A/n: Last fic in the series! Beta'd by outofperdition.
000
Dean never sees it coming.
Or at least, Castiel is fairly certain that he doesn't. Subtlety has never been Castiel's forte, but he feels he's done an excellent job of it since the adventure with the vibrating plug last week. He enjoyed that immensely, even more so after watching how often Dean gave him openings to use the safeword. It's good to know that Dean is willing to back off no matter what, and it made the game much easier for Castiel to sink into knowing he had an out at all times.
As much as he loves being the focus of Dean's teasing attentions, Castiel is eager to discover what it's like to be on the other end of the game. His plan began to form when they passed a specific display table in the Wal-mart, and became fully realized after Dean fucked him over the sink in the restroom. There was something in his eyes as Castiel took his hand and led him back out to the diner, something he clearly wanted to say, but in true Dean fashion it was buried down with all the other emotions he's terrified to let himself feel, or at least say out loud.
So now, Castiel's plan is both to flip the game on Dean, and to coax him to reveal whatever it is he wants to say so badly.
The former angel waited several days for the ideal conditions, which came in the form of Sam finally convincing Kevin to go out for the day. Dean didn't want to go, all too certain the two were going to get up to too much "geek", which means the entire bunker is empty for the day. Castiel is unashamed of his body, but that doesn't mean he wants to play this particular game in front of Sam or Kevin. This is entirely for Dean.
Besides, he thinks they might join forces to murder him if he tries this while they are still in the bunker.
Castiel checks himself in the mirror one last time – there's really very little to check, but he finds he really likes how he looks right now – and then heads towards the kitchen. He can smell bacon frying and hear Dean humming a song by Kansas. The former angel is a little too pleased with himself for being able to recognize the band, if not the song. He's tried very hard to learn for his hunter, but sometimes it's difficult when he really doesn't like some of the music Dean listens to.
The hunter is standing in front of the stove, wearing nothing but a pair of his new jeans, bare feet shifting on the tile as he wiggles around in what is probably supposed to be dancing to his own humming. Castiel means to announce his presence right away, but instead he finds himself just standing in the doorway and watching, a little smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. Dean looks ridiculous, and Castiel cannot imagine being able to love him more than he already does. Somehow, he always manages it.
"Good morning, Dean," Castiel says warmly.
"Mornin', Cas!" Dean throws over his shoulder. His voice is cheerful and it makes Castiel's smile widen. "How do you wa – fuck!"
The fork in Dean's hand clatters to the floor as he turns and takes in Castiel's current state. His mouth gapes open, jaw slack and eyes so wide it's rather comical. Castiel can't help but think of the cartoons he watched last year and how well Dean is imitating them at the moment.
"You... what... Cas!" Dean manages to click his jaw shut, but his eyes are still locked on the rose red, satin panties Castiel is wearing. Those, and nothing else. The hunter's shock is already starting to ease into a deep, burning arousal that sends tingles dancing across Castiel's skin. "How did...?"
Castiel chuckles at Dean's inability to finish a sentence. It's both endearing and incredibly empowering. "When I healed your soul after I pulled you from Hell, you gave me a few of your fondest memories. I believe, while you were in that state, it was your way of repaying me. I never told you before because I knew it would make you uncomfortable." Dean nods dumbly, but he doesn't seem to upset. Castiel knew he wouldn't be. They've shared enough of each other by now that this is nothing. "Most were of Sam, but one of them was your experience with Rhonda Hurley. I thought you might... appreciate this."
"Understatement of the freakin' century," Dean breathes. "Do you have any idea how you look?"
"I have some idea, yes," Castiel says teasingly. He sees Dean's hands twitch and suddenly the hunter is lunging at him, all that single-minded focus zeroed in on his hips, but at the last second Castiel steps back, keeping himself just out of reach. Dean looks shocked and then almost wounded, like it hurts not to be touching Castiel right now.
"Dean." Castiel finds the hunter's gaze and holds it. He says lowly, deliberately using Dean's words from last week, "I need you to come up with a safeword."
Dean's eyes blow wide, pupils dilating even more than they already were. "Bees," he says instantly. "Bees works for me. What're the rules?"
