Castiel has used Real Alpha since he was old enough to afford it. They’re a reputable company, and have never disappointed: every few months, Castiel calls in to an automated system to make his request, and within hours, there’s an alpha knocking on his door to fuck the heat out of him. He doesn’t care who it is, what they look like, how much stamina they have, whether they are angels or humans. It’s just an ends to a mean.
March, with spring and summer swapping custody of the weather, Michael shows up. Castiel is sure this isn’t his real name -- it never is -- but it doesn’t matter because he’s the most gorgeous person Castiel has ever seen.
“Hello, Michael,” Castiel says, his voice pitched a little higher than usual.
“Heya, Castiel,” Michael says, offering an easy grin. He’s in a leather jacket over an unbuttoned flannel shirt over a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. His jeans are torn and the boots on his feet are well-worn, well-loved.
“Come in,” Castiel says after too long of a pause.
He steps out of the doorway and Michael enters the townhouse, looking around without hiding his curiosity. Finally, his eyes land back on Castiel and he approaches, his gait swift and sure. Just inside Castiel’s personal space, he stops, looking down at him with eyes the color of fresh grass. “You smell real good, Cas,” he says.
“You too,” Castiel says, his voice still high. It’s not that he’s never had attractive alphas before, they’ve just never… smelled like this. Looked like this. Looked at Castiel like they wanted their hands all over him, and not just because it’s their job.
“Can I kiss you?”
This is absolutely against Castiel’s rules, and Michael should know that from his profile with Real Alpha. Though Castiel wants to break this rule pretty badly, he says, “No.”
Michael shrugs. “Where do you want to do this?”
Without words, Castiel leads Michael to the guest bedroom. He’d like to do this somewhere even less intimate than a bed, but it’s the easiest clean-up, and Cas really doesn’t want to ruin his nice couch. No ceremony, no foreplay, Cas just pulls off his lounge pants and climbs into the bed on hands and knees, presenting. This whole thing is so humiliating.
“Gonna take your shirt off?” Michael says.
“No,” Castiel replies harshly. “Didn’t you read my profile? You’re not allowed to touch me any more than is strictly necessary for this.”
“Just thought you might want to enjoy it a bit is all,” Michael says.
Castiel scowls but doesn’t reply, just listens to the rustle of fabric behind him as Michael undresses, the sound of skin-on-skin as he jerks himself into full hardness.
The bed dips as Michael joins Castiel. Almost gently, he slides his finger in between Castiel’s cheeks to brush across his hole.
“Don’t -- touch -- me,” Castiel says through gritted teeth. “Just fuck me and get it over with.”
“Yes sir,” Michael says cheekily.
Castiel hears the rip of a k-condom package, designed specifically for people with knots. Castiel almost forgot about this part, so distracted by Michael’s beauty, so he’s grateful Michael remembered.
Castiel closes his eyes as he feels the blunt head of Michael’s cock up against his wet hole. Slowly, Michael presses into him. He’s big, even for an alpha, and Castiel cringes at the stretch. Stupid rules, should’ve let Michael finger him. But that kind of intimate touch leads to other kinds of touches, and Castiel does not want those other types of touches.
Michael grabs his hips and, suddenly, starts to fuck him hard and fast. It’s just what Castiel’s heat wants, and he finds himself moaning out loud.
“Yeah,” Michael says, “let me hear you.”
“Don’t talk,” Castiel says, and Michael falls silent.
From there on it’s just the sound of Michael’s balls slapping against him, the wet squelch of every thrust. Michael smells so incredible, like the center pages of a good book, and his hips know exactly how to bring Castiel pleasure, so Castiel comes fast. Michael’s hips falter as Castiel tightens around him, and then he’s pulling out without waiting for his own orgasm.
“Done already?” Castiel says.
“You said to only touch you as much as necessary,” Michael says. “You came, so I don’t have to touch you anymore.”
Castiel is panting. “Thank you,” he says.
He hears Michael putting his clothes back on. “I’ll see you in six hours,” Michael says, and he lets himself out.
