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The chill of the night hits Dean in waves as he frantically ushers Cas out of the brothel. He’s still laughing, even now, the situation too fucking bizzare but so ridiculously Cas-like that he can’t help but absolutely lose his shit. Dean laughs loudly, openly, possibly for the first time in years. It feels good. He barely feels the cold after a while, too caught up in laughing his ass off. Casually slinging an arm around Cas’s shoulders, Dean drags him towards the car with another choked off laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Cas asks him, looking genuinely confused.
The sincerity of the question has Dean breaking out into another fit of honest-to-God giggles. “Oh, nothing.” He takes a deep breath in, trying to steady himself. “Whoo. It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed that hard. Years.”
Cas doesn’t say anything more, but he’s smiling faintly. Dean squeezes his shoulder before shaking his head and walking around to the driver’s side of the Impala. When Dean swings his door open, Cas follows suit. They sit there in a comfortable silence for a few seconds before Dean starts chuckling again.
“...’S a shame we couldn’t get ya laid, though. Potential last night on Earth and all that.”
“That’s alright.” Cas says softly, slightly sheepish. “It may have been my fault that things didn’t go as you intended, Dean.”
Dean waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Still. Dying a virgin is insane, dude. C’mon.”
“I don’t quite understand the appeal.” Cas admits, tilting his head as Dean starts up the Impala. “You make it sound like something grand. Though, sexual intercourse is simply just another part of human nature, no?”
“Well, sure, but–” Dean turns them onto the main road, far away from the disaster they created at the brothel and towards the piece of shit hotel he’s got rented out for the calm before the storm. “Doesn’t mean it ain’t fun, Cas. That’s what I was gettin’ at, anyways. Going out with a bang?”
“I see.” Cas responds simply, staring straight ahead as they drive. “Then in that case, I apologize for ruining your plans for tonight, Dean. I…understand that you would want to have some fun, before such a stressful endeavor. It was my mistake.”
“Huh?” Dean blanks. “Oh. Uh, that’s fine, Cas. It was more about you, not me.”
Cas finally blinks. “About me?”
“Yeah, man. I mean– I’ve already, like. Done that shit a lot, so. Just wanted you to get a feel for the human experience before we go hunting for Raphael. I know it probably doesn’t compare to any of your cool angel shit, but hey. It’s human.”
There’s an uncomfortable silence as they pull into the hotel’s parking lot. Cas seems to be pondering Dean’s words deeply for something that’s kind of ridiculous, but Dean just lets him do whatever it is he needs to do in order for it to make sense. Regardless of the references that do or don’t land, or the number of innuendos that go completely above Cas’s head– the company is still comforting enough. At least he knows that Cas is listening to him, even if he doesn’t always totally get it.
“You enjoy sex, Dean.”
Dean almost crashes the car right then and there. “I– what?”
“You enjoy it immensely.” Cas says again, head tilting further. “Enough for you to want me to experience it as well. Why is that?”
Still reeling, Dean takes a second to straighten the car out and park it properly in the hotel’s dimly lit parking lot. “Really, Cas?”
Cas just continues to stare at him, so Dean figures that this is one of those things that is refusing to click. “Okay, well. I don’t know, man. It feels good, that’s for sure. But– it’s nice to, uh. Be close with someone in that way, you know? Get intimate or whatever, with someone else.”
“Even if you don’t know them that well?” Cas questions. Dean shrugs.
“That makes it feel better, I guess. Knowing the person well– adds to the intimacy or what not. But, you know…this line of work– it ain’t exactly the right time to get to be knowin’ folks. Not a lot of opportunity to be sitting still.”
“I understand, Dean.” Cas says sincerely, turning to face him in the seat. “You were trying to help me experience something you find truly enjoyable. Do you find it to be calming?”
“Calming?” Dean blinks. “Sure? Yeah, I guess. Depends on how you…like it.”
Cas nods. “I see how that would be appealing, then. I feel upset to have missed out on that opportunity. It’s always interesting to learn more about what you find to be enjoyable.”
Dean lets that sit for exactly a second before he breaks. “We still can. I mean– you. Still can. Do that. If you want.”
The angel in his passenger seat gives him a confused look. “We’ve already left the den of iniquity, Dean. I’m not too sure that I will be welcomed back in so easily.”
