Dean figures that he must’ve developed some kind of Cas-sense from living with the guy. Aside from the fact that it’s been a whole freaking year since they’d become roommates – geez, where’d the time go – Cas is the kind of person that expects everyone in his immediate orbit to accommodate him or get out of his way. He is a rock, weird and nerdy and implacable, and although that’s not a bad thing, not everyone gets it. Dean, despite everyone else’s expectation, does, which is why he’s able to hear the rock rumbling before the avalanche.
So Dean’s in their kitchen one morning, trying to organize the last minutes notes he’s put together for Singer’s class, when Cas corners him by the fridge.
“Dean,” Cas says, voice close to Dean’s shoulder.
Dean’s aforementioned Cas-sense means that he, one, does not jump, and two, immediately drops his notes on the counter because that’s Cas’ serious voice he’s using. Not the prissy, terse tone he uses to knock anyone he doesn’t like out of his way, but the soft, worried one that means that whatever’s about to follow is of utmost importance and Dean had better fucking pay attention.
“What.” Dean thinks quickly – he’s done his laundry, he’s thrown away the last of those leftovers that Cas had been bitching him to the past few days, and he definitely hasn’t borrowed anything of Cas’ without permission lately. “What’d I do?”
Cas blinks at him, startled. “Did you do something?”
“No,” Dean says slowly. “I don’t think so.”
If Cas were someone else, he’d roll his eyes at this point. But he isn’t someone else, so he just leans in and peers closely into Dean’s face as though to rip the truth from the back of his eyeballs. “You didn’t borrow my laptop again, did you? I’m still clearing out the malware from the last time.”
“That wasn’t my fault!” Dean protests. It really wasn’t, Cas knows him well enough by now to expect the hazards that come from subjecting a computer to Dean’s typical browser history. “Hey, don’t change the subject, what do you want?”
“Ah, yes. I have a very important question.” Cas takes deep breath and Dean’s brain immediately jams with frantic thoughts of – Cas wants to move out, Cas wants Dean to move out, Cas heard Dean gasping his name when he’d jerked off in the shower the other day and wants to eviscerate him or, worse yet, let him down gently. It could be anything.
Cas opens with a mild, “We’ve been roommates for a while now.”
“Yes, it’s great,” Dean says quickly. He’s not even lying, letting out a soft huff of relief when Cas’ face softens in clear agreement. Dean doesn’t get why other people keep saying Cas doesn’t smile or has no feelings. “We should do something for our anniversary. Get a proper coffee machine, maybe.”
“Yes, we could—stop distracting me.” Cas’ gaze darts away for a moment, which is weird.
If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say Cas is nervous, but Cas probably doesn’t even know how to be nervous, like he doesn’t know how to be self-conscious because all that doubting shit only happens to other people. He’s everything Dean isn’t, which is what Dean lo—which is what Dean really digs about him.
“In all this time,” Cas says, “I’ve never been in heat.”
Oh Jesus, H word alert. Dean immediately feels an inappropriate warm tingly sensation low in his stomach, practically a Pavlovian response to Cas saying anything remotely perverted. Dean manages to blurt out an acceptably casual, “Dude, TMI.”
Now Cas rolls his eyes. “Be an adult, Dean. We’ve already talked about this, but I just thought... I’d like some clarification.”
They’d talked about it before Dean moved in, even. That had been in the early days, when they’d gotten stuck together for that linguistics paper and Cas had opened their first conversation by laying down a long list of rules built on stupid-ass alpha stereotypes, which had led an epic yelling match because although Cas is an omega that don’t mean Dean has to take that kind of shit from him.
Somewhere after Dean’s ripping apart Cas’ blatant double standards point by point, Cas had just stopped and gone suddenly, abruptly still. He’d stared up at Dean, eyes wide, as though he’d just seen a unicorn. “You’re very laidback,” he’d said.
“The hell?” Dean had replied. “We’ve been arguing your dumb-ass rules of conduct and you wanna say I’m laidback?”
