Cas’s heart beats so fast against Dean’s hand when it brushes against Cas’s frame. For a moment Dean stills, because it just makes this more real, because it’s a human heart beating underneath his fingers, with such a force that Dean has to stop moving. It’s not as if he hasn’t realized it until now – he has, thank you so very much, but it was always the wrist or the neck that he searched for a pulse, never the heart.
“Dean?” Cas whispers, and Dean jolts out of his train of thoughts. “Is – is there something wrong?”
“No,” Dean answers, maybe too quickly, but he leans down and doesn’t let Cas ask anything more. He isn’t going to ruin this with his doubts and his hang-ups and his guilt trips – human or angel, Cas is still Cas and Dean has already lost him three times. It’s not going to happen again.
And that said, this should have happened after the whorehouse and not now, years later; he doesn’t try to think about what would have changed if only he had gone with his gut and kissed Cas that night.
He does it now, though, and he can’t believe how easy it is, how well his lips fit against Cas’s (which feel soft and wet, and Dean loves seeing them kiss-swollen), how good it feels to have Cas’s tongue brush against his, how warm Cas’s hands feel on his shoulder. Dean keeps one on Cas’s heart and the other on Cas’s neck, and he’s breathless when he moves away. Cas’s cheeks are slightly flushed and Dean swallows, leaning down to kiss Cas’s pulse point. It throbs in time with his heart and Dean really needs to do something before he starts blurting lines that that might be fit for a Hallmark card.
“So, we’re doin’ this,” he whispers over Cas’s ear, moving his hand down to Cas’s half-hard cock; when Cas moans in return, Dean feels blood rushing down towards his waist. He thinks he’d like to hear Cas scream.
“Is there something you want?” he teases, knowing that Cas doesn’t have an answer for that, not when he’s staring up at him with eyes wide and blue and so alive. He gives Cas’s cock a slow stroke then, and sure enough, Cas doesn’t even try to answer.
That’s not an issue. This has to be as good as it possibly gets, and Dean is set on making it so, because with everything they went through in the last months (if not years) he won’t accept the idea that this might go wrong.
And since he’s the one about to make sure that Cas isn’t a virgin the fourth time he dies (and Dean resolutely does not think about that), he isn’t going to fuck it up.
He moves down the bed, still keeping his hand on Cas’s cock, giving it a slow stroke here and there; he takes it away when he’s in the right position, and before Cas can protest, he leans down and licks a stripe along Cas’s cock.
Cas lets out something that can only be described as whimper, and Dean does it again before breathing in and taking Cas’s cock in his mouth. He goes slow, stopping just before the root, and then he starts working on it. He runs his tongue under the tip, feeling it when it grows harder inside his mouth, and fuck if it doesn’t do things to him that he hadn’t thought he’d feel sucking cock – and he has done it enough times before to know the difference. Cas’s hands go over his head, but Cas doesn’t push – he merely touches with the tips of his fingers as Dean takes him in deeper. There’s something about it that makes Dean wish that Cas would just fuck his mouth earnestly, because that’s what he’d have expected, but of course it doesn’t happen, and he’ll have to deal with the shivers going through his spine every time Cas’s fingers brush over his forehead.
Meanwhile he can feel spit and pre-come running over his chin as he bobs his head, and he wonders whether Cas is close or not; it’s not that he doesn’t want Cas to come in his mouth, but he had other plans – that can be saved for the next time. When Cas spreads his legs slightly, his back arching up, Dean forces himself to move away, and as Cas moans in displeasure he leans back on the bed, wrapping his hand around Cas’s cock again. It’s wet with pre-come and his own spit and fuck, it shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but seeing Cas’s cheeks flushed red and his forehead makes Dean’s throat go dry.
“I was thinking,” Dean says, rubbing his thumb over the tip of Cas’s cock, looking down at Cas as he forces to pay attention.
“You were?” Cas breathes out, and he manages to make it sound almost condescend.
