Contours of the ruffles at the back of Dean’s panties showed through his jeans as he leaned into the trunk, putting away his shotgun and an impressive machete; someone as beautiful as Dean should be more fragile than this, and his strength made Cas proud to call him his. Cas’ hand settled possessively onto the curve of Dean’s ass, caressing him and imagining taking him just like this, over the spread of weapons, fingers slipping beneath the elastic of those panties so he could pull Dean onto his dick.
Dean’s eyes were round and startlingly blue when he leaned back into Cas with a purr. His long eyelashes fluttered as Cas pressed his erection against the denim seam, his hand reaching around to cup Dean’s chest, thumb rubbing across his nipple as Dean’s back arched.
“Did good,” Dean whispered, giving Cas access to his neck as he wound his fingers together with Cas’ over his breast; his words were a question, a search for approval, and Cas gave him what he needed.
"You do this every night, Dean," Cas growls into Dean’s ear and Dean would snap something back if it weren’t for the way the world still reeled at the edge of his vision, or the dry wad of cloth shoved almost too far into his mouth, his legs are kicked apart and Dean automatically arches back just the way he knows Cas likes.
His jeans are gone and Dean doesn’t know how that happened, doesn’t care how it happened, not with Cas pressing hard and way too dry into him, his dick slicked with only the little spit Dean had managed to get on him before being yanked to his feet and thrown against the alley wall, “I’m beginning to think you’re doing it on purpose, Dean.”
It’s fucking perfect, Dean’s eyes roll back as Cas slams in, the burning pain of it eating away at the edges of inebriation that hadn’t fled the instant the angel had pulled him out of the bar, he’s a whimpering mess of want as Cas starts up a brutally fast pace that smacks him into the wall, Dean’s dick pressing against the brick tantalizingly.
"Is that it, Dean," Cas growls the question, demanding answers he knows Dean can’t give gagged, hands raising bruises as they pin him to the wall, not allowing Dean to move at all as he’s fucked, "do you do it on purpose, knowing what I’ll do to you when I catch you?"
The tie’s soaked with his saliva and some of it escapes to drip down his face, the only sensation Dean can concentrate on that isn’t Cas’ dick fucking him open, the words as meaningless as the bottle of vodka he’d almost managed to finish by himself earlier, Dean’s scream as he comes —untouched— is muffled but Cas’ answering groan of completion isn’t.
So maybe the side of the highway wasn’t the best place to pull over and pin Cas to the inside of the passenger side door, but Dean’s frustration had gotten the better of him and something had to give - it was probably a good thing that when he snapped, it was less anger and a whole lot more unresolved sexual tension breaking. He surprised himself when his mouth pressed to Cas’, but what was even more surprising was when Cas’ lips parted and the angel actually groaned into the kiss. Dean’s body responded purely on instinct, grinding down against Cas, his hands worked at a frantic pace to get them both pantsless at the very least, and Cas seemed to be doing his best to help that cause. Cas was quicker than Dean, pushing his pants aside and gripping the hunter’s cock with the kind of skill Dean would have never imagined he could have; and he’d never admit it, but it took a hell of a lot of focus not to spill his load right that very second. Oh, but he was glad he waited, waited until he could get his hand around Cas’ cock, waited until the two of them were writhing and groaning and rocking against each other, waited until Cas said those three words that Dean had always been afraid of… until he found himself repeating them back and coming sudden and unexpectedly over his angel’s fist.
The hunter reached across the angel, pausing half-way when Cas spoke up, “Dean, that tingles.” It didn’t take long for Dean to pinpoint exactly what was tingling, to wedge his hand up the angel’s shirt and stroke his fingertips over Cas’ bare nipples until he responded again, “I’m feeling warm, Dean.” Which only prompted him to get Cas’ shirt out of the way so he could swipe his tongue along the raised peaks and then blow cool and slow over them, making Cas squeak and grip him, “That does not make me less warm… Dean… Dean, what are you…” He squeaked again as Dean scraped his teeth along the angel’s nipples, pressing his hands into Cas’ hands and straddling his lap to keep him still, but letting him continue talking all he wanted, “It feels… Dean, it feels… it’s very…” “Good?” Dean chuckled against his skin, grinding down into Cas’ growing erection; yeah, definitely felt good.
Dean moves purely by touch to keep from burning his eyes out, but a blindfold is more than worth the reward of hearing Castiel cry out sharply every time Dean’s fingers graze the sensitive arch of his wings. Dean’s tongue slides along the raised nub of Cas’ nipple and the angel’s back bows inward to press against the hunter’s mouth, his fingers itch to grip Dean’s head but have to settle for the length of rope binding his wrists to the headboard. He cries out “more” and Dean obliges, tightening his fingers in Cas’ feathers and grazing the angel’s nipple with his teeth, groaning when the jerking of the angel’s hips grinds his erection against Dean’s stomach. “More…” Cas pants and whines and practically growls and Dean himself is losing patience with all the teasing. He crawls up, slotting his thighs against Cas’, their cocks rubbing together as his hands slide down to pinch and twist at the angels nipples; and where his hands have vacated, Dean’s lips take up residence, not surprised when the heat of his mouth along the angel’s wings causes the both of them to tense up and cry out as the pleasure overwhelms them in a rush of heat and magic.
