Inspired by this post (diminuel dot tumblr dot com slash post/147334725620/part-1-inspired-by-that-ask-you-posted-a-lil) and by diminuel's Naga!Dean 'verse. diminuel is SillyBlue on AO3.

An anon wrote a post to diminuel about Cas finding something...unusual...left outside his door and it got me thinking all kinds of naughty things so here, have a ficlet meant as a follow-up/continuation to that story (I hope you don't mind anon, it's because I loved the start you made and because I've been enjoying the naga!verse art and want diminuel to continue!).

(this is Destiel, A/B/O, bottom Cas/top Dean, omega Cas/alpha Dean, angel Cas/naga Dean; but this story is Cas-turbation...and, uh, some Dean-sturbation, too...sex toys, fantasizing, pining, Dean has two dicks cause he's a naga, crap, I don't even know what this is but it got a little long...suggestions of knotting, wing kink, snake kink?, come inflation, and other stuff...)

This is unedited, I just threw it together cause it was eating my brain and I couldn't resist. This probably means the last chapter of Disconnected will be delayed by a day. Sorry about that...it should be out by Friday, though, if not sooner.

Note that this all probably makes more sense if you read anon's original drabble, but since it's basically PWP it's probably intelligible without doing so? The link to the drabble is in the header. :)

Cheeks flaming, Dean slithered around a corner out of sight as soon as he knocked on Castiel's door. It was tough, being married without being able to consummate. He and Castiel had been together for months, but they hadn't been together, not once. They hadn't even shared a bed. Dean was under no illusions that their marriage was anything other than a political convenience. Castiel liked him well enough, they got along, he liked to believe that Castiel considered him a friend, even, but they were not intimate, however much Dean might like to be. Usually, that wasn't a problem. Usually, that didn't bother him. But with the smell of Castiel's heat leaking through the locked door separating his rooms from Castiel's? It was driving him just a little bit crazy. Not crazy enough to cause him to do something inappropriate, such as force his husband to a mating that Castiel didn't desire, but crazy enough that his skin itched with a false rut - crazy enough that he had to do something.

He'd had the dildo made for Castiel anyway, after all. What better time to deliver it than while Castiel was in heat? Since Dean couldn't help his husband through this difficult time - they were spouses, not mates, spouses, not mates, he reminded himself over and over again - the least he could do was provide Castiel the tools to get through it comfortably. Dean had helped Castiel unpack when he arrived; he knew Castiel didn't have anything to help him masturbate.

And if the dildo in question happened to be an exact replica of one of Dean's two cocks?

Well, Castiel didn't need to know that and Dean had a lifetime of masturbation fodder imagining Castiel using the toy. Since the chances that they'd ever actually touch seemed slim, it was better than nothing.

He listened from around the corner, heard Castiel ask who had knocked on his door, heard the door open, a long pause, then heard the door shut. Briefly, he smelled the honey-sweet smell of the angel's heat, but that faded quickly when the hallway was deserted once again. Sneaking a glance around the corner, he saw the door locked tight once more, the hallway empty of people, and the dildo gone.

Smiling happily at the thought that Castiel had accepted the gift, Dean went to find something to distract himself from his budding arousal.

The problem with using knife fighting to distract himself, Castiel realized far too late, was that it exhausted his body without doing anything to fatigue his mind. He'd thought that would enable him to sleep - in previous heats, it had - but this was his first heat as a married man and apparently that had him thinking all kinds of wrong things. As he lay down to sleep that night, wings tucked against his back, lying on his stomach, his mind raced even as his tired body ached for touch.

...Dean's hands on my skin...

...Dean's tail wrapped around my legs...

...Dean's tongue lapping at my slick...

The more such thoughts plagued him, the hotter his body grew, the more he leaked, the more damp his sheets grew. Slick and sweat made a tantalizing combination, amplified whenever he caught a whiff of the musky-dry odor of Dean sleeping just next door.

...I could ask him for help...

...he's my husband...