“Look at you.” Cas had gestured at him, pointing out what Dean hadn’t noticed, i.e. he’d kept his hands down and his body a safe distance away. Dean had just shrugged, suddenly embarrassed that an omega would find his lack of instinctual aggression something worth noticing, and then started in surprise when Cas said, far more calmly, “Would you like some coffee while we try again to discuss our project, and I’ll refrain from making untoward assumptions about your person?”
That had been that. Cas learned that Dean’s the way he is because he comes from a literal family of alphas (“My mom, dad, younger bro – so you figure out a way deal with that”) and Dean learned that Cas is the way he is because no one, not even his own family, knows what to do with an omega that doesn’t have a sex drive (“For a while I wore beta deodorant but it was just too much effort to keep up”).
From there they became friends, to roommates, to getting to a level where Cas is the one Dean trusts to shove a pack of ice down his pants when his rut gets out of control. (Not literal ice, of course, aside for that one time that had been an emergency that Dean is in no hurry to repeat.)
Sometimes Dean surprises himself at the realization of where they are now: an alpha and an omega living together and very much not fucking no matter what Dean’s douchebag friends keep joking. It’s just never been an issue, not since that first argument, because Cas speaks his mind and Dean apparently speaks Cas, and that works.
They’re just friends who live together. And don’t fuck. Because Cas doesn’t fuck, or date, or allow his body to have its natural heat cycles, because all of those things are inconvenient and get in the way of efficient academic nerdery. Dean’s made peace with that.
“What clarification you talking about?” Dean asks now. “You need me to make a run? I can pick something up on the way back from class.”
“No, that’s – I appreciate that, but no.” Cas clears his throat. “I wish to present to you a hypothetical situation. If I were to go into heat – Dean, stop fidgeting. If I were to go into heat, would you...” He trails off, words lost, blue eyes very wide and uncertain. It’s a terrible look on him.
“Never,” Dean says firmly. He clasps Cas’ shoulder, squeezing gently. “Cas, you’re the best thing that’s happened to – um, here. You’re my best friend, and I would never fuck that up. Biology could try to get in the way, but I won’t let it. You know me, I’m a stubborn son-of-a-bitch.”
“That you are,” Cas agrees, gaze dropping briefly to the floor. A beat, and then he’s smiling up at Dean again, and Dean does his very best not to creepily memorize the way the light catches the full curve of Cas’ mouth. “You are very reliable that way.”
“Thanks.” Dean shoves at Cas’ arm, getting a warm glow in his chest when Cas makes a put-upon face, shoulders relaxing. Before he can slip away, though, Dean tugs at his wrist gently. “Hey. If you’re ever – if you ever feel threatened by me, just do whatever you think you have to. You can walk away, kick me in the balls, whatever. I’d totally understand.”
“Oh, please,” Cas huffs. “There does not exist any world in which I’d have a problem handling you.”
“Hey, man, I’m just saying.” Dean totally does not grin stupidly when Cas leans in for a platonic, friendship-affirming hug.
Cas’ hugs are the worst, but Dean enjoys them anyway, skin jumping at the awkward curl of Cas’ arm around his back. Dean only indulges a teeny tiny bit, eyes drifting closed as he scents the skin near Cas’ ear. He smells good today, sweeter than usual. He’s probably trying out some new soap. It’s nice.
“You have class to go to, Dean.” Cas untangles himself from Dean’s arms and dumps the sheaf of papers back into his hands. “You’ll be late, go.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says, grinning at him. “Don’t miss me too much.” So he goes.
It’s weird, though, even after Dean’s made it to the Hall and dropped into a seat near the back, his nostrils are still flaring, his skin slightly itchy. Cas had some really nice aftershave on, but maybe Dean’s having some kind of allergic reaction. He should ask him about it later.
Later turns out to be much later, because when Dean gets back from class, Cas is nowhere to be found. The apartment’s empty, Cas’ jacket gone and their rooms eerily quiet in a way that even having Dr. Sexy on the TV won’t be able to fill up. Cas’ laptop is stowed at his desk, which means that he’s not out studying. Maybe he made a milk run? Or it could be a meds run, which would explain the heat conversation earlier.
