"Dean, wait."

Dean ignores it. There's too much going on his head right now to listen, let alone care.

"Dean!"

He feels a tight grip on his elbow, pulling him back. He turns, his eyes meeting his brother's; serious, but at the same time, scared. Dean knows what his brother wants to do, but Dean doesn't want this emotional talk right now, especially with Sam. He just needs to simmer down.

"Sam, I'm not in the mood." Dean spits at him, his legs pulling him down the hotel hallway. Sam doesn't let go of his arm.

"Dean let's just talk about it—"

"There's nothing to talk about!" Dean interrupts him, his voice raging louder than he intends it to. His heart's pounding in his chest and he's not sure how much longer his ribs can take it. Sam stands in front of him, and soon his hand uncoils from Dean's arm.

Dean knows his brother means well. He does, really. But Sam should know that Dean's not, and will never be, the 'talk out my feelings' type. He just holds it all in, because its better for everyone else that way.

"Look," Sam starts, his chest rising up and down hesitantly, "I don't want to talk about this either, but—"

"Then don't!"

Sam's lips roll into a thin line, his eyes sinking. Dean sees Sam's chest deflate, as if he has been holding his breath for a long time and he just finally let it out. Dean wishes he could talk about it, he really does, but he just can't. It's not who he is. Or, maybe, he hasn't found someone who gets who he is.

Dean parts his lips, but Sam raises his chest again.

"Dammit, Dean, you're my brother," Sam scoffs an agitated laugh and shakes his head, "But sometimes, you can be such a jerk." He says, and there's a seriousness to his tone, and Dean knows that Sam isn't joking around; that he's actually calling Dean a jerk.

Dean shuts his eyes and takes a breath, "That's my job, Sam—"

"Oh shut it, Dean," Sam hisses, his face scrunching into a unstrung glare, "I don't need any of your 'I'm just not a talking-type of person' crap. You ever think that maybe that's the reason you're so angry all the time? Is because you never talk to people? I can't do anything unless you talk to me! It's just—"

Sam's voice breaks when the door next to them swings open. Sam stands up straight, his eyes widening like a deer in headlights.

Dean doesn't even need to turn to know who it is, but he does it anyways.

"Cas," Dean starts, but can't really finish his sentence. Cas is just standing there, his full, pink lips parted and eyebrows pyramiding at the top. In his goddamn black v-neck t-shirt that Dean likes, and those god for saken sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips. Like really, does the guy have anything else to wear?

"I-I," Castiel swallows, his gaze flicking between Dean and Sam, "I heard yelling. I wanted to make sure everyone was well."

"Not right now, Castiel," Sam exclaims, chewing on his lip. His voice is deeper than usual and his eyes refuse to look up to meet Castiel's.

On the other hand, Dean refuses to take his eyes away from Castiel's. A part of him is mad at him, for some reason, and he doesn't know why, but he is. Another part of him feels… something different. His anger and his unknown feeling keep arguing with each other, bickering back and forth like an old married couple. Dean doesn't know which one will eventually win.

Castiel shakes his head slightly. "If you need my assistance, let me know and I'd be happy to—"

"Not right fucking now, Castiel!" Sam shouts, his voice loud and aggressive, and Dean sees Castiel flinch. Castiel swallows hard, and Dean realizes that he's scared. His eyes blink rapidly, and at the moment, all Dean wants to do is just touch him.

Castiel nods, his eyes staring directly at his feet as he backs away slowly, shutting the door in front of him.

Its quiet for a few moments, and Dean looks at Sam like he had just committed a crime.

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean whispers quietly, and Sam grinds his teeth, his eyebrows hollowing, "Why did you talk to him like that?"

Sam looks up, "This is between us. And us only."

"He was just trying to help."

"Since when do you want help?"

Dean holds his breath. Or, tries to hold his breath, but instead he realizes that all the breath has instead been sucked out of him, and he actually can't breathe.

"Shoot me a call when you're ready to talk like a mature human being." Sam says sternly. Dean doesn't even see him leave. He just stands in front of his room, his eyes searching endlessly, his lips twitching trying to find words to say. First Dad, now Sam.

What next?

His emotions are fucking around with him again, anger fighting with uncertainty, and now Dean feels like he's going to be sick. He just doesn't know what to do, and he doesn't know why.