For the first time -- ever -- the hours can’t pass quickly enough. Castiel spends most of them wondering if he should break some of his rules for Michael, though remembering the reason he doesn’t let anyone take his shirt off sobers him. Of course he’s not going to let Michael touch him. The last thing he needs is the look on Michael’s face when he finds out how damaged Castiel is.
Michael is prompt, three minutes early, and he goes immediately back to the guest bedroom. “Same thing?” he says, dropping his jacket on the floor.
“Yes,” Cas says. Michael looks disappointed and Castiel feels disappointed and it’s stupid for both of them to be feeling this way, but Castiel… can’t possibly.
This time Michael doesn’t bother with getting naked, just peels his jeans down his thighs and fucks Castiel with the button pressing uncomfortably against Castiel’s skin.
“How long do your heats usually last?” Michael asks as he zips his jeans around his still-hard cock.
“What’s the difference? You get paid for every interaction, do you not?”
“Just curious how much time I’ll have with you.”
It’s a strange thing to say. “About three days.”
“K. I’ll see you in six hours.”
Castiel tosses and turns in his own bed, trying to get some sleep but inevitably too turned on to make it work. He ends up jerking off twice, but it’s nothing like an alpha cock inside of him and ultimately leaves him unsatisfied.
Michael is like clockwork until Castiel calls the service and lets them know he won’t need any further assistance. He could really probably use another session or two, but he’s discomfited by his internal reactions to Michael. Something about his eyes, his mouth, his swagger. Castiel would like to know what that mouth would feel like on his body.
Over the next three months, Castiel thinks too much about whether he’ll request Michael again or just go with some random alpha like he’s always done before. Requests can’t always be granted anyway. Would Michael know if he specifically requested him versus just coming up next in the line-up to take an omega? What if Michael is already with another one when Castiel comes into heat?
It really is a particularly stupid line of thought. But when Castiel’s heat comes back around, he decides to request Michael in the end.
The woman -- an actual human -- on the other end of the phone line hums in response to his request. “Let me check his schedule… He’s with someone else right now, but we can get him to you in three hours. Is that ok or would you rather have someone else now?”
Something twists in Castiel’s gut. This means Michael could be sharing time with Castiel and another omega for the next several days. When will Michael sleep?
This is another stupid thing to wonder about.
Castiel decides to go with Michael. His heat is flaring hot in his belly, worse than usual, but he can wait a few hours.
When Michael arrives, Castiel takes a rare moment to just drink him in, the alpha old-book smell of him, the color of his eyes, the gold of his skin. He really is beautiful, and Castiel should feel lucky to have him. But Castiel mostly feels annoyed that this alpha could affect him so.
“No touching?” Michael says.
“No touching,” Castiel confirms, and he could swear that Michael looks disappointed again. It’s just that Castiel has secrets, and he’s not going to bare them all to a stranger that fucks for a living. It’s not that he denigrates the profession, it’s just that he understands the limits. Michael will be here every six hours, but only when Castiel is willing to pay, and so their interactions mean nothing to Michael.
MIchael shows up in just a t-shirt, stripped down in the June heat. Castiel tries not to look at his body, tries not to catalogue the curves and hard lines of it, but it’s tough when Michael approaches him with a feral grin, chasing him back towards the guest bedroom. Castiel has never pulled off his pants faster, and his back arches more than usual when he climbs on the bed. He blames it on his heat, the alpha coming later than usual to satiate him.
Michael doesn’t touch Castiel anywhere but his hips to guide his thrusts, and he doesn’t come, just pulls out once Castiel has had his orgasm (it destroys him like an ocean riptide, arriving so fast he doesn’t know what’s hit him).
As Michael is re-buttoning his pants, Castiel pulls his own back on and turns to face him. “Do you ever orgasm with your clients?” Castiel asks.
“Usually,” Michael says casually. “You’re the only one so far that doesn’t want to be touched.”
But Castiel does want to be touched. He craves it more than anything else, and maybe that’s why he doesn’t let anyone do it, because he would lose his mind if Michael actually touched him. Especially with those eyes and those hands and that soft stomach.