“No, like. Hotel’s right here, man.” Dean straightens up in a bit, trying to understand where he’s going with this. “You wanna have sex before we kick Raphael’s ass? Fine. I’m right here. Let’s do it.”
If there’s a time to be confident, it might as well be now. Admittedly, blatantly asking Cas to have sex with him was not on his yearly bingo card, but he’s gotten pretty used to things sort of dropping out of the air (namely: one apocalypse and one demon blood addict brother) and hitting him right in the fucking head. He deserves to have some fun before shit hits the fan tomorrow, and wasting time pretending he hasn’t been itching to get into Cas’s pants for the past however many months would be damn pointless.
Cas is once again staring. “You’re offering to have sex with me?”
Dean shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. “Yeah, dude. It’d be too much work to go find another brothel at this point. So if you still wanna give it a go, I’m uh. Down.”
“Dean,” Cas begins gently. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I have gone this long without it. I don’t anticipate anything will change if I continue to do so.”
“I want to.” Dean blurts, and Cas’s mouth twitches slightly. “If you want to. Then yeah, I want to.”
“...Okay. If you’re sure, then yes, I’d like to try that.”
There’s a pause while they both attempt to digest the agreement. Dean sneaks a glance at Cas, who is now staring blankly ahead through the windshield. There’s no hesitation on his face, but there’s a hint of the same fear that Dean saw in his eyes when they first showed up at the brothel. That’s all he can pick out though– there’s no discomfort, which consoles Dean a bit. Helps him realize that he really isn’t forcing Cas into anything here. Whatever the feeling is, it’s mutual.
“Alright. Well. C’mon, then.”
They get out of the car in complete silence, Cas walking a couple steps behind him as if purposefully keeping distance. It’s a bit silly given what they’re about to get into, but hey, whatever floats his boat. Dean fiddles with the door’s keycard, somehow managing to do it incorrectly two times before it finally flashes green on the third attempt. He can feel Cas’s ominous presence behind him the entire time.
The room itself isn’t anything special, because it never is. Like every dingy room in the Winchester budget, it’s on the outer side of the motel and tucked against the parking lot. The room is a single, due to Sam’s absence (which Dean is trying very hard to avoid thinking about right now). There’s only one sidetable, a small lamp perched on top of it. Hung over top of the bed is what’s probably a portrait of London, but worn out enough for it to only be decipherable after about a minute of squinting. The wallpaper is a dismal shade of depression grey, peeling at the edges but matching flawlessly with the dim lighting and general sadness of the rest of the room. In the corner of the room is a shitty bathroom, looking to be on its last legs if the gradually dying ceiling light is anything to go by. Dean makes his way over to the sink right outside of it, tossing his weapons bag and keys onto a nearby chair in the process. Swinging the faucet upwards, he splashes his face with cold water a couple times before taking a deep breath. When he looks up, Cas is watching him in the mirror.
“We really gotta work on your staring problem, man.” Dean says with a laugh, grabbing a face towel and pressing it into his eyes a little too hard to be comfortable.
When he lifts the towel, Cas is suddenly right behind him. Dean turns to face him, acknowledging the few inches that separate them with amusement.
“Personal space, too.” He jokes, though Cas is quick to look embarrassed. The angel tries to take a step back, but not before Dean grabs him by the waist and holds him there.
“I’m messing with you.” Dean clarifies. Cas visibly relaxes, but there’s still some leftover tension in his shoulders. “Wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense to be far apart right now, y’know?”
“Dean.” Cas says breathily. “You’re– are you certain you’re alright with this?”
Dean searches his face for a moment, wondering if it would even be worth it to lie. This is clearly a difficult thing for Cas, and he’s not about to make it harder by being dishonest. Not that he’d say it out loud, but it also gives him a sort of selfish thrill to know that he’s the one getting this opportunity– not some stranger at a brothel, but Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man. Surely that’s a name Cas’ll remember.
“Yeah,” Dean admits. “Yeah, I am. I want this. Are you alright with this?”