Dean sends Cas a text to let him know that he’s going to the party at Victor’s frat house. The parties there don’t usually get out of hand but there’s no telling if he’d need rescuing. Cas is good at that, swooping in to drag Dean out of useless workshops and lame parties whenever Dean so much as hints at having a bad time over the phone. Victor likes to give Dean hell for that, but he’s just jealous, everyone should have a Cas of their own.
“Didn’t manage to drag him out tonight?” Victor says when Dean gets there. The house is jumping and there’s enough of a crowd for Dean to comfortably fade into. Victor still found him, though, because he’s a ninja like that.
“Didn’t even get a chance to try,” Dean replies. “Cas bailed on me before I could.” The place has hit that noisy part of the evening, beer flowing and a rowdier bunch playing some sort of video game at the HD TV and while their audience screams helpful advice. Dean takes a swig of the beer he’d snagged from out front. “Christ, Victor, your bros couldn’t swing for something decent to drink? Seriously.”
Victor makes a grabs for Dean’s bottle. “Then give that back, you ingrate,” he says, which just makes Dean laugh and shove back.
“Winchester!” An arm comes over Dean’s shoulder. It’s Jody, and Dean snorts under his breath as he watches Victor and her do their stupid house salute. She turns to him, grinning. “So where’s the plus one? Couldn’t drag him away from his books again?”
“Hey, don’t rag on him,” Dean says mildly. “Not his fault he doesn’t know a good time when he sees one.” They laugh, and Dean quickly changes the topic, asking what’s up with the renovation going on in the backyard. He likes Victor and Jody, but they keep getting him and Cas wrong, and it’s annoying.
Dean likes Cas, and he knows Cas likes him. That’s not in doubt, though Dean knows better than to take it for granted. Cas barely lets anyone in, since he hasn't the patience to deal with people unless he thinks they’re worth it. For some reason, Dean’s worth it. For some other reason, Victor (and anyone else knows who both of them) thinks that Cas has been denying Dean access to his pants and Dean’s broken up over that.
Dean could correct them, but it’s not worth the effort. So what if he wants Cas; has wanted Cas since some undefined moment during their months of living together where Dean had looked up from whatever petty domestic thing they’d been doing and had gotten that sharp, sudden punch to the gut at the realization of how happy he was, actually getting an education and befriending people and co-habiting with an anti-social sweetheart who’d knock your kneecaps out if he ever heard you call him sweetheart to his face? (Cas is a charmer like that.)
And sure, Cas is hot, it’s not like Dean’s blind. But Dean doesn’t think with his knot. Fuck everyone else, getting to be friends with Cas is its own reward.
Dean perks up suddenly, head whipping around. “Cas?”
“What?” Victor gives him an odd look. Jody’s in the middle of talking about a chandelier made out of bottlecaps, and trails off with a confused, “Huh?”
“Can’t you smell...?” Dean takes a quick sniff, and sure enough that’s Cas, Dean would know him anywhere. But Cas also smells off somehow, like he’d gone frolicking in the rain, leaving his skin scrubbed fresh and raw. “Wait, did he crash your party and not tell me? I’m gonna kick his ass.”
“I don’t smell anything.” Jody exchanges a look with Victor. “You sure?”
“Yeah, positive.” Dean cranes his neck, searching the crowd for a familiar dark mop of hair. He doesn’t see him, but the scent, now cloying, is clearly coming from the back of the house, near the kitchen. “Catch you guys later, okay?”
It’s easy enough to weave a path through chatting bodies, tracking that intriguing smell to its source. Dean feels almost light-headed, jittery like the time he’d managed to convince Cas to join him for a midnight viewing of the new Trek movie two towns over where no one they know would see them. Tracing the path through the house feels like chasing a rainbow, Dean darting easily through a bunch of uninteresting people to get to his pot of gold.
