Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: NC-17 (MA)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Dean was not at all accustomed nor particularly comfortable with being the center of attention. Not like this, not stripped down emotionally with his inadequacies laid bare to Castiel's intense focus. Written to fill a prompt for wing!kink and bottom!Dean.
When Cas slammed the door of their motel room behind him, Dean knew he was in trouble. They'd dropped Sam off at the local watering hole a few blocks away, but all Dean had wanted at that point was some sleep. It'd been a rough case wrangling a nasty revenant and Dean was feeling stupid for letting it take advantage of him during the melee; Cas had had to drop in and save his ass as well as Sam's.
It seemed that Castiel was all too aware of that fact.
"You could have been killed," he began in a deadly flat voice, advancing slowly toward the other man. There was a dangerous spark in his cool, level gaze. It made the flesh along Dean's spine perk up and pay attention, had him backing up unconsciously until his shoulders hit the doorframe to the bathroom. "You are fatigued, in no state to take on creatures that powerful. What were you thinking?"
Dean opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out were little aborted squawks when Cas started to pull at the knot of his perpetually skewed tie. His eyes followed the deft movements of Cas' fingers and his mouth felt Sahara dry.
"Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?" the angel questioned in a voice dripping with fury and laced with frustration. Met with only tense, adrenaline-filled silence, Castiel's gaze darkened then glowed white hot for a split second and Dean squinted against the light. When he looked at Cas full on again he felt his face go slack as he took in the smudgy, dark shapes quivering at the angel's back. Blinking, they solidified into sharp, sable wings. Fucking actual wings. He didn't have a lot of time to react as Cas crowded him against the wall, his wings flaring out threateningly.
"You don't realize how close you came to being killed today," Cas continued, bringing his seething features inches from Dean's and curving his wings to brush the wall on either side. His wingspan was so large the tips were feet away from him, but they felt suffocatingly close. "The apocalypse has been averted; Heaven no longer has any need for you. You can't count on any resurrections, not anymore."
A hard lump squatted in Dean's throat as he watched the pinion feathers rattle and shiver. All he wanted to do was reach out and smooth them over, let his fingers lace between and hush them. He could feel Cas' breath on his lips and closed his eyes helplessly for a moment as heat rippled under his skin, across his shoulder blades, stitching out across his flesh his own wings of terrified desire. And fuck if that didn't make him even hotter under the collar.
"You don't take care of yourself," Cas whispered hotly, desperately, and the feathers seemed to still, no longer exuding livid energy. A searing brush of lips against lips tingled and burned with dry sparks and Dean lost it, slamming his eyes shut and surging forward, grabbing for the other man's lapels, crashing their lips together. A few moments of heated bliss and then Castiel tore himself away. "You're not taking this seriously, Dean," he snapped with renewed anger. He fisted his hands in Dean's shirt and pulled the hunter forward, only to slam him back against the wall. "I could have lost you today, and that is not acceptable!" he shouted and Dean could see the wrath and bone-deep worry in the lines around his eyes. "You will learn your worth, Dean."
He felt himself being pulled from the wall again and the next thing he knew he was flat on his back on the cheap and squeaky motel mattress, caged in by warm, dry feathers rasping along his arms. Cas was straddling his lap, ripping away at the t-shirt stretched across Dean's broad chest, his wings forming a cloak that settled over them both in iridescent waves of inky black. He tried to move his arms to Cas' waist, but was met with resistance from the plumed appendages that seconds later turned into forceful movements that had Dean on his stomach, pantsless, before he knew what was happening.
"Cas—" he croaked out before the angel's warm, rough hands came up to cover his mouth and settle at the base of his throat.
"This is a lesson, Dean. Students do not speak during lectures."
Dean couldn't help the desperate groan that slipped from his lips as Castiel bent to nip at his ear. Neither of them was wearing clothes now, and Dean could feel both Cas' arousal, heavy in the small of his back, and his own, catching maddeningly in the fabric beneath his hips no matter how he twisted.
"You, Dean Winchester, have incalculable worth." Lips trailed across his shoulders and down his spine, kissing possession and fierce belief into his skin. "To me, to your brother, to all whose lives you have saved and their loved ones. Bobby loved you, Ellen loved you, Joanna loved you. Your father and mother loved you unconditionally," Cas continued, punctuating each with a kiss to the skin of his back. His hands skirted along Dean's sides and his wings wrapped both of them in a heated embrace. The last he whispered into the nape of his neck. "You are loved."
