Work Text:
“Unattached-”
“Unattached drifter Christmas, Sammy! I’m doing them a favor.”
Dean took a swig of his beer, mentally running through the list of nearby bars. The bunker was quiet, save for the usual background hum of machinery and possible magic and Sam typing on his laptop as he researched something or another. Probably trying to find a case, as if it wasn’t his most anticipated day of the year.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Sam scoffed.
“Hey look. They’re single, I’m single, they’re lonely, and if there’s a spark, you know…” Dean linked his fingers together with a raise of his eyebrows, and Sam winced.
“Okay, that is more than enough information.”
“Look, just because you prefer to sit in the bunker and do… whatever it is you do in here when you’re not on a case, doesn’t mean I have to.”
Dean attempted to lean his chair back to put his feet on the table, but as he did, the back hit something solid, and he found himself looking up at Cas’s somewhat befuddled expression. He jolted a bit, quickly getting his chair righted and his feet back under him.
“Jesus, Cas, you can’t keep doing that.”
Castiel seemed to elect to ignore that.
“I understand that Valentine’s Day can be… distressing for those without a partner, but I’m unable to see how a one-night-stand provides a solution to that issue.”
“Come on, what’s not to understand? You’ve got the connection, the stress relief, the heat of another body-”
“Okay! And that’s my cue to leave.” Sam snapped his laptop shut, shooting Dean an annoyed, yet clearly resigned look. “You two have fun discussing… whatever this is.”
“Hey, don’t act like you’re above this!” Dean called after Sam’s retreating form, earning himself a middle finger in response.
“Maybe he just doesn’t want to hear his brother describe his sexual conquests,” Cas contributed dryly, and Dean tilted his head up to stare up at him.
It was a nice view, Cas looking down at him. A small pit formed in Dean’s stomach, doing a small backflip for good measure, and he did his best to shove all of that into the deepest recesses of his mind. He was not dealing with that right now. Besides, it probably meant nothing.
Right?
“Well he can handle it, he’s an adult. Besides, what good are siblings if you can’t annoy the hell outta them sometimes?”
“I think there’s a lot-”
“Figure of speech, Cas.” Dean moved to stand up and lean against the table, grabbing a beer off the cooler that had been leaving rectangular ring-marks on the nice mahogany table for years now. “You want one?”
“It would just taste-”
“-like molecules, yeah, I remember. Just figured I’d offer.” Dean took a swig from the bottle, looking over at Cas. “So what about you? Got any plans for Valentine’s Day?”
“Not particularly. I guess I’m one of those… how did you put it? Unattached drifters.” Cas didn’t sound particularly thrilled with this, but he was also hard to read in general. And he was always… staring. Usually at Dean. He wasn’t sure why, but he figured it wasn’t the most important thing to interrogate about his… everything.
“Y’know, you could come with me. I know that the last time I tried to get you laid it didn’t work out all that well, but your people skills have definitely improved since then. Probably won’t ask anyone about their dads this time.”
“I just don’t see the point. It won’t improve my life in any way.”
“So what, you’re just not interested at all?”
Dean watched as Cas drew in a long, deep breath, his jaw working for a moment. The faint sound of unseen rustling feathers accompanied the rise of his chest.
“No, I just… I guess if I were to have that connection with someone, I would… want it to be with someone I cared about. Someone I could trust completely.”
The eye contact Cas made after that statement felt like someone was reaching directly into his brain and rummaging around. Dean shifted his weight slightly, bringing the bottle back to his lips as he tried to ignore the feeling of the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.
“So you’re one of those ‘only with people I love’ kind of guys? I mean, nothing wrong with that, but it kinda limits your options, doesn’t it?” Dean chuckled with forced casualness.
Cas broke eye contact, and Dean felt almost… disappointed? Why?
“Unbelievably so.”
Dean shrugged. “Makes sense, I guess. I mean, do angels even get worked up like that? I thought you guys didn’t have junk for the longest time.”
“We’re possessing humans, I don’t know why you’d think we wouldn’t have genitals.” He paused, seemingly choosing his next words with extreme care. “And… There are. Occasions.”