Except when Dean gets there, he almost trips on his own feet. Cas is leaning against the wall, hands wrapped around a paper cup, and he’s talking to some guy. Which is fine, Cas has a mouth, he can talk to people, but his body language is… wrong.
It takes Dean a moment to play spot the difference between the Cas he knows and the Cas he sees. The angles of his body are off – the way his head’s cocked, the way his hip presses against the wall, the freaking way he freaking reaches out and freaking touches the other guy’s arm, for starters.
“Dude!” Dean says.
“Oh, hi, Dean!” The other guy turns to him and, hey it’s Inias, Dean didn’t even notice. Dean’s too busy watching the way Cas seems to slump dejectedly that he only vaguely registers Inias’ cheerful, “I was just asking Castiel where you were.”
“Why are you here?” Dean asks. “You never come to parties.”
Cas smiles stiffly, while another wave of that infernal scent washes over Dean. “Yes, I do.”
“Only when I make you!” Dean exclaims. “Why didn’t you say you were coming, we could’ve come together, have you been here the whole night?”
“Inias, wait!” Cas stares with his mouth open, stunned when Inias wanders off with a careless wave. He then spins on Dean, eyes suddenly narrowed and far less friendly. “Why did you do that, Dean? I was making good headway.”
Dean frowns. “Good headway on what?”
“Hey, baby.” Some asshole – oh, hey, it’s only Pamela – slinks up to the wall next to Cas. “Looking for company?” She reaches up and flicks at Cas’ hair, making him jump.
“What is up with you?” Dean quickly bats Pamela’s hands off of Cas. “Go away, you don’t even like Cas.”
“Dean,” Cas grits out, “You are not being helpful.”
Pamela moves in closer to Cas’ side despite Dean’s unsubtle efforts of shooing her away. “Exactly,” she says, “you need to blow this popsicle stand, and I’m coming with you. What’d you say to that?” She leans in towards Cas, nostrils flaring briefly. She’s scenting him, Dean realizes, and that’s what sends the cluebat knocking at Dean’s balls.
That smell, that smell, Christ on a slinky, that’s Cas on the first flickers of heat. Dean couldn’t ping it because he knows Cas’ smell too well, his brain automatically filling in the missing bits in between of what Cas usually smells like to make up for the sudden change.
“Dean,” Cas says tersely. “Dean, let me go.”
Dean looks down at where he’s clamped a hand around Cas’ forearm. He tries, he really does, but his fingers don’t want to move. “You don’t go into heat.”
Cas carefully peels Dean’s hand off his arm and jabs two fingers angrily at Dean’s sternum. “No, I’ve never gone into heat since we’ve known each other. Of course I go into heat, it’s – what do you usually call it? Scheduled maintenance? Cleaning out the pipes?”
Pamela laughs. “You really couldn’t tell, Dean?”
“But Cas doesn’t – he doesn’t!” Dean sputters. He glares at Cas in abject betrayal. “You don’t even have sex!” Pamela starts to speak again but Dean crowds Cas away from her, hissing, “You don’t need to do this, Cas, you don’t need to – to cruise. I could get you a fake knot, I know a great place—”
“I don’t want a fake knot!” Cas snarls in his face. Dean’s getting dizzy from how good Cas smells, thoughts careening down the path of wondering how good would he smell underneath his clothes, in his armpits, at the dip of his back where his sweat’s got to be pooling.
Then Cas blows Dean’s mind by saying in that low, sandpaper sex voice that has been following Dean to sleep for far too long, “I want a real one. I want a real, human, flesh and bone penis to fill me up. Will you please get out of my way, Dean, I’m horny.”
There’s really no other way that Dean can respond to that. He slams Cas up against the wall, practically crowing at the way Cas yelps in surprise. God, Cas is – Cas is so warm, his body a taut line of muscle pressed against Dean’s, wiry and strong and perfect. Cas’ hands find Dean’s shoulders, pulling the cloth there into tight bunches as he clings to him.
Dean’s heart is pounding so hard that he can barely hear his low, “This enough knot for you, Cas?”
