[SPN] Nylon
Title: Nylon
Genre: Romance, PWP
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Word Count: 6,900
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Slight D/S vibes, filthy language of the blasphemous kind and Cas in pantyhose. Un-beta'd.
Summary: Dean had a love/hate relationship with the runs along Castiel's thighs.
Notes: Could be read as a sequel to this fic, but could definitely be read as a standalone piece.
It didn’t surprise Dean just how thin Castiel was beneath the dozens of layers hanging loosely on his shoulders. Always the same familiar and generic tones of black and tan with a hint of white and blue that blurred in and out of his line of vision as months passed by. On a subconscious level he tended to count the times he saw a person, be it in a day, a week, a month or even years depending on his relationship with them. With Cas it was different. He had tried to keep count once, but after the millionth time the angel had simply vanished he gave up entirely. Castiel was ever a blur to him. He wasn’t solid like Sam, or even like Bobby; Cas was but mist to him. Interesting to look at, curious to walk through but nothing to grab onto.
Lately Dean found himself staring without a single relevant thought in his head. His eyes would wander to the scruffy neck, slid down over white cotton and blue polyester until finally drifting to those broad shoulders. It was a deceptive appearance. Dean knew more than anyone that a single flick of a long finger was enough to turn the toughest of dickbags to dust. Yet, even as Sam kicked him beneath the table, leveling up his bitchface to radioactive levels, all Dean would think about was if the car needed an oil change. That somehow led him to wonder if his favorite sleeping shirt could go another week without washing and if he had forgotten his deodorant over at that last motel in Iowa. Staring at Castiel always came with irrelevant and mundane thoughts.
“Dean, you’re gawking.” Sam bit out tersely over his penne and alfredo pasta. It lacked any real zest and the sauce was cold, but it was better than another Triple Baconator. If nothing supernatural would be able to drive Dean into the ground, a few clogged arteries could do the job. “It’s creepy.”
“Your face is creepy.” He countered as he plucked up a cheesy fry and swirled it around the leftover hot sauce that had dripped from his taco onto his plate. He turned his eyes back to Cas who was now openly staring back, his cheeks surprisingly flushed over the usual troubled expression.
When staring at Cas, Dean thought of nonsensical stuff. Now wasn’t one of those times.
Beneath the table, kind enough to spare Sam the mental trauma, Dean was caressing his leg against Cas’ in a slow circular motion. Just a minute movement; would have gone complete unnoticed if not for the fact that Cas was in on their shared little secret. Jeans chaffed against dress slacks that slid surprisingly easy under the careful caress. At one point Dean had hooked his leg around Castiel’s and tugged it forward, making the angel jerk in surprise and go stiff when Sam gave him a funny look.
Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew his brother was up to something, but in the name of all that was Holy he really did not want to know. Finding not so mysterious stains and blotches of sweat on the neighboring bed was one thing, but this was way above his pay grade. He knew the nearly predatory glint in Dean’s eyes when he began to circle in on a potential mate, and there it was, clear as day. Also, the way he kept licking his lips and occasionally biting the bottom one was a dead giveaway. He’d probably have to get a separate room that evening. At times he felt inclined to feel sorry for Castiel and the ways Dean was defiling him, but then he remembered walking in on them six weeks ago. Sure he had been kind enough to hang his tie on the doorknob, but honestly, who would have pieced two and two together when the people in question were Cas and Dean: an angel of the Lord and his ‘no boobs, no care’ brother? The image of a wrecked Cas and a half naked Dean was enough to make him push his pasta away.
“Tomorrow at noon we pick up the trail again, their nest shouldn’t be that far off.” Dean said with finality to that evening’s conversation. They were looking for a group of vampires that had taken to snacking on a local community college. So far they had no idea where their nest was at, even after two days of nonstop searching.
“Why wait until noon?” It was the first thing Castiel had said in a while, having been too engrossed in his chicken sandwich and the leg rubbing against his to really pay any attention at the brothers’ constant bickering.
“Sun’s nice and high. Won’t do much to kill them but it’ll hurt like hell until their heads roll.” Sam clarified around the straw in his mouth. He was starting to get used to explaining how hunting worked now that Cas stuck around longer than he had a few months prior to the apocalypse. The guy really came in handy whenever they hit a particularly tough spot.
Castiel nodded, taking Sam’s word for it.
“That settles it then.” Reaching for a napkin, Dean wipes his fingers clean. “What are your plans for tonight?” The question was aimed at Sam, but the face the younger Winchester pulled made him think it was misinterpreted. Dean had the decency to look surprised.
“Uh, I’m just going to… do something. Probably stake out at the campus and see if anything decides to drop by.” Sam could feel his cheeks turn a little green. In his defense, the question had sounded too innocent coming from Dean’s mouth, which meant that something was definitely up. A something he really didn’t want to think about or else his pasta would threaten to come right back up. “You should get some rest.” The glint in Dean’s eye told him he was right. “So, uh, yeah, I’ll catch up to you guys in the morning.”
“Here.” Dean took the keys from his pocket and threw them at him. “Long drive up there.”
“What about you?”
“We’ll walk.” Neither of them noticed how Castiel’s shoulders sagged at that. “Motel’s not that far and the night is young. The breeze is cool, the starts are twinkling…”
“Yeah, okay Dean, I get it.” Sam squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying hard to not think about what his brother was suggesting. “Whatever.”
“Prude!” Dean called as Sam walked out the door. He eased back into his booth with a smirk, offering a friendly nod at the lady sitting across from them who answered with a sour look. Seemed like Sam wasn’t the only prude in the joint. His smile shifted, this time reaching his eyes with a little more heat as he turned to look at Cas. “Just you and me.”
“We aren’t alone.” The angel so helpfully pointed out, looking over his shoulder to signal at a family sitting across the restaurant.
“That’s not what I meant, Cas.” The tip of his boot nudged up the hem of Castiel’s slacks, the exposed area making the worn leather of the boots slide freely. “How you holding up? How’s it feel?” He lowered his voice just enough to be out of reach of the nearest patron, but loud enough for anybody walking by to hear him. Dean watched Castiel’s neck, the Adam’s apple bobbing when the angel threw a cautious look around them.
“It’s uncomfortable.” When Dean raised his eyebrows, he clarified. “The heat is making it cling to my genitals.” This he said leaning over the table conspiratorially. To prove the point, Castiel shifted in his seat, pulling his leg away from Dean’s insistent rubbing. “It’s very unpleasant.”
Dean look wounded, but Cas was one unshakeable asshole. “Fine. Go ahead and mojo us back to the room.” Part of Dean wanted Cas to look at least a tiny bit guilty, but when he quickly rose to his feet and began walking outside, he only groaned. Another plan thwarted. “Hey, wait up. I think we’re clear for takeoff.”
“I believe you said we were walking?”
“Well, you said they bothered you. No sense making it worse by walking.”
“Dean, I’ve been exposed to methods of torture far worse than you could imagine. I’m hardly fazed by women’s underwear.” True enough, there was nothing strange in Castiel’s stride as he made his way along the side of the empty road, hands in his coat pockets. He looked like an ordinary Joe heading home after a day’s work at the office and nothing like a celestial soldier pummeling to earth amidst the apocalypse while wearing women’s underwear in order to appease the Righteous Man’s fetishes. In fact, Dean was surprised by the humor in his tone.
“It’s enough?” Dean’s voice was hopeful, a little shaky as he jogged in order to catch up with him and mimicked the action of stuffing his hands away. “Think you’d be able to go tonight?”
There was a moment of quiet while Castiel debated the answer to those questions. Angels were nothing like humans, mentally and biologically speaking. They had no gender, no emotions, could feel no form of physical pain and lacked every human’s basic need for food, bathroom breaks, sleep and sex. They were but walking drones inhabiting a human host for celestial purposes. Castiel, however, being cut off from Heaven for disobedience was an entirely different story. For the last year or so he had begun to display the vast amount of human emotions bestowed upon him; months ago he gave into a more carnal need that had been spurred on by Dean himself. The experience had opened a brand new box of curiosities the two of them were struggling to assemble.
