heavenonearth | angels with crushes are always problematic

angels with crushes are always problematic

[ continued from this nonsense. ]

[ castiel's brow furrows, and for a moment he's too busy trying to decide whether or not to be insulted by that to even bother with being flustered, but then dean's presenting a question he feels has an obvious answer. ]

It's been working out fine.

[ and it's not as if castiel really knows any better. this isn't exactly his area of expertise, and whatever tangled feelings he has for dean - they're not appropriate, and they're not necessary. if he's learned anything about humans, it's that love complicates things, makes everything more difficult, and dean is.. well, not something or someone that castiel is willing to risk, over something so silly as a crush, if that's what this is. what they have now? it's good. it's fine. ]

I don't see why it should change.

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[he has a brief moment where he wonders about an angel's stamina, angel boners in general, blast radius. Cas would warn him if was getting a gun shot to the head, that was he was sure of. But he might not even think to mention instant re-erection, or incredible duration that turns a blowjob into a marathon. But it seems a little late to ask that sort of thing now. And it adds a twist of curiosity to the whole thing that only encourages him to find out.

One hand settles on Cas's hips to still them, and his thumb rolls against the juncture between leg and torso in an attempt to settle him. He can feel the way the muscles in his thighs are tensed, can see it in the rise and fall of his chest that seems to get a little sporadic as he works him over.

He'd smile at the aborted sentence if he had the ability to, but for now he'll let his mind fill it in. He continues to move, and will never admit that he might be humming the chorus to the tune of a certain Air Supply song as he does so. But soon enough his other hand is sliding up to massage Cas' balls and the base of his cock and whatever other bit of length that Dean can't quite fit into his mouth without reaching the danger zone of his gag reflex.

Whatever it takes, he wants to see Cas fall apart around him, wants to watch him arch in pleasure, and cry out in orgasm. He just wants to make him feel good, to confirm that his desire for him, that it's warranted.]

[ to be perfectly honest, it won't take very much. castiel is sensitive and eager, restless as a kid in a candy store; he wants to try everything, taste everything, experience everything. he's reactive, easily roused, hyperaware of his vessel in ways he's never experienced, never bothered to pay any mind to.

dean's hand against his hip is likely a good restriction, because it's difficult to resist the urge to buck up, to yank dean's head down, and it's times like these that he's thankful for the little rift between grace and vessel, the split-second he's afforded while he's processing sensory input and deciding whether or not to give into the immediate impulse of this body. dean, he's sure, wouldn't appreciate being choked. but the gentle draw of dean's thumb against his skin helps, too, and castiel falls still, as still as he can manage, at least, with dean's mouth all around his cock, sucking and pulling around him, driving him out of his mind.

he doesn't bother to try to speak again, there's no point, nothing he can say with words that he can't say with his body, all the tension in his belly and the way his thighs strain, the way his breath hitches fast and hard, his hand in dean's hair tight, fingernails biting sharply. castiel groans low and deep, his left calf sliding flush to dean's side and up until he's got his leg hooked over dean's bare shoulder, skin on skin, and the added squeeze of his fingers and palm is just what he hadn't known he needed.

it would be an easy thing to extend his stamina, to dampen the sensations he's feeling in order to draw this out, but for now he isn't bothering, he's riding the natural high that his vessel has to offer, moaning soft and arching tight as the pleasure climbs, quick and sure, an irresistible heat beginning to pool in his belly. ]

[He'd be happy to be Cas's sexual sherpa, but that would be more than a one-time sort of situation, and that's a talk they haven't had yet. That he's not going to dwell on until this one is over. It's so much easier to think in the moment. He's good at thinking about point A to B, even better when he can drive on instinct alone. And he's settled on that at the moment. There's no plan here beyond making this good, in getting to explore this body, in showing Cas his own devotion in ways he's not scared of showing. Something about the physicality of it all makes it easier for him to show just how much he cares, makes it easier to put the mask down for a moment, to push all that negativity to the side.

