“Dean,” Cas’ voice rumbled from beneath the hood. “Concentrate.”
Dean was definitely concentrating — maybe not on the spell they were supposed to be getting ready to do; maybe not on the witch they were supposed to gank — but he was definitely focusing. His fingertips twitched at his sides, palms tingling with the imagined feel of pushing off the hood of Cas’ robe and running his fingers through his soft hair… it had to be soft, right?, he was an angel, so it was going to be soft as he stroked along the shell of his ear, as he took his time with him.
Wait… Dean could practically see Cas’ annoyingly confused face if he tried to romance him like his regular hook-ups; Cas was a freakin’ angel battle machine (tight ass, piercing eyes, amazing lips, nice hands, and all), so maybe Dean should just take a handful and yank his head back, breathe along Cas’ neck and just take him. Yeah; Dean’s dick agreed with this plan.
“I recall that you said something to me once, and I didn’t understand it at the time,” Cas said, drawing Dean out of his fantasy. “The last person who looked at me like that got laid. I understand now,” he said, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a half smile.
“I want to be yours,” Dean whispers, and the whisper rings in his ears like a blasphemy, like he might as well throw himself down for punishment now.
But Castiel stops, cold, looking down, and after a long pause says, “I’m listening.”
“I want to throw myself at your feet,” says Dean, “I want to worship you, your … your beauty and your holiness … you’re so righteous, and I’m just a sinner, see, see, Cas, what a sinner I am.”
He turns his face up to Castiel’s, sits up straight so Castiel can see how fiercely he’s jacking his fist, how with each word of praise he’s been getting more and more breathless with lust until he couldn’t help but touch himself.
“And this is how the sinner does penance unto me?” Castiel says, and he kneels to get a better view before murmuring, “Go on,” and parting his lips.
“You will bow down and profess your love unto me,” Castiel had said, and with all of the dread that the words planted in Dean’s heart, there was a part of him that wanted to get to his knees immediately. It’s late at night and he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about what he would do if Castiel showed up again and demanded he kneel again, and the thoughts themselves are terrifying enough without the almost-certain knowledge that Castiel — now, being God — knows just what he’s thinking.
He’s not even surprised when Castiel shows up, when his lips curl up into a smile and he says, “I will grant your wish, for I am a merciful God.” Dean’s on his knees in a second, dragging Castiel’s pants down to his knees and burying his mouth in the crux of Castiel’s thighs, mind racing with fear and self-loathing and heart pounding with unbridled excitement.
“Don’t worry, Dean,” Castiel says, and there’s no trace of desire in his voice despite the fattening and thickening of his cock in Dean’s mouth, “I won’t tell anyone; I accept your worship,” and it’s wrong, so much of it is so wrong, and Dean’s somehow taken his own cock in hand and is jacking off desperately as he sucks Castiel off, lost and scared and turned on beyond belief.
(Sorry the sub! element got lost in this one a little)
The first time they made love the lights went out; Dean starts by turning them off now, not because he doesn’t want to see Cas but because he knows Cas will light the way.
A current crackles in the dark, and Dean sees Castiel’s face, hungry and severe, a moment before the pulse makes him jump; he groans and throws his head back, closing his eyes briefly. But the light show dancing at Castiel’s fingertips is too beautiful to shut his eyes to, and he’s quick to open them again — just in time to see a violet cord of electricity jump through the air, a sizzle of blue lightning, like a neon rainbow. Then Castiel’s fingers are on him, and everything’s alive with color and excitement; Dean’s gasping, clutching at Castiel with clawlike fingers, burying his head in Castiel’s shoulder and begging, “More, Cas, show me more.”
And with Castiel’s body on top of his and his fingers spread across Castiel’s shoulder blades, Dean thinks he feels the white-hot arc of lightning jump into the air from between them, making the brief shape of a pair of wings, just before Castiel shudders and comes deep and hot inside Dean.
Castiel’s blue eyes went wide with the first jolt, twitching as the current went through the muscles of his chest; the second bolt found his thighs and fleeting pain felt warm and welcome under Dean’s heated gaze.