Castiel’s libido was erratic. There was no porn that could excite him, no teasing, no anything that could get him going in their limited time frame between hunts. It would take days of careful plotting, made even more difficult by Sam’s denseness, to even get him in the right mood. Dean, sharing Castiel’s curious nature, wanted to know just what he needed to do to make him tick. It was frustrating for him, but he was starting to get the hang of it.
Touch seemed to have the best results, so Dean touched him. While driving, Dean would press his fingers to Cas’ strangely delicate wrists. While they sat at a table, Dean would pull him out and begin pumping him while they went through local reports. When Sam wasn’t looking, Dean would slip his hand inside the coat and pinch a nipple. It was a slow progression, but once Castiel was up and at ‘em, it was Dean’s turn to beg for some respite. It took the same amount of time to properly satisfy the angel. Not that Dean was complaining about the glorious sex, but his body was not meant to orgasm four times in one night.
It had been a while since Castiel had taken a proper load off due to their busy schedule, so Dean decided to push the envelope. Constant stimulation for the angel and a side dish for him. Too many times did Castiel just let him use his body for his own pleasure without taking anything in return, understanding that they had no time for a mutual orgasm but insisting that satisfying Dean was more than he could possibly ask for. Dean couldn’t help but feel dirty about it. It wasn’t right for him to get his rocks off on Cas when the angel wasn’t getting anything in turn, which is what led him to that idea.
Dean insisted that the smooth material would feel good against his skin and in truth it wasn’t the feeling of the garments that aroused him in the end. The knowledge that Dean was taking pleasure in this; that Dean concerned himself with trying to offer Castiel an equal amount of pleasure, that this was something for the two of them, was enough for him. This was theirs. Their pleasure, and nothing could turn on Cas more than that.
“Yes, I think I’d be able to go tonight.” The words were foreign on his tongue. They sounded odd but the smile Dean gave him was worth it.
He wanted to blame it on the cold, and so he did; Dean pressed his shoulder to Cas’ as they walked down the road to their motel. Now they needed to work on focusing Castiel’s orgasm-induced energy bomb to shortening out the city instead of the entire state.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
Removing his tie and hanging it on the doorknob was one Castiel’s favorite parts when it came to foreplay. It was such a minute gesture that mostly made Dean laugh, and maybe that was why he enjoyed it so much. He stood there as Dean shut the door behind him, sliding all three bolts home and the little chain as well. Next were the curtains.
Dean didn’t notice when Castiel vanished for a brief moment before returning with a bottle of lube until he saw him standing there, little blue egg-shaped bottle in hand. He gave the angel a knowing smirk, slipping his hands into his jean’s pockets and winked. “I still had some from last time. You didn’t have to go through the trouble.” But Dean knew it was more than just the need of the substance. It was one hell of a strange world when an angel had a favorite brand of lubricant. Apparently it ‘warmed to the touch’. Dean sure as hell didn’t complain about it; at least it didn’t taste like strawberries.
Putting down the bottle on the bed, Castiel shrugged off his coat. “I prefer this one.” It was all he offered as an explanation and luckily Dean didn’t press on.
Castiel was thin; those narrow shoulders went perfectly with narrow hips and the suit jacket framed his figure nicely. He was smaller than Dean, not by much, but enough to turn him on. It was easy to manhandle him, flip him over and pull him into whatever position Dean wanted him in, but he didn’t. Cas could squish him with a thought. There were times though, in which Dean thought it would be okay, because there were still times in which Castiel asked for orders. It made Dean sick to his stomach, the knowledge that he could get off on that.
The hands that landed on Castiel’s hips ran up, the white fabric of the button down rolling with it and falling out of his trousers with ease. Castiel sighed when Dean’s chest melded against his back; the sensation of dull heat in the coldness of the room making his arousal spike. Dean angled his hips, rhythmically pressing against Cas’ ass before easing the pressure. The angel met everything push with an arch of his back, his head tipped against Dean’s shoulders and mouth open to release short breathless pants.
When Dean decided he was achingly hard, he kicked it up a notch. Undoing the button of Cas’ pants, the angel moaned, the sound of it deliciously obscene against Dean’s ear. “Let’s see what we have here.” Both of Dean’s hands pressed against the line where hip met thigh and strained the fabric, marking out the shape of Castiel’s cock. “Look at that. Fuck, you’re so ready for me.” His voice dropped to a husky purr, the tip of his tongue running along the curve of Cas’ ear. The pants slid unnaturally when he let off the pressure, and being reminded of what lied underneath Castiel’s pants sent blood rushing down south. It was like a punch of arousal right to his dick.
Under different circumstances the sight of Cas shimming his hips would have been absurd, not to mention really fucking funny, but as his intentions were to slide off his pants with as little effort as possible, it had the opposite effect. Dean groaned against his neck when the dress slacks pooled around his feet, palms immediately heading down to touch Cas’ thighs. Castiel pulled away, turning around to face Dean as he stood by the bed, letting the hunter give him a good once over. “Does this please you?”
Dean was sure he had the willpower of a saint.
Castiel’s shirt was too long, his jacket as well and Dean noted that it was too much clothes to be wearing, but it was just the right level of teasing. His eyes drank up every inch of Cas’ legs, from his toes, all the way up his shins and calves, knees and finally thighs that disappeared beneath white fabric. The nylon that stuck to them, pale and sheer, blending nicely with Castiel’s skin color had them both panting for completely different yet mutual reasons. “Fuck. Let me see you, Cas.” Obediently, Castiel raised his shirt a few inches. “Yeah, you can fucking bet on it.”
The fabric molded seamlessly along his hips, hugging his balls and encasing his cock erotically; a dark spot was forming close to the tip. It was obscene, having an angel simply stand there, holding up his shirt like a pinup girl modeling pantyhose. But fuck if it didn’t turn them both on.
“It’s a curious sensation, walking with these alone.” Forgetting himself to his curiosity Castiel touched along the top of his thighs, the fabric felt rough against his soft hands. “My thighs slip enough to be uncomfortable.”
Dean had enough control of his thoughts to chuckle, more at the dewy-eyed look Castiel was giving him than the actual words. The mirth slipped away when the angel’s hand slipped from thigh to crotch, hesitantly palming himself through the fabric and moaning at the sharp sensation. “Good thing we don’t have to do much walking now.” He looked pointedly towards the bed but was mildly surprised when Castiel shook his head. “What? You plan on walking for charity or something?”
With a loud sigh, Castiel walked over to the head of the bed, giving Dean a lovely show of a deliciously round ass. He creased his eyebrows when the angel grabbed all four pillows and threw them on the floor. “I find the sound of a creaking bed grating.”
Personally, Dean liked to make the bed creak and the headboard slam against the wall, but floor sex was all kinds of kinky and he wasn’t about to deny his partner that. It was good to see Cas taking some sort of initiative when it came to their sex life. As comforting as it was for the guy to do as he was suggested without question, there was something insanely hot when he got bossy. Castiel delivered when he grabbed Dean by his shirt and pulled him in for a soft kiss, lightly nibbling at the corner of his lip before pulling away.
Dean watched silently as Castiel gracefully dropped himself to the floor, resting his head on a pillow before stretching out like a cat in order to get comfortable. He was all lean muscle and bone, coiled up power and quivering arousal as strands of dark hair fell over too bright eyes. A tongue swiped across chapped lips as he looked up at Dean invitingly, slowly opening his legs in offering. Dean had to curse, because the asshole had no fucking right to be so damn beautiful.
“Come on, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was warm, laced with lust and adoration so deep Dean found it hard to swallow. Falling to his knees, he latched his hands beneath Cas’ ribs and trailed them up, taking the shirt and jacket with him as he peppered kisses along his stomach all the way up to his chest. Castiel hummed in approval, his body melting onto the carpet as Dean showered him with attention. It was bliss.