Suck it up. Just suck it up.

Dean lets out a huff, turning to let himself in his room. He grabs the knob, but then his head turns...to Cas' door. He's just staring at it, wanting to go in. He grinds his teeth down, his jaw clenches tightly as he shakes his head.

"No," Dean whispers, forcing himself to open his own door. He lets himself in, and flops hard on the bed. He's got this nauseous feeling in the back of his throat and the feelings whipping around in his stomach still haven't come to an agreement.

And then his phone rings, stinging his ears so much he actually feels like they might be bleeding. He pulls it out of his pocket and reads the name on the screen.

Sexiest Fiancé Ever.

"Oh, well that's just peachy, isn't it?" Dean groans, and he sits up stretching his back as he flips his phone and holds it to his ear.

"Dean?"

"Hey, Lis." Dean rubs his forehead, and it's hot and sweaty and throbbing. He feels fucking disgusting.

"John called."

Dean's eyes go wider than they've ever been before. The sickness he felt only moments ago compares nothing to what he feels now. He parts his mouth to say something, but no words dare come out.

"Who is it, Dean? Who's this...this guy?"

Dean wants to hang up. God, he wants to hang up. But he's frozen there, his adrenaline surging rapidly through his veins.

"I-I, he's–" Dean makes a choking noise in the back of his throat. He's pushing the words out, he really is, but for some reason, they won't make a noise.

This is when Dean realizes there's no way out. There's no way in hell that he can make excuses through this. He's fucked up. He's lost Sam's ring, he's disappointed his brother, he's come out to his homophobic father, and now he's most likely lost Lisa, all because of an accidental spark of feeling that grew.

Dean swallows hard, and there's a moment that he feels like there's nails digging down his throat. And he sits on the edge of the bed, his chest rising and falling hesitantly, and he realizes...that there's nothing left to lose.

And he feels free. There's so much to gain, so much to earn, so much to give. It's back to square one now, and the freedom means he has to choose his own burden.

And this moment right now sure as hell wasn't it.

"His name is Castiel."

"Who is this? Dean, what have you done?"

Dean stands up and shakes his head, "Lisa," He starts, an angered expression plastered onto his face, "I think we need to reevaluate our relationship."

Dean's eyes go wide.

Did I actually just say that?

Dean hears Lisa huff a sarcastic laugh. "Are you fucking kidding me?" She raises her voice, and Dean's fingers wrap around the phone tighter.

"I just think—"

"You wanna' call off the engagement for some guy? Since when are you into dick?!"

Dean starts to see spots of red in his eyes again, and he has to take a deep breath to calm himself a little to prevent screaming and waking up half the hallways. "Look, I—"

"I can't believe you, Dean! You've ruined this relationship!"

Dean jaw drops. That was by far the most absurd thing Dean has ever heard in his life. Now he's not just seeing shades of red, but he is red.

"Are you fucking insane?" Dean raises his voice unintentionally, "I fucked up this relationship? Really?"

Lisa doesn't respond.

There's so much anger seething through Dean's chest right now its almost unbearable, and there's no way of knowing what'll end up coming out of his mouth.

"At least I don't sleep with my boyfriends best friends! And then name my fucking kid after them!"

Oh, shit.

Dean sucks in a breath. That was an accident. A cruel, cruel, accident. But holy shit, did that feel good. Dean covers his mouth, contemplating whether he should just throw his phone out the window and move to a different country and change his name.

"That's it. I'm coming to California."

Lisa hangs up.

Dean's stomach twists.

Oh, shit. Oh fucking SHIT.

That actually just happened. Dean basically just broke up with Lisa.

Dean doesn't know if Lisa was kidding or not, but god he hopes so. He doesn't even want to think about what would happen if Lisa came up. That would be a nightmare that Dean would never wake up from.

Dean slams his phone and throws it against the wall. "Fuck!" He screams, his sweaty hands finding his even sweatier face and running them across it. He feels like his skin is burning, and he takes his jacket off, whipping that right across the room too. His arms are sweating, and Dean can feel it dripping down his back too. The grey t-shirt does little to hide the water-marks on his skin.

Dean just needs to throw something.

He reaches in his back pocket, pulling out his cluttered wallet and throwing it against the wall, sending little pieces of paper and money flying out of it.