Castiel sucks in a hissing breath through his teeth. He's already getting hard, and there's no way he's going to even try to tame his steadily rising erection. "The rules," he says quietly, "are that you are allowed to look at me as much as you like, but you cannot touch me until I say so. You are also not allowed to touch yourself."
Castiel doesn't think the last needs to be said out loud – it certainly wasn't last time – but it's oddly arousing to actually deny Dean that pleasure so bluntly. Dean nods silently, eyes darting rapidly back and forth between Castiel's intent gaze and the panties. He pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and then bends to retrieve the fork he dropped. It gets thrown into the sink and a new one is retrieved, and Dean goes back to frying the bacon with only a new stiffness in the set of his shoulders to show that anything has changed in his behavior from five minutes ago.
"How do you want your eggs?" Dean asks. There's a slight hitch in his voice, but otherwise he sounds perfectly normal.
"Scrambled, please," Castiel replies.
He watches Dean fork the bacon onto a paper towel and crack eggs into the grease. He's fully hard now, and it feels strange to be discussing breakfast in this state. Looking down, Castiel discovers the material of the panties isn't large enough to cover him completely. The head of his cock is poked up above the waistline, held against his stomach by the elastic. Castiel shifts his hips just a little, sighing softly at the feel of the sleek satin against his skin. He wonders more than a little excitedly if Dean will leave the panties on later, once he's allowed to be touching Castiel.
When Dean turns around with two plates of breakfast, Castiel can see the outline of his cock pressing against the denim. The former angel's mouth immediately begins to water at the thought of walking over there, falling to his knees and mouthing the hard line of it through Dean's jeans, but he reins in the desire almost fiercely. That, he thinks, would ruin the point of the game.
They eat in silence. Dean stares openly at Castiel the entire time, his eyes raking over what he can see across the table. Once, he even shoves his seat back and looks under the table, and Castiel huffs a quiet laugh.
Dean gets through all of breakfast and even washing the dishes, Castiel beside him and drying them as they are handed to him, without so much as twitching towards Castiel. Only his eyes touch him, so constantly that Castiel swears he can actually feel the gaze physically.
"You're doing very well, Dean," Castiel murmurs roughly. He wants to tell himself he's doing well, too, since all he really wants just then is to climb Dean like a tree and fuck him right there in the kitchen. He doesn't know how Dean controlled himself so well when he was in this position of power. "Very well." And then, because he's curious to see if Dean likes being on the receiving end as much as Castiel did, he says quietly, "Good boy."
Dean lets out a choked moan and squeezes his eyes shut, pitching forward so far his head is nearly in the sink, and oh, Castiel sees now. The surge of power and arousal that punches through him is more than enough for Castiel to forget his previous urges. He wants to do that to Dean again and again until he has the man begging.
Dean doesn't move for nearly a minute, and when he does it's very abruptly away. He leaves the sink half full of dirty dish water and practically runs into what they've made into the living room. Castiel follows more leisurely; he's not letting Dean get away that easily, but he can completely understand if Dean needs a second to compose himself.
When he gets there Dean has the TV on and is putting in a DVD. The hunter glances in Castiel's direction as he strides towards the couch. The ex-angel doesn't give in to the temptation to look, but he can feel Dean's eyes raking over his mostly naked body, and he can't help the shiver that zings across his skin in response.
Castiel hears a low, vehement curse, and then Dean is settling onto the couch with the remote. Castiel leans back against the armrest and twists sideways. He brings one foot up on the couch, crooking his leg and spreading it as far as the back of the couch will allow, and leaves his other foot flat on the floor. It's not the most comfortable position but it puts him completely on display, and he knows it's working when Dean's hands start to shake. He clenches one on his leg and punches the play button on the remote almost viciously.
Castiel makes it about half way through a movie called The Fugitive before he has to move. His back hurts from where it's been resting against the arm of the couch, and his legs are beginning to feel stiff. Dean has resolutely not looked at him for a while anyway, and he thinks a change of tactics is required.
The former angel shifts until he's sitting upright, slouched just a little so his hips are closer to the edge of his seat. He settles both hands against his stomach and then, slowly, begins to pull them upwards. The movement gets Dean's attention. The movie is clearly forgotten as the hunter's jaw goes slack and he twists in his seat, watching with a rabid hunger as Castiel touches himself.
