Fic: This way is a very nice way, part 18a/? in Oz
This way is a very nice way
2800 words, SPN Dean/Castiel slash. Spoilers for all of season 4.
Thanks to kayote_pb_rl for agreeing to take part in my madness!
Continuing my Welcome to Oz series. Master post of links here.
“Hey, honey, I’m--” Dean stops when he sees the painfully empty kitchen table and Castiel, who is standing by the sliding glass doors leading onto the deck.
This way is a very nice way
Friday
“Hey, honey, I’m--” Dean stops when he sees the painfully empty kitchen table and Castiel, who is standing by the sliding glass doors leading onto the deck. “What, no dinner?”
Castiel gives him a brief glance before returning to staring outside. “I didn’t order it. I forgot.”
“Forgot?” Dean’s voice is level, but his stomach makes audible its extreme displeasure.
“Just order it yourself, Dean,” Castiel says without any sympathy. “You know where the phone and menus are.”
“What’s with the attitude?” Dean’s first taken aback, and then annoyed. “Someone piss in your O’s of Good Cheer this morning or something?”
“Or something,” Castiel says, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You wouldn’t understand. Go order dinner.”
“Will do, your highness,” Dean mutters as he places an order with Mr. Delicious Dumpling. When they ask whether he wants it delivered or prepared for pick up, he takes one look at Castiel (who is still standing in the exact same position by the door) and says, “I’ll come get it.”
When Dean gets back with the food, Castiel’s mood seems only to have grown fouler, and the dinner is a tense one. Dean is reminded of the first time they ate takeout from Mr. Delicious Dumpling after Castiel decided to take an impromptu dip in the lake.
Castiel finishes eating and makes no move to get up or clean the table. Dean ends up doing it himself, not eager for another infestation of ants to hit the kitchen again, and asks, “You gonna be like this all night? Because Double Indemnity is playing tonight and I was kind of hoping to enjoy it.”
“As a matter of fact, I am going to be like this all night,” Castiel says, insolent tone practically daring Dean to start a fight. “But of course I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you or interfere with your terribly important movie watching experience.”
“Okay, I’m so not dealing with this,” Dean says, standing up. “You wanna sulk or be pissy, go right ahead and do it. But I’m going out to see my movie and having a good time, damnit.”
“Of course you are. Because it’s all about whatever Dean wants.” Castiel rolls his eyes.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean demands.
“It means I’m tired of this, Dean!” Castiel finally explodes, causing Dean to take a step back. “I’m tired of being bound in this fragile body with its aches and pains. I’m tired of all the physical demands of being human-eating, sleeping, bathing, pissing--a constant and endless stream of needs that are never fully satisfied. And I’m tired of feeling lost and confused and like all my students are laughing at me because I have no idea what the hell I’m doing!”
“Is that what this is about?” Dean says, recovering quickly. “You had a rough day at the office so now you’re taking it out on me? Well guess what, Cas, you’re not the only one who has rough days. So get over it. It’s part of having a job.”
“I had a job before this,” Castiel glowers and stands up too. “I was a warrior of God. I enacted the will of Heaven and now I am reduced to writing in chalk on a blackboard for bored and distracted children. This is not a job, this is a mockery.”
“Well ha ha then,” Dean says. “I sell people pliers and baby food all day. You think I wouldn’t rather be out the road, making a difference? The joke’s on all of us here.”
Castiel shakes his head. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re damn right I don’t,” Dean snaps. “And I’m not gonna sit around and be your punching bag either.”
“All I want is for you to show some gratitude.” Castiel marches up to Dean, invading his personal space in way he hasn’t in months (not since Dean told him the fourth time that it makes people damn uncomfortable), eyes blazing. “I defied Heaven for you. I disobeyed and was dealt the wrath of an archangel, and then I became human for you. All so you could stop the Lucifer from rising, the Apocalypse from starting-all for nothing.”
“Yeah, well, what the fuck do you want me to say to that?” Dean snarls back. “What do you want me to do?”