Dean studied him as he took another swig of his beer. Cas seemed… tense. And there was something else there, too. Cas was never particularly good with knowingly withholding information, Dean knew that much, and he was doing the thing now where he shifted his weight a bit and cleared his throat and pretended to find the banisters on the stairs particularly worthy of long-distance inspection.
“Come on, Cas, spit it out. What’s got your panties in a twist?”
“I don’t wear-” he paused, glancing back over at Dean, who gave him a look. “Oh. It’s a figure of…”
“Figure of speech, yeah yeah. You gonna answer the question?”
Castiel was silent for a long moment before replying with an unconvincing, “...nothing.”
“You’re a shit liar, you know that?”
“I don’t think it’s information you want to know.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Well now you’ve got me all curious. You can’t just say that and expect me not to wanna know after that.”
“You seem awfully certain of that.”
“I am. Now spill.” Dean raised his beer to his lip to down another swig as Castiel took a deep breath in.
“I don’t think I’d mind being one of those… unattached drifters that you spend Valentine’s Day with. I think it would be rather enjoyable, actually.”
Dean choked on his drink.
Cas wanted – no, he just… What? Just… what?
It felt like there was a wall in his brain stopping him from processing any of what Cas just said. He’d encountered a lot of things beyond his comprehension before. That was fairly routine at this point. But usually those things he was able to respond to with the sentiment of ‘as long as I know how to kill it, everything else isn’t my problem’.
This was absolutely his problem.
Problem?
He didn’t feel… upset. If anything, he felt… oddly excited? The odd pit in his stomach was back, and it seemed to be doing some sort of anxious little dance. The choked-on beer stung his throat, but it was accompanied by a matching sensation there. His face felt hot.
Why wasn’t he upset?
“I told you that you wouldn’t want to know.”
Dean held up a finger to signal that he needed a minute to recover, both from the beer he was still coughing from and… whatever that was that Cas just said.
And then Cas was standing right in front of him, and before he could react, he had two fingers on his forehead and his throat immediately cleared up. From the drink, at least. The anxious jittery feeling was still there.
Also gone was his excuse to stop talking while he processed.
“So you… want to…”
The sound of rustling feathers accompanied Cas shifting his weight. “Sleep with you, yes.”
“And what’s stopping you, exactly?”
He wasn’t sure who seemed more surprised by the words that came out of his mouth: Cas or himself. He wasn’t even really sure where they’d come from. It was the kind of thing he realized he meant as he said it, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
“I suppose your consent,” Castiel replied, his brow furrowing.
Dean took a second to finish off his beer and take a deep breath before setting down the empty bottle with a satisfying thud. “Well,” he said, “you have it.”
What was he saying?
Before he had time to think too hard about it, Cas was an inch away from his face, and thoughts suddenly became much more difficult. He’d figure out why exactly his stomach leaped at the proximity later.
Castiel’s lips were just on the edge between soft and chapped, and as he kissed him, all remaining hesitation dissolved. And when one hand slid up the back of his neck into his hair, the last bit of doubt in his mind went with it.
One hand went to brace himself against the table, and the other arm slid around Cas’s torso, pulling him closer. When Castiel’s nails scraped lightly against his scalp in response, a soft groan escaped him, and he pushed the kiss deeper.
He couldn’t quite identify the taste on Cas’s tongue. A bit like honey, a bit like his favorite whiskey, and a bit like what he could only describe as the feeling in the air right before a lightning strike. It was baffling, but overwhelmingly pleasant.
To his credit, Cas could give as good as he got. He met Dean’s increased intensity and raised it a bit further, demanding control of the kiss and pushing him to lean further over the table. He had the brief thought that that was going to fuck up his back for a while, but then Cas dragged his teeth across his lower lip and that concern vanished immediately.
“God, Cas…” He’d wanted to come up with a witty remark to follow, but instead it just came out sounding more like a prayer.
Dean watched as something flashed in Cas’s eyes at the sound of his voice – literally. They seemed to glow with an electric blue for just a brief second, and then it was gone, the only evidence being the shiver of arousal that had traveled through Dean’s body at the sight. It was something he usually only saw when they were fighting something, and he’d never had the privilege of seeing it so close, let alone directed at him.