Turning his head so that he can watch Dean, Castiel lets one hand run up and into his own hair while the index of his other runs slow circles around his right nipple. Dean lets out a low, desperate sound, like a whine and a growl jumbled together. His hands twitch and flex at his sides, but he doesn't move to touch Castiel or himself.
"Good boy, Dean," Castiel whispers. He finally flicks the tip of his finger across the stiff peak of his nipple, hissing through his teeth as the sensation zings straight to his now leaking cock. He brings the hand in his hair back down and flicks at his other nipple, teasing and pinching them both until he's panting and squirming, hips churning into the air.
"Cas." Dean's voice is choked and beyond desperate. He lifts one hand and aborts the motion in midair, yanking it back to his side.
Castiel didn't mean to take this quite so far. Between the smooth fabric rubbing against him with every motion of his hips and the blazing heat of need in Dean's gaze, Castiel knows he's going to come soon. He has, however, achieved his goal of riling Dean up so much he hasn't even noticed that the movie is over or that the remote is on the floor. All he sees is Castiel, and it makes the ex-angel feel so powerful and so wanted it's overwhelming.
"Wanna watch you come, Cas," Dean pants. One of his hands curls into his knee, gripping so tightly Castiel's certain there will be bruises there later. "Please, please let me see you come. Please?"
It feels a little like giving in, and at the same time it doesn't. Getting off while denying Dean the pleasure of touching himself will drive the hunter out of his mind. Particularly, Castiel thinks with a little smirk, if he doesn't wash the come off.
"You think you deserve a reward?" Castiel asks gruffly. One hand brushes lower, tracing the faint lines in his stomach that are nowhere near as defined as Dean's hard abs. He makes a show of it, arching into his own touch, parting his lips and letting his lids fall nearly shut as he lets out a breathy little moan.
"Fuck." Dean's eyes zero in on the fingers dipping steadily lower. "Yeah, yeah Cas, come on. Bein' real good for you, right?"
Castiel swirls just the tip of his index over the dripping head of his cock. A low moan is torn from his chest and he arches upwards into his hand, shuddering hard as the pleasure ripples up his spine. "Yes, Dean, you've been very good," he manages to say, though his voice comes out so gravely the words are barely understandable.
"Yeah." Castiel doesn't think Dean even knows what he's saying now. He slides closer on the couch but still doesn't touch, only staring with rapt attention as Castiel presses the heel of his hand to his cock through the panties. "Yeah, come on, lemme see you, Cas, please." Dean lets himself sink sideways against the couch, head pressing into the cushions and his hands sort of kneading mindlessly at his own legs. He looks dazed and starved and Castiel can't get enough of it. "Look so beautiful like this, Cas," Dean continues frantically.
And just like that, Castiel is able to stop. Beautiful is not a word Dean uses comfortably, or didn't until recently. The former angel loves it when his human calls him that, not because of the meaning of the word itself, but because of how difficult it is for Dean to admit it. His use of it now reminds Castiel of part of what he's trying to accomplish here.
Dean lets out something like a strangled sob when Castiel drops his hands away from himself. He can hear a low litany of please please please pouring from Dean's lips, but Castiel doesn't touch himself again, no matter how badly he just wants to let himself climax and watch Dean come undone.
"You've been a very good boy, Dean," Castiel says, smiling gently. "But not quite good enough. I know there's something you want to say to me, and until you do you won't be allowed to touch me, or see me come."
Which may just kill him, but Castiel is as stubborn as the Winchesters and he knows he can hold out, no matter how much his throbbing erection says otherwise.
Dean goes from desperate and panting to stone-cold and silent so fast that Castiel thinks this must be what it means to get proverbial whiplash. Dread pools icily in the pit of the ex-angel's stomach, and for a moment he thinks he's made a horrible mistake. Then Dean's expression softens, and a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his lips. There's a strange kind of fear in his green gaze, but also trust and acceptance, and Castiel lets out a quiet breath of relief and relaxes into the couch again.