Hell, he'd drop his hands down to his sides and let Cas fuck his throat if he expressed enough interest in the idea. His gag reflex is still functional, but he's got no problem choking on Cas if the guy can even find an inkling of pleasure in the act. But at the moment, he's not sure the act wouldn't have Cas coming to a halt to make sure he was okay. And he doesn't want to break this. He's enjoying this moment, the view he's got of rippling muscles and breaths and even the shift of that throat stretched out. It's not Cas' body, but that doesn't stop him from being attracted to it, but those reactions? Those are his, makes them all that much more important to catch.

The scramble for more skin contact with the way that leg settles easily over his shoulder, heel pressing firmly into his back. That's all Cas. The hand rough in his hair. The groan that echoes in the room. It's all so heavy with the impression of his angel.

His hand squeezes Cas's hip in encouragement, signs of impending orgasm all human enough that he thinks he's reading it right, and then he lets go of those hips, lets his hand rake down the inside of the inside of that exposed leg, from knee to the curve of an ass cheek and back again as he tries to lure Cas closer to that edge.]

[ dean doesn't let up. there's no pause to recover, no brief respite for him to catch his breath or ease the pleasure, and castiel thinks to clamp down on it, to close his mind to the sensation so he doesn't finish, so that they can keep going, so that they can try something else, everything else, but in the end he doesn't bother. chances are, this is just the way that dean prefers it, unadulterated, unaltered, pure and human and simple, and in this way he's relinquishing control to dean, allowing dean to pull him as he chooses, to decide how much pleasure he gets and when. he'll do this the human way, because if he doesn't, what's the point? sex is a human instinct, a human privilege, so if he doesn't experience this like they do, he's doing both himself, and dean, a disservice.

so castiel lets go. he shuts out all other thought beyond the necessary feeling of dean's mouth and how good it feels, how it makes his belly twist in a way that's savage and exquisite both, the heat building so quickly and suddenly that he can't hope to handle it, and it runs out of control like sand through his fingers, impossible to hold. closer and closer he rides, and castiel doesn't bother to disguise his reactions, the way his body twists and his breath comes faster and faster, ribs straining beneath muscle and sinew and smooth, flushed skin, his heel digging hard into dean's spine like a spike pinning him down.

when dean's blunt fingernails rake hard down the thin skin of his thigh, castiel can't help the sound he makes, guttural and rough as sandpaper, nerve endings singing, his fingernails hooking brutally in dean's scalp. he's close, so close, he knows it, recognizes it for what it is. ]

Dean I'm - I'm gonna - Dean --

[ it's about all the warning dean will get; it he doesn't move away, castiel can't hold back, he's fit to burst, doesn't want to hold back. he's coming either way, into dean's mouth, or against his chin and neck, his fingers, whatever's there, and it's intense but it's thankfully very human. that doesn't stop him, however, from bucking hard, spine bending and body snapping tense as a string, a low, satisfied groan twisting deep in his throat. ]

[It's easy to forget about his own erection with the tunnel like focus he has on Cas and his, but it's there, a constant pressure against his blue jeans. There's a dull pulsing that flares with a twist in his gut when Cas arches or when a gravelly noise falls from his mouth, but it's been simple enough to ignore. After all his mind is busy and his mouth is full and his hands are touching and rolling and scratching. There's not much attention to give them. Just like he can't give those touches the attention they need, the fingers that have likely made several crescent shaped indents on his scalp or the ache that it leaves behind, but the unconscious still reacts to it. His heart beats a little faster, his own breathing comes in heavy puffs out of his nose, and adrenaline buzzes through his body. But its the way that heel digs into his spine, it aches in a way he can't entirely ignore, puts a pressure on him that instinctively makes him want to buck against it just to prove he can get away if he needs to-and its the conscious effort to not pull away, to let Cas pin him in his pleasure that makes his dick jerk hard enough that he can't fully ignore it. Has his eyes momentarily fluttering shut and moaning.