And then he was taking a handful of Dean’s hair and pulling his head back. It wasn’t a sharp movement, but it was demanding. Dean wished that wasn’t so damn hot.
A second later, Cas’s mouth was on the exposed underside of his jaw, and he was placing a trail of kisses down the line of his throat. Occasionally he’d stop to scrape his teeth across a spot, drawing a noise from Dean that he’d later swear up and down weren’t whimpers.
And then he found a sensitive spot.
His teeth scraped across the pulse point on Dean’s neck, and he drew in a sharp breath, his hand on the small of Cas’s back tightening into a fist around his trench coat. Cas seemed to take this as encouragement and began working the mark, drawing a symphony of needy sounds from Dean’s lips. He wanted more, so much more, but Castiel’s teeth felt so good. After just a couple minutes he was already a panting, worked-up mess.
“Damn… Fuck, Cas, if I didn’t know better I’d think you had experience,” he panted out, a moan abruptly cutting off his words as Cas soothed the hickey with his tongue.
“I do.”
His low voice seemed to vibrate against Dean’s throat, and damn, he’d never thought something so simple could sound so arousing. The voice on his neck was almost better than the tongue.
Almost.
“You know how long I’ve wanted this?” Castiel spoke, moving up his neck to nip right below his ear. “To just… take you? To make you mine?”
With every word, Dean could feel his breath inside his ear, and he found himself gripping the table a bit harder. He felt a little dizzy, but in the good way, like when he had a slight buzz going.
“Who says I’m yours?” Dean retorted, but in his current state, it was no surprise that it came out incredibly unconvincing.
“Me,” Cas practically growled in his ear, and Dean couldn’t help the needy moan that left him. He was hard enough that it almost hurt, pressing against tight jeans and likely leaking through his boxers.
“If you want me so bad, then you should hurry up and take me,” Dean replied in a somewhat strained voice. He had hoped it would sound more like a challenge and less like a plea, but it came out somewhere in the middle.
“I like to take my time.”
“Well what about what I like?” Dean panted out.
“What, instant gratification? Besides.” Cas’s hand slid down from the small of Dean’s back, tracing a band around his thigh before settling right beside the bulge in his jeans. “It seems like you like this plenty.”
Dean wasn’t sure if he was in heaven or hell. The hand gripping his inner thigh was absolutely maddening. Why couldn’t he move his hand just a little to the right? Just give him something?
“Cas, if you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to walk out of this bunker and find someone else to hook up with,” Dean threatened unsteadily.
“No, you won’t.” Cas lightly nipped at his earlobe. “But if you really want it that bad, I guess I can make that happen.”
Cas’s hand moved to Dean’s fly, seemingly carefully avoiding touching him where it mattered. As he did, he began working another spot under Dean’s ear, diligently going about raising a mark there as well.
His hand moved tortuously slowly as he flicked open the button and slid down the zipper. And then in a much faster movement, he gripped Dean through his boxers, and he was suddenly very glad the bunker had good soundproofing.
“Oh, fuck, Christ, Cas… You couldn’t have done that sooner?”
“I could’ve,” Cas replied somewhat blithely, rubbing his thumb against the damp spot where the head of Dean’s cock sat, “but where’s the fun in that?”
Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head as Cas worked both his jaw and his cock, his mind going wonderfully blank for a moment before he was able to respond. “I’d… I’d argue…”
Before he could finish the sentence, Cas was taking advantage of his halting speech to interject, just the hint of a smile on his lips.
“Yes, you are rather fond of that, aren’t you.”
This time Dean’s eyes rolled for the normal reasons. However before he could manage a retort, Cas was using his grip on his hair to turn his head into a kiss. He had a strong suspicion that it was to shut him up.
Cas’s hand moved to push down Dean’s jeans off his hips, then did the same with his boxers, his cock springing free and being greeted by the chilly air of the bunker. And then the hand slid up to his chest, giving him a firm push onto the table, leaving him sprawled out across the ring-stained mahogany with Cas leaning over him, one leg between his. How he managed to do that while never breaking the kiss was beyond him.