That wasn't the nature of their relationship, though. The marriage was arranged. Sure, they'd both consented to it, both agreed to it, and their home life was amicable but the contract had been finalized for political reasons. There'd never been any thought that the two would actually consummate the relationship. Indeed, based on things that Castiel's brethren had said before he left, he suspected they found the idea that an angel and a naga might mate to be unnatural. Deviant, even. Once, Castiel supposed he might have agreed. However, that was before he got to know Dean and his family, before he lived among the naga. They were good people, kind people, hard working and as devoted to peace as the naga were. And Dean, despite his rough edges, was a good man, one of the best that Castiel had ever met. No, he could no longer support the idea that it would be inappropriate for him to have physical relations with his husband. In fact, he rather wanted to.

If I knocked, would he answer?

It was wrong to think of it, though, wrong to act while he was in heat especially. What if, when his hormones died down, he reflected and realized he'd not wanted to be with Dean after all? Not only would he be miserably unhappy, it'd be cruel to Dean as well.

Round and round his thoughts went until he could no longer handle tossing and turning in his increasingly damp, unpleasant bed. With a frustrated sigh, he rose and paced his room.

His eyes fell on the dildo sitting upright on his mantle.

Throughout the day he'd moved the dildo around the room, finding it too distracting when it was on the table, on the washstand, anywhere he went often. He'd tried hiding it in the nightstand drawer but he still knew it was there, and when it was out of sight he found he thought about it even more. To help think on other things, he'd moved it to over the fireplace and relegated it to being nothing but another decoration for the room.

Looking at it now, he saw nothing decorative about it. Heat flared through his body at the thought of what he could do with that toy. Using a dildo to get through heats was considered lewd among the angels; a single omega angel in heat, the thinking went, was supposed to meditate and reflect until the heat passed. Before his marriage, Castiel had spent his heats in isolation, trying his best to implement the strategies he'd been taught were appropriate behavior, masturbating with fingers in his ass and a hand wrapped around his cock when he could handle the horny, unpleasant feeling of emptiness no longer.

Castiel wasn't single any longer. He wasn't in Heaven in any longer. He was married and he was alone and he was likely to be alone for every heat for the rest of his life and he was so empty and there was a perfect solution right in front of him.

His feet carried him to the mantle before he consciously realized that he'd decided to go for it. Taking the dildo in his hands, he felt it again. Thick and long, tapering towards the head, ridged every inch or so, it was wonderfully smooth and hard in his hands. The intricate carvings along it - a delicate flower with lobed petals, a tiger, a mint plant, a stick of cinnamon and more - were all things Castiel recognized as, in Naga culture, being associated with increased libido. It was big, frighteningly so, but tempting, so tempting. Earlier, questions about the toy had plagued Castiel - who had left it for him? Why had they left it? - but now only question remained: how would it feel inside of him?

Eying the bed, Castiel dismissed it as an option. His sheets were sodden and gross, and it would be difficult to find a comfortable position with his wings to consider. Castiel stripped hastily, undoing the ties that held his shirt over his back, tugging off his pajama pants. Naked in the chill room, even his heat was not enough to warm him through and he appreciated the faint warmth of the dying fire. Grabbing one of the stools from the seating area before the flames, he settled on it hastily, getting his knees under him. His body thrummed with anticipation, his heartbeat speeding up.

Was he really going to do this?

The dildo was a solid, reassuring, incredibly tempting weight in his hands.

Gods above, yes, he was.

Reaching behind himself, Castiel felt at his hole, loose and wet with heat. His insides seemed to melt as he gave into his desire, a choked sound dying in his throat. Even a single finger brushing meagerly over himself felt so good, but the prospect of having something deeper, having something bigger, was intoxicating. Castiel knew he should wait, knew he should prep himself, but he couldn't make himself do so. With a deep breath that puffed out his chest and prompted his wings to flare, he lifted himself high on his knees, tucked the thick end of the dildo against the cushion of the stool, lined himself up and slowly, slowly lowered himself.

The initial penetration was unremarkable, felt much like the fingers he'd used in the past, but the deeper within himself he took the dildo the more remarkable it felt. His jaw grew increasingly slack, hanging open in wonder; his eyes fluttered open and closed though he saw nothing of the room. It felt good - it felt so good - it felt amazing - oh, wow, how had he gone a lifetime without feeling this? Each ridge caught as his rim, stretched him wider and wider, hard polished wood filling his body as he'd never been filled before. He had been intimidated by it's size by now that it was within him it barely felt like enough, and by the time his slickened ass rested against the hand he wrapped around the base of the dildo, he found himself wishing to his surprise that it was bigger, that there was even more cock to satiate the fire of desire that flared within him.