Calloused hands explored every inch of newly scarred skin, the uneven bumps, blemishes and day-old bug bites standing out against his skin tone. Dean vaguely wondered if these were side effects of falling, or if Castiel’s vessel had always carried them. His lips fastened to a nipple and sucked. He smelled of musk and sweat, the leather of Dean’s car and spilled beer; he also smelled of rain and pine. The mixture was intriguing, odd, and Dean didn’t really know why the fuck he was thinking about any of that when he had a really willing angel begging to be fucked. Switching to the other nipple, he paid closer attention to Castiel’s desperate little murmurs. He deliberately twirled a wet tongue around the nub, thoroughly dampening it with his saliva before tugging at it with his teeth. One of Castiel’s hands were now clutching at his hair, pulling hard enough to make Dean wince, which made it all the more sexier.
Dean worked him slowly, making sure he had the angel at full mast before they continued onto the good stuff. It was a slow process, but Dean was kind enough to be patient. He ran his mouth along Castiel’s ribs and across his stomach, bit down around the fleshy part of his navel before dipping his tongue into it. Castiel keened softly, his head lolling around the pillow as Dean slowly pulled him apart with the attention; the nearly worshipful touch sent jolts of pure adrenaline and want down his spine.
Sitting back on his haunches, Dean took a moment to properly look down at the wrecked angel with a smug smirk. This was the kind of stuff the best porn was made of. Removing his shirt and unbuckling his pants, he had a little trouble deciding on what to do next. The top half of Castiel’s body was well taken care of, especially when the angel began to touch along it, eyes glued to Dean like he was the only thing in the room. The bottom half, however, had been neglected long enough.
A finger ran along the length of Cas’ cock, the fabric catching on a nail and causing it to run; a string of flimsy nylon came undone. Dean toyed with the fabric, pinching and pulling before letting it snap back into place, sticking to Castiel like a second skin. He palmed him instead, smoothly gliding his hand along the shaft and pressing down on the head. His own cock was straining in his jeans, but right then the angel spread before him deserved all of the attention he could get. Leaning down, Dean fastened his mouth over his balls and pulled. The garments made the movement awkward and difficult, the fabric rough on his tongue, but the sound Cas made was enough to make him do it again and again, each time sloppier than the last.
Castiel blinked in order to focus when he heard a muted rip; looking down he noticed Dean ripping a hole into the stockings. “You could have removed them.” The angel looked genuinely confused at his own tone of voice, but quickly forgot about it when he noticed the feral look that flashed across Dean’s face. That voice did serious things to him.
“What’s the fun in that?” Leaning to his side and grabbing the small egg-shaped bottle of lube, Dean applied a liberal amount on his hands and cock. It really did warm to the touch, who would have thought it. “Those aren’t coming off until I’m done with you, Cas.” Rolling with it, Dean poured some of the pale blue gel over the flimsy fabric holding Cas’ cock in place. They were going to make one hell of a mess but Dean couldn’t find it in him to give a shit.
Dean gave himself a few pumps, huffing in amusement at how Castiel’s eyes immediately dropped to get a good view of the action, before crawling over the angel and dropping onto him. Cas’ gasp was more in shock than actual pleasure, but Dean took care of that in a matter of moments. Shifting his hips, Dean struggled to find the hole he had made and once he did, he slid home.
It was euphoric; having his cock pressed along Cas’, in between wet skin and rough fabric was enough to get Dean humping without restraint. Castiel, bless his grace, had firmly planted his feet on the carpet and lifted his hips, easing their movements and quickening their pace, the constant chaffing making him babble words Dean was sure weren’t English.
Teeth were tugging at clothes in a desperate attempt to get to Cas’ neck, the shirt and jacket proving annoying as Dean licked and bit along the long expanse of skin, the stubble rough on his lips. A free hand slipped underneath the angel to firmly grab his ass and help his movement. Dean was certain he didn’t need the help; that mojo was seriously something, but the nylon covering those firm muscles felt fucking amazing to the touch so groped to his heart’s content.
Both of Castiel’s hands were running along Dean’s hair, tugging small tufts before smoothening them down again. He was aware just how much Dean hated that outside of copulation-Cas stopped the train of thought and rephrased that last part-when they weren’t ‘fucking’. He did it anyways. When Sam wasn’t around, or when they were driving across state lines with the younger Winchester asleep in the backseat, Castiel will outstretch his arms and adoringly caress Dean’s hair. After the initial protest, the hunter would shut up and lean into the calming touch. Now, lying on the floor, half naked, humping within an inch of their life, it was okay to do it freely. At one point Castiel pulled hard on a bunch right above Dean’s neck and was rewarded with a sharp snap of the hunter’s hips and a loud moan that interrupted the steady stream of erratic pants.
The blown pupils in Dean’s eyes told him he was close and Castiel couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He was nowhere near completion, which meant Dean would probably be too tired to finish with him. Part of him longed for the simultaneous orgasm they had experienced the first time they joined this way. Castiel wanted to push him away, switch their current position into something more pleasurable, but got distracted by the constant squelching noise coming from between their bodies. He really did enjoy that certain brand of lubricant; it amplified the sensitivity and made the scathing heat of the chaffing all the more pleasant. When Dean choked out his name, Castiel dropped back onto the floor and sat up.
“H-Hey.” Dean’s protest was cut off by ravenous lips, smooth and hard and wet and really fucking hot. Castiel was probably the angel of kisses, simply because Dean had kissed his fair share of people before, but not a single one of them kissed like Cas. It was like he bore his entire existence into it; every fiber of his celestial self set him on fire, like touching a livewire. Surfacing for air, Dean growled against his mouth. “Fuck, man.” He kissed him again, hard enough to be bruising but his touch told a completely different story. There was tenderness where his hands caressed and heat where their chests met.
It was fucking amazing.
Reluctantly pulling away, Castiel crawled over to the ledge of the bed and straightened up on his knees, resting his arms on top of the mattress and his head on top of them. He rotated his hips invitingly, sinuously arching his back.
Dean got with the program.
Wrapping his arms around Castiel’s midriff and pressing his chest along his back, Dean took the opportunity to kiss the back of the angel’s neck. “I was hoping you’d fuck me instead,” Dean murmured into Castiel’s ear, grounding his hips against that pretty little ass.
Castiel adamantly shook his head while spreading his knees, arching his back to meet with Dean’s teasing movements. “Please?”
It was like knocking the wind out of him. Dean nodded while easing the angel out of his jacket and carelessly tossing it aside. The shirt he peeled off his shoulders but tugged his arms behind his back; Castiel went reluctantly, knowing what was going to happen but he trusted Dean. It wasn’t his favorite of kinks, but Dean tended to be surprisingly tender once the bonds were removed. He let him tie his arms behind his back with the shirt he didn’t fully remove. Surrendering control made him uneasy, but if anything he could just break through them with a thought. But this was Dean.
“Up.” Cas turned his head in confusion. “Rug burns are a total bitch.” Dean’s hand wrapped around Castiel’s thigh and gestured him up, pushing a pillow underneath to cushion his knee. He did the same with the other. “It’ll make it easier.” He reassured by pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.
Adjusting himself into a comfortable position, the side of his face pressed comfortably against the mattress, Cas spread his knees further apart to better allow Dean access. He sighed and waited, listening closely as Dean removed his jeans and sloppily fisted his cock before pressing up against him again. Slick hands slipped down his back, nails soft against the nubs of his spine as they descended far enough to fondle the angel’s ass.
Kissing Cas’ neck, Dean swiftly tugged down the hem of the pantyhose to release his cock, snapping it tightly against Cas’ balls. He let his hand linger, feeling their weight against his palm before tracing the vein up to the tip where he squeezed, making the man groan underneath him. Falling into an easy rhythm of jacking Castiel off, his free hand came to make yet another rip in the garments, widening it enough for him to fit. Dean slipped his hand in and touched along the smooth skin of his buttocks, squeezing and fondling as Cas worked his hips, torn between bucking into the hand upfront and rubbing against the one in the back.
It was a bit of a challenge but Dean managed to reach for the lube with the hand he wasn’t jerking Cas off with and opened it with his teeth. He poured a liberal amount on the hole he had made in the nylon and quickly tossed it aside, slipping his hand back in and spreading it over the general area before slipping a finger between his cheeks. Castiel keened when he teased his hole, his finger rubbing light circles over the puckered area before slowly pushing in.