But more importantly, now that Cas was leaning over him and pressed up against him, he could feel the hard line of his cock against his stomach. It had been pretty damn obvious that Cas was enjoying himself before, but this newly presented evidence sent a surge of arousal through him. His cock twitched against Cas’s leg, and he felt him smile against his lips.
“What were you saying about ‘what you like’?” Cas teased.
“Shut up.”
When Cas spoke, the fact that he was also pretty worked up came through in his voice. His already low and gravely voice was somehow more of both those things, and while he wasn’t showing the same signs of exertion as Dean, the way he moved with barely contain eagerness gave him away.
Dean would be lying if he said he never wondered if Cas would enjoy sex. There were the brief bursts of thought that he shut down immediately, yeah, but then there were late nights when those thoughts would run away from him, painting pictures of Cas that he never thought he’d get to see the real life embodiment of. But when Cas broke the kiss, seemingly just to look down at him, and Dean found himself staring up at his flushed face and messier-than-usual hair and eyes with pupils blown wide enough that just a small ring of glowing blue remained visible, he found himself realizing that none of his secretive fantasies ever stood a chance of holding a candle to the real thing.
On top of that, it was a lot easier to deny certain things when he was just lying in bed half-asleep than it was when Cas was quite literally on top of him.
Things like the way his heart raced when he was around him, or how he’d stare at his lips a little too long, or how sometimes when they were alone he wondered if he could grab that tie and pull him into a kiss. Or how Cas would stand so close to him, or how he always seemed to catch him staring at him, or how sometimes during movie nights he could’ve sworn he felt Cas’s wing draped around his shoulders like a blanket.
”Dean and I do share a more profound bond.”
For years those words had stuck in his head, stuck in there like a song’s repeating chorus, for reasons he couldn’t – or wouldn’t – explain.
Until now.
Until looking up at Castiel’s face and feeling like his heart was about to pound out of his chest.
Wait. Was he gay?
No. Focus. He’d been putting off having a sexuality crisis for almost forty years, he could postpone it long enough to get laid.
He reached up to cup the back of Cas’s head, pulling him back down into a heated kiss, which he immediately responded to by seeming to immediately take control of it. Dean tried to see if he could push back on it a little, just testing the limits, and Cas promptly nipped at his lower lip, drawing a groan and an eventual submission from Dean.
This submission was rewarded with a knee being drawn up to press against his hard cock, and Dean gasped at the sudden pressure. Cas used the parting of his lips to push deeper. He could practically feel the air crackle around them as his free hand scrabbled for something to grip onto and eventually landed on the lapel of Cas’s coat.
Right. The coat. That had to go.
A few quick tugs on it and Cas seemed to get the message, breaking the kiss just long enough to sit up, straddling Dean’s hips and he quickly stripped off the trench coat and dropped it onto the table beside him. As he did, Dean tugged his faded t-shirt off over his head and tossed it… somewhere. He could find it later.
Cas moved to loosen his tie, but before he could, Dean reached up to grab it and pull him down into another messy kiss. That was one thing checked off his bucket list that he didn’t know he had until about fifteen minutes ago.
After a long moment, Dean released the tie just long enough to loosen it and pull it off, dropped it blindly onto the table before fumbling to find Cas’s shirt buttons without breaking the kiss. He was pretty sure one just came off in his hand, but at least it wasn’t holding the shirt in place anymore.
His suspicions were confirmed when Cas broke the kiss, giving him a little frown that didn’t seem to hold much weight. “I like this shirt.”
“Then we’ll sew it back on later or some shit. Your fault for wearing too many clothes.”
“This coming from the man who wears three jackets at a time every time he leaves the bunker.”
“It’s called layering, and it’s practical for hunts. Besides, it looks badass.”
“That’s one word for it.” A small smile twitched at the corner of Castiel’s lips as he finished unbuttoning the shirt and slid it off, and finding a retort took a backseat to spending a moment just basking in the utter glory that was Cas.
