Chapter Text
It's three days later; Sam went back to another hotel with some pretty server at this coffee shop they passed through today. This means Dean has a hotel room to himself. And god, does that make his day.
He shrugs off his jacket, tosses it on the floor, and smiles as he says the Angel's name, all happy and soft, "Cas?"
And when he turns around, there he is, an equally curious grin on his face. Dean decides he doesn't have time for curious grins, and goes ahead and just. Well.
He grabs Cas by the ass, and shoves him up against the wall.
And Castiel isn't aware he would enjoy this until now. But Dean is needy, and eager, and apparently feels the need to do this. Cas groans, short and soft into his mouth, and Dean just pushes back, grinds his hips into Cas's. It's rough denim against black slacks, more than enough pressure, making Cas's jaw go a little slack. And the kiss is intoxicating; Dean doesn't want it to end but Cas knows they've got to do this the right way.
The Angel pulls away, grabs Dean's face.
"Dean. We have time."
Dean looks at him like he's speaking a different language before he shakes his head a bit, clearing his mind, and nodding.
"Yeah. Yeah, right."
He spins around and lays Cas down on the bed and laughs.
"Sorry, Cas. Got a little excited s'all." He says, fussing with Cas's tie, loosening it until he can tug it over his head.
Cas smiles fondly at Dean as he undresses him, down to just Cas's black boxers. He takes his time, kissing Cas a few times in between taking off all the layers. Dean is actually pretty thankful Cas wears all these damn layers of clothes; it's funner to take each piece off slow. Drag it out.
Dean stands back and does the same for himself, leaves his boxers on as well, and watches Cas's eyes rake up and down his body. Dean can see his soft eyes turning into a shade of something not as innocent. And god, that just makes him want to ruin Cas even more. He loves this. How slowly the innocence and dignity just drains from Cas until he's left with nothing but need. That. That's what Dean needs to see.
Cas just swallows, and he's actually being silent, which is slighty abnormal.
"You okay, Cas?" Dean asks, raising his eyebrows.
Cas nods numbly, "you-" he clears his throat, "- you just look really nice, Dean. I forgot how nice." He won't stop looking Dean up and down, tracing his eyes over every part.
Dean raises an eyebrow, "it's been three days since you've seen me naked, Cas."
Cas nods, "yes. But it's different now."
Dean just shakes his head and smiles, "whatever you say, babe."
He climbs up on Cas, kisses him slow, and finds himself grinning into the kiss. And then something more unexpected- he can feel Cas smiling into it too. And it's not like Cas doesn't smile or anything, Dean just doesn't know him to do this. He's normally too caught up in the physicality of it to smile.
And so Dean pulls away for just a second, looking at him, and Cas still has that fucking grin plastered to his face.
"What's up with you?"
Cas blinks, looks down at Dean's chest, "You love this. You love when we have time."
Dean swallows, furrows his eyebrows, "well. Yeah."
"I'm just glad you're finally getting something you really want."
And Dean can't help the giddiness that washes over him- he hasn't had anyone else like Cas in his life before. Sam loves him to pieces, and cares about him more than his own self- but. Sam doesn't love Dean like Cas loves Dean.
It's just different, having Cas's happiness literally be directly dependent on Dean's happiness.
Dean kisses him again, all low chuckles in his throat and little hums that mean God I Love You.
And then Cas is shifting under him, wanting, just anything really. Something.
Dean lets one of his hands trail down Cas's neck, skimming his fingers as light as he can over the soft skin- Cas tips his head up into the kiss.
Dean's first finger is tracing, roaming over Cas's neck, brushes over his Adam's Apple, making Cas sort of giggle a bit. Dean keeps going, over to Cas's shoulder, cups his palm over the curve of it, reaches his thumb out to dip into the hollow that Cas's collarbones create.
The Angel jumps a bit, then practically melts into Dean's hand. Cas is kissing him a little harder, and Dean isn't sure how in the hell he's missed this, but it's without question.
"You," Dean starts, and Cas's eyes blink open when Dean pulls away, "is that- like."
Dean does it again, brushes his thumb across the little curves, and Castiel fucking whimpers.
The realization stings Dean's mind. He bites hard on his bottom lip, a smirk tugs across his face: a smooth curl of smoke. "My angel likes that, mm?" His voice is saturated with a taunting quality. He dips both thumbs into either hollow of Cas's collarbones, gently and tediously, making Cas sigh out a broken breath.