Preparing Castiel was practically useless. The lack of sensation was the predicament in the first place; there was no pain when it came to penetration. He could feel it, yes; the initial burn and the sense of something foreign intruding him, but he wasn’t human. Castiel didn’t know what normal was supposed to feel like. He didn’t get that having something shoved up one’s ass was something most humans deemed unnatural, uncomfortable and difficult. Castiel did understand that Dean, after having so long repressed it, was surprisingly new to it. It was need that drove Dean to prepare him, to make sure Castiel was comfortable, and it made something glow inside of the angel. He loved having Dean inside of him, filling him to the brim and spilling over as a physical representation of their connection. It was both too human and too divine for words to be able to explain.
Dean murmured a string of sheer filth beside Castiel’s ear, slowly stretching him apart as he inserted another finger, massaging the walls and easing the muscles that pulled him in relentlessly. He took his time, scissoring and pumping, before inserting a third one and deeming Cas loose enough to take him. Pressing against his back again, Dean licked along the edge of his ear before blowing hot air, triggering a full-body shudder. “How’s that feel?” Castiel made a noise lost between a mewl and a groan meeting his name. “Thought so.”
His heart rammed hard against his ribcage as he lined himself up, his head pressed teasingly against the stretched hole. Five times; Dean had done this exactly five times and it still made him nervously excited. With a miniscule shift, the head broke through the tight ring of muscle. He stopped to catch his breath and calm the sound of blood rushing in his ears before he began to move again, bottoming out in one fluid motion. Castiel was deliciously pliant as their bodies melted together, not a single inch without touching, but he clenched down wickedly on Dean’s cock just to get that choked sound out of him.
Fisting the bundled shirt tighter in his hand, Dean jerked Castiel back, making the angel straighten up to lay flushed against him. By this point, looking down at the flushed body with sweat and arousal, Dean was starting to believe that it was Castiel’s mojo that kept him from coming on the spot. Seeing Cas walking around in pantyhose was one thing, but seeing him spread only for him, his cock standing and shaded a dusky red, obscenely slick with lube and precome; skin stretched out over ribs and muscles taut in order to hold the position and not throw Dean off with his weight; the sheen of sweat that clung to his skin, making the pantyhose stick to the tight dark curls at the base of his cock-fuck. It took him a while to notice that he was mindlessly moving.
The small noises Castiel was making were lewd and disgruntled; he was as far away from holy as he could possibly get, tugged down into the mud with the monkeys. Something in Dean told him that the angel didn’t give a damn at that very moment. He had fallen, might as well enjoy the perks. Dean knew that he could in no way replace what Heaven was to Castiel, but he could damn well try and make him feel a bit better about the situation. Tightening his hold on the shirt, he pumped Cas’ cock a little faster, gyrating his wrist and squeezing a bit tighter whenever he reached the tip. He angled his hips and gave a sharp thrust that had the angel doubling over with a loud cry, mouth hanging open and begging for more once he managed to get air in his lungs again.
Time after time Dean tried to catalogue what the experience was like. He wanted to learn what pace set Castiel off; did he like it soft and slow? Or did he like it fast and rough? But each time he became blind and driven solely by the inhuman need to take and bite and plunge into that gloriously tight heat. He figured they’d wait it out. Let the initial sparks of euphoric ecstasy wear off with time until the point they could do this without wanting to crawl into each other’s bodies on a cellular level. Once the Disney magic passed and they were nothing but two guys needing to blow off some steam they’d explore what they wanted from the other.
Part of Dean whispered that the ‘seventeen-year-old girl’s first time’ feeling was never going to go away. He was okay with that as long as he didn’t have to voice his ‘feelings’ on the subject.
Dean’s hips snapped up, hard, grunting when Castiel met his movement with equal force. Enough of the sissy bullshit. “How’s that, huh? Can you feel it, Cas? Can you fucking feel it?” Castiel twisted his head and gave him a pointed glare that was practically the equivalent of an eye roll.
“Shut up, Dean.” The words would have been threatening if he hadn’t sounded so wrecked.
“I’m not… one… for taking orders.” He accentuated the word with a particularly deep thrust that made Castiel’s knee slip. “Don’t you want to hear it? Just how fucking perfect you look like this?” Dean’s voice was like smoke over polished marble, interrupted by grunts and the need to keep up with his breath. “Christ; the things you let me do to you... You go against your superiors, disobey orders, abandon your rank… for what? This?” He gave his cock a tight enough squeeze to be just this side of painful. “So you can roll over whenever I tell you to? So you can fucking beg me when you want it?” Dean was sure he was going to regret every single word in a few hours; he was letting his mouth run without thinking and was being a complete asshole about it. But the weight of the truth of it scared him more than he would admit.
“I don’t serve you.” The edge in Castiel’s voice was lethal.
The sudden rush of fear was like ice shooting up his spine, rendering him unable to say a damn thing. But Castiel wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t stopping his aborted jerks or the steady growling sporadically interrupted by a shaky moan. Castiel could just snap his fingers and be out of the situation, out of the room-hell, out of the damn realm-in less than a second. If anything, there was a spark in his eye that made the hunter stutter in his unrelenting thrusting. That was sheer, unadulterated lust. “And yet you’re on your knees.”
Castiel laughed, genuinely amused by the fact that Dean somewhat believed what he was saying. The sound was strange under the circumstance. “Quite. However, you seem to forget that I simply allowed you to maneuver me into this position.”
Dean quickened his pace in retaliation, the noisy slapping of skin against skin making them both groan. The hand grasping the bonds at Castiel’s back moved up to grab a fistful of his hair, pushing him down into the mattress to better angle himself, pounding deeper into him. The steady thrum of orgasm was swirling deep in his stomach, making his balls feel heavy and driving him faster still. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yes.” Castiel’s thighs itched; the rough fabric was cutting into his skin where it was still snagged beneath his genitals. It was enough to be severely uncomfortable, but he welcomed it. Humanity wasn’t just about the good feelings, and even if his grace still dampened most of the aches and itches he could still feel it. He was putting it on balance with the more pleasurable sensation of Dean’s fingers digging into his skull and tugging at his hair, and the engorged penis splitting him open so thoroughly. His body was over-sensitized. This had been his goal from the start, and now he fed on it greedily.
“You think you’re calling the shots here?” His tone was playful, fucked-out and raspy as he refused to let up his pace; his entire body pushed Castiel closer to the edge of the bed with the force of his pistoning hips.
Dean gasped in surprise when Castiel’s hand gripped the back of his head in a maneuver that should have been impossible considering their position. The angel jerked him forward, his hips forcing backwards to take more of Dean inside of him. Their mouths met in a kiss hard enough to be bruising, more teeth and tongue than actual lips. It was brutal, but it was the only way both beings knew how to express their passion. Pulling away, Castiel whispered against Dean’s plump wet mouth. “I know I do.”
Like a punch to the gut, Dean’s coming harder than he’s done in an awfully long time.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
Two orgasms later and Castiel is still rock-hard, but his head is resting on Dean’s naked lap, humming contently as the hunter runs his fingers through his disarrayed hair. The air conditioning feels lovely on his hot skin though sweat and spunk have dried over his stomach; he could swear there’s still some leftover come dripping out from where Dean had shot in about an hour ago. He angles his head, occasionally running his tongue over the flaccid penis so close to his lips and Dean would tug at his hair in warning, telling him that he wasn’t ready for round three just yet.
“Next time you decide to control my biological default to come when my body is ready to, don’t. Just don’t. I thought my dick was going to blow up.” Dean protested lightly, his back resting against the wall and feeling completely sated. “You’re one kinky asshole, Cas.”
“So are you.” He gestured offhandedly towards where the pantyhose had been discarded. “Fair is fair, however. You’ll be wearing something to my liking the next time we have sex.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?” Castiel smiled up at him, crinkling his eyes in a way that was too adoring for Dean’s taste. He hated the sudden burst of warmth it triggered in his chest. Afterglows were nice and all, but Cas had no right in making him feel like a girl.
“Judging by past accounts, I think you’ll find it rather enjoyable.” He didn’t mind the suspicious look Dean gave him in the slightest. Instead, he leans up to steal a surprisingly chaste kiss. “Now, I would be grateful if you showed me the basic mechanics of a blowjob.”