“You see a lot of omegas?” Castiel asks, not sure why he is torturing himself this way.
“I keep busy,” Michael says, smirking a little. “Why, you jealous?”
Castiel is not jealous. He’s just curious. That’s what he tells himself.
“Not at all. I’ll see you at ten.”
“Yes sir,” Michael says, still smirking, and he heads out the door.
Ten is too soon and too far all at once. Castiel has to take care of himself before that, of course, because every six hours is not nearly enough to handle his heat fully, but he has fake knots and it’s almost second nature to fuck himself on them, hardly needing a real alpha at all.
But when Michael arrives, Castiel does the unthinkable: “Knot me this time.”
“It’s like that, huh?” Michael says, grinning. Castiel just leads him to the bedroom.
The problem with being knotted is that you end up, well, knotted . Stuck with each other for a quarter of an hour or so, both partners coming over and over, and it’s intimate . Castiel has been knotted before, of course, but never by a servicer from Real Alpha, only with actual lovers.
“Don’t get too close,” Castiel says, a warning note in his tone.
Michael leans his upper body as far away as he can, considering the situation, though their legs still tangle together. When Michael presses his hips forward to grind into Castiel again, they both come, gasping. Castiel had forgotten how overwhelming -- and exhausting -- it is to be knotted, to have so many orgasms in such a short period.
“You ok?” Michael says as Castiel shudders through another, unexpected orgasm.
“Peachy keen,” Castiel says, which is something he picked up from his mother who picked it up from his grandmother. He’s not sure what it even means.
“We didn’t knot during your last heat,” Michael says curiously.
“Do you knot most of your omegas?”
“No one is ‘my’ anything. Some clients like it and some don’t. Never would’ve pegged you to be in the ‘liking it’ category.”
“I don’t like it,” Castiel says, “but it helps.”
Michael puts his hand on Castiel’s bicep, over his t-shirt sleeve. “Cas,” he says.
“That’s not my name.”
“You should relax a little. This could be fun, you know?”
Castiel frowns, glaring daggers at the wall. “This is a business transaction. Nothing more.”
Still, Michael’s hand slides down his arm all the way to his wrist and just gently lays it there, his arm now around Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t have it within him to complain. Not when Michael’s scent is flooding his senses, lulling him into a kind of complacency Castiel swore he would never feel.
At four a.m., Michael shows up with dark circles under his eyes, clearly dead on his feet. “Why are you here?” Castiel says.
Michael falters on his way in the door. He digs his phone out of his pocket and looks at it. “Did you cancel…? I didn’t get a text.”
“No, I meant, because you look like hell. You need rest.”
“Worried about me, Castiel?” Michael teases, his cheeky grin back, lighting up his face despite the tired eyes.
“Maybe,” Castiel grumbles.
“If we’re knotting again, I’m taking my clothes off, if that’s cool.”
“Whatever you need.”
“Hmm,” Michael says. He approaches Castiel with that loping gait of his, stopping so they stand toe to toe, inches apart. “I need you.”
Castiel laughs, dry and hoarse. “I bet you tell that to all your omegas.”
“Toldja, no one is ‘mine.’ And no, I don’t tell that to all of them. Just the special ones.”
Castiel rolls his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”
Stripping off his clothes in the bedroom, Michael glances at Castiel and says, forced-casual, “Is it cool if we do this face-to-face? I want to see you.”
Castiel almost says what you want doesn’t matter , but he bites his tongue and instead says, “If you insist.”
Watching the way Michael’s muscles bunch and release as he fucks into Castiel is a type of torture, as is the way he bites his lip and flutters his eyelashes right before he comes, and Castiel regrets nearly instantly agreeing to do it like this. It’s not a broken rule, but it is an unspoken one: it’s too close, too much, to be breathing someone’s air, especially while tied together.
They are nose to nose, Castiel’s leg thrown over Michael’s thigh. “Hard not to kiss you,” Michael says sleepily.