The warning makes it through the heart beat he can hear echoing in his ears, and his eyes shoot open to drink in the sight, and he latches on tight to Cas's cock until he feels it pulse, until the first splash of cum hits his tongue, and then he lets him go, prefers to watch the way his whole body arches up, cock bobbing with the action in a way that has him transfixed.

And its not until his back settles back against the bed that he leans down and takes him into his mouth again, cleans what's dribbled down his head and balls before sucking him into his mouth just to get that last taste. There's some still lingering on his fingers that are a gentle cradle on his balls now, and he can feel it trickle down the his cheeks, but his attention isn't on anything other than Cas and the occasional twitch of his cock that he can't block out anymore.

He pulls back satisfied and grins up at Cas.] This is one of those occasionally awesome times, right?

[ it rips over him like an ocean wave, hot pleasure drowning him, filling him, and for a sweet, fleeting moment there's nothing but this feeling, warm bliss drowning out everything, every thought, every worry and concern. he can understand it, why dean medicated himself with this, why he chases it so hard, because in this moment nothing can hurt you, in this moment you are not even yourself, there is only heat, and satisfaction, and peace.

but it passes too quickly, and castiel soon settles back against the rumpled covers, his skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat. he feels used up, scoured clean, filthy in the best sort of way, and when dean leans in to suck his cock clean it's almost too much, too sensitive, and he jerks with warm, rolling aftershocks that leap like arcs of electricity over his body and straight to his cock. he can't complain.

the cotton soon clears from his mind, however, and castiel feels the cool touch of guilt sinking into his belly like a stone. he'd had such grand plans, you know, of giving dean everything, touching him and kissing him and bringing him pleasure but he'd gotten tangled up so easily, spent himself without even getting a hand in dean's pants. it's nothing a little grace couldn't fix, but - that's hardly the point.

with great effort, castiel heaves himself up to his elbows, his breathing still labored, but slowing, and the hand in dean's hair drops to his nape, pulling gently, though when he speaks his voice is low and dark with command. ]

Come here.

[Oh. Well. That's hot. Cas, breathless and sweating and spent, but there's still so much power and authority in that order, and his dick jumps at it, eager to obey even if Dean's slower to move. He moves his hands away from Cas, brings his hand up to his mouth to lick off the cum that's dribbled there before bringing it up to brush at his cheek, not to clean so much as to brush at the tickle there.

And then. Then he's moving off his knees and climbing up the bed and Cas's legs until he's on all fours above Cas.]

Here. [He answers smartly with a smirk, definitely curious what to see what Cas has got planned here.]

[ to be honest, for once, castiel has no plan, and that's a little bit terrifying, but he trusts dean, he wants this, and they'll figure it out. right now, all castiel wants is to dig into him, to find a way to give something back. but first, he's tugging dean down to kiss his mouth, and for all their kisses earlier had been chaste, then deeper, but slow and warm and learning, this one is hard, slow in a way that's hot like molten stone. confident and easy. he can taste the flavor of his cock and come on dean's tongue, and it's thrilling for how new it is, and all the implication that comes with it. when he pulls back, castiel's thumb glides beside dean's mouth, swiping the stray bead of come there before pressing it into dean's mouth, the pad of his thumb gliding smooth against dean's tongue, his blue eyes rapt and watchful with a quiet, curious hunger.

this isn't what he wants, though. even on his back, with dean's weight above him, castiel easily has enough strength to buck him off, to flip him over onto his back and climb astride him, his oxford shirt still clinging to his elbows and trailing loose, ignored, forgotten. ]

I want to make you feel good, Dean.

[ he says openly, eyes slanted down to dean's face while his hands work quickly, unfastening dean's belt and unbuttoning his jeans, pulling down the fly and curling both hands around the waistband of his jeans and underpants both and jerking hard, releasing his dick. clearly, castiel doesn't intend to be patient, not this time, not while he's so ready to learn, eager to give back. his eyes trail shamelessly down dean's body, to the hard, flushed length of his cock and back up again before he's wasting no time getting a hand on him, feeling him, palming the warm underside and thumbing the wet tip of his cockhead. it's too soon for castiel to be aroused again without the intervention of his grace, but he's flushed anyway, his breath quick and his eyes bright for how much he wants to do this, how excited, and ready he is. ]

Tell me what feels good.