The buttons of Cas’ shirt go flying in every direction as Dean slams him against the flour covered table, not even caring that he’s making a mess of the kitchen because the very idea that Cas was in her trying to bake him a pie pushes every other thought from Dean’s mind. His lips bruise Cas’ as his hands work open the angel’s pants so that he can get a better grip on the thickness of Cas’ quickly hardening cock, so that he can wrap his hand around both of them once he wiggles his pants down over his hips and his own cock springs free. Cas manages to gasp out something like “it’s cherry” between kisses, as if Dean cares right now what kind of pie it is; what Dean cares about right now is the way that sugar and flour taste on Cas’ skin, and the sharp gasping noises Dean makes as he licks the gooey red filling from the angel’s skin when he flips Cas to his stomach against the side of the table. Every tiny sound Cas makes blows the powdery baking remains around the kitchen, but Dean’s mouth and fingers work him open anyway, not caring if it’s their passion or the warmth of the stove heating up the little kitchen and making sweat drip down his face. He pushes into Cas in a hurry, as if they’re racing the ticking timer that goes flying across the room when Cas grapples for some sort of hold when Dean starts pumping into him… and maybe they really are, because the sound of the buzzer and the announcement that the pie’s done startles Dean into climax and Cas follows right after him, making a whole new kind of mess in their dirty little kitchen.
There’s a certain amount of smugness in Dean’s expression as Castiel slides down around him, palms braced against the headboard as Dean fills him up and Castiel drops his head forward, panting softly. For a while, they move slowly; Dean’s hips rock up a little bit but mostly he just lets Cas control the pace that he grinds down with, smirking as the angel’s hips grow more and more frantic with every passing second. When the headboard cracks under Castiel’s grip, Dean mostly ignores it, focusing instead on the heat and friction between them, his fingers gripping tight to Castiel’s hips as the angel speeds up again. It’s a bit harder to ignore the way that the windows rattle in their frames, threatening to shatter as Cas’ moans grow louder and more prominent; but Cas’ eyes are wide and blown with lust, his body hot and sweaty, and the rhythm between them making it too hard to stop no matter what might happen. And what might happen, does happen; Dean comes first, but Castiel comes better, shattering the glass in the room, shaking the whole motel, breaking the bed, and somehow finding just enough focus to cover Dean’s face before his Grace bursts out of him for a split second; and, yeah, despite all that… totally worth it.
Discreet has never really been Dean’s strong suit when it came to sex, and Sam is tired of making a big deal out of it all the time and getting nothing in return, so when Dean tugs Cas under the blanket with him, Sam rolls his eyes and scoots to the other side of the couch. Cas’ hands are clasped tightly against his bent knee and his eyes are gazing intently at the TV, or maybe just in that general direction, because Sam can tell that he’s trying too hard to focus and not picking up a single thing that’s happening outside of the blanket covering his lap. Beneath the blanket is the unmistakable rustling of pants coming open, fabric pushed aside, and the muted slide of skin on skin beneath the bowed tent of the blanket over what is without a doubt his brother’s hand curled around Castiel’s stiff cock. Dean isn’t really as subtle as he thinks he is, his body launguage is all leaning toward Cas, eyes barely on the movie, more of his focus on rubbing against the angel than pretending like the movie is even a little bit interesting to him. At this point, it’s not a surprise when Cas squeaks, squirms and tenses, or when both of their heads turn to see if Sam noticed; and he just rolls his eyes and gets up, turning off the TV and heading back toward his room, “You better not have jizzed on my blanket”.
Dean didn’t want it to be like this for her, spread out in the back of the Impala and wondering if it’s always like this; but he can’t help being turned on by how completely perfect she looks flushed and excited and sprawled out naked inside his Baby. Dean shucks his pants and climbs in on top of her, tugging the door shut behind him; she gasps softly against his lips as his cock presses hard and impatient against her thigh. The blown out look of complete awe and wonder on her face just makes him more and more impatient, but Dean slides his hand between them first and teases at her slit, making sure she’s really damp and ready for him. Cas gasps again and, when Dean drops his head down to draw her nipple gentle between his teeth, she moans and clings to him, fingers digging into his shoulders and hips bucking up against him. It’s perfect this way, Dean thinks, nuzzling against her throat and drawing her thighs up around his hips as he pushes into her with an intense grunt, this was how she was always meant to be… with him.