Castiel is still trying to come up with a response when he realizes Michael has dozed off. It’s almost sweet, the way his features relax and the smirk lines smooth out from the corners of his eyes and mouth. He’s striking like this, more pretty than handsome, and Castiel finds it difficult not to kiss, too.
As soon as his knot goes down, Michael wakes. “Shit,” he says, “I fell asleep. That’s fucked up, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. You must be exhausted.”
Michael smiles wanly. “A little.”
“When is your next appointment?”
“Couple of hours.”
Brash and impulsive, Castiel says, “You can stay here and sleep if that will help.”
Michael’s eyebrows raise. “That’s real sweet, Cas, but I’ve got to go home and shower. Thanks for the offer. I’ll see you at ten.”
Michael sees himself out, and Castiel manages to get in the shower before collapsing in his own bed. He dreams about green eyes.
Michael looks a little better at 9:57 a.m. Castiel, on the other hand, is a fevered mess, his hair sticking up on one side where he slept on it wet, hands shaking with need.
“Michael,” Castiel says, and drags him by the hand to the guest bedroom.
“You ok, darlin’?”
“Need you,” Castiel says, panting. He pulls his pants off with zero grace and gets on the bed, hands and knees.
The sound of Michael’s zipper going down makes fresh slick wet between Castiel’s thighs. He wants , worse than he ever has. He goes down on his elbows to better show off his ass, and Michael makes an appreciative noise behind him. “Look at you,” he whispers, then goes silent.
Castiel keens when Michael enters him, drops down on his shoulders so he can reach a hand back and grip Michael’s thigh.
“Harder,” Castiel says, and Michael obliges, his hands tight on Castiel’s hips, guiding him back and forth with his thrusts.
It’s either forever or only moments before Castiel comes, hard and messy, and then it’s another forever-or-just-moments while Michael fucks him through it before his knot catches and he’s coming deep inside Castiel. They are both out of breath and sweating.
Castiel is boneless, still swimming in orgasmic pleasure, so he only notes in the vaguest way when Michael shifts them onto their sides, but the shift causes Michael’s knot to pull at Castiel’s rim and he comes again, crying out this time.
Castiel reaches backwards to grab Michael’s hair, pulling him closer until his face is tucked up against Castiel’s neck. Hesitantly, Michael leaves a kiss there. “Your heat is really bad,” Michael murmurs. “I can smell it. You’re going to need me again sooner than six hours.”
Castiel nods, because he would agree to anything Michael said right now, the smell of him overwhelming and so sensual as it washes over Castiel. Castiel has never had this kind of reaction to a stranger, much less one he’s paying to fuck him, but there it is. And they haven’t even kissed.
“My other client is out of heat so I can come back whenever,” Michael says.
“You could stay,” Castiel says hazily. Michael is quiet long enough that Castiel starts to flush in embarrassment. Clients probably ask for more of Michael’s time constantly, like he owes them something just because they’ve fucked. “I’m sorry,” Castiel says. “That was an inconsiderate request.”
“No, it’s fine,” Michael says against Castiel’s neck. “I need a shower and food, but we could shower together and then I could run and get something.”
Castiel tenses. “No,” he says, “you’ll shower alone.”
“No shower sex?” Michael says, grinning.
“No,” Castiel says. He hopes his tone makes it clear this is not up for debate.
“That’s cool,” Michael says. “Shower sex is complicated.”
But Cas can imagine the way Michael would look with water raining down on him, catching in his eyelashes, finding trails to run between and around muscles. He would be beautiful like that. Castiel would get on his knees and worship him.
Castiel’s fantasy is interrupted as Michael pulls out of him. Castiel instantly feels empty and needy, wanting him back, wanting everything , and he whimpers at the loss.
“Did I hurt you?” Michael says.
Castiel says, “No, just…”
“Still want me?”
“Yes,” Castiel says, shamed.
Michael nuzzles up against his neck and says, softly, into his ear, “I still want you too.” Then he pulls away, tosses the condom, and says, “Who gets the shower first?”
“There are two of them. If we’re quick we’ll both get hot water. The bathroom is --”
“I saw it.”