Castiel's still expecting Dean to use the safeword, but instead he says quietly, "You're gonna have to push harder than that."
The silent 'me' is painfully obvious and completely unexpected. Dean usually hates it when people push him to say or do things he doesn't want to. Castiel can only assume that means Dean does wantto say whatever it is he's holding back, and just hasn't been able to bring himself to do so.
If he wants Castiel to push, then that's exactly what he's going to do.
The former angel's erection wilted somewhat with his fear, but it begins to swell again when a plan forms in his mind. He rolls his hips twice against the satin fabric and watches Dean's arousal punch back into his intent gaze.
Dean puts another movie in, more for something to do with his hands than anything else, Castiel thinks. He glances up questioningly when Castiel stands and begins to head towards the kitchen.
"Beer," Castiel says simply, and Dean nods once and sinks back into the couch, looking more than a little relieved at the thought of alcohol.
As soon as he's out of sight, Castiel detours to their room. It gives him a strange, warm feeling in his chest to call it "theirs." He hasn't slept in what used to be his own room since the first night with Dean.
He finds what he's looking for on top of the nightstand. The curvy, purple bottle stands there looking sleek and inviting, and Castiel snatches it up and carries it back to the kitchen. Part of him thinks it might be wiser to use the regular lube, which doesn't have the same tingling, hot/cool affects of this kind, but driving himself insane is part of what's driving Dean even more insane, and so he sticks with his choice.
Once in the kitchen, Castiel gets two beers from the fridge and sets them on the counter. He glances over his shoulder to make sure he's still alone for the moment before popping the cap on the bottle and getting one hand good and slick. Bracing against the counter with his dry hand, Castiel spreads his legs and bends over until he can reach behind himself. He nudges the panties aside and slides one finger into his hole without preamble. A deep groan rumbles up from his chest as his rim stretches and the lube's tingling sensation sets in. It's not as much as he wants, but it's the only satisfaction he's going to get for a while if Dean holds out.
Castiel is just sliding in the second finger when he hears footsteps. They stop abruptly, just in the doorway by the sound of it. This position may be even more awkward and uncomfortable than the one Castiel used on the couch, but he spreads his legs even wider anyway. He pulls his fingers slowly out until only the tips are inside, and then slams them back in with an obscenely loud moan that isn't played up at all. Just knowing Dean is standing there behind him, watching... it leaves him feeling incredibly exposed, and in turn leaves him so aroused he can hardly stand it.
Castiel hears a soft, choked noise and a loud thump. He cranes his head under the arm supporting his weight against the counter and sees Dean has fallen to his knees a few feet away. The hunter's hands are clenched into fists at his sides and his jaw is slack, pupils blown so wide Castiel can see only a hint of green.
Dean's jaw clicks shut and he makes a strangled sound that may have been an attempt at Castiel's name. In response, Castiel fucks himself even harder with his fingers and ignores the strain in his limbs at keeping up this position.
"Cas," Den manages this time, his voice a low growl. He shuffles forward until he's right behind Castiel, until the former angel can feel the heat of Dean's breath ghosting over his entrance. "Let me touch you, Cas."
It's almost a demand, and Castiel thinks he needs to remind Dean who's in charge in this game, no matter how badly he wants to yank his fingers out so that Dean can replace them with his tongue. Pulling his fingers free, Castiel whirls around and claps his dirty hand to the back of Dean's head, holding him still while he seals his other hand over the hunter's eyes. Dean's body locks up, for a second he even stops breathing. Castiel hesitates, giving him a chance to use the safeword, but when he doesn't he leans down until he's close to Dean's ear.
"Careful, Dean," Castiel says, voice rough and low and more than a little commanding. "You've been such a good boy up until now, I wouldn't want to punish you."
Dean shivers hard at the words, but Castiel wants more than that. "I could blindfold you so you can't look at me -" Castiel starts, but he doesn't get another word in because Dean is babbling right over the top of him.
"Sorry, I'm sorry, so beautiful, Cas, just wanna touch you so bad." Dean presses his head into the hand covering his eyes, rubbing against it desperately. "Please let me see you, Cas? I'll be good."