“Congratulations, well done,” Cas says dryly, but there’s no mistaking the hitch of in his voice. He shifts a little, the cloth of their pants rasping where their crotches are pressed together. “You have a knot, you must be so proud.”
“Am I not good enough for you?” Dean rests his forehead against Cas’, Dean determined to shield Cas in the lee of his body, away from the eyes of other, lesser people. “Just say it, Cas, tell me.”
Cas’ eyes are clear of fear when they look up into Dean’s. There’s a hint of omega grey in the blue, Cas’ body warming up for the main event. Dean wonders what Cas sees in return, whether there’s flashes of red in his own, the alpha side of him that he doesn’t let out to play that often trying to make itself known.
“But you said you’d never...” Cas licks his lips, and Dean feels Cas’ cock twitch against his thigh. “You said you’d never have me.”
“What? No, I...” Dean spares a moment to be really fucking annoyed, and then slides his hands under Cas’ hamstrings, lifting him up so that Cas is effectively trapped between the wall and Dean’s lap. “Is that what you were asking? You wanted me to take your heat?”
“Of course that’s what I was asking,” Cas snaps. “That’s why I asked it.”
“Oh, for crying out...” Dean kisses him, hard and furious. If this moment were different, if Cas’ skin weren’t screaming for touch, Dean would do this slow. He’d taste Cas’ mouth carefully, find the different ways they can fit, then savor every single mini, micro second of the sensory overload of actually finally kissing Cas so to stretch it over an eternity.
But Dean’s not even in enough of the right mind to appreciate what could’ve been. All he knows is that right now – right this instant – Cas is kissing him back frantically, open-mouthed and teeth knocking in an almost vicious claiming. One of Cas’ hands comes up to Dean’s head, fingernails digging into his scalp with an angry desperation that makes Dean growl into Cas’ mouth.
Cas’ legs have found Dean’s hips, wrapping around him tightly, the narrow heat between their bodies unbearable. Dean slides a hand round to cup Cas’ ass, fingers dipping into the heat between that perfect crevice, and he finds that the cloth there damp with evidence of Cas’ need.
Cas’ desire fills Dean’s nose, his mouth, leaking into his bloodstream where it twines with Dean’s own want. Because Dean wants, hell yeah, hewants, and the fact Cas smells and tastes and feels much better than any dream just ratchets that want all the way up to eleven.
There’s noise somewhere. Someone’s talking but it can’t be important, nothing in the world is as important as the way Cas is trying to hump Dean’s stomach.
Something hits his back and Dean yelps, mouth pulling away from Cas’ with a soft smack. Stopping kissing Cas is a bad idea but he gets to see Cas’ face properly now, how he seems to glow in Dean’s arms, gorgeous and flushed and eyes flooded with dark grey. Dean starts to lean in again when some dickbag grabs his shoulder.
Dean growls, head snapping round to bare his teeth at the intruder. A blurry face swims into view – they’re not Cas, so who the hell cares who they are – but they don’t seem to be leaving.
“Get the hell out of here if you’re gonna do this,” the guy says. “Stop that, you know I’m not interested.”
Cas seems to be vibrating. Dean clutches at him, only to realize that Cas is growling, too, his own lips pulled back as he snarls at their intruder.
A name rises up through the fevered cloud in Dean’s head – Victor? The guy rolls his eyes. “I warned you.” He lifts up a can – air freshener? – and sprays them.
“The fuck!” Dean swings an arm out wildly, the other one still holding on to Cas – don’t drop him, don’t hurt Cas, never ever hurt Cas. The smell of sea salt briefly fills Dean’s nose, and then he’s aware of where they are, what they’re doing, and the fact that they’ve got an audience. Good thing most of them aren’t even watching, some guys doing shots up front apparently a much better show. But among the people who have been watching are two kids – cocky freshmen, looks like – who raise up paper cups on which they’ve sharpied 8 and 9 respectively.
Victor points a finger to the door. “Get out.”
Cas purrs, blithely ignoring Victor and rubbing his cheek against Dean’s chin. “Dean.” Dean’s toes seem to curl in his shoes, there’s so much heavy promise in the way Cas says his name. “Dean. Need your knot, Dean.”