And also, a picture.

Dean's head turns toward the upside-down folded picture, ends crinkled. His chest is heaving, and he walks slowly over towards it, picking it up and running his thumb over the newly formed creases in the smooth surface.

Him and Cas.

Dean forgets why he's mad, and instead reminds himself that he has nothing left to lose. Nothing left to gamble; nothing important anyways. His lip twitches into a small smile, that soon leads him stomping out the door and knocking hard on the door next to his.

Dean really doesn't know what he's doing, but he can't seem to stop.

The door swings open, and Castiel looks almost frightened, his lips parted and eyes wide.

"Dean?" He says, his voice broken and confused. And Dean can't blame him, considering what he had seen between him and Sam. Castiel stares at him waiting for a response. But Dean doesn't have one.

There's no use in talking if that's not what he wants to do.

So instead, he does exactly what he wants to do.

And he doesn't hesitate doing it either.

He grabs the sides of Castiel's face and kisses him.

Castiel gasps, and Dean feels him tighten underneath his fingers. And it's short, lasting only a second to Dean, but his lips taste and feel exactly like what Dean had imagined; sweet like honey, although soft, and dangerous. His heart is only seconds away from bursting through his chest, and he hears this rapid pulse in his ears, like beating wings.

But in the moment their lips touched, Dean knew that the feelings in his stomach had finally come to an agreement.

Dean pulls away, his fingers still cupped around the sides of Castiel's face, tingling above the thin stubble coated across his flexed jaw.

Castiel's eyes are wide, his pupils leaving only a line of the glistening blue, and his lips are frozen, wet and parted. His mouth twitches to say something, but nothing comes out, and Castiel just stares at him.

"Do you want—" Dean swallows, inches away from Castiel's face, so close he can see his own reflection in Castiel's eyes, "—do you want me to do it again?"

As if that was really a question.

"Please."

Dean hooks his hands around the back of Castiel's neck, pulling his face in, this time making their bodies press up against each other enough that Dean feels the heat radiating off his skin. Castiel seems to melt against him, his tongue pushing into Dean's mouth slowly.

Castiel intertwines his hands into the collar of Dean's shirt, grabbing it and pulling him back into the room. Dean's got this feeling in the center of his chest that he's never experienced before, and it's driving him crazy, making his hands run over Castiel's body like he can't get enough of the feel of skin underneath his fingers.

And it's just Cas. The one person Dean's been most aching to feel against him. The one person who's eyes are so unexplainably different, the one who's voice is so strange and wild, the one who has the weirdest, most dangerously attractive hair that it wrecks him. All of it. It wrecks him.

Dean's hands start at Castiel's shoulders, but then caress down his back and to his hips, and soon he's resting his hands just above the cleft of Castiels' ass, pulling the man's hips closer to his own.

And then Dean feels it. Cas is really hard. He can feel Castiel's cock jutting hard through his sweatpants.

And then Dean realizes that he himself is hard too, and soon both of their hardened cocks are rutting against each other through thick material. And it's strange. Dean's not used to it. Hell, he's never done it. But somehow, the feeling he has is something he knows no girl could ever provide.

Dean presses Castiel against the wall, both hands climbing underneath the shirt as he dips down to lick the stubble on Castiel's neck. Dean's tongue swirls, sucking in skin, claiming his territory.

Castiel lets out a shaken breath, "Dean…" He whimpers quietly under his breath, and Dean feels Castiel's hands roughly entwine into his hair, "What about your girlf—"

"It's over, Cas." Dean separates his mouth from Castiel's skin for only a few seconds, but a few seconds is too long for Dean, and he starts biting at his neck again, "It's just you." He murmurs in between tender kisses, "I want you."

Castiel doesn't reply, but instead thrusts his hips forward against Dean's, and Jesus Christ, Dean feels like a fucking animal, clawing and biting at Castiel's skin. Dean bends to hook his arms under Castiel's legs, heaving him up around his waist. Dean places chaste kisses on his shoulders, skin soft like feathers against his tongue.

