Archive of Our Own

“Honestly, Dean, could you just–for once–not touch things? It’d be nice to finish a case and not immediately have another one to solve with our health and safety at stake.” Sam shoves the Bunker door open aggressively, stomping down the spiral stairs in a huff.

“In my defense, it was a tiny golden dick and it was funny. How was I not supposed to pick it up?” Dean retorts, close on his brother’s heels.

Sam spins around and glares at him. “It was a witches’ den. Why would you think anything in there was okay to handle?”

Dean gives him a look that clearly says the answer should be obvious. “Uh, tiny golden dick?”

Rolling his eyes, Sam spins back around and continues down the steps. “Yeah, a tiny golden dick with a sex curse on it.”

Dean shrugs, stepping off the staircase and dropping his duffel on the map table with a smirk. “Yeah, well, I’m still not seeing how instant orgasms are a curse. Sounds kinda awesome.”

Snorting, Sam turns to him with a disbelieving look. “Yeah, awesome. Awesome till you realize you’d pretty much never have sex again, because you’d be done before you even got started. Not to mention, it could happen anytime, anywhere.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean replies. “I can control myself, Sammy. I’m not some horndog teenager.”

Sam smirks at him, the smile twisted a little maniacally. “It’s not just when you get a boner, Dean. It’s any time you experience arousal, even the slightest hint.”

Dean stares at Sam, a small but unpleasant drop of understanding sliding down into his gut.

Sam continues, undeterred. “It was created by a jealous, vengeful witch to publicly shame a cheating ex-lover. So yeah, no staying power, embarrassing public orgasms, inability to hide reactions to things you’d probably rather no one know about… it’s petty, but certainly a bit poetic.”

Boggling at his brother, Dean asks, “How do you even know any of that?”

With a sigh, Sam runs his hands through his hair. “Because I read, Dean. There was a ledger and scrolls next to the cursed items. You’re just lucky the last owner was an organized collector, or you’d probably end up at the doctor’s for erectile dysfunction before we even realized you were cursed.”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

“What, you think you can just… willpower your way out of the curse? I don’t think that’s gonna work, Dean.” Sam shakes his head.

“Yeah, well, watch me, Sammy.”

Dean heads for the kitchen and returns a few minutes later with beers. Sam has set himself up at one of the library tables, laptop powered on and books opened around him, clearly already immersed in research.

Handing an opened bottle to Sam before sinking into a chair opposite his brother, Dean takes a long drink and swallows, sighing.

He’s just about to make the obligatory offer of assistance, even though he’d rather chew his arm off than do more research after just getting home from a case, when the Bunker door opens, its squeal announcing a new arrival.

“You’re back.” Cas’s rich baritone precedes him into the library, and Dean barely recognizes the warmth pooling inside him before he realizes what is about to happen.

Oh. Oh no.

Frantically searching for a non-existent escape route from his impending humiliation and seeing no other options, Dean drops his head to his arm, burying his face in his elbow while biting his lip, barely stifling a whimper.

Cas is beside him immediately, voice practically rumbling in his ear. “Dean, are you okay?”

Dean nods jerkily, his flushed face pressed tight against his shirtsleeve, mouth open in a silent gasp as he feels his cock kick in his jeans, unleashing a too-long-pent-up load that soaks through his boxers.

Sam blanches with realization, pushing back from the table. “Did you just—? From what?!” His eyes dart around, landing on Cas. “Oh, Jesus Christ, Dean. Yeah—ugh—sorry, I’m out. I’ll keep researching this but from somewhere else. In the meantime, maybe you two should steer clear of each other.”

His declaration is followed by the sound of a chair scraping across the floor and a shuffling of papers as Sam gathers his things and beats a hasty retreat.

There’s a moment of silence, Dean still breathing open-mouthed against his flannel while trying to calm his racing heart, and then Cas speaks.

“Dean, what is Sam talking about?”

This is literally the last thing he wants to explain to Cas, especially since Dean is doing his best to ignore the fact that the angel is the reason he’s sitting here in the library with his boxers full of jizz.