Castiel swallows a moan. He takes a second to make sure his own desperation isn't openly painting his face before he removes his hand from Dean's eyes and steps back. Dean immediately looks up at him, eyes raking over the entirety of his form once, twice. His hands relax and then clench up again, and Castiel has to reach back and grip the edge of the counter until it cuts into his palms to keep from just lunging at his hunter.
After a moment of Dean soaking up the sight of Cas like he's water in a desert, he suddenly pushes himself up, grabs the beer and walks back to the couch. Castiel hesitates, afraid he's pushed too far again, and has to remind himself that Dean didn't use the safeword. So he follows, taking the beer Dean hands to him when he sits down. Neither of them watch the last half of the movie Dean put in, too busy watching each other.
The credits have rolled and the beer bottles are sitting empty on the floor when Dean gets a call from Sam saying that he and Kevin will be home in half an hour. Castiel wonders if Sam somehow knows what's happening here, or at least has an idea that they might be naked and doing things he doesn't want to see if he doesn't call first. The thought makes him chuckle, and Dean grins widely at him, pointing to the phone and rolling his eyes fondly.
While Dean is taking the empty bottles to the trash, Castiel slips into their bedroom and ponders what to do next. The fact that Dean has held out for the majority of the day is both impressive and frustrating, and he has no idea what to do next to finally get his hunter to crack.
The yawn hits him without warning. It's something he still hasn't grown used to, but he stopped fighting it after Dean explained it just meant he was tired. He doesn't feel tired, but the yawn strikes anyway. He lets it roll through him, stretching languidly and rubbing at his eyes with one hand, and when he turns he sees Dean sinking heavily onto the bed, staring at Castiel with a look he can't quite identify. Whatever it is, it's happy, and it makes Castiel grin as he scrubs a hand through his hair and walks towards his hunter.
Dean says something, soft and unintelligible. Castiel pauses, cocking his head in question as he looks down at him.
"What?"
A light flush pools in Dean's cheeks. He ducks his head and immediately looks up again, eyes determined and afraid all at once. "I said I..." He sighs, and turns away. When he looks up again, his eyes trail over the hair Castiel is sure looks rather ridiculous now that he's messed it up. His eyes linger there a moment, and then he lets out a small, hysterical laugh.
"Love you," Dean blurts, and once it's out it's like he can't stop it. "Fuck, love you, I love you, Cas, please let me touch you now."
For a second Castiel can't move. He just stares down at his hunter in shocked, delighted disbelief. As far as he's aware, Dean has never even said those words to Sam. Which, he thinks, he's going to remedy later.
"I love you, too," Castiel says easily. He's loved Dean for years, but he never thought he'd be allowed to say the words out loud.
Reaching down, Castiel curls his fingers around Dean's wrists and lifts the hunter's hand to his hips. Dean lets out a choked mess of a sound and holds on tight, thumbs sweeping down over the smooth fabric of the panties before he suddenly leans forward and buries his face in them, rubbing his cheek on Castiel's erection through the material and making the ex-angel sigh in pleasure. He strokes his hands over Dean's hair, his shoulders, murmuring quiet praise and trying valiantly not to come just from this.
"Thought you were going to kill me," Dean says breathlessly. He sits back enough to rub his palm over Castiel's erection through the panties, grinning when Castiel's head falls back and his hips pump forward. "You have no idea how many times I almost used the safeword."
Castiel strokes a hand through Dean's hair mindlessly. "But you didn't. Why?"
"Wanted to say it," Dean mutters. He hooks his fingers in the waistline of the panties, and them seems to think better of it and wraps his hands around Castiel's waist instead. The next thing Castiel knows, he's sprawled across Dean's chest as the hunter throws himself onto his back on the bed. "Knew I wouldn't if you didn't push me."
"I thought you were angry," Castiel confesses. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and bends his head so he can nuzzle into the hunter's throat.
"I kinda was, for a second," Dean admits. He tilts his head so Castiel has more room to explore his throat. "But then I realized you gave me an out for it, so it wasn't like you were forcing me into it."
Castiel doesn't think he can ever begin to describe the feeling of knowing Dean willingly let himself be pushed into saying what he did. "Say it again?" he murmurs before he thinks, almost begging. He's not supposed to be the one begging here, but he can't bring himself to care.
