Dean's hands are like an anchor on him, pulling him into every thrust. His legs are around Dean's hips, arms clutching tight to those wide, muscular shoulders. The bones of his ankles knock together from where they're locked and vaguely Cas is grateful that the wall is smooth, or this might hurt more. He's full with Dean that it's all he can do not to whine and beg for it harder, harder, markmeontheinside.
They kiss and it's slick, tongue sliding and pushing, teeth pulling. They're both so desperate, needing everything so badly. In all his existence Cas can't remember needing something more.
Dean brings that out in him. The wants and the needs, the begging and canting his hips, sly little smiles and come hither, come take me, I'm yours.
Neither of them are even completely undressed. Dean's still clothed entirely, only having lost his tie and suit jacket and Cas is still wearing his fucking pants, they only freed one leg so he could spread them both wide like a whore. Oh and he did, gladly for the way Dean swallowed hard and shoved him harder.
Nails dig into his ass, his head thunks against the wall, throat exposed to Dean's teeth. He holds on, lets Dean use and use because he's using right back.
"Oh, fuck!" Dean moans when he swears, thrusts up with a jolt and hits him deep.
A low voice is in his ear, breath hot and consuming him. His balls are heavy, his cock is throbbing and Dean's whispering and making it all so much worse. "That's it, angel, let it go."
Cas isn't sure what he's letting go, but somehow he does as he's told, always does what he's told. Good little soldier suck—Dean smacks his ass and brings him back. His fingers scramble on Dean's button down, cheap cotton tearing at the seams. It wasn't made to handle a greedy angel being teased as he's fucked.
"More." His voice is even more wrecked than usual and Dean grins, taking them away from the wall and toward the couch. They almost fall to the floor when Dean stumbles on Cas' pants, but he catches them and they make it just fine.
Cas pulls off and bites his lip, hating the way his hole clenches and begs to be back where he was, Dean inside him. Some nights he fingers himself open and waits for Dean to catch him, needy little slut, couldn't wait? Such ridiculous questions wouldn't be asked if the positions were reversed. Dean would know.
Dean sprawls on the cushions, licking his lips and watching with hooded eyes as Castiel strips down. When he's naked Dean leers and he can't take the heavy gaze for more than a brief second before he's crawling back into Dean's lap.
Dean's dick is thick in his hand, hard and perfect and he lines it back up and sinks down. His head lolls to the side as he seats himself and Dean's hands are on his waist, rubbing circles into his skin. Castiel grips the back of the couch and rolls his hips, gyrating them like the strippers at the brothel so long ago. Dean whimpers and his grip tightens so Cas does it again, grinning smugly when the response strengthens.
His celebration is cut short by Dean jabbing up, heels planted firmly in the carpet, soles of his shoes giving plenty of traction. It's a power play that goes back and forth until Castiel clenches on purpose when he pulls up, making Dean's head fall back as he pants and groans.
"Again." Dean's voice shakes, dark and needy, the sound of it making Castiel more drunk than the five bottles of whisky Dean bought with him in mind.
So he does it again and again, making himself tighter for the man beneath him. Dean looks at him, eyes glazing over in their pleasure. Castiel can see the build, see the way Dean gets closer and closer. That, too, makes him drunk or he would probably be concerned over his lack of self control. His hips keep moving, swiveling and circling.
Dean's stopped trying to thrust up, is instead hanging on just like Cas had been. He likes the change in roles, likes taking Dean apart like this, sweaty and sticky andhuman.
Then Dean starts to pull him into it, controls the pace and Castiel lets him. Fingers trail over Dean's features, his cheeks and nose, his lips. Dean sucks on them, moaning and huffing, nostrils flaring. Pride wells up in Castiel's chest, having done this to such a strong man. This sight is his, the sweat dripping, green eyes reduced to wide pupils and a high flush that brings out Dean's freckles.
Teeth dig into his fingers and he doesn't care, Dean's whimpering, brows creased and lids fluttering. The internal chant is please, please, fuck Cas, yes, please, just like that, baby and Cas takes the time to memorize these prayers, the fevered pitch. After seconds even those words are too much, nothing but emotion and imagery left.
Castiel is caught up in watching, but he feels Dean swell, cock getting its hardest right before release. He shoves down hard and listens to Dean's shout, watches his fingers fall from those beautiful lips covered in spit and dented with imprints of teeth. Dean spills into him, free of any barriers or restrictions.
When their lips meet Dean's sluggish to return the kiss, mind and body sated. Cas' dick is still hard, still waiting. He knows Dean will take care of him. So he waits until the chaos settles, hormone levels dropping down to a more manageable range. Dean hefts him up until he's kneeling. Again, his hole his empty, but this time he's leaking. Come dribbles down his thigh and Dean smiles when he sees it.
His mouth is hot and it makes Castiel falter, pitching forward until he catches himself on the wall with one hand. The other finds its way to Dean's bicep, squeezing appreciatively at the muscle. Dean chuckles around him and he gasps, hips already beginning to sway forward. As always Dean takes it, lets him fuck or get sucked, just so long as Dean can taste the hard-earned results.
"Mm, Dean." If he'd been close before it's nothing compared to now, Dean losing himself in his task. Lips and tongue work him over, Dean's head moving up and down, stopping at the tip so Dean can suckle and lick. He thinks Dean's memory is a blessing that it's always this good, always so bright behind his eyelids.
Fingers brush his swollen entrance and he almost comes right then. Two fingers slip inside, brushing along in shallow thrusts until they find their target. Cas growls and digs his nails into the plaster, both hands on the wall now. Dean massages his prostate and sucks him hard, determined to drive him up the wall, perhaps literally.
Pressure is building faster and faster, Dean's mouth pulling him along like a lead attached to a collar. And isn't that thought enticing? A third finger in and Castel can't contain it anymore, he thrusts forward hard, maybe too hard and comes.
He pulls back before Dean can swallow too much and watches the way it splashes across his face. Some even lands on the higher side the smirk Dean wears. The moment Cas is settled again he licks it all away, aware that it's probably a little undignified to be licking Dean's face like a dog (nothin' but a bitch in heat, ain't ya?), but he doesn't care. Dean pulls him into a kiss, sucking some of the remnants away from his tongue.
Castiel isn't sure how long they stay like that until Dean's mouth moves down his jaw and neck. They might not make it to the bed until evening, but that's fine. He'll take Dean anywhere and anyway he can.