Cas taunts, stilling his hand and meeting Dean’s eyes with a look that’s all sin and ill intent.
“Fuck, Cas!” Dean chokes the words out, breathless and sweating, his chest rising and falling erratically. “Quit teasing and get in me already!” He’s surprised he can muster even that much command in his voice. Cas has him hanging by a thread. He’s surprised he can form words at all. Cas just laughs low in his throat and pulls the plug out.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says as he lines his cock up, sliding in with one smooth motion. The plug has kept Dean open but not loose, and though he’s slick with lube and Cas’ come it’s still a tight fit. Cas grunts as he bottoms out. He hooks his elbows under Dean’s knees, lifts them up to give him a better angle and draws back to start driving in to Dean with long, slow strokes.
Dean draws a shaky breath and rocks his hips up to meet Cas’. They move together in a practiced unison, Dean’s knees locking around Cas’ waist, Cas falling forward onto his hands, thrusting into the slick heat of Dean’s body with a rhythm as steady as a metronome. They’re pressed together as close as two bodies can be. Dean, like always, can’t get enough of Cas once he gets a taste. He grips at Cas’ shoulders, pawing at the hard muscle beneath slick skin, pulling him closer, closer, and Cas obliges. The kiss is fierce and hungry, driven the need Dean’s been cultivating all evening. It’s been simmering below the surface, tucked away as Dean tried to be good, tried to be still, but now that he’s got permission to act on it there’s not a force in the world that can keep it tucked away. He kisses with fervor. He kisses with hunger. He kisses with a desire that leaves Cas feeling like he’s the one being held down and taken apart.
Cas drops his head down to mouth at the sweaty skin of Dean’s collar bone, leaving the other man slack-jawed and panting in awe at the way Cas can overwhelm every nerve of his body. It shouldn’t surprise him anymore but it does, it always does. Cas’s reverence, his affection, his desire always catch Dean off guard and leave him staggered. He drinks it in though, greedy for the way Cas spends every trace of energy at his disposal making Dean feel things he never thought someone could make him feel.
The force of Dean’s orgasm catches him off guard, too. One minute he’s pressing bruises into Cas’ shoulders, head thrown back against the pillow to allow Cas to worry the skin of his throat, mark it up with lips and teeth and tongue, and the next he’s coming in hot stripes on Cas’ stomach and his own, crying out with a wordless shout. And Cas loves the sound of it just like he loves all the sounds Dean makes when they’re together. He loves the way Dean lets go when he comes. He loves to watch Dean’s eyes slide closed as the pure bliss spreads across his face.
Cas watches with unbroken attentiveness, still fucking into Dean as he rides out his climax. Cas is close, too, he can feel it looming, but he can’t take his eyes off of Dean’s face to focus on it, not yet. He kisses his lips and his cheeks and his forehead, never slowing as Dean clings to him, his shout fading to a keening moan. He rides Dean until he’s a quivering mess, murmuring praise into the heat of his sweat-slick skin, thrusting long and deep until he can’t hold it in any longer. Cas is almost silent when he comes this time. His hips stutter and his breath catches, and any sounds he might have made are swallowed up by Dean’s hungry mouth, kissing away anything Cas might have wanted to say.
Cas’ hips roll down a few more times as Dean’s legs unlock from around his waist and his arms slide languidly down Cas’ arms. There’s a breathless moment where Dean could be forgiven for thinking Cas is ready to fall down beside him and slide off to sleep, but he catches himself, eyes flitting open as he recovers his sense of purpose. He kisses Dean once more, deeply and passionately, and Dean is startled when he pulls away suddenly. He only has a moment to regret the loss of fullness he feels when Cas slips out, because he replaces it immediately with the same little black plug that started the whole evening. Dean gasps at the feel of it, and Cas laughs softly through his exhaustion.
“I might want you again later,” he says, kissing Dean softly.
It’s going to be a long night.