Cas looks stricken, but nods. “Yes. I– Dean, you have to understand. It’s not just now. I believe that I have always…wanted this. In some capacity. Desired you in this way. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling before, but I understand it now. This– this is–”
“Okay, yeah.” Dean cuts him off quickly, ‘cause that’s about as much chick-flick he can take right now. “Yeah. Me too, Cas. Me too.”
If Cas looked overwhelmed before, he looks almost ready to break now. His blue eyes look even brighter than usual and the pinch in his shoulders finally begins to loosen. Dean rubs a thumb over his hip, nodding mindlessly. Cas nods back, just as dazedly.
That’s all the warning he gives Cas before lifting a hand to grab the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. It’s soft and sweet, slow and out-of-character for Dean, but nice nonetheless. Really nice, actually. His other hand remains at Cas’s waist, gripping a little tighter and pulling the angel in closer. Cas’s lips are dry and slightly chapped, but Dean finds it to be satisfying. He keeps it tame and gentle, helping Cas test the waters. The angel in question is making soft noises against his mouth, pushing Dean backwards against the sink in an effort to get closer. His stubble scrapes against Dean’s own every time they change the angle, and the burn is just right. Dean’s not too sure how he went so long without this, but now that they’ve started…stopping is going to be near impossible.
The first break in their kiss is solely because Dean needs air to breathe, goddamit. Cas might be able to go without it, but Dean’s only human. They take each other in; Dean, out of breath, and Cas, seemingly out of his mind. Cas’s trenchcoat is a bit pushed back on his shoulders from how close they were pressed together, so Dean does him a favor and shoves it the rest of the way off. It falls to the carpet with a whoosh that fills the silence.
Cas looks practically naked like this, Dean notes. Up until this point, the ridiculous trenchcoat seemed to be literally glued to the angel like it was his damn blanky. Seeing him without it is jarring. That flash of selfish satisfaction shoots through him again like a shockwave, something possessive taking hold of his brain at the sight of Cas in his dress shirt. He doesn’t realize that his grip on Cas’s waist has only managed to get tighter until Cas says his name softly.
“Dean.” He says again. It’s just his name and nothing else, but Dean can pick up the underlying message anyways. With a hum, he pulls his angel back in.
Cas’s hands come up to bracket his ribs. The weight of them is grounding, and Dean leans forward to get impossibly closer. They go back and forth like that, pushed up against the sink and then away from it. Cupping Cas’s face with one hand, Dean slows down the kiss until he’s nipping softly at Cas’s bottom lip. Cas’s lips part in surprise, and Dean takes the opportunity to get a deeper taste. Cas lets him in, although with less confidence than before. This is new for him, Dean thinks. I gotta do this right.
As endearing as Cas’s inexperience with all of this is, Dean’s determined to get things moving along. In-between kisses, Dean steers them backwards until Cas’s legs hit the edge of the bed. They part for a moment, just long enough for Dean to push him onto the mattress. Cas goes down easily.
Dean takes a deep breath in. Cas is propped up onto his elbows now, studying Dean carefully. His eyes are blown, and his lips are bitten red. They’re slightly slick from where Dean was licking them open. Cas looks fucked-out enough as it is, and Dean hasn’t even gotten the guy naked yet.
“Dean.” Cas says. “Come here, please.”
Jesus Christ. Dean would have to be fucking stupid to say no to that request.
“Shit.” Dean kicks his shoes off carelessly, peeling his jacket off and tossing it to the side. Crawling on top of Cas, he guides him further up onto the bed until they’re once again pressed up against each other. “Fuck, Cas. C’mere.”
Cas is the one to kiss him this time, something heavy and urgent in each press of their mouths. He’s openly panting into Dean’s mouth, which is driving him fucking crazy. Why the fuck weren’t they doing this sooner?
Dean sneaks a hand between them to start undoing the buttons of Cas’s dressshirt. Cas seems to get the memo and begins working at his dresspants, and they somehow manage to discard both items while only briefly breaking their kisses. In an effort to get Cas’s pants fully off of his legs, Dean’s hand brushes against the very obvious tent in Cas’s boxers. The angel makes a sound like he’s been shot, and Dean smiles.
“Relax, Cas.” Dean says with a chuckle, tossing the pants onto the floor. “Just chill out. I’ll take care of you.”