“Towels are in there,” Cas says.
“Cool. I’ll see you in a jiffy.”
Castiel just takes a couple minutes to lay there, still basking in afterglow, eyes closed and wishing Michael was still touching him. Wishing he could have Michael’s hands all over him, even the places he hides under too-big t-shirts and badly fitted blazers. Wishing Michael could see all of him and not react in disgust.
Michael finishes showering before Castiel even gets up. “Hey, you ok?” Michael says. He is still toweling off his hair, glorious in his nudity.
“Yes,” Castiel says with a sigh.
“i’m, uh, just going to run to Culver’s for a burger. What do you want?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Michael leans over the bed, strokes Castiel’s hair out of his face with a gentle hand. “You gotta eat, man.”
“Get me whatever you’re getting then.”
“Ok.” Michael caresses Castiel’s cheek again, then turns to grab his clothes.
Castiel manages a shower, though he is shaking and sweating as soon as he gets out. Michael shows up with a couple bags of greasy burgers and fries and juggling two milkshakes. They sit at Castiel’s little dining room table and eat in comfortable silence.
Michael eats fast and rudely, like he’s afraid the food will disappear if he doesn’t ingest it fast enough. Castiel is a little nauseous so he only finishes half of his burger and fries, but sucks happily on the shake until it’s gone.
“Thank you,” Castiel says, collecting the trash.
As Castiel stands at the sink getting a glass of water, Michael comes up behind him, sliding his hands around Castiel’s hips to his belly. “Hey, beautiful,” he says. “You want my cock again, don’t you?”
Castiel flushes down to his chest. “Yes,” he says.
Michael’s mouth up against Castiel’s ear, he says, “I could fuck you right here.” Castiel shivers. “I can smell you wet for me, you know.”
“I know,” Castiel whispers. Because he can smell Michael’s arousal, too, even more intense than the feeling of it up against his ass, dulled by two layers of clothing. “But let’s go to the bedroom.”
Michael steps back and Castiel leads him to the bedroom. This time Michael fucks Castiel slow and deep, ignoring when Castiel begs for more, just wringing pleasure out of him at a leisurely pace designed to taunt his heat without completely satiating it.
“ Please , Michael,” Castiel says, hands gripping the sheets, white-knuckled.
Michael says, “Just enjoy it, sweetheart.”
Castiel closes his eyes. His breath is coming out in gasps, every stroke of Michael’s cock bringing him just the tiniest bit closer to release. Castiel’s own cock is impossibly hard, red and thick beneath him.
“Michael,” Castiel moans.
“I’ll make you a deal,” Michael says. Castiel can feel his knot starting to swell, starting to tease at catching inside him. “I’ll give you what you want if you give me one kiss.”
It’s not fair. Castiel can’t possibly be expected to remember his rules in this situation, when he needs so badly to come but can’t quite get there. Still, he says, “Ok.”
Michael gives a little growl behind him and Castiel is even wetter, and then Michael is fucking him fast and hard and deep and his hands are rough holding on to Castiel’s hips and Castiel comes with a loud cry.
Like Castiel’s noises make Michael crazy, Michael’s thrusts become erratic and even harder, and then Castiel can feel him coming in hot spurts, even through the condom. Michael’s knot has caught and they don’t move for a long moment, just catching their breath.
“Wow,” Michael says. He starts to run his hand up Castiel’s shirt-covered back, then seems to remember himself and pulls his hand away. Castiel doesn’t even have the wherewithal to admonish him.
Carefully, even stronger than he looks, Michael lays them down and slings his arm over Castiel’s middle.
Michael says into the quiet, “I didn’t mean it. Of course you don’t have to kiss me.”
“Ok,” Castiel says.
“To be honest, I would really like it if you did, though.”
They’re quiet until Michael’s knot goes down and they can separate.
Castiel doesn’t kiss him.
Castiel’s heat comes early, and he can’t stay away from Michael. Luckily, this time Michael’s schedule is wide open, and he shows up quickly. When Castiel opens the door, Michael has his hands in his pockets and is looking up at him through his eyelashes like a little boy.