[Now that's the kind of kiss that makes his brain short-circuit and his thoughts stop, the kind he can lean into while everything around him fades to background noise, where nothing more exists than the hand on the back of his head and the lips against his own and the tongue that's stealing every flavor from his mouth. And it's seriously not fair how quickly Cas has picked up those skills. He's fairly sure he sucked for months when he first started kissing. Movies and campy television shows were terrible inspiration for what worked as an actual kiss. But it's his turn to go a little slack-jawed when Cas pulls back, dazed enough that he doesn't flinch when Cas is wiping at the side of his mouth and then feeding him his come.

And he lets out a shaky breath as that finger rolls against his tongue, the brush of his finger making it tingle in a way he doesn't even know how to itch. And then it's gone too soon, and he only gets a light kiss at the digit before it's gone. That look though, that dark cool look in blue eyes, it lingers in his mind's eye even when it's gone, has his heart beating hard in his chest.

He's already feeling a little ungrounded under Cas's intense attention, that he's not even surprised when he winds up on his back, the disorientation playing into the lightheadedness he feels at the moment. And he makes an appreciative noise when Cas announces his vague plans. That sounds good enough to him.

His breath hitches when his pants are pulled down with an impatient force and his cock hits the air for the first time that night, and suddenly it's hard to ignore just how eagerly hard it is, and it already has his breathing a little shallow.

And he physically jerks with that first touch, scalding and intense, after being so pointedly ignored.]

Uuuh. [He swallows thickly and works a suddenly dry mouth to answer.] Well, that-this feels pretty good.

[And even if he could form a full sexy scenario, he wouldn't share it. Not right now, not when he wouldn't know if what he asked Cas to do would be something he'd actually be interested in or just an attempt to return a favor that-honestly, he doesn't have to return. Dean enjoyed every second he had Cas under him.]

[ it's a shame that castiel isn't reading dean's mind, because there's nothing he wouldn't give to dean, nothing he wouldn't be interested in, and sure, he'd be returning the favor alongside it, but isn't that what this is all about? give, and take. that's how sex works, isn't it? that's how relationships work. castiel has sacrificed for these boys again and again, will continue to sacrifice for them always, knows they will try their best to do the same. give and take. he'd see no reason why that shouldn't apply here, as well.

but he can work with dean. try to read him as best he can, try to make him feel good even if he doesn't know how, or where to begin beyond touching him like this, or using his mouth like dean had done before.

it's good, though, to see dean like this, and he supposes it's good that he's already spent because his attention is focused solely on dean now, he isn't distracted by his own vessel, its wants and needs. and it would be a lie to say that he wasn't nervous, that he's sorely afraid of messing this up, of not knowing what to do - getting dean's clothes off, that's the easy, simple part, all the rest is dark, unexplored waters. but he trusts dean. he trusts this, their connection, and how clear it is that, at least in this moment, dean wants him just as badly as castiel had wanted dean in return.

so he can do this. or at least, he will try, and if he messes up, dean will tell him how to be better. so for now he keeps his hand working, teeth biting into his lower lip while his fingers close warm around dean's cock, pulling in slow, easy, deep strokes. this much he remembers, at least. this much is simple. and since he's not using his free hand, he drops that one to dean's cock, too, making a cage of his fingers to squeeze him with, watching dean through hooded eyes and dark lashes for any response, any indication that this is right, and okay. ]

I've never done this before. [ he admits, while his thumbs circle the ridge of dean's cockhead, tracing it, teasing. ]

[Sex works on a serious level of consent. And he knows, he knows he could utter just about anything and Cas would eagerly try it. Because there's nothing Cas wouldn't do for him. This wouldn't be any different. And as charming as that is, and comforting, sometimes its a power that he knows he takes advantage of, but this is different. It's not to save someone, it's not to stop some big bad asshole, it's just for his pleasure. And that makes all the difference when asking and taking. He's not good at doing it.