"Yeah, I don't- I don't know." His voice is rough. "I wasn't aware that was a sexually stimulating area for- for humans. But." Cas stops short, eyes fluttering closed when Dean traces his finger over it again. His chest dips up and down with the breaths he takes.
Dean's eyebrows furrow, "It is- Well. It's- it's not normally that sensitive. At least I don't think. I mean- It's not a bad thing, I just..." he shakes his head slightly, smile faded away, amusement filling his face.
And then Cas is swallowing, eyes still shut ,"will you do it again?"
"Just hang on,"
"Dean-"
"Shh," Dean says, all soft around the edges, and puts his lips right under Cas's jaw. Cas silences; jaw relaxes and mouth opens just slightly.
And Dean works to make his mind numb- just a little bit, just the first stage of tranquil. He kisses down his jawline, back to that spot that makes him gasp. And he stays there for a while, until Cas's breaths pick up.
Dean smirks, moves finally. Down to where his neck meets his shoulder, and then to those collarbones. And honestly, Dean is curious more than anything else, because (for whatever reason) he didn't know this- this thing until now. And so he's kind of wondering what it'll actually do to Cas. And how far he can push him with just this and god- now he's thinking all sorts of filthy things. Like he wonders if Cas can come from this, and then what if he can come twice and fuck, Dean wants to try it all just- not now. He can't do it now.
He's got to build this all up to a peak, go slow and rouse him up, to the very tip of his capacity and then break all the walls. Now isn't time to test him or to push Cas's buttons. Now is the time to be intentional in pulling him apart.
Dean starts slow, presses his lips to the little hollow right above his collarbone. Cas sighs, arms tense a bit. Dean smiles to himself. He just stays still for a second then; dragging it out.
He waits until he knows Cas is just about to say something and then, drags his tongue leisurely over the area, and Cas moans. Actually lets out a low draw in the back of his throat, which. That's insane. That he's that sensitive. Then it's open mouth kisses that make Cas so much more vocal than he really should be. So Dean can't really stop himself from humming, all deep and aroused against Cas's skin. He tastes like milk and honey and something else absolutely divine.
The Angel pushes his hips up, searching out any kind of friction he can get, but Dean moves with him, making sure that doesn't happen. He can't have any sort of pressure yet, or it'll all go too fast.
Castiel's mind is changing colors, thoughts swirling around like the bubbles in a lava lamp. Warm and dizzy and pleasurable- everything feels good.
He had acknowledged within the first few weeks of their relationship that what he had with Dean was probably not a good idea. It was probably stupid to develop such a close bond with a person- with a hunter, especially. More so, it was dangerous to have someone be your weak spot. Cas was an angel: no strong emotional attachments, no getting hurt, no being caught in a moment of weakness. But then there was Dean.
Dean who he could not stand to see hurt. Dean who made him smile like he was the happiest Angel to ever exist. Dean who would give his life for Cas. And Cas who would do the exact same.
He knew soulmates were real. Obviously. Fate and whatnot- it was all real. Things were inevitable in this world. Castiel knew this. He just never really figured that this- that Dean would be his thing to call 'fate'. It was certainly not something Cas had planned on- but still it was so.
It also turned out that Dean could make him feel better than anything else in the entirety of the universe. This, especially, was something Castiel had not anticipated- developing a sexual relationship with a human.
But everything was too easy with Dean. Immediately after the first time, he knew he couldn't give something like this up. He couldn't. And surely something that felt this nice and right could not be all that horrible.
And so he stayed. And he's glad, so far. Because that means things like this- like Dean knowing exactly how to make a warm flush of good flood over his skin. Dean knowing how far he can be pushed, and what he loves.
Cas likes seeing this look in Dean's eyes that can only be described as intent. He's being so careful, like Castiel is some fragile dandelion and if you push him a little too far in a certain direction he'll scatter in the wind. Like he knows exactly what he wants, but it's a matter of doing all the right things to get there. He looks at Cas gently, but with a passion deep, deep down inside him. A demeanor the color of cerulean, with a motive that blazes vermilion. It's the way Dean draws his bottom lip half way under his teeth; eyes half-lidded because he's almost intoxicated off the way Cas responds. That's what Cas loves. Why he wanted this.
"Doing so good, Cas," Dean mumbles, his voice is heavy and rich and Cas huffs out a breath at the sound of it. He licks over one of Cas's nipples, makes Cas grit his teeth. He trails down, kissing his chest.
