Dean's eyes are focused completely on Cas as he slips around the doorframe and into Dean's dark room. Dean rubs his eyes and he's not really sure what the angel-ex-angel, whatever-is doing here. Cas doesn't make it a habit of coming into Dean's room in the middle of the night, but he doesn't look upset or in mortal danger. He's got Dean stumped.
It's then that Dean notices that Cas isn't wearing the trench coat. In fact, he's dressed in something that looks suspiciously like flannel pajama pants, and as Dean's eyes adjust more to the dim lighting, he can see that he's not wearing a shirt. He almost doesn't look like Cas, but Dean relishes all of the bare skin that's bared to his eyes. He immediately chastises himself. Cas is his friend, and one of the only one's that he's still got left alive. No way is he going to screw that up by being a horny creep.
Cas probably isn't even into guys. Dean isn't even really into guys. But he's sure as hell into Cas, when Cas probably isn't into anybody.
It gives Dean a headache, and maybe an ache somewhere else, too, to think about it. Fuck.
"Dean?" Cas's voice is raspy and hesitant; nervous, almost. Dean groans and sits up, rubbing his eyes and scrubbing a hand through his eyes, trying to orientate himself some more. He's not wearing much either. Just boxers. He props himself up on one arm, peering at Cas. Cas has got his hands clutched in front of him, but they're just clasped there, not fidgeting or anything.
"What's up, Cas?" Dean asks gruffly. "What's goin' on? Who's hurt?" Cas's hair is ruffled and messy, in a different way than normally. It's like he'd been trying to sleep on it, and it occurrs to Dean that he's never seen Cas look like he'd actually been sleeping, though he knows that he did it now that he wasn't an angel anymore. An ex-angel. Dean still can't bring himself to think of Cas as human.
"No one's hurt," Cas answers, and he moves closer to the bed. The faint light from the hall highlights the hollow of his throat, the deliciously-pale slope of his shoulder that Dean wants to bite, the ridges of muscle on his chest and stomach that Dean would give fucking anything for if Cas would let him trace them with his tongue. "I couldn't sleep."
Now Dean sits up straighter, confused and almost annoyed. As much as he wants to be there for Cas, hell, a man's gotta sleep, too. He closes his eyes briefly then snaps them back open, because crap, that feels too good and he's afraid that he'll just go back to sleep and never get Cas sorted out. With a deep breath, he sits up completely against the headboard.
"You couldn't sleep?" he asks incredulously. For a second, he thinks that he can see a blush stain Cas's cheeks, but then his friend looks down and the darkness settles over his skin, hiding it from Dean. That's almost enough to piss Dean off. He wants to see every bit of Cas's skin that he possibly can. Anything less is a crime.
Cas is standing there, shy and sleepy and casual, his skin pale and taught over beautiful muscles, and Dean never thought that he could be this gay. All he can think in his half-asleep, though quickly-awakening, state of mind is how good Cas would look completely wrecked and needy in Dean's sheets. He gives himself a mental slap on the wrist. There is no way that is happening. For so many different reasons, the first being that Cas is not into him and the final one being that even if he was, Dean wouldn't deserve something as perfect as fucking Cas.
God. What a great word to hear next to Cas's name. Fucking Cas.
He's got an erection and he's really thankful for those aforementioned sheets.
"Yes," Cas says, completely oblivious to Dean's torn-up state. "My mind won't stop…thinking and I think I'm…thirsty."
"You can fix thirst," Dean tells him, rolling his eyes and praying for his hard-on to go away. He really would like to go back to sleep. One in the morning is not the time to be dealing with wanting to fuck your best friend.
Dean tries desperately not to dwell on what banging Cas would be like.
"Go get some water," he advises, and Cas turns away. He's back out the door before Dean knows exactly what's happening, and so he slides back down until his head's on his pillow again. He's got no clue if Cas is coming back or not. And at this point, sleep is sounding better and better, even with his cock throbbing between his thighs.
He's almost asleep, floating in that hazy dimension between dreaming and waking, when he distantly hears footsteps, then a voice.
"Dean? I got water, like you said. I still don't think I can sleep, though."