With a snort, Dean complied.
Genre: Romance, PWP
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Word Count: 6,900
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Slight D/S vibes, filthy language of the blasphemous kind and Cas in pantyhose. Un-beta'd.
Summary: Dean had a love/hate relationship with the runs along Castiel's thighs.
Notes: Could be read as a sequel to this fic, but could definitely be read as a standalone piece.
It didn’t surprise Dean just how thin Castiel was beneath the dozens of layers hanging loosely on his shoulders. Always the same familiar and generic tones of black and tan with a hint of white and blue that blurred in and out of his line of vision as months passed by. On a subconscious level he tended to count the times he saw a person, be it in a day, a week, a month or even years depending on his relationship with them. With Cas it was different. He had tried to keep count once, but after the millionth time the angel had simply vanished he gave up entirely. Castiel was ever a blur to him. He wasn’t solid like Sam, or even like Bobby; Cas was but mist to him. Interesting to look at, curious to walk through but nothing to grab onto.
Lately Dean found himself staring without a single relevant thought in his head. His eyes would wander to the scruffy neck, slid down over white cotton and blue polyester until finally drifting to those broad shoulders. It was a deceptive appearance. Dean knew more than anyone that a single flick of a long finger was enough to turn the toughest of dickbags to dust. Yet, even as Sam kicked him beneath the table, leveling up his bitchface to radioactive levels, all Dean would think about was if the car needed an oil change. That somehow led him to wonder if his favorite sleeping shirt could go another week without washing and if he had forgotten his deodorant over at that last motel in Iowa. Staring at Castiel always came with irrelevant and mundane thoughts.
“Dean, you’re gawking.” Sam bit out tersely over his penne and alfredo pasta. It lacked any real zest and the sauce was cold, but it was better than another Triple Baconator. If nothing supernatural would be able to drive Dean into the ground, a few clogged arteries could do the job. “It’s creepy.”
“Your face is creepy.” He countered as he plucked up a cheesy fry and swirled it around the leftover hot sauce that had dripped from his taco onto his plate. He turned his eyes back to Cas who was now openly staring back, his cheeks surprisingly flushed over the usual troubled expression.
When staring at Cas, Dean thought of nonsensical stuff. Now wasn’t one of those times.
Beneath the table, kind enough to spare Sam the mental trauma, Dean was caressing his leg against Cas’ in a slow circular motion. Just a minute movement; would have gone complete unnoticed if not for the fact that Cas was in on their shared little secret. Jeans chaffed against dress slacks that slid surprisingly easy under the careful caress. At one point Dean had hooked his leg around Castiel’s and tugged it forward, making the angel jerk in surprise and go stiff when Sam gave him a funny look.
Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew his brother was up to something, but in the name of all that was Holy he really did not want to know. Finding not so mysterious stains and blotches of sweat on the neighboring bed was one thing, but this was way above his pay grade. He knew the nearly predatory glint in Dean’s eyes when he began to circle in on a potential mate, and there it was, clear as day. Also, the way he kept licking his lips and occasionally biting the bottom one was a dead giveaway. He’d probably have to get a separate room that evening. At times he felt inclined to feel sorry for Castiel and the ways Dean was defiling him, but then he remembered walking in on them six weeks ago. Sure he had been kind enough to hang his tie on the doorknob, but honestly, who would have pieced two and two together when the people in question were Cas and Dean: an angel of the Lord and his ‘no boobs, no care’ brother? The image of a wrecked Cas and a half naked Dean was enough to make him push his pasta away.
“Tomorrow at noon we pick up the trail again, their nest shouldn’t be that far off.” Dean said with finality to that evening’s conversation. They were looking for a group of vampires that had taken to snacking on a local community college. So far they had no idea where their nest was at, even after two days of nonstop searching.
“Why wait until noon?” It was the first thing Castiel had said in a while, having been too engrossed in his chicken sandwich and the leg rubbing against his to really pay any attention at the brothers’ constant bickering.
“Sun’s nice and high. Won’t do much to kill them but it’ll hurt like hell until their heads roll.” Sam clarified around the straw in his mouth. He was starting to get used to explaining how hunting worked now that Cas stuck around longer than he had a few months prior to the apocalypse. The guy really came in handy whenever they hit a particularly tough spot.
Castiel nodded, taking Sam’s word for it.
“That settles it then.” Reaching for a napkin, Dean wipes his fingers clean. “What are your plans for tonight?” The question was aimed at Sam, but the face the younger Winchester pulled made him think it was misinterpreted. Dean had the decency to look surprised.
“Uh, I’m just going to… do something. Probably stake out at the campus and see if anything decides to drop by.” Sam could feel his cheeks turn a little green. In his defense, the question had sounded too innocent coming from Dean’s mouth, which meant that something was definitely up. A something he really didn’t want to think about or else his pasta would threaten to come right back up. “You should get some rest.” The glint in Dean’s eye told him he was right. “So, uh, yeah, I’ll catch up to you guys in the morning.”
“Here.” Dean took the keys from his pocket and threw them at him. “Long drive up there.”
“What about you?”
“We’ll walk.” Neither of them noticed how Castiel’s shoulders sagged at that. “Motel’s not that far and the night is young. The breeze is cool, the starts are twinkling…”
“Yeah, okay Dean, I get it.” Sam squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying hard to not think about what his brother was suggesting. “Whatever.”
“Prude!” Dean called as Sam walked out the door. He eased back into his booth with a smirk, offering a friendly nod at the lady sitting across from them who answered with a sour look. Seemed like Sam wasn’t the only prude in the joint. His smile shifted, this time reaching his eyes with a little more heat as he turned to look at Cas. “Just you and me.”
“We aren’t alone.” The angel so helpfully pointed out, looking over his shoulder to signal at a family sitting across the restaurant.
“That’s not what I meant, Cas.” The tip of his boot nudged up the hem of Castiel’s slacks, the exposed area making the worn leather of the boots slide freely. “How you holding up? How’s it feel?” He lowered his voice just enough to be out of reach of the nearest patron, but loud enough for anybody walking by to hear him. Dean watched Castiel’s neck, the Adam’s apple bobbing when the angel threw a cautious look around them.
“It’s uncomfortable.” When Dean raised his eyebrows, he clarified. “The heat is making it cling to my genitals.” This he said leaning over the table conspiratorially. To prove the point, Castiel shifted in his seat, pulling his leg away from Dean’s insistent rubbing. “It’s very unpleasant.”
Dean look wounded, but Cas was one unshakeable asshole. “Fine. Go ahead and mojo us back to the room.” Part of Dean wanted Cas to look at least a tiny bit guilty, but when he quickly rose to his feet and began walking outside, he only groaned. Another plan thwarted. “Hey, wait up. I think we’re clear for takeoff.”
“I believe you said we were walking?”
“Well, you said they bothered you. No sense making it worse by walking.”
“Dean, I’ve been exposed to methods of torture far worse than you could imagine. I’m hardly fazed by women’s underwear.” True enough, there was nothing strange in Castiel’s stride as he made his way along the side of the empty road, hands in his coat pockets. He looked like an ordinary Joe heading home after a day’s work at the office and nothing like a celestial soldier pummeling to earth amidst the apocalypse while wearing women’s underwear in order to appease the Righteous Man’s fetishes. In fact, Dean was surprised by the humor in his tone.
“It’s enough?” Dean’s voice was hopeful, a little shaky as he jogged in order to catch up with him and mimicked the action of stuffing his hands away. “Think you’d be able to go tonight?”
There was a moment of quiet while Castiel debated the answer to those questions. Angels were nothing like humans, mentally and biologically speaking. They had no gender, no emotions, could feel no form of physical pain and lacked every human’s basic need for food, bathroom breaks, sleep and sex. They were but walking drones inhabiting a human host for celestial purposes. Castiel, however, being cut off from Heaven for disobedience was an entirely different story. For the last year or so he had begun to display the vast amount of human emotions bestowed upon him; months ago he gave into a more carnal need that had been spurred on by Dean himself. The experience had opened a brand new box of curiosities the two of them were struggling to assemble.