Then Dean's lips are skimming down his stomach, dragging lightly. Tempting. The touch is barely there, but just enough so that it makes Cas's abdomen all fluttery. And then Dean is peeking up at him through dark, full lashes and his pupils are so fucking big it's absurd; he looks about a hundred times better than he does normally. And he can't take it-Dean's lips just look like absolute sin (the good kind), and it's all just not enough-
"Can you kiss me again, Dean?" He needs it. Just a little more. He knows that technically there shouldn't be any more kissing, because Dean's doing his best to drag this out. But Cas gives him this sad little stare and Dean has to comply.
Dean doesn't take hardly any time at all to sit up, lean forward, and kiss Cas, hard, weaving his hands through the Angel's hair.
Cas groans, and to his surprise, so does Dean. Apparently he isn't as composed as assumed.
Dean actually seems like maybe he wanted this more than Cas did. (he probably did). It's messy, but it's better than most. Just simply because of the lack of contact for so long and then all the warmth of Dean's lips at once; it's better.
It goes on for a little longer than expected, and Dean doesn't want to pull away but he has to, and Cas chases his lips but Dean just shakes his head, slides back down the bed to pick up where he left off.
Cas lets his eyes close, is conscious of every brush of Dean's lips. They move down, down, to the very top of Cas's boxers. Teeth drag at the skin just there and the Angel's hands grip tight into the sheets.
Cas regains his composure a bit when Dean's mouth leaves his skin entirely, but then it's an open mouth sucking on the innermost part of his thigh and Cas loses it all over again. His legs draw up closer to his torso; a warm buzz floods over his skin.
Dean grabs his ankles, pulls his legs back down some. Cas looks down at him. Dean's eyes are closed, he's humming softly against Cas's skin. Castiel gapes a bit at him, at how completely enthralled he is with this and how pretty he is when he's wound up like this. Dean comes up for a second, and then everything is left suspended in the air when Dean grabs his boxers and tugs them down, tosses them somewhere Cas can't see. Dean's eyes flicker up for a second, before his mouth returns to Cas's pale-but-in-a-pretty-way thighs.
"Dean. Dean- please, can you-something more."
"Angel..." Dean coos against his thigh, sending a shiver up his spine, "just hold on a little longer, Cas. I got you."
All Cas can really do is nod to that, let his head thump back against the pillow and enjoy every nip and lick of Dean's pretty mouth. And it's good- really good- but not enough. Driving Cas to want more more more.
What Castiel is not expecting is Dean's mouth on his perineum. His tongue presses hard against the area, and Cas just unravels.
"Dean," he growls all guttural and laced with arousal, "that's-"
"Shh, Cas. I know." Dean's breathing is soft and chill-enticing against his soft skin. He's getting more and more impatient, and he trusts Dean, he does, but he really needs something.
Dean presses his tongue to the spot a few more times before Castiel is hissing out the word 'fuck'. Dean could probably have came right then.
Dean peeks up to look at him, eyes wide and absolutely glazed with arousal "you don't do that. Like. Ever."
Cas's eyes are soft and half-lidded. He's fighting to keep them open, but he has to look at Dean.
"I believe it's because I've never been quite this horny, Dean." And then after a moment of silence and a look of confusion, "that is the word for extreme arousal, correct?"
Dean curses, too, then, and crawls up the bed to kiss him again, "you are one hell of an angel."
Castiel merely smirks, "you aren't doing very well with restraining yourself from kissing me."
Dean smiles back, "yeah, well, I've never heard you with a dirty mouth before either."
Cas huffs out a breath that suffices for a laugh,"are you done teasing me?"
Dean bites his bottom lip to try stop his smile, "you aren't begging yet. Of course not."
Cas groans in both impatience and gratitude as Dean goes back down to his legs. Dean licks at where his hip turns into his thigh and Cas makes a noise that actually makes Dean giggle.
The hunter traces his index finger along the underside of Cas's dick, light as a feather: something he knows is sensational. Cas digs his nails into the bedding.
Dean figures maybe he should get this thing moving just a little faster, so he grabs the bottle of lube from his bag and rushes back over to Cas, eyes dark.
Cas bites his lip and stares at Dean's fingers as he coats three of them, moving them and twisting them around in a way that makes Cas's stomach curl with want.
"Dean-"
"Shh, it's alright."
