Each time Dean touches them, they seem to move beneath his fingers of their own accord, like they are sentient. He knows it’s really Cas moving them but he can’t shake the tingle it sends up his own spine.
They take up the whole motel room, casting shadows on the walls and the ceiling. Despite their size, each feather is defined and individual, some white as pure snow and others black as a starless night but the majority fall in between.
Castiel is on his hands and knees in the center of the room; all the furniture has been pushed to the edges to accommodate him. Dean kneels behind him, fascinated by the transition from skin to feathers. He puts his hand on the base of one, feeling the bone inside the wing; He grasps it tight, his fingers messing up the feathers perfect alignment.
With his other hand, he opens Cas up, two fingers working inside him, stretching the muscle so that it will take him easily. The wing moves beneath his hand as Castiel rotates his shoulders, the muscles underneath moving almost as fluidly as the feathers.
Dean removes his fingers from Castiel, grasping the wing harder, almost enough to pull the feathers out had they not been stronger than any bird’s in history. His cock slides into Cas, his hand pushing him forward and pulling him back by the wing, making Castiel fuck himself on his cock, his body and his wings shaking with the effort not to move outside of Dean’s guidance.
Dean pushes him down, making his knees spread further apart, letting Den push in deeper. His hand moves from the crux of Cas’ wing, stroking over the body of the wing until he couldn’t reach any further, before bringing his hand back over them, rubbing them the wrong way and making Castiel growl reflexively, the noise somewhere between mild discomfort and pleasure.
“Do you like that?”Dean whispers and notices the wings answering first, shivering beneath his fingers, so he did it again, this time harder leaving the feathers sticking out at different angles.
“Fuck!” Castiel swore, his body shivering just like his wings had done. “Dean...”
Dean pushes into him harder, thrusting faster and running his hands all over the wings, not caring which direction he was stroking them, as long as Cas keeps moaning his name. He grabbed handfuls of them, pulling them just enough to make Castiel sit up and fall onto Dean’s lap. The position made all of Dean’s muscles scream in agony but it’s worth it to bury his face in the feathers and breathe them in.
Cas rolls his hips, riding Dean’s cock, each movement making Dean pull of the fistfuls of feathers he was still clutching, each tug burning exactly like the stretch of muscle around Dean’s cock burned. Each tug pulling him closer to the edge and making him ride Dean harder.
He braces his hands on the floor as he comes, just from Dean’s manhandling of his wings, his cock completely untouched. He falls forward, letting the wings flap free, breaking them free of Dean’s grip and showering them both in abused and damaged feathers. He feels Dean come inside of him, clawing at his skin now that he couldn’t hold onto his wings.
He shakes his wings once final time to shed the last few broken feathers. When Dean recovers, he’ll spend hours brushing them out, making them lie smooth again but for now Cas lets them fade back into shadows so he can curl up against Dean comfortably and wait while he sleeps.