Castiel’s libido was erratic. There was no porn that could excite him, no teasing, no anything that could get him going in their limited time frame between hunts. It would take days of careful plotting, made even more difficult by Sam’s denseness, to even get him in the right mood. Dean, sharing Castiel’s curious nature, wanted to know just what he needed to do to make him tick. It was frustrating for him, but he was starting to get the hang of it.
Touch seemed to have the best results, so Dean touched him. While driving, Dean would press his fingers to Cas’ strangely delicate wrists. While they sat at a table, Dean would pull him out and begin pumping him while they went through local reports. When Sam wasn’t looking, Dean would slip his hand inside the coat and pinch a nipple. It was a slow progression, but once Castiel was up and at ‘em, it was Dean’s turn to beg for some respite. It took the same amount of time to properly satisfy the angel. Not that Dean was complaining about the glorious sex, but his body was not meant to orgasm four times in one night.
It had been a while since Castiel had taken a proper load off due to their busy schedule, so Dean decided to push the envelope. Constant stimulation for the angel and a side dish for him. Too many times did Castiel just let him use his body for his own pleasure without taking anything in return, understanding that they had no time for a mutual orgasm but insisting that satisfying Dean was more than he could possibly ask for. Dean couldn’t help but feel dirty about it. It wasn’t right for him to get his rocks off on Cas when the angel wasn’t getting anything in turn, which is what led him to that idea.
Dean insisted that the smooth material would feel good against his skin and in truth it wasn’t the feeling of the garments that aroused him in the end. The knowledge that Dean was taking pleasure in this; that Dean concerned himself with trying to offer Castiel an equal amount of pleasure, that this was something for the two of them, was enough for him. This was theirs. Their pleasure, and nothing could turn on Cas more than that.
“Yes, I think I’d be able to go tonight.” The words were foreign on his tongue. They sounded odd but the smile Dean gave him was worth it.
He wanted to blame it on the cold, and so he did; Dean pressed his shoulder to Cas’ as they walked down the road to their motel. Now they needed to work on focusing Castiel’s orgasm-induced energy bomb to shortening out the city instead of the entire state.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
Removing his tie and hanging it on the doorknob was one Castiel’s favorite parts when it came to foreplay. It was such a minute gesture that mostly made Dean laugh, and maybe that was why he enjoyed it so much. He stood there as Dean shut the door behind him, sliding all three bolts home and the little chain as well. Next were the curtains.
Dean didn’t notice when Castiel vanished for a brief moment before returning with a bottle of lube until he saw him standing there, little blue egg-shaped bottle in hand. He gave the angel a knowing smirk, slipping his hands into his jean’s pockets and winked. “I still had some from last time. You didn’t have to go through the trouble.” But Dean knew it was more than just the need of the substance. It was one hell of a strange world when an angel had a favorite brand of lubricant. Apparently it ‘warmed to the touch’. Dean sure as hell didn’t complain about it; at least it didn’t taste like strawberries.
Putting down the bottle on the bed, Castiel shrugged off his coat. “I prefer this one.” It was all he offered as an explanation and luckily Dean didn’t press on.
Castiel was thin; those narrow shoulders went perfectly with narrow hips and the suit jacket framed his figure nicely. He was smaller than Dean, not by much, but enough to turn him on. It was easy to manhandle him, flip him over and pull him into whatever position Dean wanted him in, but he didn’t. Cas could squish him with a thought. There were times though, in which Dean thought it would be okay, because there were still times in which Castiel asked for orders. It made Dean sick to his stomach, the knowledge that he could get off on that.
The hands that landed on Castiel’s hips ran up, the white fabric of the button down rolling with it and falling out of his trousers with ease. Castiel sighed when Dean’s chest melded against his back; the sensation of dull heat in the coldness of the room making his arousal spike. Dean angled his hips, rhythmically pressing against Cas’ ass before easing the pressure. The angel met everything push with an arch of his back, his head tipped against Dean’s shoulders and mouth open to release short breathless pants.
When Dean decided he was achingly hard, he kicked it up a notch. Undoing the button of Cas’ pants, the angel moaned, the sound of it deliciously obscene against Dean’s ear. “Let’s see what we have here.” Both of Dean’s hands pressed against the line where hip met thigh and strained the fabric, marking out the shape of Castiel’s cock. “Look at that. Fuck, you’re so ready for me.” His voice dropped to a husky purr, the tip of his tongue running along the curve of Cas’ ear. The pants slid unnaturally when he let off the pressure, and being reminded of what lied underneath Castiel’s pants sent blood rushing down south. It was like a punch of arousal right to his dick.
Under different circumstances the sight of Cas shimming his hips would have been absurd, not to mention really fucking funny, but as his intentions were to slide off his pants with as little effort as possible, it had the opposite effect. Dean groaned against his neck when the dress slacks pooled around his feet, palms immediately heading down to touch Cas’ thighs. Castiel pulled away, turning around to face Dean as he stood by the bed, letting the hunter give him a good once over. “Does this please you?”
Dean was sure he had the willpower of a saint.
Castiel’s shirt was too long, his jacket as well and Dean noted that it was too much clothes to be wearing, but it was just the right level of teasing. His eyes drank up every inch of Cas’ legs, from his toes, all the way up his shins and calves, knees and finally thighs that disappeared beneath white fabric. The nylon that stuck to them, pale and sheer, blending nicely with Castiel’s skin color had them both panting for completely different yet mutual reasons. “Fuck. Let me see you, Cas.” Obediently, Castiel raised his shirt a few inches. “Yeah, you can fucking bet on it.”
The fabric molded seamlessly along his hips, hugging his balls and encasing his cock erotically; a dark spot was forming close to the tip. It was obscene, having an angel simply stand there, holding up his shirt like a pinup girl modeling pantyhose. But fuck if it didn’t turn them both on.
“It’s a curious sensation, walking with these alone.” Forgetting himself to his curiosity Castiel touched along the top of his thighs, the fabric felt rough against his soft hands. “My thighs slip enough to be uncomfortable.”
Dean had enough control of his thoughts to chuckle, more at the dewy-eyed look Castiel was giving him than the actual words. The mirth slipped away when the angel’s hand slipped from thigh to crotch, hesitantly palming himself through the fabric and moaning at the sharp sensation. “Good thing we don’t have to do much walking now.” He looked pointedly towards the bed but was mildly surprised when Castiel shook his head. “What? You plan on walking for charity or something?”
With a loud sigh, Castiel walked over to the head of the bed, giving Dean a lovely show of a deliciously round ass. He creased his eyebrows when the angel grabbed all four pillows and threw them on the floor. “I find the sound of a creaking bed grating.”
Personally, Dean liked to make the bed creak and the headboard slam against the wall, but floor sex was all kinds of kinky and he wasn’t about to deny his partner that. It was good to see Cas taking some sort of initiative when it came to their sex life. As comforting as it was for the guy to do as he was suggested without question, there was something insanely hot when he got bossy. Castiel delivered when he grabbed Dean by his shirt and pulled him in for a soft kiss, lightly nibbling at the corner of his lip before pulling away.
Dean watched silently as Castiel gracefully dropped himself to the floor, resting his head on a pillow before stretching out like a cat in order to get comfortable. He was all lean muscle and bone, coiled up power and quivering arousal as strands of dark hair fell over too bright eyes. A tongue swiped across chapped lips as he looked up at Dean invitingly, slowly opening his legs in offering. Dean had to curse, because the asshole had no fucking right to be so damn beautiful.
“Come on, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was warm, laced with lust and adoration so deep Dean found it hard to swallow. Falling to his knees, he latched his hands beneath Cas’ ribs and trailed them up, taking the shirt and jacket with him as he peppered kisses along his stomach all the way up to his chest. Castiel hummed in approval, his body melting onto the carpet as Dean showered him with attention. It was bliss.
Calloused hands explored every inch of newly scarred skin, the uneven bumps, blemishes and day-old bug bites standing out against his skin tone. Dean vaguely wondered if these were side effects of falling, or if Castiel’s vessel had always carried them. His lips fastened to a nipple and sucked. He smelled of musk and sweat, the leather of Dean’s car and spilled beer; he also smelled of rain and pine. The mixture was intriguing, odd, and Dean didn’t really know why the fuck he was thinking about any of that when he had a really willing angel begging to be fucked. Switching to the other nipple, he paid closer attention to Castiel’s desperate little murmurs. He deliberately twirled a wet tongue around the nub, thoroughly dampening it with his saliva before tugging at it with his teeth. One of Castiel’s hands were now clutching at his hair, pulling hard enough to make Dean wince, which made it all the more sexier.