"Bed?" Dean motions, and Castiel just nods his head and smiles, planting another wet kiss onto Dean's open lips. Dean carries him, hands wrapped tightly around the man's ass as he lays him down on the bed, Dean's chest falling on top of Castiel's. The bed squeaks roughly, but soon Dean's lips are on his again, sucking on his tongue and lips, happy to finally feel what Castiel tastes like, what he feels like.

Dean shivers at the sudden feeling of hands crawling up his back, riding up his shirt and begging for it to be taken off. Dean obliges, letting Castiel roll off his shirt where his eyes then trail over Dean's body like it's a golden treasure. His hands soon follow his eyes, over his chest and abdomen, and soon Castiel's hands grasp Dean's hips and twists him over so now Castiel is on top.

And holy fucking shit.

"Jesus, Cas." Dean sucks in a breath and watches as Castiel straddles him, rolling his own shirt up and exposing smooth and tanned skin, which Dean's hands are on only moments after exposure. Dean can't seem to take his eyes away. Castiel is honest to God, fucking beautiful. His flattened out abdomen slightly flexed, showing the outlines of muscle, the small trail of darkened hair leading down into his pants. The way his tongue is darting out to wet his swollen lips, the flushed pink of his face, his eyelashes fluttering dark and long on top of those eyes. He's gorgeous.

Castiel leans down and presses their chests together, and Dean feels Castiel's beating heart through his skin. They're kissing again, swiftly, but hungrily and passionately, like they both wanted this, like they both needed this.

Dean's hands trail down his sides and to the front of Castiel's pants, and Dean hesitates at first to slide them down, almost as if he's unaware of what's going to happen when he does. But Dean wants this more than anything in the world right now, and his thumbs hook around the fabric, sliding them down, only to discover that Castiel had no fucking underwear on.

Son of a fuck.

Dean takes a gasp when he feels Castiel's bare cock ride against his stomach, wet and slippery from pre-come, and Dean almost doesn't want to look down, but he does. And it's actually kind of fucking hot.

"Holy shit," Dean groans, a small whimper escaping his mouth when he see's the pink and swollen tip of Castiel's cock, his throbbing length, which is actually way bigger than expected. Dean swallows, wrapping his shaking hands around his pulsing cock and stroking upward, receiving a moan from the man on top of him.

"Oh God," Castiel cries, his hand clamping on Dean's chest, "Yes, faster, please." He murmurs, voice rough and hard, yet quiet and demanding.

Dean moves his hand down back to the base of Castiel's cock, to the small patch of hair at the base, and he feels Castiel's nails begin to dig into his skin. Dean begins stroking him, starting off slow and letting himself get used to the feel of a cock other than his own in his hand. Castiel moans loudly, and Dean feels his own cock twitch. His pants need to be off. Now.

Dean isn't going to settle for a second base date. No, he needs to be inside him, and at the moment, if Dean doesn't get inside him quick, he just might in fact, die. There's aching desire in his belly, a warm tingling set into the center of his core that needs to come out.

Castiel leans down again, taking Dean's neck into his mouth and letting his tongue swirl against the skin. Dean lets out a breath at the feeling of Castiel being so close, and he scratches at Castiel's back. Castiel bites and nibbles, making his way up to Dean's ear and taking the lobe into his mouth, sucking and swirling. Dean feels fingers toying with his jeans and lends a helping hand, unhinging the metal clamps separating their skin from one another. And soon, clothes are being piled up at the end of Castiel's bed.

Castiel's mouth moves from his ear, taking a big step to his collar bone next, and Dean throws his head back against the pillows, deciding to let Castiel just do his thing.

Castiel's teeth graze against his nipples, and Dean's back arches into him, the feeling of Castiel's tongue against his skin unbelievably mind-blowing.

Dean hisses through his teeth when he feels Castiel go lower, and now Cas is nipping at the edges of his hipbones. Red, rough marks are being placed against Dean's skin, and Cas' hand slips down from where it was placed at his hipbones, and he places it at the bulge in Dean's boxer briefs.

"Shit," Dean breathes when he feels Castiel hook his thumbs around the tight spandex, pulling it down and letting Dean's cock spring free. Dean bites down on his bottom lip, almost slightly embarrassed at the exposure. But he hears Cas suck in a breath and he props his head up.

Shit.

Cas is knelt down, ass in the air as his head tilts up at Dean, one hand wrapped tightly around Dean's cock, and the other placed on Dean's inner thigh.