Even now, it's a little unnerving to have all of Cas's rather intense attention focused entirely on him, on making him feel good, and it strips his bare in a way that has nothing to do with the lack of clothes.

His breaths feel like they come out in built-up gusts, constantly sucking in breaths and gasping in conflict with normal breathing that keeps him from every really gaining air. But it's hard to focus on asinine things like breathing when he's got Cas so focused on his cock. It should be simple. It's a hand and a cock, and he can't count how many times a week he does that. But it's not that simple The knot deep in his gut has nothing to do with friction and everything with to do with the angel attached to that hand.

He takes the effort to kick his pants off entirely because it hinders the way he wants to bend his knee, or the way he wants to dig his heels into the mattress when Cas is suddenly two handing him, grip suffocating in a strangely pleasurable way.

And his fingers twitch at his side restlessly before they're moving, before they're reaching for arms or shoulders to touch, or the back of Cas's head so he can at least pull him down and kiss him, so he can give a little bit back.]

It's good. [He's quick to confirm, and his tongue flicks out against his lip as he debates adding something else, as the urge to ask for something more bubbles up inside him. But the words don't come.]

[ dean reacts well beneath him, his breath hitching and his body responding, and when dean's hands climb up him to move over his skin and pull him down close castiel is happy to oblige, because for all the things he has tried, kissing is his favorite. and maybe it's just kissing dean, but it feels so good in a way that's got nothing to do with sex, a way that's warm and wet and soft, close and intimate. it's the connection that runs between them like an electric current, that he feels when dean's mouth is against his own, feels like he feels his own grace roiling inside of him, like he can feel the heat and vibrancy of dean's soul.

so it's good, this kissing, and he likes the way dean's cock feels in his hands, the weight of it, the irresistible heat, how smooth and silky the skin feels. he likes how he can feel dean's need every time it twitches, likes that it's making dean feel good, even if it might not be as good as dean's mouth was on him, even if he might be clumsy and new. that much, he hopes, he can make up for with his eagerness, and how willing he is to learn.

but something doesn't feel right, there's a distance that shouldn't be there, like a piece of the puzzle isn't fitting in right, and castiel worries that he's doing something wrong. dean's been with so many people, done so many things, castiel's uncertain fumbling must be frustrating. ]

Do you want my mouth? [ he asks, breathing the words against dean's mouth, both hands tightening around the root of dean's cock, fingers laced as he pulls easy to the tip, then down again. he's already kissing a path along his jaw even as the words finish, mimicking the way dean had done it to him before, breathing hot against his throat and closing his mouth over his rapid pulse. ] Please, Dean, let me make you feel good. I want to. I need to.

[There's nothing frustrating about the way Cas moves his hands, explores his cock, even if there's a flicker of a moment where it's not the smoothest thing. It could be the worst damn handjob in the world and Dean would still find the whole thing hot. Because there's so much effort and concentration and he knows how much Cas is trying to please him. The fact that it's good only adds more to it, and his hips roll into that tight enclosure he's made with his hands.

And he eagerly takes Cas's mouth. Loves how sweet the man is. How hungry he is. How right it feels to be intimate like this with him. And he has to stop himself from whining when Cas breaks it to talk.

And that question, god, it has his hips stuttering as his arousal spikes. It's not even a matter of liking the idea, it's just hearing Cas talk like that.

There's something about those particular words that makes something click into place and has his eyes widening slightly. Maybe he's been looking at this all wrong. Like asking for anything would be taking advantage of Cas's very nature. But Cas is a big boy-sometimes- and maybe it's all just some service kink. Makes sense. Angel and all that. And, it's enough to cling to at the moment, because he does want more.]

