Warning: Explicit smut ahead. 😉
Chapter Twenty-Five
"Fuck, right there. Do that again, baby."
Castiel obligingly nailed Dean's prostate again. Dean moaned and attempted to hitch his legs higher around Castiel's waist, his heel slipping in the sweat gathering at the base of Castiel's spine. Castiel sat up on his knees long enough to lift Dean's leg over his shoulder so he could bend his boyfriend in half and pound into him properly.
"Oh, fuck, yes! S-so good. You feel so good, Cas."
Dean's eyes were practically rolling up in his head, his whole body was flushed with arousal and exertion, and his hard cock slapped his stomach with every thrust. He was breathtaking, and Castiel felt his own orgasm getting closer by the second as he watched Dean fall apart beneath him.
"Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he panted. "Are you gonna come on my cock?"
"Yes! Yes, yes, y-"
Knock, knock, knock.
They both froze, Castiel half in and half out of Dean's ass.
Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-
"We hear you, Claire. Just give us one minute please," Castiel called.
She stopped pounding on the door, and he heard the floorboards creaking as she shifted impatiently from foot to foot. He glanced at the alarm clock. Two a.m. She slept for almost five hours this time.
He bit back a groan as he pulled the rest of the way out of the warm, slick home he'd made for himself inside Dean. Dean winced at the sudden emptiness, and Castiel placed an apologetic kiss on Dean's thigh before lowering it gently from his shoulder.
"It's okay," Dean whispered, giving him a reassuring smile. Castiel knew he meant all of it – the discomfort; the indefinitely postponed orgasm; the fact that this was the fourth time this had happened in as many days, and between that and Dean's flu, they hadn't had (uninterrupted) sex since Valentine's Day, more than a week ago. It was all okay because Dean was the most patient, understanding boyfriend in the universe, but if Castiel thought about that for too long, he was either going to cry or kiss Dean stupid, and they didn't have time for either one right now.
They cleaned up the lube and put on pajamas as quickly as possible. Instead of putting on his t-shirt, Castiel balled it up and held it in front of his crotch to hide what was left of his erection. Glancing at Dean to make sure it was safe to open the door, he found his boyfriend performing a similar cover-up with a pillow. Under other circumstances, it would have been hilarious.
As soon as the door opened, Claire bolted through it, clambered onto the bed, and attached herself to Dean like a koala. Castiel closed the door and went to turn on the night light while Dean rubbed Claire's back and murmured soothingly to her. "It's alright. You're safe. It was just a bad dream. Cas and I won't let anything bad happen to you."
It had been like this every night since Dean recovered from his flu and started sleeping over again. She never put up a fight about bedtime, but some time between midnight and dawn, she inevitably woke up and could only get back to sleep if she was snuggled between Castiel and Dean in their big bed. She had at least conceded to having the light off once Castiel bought a night light for his room.
Claire sniffed Dean's shirt and scrunched up her nose disapprovingly.
Dean laughed. "You hear that, Cas? She says we stink."
"I'm sure we do," Castiel said with a weary chuckle.
His dick had thankfully gotten the message that it wasn't getting any more action tonight, so he put on his shirt before turning off the lamp and climbing into bed, pulling the blankets over the three of them. Four if you counted the poor stuffed cat squashed face first into Dean's sweaty armpit.
Claire apparently decided that the smell was tolerable and put her head down on Dean's shoulder again. Reaching blindly behind her, she tugged on Castiel's arm until it was draped over her and Dean. Then she finally relaxed with a deep sigh.
"Do you want to tell us about your nightmare?" Castiel asked even though he already knew what the answer would be.
She untangled one hand from the blankets, and by the soft glow of the night light, he saw her pinch her fingers together in the sign for no.
"Okay. That's fine." He kissed the top of her head and smoothed her hair off her face. "Try to get some more sleep. Dean and I will be right here if you need us."
"We got you, kid," Dean seconded. "If any nightmares try to horn in on this cuddle pile, we'll kick their butts."
That actually got a quiet giggle out of her, the sound healing over some of the cracks in Castiel's heart. He squeezed Dean's hip in silent gratitude.