Someone could’ve tied Dean to a chair and held a gun to his head and he still couldn’t pick out what exactly made the expanse of his chest and stomach so alluring, what made him want to kiss and bite and lick every inch of exposed skin, other than just the plain fact that it was Cas.
“You’re staring.”
“What, an attractive guy’s practically sitting on my chest and I’m not allowed to stare?”
Attractive guy, his mind echoed.
Shut up, he responded.
Cas folded the shirt over his arm before placing it on the table, an action that Dean found frustratingly unnecessary right then, and also, annoyingly, somewhat endearing.
“It’s good to hear that you find me attractive. I’d honestly given up on you having any attraction to me.”
“Yeah, why’s that?”
“I thought you were straight.”
“Yeah, so did I. And if we keep talking about it, it’s going to be a whole thing, so if we could put that off until later that would be great.”
“We should probably take your mind off that, then.”
“Yeah, probably.”
Cas picked the tie back up from the table, studying Dean curiously for a moment. It was the same look he got when he was trying to solve a puzzle of some kind, be it a monster he was trying to crack or a literal puzzle Sam had set up in the library. Being studied like that was… odd. He wished he could see into Cas’s head, see what he was thinking.
That wondering wouldn’t last long, however, as a moment later Cas ordered, “Hands above your head.” It was the same tone he’d use to give orders on a battle, and Dean’s neglected cock pulsed and leaked in response.
“Or what?” Dean challenged with a little, lopsided grin. Look, he may be into it, but that didn’t mean he was just going to take it without a fight. Where was the fun in that?
“Or I walk away right now, and neither of us get what we want.”
Dean made a show of rolling his eyes before doing as he was told.
The second his arms were above his head, Castiel’s tie was tightened around his wrists, twisted into a couple loops on either side and a secure knot between them.
“You know I could escape this pretty damn easy, right? Wouldn’t even take me a minute.” It wasn’t a very convincing threat, given that his breath was coming pretty quickly and he made no actual move to escape.
“I know. But you won’t.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. You’re going to be a good boy, aren’t you?”
Hearing Cas say that made him feel like his brain was lighting up in ways it never had before, and his cock twitched and leaked across his stomach. Apparently he was learning a lot of new things about himself today. At least this one was easier to reckon with.
“Hmm. So you like that. Me calling you a good boy?”
“Who taught you that one?” Dean asked a bit breathlessly.
“Meg. Now answer the question.”
He’d never had Cas’s interrogation voice directed at him before, and it was certainly doing things to him that he never thought it would.
“...Yeah. Yeah, I like it,” he grumbled.
Cas reached down to caress his marked-up jaw and redirect his attention towards him. The piercing blue eyes staring into his were quite literally glowing, like they were backlit lit from within.
“Good boy.”
For a split second, Dean was afraid he was about to cum right there and then before he managed to get a hold of himself. His first hookup with Cas was not going to end like that.
First.
Shut. Up.
Cas then moved to slide Dean’s jeans and boxers further down, and then – god – he was unbuttoning his own slacks, carefully removing them and placing them beside the rest of his clothes. Which meant that now he was kneeling over Dean in his boxer briefs beside a neat pile of his clothes and the shoes he’d nudged off earlier.
And then those came off too.
The second they were pushed down off of his hips, his cock sprang free, and Dean found himself staring at it with a mixture of fascination and awe.
To be honest, it had less to do with the sight of his erection itself (even though it was, admittedly, a very nice one) and more astonishment at his own fascination with it. Immediately, dozens of possibilities flooded his mind. He found himself wondering what he tasted like, what it would feel like to hold the shaft in his hand, or to slide his own against it.
And all that was… new. Very new. It wasn’t the first time he’d had those thoughts, of course, but it was the first time he’d allowed himself to have them without shutting them down, not to mention the first time the opportunity to act on all of them was right in front of him, folding his boxers and setting them aside before settling over him.
“Wait,” Dean interjected suddenly. “Don’t you need lube or something?”
“I’m an angel of the lord. It’ll take more than that to damage me.” Cas replied, sounding almost offended.