“You infuriate me,” Castiel says, rubbing his face with his hand. “Even now, you cannot admit-”
“Right back at you, Cas. You don’t know even know how crazy you drive me sometimes, and you’re like this, this goddamn itch somewhere so far under my skin I can’t scratch it.” Dean wants to reach out and push Castiel in the chest, force him a few steps back, but he just balls his hands into fists at his sides instead. “It’s a goddamn distraction is what it is, and it makes me think about you all the goddamn time and I can’t-” Dean stops, because he hadn’t meant to say that.
Castiel blinks. “You-”
“That’s not. My point is--” But Dean can’t even remember what his point was, not with Castiel so close he’s practically on top of him, and with Castiel’s eyes so wide and blue and startled that Dean can’t seem to think clearly. “You-you’re--what the hell is wrong with you anyway? What the hell is going on with you?”
Castiel’s breaths are coming out heavy like he’s run a race, and Dean can feel it on his skin because he’s that close. His voice is barely a whisper when he says, “You’re in my head, Dean Winchester. Why are you always in my head?”
“I thought you were the creepy psychic. Staring down my soul and shit,” Dean says, trying to force a smirk but failing miserably. He’s lost track, somehow, of what they were arguing about.
“Not anymore,” Castiel replies, but he’s peering into Dean’s eyes like he can still read them. “Not now.”
“Good,” Dean says, licking his lips nervously. “Stay out.”
Castiel’s gaze falls from Dean’s eyes to his lips before Castiel turns his face away. “You should-you should go now. Or you’ll miss your movie.”
“Yeah.” Dean should. He should grab his jacket, walk right out of here, and hop into the car. He should make a pit stop at the Fork ‘n Kork, ask one of the pretty blonde waitresses when she gets off work, whether she wants to catch a movie. He should buy her a drink and some popcorn, smile at her real nice, and put his arm around her in the car. He should pretend to watch the movie for ten minutes, move in close, and lean down to kiss her soft pink lips that taste like cherry or bubblegum when she inevitably tilts her head up to look at him. He should.
“Don’t let me distract you,” Castiel says, still not looking at him. Dean takes in that stubbled jaw line, the perpetually messy hair, that voice like the bottom of a gravel pit, and he realizes it’s wrong--it’s all wrong with that pretty blonde waitress and it’s always going to be wrong.
“When you’re around, I don’t notice other people at all. Even when you’re not, I--” Dean says it so softly he can barely hear himself, but Castiel looks up. “Why is that?”
Castiel seems frozen by Dean’s words, rendered mute, and that’s all Dean needs before he closes the remaining inch between them and kisses Castiel. He’s five seconds into it before his brain catches up to what his body just did, lips pressed against Castiel’s closed lips, eyes even wider and more disturbingly blue. Dean’s breath freezes up in his chest and he goes to pull away, thinking, holy shit, what the fuck-when Castiel’s arms snake around his waist, tugging him in again. After a moment, Castiel’s eyes fall closed, his lips part, and he moans against Dean’s mouth.
Dean lets his eyes close too, focuses on the taste of Castiel’s mouth (Chinese food with an overlay of something minty-a mix that should be jarring but is actually not bad) and the solid firmness of his chest against Dean. It’s been a long time since Dean last kissed a guy-a long time since he thought they were worth the extra hassle since women are plentiful-but he’s reminded of how hot is to be have the freedom to be more forceful, have someone you can be a little rough with and not hurt.
As for Castiel, it’s clear that this is his first time to the ballgame, kissing an activity he understands pretty much only in principle. After the initial passive moment of surprise, though, Castiel begins curiously exploring on his own, mimicking Dean’s tongue’s movements. It’s also been a long time since Dean’s kissed someone this inexperienced, but instead of being annoyed, he finds he doesn’t care. Because it’s Cas: Cas who is kissing him back, Cas who is holding him tight, Cas who is so hard against his leg it’s impossible to ignore.
When Dean and Castiel finally break apart, they’re both out of breath. Castiel’s mouth glistens with saliva and his hair is even more of a wreck than usual. Dean swipes the back of his hand across his mouth and notes the way Castiel tracks the movement, eyes dark with arousal.