Cas arches towards him as if begging for the contact again. “Can you– I don’t–”
“I’ve gotcha.” Dean tells him, leaning down for a quick kiss before pulling Cas’s boxers off, finally. He tries not to stare too hard at the exposed angel underneath him right now, but fuck, does Cas make a sight. His face is coated in a pretty flush that travels all the way down to the top of his chest. He’s built; sturdy, even. Firm. Dean’s eyes follow the trail of hair under his navel until he’s staring directly at Cas’s dick. It’s swollen red, leaking steadily. Dean feels dizzy. He’s overwhelmed with just how badly he wants to make Cas feel good, and dammit if he’s not going to see it all the way through.
“I’ve gotcha, sweetheart.” Dean once again reassures him, scooting them both upwards so that he’s got enough room to work. The pet name comes out instinctually, and Dean can’t find it in himself to care too much. Cas is chasing Dean’s mouth with an insistence that’s kind of adorable, so Dean gives him what he wants. With Cas fully distracted by their seemingly endless kisses, Dean reaches down to get a hand around his dick.
Cas– fucking whimpers, honestly, and Dean has to physically hold himself back from doing the same. He starts off with a slow up-and-down to ease Cas into the feeling. Cas is already ridiculously wet, so the slide comes easily. From then, it’s just building up a gentle rhythm as Cas continues to fall apart in his hand.
“Ah– Dean, I–”
“Yeah?” Dean can’t help but grin. “Feels good, huh?”
“I didn’t– I didn’t know, Dean.” Cas’s eyes flutter shut as he begins moving subconsciously along with Dean’s hand. “Is it always– like this?”
“If you do it right, yeah. You like it?” When Cas doesn’t respond, Dean halts his movement altogether. “Hey. Eyes on me, sweetheart.”
“Yes.” Cas says quickly, and Dean’s met with his glassy blue eyes once again. “Why did you stop?”
Dean squeezes his hand just to watch the way Cas shudders. “‘Cause I’m not done with you just yet. We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet, dude.”
“Oh.” Cas mumbles, giving Dean a blatant once-over. “Aren’t you going to get undressed, then? It hardly seems appropriate for me to be the only one naked.”
Dean snorts, but pulls his shirt over his head anyways. “You’ve got such a way with words.”
Cas is watching him unashamedly, and Dean notices that he’s primarily focused on the palm-shaped branding that’s still visible on Dean’s shoulder. Though not as inflamed as it was originally, it still sticks out against his skin. The permanently scarred skin is a bit raised at the edges. It doesn’t bother Dean, it honestly never has. If anything, it’s served as a weird kind of comfort. A sort of reminder that he’s not where he used to be, tearing souls to shreds in the deepest pits of Hell.
As if sensing his train of thought, Cas lifts a hand to fit it over the scar lining. It fits perfectly, of course. Absurdly, Dean thinks that it feels…right, for Cas’s hand to be there. The moment stretches between them until Dean senses a sharp tingling sensation under the scar.
“Woah, woah, woah. What’s– what’re you doing?” Dean asks, alarmed.
Cas lifts his hand away from the scar, one eyebrow raised. “Healing your scar?”
“The fuck?” Dean bats his hand away. “Quit it. It’s– the scar’s fine, dude. Why the fuck are you tryin’ to heal it?”
Cas blinks, hand still in the air. “That can’t possibly be comfortable for you, Dean. Pulling you out of hell was far from painless– though I made sure to rebuild your body flawlessly, it seems that I was still careless enough to leave you with this mark. Even if it is not physically painful, I can’t imagine that seeing this scar on your skin brings you any kind of joy.” Frowning, Cas looks away guiltily. “...I apologize for leaving you with such an obvious reminder. I know that it was a difficult time for you.”
Dean just stares at him, mouth open. Cas can’t possibly be serious, right?
Looking back at him briefly, Cas’s frown only deepens. “I’m sorry. I’ve ruined the mood.”
“You didn’t– Jesus, Cas.” Dean grabs the angel’s hand and re-fits it over the scar, dipping his head down to catch his lowered gaze. “You didn’t ruin anything. Not now, and not then. Hell isn’t my favorite memory, don’t get me wrong. But c’mon, man. This scar, you–” Dean sighs, exasperated. “You saved me. This scar is proof of that. You said it yourself, remember? ‘I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition’, remember that?” Cas huffs at the poor impression of his voice, but he’s smiling slightly. “You got me outta there. Why wouldn’t I wanna remember that?”