Lifting his head off his arm just enough to be heard, Dean asks, “Sam called you from the road, right? Did he tell you what’s going on?”

Dean sees Cas nodding peripherally. “He mentioned you touched a cursed object, but that’s all.”

Fuck. Of course.

“Okay, so, uh. He can give you the details then. I’m just gonna, um. Sit here for a bit. You go talk to him, okay?” He rests his head on his arm again, over-warm and completely overwhelmed.

“Dean, are you sure you’re okay?” The worry in Cas’s voice is palpable and in any other moment, Dean would be doing his best to be reassuring, but right now he’s just wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

Nodding into the crook of his elbow, Dean replies with a muffled, “Yep, peachy.”

Since Dean’s face is still hidden in his arm, he doesn’t realize Cas has stepped closer till he feels a hand on his shoulder, the warmth of Cas’s palm searing through Dean’s shirts. His whole body locks up again, jerking both at the unexpected touch and the resultant pulsing of his dick. The sensation of going from fully soft to suddenly orgasming is just as fucking bizarre the second time around and Dean gasps, body thrumming with the warring sensations of pleasure and mortification.

“Cas—don’t! Don’t touch me right now, okay? Just… just go talk to Sam, please. He can explain. I just gotta—I need a minute, alright?”

He can feel Cas hovering, so Dean forces himself to look up, face burning. Cas is staring back at him, his hand still hanging between them in mid-air, pulled back as though singed and clearly startled by Dean’s reaction.

“Okay,” Cas says slowly. “I’ll be back after I talk to Sam.”

Dean manages to nod and watches him leave. As soon as Cas is around the corner and out of sight, Dean jumps up and heads for the bathroom, grimacing at the feeling of wet fabric stuck to his crotch.

*

Dean’s shivering and thirsty when he finally makes it back to his room, dirty clothes tucked under his arm and towel tied around his waist. What started as a warm shower to rinse off the hunt and the stickiness of his embarrassment quickly turned into an ice bath, as Dean shook his way through two more unexpected orgasms, both times his mind wandering back to the effect Cas had on him despite trying to forcibly stay focused on anything else.

He’s definitely getting why this is a curse, and not anywhere near as funny as he first imagined.

Leaning up against the inside of his bedroom door, teeth chattering, Dean can’t help but feel annoyed with himself. Because he couldn’t just leave that stupid witch’s house without touching something, could he? Nope. ‘Course not. It wasn’t even like he forgot to be careful, just—the little dick trinket was funny and he kinda wanted it. Civilians collect beach glass and bottle caps, can’t Dean have a stupid souvenir, too?

Letting his head fall back with a thump, he takes a slow breath. Frustration isn’t helping, but it’s all he can focus on, because if he doesn’t, he’ll think about…

“Fuck…” Dean mutters softly, body curving inwards as he feels his dick twitch feebly, overstimulated and rubbing against the towel uncomfortably.

His phone buzzes from somewhere in the lump of clothes he dropped just now, and after wiping off the dribble of cum that dripped onto his thigh, Dean locates the device.

It’s Sam.

>> Figured this was the least awkward way to talk to you for now.
>> How are you doing?

Shaking his head, Dean punches in a response and fires back a question of his own.

<< Fucking fantastic.
<< How’s research?

He tosses the phone on his bed and strips off his towel, hanging it over his chair and turning to his dresser for some clean clothes.

His phone pings with another message.

>> Slow. Cas is helping me. I filled him in on most of it, but just… yeah. You might wanna talk to him when this is all over.

No, Dean absolutely does not want to talk to Cas about all of this. He’d rather throw his body into the Mariana Trench than do that, what the hell, Sam?

Pulling on a pair of boxers and a tee shirt, Dean dumps his now-crusty dirty clothing in the laundry basket next to his desk. Shaking his head, he sends a response.

<< Yeah, not gonna happen.

Dean flops onto his bed, groaning into the pillow. He grabs his phone again and taps out another message to Sam.

