Rating goes up with this chapter because sexy times are ahead.
In the kitchen Sam insists on making himself and Charlie coffee, even though he looks about ready to keel over and it's nearly two in the morning. Charlie sits on the counter keeping a watchful eye on him.
"Do you think they're talking it out?" she asks into the silence. "Whatever it is Dean was mad at Cas about?"
Turning his back to her to get out a couple coffee mugs, Sam snorts. "Dean, Mr. No Chick Flick Moments, and Cas, who's probably even more emotionally stunted, having been an angel and all? Unlikely."
With a shrug, Charlie hops off the counter and creeps over to the doorway to peak out. "Well I don't hear any shouting or anything."
Lumbering up behind her, Sam leans around Charlie to peer into the dining/living area. "Huh. Must have gone to Dean's room." Charlie raises an eyebrow up at him. "Oh God, I don't wanna know what they might be doing in there."
"Whatever it is I'm sure it's hot as hell," she can't help but add. Sam merely groans at that.
Erstwhile, in Dean's bedroom, the man himself and his fallen angel set upon continuing what they had started in the other room – if a bit awkwardly. While Castiel certainly has good enough technique, which he learned from the Pizza Man no doubt, he still lacks experience. This certainly isn't a first for Dean, but it does remind him that he needs, and wants to show Castiel exactly how much fun the two of them can have and in how many ways.
Dean starts divesting Castiel of his overcoat, which had gotten a tad ratty especially since he's now human and can't mojo it clean anymore, and he's been wandering along the road and in the woods for weeks, ever since the angels started falling. So actually Dean's more than happy to get rid of that coat for more than one reason – the most important being getting through all the layers Castiel always wore because Dean is very interested in seeing what lies beneath them all – and for a far more pleasurable reason than patching up a gaping wound left by their least favorite demon.
Anyway, time to stop thinking about Crowley of all things and start focusing on the incredibly hot former angel above him.
Wait, when did Cas get on top? And when did Dean lose his shirt?
Pulling back, and trying to ignore how the short whine Cas gives goes straight to his cock, Dean looks up at him. "When did we switch places?" he asks, a little lost. "And when'd I lose my shirt? We're supposed to be getting you out of all your layers first, not me."
Castiel cocks a brow. "And would that not be easier with me on top?"
"You and your logic." Dean rolls his eyes, setting back to the task of stripping his companion and shoving off the suit jacket, loosening the tie even more than it already is and taking it off over Cas's head, and unbuttoning the dress shirt, all while licking, biting, and sucking that tantalizing skin, earning him full-throated groans and breathy sighs, Cas' hips grinding down into Dean's own, producing nowhere near enough friction.
Once he is shirtless as well, Castiel breaks away from the kiss with a pop, placing his lips instead at the point behind Dean's left ear at the joint of his jaw. This being a particular sweet spot of his Dean's hips jerk up while he turns his head more to the side to give Cas more access. A groan is pulled out of Dean when Cas brushes one of his hands over the growing bulge in Dean's jeans, the other making quick work of the belt.
Soon enough Dean is in nothing but his boxers while Cas is still in his trousers, so Dean moves his own hands down Cas' spine and around his hips, shoving off the offending garment. Castiel sighs in relief when his swollen cock is released from its cloth confine; apparently Jimmy liked to go commando, even when he was getting dressed to serve as an angel's errand boy. After that Dean's boxers just seem to disappear as he flips them over, pinning Cas to the bed as Dean works a wet, sloppy trail down Cas' surprisingly toned chest to his groin. But instead of turning his attention to the cock with slowly beading pre-cum, Dean sucks at the crease between hip and thigh. Cas squirms, attempting to shift Dean to his aching flesh, making Dean chuckle though he doesn't move from where he's latched on till he's good and ready.
Or until Cas roughly grabs the hair at the nape of his neck, hauls him up till their faces are level, and growls, "Get a move on or I will be taking over and showing you torturing with no end."
Dean chuckles once again. "Please, sweetheart, I'm pretty sure if anyone's going to be doing the torturing in the sack it's gonna be me."
Castiel growls – which, holy hell, hot as fuck – and smashes their mouths together, teeth clacking a little painfully before he shoves in his tongue roughly, flipping them over again. Grunting in surprise, Dean tries to regain the upper hand but, well, his hands are trapped above his head, which is actually pretty hot; Dean's always had a bit of a weakness for a partner who takes charge.
One hand occupied keeping hold of Dean's, Castiel removes his tongue from Dean's mouth, replacing it with three of his fingers, pushing on Dean's tongue insistently until Dean sucks, slavering them up by wrapping his tongue around them, drawing another groan out of Cas at the suction. After a few moments Castiel is satisfied so he removes them to relocate them, moving between Dean's legs, bending them at the knees and spreading them, his hands reaching down and behind Dean's balls, ghosting over the perineum before circling around the puckered muscle further back.
Breath hitching, Dean struggles against the hand holding him down. "Cas, wait," he moans, drawing the name out. "Buddy – buddy – wait – hold on. We gotta use more than just my spit."
Glaring at the interruption, but conceding that Dean is most likely in the right, having much more experience than he in this department, Castiel releases his grip on Dean's wrists and sits back on his heels, allowing Dean to scramble to the bedside table and dig in the drawer for the lube and condoms – because, hey, even though he's pretty sure Cas is more than clean, better safe than sorry. And he still can't forget the last time he opted out on a condom (though, admittedly, there's no chance either of them are getting pregnant).
