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Two Can Play at That Game

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It was a lazy Sunday morning in the bunker and Dean awoke well past noon, rising from a fitful, yet well-deserved sleep. He tied his robe around himself and tiredly padded into the kitchen, his eyes falling upon a messy-haired angel in his Icarus logo Led Zeppelin t-shirt and a cup of coffee in his hands. He didn’t bother to look up at Dean, his eyes skimming the newspaper opened to the obituaries on the table.

“I thought you didn’t drink coffee,” was all he said, reaching to grab the full mug from Castiel. He raised it to his lips and took a sip. The coffee was cold by then and grossly sweetened with honey and he shook his head, setting it back down.

“I don’t.” Cas looked up from the newspaper and his eyes fixated on the small patch of exposed skin on his chest above where the robe tied before finally meeting Dean’s gaze. “How did you sleep?”

“That’s what you’re gonna ask me?” Dean replied, almost offended. “You’re drinking coffee out of my mug wearing my clothes and you ask me how I slept?”

“I like this shirt. It’s very comfortable.” Cas shrugged nonchalantly, returning back to the paper.

Dean sighed and went over to the coffee maker, brewing himself a fresh cup untainted by honey and cream and whatever other crap Cas had stirred into that mug. He grumpily sat back down, his eyes never leaving Castiel’s t-shirt-clad chest.

Cas stood and dumped his leftover coffee into the sink and Dean almost choked on his own coffee upon seeing what else the angel was wearing. Blue and green plaid boxers with the elastic tattered and fraying, causing the material to hang low on his hips. His boxers.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean took a large gulp from his drink, ignoring as the scalding liquid burned his tongue and the back of his throat as it went down.

“Yes?” Cas turned, placing his hands on the back of Dean’s chair.

“Those...are my boxers...” He found himself struggling to speak, the words catching in his throat as the hem of the t-shirt rode up slightly, exposing the angel’s smooth torso and protruding hip bones.

“And this is your robe,” Cas replied, tugging a little at the ties holding Dean’s bathrobe closed.

“What sort of game are we playing?” He cocked his head to the side, confused.

“No, this isn’t a game, Cas.” Dean sighed in exasperation.

“Then what’s the issue?”

“When you wear my things to me...” Dean admitted, a hint of pink slowly creeping up his cheeks.

By then Cas was smirking, the naive facade dropped and he motioned for Dean to stand up from the chair.

“What kinds of things?” He asked softly, his fingers tracing along the hunter’s collarbone and dipping into that patch of exposed flesh.

Dean’s mouth suddenly felt dry and he placed his hands on Cas’ hips, sliding his fingers up the hem of his shirt to press against his warm skin. He didn’t respond, simply stood there as Cas untied his robe completely.

“I thought it was customary for couples to wear each other’s things,” the angel stated, pushing the bathrobe off Dean’s shoulders and watching as it pooled to a heap of fabric on the floor behind him.

“Couples?” Dean asked, his heart beginning to race. Sure, they were a couple. They cuddled, kissed, even had sex on occasion, but had never bothered to define it. They were always just ‘Dean and Cas’ in his eyes.

“That is what we are, yes?” Castiel slid his hands up Dean’s chest and toward his shoulders, gently kneading into the tense muscle and causing him to softly groan. “Your clothes are far more comfortable loungewear than my suit anyway.”

Dean gave a slow nod. “Yes. We uh...we are.” His hands tightened around Cas’ waist.

“Then I see no issue in causing you arousal, Dean.” Cas met Dean’s gaze again, his blue eyes staring intently into green. Slowly, he broke eye contact and his lips pressed against the side of Dean’s neck, making him groan again as the angel’s slightly stubbled cheek caressed his skin.

“We have no obligations today, nowhere to be, no hunts or errands to run. I suggest we begin this new week nicely.”

“Oh, angel, there won’t be anything nice about it.” Dean chuckled, but his laughter was abruptly cut off by a soft cry as Cas bit down on the side of his neck, his teeth grazing across his flesh. “Fuck,” he growled, his head leaning back as Cas’ lips made their way to his collarbone. Castiel backed them slowly out of the kitchen and toward the couch where he shoved Dean back against the cushions.

“Do you still find fault in me wearing your clothes?” Cas asked, straddling Dean’s hips.

Dean slid his fingers beneath the hem of the Zeppelin tee again and nodded, the pads of his fingers massaging Cas’ torso. “Yeah. In fact, I think you should take them off.” He bunched up the shirt, gathering the fabric as he rolled it slowly up Cas’ chest and off over his head.

“Much better.” He smirked, his hands settling back around the angel’s hips and toward the waistband of his boxers. “But these too. Christ, they don’t even fit you.” Dean nudged Cas off his lap and tugged his boxers down, licking his lips as his eyes fell upon his naked form, tanned and smooth.

He motioned the angel forward and Cas returned to his lap, his eyes sparkling with the same innocence Dean had vowed to corrupt and had done so, numerous times. He watched Castiel whine as his hands slid up his inner thighs, his nails raking into and slightly squeezing the pliable flesh.

Cas leaned forward and captured Dean’s lips in a heated kiss, his tongue flicking out across the seam of his lips and entering upon Dean’s prompted moan. They squeezed each other, Dean’s fingers buried in his thighs and Cas’ hands gripping his broad shoulders tightly as their tongues battled for dominance.

A familiar heat spread through Dean, the adrenaline of tasting and feeling his angel mixed with the comforting warmth of their bodies meeting once again was a feeling he’d never fully grow used to. One hand slid up to tangle in the angel’s tousled bedhead, mussing it further as he yanked and Cas’ head went back, Dean drinking in the needy moan that fell from his lips.