<< Bring me some water or beer or something?
<< Getting kinda dehydrated in here.

The phone dings again with Sam’s response and Dean snorts despite it all.

>> Gross, man.

*

A couple of hours pass before Dean hears from Sam again, though a plate of sandwiches and some bottled waters show up outside his door about a half hour after their text conversation.

Dean has been keeping himself distracted by working his way mentally through John’s journal, picking a monster and reciting from memory the creature lore and how to kill it. He’s on lamias when his phone rings.

He snatches it up from his nightstand.

“You find a cure?”

“I read through the scrolls and journals our witch kept, and there’s a surprising amount of information on this thing, considering it’s a few centuries old.” Sam answers, sounding too enthusiastic considering the current situation and Dean is immediately suspicious.

“It’s great that you’re getting your nerd on Sam, I’m really happy for you, but do you know how to break the curse or not?” Dean fires back sarcastically.

Sam sighs through the phone, his breath staticky on the line, and Dean’s stomach tightens anxiously in response.

“Yeah, but you’re not gonna like it. Or, who knows, maybe you will…” Sam trails off, not speaking for a moment.

Dean sighs. “Are you gonna tell me or do I have to guess?”

Sam clears his throat. “Okay, so, we know the witch was jilted by her lover, so she designed the curse to punish and humiliate him. But what I also found in the texts was that she was still in love with him, and she knew he was still in love with her, as well.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Oo-kay. And?”

“And, above all, she wanted him back. So basically, she wanted him to endure all of that as a lesson to not mess with her, and then to return to her bed and hers alone.”

“Sounds kinda manipulative.” Dean replies.

“Yeah well, I’m guessing people cursing their cheating ex-lovers to teach them a lesson don’t have a lot of healthy coping mechanisms.”

Dean nods. “Okay, so returning to her bed broke the curse?”

“Yep. Simply put, the lover had to provide her with sexual satisfaction to end his punishment. For anyone else afflicted, it seems like they just have to perform a sexual act on the person they're in love with, without expectation of reciprocation, and that should break the curse.”

Dean lets out a pained-sounding laugh. “Well, that sounds like a problem, Sam, because I’m not in love with anyone.”

There’s a beat of silence and Dean can feel his heart wedging itself securely in his throat.

“Aren’t you, though?” Sam asks quietly.

Dean pulls the phone away from his face, staring at it in disbelief. Letting out a slow breath, he puts it back to his ear. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah, Cas is in the library.”

Dean nods, somewhat relieved. “What have you told him?”

“Just that in order to break the curse, you have to do something sexual for someone else, as penance to mimic the original curse victim.”

Sitting down on the bed, Dean rubs his eyes. “And that’s it?”

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Good, okay… so what other options do we have?”

Sam makes a surprised noise. “Uh, none? Dean, part of the text talks about how this object only affects people who are denying their affection to the person they’re in love with, so this is happening to you for a reason.”

It’s not like Dean didn’t think Sam knew, his brother isn’t dumb. But it’s very much a topic that lives in the box of Things We Don’t Talk About, and Dean’s a bit shocked that Sam is addressing his feelings so directly.

“Yeah, well, that’s too bad, Sam. I’d rather die of this stupid curse than force myself on my best fucking friend just to survive. I don’t care if he’s ‘willing’, it’s fucking gross and come on, you think we’d ever be normal again after that? Because we won’t.” Dean practically growls.

“Look, Dean, I hate that this is forcing your hand, but neither Cas nor I are going to just watch you die when there’s a solution.” Dean can hear the look on Sam’s face, not needing to see him to know he’s pulling the exasperated younger brother card.

“Not gonna happen, Sam. Figure something else out.”

Dean ends the call and drops the phone on the mattress, pressing his palms to his face and trying not to scream.

Why can nothing be fucking simple??

*

Evening finds Dean still sequestered in his room, resolutely ignoring his phone. He’s sitting pantsless on his bed with a towel draped over his lap, a half-empty box of tissues on one side of him, a handful of used ones crumpled on the other.