Dean worked him slowly, making sure he had the angel at full mast before they continued onto the good stuff. It was a slow process, but Dean was kind enough to be patient. He ran his mouth along Castiel’s ribs and across his stomach, bit down around the fleshy part of his navel before dipping his tongue into it. Castiel keened softly, his head lolling around the pillow as Dean slowly pulled him apart with the attention; the nearly worshipful touch sent jolts of pure adrenaline and want down his spine.
Sitting back on his haunches, Dean took a moment to properly look down at the wrecked angel with a smug smirk. This was the kind of stuff the best porn was made of. Removing his shirt and unbuckling his pants, he had a little trouble deciding on what to do next. The top half of Castiel’s body was well taken care of, especially when the angel began to touch along it, eyes glued to Dean like he was the only thing in the room. The bottom half, however, had been neglected long enough.
A finger ran along the length of Cas’ cock, the fabric catching on a nail and causing it to run; a string of flimsy nylon came undone. Dean toyed with the fabric, pinching and pulling before letting it snap back into place, sticking to Castiel like a second skin. He palmed him instead, smoothly gliding his hand along the shaft and pressing down on the head. His own cock was straining in his jeans, but right then the angel spread before him deserved all of the attention he could get. Leaning down, Dean fastened his mouth over his balls and pulled. The garments made the movement awkward and difficult, the fabric rough on his tongue, but the sound Cas made was enough to make him do it again and again, each time sloppier than the last.
Castiel blinked in order to focus when he heard a muted rip; looking down he noticed Dean ripping a hole into the stockings. “You could have removed them.” The angel looked genuinely confused at his own tone of voice, but quickly forgot about it when he noticed the feral look that flashed across Dean’s face. That voice did serious things to him.
“What’s the fun in that?” Leaning to his side and grabbing the small egg-shaped bottle of lube, Dean applied a liberal amount on his hands and cock. It really did warm to the touch, who would have thought it. “Those aren’t coming off until I’m done with you, Cas.” Rolling with it, Dean poured some of the pale blue gel over the flimsy fabric holding Cas’ cock in place. They were going to make one hell of a mess but Dean couldn’t find it in him to give a shit.
Dean gave himself a few pumps, huffing in amusement at how Castiel’s eyes immediately dropped to get a good view of the action, before crawling over the angel and dropping onto him. Cas’ gasp was more in shock than actual pleasure, but Dean took care of that in a matter of moments. Shifting his hips, Dean struggled to find the hole he had made and once he did, he slid home.
It was euphoric; having his cock pressed along Cas’, in between wet skin and rough fabric was enough to get Dean humping without restraint. Castiel, bless his grace, had firmly planted his feet on the carpet and lifted his hips, easing their movements and quickening their pace, the constant chaffing making him babble words Dean was sure weren’t English.
Teeth were tugging at clothes in a desperate attempt to get to Cas’ neck, the shirt and jacket proving annoying as Dean licked and bit along the long expanse of skin, the stubble rough on his lips. A free hand slipped underneath the angel to firmly grab his ass and help his movement. Dean was certain he didn’t need the help; that mojo was seriously something, but the nylon covering those firm muscles felt fucking amazing to the touch so groped to his heart’s content.
Both of Castiel’s hands were running along Dean’s hair, tugging small tufts before smoothening them down again. He was aware just how much Dean hated that outside of copulation-Cas stopped the train of thought and rephrased that last part-when they weren’t ‘fucking’. He did it anyways. When Sam wasn’t around, or when they were driving across state lines with the younger Winchester asleep in the backseat, Castiel will outstretch his arms and adoringly caress Dean’s hair. After the initial protest, the hunter would shut up and lean into the calming touch. Now, lying on the floor, half naked, humping within an inch of their life, it was okay to do it freely. At one point Castiel pulled hard on a bunch right above Dean’s neck and was rewarded with a sharp snap of the hunter’s hips and a loud moan that interrupted the steady stream of erratic pants.
The blown pupils in Dean’s eyes told him he was close and Castiel couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He was nowhere near completion, which meant Dean would probably be too tired to finish with him. Part of him longed for the simultaneous orgasm they had experienced the first time they joined this way. Castiel wanted to push him away, switch their current position into something more pleasurable, but got distracted by the constant squelching noise coming from between their bodies. He really did enjoy that certain brand of lubricant; it amplified the sensitivity and made the scathing heat of the chaffing all the more pleasant. When Dean choked out his name, Castiel dropped back onto the floor and sat up.
“H-Hey.” Dean’s protest was cut off by ravenous lips, smooth and hard and wet and really fucking hot. Castiel was probably the angel of kisses, simply because Dean had kissed his fair share of people before, but not a single one of them kissed like Cas. It was like he bore his entire existence into it; every fiber of his celestial self set him on fire, like touching a livewire. Surfacing for air, Dean growled against his mouth. “Fuck, man.” He kissed him again, hard enough to be bruising but his touch told a completely different story. There was tenderness where his hands caressed and heat where their chests met.
It was fucking amazing.
Reluctantly pulling away, Castiel crawled over to the ledge of the bed and straightened up on his knees, resting his arms on top of the mattress and his head on top of them. He rotated his hips invitingly, sinuously arching his back.
Dean got with the program.
Wrapping his arms around Castiel’s midriff and pressing his chest along his back, Dean took the opportunity to kiss the back of the angel’s neck. “I was hoping you’d fuck me instead,” Dean murmured into Castiel’s ear, grounding his hips against that pretty little ass.
Castiel adamantly shook his head while spreading his knees, arching his back to meet with Dean’s teasing movements. “Please?”
It was like knocking the wind out of him. Dean nodded while easing the angel out of his jacket and carelessly tossing it aside. The shirt he peeled off his shoulders but tugged his arms behind his back; Castiel went reluctantly, knowing what was going to happen but he trusted Dean. It wasn’t his favorite of kinks, but Dean tended to be surprisingly tender once the bonds were removed. He let him tie his arms behind his back with the shirt he didn’t fully remove. Surrendering control made him uneasy, but if anything he could just break through them with a thought. But this was Dean.
“Up.” Cas turned his head in confusion. “Rug burns are a total bitch.” Dean’s hand wrapped around Castiel’s thigh and gestured him up, pushing a pillow underneath to cushion his knee. He did the same with the other. “It’ll make it easier.” He reassured by pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.
Adjusting himself into a comfortable position, the side of his face pressed comfortably against the mattress, Cas spread his knees further apart to better allow Dean access. He sighed and waited, listening closely as Dean removed his jeans and sloppily fisted his cock before pressing up against him again. Slick hands slipped down his back, nails soft against the nubs of his spine as they descended far enough to fondle the angel’s ass.
Kissing Cas’ neck, Dean swiftly tugged down the hem of the pantyhose to release his cock, snapping it tightly against Cas’ balls. He let his hand linger, feeling their weight against his palm before tracing the vein up to the tip where he squeezed, making the man groan underneath him. Falling into an easy rhythm of jacking Castiel off, his free hand came to make yet another rip in the garments, widening it enough for him to fit. Dean slipped his hand in and touched along the smooth skin of his buttocks, squeezing and fondling as Cas worked his hips, torn between bucking into the hand upfront and rubbing against the one in the back.
It was a bit of a challenge but Dean managed to reach for the lube with the hand he wasn’t jerking Cas off with and opened it with his teeth. He poured a liberal amount on the hole he had made in the nylon and quickly tossed it aside, slipping his hand back in and spreading it over the general area before slipping a finger between his cheeks. Castiel keened when he teased his hole, his finger rubbing light circles over the puckered area before slowly pushing in.