If he's doing what I think he's doing...

"Oh, fuck!" Dean shouts as Cas dips his head without warning, his mouth wet and warm and circled around the head of Dean's cock. All Dean can do at this point is just hold on tight.

Dean lurches forward as if he had gotten punched in the stomach, his body twitching and inadvertently grabbing the back of Castiel's head to push him down farther.

"Holy Christ, Castiel!" Dean moans, his body falling back against the bed, his back arched and hand intertwined roughly into the back of Castiel's head. And Cas stays down, his mouth engulfing Dean's length for what seems like forever. Dean lets out a breathless moan when he feels his cock hit the back of Castiel's throat, but Castiel doesn't budge. His tongue presses against the sensitive underside of Dean's cock, and Dean thinks he might just come down Castiel's throat then and there.

Castiel moves his head off of Dean's cock, and Dean shivers at the cool air that hit's his erection. "Shit, Cas. You can deep throat?" Dean asks shockingly, and Castiel's hand runs up Dean's length again to spread his saliva.

"You like that, huh?" Castiel whispers deeply, his lips skimming the tip of Dean's cock. Dean sucks a breath in through his teeth, gazing at Castiel's shimmering blue eyes staring up at him.

"Do it again, " Dean breathes, barely being able to choke out the words, "Please." He begs, and goddammit, he doesn't care about what happens to him anymore. He wants to be sore. He wants the hickeys, the bruises, the scratch marks. If this is a roller coaster going straight down to hell, god-fucking-dammit, Dean doesn't care if he's in the front seat or not.

Castiel smiles slightly, and then dips his head down, licking a stripe from the base of Dean's cock to the top, and then taking the swollen head into his mouth. Dean groans, his head falling back against the bed again as Castiel bobs his head forward down until the top of Dean's cock brushes the back of his throat. And he goes back up, and then down. And up, and down. And up, and down until Dean's legs are shaking.

Castiel comes up for a breath of air, his lips shiny and wet, "Jesus, Dean, you're huge." He groans, lowering his head again and taking his length down his mouth before Dean even has a chance to thank him, and what ends up coming out of his mouth instead is a choked out, muffled gasp for air.

Castiel gets his hands involved now, one hand fondling Dean's balls as the other follows his mouth moving up and down. And it is, by far, the best blow job Dean has ever gotten. The way Castiel is looking up at him, paying so close attention to Dean's movements yet so lost in his technique. Castiel slicks his tongue around the head and pushes it past the slit, licking up salty pre come as his lips enclose around it. He bobs downward again, swallowing Dean's cock until his nose is merely brushing against Dean's belly.

Dean shouts as he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from coming.

And then Dean feels it, the start of his peak, but he won't allow himself to come now.

Not yet.

"Cas," Dean reluctantly hooks his hands under Castiel's shoulders, hoisting him forward until Castiel's lips meet his. Dean opens his mouth and let's Castiel's tongue slip in, tasting musk and salt against his own tongue. Dean parts his lips from his, "Cas I need you." He whispers against his lips quietly.

Castiel moves to Dean's neck, "You've got me," He says, nipping at Dean neck again, his cock brushing Dean's and only making his desire worsen.

"No, Cas, you don't understand." Dean grabs Castiel's shoulders, twists him around and presses him hard into the bed and switching their positions, "I need to–"

"Fuck me?"

Dean's spine stiffens. His cock is pressing hot and heavy into Castiel's ass, and he places his hands to Castiel's inner knees, spreading them apart on either side.

"C-Can I?" Dean asks, his heart beat picking up rapidly. Dean needs this, so absolutely fucking bad. He needs to find the calm in the storm, he needs to let his feelings go, needs to accept the fact that he just may want to be with Castiel for more than just a hookup.

Castiel's chest hitches, "Please, Dean."

Holy fuck.

Dean smiles, hungrily invading Castiel's mouth again with his tongue, sucking on his bottom lip and taking it in between his teeth. There's a burning heat in his core, and he parts his lips from Castiel.

"Shit, I didn't bring–"

"Side dresser, second drawer."

Dean's eyes widen. Had he prepared for this? Dean shakes his head and ignores the questions going through his mind, leaning over to the side dresser and pulling out a condom and a small bottle of lube. Dean swallows, squirting a small amount of lube onto his hand; this is it. This is what Dean's been waiting for since the moment he got off the God forsaken airplane.