Castiel does not find it incredibly endearing.
“You’re early,” Michael says. “It’s only been, what, 9 weeks?”
“You keep track of my heat cycle?” Castiel asks.
Michael actually blushes. “Nah,” he says. “Just noticed it on your profile, saw the last time I was here. Hasn’t been that long, has it?”
“I guess it hasn’t.”
Actually, it’s felt like forever. Castiel has never in his life wished for his heat to come, but he found himself looking forward to it. He’d imagined what Michael might wear as summer turned to fall. He’d imagined him beautiful and a little rugged in a flannel shirt again. He’d wondered if Michael owns any jackets besides the brown leather one he’s sweating in now.
Michael steps forward, puts his hand on Castiel’s face as if to guide him into a kiss, then stops and drops his hand. “Sorry,” he says, “I keep forgetting.”
Castiel feels faint, all his limbs tingling. “It’s ok.”
“It’s ok that I keep forgetting or it’s ok if I kiss you?”
Michael nods, disappointed. Castiel feels like an asshole for putting that look on his face.
“You don’t smell as bad as last time,” Michael says. “Err, wait, I don’t mean you smell bad -- not at all, you smell -- fuck. I mean your heat doesn’t seem as bad.”
Castiel is still coherent even. Last time, he was out of his mind needing Michael as soon as he walked in the door. Over and over for days, until they passed out wrapped up in each other, while Michael kept bringing Castiel food and making sure he had enough water and tucking him in under the blankets to keep the chills at bay. Castiel has never been taken care of by an alpha before, had no idea how much he craves it.
“Still,” Castiel says, “I’m sure you’re ready to get out of here.”
Michael cocks an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”
“It’s just a job,” Castiel says. “I know that.”
Michael puts his hand on Castiel’s face again, stroking his thumb across Castiel’s cheekbone. “It’s not always just a job,” he says.
Castiel looks away.
“I want to know what you taste like.” Michael leans forward, putting his mouth right next to Castiel’s ear, so Castiel can feel his breath. “I want to lick you open until you beg for my cock. You’re so gorgeous when you beg.”
Castiel shivers. No one has ever done that to him before. Not that he’s had a lot of experience out of his quick heat fucks with alphas from Real Alpha. There are things that stop people from wanting him. But Michael… god, Michael. His beautiful mouth.
“Ok,” Castiel says.
“Yeah?” Michael says, surprised.
“Yes,” Castiel says. “Please.”
The guest bedroom is pristine as always. “Do you really sleep in here?” Michael asks as he undresses. “It’s so…”
Michael frowns. “Sterile.”
“It’s an extra bedroom. My actual bedroom is slightly less ‘sterile.’” Castiel makes finger quotes and Michael laughs. He’s laughing at Castiel but it’s a gentle tease and it warms inside Castiel’s chest.
“Why aren’t we in your bedroom?”
It’s too personal. “Easier clean-up.”
Michael nods like that’s a good enough reason. “Take off your pants,” he says, “and present for me.”
If it weren’t Michael, Castiel would be humiliated by the request, by the quickness he responds to it, but Michael’s deep voice does something to Castiel, so he is in the bed with his ass in the air in record time.
Castiel looks over his shoulder and sees Michael lick his lips, faltering for a short moment before he reaches forward and gently parts Castiel’s ass cheeks.
“Fuck,” Michael murmurs. “I can really…?”
“Yes,” Castiel says.
Michael starts with a long, flat-tongued lick from just behind Castiel’s balls all the way to the small of his back. Castiel gasps and Michael says, “Christ, you taste good.”
And then Michael’s quiet, because his tongue becomes quite busy sliding through Castiel’s slick, the noises obscene as he licks and laps at Castiel’s hole. Castiel is a writhing mess almost immediately, eyes fluttering closed and breathing harsh.
The first time Michael’s tongue is actually inside Castiel, Castiel moans and, without being aware of it, pushes backwards into Michael’s face. Michael pulls away, bites one of Castiel’s cheeks sharply, and says, “None of that. Just let me take care of you.”