Preparing Castiel was practically useless. The lack of sensation was the predicament in the first place; there was no pain when it came to penetration. He could feel it, yes; the initial burn and the sense of something foreign intruding him, but he wasn’t human. Castiel didn’t know what normal was supposed to feel like. He didn’t get that having something shoved up one’s ass was something most humans deemed unnatural, uncomfortable and difficult. Castiel did understand that Dean, after having so long repressed it, was surprisingly new to it. It was need that drove Dean to prepare him, to make sure Castiel was comfortable, and it made something glow inside of the angel. He loved having Dean inside of him, filling him to the brim and spilling over as a physical representation of their connection. It was both too human and too divine for words to be able to explain.
Dean murmured a string of sheer filth beside Castiel’s ear, slowly stretching him apart as he inserted another finger, massaging the walls and easing the muscles that pulled him in relentlessly. He took his time, scissoring and pumping, before inserting a third one and deeming Cas loose enough to take him. Pressing against his back again, Dean licked along the edge of his ear before blowing hot air, triggering a full-body shudder. “How’s that feel?” Castiel made a noise lost between a mewl and a groan meeting his name. “Thought so.”
His heart rammed hard against his ribcage as he lined himself up, his head pressed teasingly against the stretched hole. Five times; Dean had done this exactly five times and it still made him nervously excited. With a miniscule shift, the head broke through the tight ring of muscle. He stopped to catch his breath and calm the sound of blood rushing in his ears before he began to move again, bottoming out in one fluid motion. Castiel was deliciously pliant as their bodies melted together, not a single inch without touching, but he clenched down wickedly on Dean’s cock just to get that choked sound out of him.
Fisting the bundled shirt tighter in his hand, Dean jerked Castiel back, making the angel straighten up to lay flushed against him. By this point, looking down at the flushed body with sweat and arousal, Dean was starting to believe that it was Castiel’s mojo that kept him from coming on the spot. Seeing Cas walking around in pantyhose was one thing, but seeing him spread only for him, his cock standing and shaded a dusky red, obscenely slick with lube and precome; skin stretched out over ribs and muscles taut in order to hold the position and not throw Dean off with his weight; the sheen of sweat that clung to his skin, making the pantyhose stick to the tight dark curls at the base of his cock-fuck. It took him a while to notice that he was mindlessly moving.
The small noises Castiel was making were lewd and disgruntled; he was as far away from holy as he could possibly get, tugged down into the mud with the monkeys. Something in Dean told him that the angel didn’t give a damn at that very moment. He had fallen, might as well enjoy the perks. Dean knew that he could in no way replace what Heaven was to Castiel, but he could damn well try and make him feel a bit better about the situation. Tightening his hold on the shirt, he pumped Cas’ cock a little faster, gyrating his wrist and squeezing a bit tighter whenever he reached the tip. He angled his hips and gave a sharp thrust that had the angel doubling over with a loud cry, mouth hanging open and begging for more once he managed to get air in his lungs again.
Time after time Dean tried to catalogue what the experience was like. He wanted to learn what pace set Castiel off; did he like it soft and slow? Or did he like it fast and rough? But each time he became blind and driven solely by the inhuman need to take and bite and plunge into that gloriously tight heat. He figured they’d wait it out. Let the initial sparks of euphoric ecstasy wear off with time until the point they could do this without wanting to crawl into each other’s bodies on a cellular level. Once the Disney magic passed and they were nothing but two guys needing to blow off some steam they’d explore what they wanted from the other.
Part of Dean whispered that the ‘seventeen-year-old girl’s first time’ feeling was never going to go away. He was okay with that as long as he didn’t have to voice his ‘feelings’ on the subject.
Dean’s hips snapped up, hard, grunting when Castiel met his movement with equal force. Enough of the sissy bullshit. “How’s that, huh? Can you feel it, Cas? Can you fucking feel it?” Castiel twisted his head and gave him a pointed glare that was practically the equivalent of an eye roll.
“Shut up, Dean.” The words would have been threatening if he hadn’t sounded so wrecked.
“I’m not… one… for taking orders.” He accentuated the word with a particularly deep thrust that made Castiel’s knee slip. “Don’t you want to hear it? Just how fucking perfect you look like this?” Dean’s voice was like smoke over polished marble, interrupted by grunts and the need to keep up with his breath. “Christ; the things you let me do to you... You go against your superiors, disobey orders, abandon your rank… for what? This?” He gave his cock a tight enough squeeze to be just this side of painful. “So you can roll over whenever I tell you to? So you can fucking beg me when you want it?” Dean was sure he was going to regret every single word in a few hours; he was letting his mouth run without thinking and was being a complete asshole about it. But the weight of the truth of it scared him more than he would admit.
“I don’t serve you.” The edge in Castiel’s voice was lethal.
The sudden rush of fear was like ice shooting up his spine, rendering him unable to say a damn thing. But Castiel wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t stopping his aborted jerks or the steady growling sporadically interrupted by a shaky moan. Castiel could just snap his fingers and be out of the situation, out of the room-hell, out of the damn realm-in less than a second. If anything, there was a spark in his eye that made the hunter stutter in his unrelenting thrusting. That was sheer, unadulterated lust. “And yet you’re on your knees.”
Castiel laughed, genuinely amused by the fact that Dean somewhat believed what he was saying. The sound was strange under the circumstance. “Quite. However, you seem to forget that I simply allowed you to maneuver me into this position.”
Dean quickened his pace in retaliation, the noisy slapping of skin against skin making them both groan. The hand grasping the bonds at Castiel’s back moved up to grab a fistful of his hair, pushing him down into the mattress to better angle himself, pounding deeper into him. The steady thrum of orgasm was swirling deep in his stomach, making his balls feel heavy and driving him faster still. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yes.” Castiel’s thighs itched; the rough fabric was cutting into his skin where it was still snagged beneath his genitals. It was enough to be severely uncomfortable, but he welcomed it. Humanity wasn’t just about the good feelings, and even if his grace still dampened most of the aches and itches he could still feel it. He was putting it on balance with the more pleasurable sensation of Dean’s fingers digging into his skull and tugging at his hair, and the engorged penis splitting him open so thoroughly. His body was over-sensitized. This had been his goal from the start, and now he fed on it greedily.
“You think you’re calling the shots here?” His tone was playful, fucked-out and raspy as he refused to let up his pace; his entire body pushed Castiel closer to the edge of the bed with the force of his pistoning hips.
Dean gasped in surprise when Castiel’s hand gripped the back of his head in a maneuver that should have been impossible considering their position. The angel jerked him forward, his hips forcing backwards to take more of Dean inside of him. Their mouths met in a kiss hard enough to be bruising, more teeth and tongue than actual lips. It was brutal, but it was the only way both beings knew how to express their passion. Pulling away, Castiel whispered against Dean’s plump wet mouth. “I know I do.”
Like a punch to the gut, Dean’s coming harder than he’s done in an awfully long time.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
Two orgasms later and Castiel is still rock-hard, but his head is resting on Dean’s naked lap, humming contently as the hunter runs his fingers through his disarrayed hair. The air conditioning feels lovely on his hot skin though sweat and spunk have dried over his stomach; he could swear there’s still some leftover come dripping out from where Dean had shot in about an hour ago. He angles his head, occasionally running his tongue over the flaccid penis so close to his lips and Dean would tug at his hair in warning, telling him that he wasn’t ready for round three just yet.
“Next time you decide to control my biological default to come when my body is ready to, don’t. Just don’t. I thought my dick was going to blow up.” Dean protested lightly, his back resting against the wall and feeling completely sated. “You’re one kinky asshole, Cas.”
“So are you.” He gestured offhandedly towards where the pantyhose had been discarded. “Fair is fair, however. You’ll be wearing something to my liking the next time we have sex.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?” Castiel smiled up at him, crinkling his eyes in a way that was too adoring for Dean’s taste. He hated the sudden burst of warmth it triggered in his chest. Afterglows were nice and all, but Cas had no right in making him feel like a girl.
“Judging by past accounts, I think you’ll find it rather enjoyable.” He didn’t mind the suspicious look Dean gave him in the slightest. Instead, he leans up to steal a surprisingly chaste kiss. “Now, I would be grateful if you showed me the basic mechanics of a blowjob.”
With a snort, Dean complied.