Castiel can almost feel Dean roll his eyes. "Do I have to?"
"No," Castiel says immediately.
"Damn it." Dean grabs a handful of Castiel's hair and yanks his head up so he can meet the ex-angel's eyes. "I love you, alright?"
Castiel grins. "Alright," he agrees, and then dives down to kiss his hunter. If it can even be called a kiss. It's really more like they're trying to devour each other in the messiest, best manner possible.
Castiel pulls away sooner than he'd like, but he has more important matters to attend to. Like getting Dean naked. Preferably yesterday. He grabs the lapels of Dean's jacket and yanks him upright so he can pull it down his arms. Dean immediately yanks his t-shirt over his head once his arms are free, and Castiel climbs off his legs so that he can rid himself of the rest of his clothing.
"Leave those on," Dean growls as he pulls Cas back down on top of him, waving with one hand towards the panties. "Want you to wear them while you fuck me."
Castiel's thought process becomes a constant stream of yes yes yes. He rips open the drawer in the nightstand to grab the regular lube because there is no way he's waiting long enough to run to the kitchen and retrieve the bottle he left there. For a brief, fierce moment, Castiel misses his grace and its ability to retrieve anything he needed. It disintegrates like flash paper when Dean spreads his legs in invitation.
"Come on, Cas." Dean rolls his hips upwards. Castiel whines as he struggles to get the bottle open. Damn his useless, human hands! "Gonna make me beg again?"
The cap finally snaps open. Castiel squeezes far more than necessary onto his fingers and immediately thrusts one inside Dean. "Yes, I think I might," Castiel says tightly. He thrusts his finger shallowly, grinning fiercely when Dean moans and torques his hips down onto his hand.
"Gonna have to try harder than that," Dean gasps.
Castiel pulls his finger out. He spreads the lube more thoroughly around Dean's entrance and then enters him with two, shoving in sharp and hard because he knows Dean likes it that way. He deliberately avoids his hunter's prostate and, after the initial entry, keeps his thrusts smooth and slow. He brings his other hand up and teases Dean's balls with just the tips of his fingers, almost tickling.
"Fuck!" Dean's hips stutter both towards and away from Castiel's hands. His head thrashes against the pillow, and Castiel watches as both of his hands curl into the sheets and tug frantically.
"I thought you wanted me inside you, Dean." Castiel congratulates himself on being able to say the words so calmly, pitching his tone so that the confusion is almost blatantly fake. He slides in a third finger as slowly as possible, pressing in with all three and then just stopping, holding them inside Dean without giving him any friction at all.
"Yeah, want you, Cas," Dean pants. "Come on, move!"
The former angel barely keeps himself from shaking. He just stares at Dean and holds completely still, willing himself not to explode with want and break before Dean does.
It's a close thing. Mere seconds before Castiel caves and begins moving Dean blurts out, "Shit, please, come on, Cas, please fuck me."
Heaving a huge sigh of relief and pointedly ignoring Dean's smug look, Castiel rips his fingers free, tugs the panties aside, and buries himself in his hunter. Dean lets out a hoarse shout. His legs lock on either side of Castiel's hips and his hands slide down the ex-angel's back to cup his ass, pulling hard like he can somehow get Castiel even closer. The satin fabric slides across Castiel's skin with Dean's movements, and when the ex-angel sighs in pleasure Dean seems to understand. He grips the panties more deliberately and rubs them against Castiel's ass.
"Like that?" he asks, and Castiel just nods helplessly. He's lost the control and he doesn't even care.
Dean smirks, and Castiel feels two fingers press against the fabric until it's sliding along his crack to rub up against his hole. A firmer press slides the tip of Dean's satin-encased finger inside, and Castiel lets go and fucks his hunter without finesse or rhythm. He wonders distantly if this was how frantic Dean felt when he fucked Castiel over the sink in that diner, and then Dean's canting his hips upwards and circling his finger and Castiel can't think beyond his hunter.
"Dean, Dean." Castiel buries his face in Dean's throat and nuzzles like a cat. His orgasm is already building in the pit of his stomach, and he has no desire to draw it out any longer.
