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Beautiful, Dirty, Itch

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“Anything.” The words spill from Cas’ mouth, which is red and wet from kissing, but the eyes above are sharp and clear. “Anything you want.”

“We can take it slow, there’s no rush…” Dean trails off at the look Cas gives him. They both know that isn’t true, and it’s just plain stupid to pretend otherwise.

There’s no telling when they’ll be able to do this again with the world crumbling to pieces all around them, and Dean hates, just hates, that it took him so damn long to get here at all. All that time wasted, and he can’t blame Cas, because the angel’s education in human emotions is far from complete; he doesn’t know the weight of those looks and touches and choices they’ve made together, let alone how to get to the destination they were always meant to go.

“Okay,” Dean says, clamping down on the sudden rush low in his stomach – this is Cas’ first time, not his, for crying out loud, “Clothes off.”

Cas complies – like there was ever any doubt that he would – quickly and efficiently, only frowning at the buttons for a second before figuring out how they work. Dean, on the hand, pretty much just shoves everything off, all speed and nothing sexy about it all, which is fine, because that means he’s naked first and gets to help pull Cas’ socks and pants off.

God, that’s a lot of bare skin. It’s almost a shock to the senses after seeing Cas bundled up like a nun for well over two years, but Dean gets over it, because there’s stuff they need to get down to.

Like kissing. There’s plenty of kissing, and Cas is really into it, eyes lazy and drugged while his mouth follows Dean’s wherever he goes. It’s all teeth and tongues and spit, with none of Dean’s usual finesse, but he can’t be fucked to care because this is Cas clawing restlessly at his shoulders like he can’t get close enough.

Fuck, Dean is painfully hard. He could get off just like this, rubbing up against Cas and it’d be great, but not what he wants right now. He wants to savor, to make it linger and last and break down every last vestige of Cas’ prim and proper shell to what Dean just knows is underneath.

“On your stomach,” Dean growls. “Now.”

Cas makes a disappointed sound, not liking that the kissing has to stop, but he obeys anyway. Dean watches as he arranges himself, probably not having a clue how he looks like a banquet on the sheets, skin and flesh ripe for the tasting.

Dean spares a few seconds trailing his hands up Cas’ knobbly legs, smirking to himself as goosebumps rise in their wake. A gentle shove and Cas immediately parts his legs – so obedient – wide, wider, as wide as they can go, until Dean has enough space to settle in between and lick a long, wet stripe along one of the round cheeks.

Cas makes a surprised noise, which turns into a gasp when Dean presses teeth against the yielding flesh, tongue laving skin as it travels its journey along the smoothness. It’s such a pretty ass, and when Dean’s fingers get a good grip to part the cheeks, there’s a pretty hole to admire, clenching shyly when Dean stares at it.

A pang of hunger hits so sharply Dean almost reels, so he’s immediately lowering himself down, tongue flicking at the pucker.

Cas makes a choked, desperate sound, whole body shivering.

“Yeah, didn’t know it could feel like that, did you?” Dean says, just before he gets back to work.

He goes slow, gentle laves of his tongue against the wrinkled opening, grinning whenever it clenches because he knows it’s going to be so goddamn tight when he finally gets around to fucking it. He’s thinking about that with each slow drag of his tongue on the skin, getting it slick and shiny, and then experimentally pressing the tip of his tongue against the opening. He can’t get inside that way because it’s just too tight, so he sucks a finger into his mouth, getting it good and wet, before pushing it in.

Oh.

Cas’ hole isn’t just tight; it’s hungry. It clenches around his finger, trying to drag more in, even when Dean’s gone all the way up to his second knuckle. He keeps the finger there, thrusting gently in and out to loosen it up some, while he continues to lick the skin around it, enjoying the way Cas gasps whenever his tongue touches the skin that’s drawn tight around his finger, likes there’s too much sensation for him to enjoy at once.

Cas moves. When Dean looks up, Cas hands have drifted down to grab his own ass cheeks and pull them apart, happily baring himself.

Dean can’t help but laugh softly when a second finger joins the first easily, like Cas was always meant to do this – always meant to let Dean do this. He lets his mouth trail down, sucking the skin of Cas’ balls before coming back up and – after pulling his fingers out sharply – shoving his tongue in their place.

Dean!” Cas keens, high and desperate.