Not thinking about it hasn’t worked since he got off the phone with Sam. Anger and humiliation staved it off for a while, but once he calmed down, all Dean’s been able to think about is what it would be like to perform for Cas, to service him like the curse demands, what Cas would look like coming apart under Dean’s touch and, fuck—

Dean shudders, wincing as he comes again, dry as the last few orgasms have been. Hot as the idea of kneeling down for Cas is, he’d probably die of dehydration in the process, because getting his hands on the angel at this point would likely result in Dean’s brain leaking out of his goddamned dick.

He’s wiping himself off as someone knocks on the door.

Assuming it’s Sam, he ignores it.

The knock sounds again, and then a voice.

“Dean?” Of course it’s Cas. Sam wouldn’t play fair, not when Dean’s life is in the balance.

Dean groans to himself, looking around. “Uhh, not really a good time, Cas. Sorry.”

They’re silent for a minute and just when Dean thinks Cas has walked away, he speaks again.

“Dean. We should talk.”

Pressing a fist to his forehead, Dean shakes his head, biting back a litany of shitty, knee-jerk reactions.

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about, Cas.”

“Dean.” Cas’s voice drops to a growl, and Dean gulps, trying to breathe through it. “You’re being ridiculous. Sam explained what needs to happen to break the curse and Dean—it’s fine. We’ve weathered stranger and more difficult things together.”

Dean barks a laugh. “Not sure about that, Cas. This is uh… this is pretty far beyond anything we’ve done for each other.”

“It’s a better alternative than you just giving up and dying, Dean!”

He doesn’t respond. What’s there to say? Sam told him in no uncertain terms the only way out of this was through, and through amounts to him sexually satisfying Cas. And it sounds like Cas is aware of that now, though presumably Sam didn’t give Dean up completely. Just based on the fact that Cas is here talking to him and not flapping off to the Himalayas or Mars or something, it seems likely he’s still in the dark on the feelings part of it all.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, man. I’m here. I just… I can’t.” Dean knows Cas is as stubborn as him or Sam, and he’s not going to leave Dean alone till he gets through to him, but Dean’ll be damned if he gives into this garbage plan without a fight.

The door shifts as though Cas is leaning on it, and his voice is softer when he speaks next.

“Could I… would it be alright if I came in? I’d rather continue this conversation face to face.”

Dean clutches at the towel till he remembers the door is locked. Not that a locked wooden door could actually stop Cas, but still. “I don’t think we should be in the same room right now, Cas.”

“Dean, please.”

Rolling his eyes upwards and tipping his head back against the headboard, Dean sighs. “Fine. Give me a minute.”

He gets up, dropping the towel into the hamper, scooping the used tissues into the trash bin, and grabbing a clean pair of boxers to wear. Dean unlocks the door and climbs back into bed, hiding his lower half beneath the blankets, for all the good that’ll do.

“Okay.”

The door opens slowly and Cas steps inside, shutting the door behind himself and leaning on it before making eye contact.

Dean stares at him till he can’t, frustrated and embarrassed and just feeling so fucking raw and exposed like this.

“Cas, look.” He pushes a hand through his hair, leaning back against his pillows. “I’m sorry, alright? This whole thing is a mess and it’s my fault, and I just… I don’t want anyone else suffering because I’m an idiot.”

Cas stares at him for a moment, then pushes off the door, coming to stand at the end of the bed. “What can’t you do, Dean?”

He looks back at Cas, confused. “What?”

“A moment ago, you said you ‘just can’t’… can’t what?” Cas’s face is an unreadable mix of emotions, none of which are happy.

Dean sighs. “Don’t do that. Don’t dig at this, Cas.”

“I deserve to know, Dean. If you’re going to just give up, I want to know what it is that you can’t bear to do.” He leans forward on the bed, hands pressed into the mattress on either side of Dean’s legs, and Dean can see the fury burning in those deep blue eyes.

Dean looks away, taking a slow breath and resolutely not thinking about a single fucking thing.