Cas starts again, "No, I just-" Dean looks at him, "I want- I don't know how to say this-" Cas looks frustrated with himself, and settles on not using any more words.
He sits up, makes his way to the end of the bed where Dean stands, and gives him a small nudge, willing him to step back just a bit.
Castiel falls to his knees in front of Dean, gets his boxers pulled down to his ankles, and Dean understands.
"Can I? Please, Dean, I just. Please."
Dean sucks in a slow breath and closes his eyes. He's not supposed to give in like this.
It's supposed to be about pulling Cas apart. He's supposed to just be here, just take care of Cas. Not- not allow Cas to let off this steam. Not give Cas an outlet for all the sexual energy coursing through his veins. That's for later.
But it's much easier in theory, really. It's much easier to just say that you'll deny yourself this pleasure than it is to tell these pretty blue eyes "no".
He ends up saying it, a crack in his voice, "Yeah, Cas. Go ahead," He holds Cas's jaw in his hand softly, just a reminder he's there. He keeps the fingers covered in lube away from Cas's hair; figures he wouldn't like that very much.
Cas is gentle and slow, sucking softly on just the head for a while, making Dean's stomach tense. Then he works his way down, taking in as much as he can (most of him. Which always leaves Dean a little short of breath).
Dean is struggling to comprehend how he even came to be with someone like Castiel. Someone so sweet and careful and understanding and giving. Castiel has always put Dean before himself. Always made sure Dean was okay; whether it was emotionally or physically or sexually. Always. And he knows-he never lets himself forget- that he does not deserve Castiel. He never will. But that doesn't stop him from waking up every morning and loving Cas as much as someone possibly could.
And so he lets himself enjoy this, because Cas wants this, and he knows that. He knows Cas can't stand to just lay there and take everything: he will always feel the need to reciprocate. Even when Dean assures him that he doesn't have to, he will.
So Dean just muffles soft groans, gives little praises like "so good, Cas." and "god, you're incredible" because he just is. He never takes his hand away from Cas's jaw.
Cas finally stops for a minute, takes a deep breath and looks up at Dean through his eyelashes.
"Um-" Cas starts, but Dean cuts him off with a sweet,
"Stand up, Cas."
He listens. And Dean proceeds to kiss him, hard, and Cas's eyebrows scrunch up in concentration, but Dean is already separating them, giving Cas a hard shove back onto the bed.
"My turn."
And Castiel swears if he doesn't practically combust, because Dean wears this fucking smirk. This smirk that makes Dean look like Dean Winchester in every sense. It highlights his dumb eyes and his dumb cheekbones and his dumb lips and every dumb little thing about him. He looks so filthy and so innocent at the same time and Castiel isn't one to promote unnecessary violence, but if he was, he would want to smack that smirk off his face.
"Just do something," Cas growls, laying back and shamelessly spreading his legs.
And of course, Dean takes the opportunity to tease him, "little eager there, angel?"
Castiel glares at him, unfazed, and says, "shut up and put your fingers in me, Dean."
Dean's smirk fades.
And Cas would actually give every last bit of anything to see Dean's eyes darken that fast again.
"I like it much better when you're the bossy one, Cas." Dean says, a little softer now, getting up closer to Cas.
"Mmm," Cas hums, rather disinterested. He is much more inclined to have a few of Dean's pretty fingers in him than discuss dominance roles.
Dean does actually conform to Cas's wishes, after a second or two of dragging the silence out.
But it's worth the wait. His first finger sinks in, and it's all Cas.
Yes, it's Dean in the sense that he's absolutely incredible at this- but it's all Cas. Cas's back arches and his lips part ever so slightly before he practically melts into the bed. He's so high off the feeling; sedated by the everything and he can barely think. All he can possibly form thoughts about is Dean and Dean's fingers and Dean's soft little noises and fuck, Cas wants him.
"Dean. Shit-"
Dean groans a bit at that, coaxes his finger just so that Cas writhes in the slightest. And really, Cas is over reacting. It's just one damn finger; one which he's no stranger to.
And then Cas is starting the, "Dean- more. Please, more."
And Dean can't exactly say no. He cannot stand here and pretend like his abdomen is not on fire from Cas being like this. That he isn't sinfully hard because of all this. So he slides in another one of his fingers, watches Cas relax even more.
"Driving me fucking crazy, Cas," Dean shakes his head, "seriously having trouble keeping it together."