Dean’s mouth is full so he can’t reply, so he stiffens his tongue and pushes in as far as he can go. It’s not very far, but enough to twist and curl, and then lowering his lips round the pucker to suck as hard as he can.

“Dean, I’m going to—”

Dean pulls away immediately, and brings down a palm to smack his ass firmly. “Not yet, Cas.”

“Uh—” He shifts on the sheets, restless.

“I said not yet.

Cas sighs and stills as best as he can, though his breaths are sharp when he inhales. Dean strokes his lower back as he calms down, feeling smug as hell that he could’ve gotten Cas off just like that, tongue up his ass – which, maybe later, if they get the chance.

“Okay, roll over,” Dean says.

Cas still obeys, but shakily, like he’s forgotten how to work his body. When he does finally turn over, Dean has to pause and stare, because Cas – Cas looks dirty. Eyes wild, mouth open and panting, skin all flushed, and, Jesus fucking Christ, his stomach wet and shiny with pre-come oozing from his hard red cock.

Dean trails a finger through the pre-come, even as more drops fall from where Cas’ erection has curled up to his stomach, and drags it across Cas’ chin. Cas doesn’t even blink, still staring at Dean like he’s trapped in that place on the edge of orgasm and doesn’t have anything left to give.

Cas doesn’t move beyond the occasional full-body shiver, leaving Dean free to find lube and use it, two fingers and then three plunging into the familiar tightness of Cas’ hot little opening, the only part of him that’s still reacting to anything.

“Your legs, lift ‘em up,” Dean says.

The reaction is slow, Cas grabbing the backs of his knees and pulling his legs up, unaware of how fucking obscene it is when he does that, opening himself like an offering, a dessert, just for Dean to enjoy.

Dean looks down at the hole: it’s wet from lube and a little red from the finger-fucking, but it also looks ready. Ready for him, like everything else about Cas.

Some careful maneuvering and Dean presses the head of his cock against the rim, and suddenly, he’s in.

It’s every bit as tight and hot as Dean knew it would be, and then some. He wants to enjoy this, even as every muscle in his body screams to just bury himself inside and fuck them both silly, so he pushes away that instinct and forces himself to ease in slowly. It’s amazing to see how Cas’s skin stretches tight around his dick, taking him in bit by bit, so he stops and just looks.

“Dean,” Cas whines.

“Wait, I want to—”

Now, Dean,” Cas insists, and he shoves his hips up, impaling himself on more of Dean’s cock.

“Shit!” Dean tries to get his leverage back, but Cas is hungry for it.

Though the owner may not know how these things work, the body does, and Cas’ ass – fuck, Cas’ hole is almost like a little mouth, sucking him in like it wants to swallow him whole. It’s so greedy, pinching down insane tight every time Dean tries to pull out.

It isn’t fair. Cas isn’t even touching Dean – his hands are still under his knees to keep his thighs up against his chest – but Dean’s quickly losing it, the only contact point between their bodies tight beyond belief, dragging all the pleasure Dean has to offer.

As they shove against each other, Dean gets his hands on Cas’ body, determined to drive him crazy, but he quickly realizes that Cas is already there. His eyes are lost and unseeing, body moving on autopilot as he shoves his hips up with every one of Dean’s thrusts down, the rapid rut of their bodies other causing Cas’ cock to bounce and send more pre-come flying everywhere.

Suddenly, Cas says a soft, “Oh,” and then he’s squeezing down hard as he comes. At first Dean’s pissed, Cas should be noisier than that during an orgasm, but then he realizes that Cas is quiet because he has lost the ability to make noise – his mouth is open wide in a silent scream, but the throat behind it is locked shut.

So Cas thrashes noiselessly, come flying everywhere. The sight alone will fuel Dean’s wet dreams for a long time to come, but then Cas’ inner muscles suddenly spasm around him he’s coming, too – desperately, angrily, sharper than it has ever been – while Cas milks him of everything he’s worth.

“Damn, fuck, shit…” Dean mutters, a lifetime later when he finally gets his breath back.

Cas’ fingers touch his face, drawing Dean’s up to his eyes. “Dean.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“I think I…” Cas looks a little embarrassed.

Dean frowns, and then follows Cas’ gaze down.

Cas is still hard.

Motherfucker.