"Cas."

Wrists to forehead, he's on his knees. Begging. Has been for the past four hours.

"Please," whining know, such a pet, "Cas."

I haven't moved to touch him in the last four hours, he has no idea I'm here, not a single sliver of knowledge that I've been watching over him almost since he started praying, it only took 4 minutes and 23 seconds of his soft voice whispering in my mind all the things he wanted me to do to him before I caved. I was by his side in moments.

He doesn't know that though. He made me wait six days, made me leave to find the answers he needed so bad for his latest case. And then just called for me, begged for me to come home to him, for his pleasure and his alone.

In the back of his mind I can hear him thinking of all the things he will do to me, all the pleasure he wants me to feel, so maybe it's not all for him, but he's sure as hell acting like it.

"Oh, please, please Cas. Please, come home," his stammering heart is picking up pace and his lungs are wheezing too little air, "I need you."

'I love you'.

His mind is echoing his need through my mind, he's so close. So close to saying the words he knows will bring me to my knees, but too lost in lust to remember the effect they have, too far gone to know that I've been here, waiting for his consent, for four hours. This all could have ended hours ago if he could just remember.

"My God. My Castiel."

I'm gone. I'm at his side, stroking his sweaty hair, hushing into his cheek.

"My Dean. My Pet."

He's so close to tears. He's spent the last four hours working himself up without a single touch to calm him, just sat there patiently, waiting for me. I can feel the muscles in his arms and shoulders working in overdrive to keep his hands away from his aching need.

'Don't touch me.'

His mind whispers another prayer, begging me to let him be for a moment, so I step away, back to my position of watching, letting him calm himself down with the knowledge that I'm here, that I'll give him what he needs, as always.

His soft body, the muscles of his back, his slightly chubby stomach leading to his not so hard center. I don't mind watching a few moments longer.

Gasp, "I've been waiting," gasp, "for hours." Gasp.

I'm immediately in his personal space again, my dick between his cheeks, one hand pulling his head back to me, the other roughly grabbing at his hard and literally throbbing member.

"I've been watching," I force his face towards mine so I'm licking his lips, "for hours."

I throw his head forward, forcing his face back towards his clasped hands. "Pray for me, Pet."

I can't be gentle right now, knowing it will be too much, knowing he needs it rough, needs me rough.

He's ready, I seen it in his mind three hours and twenty-six minutes ago. Seen him prepare himself for me, watched as he fingered himself for me, watched him whimper his want. So I don't need to wait any longer.

I'm home, balls deep in my own personal heaven that I truly am the God of, whispering words of praise to every prayer he sends me.

It takes two thrusts.

And he's gone. Sobbing against my arms that I've wrapped around him, holding my hands in his as he tries to pull himself together.

His tears on my wrists are the last thing I feel before it's complete bliss, before my orgasm stabs through everything and sends my mind through a downward spiral.

My mind rewires itself at the sound of his voice, still sobbing out my name, still clinging to me in desperate need.

"Cas."

'Please.'

His soul is blinding me through his prayers, his big open soul pulling me down to earth completely all over again.

I know what he wants, what he needs. And who am I to deny him. I am no God, no matter how much he believes that I am his.

"I love you too, Dean."

And he knows I'm truly home.