“Hold on to me,” Dean says, and Cas tightens his grip. Cas isn’t that light but Dean gets a burst of energy from somewhere, swinging him round and carrying him like that: Cas legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, as he runs through the kitchen to the laundry room.
Victor follows them, shouting, “You’re not—”
But it’s too late, Dean’s shoved his back against the door, slamming it shut. Cas reaches around Dean, locking the door with a loud click.
“God, yeah,” Dean groans as he slides his mouth hotly over Cas’ again. Cas cups Dean’s head, and once he’s lowered his feet to the floor that leaves Dean free to run his hands up and down Cas’ body.
Cas’ body that he’s looked at but not touched, not this way, never thought it could be this way. Dean needs more of it right now so he pulls at Cas’ shirt, lifting the hem from his pants until he gets handfuls of delicious skin, grabbing at it eagerly while Cas murmurs his approval.
“More, Dean,” Cas gasps. “Please, more.”
Yeah, he can do more. He can push Cas against a washing machine – it’s a frathouse, surely this kind of thing happens all the time in here – and grabs fistfuls of Cas’ shirt to yank apart. Buttons are nasty little things so they’re gone, dealt with, and now Dean can shove Cas’ undershirt up to his armpits and get his teeth around one of Cas’ dark nipples.
God, Dean wants to do this all day. All night, whatever. Cas’ whines as his soundtrack and Dean’s teeth trailing over skin, he wants to sample all this newly-revealed treasure but he can feel the blood hunger rising up again now they’re alone. The room is flooded with Cas’ pheromones, and there won’t be much time left. He’s supposed to be in early heat but he’s definitely raring to go now, the tent in his pants encouraging. Dean’s knot certainly feels like it’s ready to party, hot and itchy at the base of his dick.
“I didn’t know,” Cas gaps. He’s got his fingers in Dean’s hair, pulling just hard enough that the ache rushes down Dean’s spine to rest heavy in his balls. “I didn’t know it could be – Dean, I need it, stop teasing.”
“It’s gonna be good.” Dean flattens his tongue to lick at Cas’ other nipple. They’re pebbled and hard, it’s so easy to just drop his lips around one and suck. Cas cries out, body jerking up, and then he’s suddenly shoving Dean away. Dean flails stupidly. “What?”
“I said stop teasing!” Cas immediately starts working on his belt, his usually elegant fingers clumsy as he struggles with the buckle and zipper. Dean starts on his own pants, snarling when he finds his fingers are just as useless when it comes to anything that’s not part of Cas’ body.
When Cas shoves his pants down, Dean almost falls over. Cas’ cock is hard and curved up to his stomach, but Dean can barely concentrate on that for the wetness he can smell between Cas’ legs. Dean’s mouth goes abruptly dry with the spine-tingling hunger to lick him open. He wants to shove his face into Cas’ ass, get to the ripe source and take it all.
That’s what he wants, though. What he gets is a show of Cas reaching behind himself, hand going to that hidden place and coming back out with his fingers wet and shiny. Dean lets out a whimper which turns into a full-out moan when Cas pulls Dean’s cock out from his half-opened pants and slicks him up.
“Jesus,” Dean gasps, grabbing the base of his dick. He can’t decide what’s hotter: his dick in Cas’ hand, Cas’ hand on his dick, or that he’s getting lubed up with Cas’ wetness. His cock jumps in Cas’ fingers, pre-come mixing with the clear slick as Cas pumps him gently. Dean bites out, “Stop that or I’m gonna come.”
Cas bites his lip, humor lighting up his face, and flicks a fingertip to the head of Dean’s cock. “If you do that I’ll just have to look for another knot, won’t I?”
Dean sees red for a moment, the world tilting wildly until he’s got Cas jammed between his body and the washing machine. Cas is in his arms again, his back pressed solidly against Dean’s front, which is so much better. It’s almost too much effort for Dean to reach down and line up his dick, nudging firmly at the warmth between Cas’ ass cheeks until he finds the soft give of his entrance.