Dean would’ve raised his hand in mock surrender, but they were already tied above his head, so he just turned his palms outward instead. “Alright, alright. But don’t come crying to me if you can’t walk tomorrow.”
Cas gave him an annoyed look, and Dean shrugged the best he could. “What, I’m not allowed to be worried about you now? Tough luck.”
Cas studied him for a moment, and as Dean’s eyes met his, he slowly sunk down on his cock.
Dean drew in a sharp breath as he did, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. There was friction, but his leaking precum managed to take enough of the edge off to move it from pure pain to a mix of pain and pleasure that melted his brain a little.
Fuck that was good. Ridiculously good. Good enough that he was immediately pretty damn sure that Cas knew exactly what he was doing with him, and he felt a little bad for ever doubting him.
When he managed to open his eyes again, Castiel had him fully inside himself, and was watching Dean intently. As their eyes met, they flashed a little brighter. His face was flushed, his hair a complete mess, and his composure seemed on the verge of breaking.
Dean wondered if he could push it past that point.
“Fuck you’re pretty when you’re naked.”
Smooth.
In his defense, he was currently as deep as he could be in his best friend that he was starting to suspect he’d been in love with for a long while now. Still, it seemed to work, Castiel’s breath quickening.
“Now are you gonna move, or do I have to break outta this tie thing you’ve rigged up?”
“You have no patience, do you?” Castiel panted, but there wasn’t any anger or frustration in his tone. If anything, he sounded almost fond.
“Nope. And yet, you love me anyway.” The words were out of his mouth before he could properly consider their meaning. He’d said it before, but it was in a very different context. Implying the guy cockwarming him was in love with him was an entirely different matter.
And yet, Cas responded without hesitation.
“I do.”
Before Dean could process this or come up with a response, Cas’s mouth was back on him, claiming his lips while he braced himself by pinning Dean’s wrists to the table with one hand. Christ he was strong.
Suddenly, Dean was very interested in learning what kind of bruises angelic strength could leave.
And then Cas was moving.
He started slowly at first, rocking his hips, then slowly raising himself up a bit, then down again, establishing a rhythm before picking up the pace. The kiss became much more disjointed as he did, with both of them losing focus in favor of other areas. Dean’s breath was coming in heavy, moan-mingled panting, and Cas’s was coming in deep, shaky inhales and shuddering exhales. Even if he was maintaining his composure well, it was fairly obvious he’d found the right angle to hit the perfect spot.
Soon enough, Dean was thrusting his hips up to meet Cas, sinking into his heat over and over, the slight burn giving way to pure pleasure as his cock leaked inside of him. Cas, for his part, seemed to be close to his breaking point.
“Come on,” Dean breathed into the kiss. “You can… You can do better than that.” He wasn’t actually capable of conceptualizing what ‘better’ looked like in that moment, but he sure wanted to find out.
Cas responded with a soft noise that sounded almost like a rumbling, growling groan, his other hand quickly moving to brace himself against Dean as he sped up his movements. As he did, his hand landed nearly perfectly on the handprint scar he’d left on Dean’s shoulder when he’d raised him from perdition.
With a gasp, his back arched off the table, his eyes suddenly wide open. He felt like he’d been struck by lightning. Suddenly a dozen new sensations were coursing through him, the edges of his mind and body blurring and giving way to what he could only describe as everything. He felt like if he just reached a little farther, he could find the answers in his mind to all the questions he’d never dared ask.
And the sensation. God, the sensation.
It felt like Cas’s experiences were mingled with his, his pleasured and adoration and intensity swirled into his own. Everything felt heightened; overwhelming him completely. It was all-consuming, all powerful, and it made him feel like he was floating.
And then he got his first proper look at Cas.
He was glowing, the edges of his body outlined by a blue light that matched the one in his eyes, which now seemed more external than internal. Framing his head were several halos, shifting and indistinct and trading places with each other in a way that would’ve defied comprehension at any other time.
But most importantly were his wings.
An absolutely enormous pair of wings sprawled behind Cas, moving as he moved. The feathers were black, but the undersides rippled with every color imaginable. Every time they shifted the colors would shift as well, dancing from red to blue to yellow to purple and everything in between. They were absolutely mesmerizing.