Cas smiles as much as he can, which isn't that much, considering the arousal coursing through him.
"Good, I guess," Cas says softly. He pushes his hips back towards Dean. Dean shakes his head and does his best to push a little further into him with his fingers.
"Really good," Dean replies. "you're incredible, love."
And Cas knows how sincere he's being, because he doesn't use that name for Cas very often. It's very un-Dean, that word. He normally rejects using the word 'love' in any situation possible; he resorts to calling Castiel 'Cas' or 'angel' or even 'babe' instead.
Dean bites his bottom lip and gives him this smile, then. And Cas thinks this smile could set his entire world straight, maybe. It's not like the smirk. It's not filthy and sexual and wanting. It's sweet and sure and everything that this moment is and more. It's all the things Dean would never say, but wants to, in this stupid little grin. Dean has a variety of grins that Cas really likes.
Cas huffs out a little laugh, rolls his hips back because this feeling is so much but it's still not enough, and says what he knows Dean wants to.
"This is everything, Dean."
It's vague, but Dean gets it.
"Yeah," and then he leans forward and kisses Cas really quick, and then just like it never happened, "okay. Time for sex, now."
Cas chuckles, but it fades into a short groan when Dean gives a sharp turn of his wrist. And oh, Cas may have forgotten just how good Dean was able to make this.
Castiel hasn't exactly been with many humans, but he's sure that this is atypical as far as fingering abilities go. Dean is simply experienced and skilled. And hell, does it show.
The room is notably warmer, with all of the breath and hot skin and phermones flooding the air. And so Cas is falling into that deep, deep place of euphoria now. Slowly, but inevitably.
Dean starts to nudge in his third finger when Cas lets out a little grunt. Dean freezes, and Cas is reminded of how gentle he actually is.
"No- it's. I'm good." Cas rushes out.
Dean nods and proceeds, a little slower than before.
"Dean- please."
Dean laughs, "sorry. Sorry, Angel," and resorts back to his usual rhythm.
"Dean," Cas shuts his eyes tight and huffs out a breath, "Dean I'm going to need something else really soon. Like. Just. More-- please."
Dean shakes his head, "give it just a minute, babe."
Cas whimpers and sighs again, "no, please. Please can you just-- just now"
"Hush, Cas." Dean says, and it's the opposite of harsh. It's so gentle Cas wants to smile, except he wants this process to hurry up a little so he's just frustrated.
At least, Castiel would be frustrated if it weren't for the fingers inside him. It's hard for him to feel anything negative with this whole experience.
"You gonna be able to wait, hm?" Dean says, eyes flitting up to meet Cas's, "like. To come? Can you wait?" He twists his hand a bit and Cas turns to push his face into the pillow.
"Yeah. Yeah I'm- I can do it."
Dean nods, "so good, Cas. You're-- you're ready?"
Cas actually chuckles, "been more than ready for quite some time, Dean."
Dean smirks and kisses his hip as he draws his fingers out, trying to take away some of the uncomfortable-ness of it.
This is the part Dean likes. He kneels between Cas's legs and lets Cas watch him. He slicks some of the lube over himself, enjoys the feeling, and lets himself react. His eyes close and his stomach tightens a bit, and he can hear Cas make a little noise at him.
"Dean. If I wanted to watch you get yourself off, I would have asked for that, wouldn't I?"
Dean smiles but continues, until he can feel Cas squirming on the bed and he himself can't hold off any longer.
He opens his eyes and looks Cas up and down, "can you- um. Can you say it again? What you want? I just- I think it's really hot, sorry." The blush on Dean's face is visible even in the dim hotel lighting.
Cas smirks, knowing he's got Dean wrapped around his finger. His back arching a little in impatience, he says, "can you please fuck me, Dean?"
Dean shakes his head, disbelieving, "god, I'm lucky."
And so he obliges this time, lines himself up and presses just gently against Cas's opening.
Cas's eyes squeeze shut again, waiting. And nothing happens.
"Dean, damnit- please."
And yeah, no, Dean is just fine with Cas talking like this. And also he thinks it's a little unfair to leave Cas waiting this long.
He pushes in gently, and it's so much better than most times. Infinitely better.
Cas breathes in sharp and lets out a little, "Oh." Dean lets his head fall forward and he tries to muffle the moan that falls from his lips.
Cas's head falls back hard against the pillows, exposing his entire neck. Dean takes this opportunity to lean down and nip at it.