Dean’s hard too, he notices vaguely. Very hard. And all he wants right now is to grab Castiel again, rip all his clothes off, and run his greedy hands over the miles of pale, tight flesh he knows are under there. “I don’t know how this happened,” Dean says, because Castiel seems so shell-shocked Dean feels the need to explain. “I don’t know how you did this, got under my skin like this.”
“Dean,” Castiel says slowly, voice even lower somehow than his usual register. “You think about me?”
“You’re all I ever think about,” Dean says honestly. How did this happen, he wonders. How did he let someone dig their way in so deep? And is this why Dean’s spent the whole past month epically hard all the damn time? Is this why all his recent fantasies in the shower have changed from the usual nubile young things with big tits and tiny waists to men with dark hair and hard bodies? Is this something that Dean should have known, should have seen coming?
“Dean,” Castiel repeats before he falls forward, drags Dean close again, mouth open and ready and willing.
“Cas,” Dean says, and it’s better this second round, Castiel more active and adventurous with his hands and his tongue. “We should-” Dean loses his words, but it works out okay because he somehow maneuvers them through the foyer into the living room. They end up on the couch, sitting and groping and making out like horny teenagers.
Dean’s so hard he’s almost aching from it when Castiel pulls away from him, pushes Dean back onto the couch, and crawls on top to straddle Dean’s thighs. Dean struggles a bit to get out from under him, but Castiel pins him down by the shoulders and yeah, he’d forgotten how much he’d enjoyed this with guys as well (not that he’d ever admit it to anyone). Dean always lets women take charge on top if they want to, but knowing a guy can actually make Dean stay down if he wants to is hot in a whole different way.
“You’re kinda bossy for a first timer to the rodeo,” Dean comments, and Castiel gives him a strange look before leaning down to press their bodies flush together.
“Dean,” Castiel breathes against Dean’s neck. Even through the layers of fabric, Dean can feel where Castiel's hot against his own cock, the pressure a delicious but horrible tease. “This isn’t how I imagined it would be.”
“You been fantasizing about me?” Dean says dryly, not serious, but he feels Castiel tense up against him and knows he accidentally hit on something. Dean pulls back so he can look at Castiel’s face, but Castiel turns away. Dean runs a hand down Castiel’s back instead and says, “Welcome to the human race, Cas. If you’re fantasizing about my hot bod, it means you’ve got a pulse.”
Castiel kisses the side of Dean’s neck, his cheek, his chin, and then finally his lips before saying, “This is better than what I imagined.”
The image of Castiel in bed, jerking himself off and coming with Dean’s name on his lips flashes across Dean’s mind and he nearly moans out loud at it. “We need to get naked. Now,” Dean says, and he helps Castiel shimmy out of his shirt first, and then gets to work unbuttoning Castiel’s khakis. Castiel lifts his hips up helpfully so Dean can drag his pants and boxers down, but he doesn’t get up to take them off fully, choosing instead to press down on Dean again, dick hard and heavy against Dean’s jeans.
“Fuck,” Dean mutters, fingers effectively fumbling to a halt on his fly at the sight of Castiel almost naked and practically writhing on top of him. “You need to get up.”
Castiel frowns slightly, but eventually obliges by sliding off the couch and taking off the last remains of his clothing while Dean does the same. Once they’re both fully freed from the shackles of fabric, Castiel pushes Dean back onto the couch again and Dean doesn’t even try to resist this time. He does, however, pull Castiel in by the back of the neck for a bruising kiss, and moans in contentment at the feel of the full body contact.
Dean wriggles his hips until his dick lines up against Castiel’s, and gives a purposeful thrust up, eliciting a deep moan from Castiel for the trouble. Dean slides his hand down Castiel’s lower back and continues thrusting, wonderful hot friction everywhere his dick presses against Castiel. Castiel kisses Dean back mindlessly, eventually moving from his mouth to his jaw to the underside of his neck.
“Cas,” Dean rasps, because he can hardly form words this is so hot. He trails one hand down to Castiel’s ass (which is tight and perfect and inspires fantastic ideas about future endeavors), and then slides his right hand in between the two of them to wrap around both their cocks.