Cas’ hands tightened around Dean’s shoulders and he turned him around, then shoved him onto his back and crawled on top of him, recapturing his lips in a greedy, heated kiss. His fingers trailed down Dean’s exposed chest and abdomen, circling around the waistband of his boxers, also frayed and worn from years of use. He slid them down and smirked in slight satisfaction at the erection set free.

“This is what I do to you?” Cas asked, voice dripping still with innocence as his hand wrapped around Dean’s cock and lazily pumped.

“Y-Yes...” Dean replied breathlessly, squeezing his eyes shut as Castiel’s thumb brushed against the velvety head already leaking pre-cum. He knelt down and gave a slow lick, testing the waters and watching his lover squirm beneath him. Dean’s cock was throbbing and warm against his tongue, the salty liquid of his arousal spreading through Cas’ mouth as he pulled back and licked his lips, pleased. But he wasn’t finished. No, he wanted to make Dean squirm, pull every needy, delicious moan from his mouth as he could.

They’d done this enough times now that Cas knew what made him tick, exactly which buttons to press to make his toes curl. Leaning down, the angel spoke softly, just close enough that Dean could taste himself on his lips if they both opened their mouths.

“I’m going to take good care of you, Dean.” He pressed a small kiss at the corner of his lips, tilting his chin back with his index finger. “I’m going to give you everything you crave from me. I see the lust in your eyes, know the hunger you yearn for and I intent to fulfill every last fantasy.”

Dean gulped and nodded, watching as Cas picked up the Led Zeppelin tee and slid it back on. “How do I look in this shirt...and nothing else?”

“Hot,” Dean sputtered, the word coming out involuntarily. “” He reached forward and lifted up the hem of the shirt again as Cas straddled his hips, his tongue flicking out across his lips as he eyed the angel’s cock, hard and pressed against his upper thigh. “My’re...fuck.”

Cas grabbed one of Dean’s legs and pulled it over his waist, scooting forward until their hips were slotted against one another, his cock brushing along Dean’s and eliciting another moan from the hunter. Cas let his finger pool in the fresh bead of pre-cum oozing from Dean and slid it across to his own cock, watching his expression as he began to rock his hips, grinding his erection against Dean’s.

“Oh, fuck!” Dean cried, pushing his own hips desperately upward to meet Cas with every movement. He picked his head up and leaned forward, wrapping a hand around their shafts and pumping both together as Cas’ hips continued to rock back and forth, soft, beautiful grunts in satisfaction emitting from the back of his throat.

“Dean...” Cas let out a whimper, desperate for more friction as the hunter’s hand worked over their cocks relentlessly, pumping his fist from base to head and taking his time to press the pad of his thumb along the underside ridge of Castiel’s cock.

“Yes, angel?” Dean purred, watching him closely to memorize every crinkle in his eyes and contortion of his lips as sounds of pleasure spilled from them and how beautiful he looked with his brunet hair sticking up on all ends and plastered partially to his forehead. He reached up and tugged at the ends of Cas’ hair, curling his fingers around the dark locks and pulling louder moans from his throat.

“Fuck, you sound so perfect.” Dean’s fingers dropped down, tracing across his bottom lip and pulling down slightly, his eyes taking in every reaction.

“Dean, please!” Cas begged, his hips bucking forward impatiently until Dean dropped his hand, bringing the angel flush against him and falling back onto the couch.

Cas took charge again, crashing his lips against Dean’s and kissing him with an aggressive need as he worked his hips furiously, grinding against his twitching cock until Dean couldn’t take it anymore, his release exploding across their stomachs as each moan slipped out into Cas’ mouth.

The angel wasn’t far behind, his hips rutting at a faster and more desperate pace. He pulled back from the kiss, glancing down at his cum-painted stomach and clamping a hand over Dean’s mouth so he couldn’t react as his own orgasm struck him.

Dean watched silently, awestruck as Cas cried out, his head thrown back and mouth agape as Dean’s name was ripped from the back of his throat, adding to the pool semen coating their abdomens. He pulled his hand back and let out a soft gasp, untangling his legs from Dean’s and crawling down between his legs to lap up the mess they’d created.

Dean groaned, his overstimulated cock twitching as Castiel’s tongue cleaned him, dragging over his hips and thighs and finishing by fitting his cock into his mouth, then slowly letting Dean slip out of him with a satisfying pop.

When Cas pulled away and climbed off the couch, Dean couldn’t help but gasp. The only thing hotter than the angel in his Led Zeppelin shirt was Castiel in his Led Zeppelin shirt stained in his own cum.

Cas noticed the expression on his face and gave Dean a small smirk. “I think I’m going to keep this shirt.”

“It’s...all yours...”



Cas made his way into the kitchen in another one of Dean’s shirts the next morning, this one a Metallica tee depicting the scales of justice. To his surprise, Dean was already seated at the kitchen counter, sipping from a cup of coffee.

“Erm, good morning?” Cas posed as a question, confused as to why the hunter was awake so early, then nearly tripping over his own feet as Dean turned around and stood.

“Morning, angel.” Dean’s lips curled into a devilish smile as he popped the collar of his trench coat, wearing nothing but a pair of constricting boxer-briefs beneath. Two could play at that game.

And when Cas drank in the sight with wild eyes, then sank to his knees before Dean in a matter of seconds, glancing up at him and licking his lips, this was a game Dean knew he’d won.