heavenonearth | angels with crushes are always problematic

[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.]

[ it's almost maddening, how slowly dean moves, and it would be worse if he were fully aroused, wound tight and wanting, but even still he finds his hips shifting, moving like he's searching for more, waiting for dean to really open up and go. ]

Yes. [ he answers, quiet and breathless. ] It's good.

[ but dean is promising more, and castiel feels his heart squeeze in his breast for the anticipation of it, the idea of more and better. so when dean presses in a second finger beside the first, stretching him further, castiel hums in a way that's content and approving, eyelids dropping low and mouth slack.

that isn't it either, though. and he doesn't understand that until dean's fingers curl, rough pads sliding easy and slick against his prostate, lighting a burst of heat in his belly like an electric bolt straight to his cock. castiel tenses immediately, his heel pressing hard to dean's shoulder, a shudder lancing up his spine, a real, genuine moan tumbling brief and curt from his lips. that's.. that's good, that's better than he'd ever been expecting, but then, dean keeps on surprising him, doesn't he? he should stop expecting anything at all, and just allow all of the sensation to wash over him thoughtlessly. instead his eyes lift to dean's face, surprised and glassy and searching, his exhale tight and quick. ]

[There it is, he can feel the bundle against the pads of his fingers, but as soon as the realization hits him, Cas is already clamping down around him in reaction. And it's all he can do to watch him tense and jerk and moan, barely even registers the heel digging into his shoulder with how transfixed he is. And that moan that's different from the other sounds he's heard him make. And as soon as he hears it, he knows he wants more of it.

He greets that look with his own easy smile, his own eyes dark with barely contained arousal and lust.] God, you're hot. I got ya. [He mutters, because he feels like he needs to say something to that seeking gaze. It's one of the most attractive images he's seen, even if he's sure the compliment won't mean much to Cas. But it's honest. All of it. He's got Cas. He'll take care of him. And the words help ground him too against the sadistic itch that he's always been able to feel since Hell, the one that wants him to grind his fingers into Cas's prostate and watch his moan and writhe on his fingers until he's desperate and needy.

Instead he leaves him alone now that he's got the position memorized, spends a few brief moments stretching him with his fingers before he pulls them out.

It takes serious control to take the time to grab the lube and pour more onto his fingers rather than just use what's left. But he doesn't want any of this to ache. Not right now. And he slicks himself up good with it and slides in close with Cas, guides the leg over his shoulder to wrap around his waist instead, because he wants him close, wants to feel his weight on him.]

Tell me you're ready, Cas.

[ even after dean has pulled his fingers out, the feeling still skates over him like sparks hopping over his skin, electric and compulsive, lighting him up all over, making his skin feel too tight over the bones and flesh of his vessel. dean's so skilled with this that it's practically sinful, though castiel knows he's oversensitive, overeager, excited and read for anything dean could offer, but - he knows, too, how much experience dean has, how often he's done this sort of thing.

it's difficult to think about that and not be envious, to know how many bodies dean's hands have touched.. but castiel had meant what he had said before, about how he's relinquished the claim he never really had, that dean is not his, has never been his, so he has no place being envious of anyone. he should be appreciative, instead, that dean's hands are on him now, that it's castiel who has him so needy and captivated, even if this moment is fleeting. ]

I'm ready. [ he says, in a voice gone throaty and low, and his thighs tense, spreading a little further of their own accord, his eyes fixed on dean's face with a low, burning hunger like banked coals. he's half-hard again already, curling his calf against dean's back with barely restrained urgency. ] I'm ready. Please.

[He's tense and still, hand still on Cas' leg, the other wrapping around his cock so he can guide himself in. And he knows he could take it, Cas would be fine, and the invitation is there in the way his thighs fall even further apart for him. But he waits.

And god is he glad he waited. There's that smolder in Cas' eyes that has heat spreading through his chest, makes his features soften even as the rest of him is coiled tight and hard. Then the words tumble out, low and gravelly and he swears he can almost feel the rumble of his voice skate over his skin.

And it's all he has, the tease he's purposely built this encounter into, the restraint, the control-he can't play with it anymore. And he can feel his grasp on it all crumble as he sinks into Cas, inch by inch it undoes him, tears at him and leaves him raw by the time he settles fully inside him.