Dean groans vicious andrears up, a hand smacked over his eyes to soothe the rapidly building pulse behind them. His erection still hasn't gone away, and he's so frustrated with everything that he's about ready to smash his bedside lamp.
"Cas," he says. "I am tired. Please. I'm begging you, man. Help me out here."
"I cannot sleep," Cas says, and he sounds defensive now. "It's not my fault, Dean." Dean groans again and then flops back down, body heavy. Why does Cas have to look so damn good? Why does he have to wake Dean up so damn late? Why does Dean have to be so damn tired?
"No," he agrees, but he's still annoyed and he's still out of his head. He's been up since five and even though he knows that he can sleep in tomorrow, he was really hoping to be able to actually sleep during the night. Erections and insomniac best friends prevent that.
He scoots over to the far edge of the bed and lifts up the covers. They drape over his arm like a singular wing, and he has the bizarre thought that Cas must miss his.
"Climb on in," he says, even though it feels like suicide. Dean also knows that he has self-control, and that there's nothing wrong with having Cas so close to him as long as he can control himself. He'd never push himself on Cas, no matter how insane he was feeling. Never, ever, and so he's just hoping that this really will be something that eases him and gives him something to think about later in the shower, rather than something that keeps him awake and hard all night.
Cas slips under the sheets like there's nothing unusual about the whole thing, and that's a relief for Dean. He doesn't need Cas making a big deal out of something that he could just as easily forgo and leave Dean in peace to sleep. He can't decide if he wants to sleep more, or feel Cas's mouth around his cock.
Shit, don't think about that, shit.
His dick's so hard in his pants that it's leaking down his leg.
In his defense though, Cas does have perfect lips for cock-sucking. Dean does his best not to notice, and rolls over so that his back is facing Cas and he doesn't have to stare at those lips. Or the eyes, or the just-fucked hair, or the pale skin that would probably taste like moonlight and cream if he ever got to lick it. He ignores the fact that Cas smells great.
When hot, bare skin presses up against his back, he goes stiff as a board. His cock is weeping and Dean has to physically resist the urge to palm it through his boxers. He takes a few deep breaths until he's sure that his voice is going to be steady when he speaks.
"Cas," he says. "What the hell are you doing?" Cas's back is muscular as hell-he can feel it in scorching detail against his own-and fuck if it isn't a huge turn-on for Dean. It reminds him that Cas is strong, and no matter how naïve he might act sometimes, he really can handle himself if a situation goes bad.
"Getting comfortable," Cas mumbles.
"Well, could you please…not?" Dean asks. Cas gives a little sigh, and then Dean is cold again, the skin gone. He rolls over, wrist brushing his dick which feels amazing, and nestles his head into the pillow. Exhausted, his hand is halfway down to his aching cock before he even realizes it. He stops abruptly, and then pulls it back up discreetly. He folds his hand beneath his head and under his pillow to staunch any further subconscious temptation.
He's totally unprepared for the leg that hooks over his own and the face that buries itself in the mattress beside his arm. Cas's thigh brushes his hard cock and Cas stops moving at the same time that Dean stops breathing entirely.
"Dean," Cas says, and his voice holds a note of questioning in it even though it's not one. Dean keeps his eyes closed and bites his lip, keeping his hips still as he lets out a long groan.
"Cas," he growls. "I swear to God, don't move anymore." He hasn't been this primed in forever, and he's afraid that if Cas shifts even a little bit, if he touches him anymore at all, that he'll come in his pants like a goddamn teenager.
"Dean, you're hard," Cas says, as if he thinks Dean doesn't know or something.
"I know," Dean grits out, grinding his teeth. His eyes are still squeezed shut as he tries to keep his breathing regulated. It's not an easy feat, not when Cas feels so good all pressed up against him.
"Is it because of me?" Cas asks, and while he's not curious, he asks like he wants to know. Dean nods because he knows that Cas is looking at him, and he's unable to say anything. What's he going to do otherwise? Cas isn't stupid; he knows that humans get aroused by what they're attracted to. Dean's in a pretty bad state and it's not helped by what Cas says next. "You find me…arousing?" He sounds almost aroused himself and Dean isn't sure what do about that other than nod and try to shift away from Cas without brushing against him again.