"Wait," Castiel exclaims, his hand pressing against Dean's chest, "I need to...warm up."

Dean furrows his brow, "Warm up? You mean like–"

"I haven't done this in a while."

Oh.

Oh.

Dean sucks a breath in. Now he know's what Castiel means. Dean looks at the drops of lube in his hands, and then he coats one of his fingers, placing it delicately near Castiel's hole. Castiel hisses.

"Is one finger okay?" Dean asks nervously, leaning forward a little until he had access to Castiel's neck, swirling his tongue around the prickly skin. Castiel nods, and Dean takes a breath before pushing his finger in. It's warm, and tight, and strange, but also fucking amazing. Dean's sure he groans louder than Castiel does when the base of his slick finger touches Castiel's ass.

"Oh Dean," Castiel moans, his hand tightening around the back of Dean's neck, crushing Dean's face into Castiel's chest. Dean slowly pulls his finger out and then hastily thrusts it back in, his movements becoming quicker and quicker each time he pushes in until one finger isn't enough, and Dean decides it's a good time to push in another finger. Castiel lets out the most delicate moan as Dean sinks his fingers inside him, slick and fast and wanting.

Dean bites down on his tongue, the sight of Castiel's squirming movements beneath him driving him crazy. Dean thinks for a second, and wonders if Castiel will react the same way a girl would if he curls his fingers. And he does, scissoring inside Castiel for a few more moments until he crooks his fingers, and feels a small bump a little deeper inside him.

"Fuck!" Castiel screams, his back arching almost completely off the bed as his fingers dig into the frail skin of Dean's back, "Dean! Right there!"

The groaning in Dean's ear is getting him closer to his orgasm, the deep, gravely tone of Castiel's whimpers filling Dean's head. He adds a third finger now, following Castiel's request and crooking his fingers like he did before, finding Castiel's sweet spot every time Dean pushes his fingers back in. His slick fingers slide easily inside Castiel now, and Dean's thrusts become more rapid and eager.

Dean kisses Castiel's chest, sucking sweetly at his skin before he finds his nipple and takes it lightly between his teeth. Dean feels the man beneath him begin to tremble.

"Nnngg...Dean!" Castiel squirms beneath him, his nails looking for anything to dig into, and eventually find Dean's hair, "Dean, please! I-I need you."

It's hard for Dean to talk, but that's all Dean needs to hear for him to pull his fingers out and get in front of Castiel, hips pressing into Castiel's bare ass. Castiel is breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling swiftly.

"Been wantin' this so bad, Cas." Dean kisses Castiel's temple as he rolls the condom onto himself, "So fuckin' bad." He groans, pressing his chest to Castiel's, finding a rapid heart beat echo through his core, and he doesn't know whether it's his or Castiel's. Dean takes his throbbing erection into his hand, lube spreading slick around his cock as he lines it up near Castiel's entrance.

And it's almost damn near impossible to hold back the urge to shove himself in, to give Castiel everything he's got. But he relaxes, and lets himself enjoy what he's been waiting for, just rubbing his sleek cock-head against the teased hole.

"Dean, please." Castiel whimpers, hands gripping the bedsheets and his hips thrusting forward, "I can't wait anymore. Please." He begs, and the corner of Dean's lips curl; knowing that this feeling of fury and passion, is mutual.

And that was it for Dean. He feels the fiery, fervent need for him to be inside Cas, and he pushes into Castiel's slow but hard, being engulfed by the tightness and warmth.

"Holy fucking Christ," Dean breathes, his breath ragged and broken by the height of pleasure, "Fuck, Cas, you're so tight."

Castiel's lips are parted when he lets out a breathless moan, clamping his fingers around Dean's hips, "Fuck me, Dean. Please fuck me,"

Dean waits until the base of his cock sinks in, tight and deep, before he begins rolling his hips, one hand gripping the top of the headboard to gain leverage. Dean pulls out slowly, in fear of coming to quickly, but all he really wants to do his screw the shit out of the dude. Castiel's head rolls back, exposing marked skin, purple and red from Dean, and he's squirming and spreading his legs wider.