“Dean,” Castiel says helplessly against Dean’s neck. Dean runs a curious thumb over the head of Castiel’s dick, feels the shape of it, presses lightly against the slit, and then like that, Castiel’s coming, whole body tensing while he empties himself all over Dean’s hand and stomach.
Castiel collapses gracelessly on top of Dean, seemingly indifferent to the sticky mess as well as Dean’s continuing erection. Castiel kisses Dean on the cheek and settles down more comfortably on top of him, prompting Dean to say, “A little help here?” When Castiel just nuzzles Dean’s neck, Dean turns his head in time to see Castiel’s eyes fluttering shut. “Oh, don’t you dare fall asleep on me, Cas. Not while I’m-”
Castiel snuffles against Dean’s neck in what might be annoyance before reaching down blindly with his right hand until he finds Dean’s dick. The angle’s weird and Castiel’s pulls are a little slower and looser than what Dean usually likes, but it’s still strangely hot because it’s Cas, and the orgasm almost catches him by surprise. Castiel doesn’t stop, either, gently pumping until Dean’s done before letting go.
Castiel brings his come-slick hand up to his face and sniffs at it curiously with heavy lidded eyes. After a second, his tongue flicks out and licks at it, which is so sexy that even though Dean hasn’t got the refractory period of a teenager anymore, his dick still gives a half hearted twitch.
After Castiel’s done cleaning his hand with methodical licks, he settles down against Dean’s shoulder again, seemingly prepared to go to sleep. They’re still wrapped up in a tangle of limbs, Castiel’s left arm flung over Dean’s waist and his legs threaded through Dean’s. Dean knows it’s a bad idea, this cuddling and sleeping on a couch that’s too short and small for the both of them, but his eyelids are shutting in spite of his best efforts and he has to admit that Castiel’s warm weight on top of him is not entirely unpleasant.
Dean tries to tell Castiel to get off him so they can go sleep in the bed, but all that comes out in a jumbled sound, and Dean finds himself drifting off to sleep instead.
Onto the next part of this chapter: It's pleasant down that way, too
2800 words, SPN Dean/Castiel slash. Spoilers for all of season 4.
Thanks to kayote_pb_rl for agreeing to take part in my madness!
Continuing my Welcome to Oz series. Master post of links here.
“Hey, honey, I’m--” Dean stops when he sees the painfully empty kitchen table and Castiel, who is standing by the sliding glass doors leading onto the deck.
This way is a very nice way
Friday
“Hey, honey, I’m--” Dean stops when he sees the painfully empty kitchen table and Castiel, who is standing by the sliding glass doors leading onto the deck. “What, no dinner?”
Castiel gives him a brief glance before returning to staring outside. “I didn’t order it. I forgot.”
“Forgot?” Dean’s voice is level, but his stomach makes audible its extreme displeasure.
“Just order it yourself, Dean,” Castiel says without any sympathy. “You know where the phone and menus are.”
“What’s with the attitude?” Dean’s first taken aback, and then annoyed. “Someone piss in your O’s of Good Cheer this morning or something?”
“Or something,” Castiel says, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You wouldn’t understand. Go order dinner.”
“Will do, your highness,” Dean mutters as he places an order with Mr. Delicious Dumpling. When they ask whether he wants it delivered or prepared for pick up, he takes one look at Castiel (who is still standing in the exact same position by the door) and says, “I’ll come get it.”
When Dean gets back with the food, Castiel’s mood seems only to have grown fouler, and the dinner is a tense one. Dean is reminded of the first time they ate takeout from Mr. Delicious Dumpling after Castiel decided to take an impromptu dip in the lake.
Castiel finishes eating and makes no move to get up or clean the table. Dean ends up doing it himself, not eager for another infestation of ants to hit the kitchen again, and asks, “You gonna be like this all night? Because Double Indemnity is playing tonight and I was kind of hoping to enjoy it.”
“As a matter of fact, I am going to be like this all night,” Castiel says, insolent tone practically daring Dean to start a fight. “But of course I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you or interfere with your terribly important movie watching experience.”