"Dean, oh," he sucks in another breath as Dean rolls his hips flush against him, "oh my god."
Dean chuckles against his neck, nips again, "This is so good, Cas."
His voice is the roughest it's been all night, and that alone is enough to make Cas want to come.
But Cas just makes some sort of noise that is synonymous with agreement, and nudges up into the light pressure of Dean's lips.
"Dean, you can move. Like, please, do something."
Dean kisses his neck and does exactly what Cas asks. He tries for slow, deep movements. Not so slow that it's teasing; there's been enough teasing tonight. Just slow enough so Cas can actually still breathe normally. He preoccupies his lips with Cas's jaw, neck, and face. And then he pulls away for a second to find Cas smiling.
It's not a normal smile, it's more like he's drugged. Like he's slipping in and out of consciousness and enjoying every second of it. His eyes are closed and his lips are parted and Dean swears he hasn't seen anything more beautiful.
"Gorgeous, Cas." Is what he says, and the corner of Cas's lips turns further upward.
"You're too good at this," is how Cas replies, eyes still closed.
Dean chuckles, "trust me, you're so much better than I could ever be."
Cas shakes his head at that, pulls Dean's face down to kiss him.
And then he pulls away and breathes out, "Harder, Dean. Be rough with me."
Dean isn't about to say no to that.
Cas makes an 'mmm' when Dean picks up the speed of his hips, opens his eyes as much as he can and finds Dean watching him. Even with the dim light and his hazy vision, the blush on Dean's cheeks is more than prominent. Cas thinks he may have never actually seen his skin this pink; it's verging on a light red. It's a surreal thing, really, to see the man who keeps all his feelings inside wear this color on his skin. Cas thinks of a bottle of deep red wine, or a rose bud. It's captivating.
In the midst of all the soft moans and obscene creaks of the bed and skin on skin, there's a sort of still in the air when Cas reaches up to touch the dark pink of Dean's cheek. He swipes his thumb over it, noticing all the freckles.
"You're blushing," Cas says, way deeper and softer than normal, "and it's stunning."
This only makes Dean blush harder, of course, which makes Cas smile bigger.
"Yeah, okay," Dean mumbles, and decides he wants more of Cas moaning and less of Cas showering him with ridiculously sweet compliments. He loves it, of course he does, but he also hates reacting to compliments and wants this to be about Cas.
And so he pulls himself away from Cas a bit so he can get a good hold on his waist, pull Cas's hips up a bit so that he's skimming against just the right spot with each roll of his hips. This breaks Cas pretty nicely.
He feels the heels of Cas's feet dig into the very lowest part of his back, his legs wrapped around Dean completely.
Cas tries to say something, but it gets slurred into a moan when Dean pushes in again. So Dean slows for just a moment to let Cas talk.
"I want-," he starts, and then takes a breath in, unsure of how to put this. He looks right at Dean, eyes filled up with the feeling of everything, "Just- come here," he extends his arms so that Dean comes closer. He winds his fingers through the soft down of Dean's hair and whispers, right against Dean's jaw, "I want to not even know where I am, Dean- not even know what hit me. Hard, please. Make it so that I can't handle it."
Dean groans, try as he might to hold it in, and lets his forehead fall onto Cas's shoulder, "you're being filthy, and I'm trying to pretend like it's not a big deal, but it's really damn hot, Cas."
Cas smirks, knowing what he's doing, "Good."
Dean places a soft kiss on Cas's collarbone that makes Cas sigh, and then an open-mouthed one that makes Cas whimper. Dean really likes this new reaction.
Against his will, Dean takes his mouth away. He presses his forehead to Cas's cheek and starts doing as Cas asked; the pace of his hips quickens significantly, and Cas says "thank you" that comes out as mostly a groan.
Dean hums, and murmurs an 'I love you', and that's the rest of the meaningful words that'll be said during this. It becomes a combination of deep moans and soft groans and sharp inhalations and quick hisses and huffs of breath and quiet whimpers and the low draw of the hotel bed and the headboard hitting the wall ever-so-lightly and the small, barely there sighs of 'Cas' and 'Dean' and maybe a few 'Oh's and 'Fuck's and then, of course, Cas's small little pleas of 'more' that Dean doesnt even know how to respond to, and the storm that starts somewhere outside this hotel room, where the thunder rings through the sky, somewhere that seems to not even exist to Dean or Castiel, because this room and this moment is all that could possibly matter; it's just them. It's just them and that is everything.