Cas hums, not looking entirely convinced. Dean lifts a hand to cover Cas’s own on his shoulder, squeezing it briefly.
“Don’t heal it. Leave it there, okay? I like it.”
Cas watches him fondly. “If you insist, Dean.”
“Yep, I do. So drop it.” Dean drops his hand to wind it into Cas’s messy hair, tugging softly. Cas whines quietly. “Now where were we?”
Still smiling, Cas begins undoing the zipper of Dean’s jeans. He looks a bit more sure of himself now– still moving slowly, but with clear intent. “I’d like to see you as well, if you’re amenable.”
“If I’m– pfft.” Dean helps him out, and they work together to get both Dean’s jeans and boxers all the way off. “Amenable? People don’t actually use that word out loud, dude.”
“I’m an Angel of the Lord.” Cas reminds him, looking smug. He gestures to the pile of clothes at the side of the bed that Dean adds to with the addition of his underwear. “Well? Does this mean you’re amenable, then?”
Dean snorts. “Duh.”
They meet in a kiss, and it’s kinda scary how easily it happens. Like it’s natural, like they’ve been doing it for years already. Dean gets a bit lost in it. It feels good, being with Cas like this. It’s more intimate than a formal agreement to have sex should be, and though Dean tries not to give it much thought, he can’t help but wonder if things could have been different for them. If it wasn’t a matter of it being their last night on Earth, could this have been something more?
He wonders if Cas feels the same. There’s a yearning in the way he kisses Dean, like he doesn’t know how to stop himself. Every time they break apart, Cas chases him until they meet again. Cas’s hands find his waist, and when skin finally meets skin, Dean feels like he’s burning from the inside out.
Dean guides them into a steady grind, and the noises that Cas starts making at the contact are downright sinful. He presses their foreheads together as they move. Cas shifts his legs to allow Dean to settle more comfortably between them, allowing even more friction than before. When Cas gasps and arches upwards, Dean moves to bite at his exposed throat. The angel’s skin bruises quickly under his teeth, and Dean quickly becomes obsessed with giving him some kind of mark to mirror his own. It’s possessive, maybe, but Dean wants it so badly that he might go insane otherwise. After leaving one spot a blooming purple, he moves on to the next empty patch of skin. Over and over again. When he finally drags himself away, Cas has a littering of love bites that compliment his complexion wonderfully. Cas reaches up to cup his face, awestruck. Dean smiles at him, turning his head to press kisses into his palm.
So, it’s intimate. Like, even Dean’s never done this level of intimate, intimate. He’s not sure why he’s so determined to make this entire experience absolutely flawless, seeing as sex has never been that serious of a thing for him before. It’s always just been one of those casual things that he does for kicks. He’s mastered the art of it at this point– picking up an interested stranger at the nearest bar like it’s light work, fucking until he feels something, then packing up and heading out before even getting their name. Years of that, and he’s never really had an instance where it felt so…personal.
Dean acknowledges that Cas literally rebuilt him. He’s completely oblivious to the absolute fucking mess his soul must’ve been when Cas first found him in Hell, but he knows the rescue mission couldn’t have been pretty. Cas reworked his entire being, though. From fucking scratch. So if there’s some sort of bar for how intimately you can know someone– well. Dean supposes Cas surpassed it a long time ago.
“Do you wanna…” Dean starts, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “How d’you wanna do this?”
Cas’s eyes darken a fraction. “That’s up to you, Dean. What do you prefer?”
Dean shrugs, nudging Cas’s legs further apart. “I’m not picky. It’s whatever you wanna do, man.”
Humming, Cas nods. “Then…let’s do it like this. Perhaps afterwards, I can take you instead?”
Cas says afterwards like it’s so simple, like they’ve got all the time in the world. He knows they’re on a timer, right? Last night on Earth has to end at some point, whether Dean wants it to or not. But for now, he’ll take what he can get.
“Sure. Get comfy, alright? I just gotta–” Dean pulls away from Cas to grab at the duffel he left open at the side of the bed, digging around until he finds the small bottle of lube he keeps stashed for unimportant reasons. “Got it.”