Dr. Bradbury had cautioned him against blaming himself for this renewed bout of nightmares. "You are doing your very best to provide a safe, stable environment for her, Castiel, and you are doing an amazing job. But you cannot protect her from all triggers, and it isn't healthy or helpful to fall into a self recrimination spiral every time she has difficulties like these. Don't worry about what you could have done to prevent this. Focus on what you can do now to help her through it."
He tried, but he kept flashing back to that moment, the single most terrifying moment of his life, when he saw Claire's empty chair and abandoned backpack. He should never have gone out to the dining room that night. He should never have left her alone and vulnerable. He still didn't know what happened in Naomi's office. Claire didn't want to talk about it, and Dr. Bradbury agreed with him that pushing her was not the answer. If something bad had happened, she would open up about it in her own time. Unfortunately, that left Castiel's imagination to run wild in the meantime.
The doctor also wasn't as convinced as Castiel that these nightmares were Naomi's doing. "It could definitely be a factor, but a number of unsettling and potentially triggering things have happened in the past couple weeks. Your encounter with the homophobic woman in the restaurant; Dean getting sick; the argument Claire witnessed between the two of you. Any of those things or a combination of all of them could be causing this."
Which did not make Castiel feel better. In fact, now he had two more things to berate himself for: arguing with Dean in front of Claire, and freezing up while the homophobic woman was ranting at them instead of getting Claire away from her and her poisonous words as fast as possible.
Gradually, Claire's breathing grew slow and deep, and her little body went limp. Castiel looked at Dean and found Dean already watching him in the semi-darkness. He reached out to caress Dean's cheek, careful not to jostle Claire.
"Cas, I swear if you're about to apologize to me again," Dean whispered.
"I'm not. I promise."
"Good, 'cus I can't whack you with a pillow without waking the kid."
Castiel smothered his laughter in his shoulder. God, he loved this man. If Dean didn't get around to proposing some time this year, Castiel might just get down on one knee himself. "I was actually going to say thank you."
Dean's self-conscious shrug was almost invisible in the dark. "Don't have to do that either."
"I know, but I want to. Dean, I… you have to understand that when Claire came to live with me in November, I more or less resigned myself to being single until she left for college. It wasn't just the issue of her physical safety. I could never truly love someone who saw her as a burden or an inconvenience, someone who waited impatiently for her to go to bed so we could finally watch something other than Lilo and Stitch while we fooled around on the couch."
It was Dean's turn to stifle a laugh, but he sobered quickly when Castiel continued.
"My mother… People think kids don't notice that kind of thing, but Jimmy and I could always tell when Mama's boyfriends resented us and wished we weren't in the picture. It hurt all the more because we didn't fully understand that we weren't doing anything wrong, that it wasn't our fault. I wasn't going to subject Claire to that, not ever. I would rather die alone. But then you came along, and you completely upended all my expectations about what a partner could be. You don't just put up with her because it's the price of dating me. You love both of us, and you have never made either of us feel like we're too much."
"Because you're not."
They were both whispering so as not to disturb Claire, and it made the moment feel intimate in an entirely different way than what they'd been doing a little while ago. It was so easy to imagine that they'd been doing this for years, that they'd planned to have this child together, longingly anticipating the sleepless nights with a warm little body tucked between them.
"To you, but to someone else, we would be."
"Then that person doesn't deserve either of you."
Castiel sighed and shifted to rest his head on Dean's pillow, their foreheads pressed together. "I don't disagree, Dean. I'm just trying to explain why this is a big deal to me. I'm not used to having this kind of support. Or any support really."
Dean gave a quiet grunt of displeasure and kissed the bridge of Castiel's nose. "Well, get used to it because I'm not going anywhere."
Castiel smiled. "You know, I think I'm starting to actually believe that."
~o0o~
The next day was Sunday, and to Castiel's relief, Claire was not only willing but eager to go back to ASL class.
Sam came with them too. He looked about as comfortable as a moose in a china shop, trying to keep his gangly limbs from knocking into innocent bystanders as he imitated the signs Miss Eileen was showing them, but he persisted gamely. When Miss Eileen came over to gently correct some of his finger shapes, he blushed bright pink and fumblingly signed 'thank you'. (Which she also corrected with an amused smile that made Castiel suspect Sam had accidentally said 'fuck you' or something.)