He drops his gaze to his hands while muttering, “This is too much to ask of you, Cas… you don’t know what it means.”

Cas straightens up and crosses his arms, glaring at Dean. “Right, yes, I forgot. I’m too ignorant to the customs of humans to understand that this will literally save your life!”

Dean rolls his eyes. “That is not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, Dean? Because nothing you are saying makes any sense at all. Is it because…” He pauses and looks away for a moment, looking up at Dean again when he speaks. “I’m not actually a man, not in the human gendered sense, but it is understandable that you’d see me that way. Is it really that much of an obstacle?”

Scowling at Cas, he shakes his head. “Come on man, what the fuck kind of homophobe do you take me for?”

Cas clenches his fist at this. “So it’s me, then? You just can’t bear to touch me, not even to save yourself?”

“No, you ass, it’s because I don’t want to force myself on the one fucking person I need more than anyone, just to fix my stupid fucking mistake! Because it’s not fair to either of us, and it’ll change everything, and I—I can’t fucking lose you, Cas! Okay?? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Dean sits forward, agitated.

Cas looks shocked. “Would you have ever said that to me, if this hadn’t happened?”

Dean balks at this, immediately defensive. “I hadn’t planned to, no. Would you have wanted me to? To make things weird between us for no good reason?”

“Why Dean? Why would knowing how much you care for me make anything weird between us? Why is it so hard for you to see that I would do anything for you? That I’d give up—have given up everything for you??” Cas pleads.

“Because, Cas, I don’t want you to do this for me, for it to just be something you put up with to save me—I want you to want to be with me!” Dean’s up on his knees now, his chest heaving with emotion, his body now close enough to Cas that he thinks he can feel the air around them crackling.

Cas is silent but Dean can tell he’s breathing heavily too, can see his eyes glittering with more than Dean can put a name to right now. He can practically hear the gears whirring in Cas’s mind and Dean’s suddenly terrified of how Cas will respond.

Attempting damage control, Dean starts to sink back on the bed, words spilling out of him. “I’m sorry, Cas. This isn’t… I know I shouldn’t… I never meant for you to find out about this—”

Cas fists his tee shirt and hauls Dean back onto his knees with ease, and before Dean can utter more than a surprised squeak, Cas kisses him.

The lightning that zings through Dean when their lips meet makes him shudder painfully, arousal bursting him wide open, but he’s so spent already that barely anything happens, just a faint twitch of his dick.

Cas clocks it though, and he slides a hand through Dean’s hair, cool grace flowing into his warm body as Cas’s fingertips trace a path over his scalp and down his shoulder. The spent, nearly dehydrated feeling evaporates and Dean trembles at the rejuvenating sensation.

Pulling back slightly, Cas stares at him, eyes darting all over Dean’s face, voice awed as he speaks. “You want me.” It’s not a question, but Dean nods a ‘yes’ anyway.

Leaning in to kiss Dean again, Cas asks softly. “You want to be with me… like this? As lovers?”

Dean smiles against his mouth, “Yeah, Cas. As lovers, as friends, as everything.”

Cas kisses him, lips sliding over Dean’s, tongue gently seeking entrance and he opens to his angel eagerly.

He knew Cas hadn’t broken the curse with his grace. No, Dean understood Cas had only restored his weakened body. He hadn’t accounted for how fully Cas had done his job though, because the moment their tongues meet, Dean groans against Cas in pleasure, only to find himself gasping a second later, a blindingly intense orgasm ripping through him, hot pulses of cum drenching the front of his boxers.

“Fuck—” Dean whimpers breathlessly, one fist tangled in the lapel of Cas’s trench, the other gripping Cas’s shoulder tightly in an attempt to stay upright.

Face flushed, Dean leans his forehead against Cas’s chest. “Sorry, that’s not exactly how I imagined this moment happening.” He mumbles, embarrassed.

Cas slips a finger under Dean’s chin, tipping his face up. “Please don’t hide from me, Dean. That was incredible.”