As soon as he gets back to where Castiel is crouching in the middle of the bed Dean is practically tackled, teeth scrapping at his tongue while Cas' hand searches the bed beside them for the lube. When his fingers close around the tube Cas sets about spreading lube on the fingers Dean had sucked, moving his hand down once more, fingers circling lightly before pushing in the tip of his index finger then stopping, waiting for the muscles to relax and smooth his way a bit.
Tensing for a moment, Dean settles, knowing the pain will only be momentary and so worth the mind-numbing, toe-curling pleasure.
For, until recently, being a junk-less dick Castiel is doing pretty well, before long moving on to two fingers, then three. Then, scissoring and curling them nearly expertly, he brushes across Dean's prostate, causing Dean to shoot up and bump their heads together, which could've been a setback but Dean just snorts and Castiel chuckles and smirks devilishly, curling his fingers in the same direction. After a few minutes of constant attention to his prostate Dean knows he can't take much more, inattention to his dick be damned (he always was ridiculously sensitive).
"CasCasCas, buddy," he groans throatily, grabbing at Cas' wrist, "we really gotta move this along or I'm not gonna last much longer."
Their eyes meet; both with lust-blown pupils, breathing quickened and skin sweat-slick. Castiel nods erratically, pulling his fingers out carefully, Dean giving a whimper at the loss, a sound he will deny making every single time this and similar scenes play out.
Fingers twitchy, Cas rushes to open the condom packet, rolling it on securely and slicking himself up with more lube. Arranging Dean according to his specifications – on his back, legs spread, knees bent, allowing Cas to settle between them – Castiel leans down for a messy kiss, Dean's hand curling into his disheveled hair and holding him there. With a hand between them Cas guides himself into Dean's entrance, moving slowly to allow Dean time to relax, the muscles almost greedily sucking him the rest of the way in, drawing strained groans out of the both of them.
For a minute Cas stays still, straining not to thrust with abandon like he so aches to do, waiting for the go ahead from Dean, which he gets soon enough in the form of a growl of "move already and none of that slow and gentle bullshit." Giving a strained chuckle Castiel happily pulls out all the way and slams back in.
As the two move, they shift to and fro from in tandem to sloppy thrusts and rolls, moans, gasps, and breathy laughs rending the air as they trade slippery kisses with too much tongue, teeth, and spit.
After several minutes of this Castiel decides to rearrange Dean's legs, wrapping one around his waist and propping the other on his shoulder. The change in angle allows Cas to hit upon Dean's prostate with every stroke in, bringing out an unending litany of expletives from Dean, whose thrusts grow more desperate, his hands clawing at Cas' back, ass, hips, arms, and hair, searching for a place to hold onto and urge him on. Cas is more than happy to oblige, going faster, rougher, moving the hand not holding Dean's leg on his shoulder down to Dean's neglected erection. With the combined attentions to his prostate and dick Dean comes on both their abdomens after just a handful more jerks and thrusts, Cas stroking him through his orgasm. Groaning as the muscles contract around him Cas keeps moving, still hitting upon Dean's oversensitive prostate, thrusts growing more and more erratic and desperate until he reaches his own peak, turning his head to muffle slightly his loud moans in Dean's knee, still on his shoulder.
Once done he pulls out, letting down Dean's legs so he's lying flat on the bed before collapsing on top of him and knocking the already limited breath out of them both, ignoring the mess between them. Tucking his face into Dean's neck, Castiel kisses the sweaty flesh nearest to his lips, fighting for his breath. Beneath him, Dean attempts to take deep breaths, one hand stroking over the bumps of Cas' spine, the other carding through the sweat-damp, softly curling hair at the nape of Cas' neck.
When Dean starts chuckling weakly Cas pulls back to look at him through slightly blurry, drowsy eyes. "What?" he rasps.
"Nothing," Dean whispers with a genuine smile that keeps growing, pulling Cas' head down by the hand on his neck to rest their foreheads together, fingers still playing with his hair. "It's just good to have you home."
Castiel closes his eyes again contently; leaning down just that little bit more to bring their lips together in a tender kiss. Sighing into it, Dean melts. It doesn't last for long though as they feel Dean's cum drying between them and Cas' leaking out of Dean's hole, which is more than a little gross.
Scrunching his nose, Dean breaks away. "We need to clean up," he says at a normal volume. "And you should probably shower; you've been on the road for weeks."
With a sigh – he was really looking forward to sleeping on an actual bed, with Dean – Castiel relents, rolling off Dean and the bed to a standing position. Getting up as well, Dean stands behind him and whispers in his ear, "That was some superb torture back there; I'll be feeling it for days," earning him a shiver before he grabs some boxers, shirts, and robes for them both, then leading Cas to the bathroom quickly, shutting the door behind them with a click.
When they hear Dean's door creep open over an hour, scurrying footsteps, then the bathroom door clicking shut, Sam and Charlie are pretty sure they know what went down.
"That's – I – Yeah" is all Sam can say.
Charlie smiles. "Hey, at least now Dean will stop moping around and worrying about Cas."
With a huff, Sam gives a rueful smile of his own. "Yeah, small miracles," he sighs. "Now I just have to deal with them having sex all the time.
"And this is Dean and Cas, so the peace won't last for long."
Shrugging, Charlie gives him a pat on the lower back, where she can reach easiest. "Take what you can get Sam. And maybe get some for yourself."
Shh just take sappy bottom!Dean while you can. Like Sam said it won't last for long; soon enough Dean will go back to his bitch fits and Cas will keep blaming himself for everything.