Cas looks so ungodly high, so completely and totally blissed and it's so good to see. Dean couldn't imagine something better. Cas is himself in every sense: there are no stresses or angelic duties or worries or guilts or confusions. He's just in total euphoria, and so he's just Cas. His eyes are less harsh. They're soft around the edges- a pale blue flower that is breathing its last breaths before winter. His skin is pale and smooth and flawless, as it usually is. His lips are a fresh-bitten pink, as are his cheeks and his neck. And god, does he feel good. Being inside Cas is a feeling that everyone in the world would be envious of. Dean feels like he is experiencing Heaven on Earth. And he could smile when he realizes he sort of is.
But Cas isnt the only beautiful thing. Castiel's mind is overwhelmed, barely able to think anything because there's this feeling coursing through him that renders him incapable of hardly anything but physical sensation. But hell, he still notices Dean. His eyes are deep, deep, sweet, sparkling pools of Jade. His pupils are incredibly wide, making him look so much more beautiful. His tan skin looks like painted gold; Cas could trace constellations in his freckles. His cheeks stay a pale rose, and his lips a rich peony. Dean looks like the obsession of a famous painter; he is that beautiful. His hair hangs down in his face, loose of product, and Cas adores it. Castiel wishes Dean would look like this all the time, he's so stunning.
The eye contact is what pushes Cas over the brim. Dean's eyes lock on his, Dean draws his bottom lip under his upper, and Cas feels like his mind goes blank.
He finds himself grasping desperately at Dean's hair, and coming without a hand. It's slow and sweet in the very deepest part of his core, and he can feel it for several moments before it hits him. When it does, it's with his head pushing back into the pillow and a broken sound from his throat. His hands ball into Dean's hair, and his teeth grind together. His thoughts turn to nothing and his vision goes black, to where he can see nothing but a bit of light in the middle, and his entire body feels nothing but a overwhelming goodness and a lightness he has never experienced, in all the orgasms he's had. He feels endless.
Dean watches Cas, and with that, he's gone. His fingernails dig into Cas's shoulder and side, and his head drops heavily onto Cas's chest. A small, faint, "fuck" slips from his mouth, and the same good that overtook Cas floods him. He smiles, and lets the orgasm settle into every vein. He feels weightless. No guilt, no hate, no sadness, no grief, no responsibility, no decisions: no weight.
"God, I love you." Dean mutters.
"So good," is all Cas gets out, in a heavy breath. His breaths are labored, and his smile has spread across his face.
"Mm," Dean agrees, "so, so nice."
Their breaths calm, gradually, and Dean kisses him hard as he pulls out, willing away the uncomfortable-ness as much as he can.
"Can we- like- washcloths? Dean?" Cas asks, already sounding unbearably dragged down with fatigue. Dean laughs and nods, heavy, finding that every movement is strenuous.
Dean shuffles to the bathroom and gets a few washcloths, gets then damp with hot water, and shuffles back in.
"Your ass looks nice," Cas says, and Dean makes a 'what the hell' face at him.
"Thanks, I guess. Your everything looks pretty damn good."
Cas laughs, lets Dean wipe him down with the cloths. And then, when they're both a bit cleaner, Cas pulls him in for a hard kiss. Dean loves this: Cas gets so ungodly needy for cuddling after sex.
"Hang on, let me just- Cas-" Cas kisses him again and again, until Dean pulls away. "Let me grab the deodorant and put these washcloths back in the bathroom, you dork."
Dean does just that, headed back with the deodorant for Cas, "Now we won't be smelly," and then tosses it on the floor somewhere once he's done.
"Don't really care if you're smelly, Dean, I just want to kiss you."
"I know, hang on," Dean walks over and turns the lamp off, and to that Cas says, "ass still looks nice."
Dean smacks him lightly on the arm, and tugs the blanket over top of himself.
They tangle themselves up so that their skin is touching in as many places as possible, and thank god the hotel rooms are cool because otherwise they'd be dying of heat. But they're just comfortable, just wallowing in each other's presence, kissing sweetly. Dean traces patterns into Cas's hip with his fingernail, mostly stars, because Cas loves it so much. And then the tidal feeling of sleep folds over them, and they fall into a comfort beyond words.
They'll wake up and they'll still feel endless. And it won't always be like this, but it is now.