"So are you gonna go talk to her?" Dean asked as the class broke up with the usual reminders to practice both at home and out in the world.
"W-what? Why? I don't—" Sam stammered, turning pink all over again.
"She can read lips, you know," Castiel couldn't resist chiming in. "You don't need to be fluent in sign language to ask her out."
"Maybe you can ask if she does private tutoring," Dean snickered.
Sam turned crimson, but he cast another furtive glance in the teacher's direction so Castiel was pretty sure he was considering it.
Claire waved to someone across the room. Surprised, Castiel turned to follow her line of sight and saw little Tasha Baines waving shyly back at Claire. Tasha tugged on her dads' hands and quickly signed something when she had their attention. Max and Aaron smiled and nodded, and the three of them made their way over to Castiel, Dean, Claire, and Sam.
"Hey, guys," Max said. "We missed you last week."
"Oh, um, thank you," Castiel said, oddly touched that their absence had been noticed. Though he supposed he would have noticed too if he and Dean were suddenly the only gay couple in the group, but it was still nice. "Dean came down with the flu, and Claire was feeling tired as well, so we decided to stay home. But everyone's feeling much better now." Well, apart from Claire's chronic nightmares and the toll they were taking on everyone's sleep (and sex life), but Castiel didn't see any need to mention that in public.
"Glad to hear it." Max smiled kindly at Sam who was hovering awkwardly on the edge of the conversation. "Hi. I don't think we've met."
"This is my brother Sam," Dean jumped in. "Sammy, this is Max and Aaron, and their daughter Tasha."
"Nice to meet you," Sam said, shaking hands with Max and Aaron and giving Tasha a little wave.
"We were about to head to the park to let this one run off some energy," Max said, ruffling his daughter's flyaway curls. "You guys want to join us?"
Claire practically dislocated Castiel's shoulder tugging on his arm as she frantically signed 'please'.
"Alright, alright," Castiel laughed. "We can go to the park. There's no need to tear my arm off."
Claire actually jumped for joy.
There was a playground just a couple blocks from the community center where the class was held. Claire and Tasha were permitted to run ahead a little as long as they stayed in the adults' sight. The girls held hands, playing hopscotch with weed-filled sidewalk cracks and competing to see who could hop farther on one foot. Somehow, despite the age gap and without a word spoken between them, they had become fast friends. Watching the carefree joy on Claire's face, Castiel resolved to nurture this friendship in any way he could.
Obviously thinking along similar lines, Max said, "Amazing how kids can go from strangers to best friends in about five minutes, isn't it?"
"They don't have our trust issues yet," Dean chuckled. He had his arm around Castiel's shoulders as they walked, and the contact was comforting despite (or maybe because of) the pent up sexual frustration buzzing under Castiel's skin.
Sam and Aaron were a few paces behind, deep in conversation about something literary. It seemed everyone was making new friends today.
"In all seriousness, it's really good to see Tash socializing like this," Max said. "She has a hard time with other kids. She gets frustrated when she can't communicate with them right away, or they get impatient with her. We had to pull her out of school because it was making her so miserable. She's done really well with homeschooling, but Aaron and I worry that she's not getting enough of this side of things, you know?"
"I worry about that with Claire as well," Castiel admitted. "She seems perfectly happy alone with her toys and books, and I know not every kid is a social butterfly, but I think she must be at least a little bit lonely. I'm glad they found each other."
"They just needed someone who speaks their language," Dean said quietly.
"Exactly." Castiel reached up to squeeze the hand resting on his shoulder. He wondered if Dean was thinking of his own struggle with mutism as a child and wishing someone had thought to teach him sign language or introduce him to other kids with similar disabilities instead of leaving him alone in his silence.
Max nodded and said with a small smile, "Don't we all."
When they got to the park, Claire dragged Dean off to push her and Tasha on the swings. Aaron and Sam sat down on a nearby bench, still absorbed in their book talk. That left Castiel to socialize with Max, but before he could get too paralyzed with anxiety, Max said, "Hey, I don't mean to pry, but are uh… are you and Dean okay?"
Castiel blinked in surprise. "Yes, we're fine. Why?"
Max shrugged. "I'm sensing some tension. I realize we barely know each other, and I swear I'm not trying to get in the middle of your relationship. I just thought you might want someone to talk to about it."