I wish I knew who left this for me. I would write them a thank you note.

What if it was Dean? What if he made this for me? What if this is what his cock looks like? What if it were him inside of me?

The thought, coupled with the feeling of being stuffed, the idea of being stuffed full by Dean, was delirious. Inhibitions fled, conscious thought fled, embarrassment fled, all that remained was heat and need and the drive to pound himself senseless on Dean's cock. Raising himself up, using his wings for balance, Castiel whimpered as the thickness receded; when he could bare the deprivation no longer, he slammed himself back down, gasping loudly as he was suddenly filled again.

Instinct took over then. Need and heat and slickness and more - more - more, Castiel drove himself hard against the dildo, imagining the feel of scales under his fingers, imagining a sinuous tail holding him immobile, imagining Dean's gruff voice groaning desire in his ear, imagining being pinned, being held, being filled and filled and filled until he lost his mind with it.

"Dean!" he whispered hoarsely, throat dry from panting. "Please, Dean - fill me, breed me, I want you, want you, want..." He groaned, body tightening around the cock driving into him. Would Dean have a knot? Would he be able to feel Dean getting close, stretching him even more? Would he know in that moment how deeply Dean desired him, how powerfully his smell affected his husband, his mate? He wanted to find out. He wanted to touch, to pleasure, wanted to hear the sounds that Dean made when he came.

Castiel's grip slipped on the slickened base of the dildo and, thrusting himself down, he was unexpectedly filled more deeply than he had been yet. The pressure was unbelievable, the ridges of the dildo scraping one after another over a place within him that was beyond sensitive, and it was too much, far too much. He howled as he came, cock spurting thick white before him, wings flaring wide as his back arched.

As powerful as bliss made him, it ebbed suddenly after his orgasm and he went limp, collapsing to the floor beside the stool, dildo still buried deep within him. Breathing hard, he could do nothing but drape his arms and shoulders over the sullied stool, wrap his wings around himself for warmth and shake as after shocks rocked him. His cheeks pinked as he realized what fantasy had driven him to such heights. He was too drowsy to worry about it, though. Eyes slipping shut, he fell asleep yet slouched on the floor. His last thought was to imagine gentle hands draping a blanket around his bare body, a thick tail wrapping him in a tender embrace.

How nice that would be...

Panting, Dean pressed his ear against the door, though Castiel was loud enough that Dean could hear him clearly without needing to do so.

He's calling to me. By the Great Snake, does he want me? Does he desire me as I desire him?

Part of Dean - the part that had his cocks emerging from their protective pocket dripping with pre-come - wanted to burst through the door, pin Castiel against the wall and take his pleasure from the gorgeous angel. What sounds would he make stuffed full? How would he react to having his wings touched? Were his nipples sensitive? How did legs work exactly, anyway? Were they sexual? Dean wanted to know, he wanted to know it all, he wanted to experience it all. However, as hot an horny as he was, he still was enough of a gentleman to refrain. Castiel was in heat. What an omega wanted when they were drunk on hormones did not necessarily bear any relationship to what they wanted normally. Dean wouldn't risk taking Castiel against his will.

But when he's not in heat...clearly we've got something to talk about. Maybe next heat...

Dean's mind filled with images of the angel embraced in the curved folds of Dean's tail, Castiel's wings flared wide as he used them to lift himself up and then drop down on Dean's twinned cocks. With a soft moan of desire, he wrapped a hand around both lengths and jerked himself off, rough and hard, listening to every delicious sound that Castiel made in the next room, imagining that he was responsible for those noises, that Castiel truly wanted him. His knots swelled as Castiel whimpered Dean's name; and when Castiel screamed bliss through his climax, Dean came, choking on nothing, cocks spurting again and again as he imagined filling that gorgeous, slick hole, imagined the sated, happy sounds Castiel would make when Dean came again and again until Castiel was swollen and dripping with it.

Someday, maybe. Someday.

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