“Okay, I’m so not dealing with this,” Dean says, standing up. “You wanna sulk or be pissy, go right ahead and do it. But I’m going out to see my movie and having a good time, damnit.”
“Of course you are. Because it’s all about whatever Dean wants.” Castiel rolls his eyes.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean demands.
“It means I’m tired of this, Dean!” Castiel finally explodes, causing Dean to take a step back. “I’m tired of being bound in this fragile body with its aches and pains. I’m tired of all the physical demands of being human-eating, sleeping, bathing, pissing--a constant and endless stream of needs that are never fully satisfied. And I’m tired of feeling lost and confused and like all my students are laughing at me because I have no idea what the hell I’m doing!”
“Is that what this is about?” Dean says, recovering quickly. “You had a rough day at the office so now you’re taking it out on me? Well guess what, Cas, you’re not the only one who has rough days. So get over it. It’s part of having a job.”
“I had a job before this,” Castiel glowers and stands up too. “I was a warrior of God. I enacted the will of Heaven and now I am reduced to writing in chalk on a blackboard for bored and distracted children. This is not a job, this is a mockery.”
“Well ha ha then,” Dean says. “I sell people pliers and baby food all day. You think I wouldn’t rather be out the road, making a difference? The joke’s on all of us here.”
Castiel shakes his head. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re damn right I don’t,” Dean snaps. “And I’m not gonna sit around and be your punching bag either.”
“All I want is for you to show some gratitude.” Castiel marches up to Dean, invading his personal space in way he hasn’t in months (not since Dean told him the fourth time that it makes people damn uncomfortable), eyes blazing. “I defied Heaven for you. I disobeyed and was dealt the wrath of an archangel, and then I became human for you. All so you could stop the Lucifer from rising, the Apocalypse from starting-all for nothing.”
“Yeah, well, what the fuck do you want me to say to that?” Dean snarls back. “What do you want me to do?”
“You infuriate me,” Castiel says, rubbing his face with his hand. “Even now, you cannot admit-”
“Right back at you, Cas. You don’t know even know how crazy you drive me sometimes, and you’re like this, this goddamn itch somewhere so far under my skin I can’t scratch it.” Dean wants to reach out and push Castiel in the chest, force him a few steps back, but he just balls his hands into fists at his sides instead. “It’s a goddamn distraction is what it is, and it makes me think about you all the goddamn time and I can’t-” Dean stops, because he hadn’t meant to say that.
Castiel blinks. “You-”
“That’s not. My point is--” But Dean can’t even remember what his point was, not with Castiel so close he’s practically on top of him, and with Castiel’s eyes so wide and blue and startled that Dean can’t seem to think clearly. “You-you’re--what the hell is wrong with you anyway? What the hell is going on with you?”
Castiel’s breaths are coming out heavy like he’s run a race, and Dean can feel it on his skin because he’s that close. His voice is barely a whisper when he says, “You’re in my head, Dean Winchester. Why are you always in my head?”
“I thought you were the creepy psychic. Staring down my soul and shit,” Dean says, trying to force a smirk but failing miserably. He’s lost track, somehow, of what they were arguing about.
“Not anymore,” Castiel replies, but he’s peering into Dean’s eyes like he can still read them. “Not now.”
“Good,” Dean says, licking his lips nervously. “Stay out.”
Castiel’s gaze falls from Dean’s eyes to his lips before Castiel turns his face away. “You should-you should go now. Or you’ll miss your movie.”
“Yeah.” Dean should. He should grab his jacket, walk right out of here, and hop into the car. He should make a pit stop at the Fork ‘n Kork, ask one of the pretty blonde waitresses when she gets off work, whether she wants to catch a movie. He should buy her a drink and some popcorn, smile at her real nice, and put his arm around her in the car. He should pretend to watch the movie for ten minutes, move in close, and lean down to kiss her soft pink lips that taste like cherry or bubblegum when she inevitably tilts her head up to look at him. He should.
“Don’t let me distract you,” Castiel says, still not looking at him. Dean takes in that stubbled jaw line, the perpetually messy hair, that voice like the bottom of a gravel pit, and he realizes it’s wrong--it’s all wrong with that pretty blonde waitress and it’s always going to be wrong.