Castiel relaxed somewhat. "It's not terribly dramatic. We just had a small fight while Dean was sick. It was really nothing. Just normal stress exacerbated by some trauma triggers. We've talked it out and forgiven each other, and honestly, our relationship is stronger than ever because of it. But around the same time, Claire started having nightmares. Frequently. Every night for the past week she has ended up in our bed, so we haven't really had the time or the privacy for…"
"Ah. No passionate make-up sex."
"Not for lack of trying. She has a knack for interrupting at the worst possible moment."
Max laughed. "Yeah, kids are talented like that. I'll never forget the night Tash figured out how to climb out of her crib and waltzed her little butt into our room while we were in the middle of some adult fun. We bought a toddler bed the next day and started locking our door so she would at least have to knock. But anyway, back to your situation. Is there anyone who could take Claire for a night so you guys can have some alone time?"
Castiel shook his head. "No. I mean, there are people who would." Missouri or Anna would be more than happy to help out. "But she's only just settled in with us. I fear that a night away from home would be too triggering for her at this stage."
Max's expression registered surprise. "You adopted her recently?"
"Four months ago." It felt like much longer. His days of child free single-hood seemed like another life.
"Oh. Wow. So this is all really new for you guys."
"I was in her life before that. She's my biological niece. I've known her since she was born, but it's… it's different being her parent and full time caregiver. And she's going through so much right now." Castiel shook his head, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. "It's selfish to be worrying about my sex life while she's traumatized and grieving."
"It's not. You need some stress relief in order to be a good parent or you'll burn yourself out. Believe me, Aaron and I learned that the hard way. And, tell me if I'm overstepping here, but if she's your niece and she recently lost her family, then… you lost someone too, didn't you? You're grieving too." Max's voice was soft and kind. "When my mom died, I couldn't have gotten through it without Aaron. Your relationship with Dean is an important part of your support system, and sex? I mean, it isn't everything but it isn't nothing either. It's part of how you stay connected as a couple."
"I know that, but I can't get what I need at the expense of her needs. If sleeping in our bed is the only way she feels safe, then I won't tell her no."
Max held up his hands. "I'm not saying you should. But something's gotta give. You, mister, are wound way too tight, and I'm saying that as someone who barely knows you. And, by the way, she also needs a happy, healthy dad."
Castiel forced himself to take a breath and let go of his defensiveness. "I know," he said more calmly this time. "I know this isn't sustainable. I just…" He looked over to where Dean was pushing the girls on the swings. Claire was laughing, her hair flying in the wind. "I just love her so much. I've always loved her, but this is different. It's…"
"Terrifying? All consuming? Like her being even the tiniest bit unhappy is unacceptable and you have to do everything in your power to fix it? Like you would cut your own heart to pieces to patch the cracks in hers?"
"Exactly."
Max nodded and patted Castiel's shoulder. "Welcome to parenthood. It never gets easier."
Castiel smiled wryly.
They watched their kids in comfortable silence for a moment. Then Max added quietly, "But it might get a little bit easier if you and Dean both took a day off so you can spend some quality time together while Claire is in school. Well… maybe not easier, but definitely less hard."
Castiel burst out laughing. Dean turned towards the sound, and for a second Castiel half expected to see a flash of jealousy or annoyance on his boyfriend's face. Bart was always accusing Castiel of flirting if he laughed at another man's jokes. (Ironic considering who actually cheated on whom in the end.) But Dean only smiled, happy to see Castiel happy. Castiel smiled back.
Yes, they were going to be just fine.
~o0o~
Even though Castiel had been relieved to postpone the meeting with the McLeods, that unfortunately also gave him more time to dread it with the result that by Monday morning he was as tense as a violin string. (The sleep and sex deprivation wasn't helping either.)
Sensing that Castiel was in no mood to talk, Dean fell into the role of sous chef rather than boyfriend as they prepped their samples in the otherwise deserted restaurant kitchen. However, he did sneak in the occasional light, grounding touch to Castiel's elbow or the small of his back. Castiel resolved to demonstrate his appreciation later. If they managed to wrap up this meeting quickly, they would have a couple hours before he had to pick Claire up from school, and he could think of several very pleasant ways to spend that time, none of them involving clothes. Except perhaps the red lace panties.