He fails miserably, because he brushes against Ca's cock. On the bright side, while he gasps and lets out a shameful whimper, he doesn't come. It's not like Cas is hard or anything, but he's clearly not wearing underwear. And he's so big.
"Cas," he gasps. "Sorry, just-just give me a minute here, please, okay? Otherwise it's not gonna be pretty." His dick is so hard he's in pain, actual literal, physical pain, precum soaking his boxers, and Cas is just laying there cool as a cucumber, like nothing is wrong and Dean's not burning up inside. He opens his eyes finally, and finds a surprising amount of heat in Cas's eyes. The ex-angel's tongue flicks out to swipe over his lower lip and Dean's eyes track the movement.
It takes him a moment before he realizes that Cas is aware of that.
He licks his lips again and they curve into a secret smile. Dean fists his hands so that he won't stroke his cock. This is turning into a worse disaster the longer and longer he lays here and he needs to get up or send Cas away, but he can't. He's too focused on Cas's pretty pink lips and his tongue and imagining how those lips and that tongue would feel wrapped around his dick. He throws the sheet off of him in a desperate attempt to cool down, and that takes it away from Cas, too.
Cas is hard.
Dean is entranced and he knows that Cas is watching him stare at his cock, but it's really something to stare at. The head of it rises about Cas's pajama pants, glistening and flushed. He can see the entire outline as it strains against the waistband. Cas's name is a strangled, mangled thing when it escapes Dean's mouth, but it's the best he can do.
"Will you let me touch you?" Cas asks. It breaks Dean apart and he's a frantic, pleading mess as he reaches for Cas desperately.
"Please, please, please, Cas. Oh, God," he rambles. Cas tosses the sheet farther down to the end of the bed and pulls Dean's boxers gently down his thighs. Dean watches the entire thing, taking in the scene, committing it to memory. Cas's dark hair tangled and ruffled, his bright eyes glazed with lust, skin flushing with desire. Once he's gotten Dean's boxers down off of his body, Dean jerks Cas up by his shoulders and pulls him into a kiss.
He slides his tongue into Cas's mouth, wasting no time. Cas's hands move along his body, rubbing down his biceps and stomach and finally gripping his ass. Dean moans into the other man's mouth, tangling his fingers in Cas's messy hair. Their chests press together and Dean's skin heats until he thinks that he is going to catch fire. He thinks that Cas is going to light him on fire.
Cas gradually pulls his lips away from Dean's, despite Dean's protests, and trails them down his body. Dean wonders how in the hell Cas learned how to make him feel this good. Do they give lessons on this shit in Heaven? Is that a thing?
When he gets to Dean's dick, he gasps and Dean feels a streak of pride. To impress Cas, that was something that he hasn't realized that he wants so badly. Cas's eyes are wide and almost innocent, and it is so fucking arousing. His lips are parted and Dean arches his hips, trying to get his dick closer to them. He can imagine it already, how Cas's tongue will stroke over his slit, how his lips will surround his shaft. Dean whimpers, willing to beg for it, lips parting to do just that, when Cas whispers his name like a prayer and swipes his tongue over the head of his cock.
Dean cries out, back arching, muscles shaking. He collapses back to the bed, trying desperately not to come. He doesn't want it to end too soon. He wants this to go on forever, and as Cas swallows him down, taking half of his dick into his mouth, Dean's thoughts blank for just a moment. Then they're back in full force, screaming in color and vibrancy.
Cas is looking at him, never taking his eyes off of him as he gives Dean the best blowjob of his life. It's pretty much the hottest thing Dean's ever seen.
"Cas," he pants. "Shit. Look so fuckin' pretty sucking my cock. You don't know how bad I've wanted this for so long. Dreamed about it, baby. About how you'd look on your knees for me, then stretched out over my bed." Cas moans on Dean's dick, spiking the pleasure, and he closes his eyes for the first time since he started.