"Is this okay?" Dean asks, quiet and soothing. He's almost a little embarrassed from asking, but he can't be too sure. Castiel smiles and nods.

"Very okay," He starts, breath hitching and cracking, "Just move."

Finally, Dean thrusts back in and Castiel cries out, one hand tightly clamped around Dean's hip, the other held so unbearably hard onto his right shoulder. And as Dean continues to move, he realizes that this is so much better than anything he's ever felt.

Dean feels Castiel's urgency, his desire, but Dean doesn't let him. Castiel has been torturing him for what seems like years, although it's only been days. Castiel's hips are jutting upwards towards Dean, meeting Dean's thrusts as he goes down, slow and steady against Dean's slick cock. Dean leans down to kiss him, picking up his pace as he rolls his hips into Cas, but Castiel is so lost, so in the moment that he can hardly kiss back, and he's just letting out ragged, choking moans.

"Yes," Cas groans, biting his bottom lip, "Oh, yes, Dean. It-It's so good...god yes!"

Dean wills himself not to come. Listening to Castiel plead, to beg, to squirm, to shake beneath him is what Dean's been aching for, and he can't hold into his pace anymore, and he starts rolling his hips faster, the smacking sound of skin on skin echoing the room.

Castiel's legs continue to spread wider, allowing Dean to go deeper. And soon the bed is fucking squeaking, the top of the headboard banging slightly against the wall as Dean presses his cock inside him. Dean's arms begin to shake, and it's so painfully tantalizing to keep his orgasm in for this long, when in all truth, he could've easily come ten minutes ago.

Castiel wraps his legs around Dean's back, pressing their chests together and Dean feels the wetness of Castiel's cock trapped between him against his belly. Dean eyes him, his lips parted and swollen, trembling every time Dean pushes in, and Dean takes the opportunity, shoving his tongue between his lips. Castiel can barely stifle his moans, and he's groaning into Dean's mouth as Dean's hips pound against him.

Castiel leans back, pressing their foreheads together, "Faster, Dean. Harder."

Dean sucks in a breath, but follows his command, picking up his speed, and now he's fucking into him so hard he thinks they might just in fact break the bed. Dean thrusts deeper, until he hits Castiel's sweet spot again, and Castiel's back arches off the bed, whimpering.

"Right there!" Cas gasps, his hand pulling at Dean's hair, "Oh yes, just like that!" He cries.

Dean feels the familiar twinge in his core, "Cas, I-I'm gonna come, I-I—"

"Come for me, Dean." Castiel whispers, with that damn voice that's been driving Dean crazy. Dean hovers his lips over Castiel's, breathing and gasping against his lips as he uses whatever power left in his body to keep pounding into him; tight and warm, Cas clenching his muscles around Dean's cock. Castiel bucks his hips up, trying to close every inch of air between them, and Dean feels the hot, sticky mess between them, Castiel's shaking hips against his own.

"Shit," Dean starts gasping for air, "Oh, fuck, Cas. Fuck!" His vision starts to blur, the room is almost spinning and now he's just letting his body take over, his hips stuttering into the heat of Castiel's ass, his lungs heaving for air, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly. Dean's noises become unrecognizable, and now the only thing he manages to whimper out his Castiel's name; over and over again until it's just a broken breath for air.

Dean turns into a groaning mess, his jaw clenching, legs shaking, arms trembling. Dean's giving Castiel all he's got now, his hips smacking against the man beneath him. His cock is throbbing inside Castiel, and when Cas clenches his muscles around him, the tightness around Dean's cock increasing, Dean fucking loses it. Castiel attacks Dean's neck, bites and licks across his skin as Dean comes hard into his ass with thick, hot spurts.

Dean's breathing resides, until his arms decide they've had enough for the night and give out. Dean's chest falls on top of Castiel's, and he feels something sticky and hot between their chests.

Shit.

Dean didn't even realize Cas had come already. He'd been so lost, so far from reality that he had almost passed out from coming so hard. Speaking of which; Dean's chest is still heaving in and out with shallow and ragged breaths, and soon, both their breathing syncs.

And as Dean lays on top of the man who had most likely just given him the best orgasm of his life, he realizes two things.

1. He just fucked the absolute shit out of Castiel Milton.

2. He is: so fucking screwed.