Dean meets his eyes and smiles when he sees the pleased expression on Cas’s face. He leans in, kissing Cas softly, and Cas returns it in kind.

It doesn’t stay gentle for long, and Dean finds himself on his back on the bed before he realizes what’s happening, Cas hovering over him. Dean grabs the tie dangling between them and pulls Cas in for another kiss.

Tugging at the blue silk again, Dean drags his mouth away from Cas’s to kiss his neck, lips brushing the soft skin there as he speaks. “You should take this off.”

Cas leans back, studying Dean, and then he stands up and starts stripping off his clothes. It’s methodical and still somehow so fucking hot, and Dean can’t tear his eyes away. Cas smiles at him when he’s down to just his boxers and he jerks his head towards Dean’s body.

“You too, please.”

Dean grins at him. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

He sits up and yanks off his tee, then leans back and lifts his hips, wiping himself off with the shirt as he slides his boxers down his legs. Settling back on the bed, he turns his head to find Cas drinking him in and Dean has to close his eyes and breathe deeply again.

When he opens them, Cas is just straightening up, his underwear pooled on the floor by his feet, and Dean’s eyes snap to his crotch automatically. He’s hard, his thick cock shiny at the tip, slippery with precome and jutting out from under a patch of coarse, dark hair. Dean had been considering several options for his act of service, if he had allowed himself to go through with it, and while a blowjob was in the lead for a multitude of reasons, it just shot straight to the top of the list.

Cas steps closer and reaches a hand out, fingers lightly tracing the edge of Dean’s hipbone, and honestly, curse or not, Dean thinks that would’ve done him in either way.

He cries out as a wave of pleasure washes over him, feels his cock twitching, hot cum painting his lower belly. He watches as Cas reaches out to drag a finger through the mess, bringing it up to his mouth to taste.

“Cas, I—“ He’s cut off by Cas leaning in to kiss Dean, the taste of his spunk lingering on Cas’s tongue and he groans. This angel is sinfully hot, and Dean’s not sure how he got so lucky, but somehow here with Dean is where Castiel chooses to be.

He tugs Cas down onto the bed and rolls onto his side, breaking the kiss for a moment to breathe.

“Okay, clearly the curse isn’t done with me yet, so if you’re still willing…?”

Cas interrupts him with a kiss. “More than willing, Dean. I’m happy to do anything you have in mind.”

With a wink, Dean slips off the bed and between Cas’s knees, tugging him by the hips to the edge of the mattress. Looking up, he sees Cas is propped up on his elbows, watching, so Dean licks a stripe up Cas’s perfect cock while holding eye contact, grinning when Cas drops his head back with a groan. Dean follows the same path up Cas’s cock several more times, swirling his tongue around the tip and sucking gently. Cas bucks up at the feeling and Dean puts a palm on his hip soothingly.

Mouthing over the tip of Cas again, Dean sinks down on his length, swallowing him as far as he can and using his hand to make up for the rest. Cas moans loudly as Dean starts to stroke and suck him in earnest, his speech reduced to incoherent mumbling, the only discernible word being ‘Dean!’.

It takes surprisingly little time before Cas is shifting his hips to match Dean’s movements, gyrating desperately with every tight pump and gasping out little breathy moans. He’s begging Dean so sweetly, all ‘please’ and ‘yes’ and ‘more’, fists clenched tightly in the sheets. A couple of strokes later, Cas is coming apart in Dean’s mouth, flooding it with his release, and Dean swallows it all with pleasure. He wants to lay claim to every last bit of Castiel that he’s allowed.

Dean’s sitting back on his heels, watching as Cas slowly recovers from his orgasm when he realizes—he’s hard.

He looks down and fuck, he’s never been so happy to see his own dick, all flushed and red and weeping and fucking standing at attention.

Looking up, he sees Cas is sitting up now, watching him.

”It appears to have worked?” He smiles.

Dean nods, letting out a sigh of relief. “I take back anything I said about this curse being funny, ever. That sucked.”