I wanna feel you around me, Cas. I wanna be inside you. [The words come out rushed, like if he doesn't say them right this second he might not be able to. And he jerks his eyes to Cas's, looking for any sign of apprehension at the idea.]

[ the quick stutter of dean's hips brings with it a pulse of satisfaction, and a push in the right direction, and castiel is fully prepared to kiss a hot trail down his throat and body, so sure that must be what he wants before dean's answering. castiel doesn't miss the rush of words, how dean pushes them out so fast like he's trying to get rid of a bad taste, like he's worried about saying them, and not for the first time, nor the last, castiel simply doesn't understand.

when dean's eyes move quick as lightning to find his, he can only assume that somehow dean thinks he's asking for too much, for something that castiel wouldn't be willing to give, but of course, that's absurd. there's no apprehension to be found in castiel's eyes, only a quiet, muted relief. this is what he'd worried about? been hesitant to ask for? castiel hardly has the social know-how to understand how this could be any more to ask for than his hands or mouth, how dean could ever be worried to ask him for anything at all.

service kink, maybe - that's not exactly a concept that he's familiar with, but it pleases him to please dean, that's for certain. it's in his nature. it's what he's programmed to do. and let's not discount his natural curiosity, either, how willing he is to learn for himself as much as for dean. but he doesn't know what he's doing. ]

Tell me what I need to do.

[ he says, and even though he needs the guidance, there's still no less authority in his lowered voice, or the way his eyes meet dean's fearlessly, steady as the sea. his hands loosen from around dean's cock to find his wrists instead, to wind their fingers together, thumbs pressing into dean's palms, holding them to the blankets. ]

[There's nothing hesitant in Cas's gaze or the way he reacts and he lets out a relieved breath, even gives him a slightly sheepish smile for putting so much concern where there obviously was none. Next time he has sex with a nearly-virgin angel, he's gonna remember to ask more questions first.

And it's easy to let Cas pin his hands to the bed, squeezes his own fingers around Cas'. Hand holding hasn't really ever done much for him. It's a way not to lose someone. It's a way to guide someone. Hell, sometimes it's a way to comfort someone, to immobilize them from doing something stupid, but this is none of the above, and he likes it. He's starting to think he likes anything that has to do with Cas' hands. They're so much softer than his own, but no less strong. Maybe that's the bottom line. For all the inexperience and curiosity and eagerness, Cas is so capable, so dependable, so strong. It's Dean that calls for his help more often than the opposite. So maybe. Maybe Cas can survive the curse that seems to settle on anyone that gets close to them. ...Even if he's died a couple times now.

He turns his head toward the night stand, thinks that's the last place he threw the lube. And since Cas doesn't seem to be letting him go anytime soon.]

Well, we're gonna need lube.

[ lubricant. right.

it would be a simple thing to conjure oil with his grace, easy and instant and he wouldn't even need to move. for a moment he thinks to do just that, and his hands flatten over dean's, his grace bunching inside of him, the air heady with that electric ozone scent of angel - but dean had looked toward the bedside table, and castiel cuts his idea off at the pass. dean gets funny sometimes, when they don't do things the human way, and for as long as they've known one another, as much as he knows dean trusts him (or hopes that he does, after all that's passed between them), doing things cas's way seems to make dean uncomfortable, often enough. castiel thinks it's silly, but he still respects him.

so instead he leans away, toward the nightstand where dean's eyes had flickered, and castiel tugs open the drawer to root through the contents, pushing aside a hunting knife and a paper receipt, finding the tube near the back, behind a box of shotgun shells. sitting back on dean's hips again, he turns the tube over in his hands, surveying it curiously. ]

This? [ he asks, already snapping open the cap, testing the cool gel against his fingers. ]

[His eyes burrow slightly when Cas doesn't make to let him go or move and there's that damn feeling in the air that has hair standing on end and he can't even imagine what the hell Cas is thinking he's doing. Maybe he can self-lubricate, and immediately after he has the thought he can hear Sam's voice lecturing him about the differences between porn and reality. And that's just weird.