That thought cheered him up enough that he was able to greet the McLeods with a very nearly genuine smile on his face. "Mr. and Mrs. McLeod. Welcome. Thank you so much for your patience."
"Not at all," Fergus said genially. "Naomi told us that you recently adopted a little girl. Children can certainly complicate one's schedule."
Castiel's smile froze. Naomi had been discussing his personal life. Again. He wasn't sure why that felt like such a violation. People gossiped. It was natural, and it wasn't as though his adoption of Claire or his relationship with Dean were secrets, but… but it was the fucking McLeods! They already had more access to him than he was completely comfortable with.
"And who's this tall drink of water?" Rowena purred, holding her hand out to Dean as her eyes slid appraisingly up and down his body.
Something hot and dangerous flared up inside Castiel as he watched her mentally undress his boyfriend, but just like with the young waitress at the bistro, Dean gave no indication that he even noticed her interest. Taking the offered hand, he smiled with bland politeness, not even the calculated charm he often used to butter people up. "Dean Winchester, ma'am. Sous chef."
Castiel had to school his face very carefully so he wouldn't look too obviously smug. That's right. Fantasize all you want, but a polite handshake is the closest you'll ever get to touching what's mine.
Unlike the waitress however, Rowena didn't take the hint. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows arched coyly. "Ma'am? Well, aren't you the old-fashioned gentleman. Isn't he adorable, Fergus?"
"He's certainly something," Mr. McLeod said, giving Dean an appraising look of his own, but this was a slightly different kind of appraisal. Less sexual desire and more… threat assessment. It caused an unpleasant chill to curl up Castiel's spine.
Gathering the armor of professionalism around him, Castiel gestured towards the kitchen. "If you'll come this way, I've prepared the chef's table for you."
He swore their eyes actually lit up greedily at those words. In some upscale restaurants, the chef's table could be reserved like any other table provided you a) had obscene amounts of money or b) knew the right people, but not at Paradis. Castiel refused to turn his kitchen into some kind of dinner theater with customers gawking at him and his staff while they worked. So being invited into Castiel's domain was an honor that had never been extended to anyone who wasn't an employee of Paradis, and especially not the McLeods.
Truthfully, this one-time-only exception had nothing to do with honor or money. If the meeting was held in the kitchen, there would be no need to go back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, and neither Castiel nor Dean would ever have to be alone with their guests for even a moment. But Castiel saw no reason to disillusion them. If his safety precaution could also stroke their egos and keep them happy, so much the better.
Dean squeezed Castiel's arm surreptitiously as they all made their way through the swinging doors that separated the honeyed wood and warm lighting of the dining room from the gleaming steel of the kitchen. Castiel gave him a grateful smile. Just one more hour, and then he could tell the McLeods to fuck off (maybe not in those exact words), take Dean home, and lose himself in his lover's warm, strong body until this cold, crawling feeling under his skin went away.
Forty minutes later, Castiel was seriously considering stabbing someone with a fork. Naomi, one or both of the McLeods… all three of them?
From one perspective, the meeting was going well. The McLeods loved the spicy French-Moroccan twist Dean had brought to the Paradis menu, and they wanted to make that the theme of the party. Dean's dual talents for food and people were shining through spectacularly as he steered them towards dishes that were elegant yet easy to prepare in large quantities, and even a few that could be done ahead of time and served cold, limiting the strain on the kitchen staff who would be simultaneously catering the private party and serving the regular dinner crowd.
Under better circumstances, Castiel would have enjoyed this immensely. Dean in his element was something to see. But these weren't better circumstances.
There was Rowena's shameless flirting, for one. Asking Dean if he "liked it hot" when they discussed spicy food. Coyly mentioning that raw fish was said to be an aphrodisiac when they discussed a salmon tartare appetizer. Dean deflected expertly, pretending that the barely concealed subtext went over his head, but he was clearly uncomfortable, and Castiel was helpless to protect him without jeopardizing both their jobs.
And then there was Fergus McLeod. His cold, calculating gaze barely left Dean for a moment. Castiel didn't think it was jealousy. The man watched his wife flirt with other people all the time. He enjoyed it. Hell, he participated in it. So what was it about Dean that so threatened him? Castiel couldn't figure it out, and that left him feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.