Reaching down, Cas pulls Dean up onto the bed alongside him. He kisses Dean, tongue sweeping deeply into Dean’s mouth and Dean knows Cas can taste himself there, can hear the pleased hum Cas is making as he presses their bodies together.

Cas kisses his way down Dean’s jaw, stopping to suck at his pulse point. “I enjoy tasting myself on you.” His voice rumbles against Dean’s throat and Dean shivers, delighted to be able to feel the flush of arousal, the way his cock hardens further, dribbling precome.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Dean turns his head towards Cas and slides a hand up his neck, thumb brushing the stubble on his jaw.

Cas kisses him again, clearly searching for another taste and Dean melts into it, letting himself be plundered. Pulling back and licking his lips, Cas meets his eyes, holding contact.

“Because you taste like you’re mine.” Cas whispers.

“Yeah,” Dean breathes. “Yeah Cas, I am. I’m yours. Think I have been forever.”

Cas pushes him back into the pillows at this, crashing their mouths together. He slides a hand down Dean’s chest, teasingly dragging his fingertips through his pubic hair.

“May I?”

Dean nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, fuck–please.”

Cas grips his aching dick with the kind of surety Dean’s never felt from a first-time partner, and he thinks about how this human-shaped best friend of his is actually an angel, a being of light and grace who rebuilt his body and soul, who is familiar with him on an atomic level, and yeah, it just makes sense. Cas has always been attuned to Dean, has understood him in ways he never expected to be.

A slick, tight pump of his cock brings Dean’s focus immediately back to the moment, and he moans brokenly, lips parting against Cas’s mouth. “Fuck, that feels amazing.”

Cas pays attention like no one Dean’s ever been with before, taking in Dean’s every gasp and moan and writhe and adjusting his touches in real-time. He’s jerking Dean off more perfectly than Dean thinks he’s even done for himself, and he’s so goddamned relieved that the curse is broken and he’s here with Cas like this and god it’s just too fucking good.

“Oh shit, Cas—I’m gonna—” Dean clutches at Cas, fingers scrabbling for purchase against his bare skin as he feels the heat of orgasm coiling within him.

Cas leans close, teeth nipping Dean’s collarbone, never breaking his rhythm. “Come for me, Dean.”

And oh, he does. Dean cries out as he comes, body bowing inward, his face pressed against Cas’s shoulder. He’s shooting hot, thick ropes of cum between them, whimpering as Cas twists his wrist and milks his cock, coaxing every last drop out of him. Cas gently halts his strokes, letting go when Dean starts to squirm from oversensitivity.

Bringing his messy hand up to his mouth, Cas licks Dean’s cum off with broad swipes of his tongue. Dean watches as Cas’s pink tongue darts out, curling around his long fingers and sucking them clean. The second he’s done, Dean’s pushing forward, kissing Cas the same way as Cas did to him earlier, groaning as he tastes himself in the angel’s mouth.

“Mine,” he mutters, rolling closer to Cas, their bodies flush. Cas slides a palm around Dean’s back, holding him tightly.

“Eternally yours, yes.”

Dean closes his eyes at that, lets himself sink into this good, calm, safe feeling of being wrapped in Cas, but after a moment, he starts to laugh.

“What’s funny?” Cas nudges him, their noses bumping.

Dean shakes his head. “Just, of course I had to get cursed for us to end up here, right? Nothing like life or death for us to finally come clean.”

Cas smiles and kisses him. “I prefer you coming messy, but I understand the sentiment.”

Shocked at how easily he dropped that innuendo, Dean gawks at Cas before rolling on top of him, kissing him while laughing.

“Dirty angel of mine.”

Cas responds by grabbing Dean’s ass and Dean leans in to kiss him again, overjoyed that for once, everything’s turned out the way he wants.

Who’d have thought that a tiny, cursed golden dick would be able to grant his greatest wish?

*

Elsewhere in the bunker, Sam adjusts his noise-cancelling headphones and picks up his cell, typing out a text to Dean.

>> Curse is broken then?