“Is that necessary?” Cas asks as Dean gets resituated. “You can’t hurt me, Dean.”
“If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right. Angel or not.” Dean tells him, popping the cap open and warming it up a bit between his fingers. “You just sit there and look pretty, ‘kay? Lemme worry about the rest.”
Cas doesn’t argue it any further, just readjusts to give Dean more access. He tenses up a bit at the first press of Dean’s finger at his hole, so Dean ducks down to give him a quick kiss.
“It’s gonna feel good, promise. You trust me, yeah?”
“Of course.” Cas says sincerely.
“Good.”
With the help of the lube, the first finger slides in without any trouble. Cas relaxes as instructed, laying fully back on the bed with one arm still reaching out aimlessly for Dean. Laughing, Dean moves a little closer so that Cas can hold onto his shoulder. He works the finger in gently, looking up to gauge Cas’s reaction.
“Still feelin’ okay?”
Cas nods slowly. “...Yes. Though, Dean– I could just–”
“Don’t.” Dean says firmly. “Don’t mojo through this. We’re doin’ it the human way.”
With that, Dean pushes another finger in. Cas welcomes the intrusion with a breezy sigh, his grip tightening on Dean’s shoulder. Dean starts moving the fingers inside of him slowly, applying gradual pressure as Cas continues to relax. After a few minutes of searching, Dean manages to find the spot that makes Cas’s entire body jerk in surprise. Grinning, Dean waits a second before pressing harder against that same spot.
“Nnh– oh. That’s…” Cas breaks out into a gasp as Dean applies more pressure. “Again. Please.”
Not one to deny his angel anything, Dean complies. Watching Cas push back onto his fingers is straight out of every wet dream Dean’s ever had, and all he can do is keep those breathless noises coming. Trying to keep his fingers moving while also focusing on how Cas falls apart might be more difficult than successfully offing Raphael tomorrow. Dean feels a little crazy with the way he’s got Cas right now. He’s unreal; angelic nature aside, Cas has always managed to hold himself up very carefully. A pillar of everything holy they write about in the Bible. As to probably be expected by a warrior of God, he’s calm, composed, and delivers even the most intense, apocalyptic messages to the Winchesters with a sturdiness that’s unrivaled by any other piece of shit angel Dean’s ever met. He’s got an air about him. He represents every formality of Heaven with a certainty that only dares to be challenged. Cas is, as stupid as it sounds even in Dean’s own head, graceful. Despite every way he continues to bend rules and find loopholes in his angelic instructions, Dean still thinks he’s the most reliable angel that God’s got on the roster.
But right now, like this…he’s no servant of God. He’s at Dean’s mercy, after all. There’s something horribly ironic about the Righteous Man bringing an angel pleasure in this way, given the fact that Dean’s no fan of anything Heaven related to begin with. It’s literally just Cas. Dean’s not ready to give in to any holy dickhead of the Lord, but Cas is an obvious exception. They’ve always been that way. Exceptions for the other.
Now up to three fingers, the stretch is easy. Dean catches Cas’s already open mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing every moan as he speeds up his fingers. He doesn’t miss the way Cas’s body starts to tense up like a band ready to snap. Just before it becomes too much, he pulls his fingers free.
“Dean.” Cas groans into his mouth. The grip he previously had on Dean’s shoulder trails down his arm as they continue to trade kisses. Dean keeps him busy like that, multitasking in his own right as he carefully positions himself to line up with Cas’s hole. He doesn’t press in just yet, but gets enough extra lube on his hand to properly slick his dick up. The thought of doing this bare has him a little dizzy, but even to his own surprise, he hasn’t slept with anyone since being pulled from Hell. As far as Cas goes…Dean’s pretty sure that disease of any sort doesn't apply to celestial beings.
“You ready, Cas?”
Cas has the nerve to look offended at the question. Dean’s feeling pretty confident, honestly. He’s having fun. Sue him.
“Finish what you started, Dean.”
“Say less.” With a deep exhale, Dean begins pressing into him slowly. “Fuck, sweetheart.”