But Cas is moving and he's distracted watching him, thinks about warning him about the knife only after he hears it clatter around, and there's not many other people in the world he would feel this entirely relaxed around when they're that damn close to something that could be driven straight through his chest. But all he brings back is the half empty bottle of lube.]

[And he's hard and excited for the idea of being balls deep in Cas, but he still gives Cas his moment to explore the stuff before making an impatient noise.] Yeah. You mind? [And he holds his hand out for it.]

[ sorry dean, but castiel's singular experience with sex has been with a woman, and she hadn't included any sort of outside lubrication with that so this stuff is entirely new to him, slippery and with a strange smell, not unpleasant, but sort of antiseptic sweet. he's snapped from his thoughts by dean's impatience. ]

Of course.

[ turning over the tube in his hand, he presses it into dean's palm and waits, watching expectantly, for him to do whatever he's going to do with it. castiel has no idea, except he's sure that it'll be good, everything dean has done so far has been good, everything about this entire exchange has been good. with his hands free, he slides his palms over dean's taut abdomen, settling a hand back onto his cock even though he's distracted, following dean's hands with his eyes like a dog on a bone. ]

[He's definitely not the kind of guy to buy flavored lube, because that shit is just weird. Who the hell lathers on lube with the plan of eating it? And he likes food as much, if not more, than the next guy, but sex isn't supposed to smell like cherries and vanilla. So he really doesn't think there's anything interesting about it, but he has to admit, watching Cas play with it is actually kind of entertaining-if he wasn't wound tight and aching, he might have taught him a few interesting uses for it. Right now though, he's only focused on one.

He wraps his fingers around it and catches that expectant stare of Cas's, and returns his own when Cas makes...no effort to move at all. And it dawns on him he might not even-

Awesome. He gets to be a sex ed teacher when it's hard to even really think in full sentences.]

I need you to spread- [And he gestures with his open hand at Cas's crotch before he changes his mind on that approach.] I need you to lay down again.

[ sorry, dean. you're the one who wanted to fuck the half-virgin angel. you kinda had it coming.

at the very least, castiel is a good and willing student. his brow furrows for a half moment before he begins to move, regretful already for the loss of warmth, and the good vantage point of power he'd had over dean - but for the moment, at least, he's going to need to obey if he wants to learn more, to give dean whatever it is that he's after. ]

All right.

[ he says, sliding off of dean and onto the rumpled covers again, lying out beside him with one knee comfortably crooked, his right hand still trailing over dean's skin because he doesn't want to lose the contact, the connection. it doesn't really occur to him that teaching someone how to do this might be incredibly unsexy, because for him it isn't, he's hanging on every word, feeling impatient for lack of anything to do, and the still nagging need to give dean all that pleasure that dean had given him. he can't wait to watch his body light up, to hear and feel him react; castiel bites his lower lip, looking sidelong at dean, ready to continue, to hurry forward. ]

What now?

[He shifts up onto an elbow as Cas climbs off of him, and his eyes follow the length of his body appreciatively before he catches those eyes and he smiles at him-and he can feel the nervous twitch at the corner of his lip. And that's new. He can't remember the last time he was nervous about anything, especially in the bedroom.

He shakes his head at himself before pushing himself up and maneuvering himself between Cas' legs. His hands slide down to the inside of his thighs and he guides them far apart until he's spread wide and open and he can see all of Cas. It's got him licking his lips again, and his mouth dry, and there's a tremble in his hands.

And it takes him a second to remember that Cas asked a question.]

Uh. I'm gonna. It's. [And he curses under his breath at his own fumbling words.] I'm gonna stick my fingers up your ass, Cas. And stretch you wide enough that you can take my dick without it hurting.

[There. It's so much easier when he pulls back on old habits.]