“Are you sure this is how humans do these things?” Cas asked through gritted teeth as another zipping rush of sensation fluttered through his very core, deep inside of him to mingle with the glowing whiteness that resided there; he groaned as he looked up at Dean, pleading in his eyes even if he didn’t know what exactly he was asking for, only that he greatly enjoyed the sight of Dean’s erection, evidence that he was himself finding this pleasurable… interesting, the joy one experiences from seeing the enjoyment another receives from one’s attentions.
Dean shrugged, “Some humans do. You like?” Dean turned the knob again and Cas’ teeth gritted together with the nearly overwhelming sensations of pleasure and itching discomfort building in his groin; his contemplation of human interactions was gone in its wake.
He panted when Dean released the device, allowing his body to relax momentarily although he still felt on the verge of something momentous and excruciatingly pleasing, the echo of Dean’s attentions still throbbing inside him; he opened his clenched eyes and said, “I think we should try more, so I can truly decide.”
They’re too involved in each other to see him, Sam’s sure of it, and he should not stand here, in plain view should one of them open their eyes, but he can’t stop watching either. Everything he’s ever dreamed of seeing is on display in front of him — his brother’s body, naked and locked against Castiel’s — Castiel crying out in pleasure as his cock slides in — Dean’s teeth gritting as he arches up to meet Castiel’s thrusts. Sam knew it was happening between them, but he never knew just how envious he was until this moment, when it would take nothing more than a few steps to bring him to the bed and shock them both with the touch of his anxious hands.
But what if the shock became outrage, what if the outrage became rejection, disgust, dismay? So much safer for Sam to stand here, his fingers biting into his palm, watching and wanting as Dean and Castiel make desperate love and never know how much he’s seen or how much he desires.
Dean’s mouth hangs open, and he struggles to control his breathing and not make a sound as he watches through the crack in the doorway. He’s never seen Cas like this before, naked and spread out, never seen his jaw tipped toward the ceiling or his face flushed with pure sensation. And he’s certainly never seen Castiel’s hand moving the way it is on his cock, quick, hard strokes, fingers feathering quickly over the edge before he slides back down toward the root.
“One more time,” Dean whispers, as quietly as he can, “do it again, Cas, wrap your fingers around it and fuck your fist, that’s it.”
And for a minute, right after Castiel does exactly as he asks, Dean thinks he’s the one who’s moaned in response; but it has to have been Cas, because otherwise, Cas would acknowledge his presence… wouldn’t he?
The first time, Dean showed him the ropes, easing him down onto the bed and explaining each dirty detail as he opened Cas up and plowed into him with swift, masterful strokes.
Not this time — this time Castiel doesn’t explain, doesn’t speak, he just kisses Dean hotly, pushes him backward and throws him to the bed. Dean starts to speak and Castiel shushes him, the beginnings of a smile painting his lips as he straddles Dean.
He waits for Dean to protest, to say “I don’t want,” but Dean just moans wantonly, begs Castiel for more in breathy little shuddering phrases — “c’mon,” “c’mon, Cas, stop teasing,” “Jesus, just fucking fuck me already.”
Power and heat surge through Castiel’s body, and he feels more angelic than he’s felt in ages, with Dean’s body closing tight around him and Dean’s eyes wide with wonder and stunned pleasure at each thrust.
Castiel’s lips curl into an O, and he looks up at Dean with pleading eyes, shoulders shifting as he struggles to find a comfortable way to kneel with his hands bound behind his back. Dean chuckles, slides the head of his cock between those open lips, and murmurs, petting Castiel’s face, “You ready for me to fuck your face good?”
The noise Castiel makes then —an obscene “mmm” around Dean’s cock, punctuated with a nod that pushes Dean further into Castiel’s mouth — makes Dean grit his teeth with the effort to hold back his urges. Soon enough he’ll be fucking Castiel’s mouth in earnest, pulling his hair and whispering dirty things about how beautiful Cas is and how gorgeous he sounds, moaning around Dean’s cock. And then, when the pleasure stiffens his spine, he’ll pull out, draw his hand once over his spit-slicked cock, and leave a spattered mess of white over Castiel’s face for him to lick at, dirty and wanton and marked as Dean’s.
Put behind a cut at what could be perceived as dubcon.
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