The breath caught in Dean's throat, entirely unconnected to the lust thrumming through his veins. It came out in a burst as he felt Cas' erection rubbing between his legs. Slowly, Cas sat back on his haunches and palmed each cheek. All his weight was on the backs of Dean's thighs. Dean brought his arms up and made to move, wanting to spin around and grab Castiel by the shoulders and kiss him silent with his own desperation. Alas, this didn't seem to be in the cards as he was thumped in the back by a heavy, hollow weight; Cas was pinning him down with the broad flats of his wings.
"You're not allowed to leave the class early, Dean."
Dean sighed, though it came out more as a moan, as he relaxed back into the mattress, foiled for the moment. Sex with them was usually about releasing their tension and arousal in a fast-paced, hard exertion; Dean was not at all accustomed nor particularly comfortable with being the center of attention. Not like this, not stripped down emotionally with his inadequacies laid bare to Castiel's intense focus. He shivered with the sensation of all his wounds open to the air but Cas' warm wing trailed across his shoulders, chasing the chill away and leaving Dean nothing but a panting mess of emotions and desire.
At some point Dean had checked out, but his mind came sprinting back when he felt slick fingers firmly swirling and seeking entrance. He bit his lip as one worked its way in and a moaning sort of grunt worked its way out of his throat. He couldn't keep his hips still even if he wanted to, but Cas didn't seem fazed and diligently continued to open Dean to his inquisitive fingers.
The slender digit stroked him from the inside, leaving what Dean imagined were swipes of flame as white as Cas' angelic presence everywhere it touched, gouging out channels of pleasure from Dean's nerves. His hands were fisted in the sheets, but his own fingers went lax when Cas' found the spot that always make him shake apart and soon Dean was panting into the starched cotton under him with three fingers inside him.
"What would happen if one day I couldn't get to you in time?" Cas questioned against the space between his shoulders as he withdrew his hands. There was a slight waver in his scratchy baritone and Dean's breath hitched in response. "You haven't an inkling of what that would do to me. I can't lose you, Dean. It would slay me. I would be as good as dead." Dean could hear all of the same love and responsibility he felt for his brother in Cas' confession but there was something else there. Something more. Something deep and visceral that pulled at the strings behind his navel and made him feel light-headed.
And then Castiel himself was entreating entry, sliding home solidly, steadily. One hand was at the dip above Dean's left hip, the other in the curve of where his neck met shoulder; Cas filled every negative space Dean had with claws, calves, chest, and cock. Even his lungs contracted, squeezing their air out and collapsing so that there was no space inside of him empty. And when he began to move, electricity sparked up Dean's spine with every movement against his prostate.
"Do you understand the lesson I'm trying to teach you?" Cas panted as the speed of his thrusts increased. Each plunge hammered more pleasure and adoration into the base of his spine like drugs from an epidural and all Dean could do was groan in response.
Stiffened flight feathers slipped under his hips and lifted so that Cas could grasp Dean's straining erection. Featherlets swiped at the very tip, making Dean convulse with oversensitivity right back into Cas' hips, driving him deeper, straight into his prostate. That was all it took for Dean to come crashing into orgasm, keening. He spilled his release in between Cas' fingers onto the sheets below. There was a brief respite from the pounding he was taking from behind while Cas stroked him through his climax and he went boneless. In the next moment, his world tilted as the wings slid under his chest and brought him up on his knees, his back to Cas' chest as the other man redoubled his efforts. Sweat plastered the feathers against his skin and Dean felt hot, too hot. The angel was losing rhythm as he chased his pleasure in whatever direction it ran but it was only a minute more before the fingers at Dean's hips tightened, almost painfully sensual, and Cas hilted himself completely. A further liquid warmth spread through his core as Cas came shaking inside him, biting at the juncture of Dean's neck and shoulder.
The wings holding him up released him and he fell on all fours before he fell all the way to the bed with Cas behind him. He rolled onto his back and for the first time in what felt like forever and yet moments he was allowed to see Castiel: his dark eyes, mussed hair, swollen lips. One of his favorite sights was Cas debauched like this. Cas leaned in for a long, deep kiss and Dean sighed. Using the last of his strength, he lifted his left arm and Cas took the cue to nose underneath, coming up flush to his side and draping one raven wing over them. Dean dropped a kiss to his companion's forehead and tightened his arm above the joining of skin and feather.
There was silence for a long moment as their breathing normalized. It was Cas who broke it.
"I… was quite serious, Dean." He shifted so he could look him directly in the eye. There was no mirth there, no teasing. "You have to promise me that you'll take better care of yourself. If not for you, then for me and Sam." He looked down at Dean's chest. "I find myself extremely distressed even contemplating what might have transpired had I been even moments longer…" Dean stopped the flow of words with his lips.
"I get that you were worried. I guess I can promise that I'll try to be more careful. For you."
Cas nuzzled against Dean's breast contentedly. "That's all I ask."