"Yeah, Cas." Dean keeps circling his finger just inside Castiel's hole. His other hand comes up and tangles in Castiel's hair, tugging until Castiel pushes himself up enough to meet Dean's eyes. "Let go, Cas, come on," Dean urges. The hand in Castiel's hair drops away and Castiel can feel it moving between them, but he doesn't look down to watch Dean stroke himself. He's too caught up in the heat in his hunter's eyes.
"Been so patient, haven't you?" Dean purrs, and Castiel decides he's not so good at being the one in charge. He really couldn't care less. "Been so good, Cas, so good, you can give it up now."
So he does. Castiel's mouth opens, but nothing comes out except a quiet sigh as his orgasm doesn't so much hit as slow-burn its way through his veins. He feels like he's melting from the inside out, pumping everything he is into Dean, wringing himself completely dry until he just collapses forward, panting harshly against his hunter's skin.
It takes Castiel several moments to find himself again, and when he does he realizes he's crushed Dean's hand between their bodies, preventing him from coming. Oddly enough, he doesn't seem to mind. There's a hand stroking Castiel's hair and a voice murmuring softly in his ear, though for the life of him Castiel can't make out what he's saying.
Still, that won't do at all. As quickly as his pleasantly exhausted body will allow, Castiel slides down and swallows Dean's cock. He still can't control his gag reflex, but he does his best to take Dean in as far as he possibly can. He curls one hand around what he can't take and uses his other to slide two fingers back into Dean, reaching in to find his prostate and working it in slow circles.
"Mmmm." Dean reaches down and pets Castiel's hair again. "S'good, Cas, gonna... unh... gonna come."
Good, Castiel thinks fiercely. He sucks harder, pulling up so that he can thrash his tongue against the head, licking up the taste of him greedily, and when Dean comes with a quiet cry Castiel's ready for it. He drinks it down like he's starving for it even though he doesn't really care for the taste. The look on Dean's face every time he does this, the arousal and adoration, will always make it worth it.
Castiel doesn't release Dean until the hunter is starting to go soft and tugging at his hair as he becomes oversensitive. Only then does he slide up and tuck himself in close against Dean's side. An arm curls around his shoulders and pulls him even closer, so Castiel lays his head on Dean's chest and listens to the slowly calming beat of his heart.
"I don't know if 'fun' is the right word for that," Dean mutters tiredly. "But damn."
Castiel chuckles. "I don't think I did a very good job of being in charge."
"You kidding?" Dean taps Castiel's chin until the former angel looks up at him. "When you covered my eyes in the kitchen and started threatening to blindfold me, I thought I was gonna come just from your voice."
Castiel grins at that, pleased that Dean is pleased.
"Where did you get these, anyway?" Dean asks, reaching down to brush his fingertips along the waistline of the panties.
"I stole them," Castiel replies simply. The chest beneath his cheek rumbles with a surprised chuckle. "On the way out of Wal-mart. I had to hide them in my shoe to keep you from finding them."
Dean laughs outright this time. He tips Castiel's head up again and strains his own down so that he can press a gentle kiss there before he settles back into the pillows again, eyes closed and a small smile softening his face.
Dean is half asleep when Castiel, remembering his earlier resolve, says softly, "Dean, there's something you need to say to Sam."
000
The next morning, Dean storms out of his and Cas's room and straight to the kitchen. Sam is bent over a huge book that he obviously finds fascinating, if the forgotten plate of eggs and toast is any indication. He glances up as Dean comes up on the other side of the table and plants his hands on the surface, his expression frustrated and intent and just a bit crazed.
"Dean?" Sam asks hesitantly. "You okay? You and Cas have a fight or something?"
Dean shakes his head. "I'm only doing this because Cas threatened not to put out for a week if I don't," he says gruffly, just to make that perfectly clear.
"Doing what, exactly?" Sam asks. He looks torn between consternation and amusement.
Dean sucks in a huge breath, and then blurts out all at once, "Iloveyouman," and then whirls around and stomps back to his room.
From his hiding place just outside the doorway, Castiel watches as Sam's expression goes from shocked to grinning so widely that Castiel thinks it might split Sam's face in half.
END