“When you’re around, I don’t notice other people at all. Even when you’re not, I--” Dean says it so softly he can barely hear himself, but Castiel looks up. “Why is that?”
Castiel seems frozen by Dean’s words, rendered mute, and that’s all Dean needs before he closes the remaining inch between them and kisses Castiel. He’s five seconds into it before his brain catches up to what his body just did, lips pressed against Castiel’s closed lips, eyes even wider and more disturbingly blue. Dean’s breath freezes up in his chest and he goes to pull away, thinking, holy shit, what the fuck-when Castiel’s arms snake around his waist, tugging him in again. After a moment, Castiel’s eyes fall closed, his lips part, and he moans against Dean’s mouth.
Dean lets his eyes close too, focuses on the taste of Castiel’s mouth (Chinese food with an overlay of something minty-a mix that should be jarring but is actually not bad) and the solid firmness of his chest against Dean. It’s been a long time since Dean last kissed a guy-a long time since he thought they were worth the extra hassle since women are plentiful-but he’s reminded of how hot is to be have the freedom to be more forceful, have someone you can be a little rough with and not hurt.
As for Castiel, it’s clear that this is his first time to the ballgame, kissing an activity he understands pretty much only in principle. After the initial passive moment of surprise, though, Castiel begins curiously exploring on his own, mimicking Dean’s tongue’s movements. It’s also been a long time since Dean’s kissed someone this inexperienced, but instead of being annoyed, he finds he doesn’t care. Because it’s Cas: Cas who is kissing him back, Cas who is holding him tight, Cas who is so hard against his leg it’s impossible to ignore.
When Dean and Castiel finally break apart, they’re both out of breath. Castiel’s mouth glistens with saliva and his hair is even more of a wreck than usual. Dean swipes the back of his hand across his mouth and notes the way Castiel tracks the movement, eyes dark with arousal.
Dean’s hard too, he notices vaguely. Very hard. And all he wants right now is to grab Castiel again, rip all his clothes off, and run his greedy hands over the miles of pale, tight flesh he knows are under there. “I don’t know how this happened,” Dean says, because Castiel seems so shell-shocked Dean feels the need to explain. “I don’t know how you did this, got under my skin like this.”
“Dean,” Castiel says slowly, voice even lower somehow than his usual register. “You think about me?”
“You’re all I ever think about,” Dean says honestly. How did this happen, he wonders. How did he let someone dig their way in so deep? And is this why Dean’s spent the whole past month epically hard all the damn time? Is this why all his recent fantasies in the shower have changed from the usual nubile young things with big tits and tiny waists to men with dark hair and hard bodies? Is this something that Dean should have known, should have seen coming?
“Dean,” Castiel repeats before he falls forward, drags Dean close again, mouth open and ready and willing.
“Cas,” Dean says, and it’s better this second round, Castiel more active and adventurous with his hands and his tongue. “We should-” Dean loses his words, but it works out okay because he somehow maneuvers them through the foyer into the living room. They end up on the couch, sitting and groping and making out like horny teenagers.
Dean’s so hard he’s almost aching from it when Castiel pulls away from him, pushes Dean back onto the couch, and crawls on top to straddle Dean’s thighs. Dean struggles a bit to get out from under him, but Castiel pins him down by the shoulders and yeah, he’d forgotten how much he’d enjoyed this with guys as well (not that he’d ever admit it to anyone). Dean always lets women take charge on top if they want to, but knowing a guy can actually make Dean stay down if he wants to is hot in a whole different way.
“You’re kinda bossy for a first timer to the rodeo,” Dean comments, and Castiel gives him a strange look before leaning down to press their bodies flush together.
“Dean,” Castiel breathes against Dean’s neck. Even through the layers of fabric, Dean can feel where Castiel's hot against his own cock, the pressure a delicious but horrible tease. “This isn’t how I imagined it would be.”