There's a tremble that starts at his shoulders, rolls all the way down his spine caused by the connection between their bodies. Sure, it's tight and hot and slick, but that's every hole. It's a piece of comfort, a piece of pleasure, it's like a strong drink or a good burger. That bit he expects. It's the familiarity, the sense of home that shocks him to the core.

And if anything it only lures him further in, has him crawling up Cas, settling low on his elbows, chests and faces only separated by a sheet of air. And then he's rolling his hips forward, instinctively seeking that angle that he's mapped out in his mind, and his lips smash into Cas'. And there's no chasteness, not even a sexual hunger, it's more need that he'll never admit to.]

[ it's slow and easy, a deep slide that pulls at his insides in a way he's never before experienced, a sensation wholly new and bracing in a way that makes his entire body tense and snap in all the best ways. ]

Dean - [ he breathes, abortive and tight, and once dean bottoms out inside of him he groans, deep and guttural, both thighs pressing in tightly to dean's sides to keep him close, as close as he can, and with his arms around dean's shoulders he's holding to him greedily, like a venus fly trap snapping tight around its prey.

the physicality of it is enough, it's good, but even better than that is the intimacy, the connection, the way he can feel dean against him, inside of him, all of dean pulling at him and tugging at his very core, and the heat of his mouth is exquisite and intoxicating, all of it together overwhelming. there's a familiarity and a nostalgia to this that makes him wonder why they ever waited so long to do this, like they were created for this, two halves of a broken whole coming together to form something so warm and good and irresistibly right that he can hardly bear the feel of it.

with one hand splayed between dean's shoulderblades, he lifts the other up and into dean's hair, seizing at it with a nearly desperate grip, his mouth falling open easily, taking dean's kiss, and all of the need in it, and consuming it whole, accepting it, giving it back in its entirety. he has never wanted anything more, never needed anything more, and all the thoughts of the world outside of these walls have faded away, castiel's entire world narrowed to dean, the weight of his body, the deep slide of his cock, the taste of his tongue. ]

[Losing himself has never felt like this before. He seeks it out, these moments where the memories melt and the thoughts stop and the future doesn't matter. But with Cas breathing his name like a prayer and clinging to him like he's the only thing anchoring him to this world, and kissing him in a way that seems to suck him empty and fill him whole at the same time, he doesn't feel lost at all. He feels found. It rips a sound from his chest that he can't identify, soft and small, but there for Cas to swallow along with the rest of him.

His hips roll up into that inviting heat without ever losing the grip Cas's legs have on him, he just pulls him with him, rocks him back into the mattress in an easy rhythm. His hands ball into the sheets near Cas's shoulders, all his weight resting on his forearms. His back ripples with movement, a languid arch with each roll forward that has that hand between his shoulder blades scratching down his back and neck.

And the dance only speeds up once he finds that rhythm to move to, body aching to finish even if the rest of him would happily settle in Cas all day. But it hasn't forgotten as physical need and want seeks out hard friction, takes pleasure and gives the slap of hips and the nudge of cock against prostate in return. It makes him breath heavily through his nose, makes fingers shred sheets, and makes his eyes squeeze shut as each thrust pulls him a little closer to the edge.]

[ dean is beautiful in the sleek, nearly feral roll of his body above him, all hard muscle and low, rumbling sounds, like a panther poised over him, against him, charged with hunger and animal need. castiel is happy to swallow all of the rough, hard noises that spill against his tongue, answering them with his own, each breathless moan fucked out of him by the steady rock of dean's hips as he finds his rhythm and sinks easily into it. castiel is captivated, wishes he could stand aside to watch it, to see the way dean's body moves, elegant and powerful, muscle rippling and bunching beneath his skin like rolling waves.

and he certainly knows what he's doing. every thrust of his cock is angled just right to strike that sweet spot, pressing and sliding mercilessly against his prostate, winding him up hard and fast. castiel's cock is hard and flushed again, caught between their bodies, aching, drooling precome hot and sticky against his belly but he doesn't want to get a hand between them, doesn't want anything between them but the friction, and the exhilarating slide of skin on skin.

it's all building like a song rising up and up towards its crescendo, though castiel feels he is lagging behind, he's come once already while dean has been forced to wait, patiently teased to desperation, but it doesn't matter. right now, this moment is all that matters. castiel breaks from the kiss to breathe, gulping mouthfuls of air, his mouth wet and pink from kissing and he clutches dean close by the hand in his hair, lifting his chin to stretch the sinuous length of his throat, his spine bending up and away from the sheets, hips bucking uselessly, like a pinned butterfly, held to the mattress by dean's weight. the hand against dean's back moves and shifts, sliding down the dip of his spine and up again, fingernails biting, dragging, pulling. ]

You feel so good, Dean. [ he says, pants, in a voice wrecked, like crushed glass beneath the heel of a boot. ] Harder, please.