In a motion that’s alarmingly human, Cas wraps his legs around Dean’s lower back to pull him closer. With the added closeness, Dean only continues to push in deeper. It’s tight, and it’s good, and it’s Cas. When he finally bottoms out, Dean releases the teeth he didn’t even know he was biting into his own tongue.
He gives Cas some time to get used to the feeling. They breathe together despite Cas not really needing to, but it calms Dean nonetheless. Looking down at the mess of an angel underneath him, Dean shudders. Cas is watching him with a desire in his eyes that Dean’s not sure he’s ever seen before. There’s such a raw lust there, one that he wasn’t even aware angels could experience.
“You alright?” Dean asks him breathily, leaning down to bump their noses together. It’s suddenly so much, it’s so overwhelming. His mind is reeling. “Shit. Tell me you’re okay, Cas. I can’t– I need–”
“I’m alright, Dean.” Cas assures him, and his voice is almost a whisper. They’re so close together, and it’s still somehow not enough. “Fuck me, please.”
Dean does.
—
Something about fucking Cas is unfathomable.
They start slow, of course, ‘cause Dean’s a damn careful lover. Cas has his arms wrapped loosely around Dean’s neck as Dean thrusts up into him. He keeps asking for kisses between each push and Dean doesn’t deny him. Dean keeps the pace nice and easy while he waits for Cas to get used to the feeling, though it’s getting more and more difficult to keep it together. Cas seems to understand this as well, especially when a particularly angled thrust makes him stutter mid-kiss.
Cas looks beautiful like this, Dean thinks. Maybe this is how he should always look, how he should always be. Beneath Dean and begging for more.
“That’s– mm. Dean. Again.”
Dean complies, repeating the movement with a smug smile. “How’s that?”
“Good. It feels very good– ah.”
Snickering, Dean shoves in a little harder. “D’you want more, sweetheart?”
Cas just nods quickly, looking out of breath. His grip tightens a bit at Dean’s neck, one hand idly stroking the base of Dean’s throat. Each thrust has Cas’s cock rubbing friction between their stomachs, still dripping precum. The sight makes Dean’s throat a little dry, and he briefly considers sucking Cas off later when they’re ready to go for round two. For now, he opts for giving Cas a night to remember.
“Shit, Cas.” Dean fucks him a little faster, starting to lose his rhythm just a bit. “Fuck. You feel so fucking good.”
“Ah, Dean– please. Can– can you–” Cas breaks out into a strangled moan, pushing back to meet each thrust in. He’s unashamedly fucking himself back onto Dean’s cock, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. It gives Dean even more reason to pull him closer, knowing that Cas is separating himself from his grace just to feel each sensation as a human would. Not for anyone else– he would never stoop this low for any regular human. But he’d do it for Dean Winchester.
Dean swears again. “Jesus Christ, Cas– fuck. You want it harder?”
“Yes, yes– please. Dean, please.”
“Fuck.” Dean’s fully out of his mind. This has got to be some kind of out-of-body experience at this point, or maybe having sex with an angel comes with a complimentary mindfuck. He doesn’t know where to look anymore. Cas’s lips are bitten and red. His skin is covered in bruises. He’s got sweat dripping down his collarbone, and Dean wants to taste it. His legs are shaking, but he tries to open them further for Dean anyway. And his eyes, probably most distracting of all, are watery with the uncharacteristic onset of tears.
Dean fucks him ‘til he can’t anymore. Each slam against his prostate has Cas keening, arching and gasping. He drags his angel into a filthy kiss, teeth clacking together as they both begin to falter. Dean’s breath starts to hitch, but he doesn’t stop. Cas starts to drag his nails down Dean’s throat, around his back, and at the base of his arms. The scratches don’t even register as pain to Dean– it’s all pleasure, and it’s just the two of them.
Cas isn’t for anyone else. The thought strikes him as he watches Cas finally break, spilling between their bodies like a crashing wave. Dean isn’t far behind him, coming deep inside of Cas with one final thrust and stifling his moan by biting down hard onto the side of Cas’s throat. He doesn’t care if it hurts his jaw, or if it bleeds. He literally can’t help himself. He’s that far gone.
Cas found Dean, and now Dean’s keeping him. It’s that simple.