Dean is tempted to tell him to never fucking change ever again, but he keeps his mouth shut.
“What do you think I was doing in the bathroom before, looking at myself in the mirror?”
He takes Cas’s hand as he places his knees around Cas’s thighs and brings it back; when Cas traces the rim of his hole and his eyes widen in understanding, Dean has to bite his tongue in order not to emit some embarrassing sound.
“You have – you have already…”
“Figured you’d like to save time. Next time you can do it, what ‘bout it?”
He might have said something else if Cas hadn’t slipped a finger in, up until the knuckle; it goes almost without a hitch, but then again Dean hasn’t spent a while prepping himself to do it badly.
“I wasn’t planning on you using just your fingers,” Dean cuts him short, and Cas groans at that, sitting up a bit straighter and grabbing Dean’s shoulder before kissing him, hard and fast and rough, and Dean thinks that he could used to this. Oh, he could, and then the kiss is over and then Cas is pushing that finger in fully. Dean moans, his hands going to Cas’s shoulder, and then Cas slips that fingers out and pushes a second inside. It goes as smoothly as it gets, and Dean wishes that Cas would just do it since he’s hard as a rock and he has barely touched himself.
When Cas nods at him after three fingers slip out, Dean raises himself up on his knees and closes his eyes as he lowers himself down on Cas’s cock. At the beginning it does hurt a bit, but he goes slow, thankful for Cas’s hands on his hips, and when Cas is fully inside him, he puts his hands on Cas’s shoulders to steady himself. He needs a moment, he isn’t sure he can start right now, and so he kisses Cas again, open-mouthed, their tongues caressing slowly – and after all, they have time, haven’t they? He raises his hips up a bit before lowering himself down again and he outright moans into Cas’s mouth the moment Cas’s cock brushes against his prostate.
Cas’s eyes jerk open and his hands go back on Dean’s hips again.
“Dean, can I – should I –”
“Yes, fuck, yes,” Dean blurts, and then he’s lowering himself down again the moment Cas’s hips jerk up, and a moment later he’s grateful that Cas’s hands are keeping him half-steady because his entire body is on fire; Cas forces him to keep an even pace, not too fast and not too slow, and whenever his cock hits the right place again and again Dean can’t help it – yes and Cas and fuck and more all escape from his mouth, and he sounds desperate, but Cas is saying yes and Dean and too much and using in same tone and Dean forgets about everything that isn’t Cas’s voice in his ear and Cas fucking him slowly and Cas’s hands on his hips, gripping hard enough that Dean knows he’ll have bruises tomorrow.
When Cas comes, it’s hard and it makes Dean feel fucking floored, because when it happens Cas is as deep as it can be and his lips are on Dean’s neck and as he shivers and as his hips jerk up, he’s saying Dean and yes as if this is the best thing that ever happened to him. If Dean had needed a push then this is it, and before he knows he has his own hand around his cock and he’s coming all over Cas’s stomach with just a few strokes, harder than he can remember doing in years. He reaches out with his free hand, crushing Cas’s chest against his own as Cas whispers Dean, Dean, Dean all over again, and then he’s just gone – he lets himself fall against Cas and as he closes his eyes and feels pleasure wash all over him, he thinks that they really were idiots for not having done this before.
When he comes to, Cas’s head is buried against his shoulder and he’s still inside him; his thighs are sticky and the sheets are a mess, but Dean isn’t so sure that he wants to move. He brings his other hand around Cas’s shoulders, shivering when Cas does the same. Cas’s heart is still pounding steadily and Dean feels each single, quick beat. They fall down on the bed a short while later, Cas pulling out of him before it becomes painful, but as soon as he does Dean grabs him around the shoulders again, hauling him close.
“So,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “You realize what you were missing?”
Cas snorts and presses a feather-light kiss against Dean’s pulse point instead of answering, his fingertips running through Dean’s hair.
He probably does realize that, though, and Dean doesn’t need it spelled out. He can always get Cas to admit it next time.