His tongue swirls around the head as he pulls back, then goes down again. He moves like that for a while, eyes opening again to watch Dean as his head falls back and his own eyes close. He has to resist the urge to fuck into Cas's mouth. Cas gags slightly on him as he tries to take him even deeper and Dean smoothes a hand through the ex-angel's, not wanting him to strain himself. What he's doing for Dean is working just fine. Better than fine, really. It's fucking fantastic, and Dean almost spills himself into Cas's mouth before he remembers not to.
"Stop!" he gasps, startling Cas. "Cas, baby, you have to stop, I'm gonna come." When Cas doesn't get off his dick fast enough, Dean grips his hair firmly and pulls his mouth away. It feels like ripping off his own arm but he does it, because when he comes, he wants it to be inside Cas.
"You could've came," Cas says, and Dean almost laughs; Cas sounds like a pouty child who didn't get his candy. "I would've liked it."
That sucks all of the humor right out of Dean, because here is Cas saying that Dean could have came in his mouth, and Cas would have fucking enjoyed it. He's changed his mind; that is the hottest thing ever. He slams his lips to Cas's, savoring the feel, and he almost can't believe that this is happening, but he's going to enjoy it while it is. He rubs his hands down Cas's back, the feeling of smooth, hot skin stretched over taut muscles is intoxicating. There's nothing in the world better than this, not classic rock or pie or anything.
He shoves Cas back flat onto the mattress and places a hand on his chest when he tries to sit back up. Dean reaches into the drawer of his nightstand and snatches the bottle of lube. Cas's eyes widen fractionally at the sight and Dean pauses, suddenly unsure.
"This is okay, right?" he asks, gesturing vaguely with the bottle. "Because we don't have to do anything that you don't want to do."
"No," Cas says immediately. "No, Dean. I want to. Please." His voice is soft and perfect and Dean's cock is leaking against his stomach.
He stretches Cas out first, carefully, giving him a single finger, then two, then three, until Dean's sure that he can take him. He never wants to cause Cas any pain. That's not what he wants him to remember about tonight. Cas moans, thrusting his hips against Dean's hand as he thrashes, his head rolling back and forth. His eyes are closed, lashes fanning out under his eyes beautifully. He's so hot and tight around Dean's fingers that he could come just from imagining it around his cock.
When he pulls away, Cas moans in protest and pushes his hips forward, trying to keep Dean from taking his fingers away. Dean soothes him as best he can, fisting his dick. Cas jerks and gasps when Dean presses the head of it against Cas's entrance, hissing and cursing. He pushes in and as ready as Cas is, he's even tighter, and the glide is rougher than Dean would have liked it to be. But Cas doesn't seem to be in any pain. Quite the opposite, in fact. He's rolling his hips and moaning, hair sticking to his forehead. He's beautiful, Dean thinks simply.
"Dean," he whines. "You feel so good in me." Dean thrusts forward into him harder than he means to and Cas gives a groan. Dean mirrors the sound; that felt crazy good. He does it again, and then again, until Cas is coming about at the seams and Dean is balancing on the razor edge. He buries his face in Cas's throat, hands gripping the ex-angel's ass. Cas stares up at him, and Dean is watching as he comes.
Cas's lips part as a cry escapes, his hips slamming down even harder one final time against Dean's, rocking the bed. He doesn't even need to touch his cock to come, and it shoots cum in ropes over his stomach. He;s whimpering and whining and keening, and Dean is helpless to do anything but watch as Cas comes all over himself.
Dean jets inside of Cas a moment later, too turned on and exhausted to do much else. Panting, they lay tangled up in each, sweaty limbs melded together. Dean doesn't mind the stickiness that his stomach picks up from Cas's, but he knows that they'll have a lot of cleaning up to do in the morning. He never wants morning to come. He strokes Cas's hair as his angel calms down, and Dean realizes that that was everything that he had hoped it would be. And more. Cas has surpassed every dream and expectation that Dean's ever had, so he tells him so.
Cas's eyes are sleepy, but they brighten at Dean's words. He cuddles in closer to him, and Dean has no argument against that, that's for damn sure. Cas can cuddle with him any day of the week from now on, as long as he never gives up on Dean.
"Think you can go to sleep now?" Dean asks. Cas grins and the affection that it sparks in Dean's chest is unexpected.
"I think so," Cas says, and Dean's already almost halfway asleep himself.