[ oh.

well, castiel appreciates the bluntness, for sure. it's not in his nature to dance around an issue, and when he wants to know something, he wants to know it, wants it explained, wants to know what he's doing entirely. castiel might look human, but beneath this skin he's still an angel, and angels are more machine than they are sentient creature, half the time, and machines need to be programmed.

he feels a little silly, though, for not figuring this out on his own, and it's got him flushing in embarrassment, but more than that, excitement. castiel's breath trembles a little, his eyes shining bright when he lifts them to dean's face. ]

Okay. [ he says, nodding sharply, his skin jumping beneath the pass of dean's hands, his ankle sliding, warm and inviting, against the edge of dean's hip. ]

Okay. [He mimics for his own benefit. Hands steadier now that that's all out of the way, with Cas still eager and willing and curious. And he'll make it as good as he can, even if it means ignoring himself for a little bit longer. It'll be worth it. And if he can make Cas come apart for him one more time, doubly so.

He pops the bottle open again and pours a generous amount onto his fingers, slicks them up before he reaches down to casually brush fingers from balls to hole and back up again, and he spends several seconds letting his fingers circle around against his entrance, presses against the tight ring like he's testing it. And he is, making sure Cas is relaxed underneath him.

His free hand slides down to where that ankle is resting against his hip and he lifts it, settles it over his shoulder as he moves in a closer between Cas' legs. It makes it easy to simply turn his head, to be able to kiss and nip at his calf, just a subtle distraction as he pushes the first of his fingers in.]

[ it's an.. interesting sensation. complex and invasive and instant. dean is teasing at a knot of thousands of nerve endings so sensitive that it cuts right through the veil between vessel and angel like a crack of lightning. castiel's breath stutters, an easy warmth flooding his body, muscle tightening beneath skin as he tenses, relaxes, tenses again.

it's good. better than he had expected, given his knowledge of human anatomy, but like most things, castiel has not exactly thought to try it. nevertheless, he isn't complaining. by the time dean's finally sliding a finger into him he's loose and warm all over, flushed and breathing shallowly.

truth be told, dean's being far more gentle than he even needs to be. castiel is an angel, there's nothing dean could do that could really hurt him, and in contrast he likes the roughness, but for once in his life he's remembering to read the atmosphere, knows that there's more to this moment than simple pleasure. there's intimacy here, and a deep undercurrent of trust that passes between them, and if dean wants to take his time and do this the longer, but gentler way, then that's what castiel wants for him. still, when dean's finger slips in, slick and warm, a sound moves low in castiel's throat, cock twitching and belly lurching for the feel of it, the deep invasive slide that sinks into him, warm and easy. ]

[He's well aware that Cas could handle anything he gives him, that he could take any burn or stretch that might happen from sex. No, if nothing else, he knows Cas isn't fragile. How often do they slice at their own body without even a wince anymore? But this isn't about what Cas can handle. It isn't about tolerating. It's that need to have something soft in his life now and then. Oh, he likes his rough sex just fine, it's exciting, it's intoxicating, it overwhelms feelings and thoughts. And he's thought about it, the rough kind of sex he could have with Cas. Bleeding, clawing, biting, wall slamming and furniture breaking kind of sex. And it's always a thrilling thought. It gets him off hard and fast. And honestly. It'd be easier. It'd be so much easier than what he's doing now.

But they both deserve a little tenderness now and then.

So, slow it is, eases in until he's knuckle deep. And he stills, eyes drinking in every subtle reaction from Cas and his lips twitch in a slight smirk at that noise that rumbles in his throat.]

You like that, Cas? [Because suddenly everything is easy again when he's taking charge, when he's the one dealing out the sensations rather than just taking. And he really doesn't care at the moment to think to hard on that fact. He's controlling, go figure. There's nothing deep there.]

Then you're really gonna like what happens next. [He works his finger out just enough to make sure Cas stays relaxed and easy for him, before he slips in a second finger. And that has him groaning at the tight heat that clings around him. He curls his fingers slightly as he slides them in deeper, works them around, searches for Cas' prostate.]

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