“You been fantasizing about me?” Dean says dryly, not serious, but he feels Castiel tense up against him and knows he accidentally hit on something. Dean pulls back so he can look at Castiel’s face, but Castiel turns away. Dean runs a hand down Castiel’s back instead and says, “Welcome to the human race, Cas. If you’re fantasizing about my hot bod, it means you’ve got a pulse.”
Castiel kisses the side of Dean’s neck, his cheek, his chin, and then finally his lips before saying, “This is better than what I imagined.”
The image of Castiel in bed, jerking himself off and coming with Dean’s name on his lips flashes across Dean’s mind and he nearly moans out loud at it. “We need to get naked. Now,” Dean says, and he helps Castiel shimmy out of his shirt first, and then gets to work unbuttoning Castiel’s khakis. Castiel lifts his hips up helpfully so Dean can drag his pants and boxers down, but he doesn’t get up to take them off fully, choosing instead to press down on Dean again, dick hard and heavy against Dean’s jeans.
“Fuck,” Dean mutters, fingers effectively fumbling to a halt on his fly at the sight of Castiel almost naked and practically writhing on top of him. “You need to get up.”
Castiel frowns slightly, but eventually obliges by sliding off the couch and taking off the last remains of his clothing while Dean does the same. Once they’re both fully freed from the shackles of fabric, Castiel pushes Dean back onto the couch again and Dean doesn’t even try to resist this time. He does, however, pull Castiel in by the back of the neck for a bruising kiss, and moans in contentment at the feel of the full body contact.
Dean wriggles his hips until his dick lines up against Castiel’s, and gives a purposeful thrust up, eliciting a deep moan from Castiel for the trouble. Dean slides his hand down Castiel’s lower back and continues thrusting, wonderful hot friction everywhere his dick presses against Castiel. Castiel kisses Dean back mindlessly, eventually moving from his mouth to his jaw to the underside of his neck.
“Cas,” Dean rasps, because he can hardly form words this is so hot. He trails one hand down to Castiel’s ass (which is tight and perfect and inspires fantastic ideas about future endeavors), and then slides his right hand in between the two of them to wrap around both their cocks.
“Dean,” Castiel says helplessly against Dean’s neck. Dean runs a curious thumb over the head of Castiel’s dick, feels the shape of it, presses lightly against the slit, and then like that, Castiel’s coming, whole body tensing while he empties himself all over Dean’s hand and stomach.
Castiel collapses gracelessly on top of Dean, seemingly indifferent to the sticky mess as well as Dean’s continuing erection. Castiel kisses Dean on the cheek and settles down more comfortably on top of him, prompting Dean to say, “A little help here?” When Castiel just nuzzles Dean’s neck, Dean turns his head in time to see Castiel’s eyes fluttering shut. “Oh, don’t you dare fall asleep on me, Cas. Not while I’m-”
Castiel snuffles against Dean’s neck in what might be annoyance before reaching down blindly with his right hand until he finds Dean’s dick. The angle’s weird and Castiel’s pulls are a little slower and looser than what Dean usually likes, but it’s still strangely hot because it’s Cas, and the orgasm almost catches him by surprise. Castiel doesn’t stop, either, gently pumping until Dean’s done before letting go.
Castiel brings his come-slick hand up to his face and sniffs at it curiously with heavy lidded eyes. After a second, his tongue flicks out and licks at it, which is so sexy that even though Dean hasn’t got the refractory period of a teenager anymore, his dick still gives a half hearted twitch.
After Castiel’s done cleaning his hand with methodical licks, he settles down against Dean’s shoulder again, seemingly prepared to go to sleep. They’re still wrapped up in a tangle of limbs, Castiel’s left arm flung over Dean’s waist and his legs threaded through Dean’s. Dean knows it’s a bad idea, this cuddling and sleeping on a couch that’s too short and small for the both of them, but his eyelids are shutting in spite of his best efforts and he has to admit that Castiel’s warm weight on top of him is not entirely unpleasant.
Dean tries to tell Castiel to get off him so they can go sleep in the bed, but all that comes out in a jumbled sound, and Dean finds himself drifting off to sleep instead.
Onto the next part of this chapter: It's pleasant down that way, too