The second he spotted the wings, Dean wanted to touch them, to run his fingers through the feathers, and the fact that his hands were tied above his head suddenly seemed like an immense cruelty.
You can see me, Cas’s voice echoed in his head, sounding as vast and as deep as the night sky.
They would’ve been extremely alarming at any other point in time. But right then, his only response was to send back, You’re beautiful.
When Dean slipped his hands free of the tie, Castiel seemed about to protest, even beginning with a What are- before Dean’s fingers were buried in his wings. And then all protest gave way to an intense burst of pleasure through their shared bond.
Feels good?
The reply came through emphatically. Yes.
Dean buried his fingers deeper into the colorful feathers, running his nails along the base of his wings. Castiel cried out, his back arching as his eyes seared blue and his head fell back.
And then pure bliss was pulsing through their shared bond as Castiel was tipped over the edge, taking Dean with him. His vision whited out into pure light as Castiel continued to ride him through it, painting both their stomachs with cum, his wings trembling beneath his touch. And for a moment, the only thing he could think about was Cas.
He loved him.
And then the orgasm slowly faded, and he found himself with Castiel still sitting above him, gripping his bicep like he was unwilling to let go. The glow in his eyes had faded a bit, but not entirely, and his breath was coming in heavy, long, shuddering breaths. He looked completely wrecked, and Dean was incredibly tempted to leave kisses across every inch of exposed skin.
Instead, he just cupped the back of Cas’s neck with one hand, pulling him down into a slow, sweet kiss. His free arm slid around his waist, pulling him down on top of him so they were lying chest-to-chest. Cas’s body was warm against his own, and he could feel his chest rising and falling as they lay there.
Eventually, Cas broke the kiss, placing one more on Dean’s cheek before carefully removing his hand from his bicep and propping himself up against the table instead.
Cas?
No response.
When Dean opened his eyes, he expected all of the angelic trappings of Cas to once again be gone. And for the most part, they were. The angel glow and halo had vanished, along with the rainbow tones of Cas’s wings. However, the black feathers remained, as did the wings they were attached to.
“How come I can still see your wings?” His voice came out a bit hoarse when he spoke, and he reached up to lightly brush the feathers with the tips of his fingers.
Cas hummed thoughtfully, studying Dean’s face. “You must have a bit of grace in you now.”
Dean sat up fast enough that Cas had to swerve to avoid his head hitting his nose. “Wait, isn’t that kind of dangerous?”
“Not in that small of an amount. If anything, it probably just means you’ll heal a bit fast. I might be able to hear you a bit more clearly when you pray. If we do this again-”
“Make that ‘when’.” Dean wasn’t sure of much right then that he wasn’t going to have a long crisis about later, but he definitely knew that he wanted to do that again.
Cas gave him a little smile, settling onto Dean’s lap. “Fine, when we do this again, something similar might happen to this time.”
“And what was… that, exactly?”
“Sex?”
“No, I mean,” Dean waved his hand vaguely, “the whole ‘I can see your halo’ thing.”
“Oh. That, I don’t entirely know.”
“Should we be worried about that?”
Cas hesitated. “...Probably not.”
Dean shrugged. He did stuff that felt good and was horrible for him almost constantly, at least this one was a ‘maybe’ on the consequences.
“Works for me.”
Cas glanced down at Dean’s chest, then at the table. “We should probably clean all this up before your brother returns.”
“Fine. But then I’m dragging you to my room and we’re spending the rest of Valentine’s Day in bed.”
“Mmm, I suppose that does seem appropriate for the holiday. Moreso than your… unattached drifters, did you call them?”
“Yeah yeah, shut up.” Still, Dean found himself smiling in spite of himself. “And you’re gonna heal however you fucked up my back tomorrow morning, right?”
“Of course, Dean.”
“Then let’s hurry up and get the cleanup over with.”
When Sam would leave his room a few hours later, he’d find the large table in the main room suspiciously clean, and Dean and Cas conspicuously missing.
He would do his research elsewhere for a while.