But worst of all was Naomi. She was suddenly Dean's biggest fan. She praised his contributions to the new menu (never mind that she'd tried to veto most of them as too pedestrian), his people skills, and his ability to improvise in a crisis like the night the kitchen ran out of scallops and Dean invented on the spot an imitation version using king oyster mushrooms that was so close to the real thing even Castiel swore he wouldn't be able to tell the difference in a blind taste test. At the time, Naomi had accused Dean of wasting time and ingredients on a foolish experiment, but it wasn't just her hypocrisy that got on Castiel's nerves. It was the way she deliberately stoked the McLeods' interest in Dean, serving him up to them like a juicy steak. Or a sacrifice to the gods.
At last, they moved on to desserts, and Castiel darted a glance at the clock. Twenty minutes to go. He wasn't going to make it. If he had to watch Dean tactfully dodge one more unwanted touch from Mrs. McLeod, he really was going to stab her. He couldn't even excuse himself to the pantry to clear his head. He couldn't leave Dean alone.
Rowena was going on about chocolate and strawberries (where the hell were they supposed to get good strawberries in the dead of winter), and without missing a beat in the conversation, Dean reached under the table and squeezed Castiel's thigh. And just like that, Castiel could breathe again. He rested his hand on top of Dean's, keeping it right there for the next twenty minutes. He didn't care even a little what Naomi thought about it, or the McLeods either for that matter.
When the meeting was finally over, Naomi walked the McLeods out while Castiel and Dean stayed behind to tidy up the kitchen. But instead of tidying, Castiel pulled Dean into his arms. "I am so so sorry, sweetheart."
"You don't have to apologize, Cas," Dean said, but the way he held Castiel a little too tight said otherwise.
"Can I make it up to you when we get home?" Castiel asked, stroking up and down Dean's spine, soothing the tension he found there.
"Hmmm. What did you have in mind?"
~o0o~
"Fuck, right there. Yeah, baby." Dean threw back his head and moaned shamelessly loud as Castiel nailed the sweet spot just right.
Castiel lightly swatted one lace-covered ass cheek. "Keep your eyes open. You're supposed to be watching."
Dean's head popped back up, green eyes locking onto blue in the mirror above the dresser. Castiel had positioned them just right with Dean on his knees in the center of the bed and Castiel fucking into him from behind, and the mirror reflected everything in pornographic detail from the rosy flush painting Dean's skin almost the same color as the red lace panties, to the way said panties were pressing a delicate pattern of lacy bruises into Dean's hips where Castiel had roughly twisted the fabric aside to expose his ass. (The elastic had a surprising amount of give. They really were very well designed.)
Castiel had not been prepared for how much of a turn-on it would be to watch himself fuck Dean. Maybe he should float the idea of making a sex tape. He had never entertained the idea with any of his previous partners, but he trusted Dean more than he had ever trusted anyone else in his life. Even if they did break up one day, Dean wasn't the type to use a sex tape for petty revenge. He didn't have that kind of cruelty in him.
"Fuck, Cas." Dean's focus was slipping again, lost to bliss as Castiel pounded him fast and dirty.
"Don't you dare look away," Castiel growled. With the hand not bracing Dean's hip, he gripped the other man's chin and forced him to keep watching their mirror selves. "God, you're so beautiful, Dean. And you're mine. All mine. I want to wreck you. I want to cover you in come and hickies and take pictures that I will never show to anyone because they don't deserve to see you like this. This is mine."
Okay, so maybe he was feeling a touch possessive after an hour spent watching Mrs. McLeod hit on his boyfriend with decreasing subtlety, but Dean was clearly into it. (Castiel's possessiveness, that is; not Mrs. McLeod.) His cock twitched hard beneath the lace, and he gave a needy whine.
"You like that?" Castiel purred in his ear. "You want me to make you mine so no one else can ever touch you again?"
"Don't want anyone else. Just you. Ah!" Dean's eyes closed momentarily as Castiel thrust into him hard, but they flew right open again and found Castiel's unerringly. "Take me, baby. Mark me up. Let everyone know I'm yours."
Castiel didn't need to be asked twice. With no thought for propriety or professionalism, he sucked and nibbled a hickey high on Dean's neck where even the collar of his chef's coat wouldn't be able to hide it.