[It's all too easy to give into those demands, a part of him has wanted something harder this whole time anyway, and with Cas' blessing, the leash snaps.

He pauses just long enough to shift his position, untangling hands from ripped sheets to bring his arms up to fold up on Cas' chest as his hands slide to grab his shoulders, fingers digging in roughly. And then he starts to move again, hips hard rocks forward that jerk Cas' body right along with them, but then his hands are there, dragging him back down when physics would otherwise have him pulling away, forcing that body to take the full force of each thrust that makes the bed squeak. And their bodies are pressed so closely together that it's impossible to ignore the persistent hardness digging into his abdomen, hot and dripping and caught up in the rough friction.

His eyes open again, but there's not much thought in them, nothing but the primal need to fuck and take and claim. His moans, low and dark, stay caught behind clenched teeth.

There's the drag of nails on his back and his shoulders roll back into the rough press, the slight burn of it adding a new layer to the pleasure that's already twisted and knotted low and hot in his gut, that has his dick pulsing and his balls drawn up tight. And all those signs should have him expecting it, the orgasm he's kept at bay up until this point, but it hits him like a fist to the gut that has him bowing forward, head falling heavy against Cas' chest, and there's not a damn thought in his head when his lips brush across warm and flushed skin and he bites even as he moans and jerks and his body snaps tight as he pulses and spills inside Cas.]

[ good, good, that's it, that's what he's looking for. the hard, relentless thrust of dean's cock snaps right through the numbness, and castiel groans hard, his body unfurling from around dean's to better feel it. he doesn't have to think anymore, doesn't have to worry or fuss about what to do, his vessel points the way with bright neon signs and castiel need only follow the road, senseless and needy. his thighs spread wide, heels digging hard into the mattress for leverage, his hands peel away to grasp hard in the sheets for stability, and soon his entire perspective has narrowed to the brutal slide of dean's cock, the wet, obscene in and out that sinks into his gut and unravels his mind.

castiel's breath comes fast and ragged, each exhale a whine or a hard, twisting groan, his expression screwed up tight with eyes shut against everything, all the world is sensation, rough and primal and savage and it's all tangling up hot in his belly like the molten mantle of the earth, driving him like hellhounds snapping unrelenting at his heels.

by the time dean comes, castiel is not quite there but he's so close, and the hot, slick spill inside of him is filthy and irresistible, stuffing him full and gratifying him in a way he'd never known he'd needed. a shiver ripples up his spine, and castiel twists in desperation, wrenching an arm down between their bodies to get a hand on his cock, his hips bucking erratic and mindless, fucking up into the tight circle of his hand and down onto the wet, shameless slide of dean's cock. the hard bite of teeth to flushed, sensitive skin, and dean's low animal moan are so good - it hardly takes a few more irregular snaps of his hips before castiel is tumbling right after him.

with a sharp inhale, his belly heaves and he comes, thick and sticky between their bodies, his free hand twisting in the sheets, his entire body pulled tight as a bowstring. with his head tossed back and his jaw slack, there's a brief moment where he makes no sound at all, only holds in his breath before it all releases in a wild, satisfied moan. it's sublime. coming to the wet heat of dean's mouth was amazing, but this is on another level entirely, it shakes him to the core, drives needles under his skin, explodes in white-hot light behind his eyes that blinds him to any other thought, pushing everything else away for that one, blissful moment. ]

[He's mildly aware of the hand between them, the erratic jerks and the rolls against his cock as Cas takes care of himself. He would love to help, would insist on being the one to help, if his arms didn't feel like jelly, if the world wasn't an ocean of colors behind his eyelids. The continued sensations get a nearly unconscious moan from him, burning and intense in his post-orgasmic haze.