As Dean starts to come down from his high, he releases the bite he was sucking into Cas’s throat. Cas whines at the loss, but allows Dean to carefully pull out of him as they both catch their breath. Some of Dean’s come drips out of Cas’s hole and onto his thighs. Dean represses the urge to lick them clean.
He collapses on the bed next to Cas with a satisfied puff of breath, flat on his back. Cas still hasn’t moved, but they breathe quietly together.
“Well?” Dean finally asks after several silent minutes, his curiosity getting the best of him. “What did’ya think?”
Cas doesn’t respond immediately, but he turns his head to the side to assess Dean. His brows furrow in the same way they do when he’s digesting the severity of a supernatural threat. “It was…”
Dean frowns. “That bad, huh?”
“Bad? No, not at all.” Cas shifts to instead lay on his side, and it puts his body a little closer to Dean’s. “Dean, that was…amazing. I understand now why you wanted me to experience it so badly. I’ve never felt pleasure like that. Thank you for allowing me to try it with you. You are very skilled at sex, Dean.”
Groaning, Dean throws an arm over his eyes. “Dude. You don’t thank people for sex. That’s weird.”
Cas continues to stare at him. “My apologies. I simply wanted you to know that I truly enjoyed myself. Being close with you in this way is incredibly rewarding.”
That comment makes Dean pause for a second. “Rewarding?”
Next to him, Cas presses his face into the pillow like a cat curling up to sleep. “Ah, well. Yes. It’s…irrelevant. Anyways, I just wanted to make my appreciation clear.”
Dean could ask him what he meant. It’d be so easy. Cas doesn’t usually shy away from him like this. If Dean prods, Cas eventually gives in. All he’d have to do is ask.
But he doesn’t. Instead, Dean turns to mirror Cas’s pose on the bed, and watches him quietly. Something’s changed, he knows that much. Sex isn’t supposed to change things. Historically, for Dean, it never has. To be fair though, it’s also never been like this. Charged, intense, and weirdly emotional. Cas looks up to meet his gaze, and they both just stare at the other. He bets that Cas is thinking the same thing as him right now.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not one night before the end of their lives.
“Dean.” Cas finally says. “Is it alright if I come closer?”
Dean seriously can’t stop staring at him. “Yeah.”
Cas comes closer. Wordlessly, Dean spreads his arm out to make space for him. Cas fills the gap, pressed up against him warmly and tucking his face in Dean’s chest. If Dean were feeling any kind of normal right now, he’d brush this off easily and tell Cas that cuddling is just another one of those human customs that people usually do after sex. Though again, he can’t bring himself to say anything. So he says nothing at all.
The heat of Cas’s body against his is more comforting than Dean would ever admit. He allows the closeness despite every instinct telling him to separate himself from this situation. Cas’s hair tickles his chin, and Dean mindlessly presses a kiss into it when Cas tries to move closer.
“I cleaned us up,” Cas tells him softly, more or less speaking into his chest. “I hope that’s alright.”
Dean chuckles at that, and he can feel Cas’s responding smile against his skin. “That’s one shortcut I won’t complain about. Thanks, Cas.”
Tomorrow is almost certainly going to be the hardest thing they’ve taken on thus far, but Dean still can’t fully let go of the small bit of hope that maybe they’ll come out alright in the end. Sure, maybe it was going to be like Cas said: catching a hurricane in a butterfly net. That was definitely daunting, and he could see past Cas’s stoic attitude– the angel was just as afraid as him. Dean’s stared Death in the face before, though. Sometimes, luck is on his side.
He drags a gentle hand down Cas’s back, tracing the area around his shoulders where he remembers seeing the jet-black shadow of his wings stick out. There’s so much left unsaid, but Dean’s not sure where to start. It feels like the worst timing in the whole fucking universe to be having this serious of a revelation right now. If anything, the frustration fills him with a determination to prove Cas wrong, to corner Raphael with complete ease and demand answers like it’s nobody’s business. Dean’s being selfish, he knows it. Though all he can do is pull his angel closer and dream of an outcome that ends with them both alive.
Cas scoots up to put them face-to-face. He’s smiling when he leans in for a kiss. It feels like a promise shared between the two of them. Dean kisses him once more, then a second time, then finally, a third time. Returning the smile is as easy as breathing.
Who knows? Maybe tomorrow will surprise him.