Dean closes his eyes, determined to at least steal this one, breathless moment. He marvels at way Cas’ wet pucker feels pulsing against the head of his cock, a slight catch against the sensitive skin that sends a thrilling buzz through Dean’s skin. It must have the same effect on Cas because he reaches around, grabs Dean’s arm for leverage, and shoves back firmly onto Dean’s cock.
“Oh fuck!” Dean moves without thinking, snapping his hips forward as Cas pushes back. The slam of their bodies rocks the poor washing machine, metal groaning against the floor. Dean needs a few dozen heartbeats to process the amazing tight heat all around his dick. It’s not a dream, he really is buried all the way inside Cas, who’d opened up around him easy as anything.
Dean carefully slides a little way out, then pushes in. Amazing isn’t a good enough for the way Cas’ body begs for Dean’s, the hot smoothness of Cas’ muscles clinging around Dean’s cock like it wants to swallow him right down. Cas is so wet that there’s almost too much of it, some of the slick dripping past Dean’s cock and down the inside of Cas’ thighs.
Cas takes a deep breath, braces his hands on the edge of washing machine, and shoves back forcefully, taking Dean’s cock. Head still dropped forward, Cas suddenly lets out this – this loud, forlorn wail that makes the hairs on Dean’s arms go up. Dean had never thought Cas could be like this, so needy and desperate, practically writhing on Dean’s dick in trying to get him to start fucking him properly.
“I got you, Cas.” Dean carefully pulls Cas upright, slides a hand across his chest to hold him them tight together. Cas’ head lolls back against Dean’s shoulder, and Dean lets out a shocked breath at the agony in Cas’ open mouth and tightly-shut eyes. Dean kisses Cas’ temple, darting a tongue out to taste the sweat there. “Gonna take care of you.”
Cas is desperate for it. Dean starts fucking him in firm, steady pumps of his hips, each one echoed by Cas’ breathless whimpers. Cas must be burning inside, he’s arching his back and clenching around Dean like it’s his last salvation. Dean just keeps fucking him, pushing his cock where it’s needed, waking up those tender swollen places and scratching the itch that has Cas clawing helplessly at the washing machine surface.
Dean presses his nose to the space behind Cas’ ear, taking lungfuls of Cas’ scent. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Cas opens his eyes slowly. He looks lost and surprised and undone, but when turns his head and sees Dean, something in the dark of his eyes seem to shift. It’s as though he’s seeing Dean for the first time, really seeing him despite his heat and desperation, and his mouth slowly curves upwards up a smile. Dean almost loses his rhythm when he sees that smile.
“I didn’t know,” Cas whispers. Dean almost misses it because Cas is more mouthing the words than saying them. “Dean.”
It’s too much. It’s one thing to deal with the pleasure rolling off him in waves as he plunges in and out of Cas, but it’s another to understand what’s happening here, that Cas is right there with him. Dean has to close his eyes again, one hand tight around Cas’ chest and the other braced against the washing machine, and starts pounding him in him earnest.
Dean fucks him, hard and fast and sharp the way both their bodies want. Every pleasure-thick noise Cas makes is Dean’s reward, because Dean wants this to be good for him – hell, he wants it to be the best Cas has ever had or ever will have. Dean changes his angle and fucks Cas up on to his toes, Cas’ startled scream music to his ears. Cas is so close, muscles spasming around Dean’s cock, he just needs a little bit more.
“Please, please, Dean, please,” Cas chants. Dean growls and clamps his teeth around the soft flesh at the base of Cas’ neck. Cas grabs for Dean’s hand, the one around his chest, and jerkily pushes it down to Cas’ cock.
“You don’t need me to play with you.” Dean smiles against the red of Cas’ skin. He cups the hard length of Cas’ dick, running his fingers up the smooth shaft and pinning it firmly against Cas’ stomach. “You’re gonna come on my knot. That’s all you want, isn’t it, Cas?”