Castiel’s frustrated groan is cut off as Michael’s tongue is back on his hole, licking long and slow, and Castiel has never been wetter in his life. At some point Michael started making these pleased humming noises against him, and Castiel can feel the vibrations move up into his spine and make a home there.
When Castiel looks over his shoulder again, Michael is touching himself while he mouths at Castiel, just slow strokes that match the carefulness of his wicked tongue. It shouldn’t turn Castiel on but it does, the idea that Michael can’t keep his hands off himself while pleasuring him.
A wave of wanting hits Castiel like a brick wall, and he says, “Please, Michael. Need you.”
“That’s your best beg?” Michael says. One of his fingers slide through the slick dripping from Castiel’s hole and circles, just the barest hint of pressure. “Can I finger you?”
“Yes,” Castiel says, clenching his hands in the sheets.
A single finger slides into him and twists, pumps in and out a few times, and then a second joins it. Castiel pushes back onto Michael’s hand, needing more, moaning with abandon, especially when Michael’s tongue joins his fingers, licking around the rim of Castiel’s hole while Michael’s fingers find the sweet spot inside him and rub .
“Michael,” Castiel groans, “more, please, more -- more -- please --”
“There you go,” Michael says, adding a third finger.
“Need you to fuck me,” Castiel says. “Please, Michael.”
Michael keeps fucking Castiel with his fingers, but now his mouth goes to Castiel’s ass cheeks, kissing and biting and sucking, then he slides up Castiel’s shirt to get to Castiel’s lower back, kissing up his spine, and then --
“No!” Castiel says, jerking away and spinning around, his erection a ridiculous embarrassment as he hides his back from Michael’s prying eyes and mouth.
Michael puts his hands up, placating, and backs away from Castiel. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he says. “Are you ok?”
“ No ,” Castiel says. “I told you -- no touching --” Michael looks ridiculously confused, and Castiel can’t really blame him. Castiel takes careful breaths, trying to calm his heartbeat. “I broke my rules for you and that was a mistake.”
“Ok,” Michael says. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand; Castiel can see the fingers of his other hand shining with slick. “I’m real sorry, Cas. I can have RA send someone else if --”
“I can’t wait. Just don’t --”
“No touching,” Michael says. “I got it.”
He climbs back into the bed, between the V of Castiel’s legs, slowly so Castiel has the chance to pull away if he needs to. “Are you ok?”
“Yes,” Castiel says, though he can feel the phantom pain on his back, where his wings should be, where his entire self was taken. It takes his breath away and he squeezes his eyes closed against it.
Castiel can feel Michael’s eyes on him, can practically feel the worry, but he doesn’t open his own eyes to see. Instead he just breathes deep, trying to keep himself relaxed, as Michael guides his cock into Castiel’s hole. His heat doesn’t care about anything that’s happening; it’s just a deep need inside him that Michael can sate.
“Hey,” Michael says, starting to thrust in and out of him almost gently, “look at me.”
Castiel opens his eyes because it would be childish not to. Michael’s eyes are wide, so green, and earnest, staring down at him and searching. They aren’t judgmental but soft and almost fond.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, leaning down to kiss Castiel’s forehead. “I didn’t mean to break your rules.”
Castiel doesn’t say anything. Michael doesn’t touch him anywhere but the place where they are joined, doesn’t knot him, puts his clothes on fast when they are done.
“When do you need me again?” Michael says while Castiel pulls his pants on.
“The usual is fine.”
“See you later tonight then,” Michael says, and does something similar to fleeing out the door.
A couple hours later, Castiel gets a phone call. “I’m sorry, Castiel, but Michael has a scheduling conflict and won’t be able to meet you for your eleven p.m. appointment. Would you like us to send another alpha?”
Castiel swallows. “Yes, please,” he manages to say, though everything in him -- mind, body, and soul -- screams at the wrongness of the idea.
“Zeke will see you at eleven! Thank you for your flexibility, Mr. Milton.”