But then he settles, and heat washes over his stomach and he hums at the sensation, somewhere under it all glad that Cas is taken care of. But that's all the focus he gives the moment. This, this part where he's all beating heart and pulsing blood and low breaths and nothing else, it's the cream and the cherry on top of mind-blowing sex and he'll cling to it greedily until he can't anymore.

But until then he's limp and easy on top of Cas, curling into his warmth and inhaling his scent and listening to the tune of his beating heart. And it's good. God, it's good.]

[ castiel is not too terribly far behind him.

the intensity passes, bleeding out of him quickly, and he's left panting and overheated, filthy all over, slick with dean's come and his own and with sweat that clings like a sticky veil. his hair feels damp and his lungs burn and there's an ache inside of him that's deep but gratifying. he's spent, fully, entirely, wrung out and scoured from the inside.

falling slack, castiel's sticky hand drops to the sheets, the other lifting to slide onto dean's shoulder and hold there, but past that he does not bother to move at all, sinks back into the damp sheets with his head turned aside and his eyes closed, labored breathing beginning to steady out, slowly but surely, against the pillow. it's a good feeling, satisfying somewhere far below the surface, and there's a thrumming in his blood and in his grace that licks at his insides, slow and soothing, making his body loose and languid, and his mind a cottony blur. dean is heavy against him, and too hot, but right now he doesn't mind it, likes the closeness, the raw intimacy, isn't willing to give it up just yet. ]

[It never matters what he does or doesn't do, eventually the feeling fades and he's left with the messy reality. The awkward disengage, the excuse he needs to use to leave, the mess he needs to clean up before he gets back to Sammy. But that's not what he has with Cas. He's right where he's supposed to be, with someone who understands him on a level that sometimes scares the hell out of him, and he doesn't care about the mess.

Instead it's just heat and that familiar messy hair and the ache of their activities that tugs and pulls muscles in all the right ways.

He knows this body is just a vessel, but he's still aware he's bigger, heavier, and he slides off of him and onto his side where he grins lazily at Cas.]

See. Talking in person was a good idea.

[ once dean is off of him castiel immediately misses the contact, but is grateful for the relief nonetheless, and he inhales deeply, exhales in a slow, fulfilled sigh; he's relatively sure he's never felt so content in his long life. the sound of dean's voice has him at last opening his eyes again, and turning his head just enough to look at him, offering an only slightly petulant frown. ]

.. I suppose.

[ he says curtly, but he's too relaxed to really put any bite behind it. ]

I hope you're satisfied.

[Oh good. Things are back to mostly normal then. And it settles the small flutter in his chest and lets the rest of his fears settle. For now anyway. If Cas starts smiting the occasional one night stand, he might have to come back to this.]

Mmm. Well. Mostly. [He hums playfully, shifting entirely onto his back, one arm sliding behind his head while the other one quietly worms its way under Cas's shoulders, a quiet extension to prolong this contact that really really doesn't need to be put into words.]

[ castiel's not entirely expecting the offer of dean's arm. he's not sure what to expect at all, to be honest. to be treated like one of dean's throwaway girls, probably, for this to end and become just one more thing that they don't speak about. so when he feels the arm snake beneath him, he hesitates for a moment, surprised, then turns into it right away, stealing up close to dean and pressing to his side. his free hand (the clean one) comes to rest against his chest.

but he's still frowning. ]

Mostly?

[He waits for Cas to react before he brings him arm up tighter around him. He's not as experienced in this part, but he can remember his time with Lisa. It's not the same buzz that he gets from sex, the brief bliss that comes right after, but it's calm. And sometimes that's just as important to him. Another thing he's willing to share with Cas.

He turns his attention toward the ceiling though, grinning lightly at that question.]

I haven't gotten that list of adjectives yet.

[ oh for heavens sake - he rolls his eyes. ]

I provided you with plenty.

[ however much of a brat dean might be, however, he isn't budging, even if he's tilting his head against the pillow enough to deliver an even, withering stare. his thumb still moves in idle patterns against dean's warm, bare skin. ]

[He chuckles at that look and figures if those fingers can still be gentle he's not in all that much trouble, so he tilts his head enough so that he can kiss Cas on the forehead.]

Then the game continues. [And yes, he does have to add the cheesy wink to the end.]

angels with crushes are always problematic

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