“Yes.” Cas goes still, the pause as brief as heartbeat, and then he’s coming, probably ruining Dean’s eardrums with how hard he cries out.
The world goes white when Dean’s own orgasm hits. Dean’s body is on fire but it’s the good, cleansing type of fire, hot and freeing as it burns Dean from the inside out. He vaguely registers that he’s holding Cas as he rides it, arms wound tight around Cas the way that Cas is squeezing tight around his dick, milking him out and claiming everything he has to give.
It’s beyond fantastic. Dean must’ve fried some synapses, there’s no way the human body can stand that and come out unchanged. By the time Dean’s come back to himself, he’s already knotted inside Cas, the thick base swollen and locked right where it needs to be. Cas is mewling underneath him, arms hanging over the edges of washing machine as he weakly rocks back onto the cock trapped inside him.
Dean pushes a shaky hand across Cas’ neck, baring the skin there for a kiss. The most intense part of his heat has passed, but he still smells great, warm and comfortable. Dean wants to wrap himself up with Cas and just stay here.
It’s some time before Cas stirs with a soft, “Dean.” He coughs, clearing his dry throat. “I owe you an apology, Dean. I didn’t realize you had feelings for me.”
“Feelings?” Dean blinks at the back of Cas’ head. “I don’t – what –”
“I should have known.” Cas sounds upset, almost disappointed, and Dean instinctively wraps his arms around Cas in a firm hug. They shift together in the narrow space, and Cas eventually follows Dean’s lead to lie down on the floor, nestled against each other. “We’ve been friends, and I should have known. I would never want to cause you distress.”
“I’m not distressed.” Dean tugs the knot playfully against Cas’ rim, snickering when Cas lets out a gasp. “I’d say I’m the opposite of distressed.”
“But you’d want to… wouldn’t you want to continue?” Cas turns his head to catch to Dean’s eye. The bright blue that’s Dean’s favorite has come back, and it’s all the more delicious when coupled with the epic sex hair and flushed skin. “Wouldn’t you want us to be more?”
“Cas, quit worrying.” Dean squeezes Cas’ middle for good measure. “I’m not gonna stop being your friend. Sure, it’d be nice if you’d want to try, uh, being something else, but I know you don’t do that because you find people difficult—”
“People are difficult!” Cas grimaces and gives Dean a sheepish look. “But it’s not only that, Dean. You know why. The only time I ever crave sex is during my heats. The rest of the time, I—”
“The rest of the time you’re fine,” Dean snaps. “There’s nothing wrong with you, I told you.”
Cas goes quiet. Dean takes the opportunity to comb through Cas’ hair, gleeful that it’s as soft as it looks.
Dean knows he should be freaking out, but the panic doesn’t come. Instead he feels free, laid bare and relieved because of it. Cas knows how Dean feels, and it’s okay. Maybe it’s the endorphins talking, or the fact that Cas is stroking his fingers curiously along the backs of Dean’s hands. Cas is comfortable being here, sharing this with him, and Dean is so absurdly grateful.
Eventually, Cas says, “I’d make an exception for you.” He pulls Dean’s arms tight against his chest, kissing his hands. “I could try to… I could try.”
That takes a while to sink in. “What? Really?” Dean props himself up on an elbow, moving as far as their tying allows him to, and gapes down at Cas. “You want to give it a go?”
Cas reaches up and cups Dean’s cheek. “Yes. I don’t know what will happen, but you’re the only one I’d want to share this with.”
There’s no way Dean’s heart should still be beating this fast after a rocking orgasm. His chest feels too full, his tongue too clumsy to say what needs to be said. “I’ll be good for you, Cas,” he manages to say. “I’ll be so good.” Dean darts his head down, ignoring the awkward angle to press a firm kiss to Cas’ mouth.
Cas laughs softly, breath warm against Dean’s lips. “You’ve always been good for me, Dean.”
Which has to be one of the best things Dean’s ever heard come out of Cas’ mouth. Dean holds on to him tightly, both of them breathing quietly together as they wait for the knot to come down and the rest of it to start.