Dean gave a strangled cry, the only warning before he soaked the panties with his release completely untouched. Castiel thrust into his lover's lax, trembling body a few more times, thighs and back burning with exertion, and then his first truly satisfying orgasm in weeks ripped through him. He wouldn't be surprised if his soul actually left his body for a few seconds. He swore he heard choirs of angels, but that might just be the ringing in his ears.
When Castiel let go of him, Dean immediately face planted into the mattress. The panties were still twisted askew, revealing his swollen, abused hole and Castiel's come trickling out of him. Castiel reached out to rub the pad of his thumb over it, making Dean squirm and groan, "Jesus, you tryna kill me, Cas?"
"Just admiring my work."
"Well, take your picture quick. I want to get out of these panties before they get all crusty."
Castiel scrambled off the bed and located his phone with lightning speed. Dean gave him a coy smile over one shoulder, making what could only be called 'bedroom eyes' at the camera. Castiel snapped several photos, including a close-up of Dean's ass in the ruined panties. Then he helped Dean peel them off before rapidly drying spunk glued them to his pubic hair.
Castiel reverently traced the red marks on Dean's skin. "I can put some cream on these if you'd like."
"Uh uh," Dean mumbled drowsily. "Wanna keep 'em as long as I can."
If Castiel was fifteen years younger, he would have gotten hard again right then.
Once they were both cleaned up, they curled up under the covers to indulge in some naked cuddling before Castiel had to pick Claire up from school. "Fuck, I needed this," Castiel sighed contentedly. He hadn't even realized just how tightly wound he was until he wasn't anymore. His muscles felt like melted caramel.
"You and me both, baby," Dean murmured into Castiel's hair.
"And it was okay what I did with the mirror?" Castiel asked, suddenly nervous. Sure, Dean had seemed to enjoy it in the moment, but it was very different from anything they'd done before. Maybe they should have talked more first.
"I probably spent more time watching you than, y'know, myself," Dean admitted, "but you were right. I look pretty good in panties. And when you got all growly and commanding every time I forgot to keep my eyes open? Man, that was fucking hot!"
"Good. And the, uh," Castiel's face flushed with embarrassment, "the spanking?" He had surprised himself with that move.
Dean snorted. "Sweetheart, that wasn't spanking. That was a love tap, and it was more than okay. I would have told you if it actually hurt."
Satisfied that Dean had enjoyed everything that just happened as much as he had, Castiel relaxed into his boyfriend's embrace, and they cuddled in comfortable silence.
At least until Dean said, "So you really weren't exaggerating about the McLeods. Does every word out of their mouths sound like an innuendo or is it just me?"
Castiel groaned. "Please don't talk about the McLeods while I'm naked in bed with you. It's ruining my afterglow."
"Sorry, sorry." Dean gave him an apologetic peck on the lips.
"Are you staying for dinner tonight?" Castiel asked, thinking that a different topic of conversation might help keep things on track. "I was thinking of making roasted red pepper soup and turkey sandwiches."
"I can't tonight," Dean said regretfully. "Some guys from Sam's NA group are throwing him a party 'cus he's getting his nine year sobriety chip, and he really wants me to be there. I would have told you sooner, but he needed to double check that it was okay to invite an outsider, and he only let me know this morning, and then we had the meeting, and then, well…" He looked down at their naked bodies.
"It's okay, Dean," Castiel assured him with a smile. "Of course you should be there for Sam. Nine years is a big accomplishment."
"Yeah, it is. God, I'm so proud of him." Dean pushed himself up on one elbow and smiled down at Castiel. "Hey, in case I haven't said it recently, thanks for being so supportive about all the Sam stuff. It means the world to me."
Castiel reached up to stroke Dean's cheek. "It's been easier than I expected. I actually like him. And I have a great deal of respect for how hard he's worked to turn his life around."
"So he's invited to our hypothetical wedding?" It was only half a joke.
"He's definitely invited to our hypothetical wedding," Castiel agreed. "And all future Christmases."
Dean kissed him, soft and sweet and lingering. "I really am going to marry you one day, you know," he murmured when they parted.
Castiel grinned and brushed the tip of his nose against Dean's. "Not if I marry you first."