Zeke is pretty much all wrong: he may be the right height, but his cheekbones are too sculpted, the hollows beneath them too pronounced, and his eyes are gray-blue instead of spring green, and his skin is the wrong tone, and he’s clean-shaven. No spattering of freckles across his nose. He’s not like Michael at all.
Castiel welcomes Zeke into his home, saying, “Did you read my profile?”
“Yes. No touching, no kissing, in and out and done. I can do that for you even if Michael couldn’t.”
Castiel pauses on the way to the bedroom, turning to face Zeke. “What do you mean? About Michael?”
Zeke shrugs. “He’s not here, is he?”
Castiel wants to ask more, his heat suddenly half-forgotten, but Zeke crowds him back into the bedroom and before long Castiel has a cock that isn’t Michael’s inside him, hands the wrong size gripping his hips, the wrong smell making him sick to his stomach.
Zeke doesn’t knot him and is true to his word, leaving immediately after coming. Castiel locks the door behind him and crawls into bed.
“I need to see Michael,” Castiel says.
The cheery voice on the other end of the line says, “Let me see if he’s available.” There’s a clacking of keys, and then she continues, “Shouldn’t be a problem to get him out there if you can wait approximately four hours.”
Heat flares in Castiel’s belly at the thought of Michael. “Yes, of course.”
Michael is looking at his boots like they are particularly interesting when Castiel opens the door. “I didn’t think you’d want me back,” Michael says.
“DId you really have a ‘scheduling conflict’ last time? Is that why Zeke came?”
Michael looks up, scowling. “They sent Zeke ? Was he -- was it ok?”
“It was fine.” Castiel grabs Michael by the hand and hauls him into the townhouse. “But it wasn’t you.”
Michael is wearing a faded green army jacket, and he shrugs out of it and then his flannel while they are still in the entryway. He pauses with his hands on the hem of his t-shirt. “Should I keep my clothes on?”
“No,” Castiel says.
For the first time Castiel watches while Michael gets undressed, slowly cataloguing all of Michael’s features, flaws and perfections, with his eyes. It’s mostly perfections. Michael is gorgeous yet bashful, blushing when he catches Castiel watching him. It lasts just a moment, though, before Michael’s usual smirk replaces whatever sweet smile was on his face.
“To the bedroom,” Michael says, and teasingly chases Castiel down the hall.
Knotted together face-to-face, Michael’s hand safely on Castiel’s hip, Michael says, “I’m really sorry about last time. I really didn’t mean to -- I swear. The way you smell just makes me a little -- I don’t know, it’s hard to think -- I just want to touch you so bad.”
“I understand,” Castiel says.
It’s true, because Castiel is feeling the same way, his thoughts just buzzing with the idea that he could move forward just a few inches and they would be kissing. The idea that, he’s pretty sure that if he grabbed Michael by the hair and pulled him close, Michael would go willingly.
Instead Castiel just stays still, mesmerized by the gold flecks in Michael’s eyes, and Michael seems just as happy to stare back into Castiel’s.
Castiel’s resolve has basically crumbled, he is ready to lean forward and steal a kiss, when Michael’s knot goes down enough for them to separate. Michael pulls away quickly and disappears into the hall bathroom to clean up, leaving Castiel a lonely mess in bed.
Castiel hears the shower start, so he stumbles into his own bathroom and starts the shower with ridiculously cold water. He’s got to get out of his own head, got to get away from the way he’s been feeling about Michael. It’s just a job, Castiel tells himself over and over while he showers off sweat and come and the feel of Michael’s hands on his hips.
Michael is dressed when Castiel comes out in a fresh t-shirt and pants. “I didn’t want to just skip out on you,” Michael says.
“That’s very considerate of you,” Castiel says.
Michael gives him a tight smile. “Back at nine?”
“No,” Castiel says, and catches Michael’s face fall before he continues. “Right now.”
Castiel approaches Michael this time and starts pulling off his clothes, tugging and unbuttoning and kneeling to pull off his boots. Michael doesn’t make a move to stop him, just lets himself be manhandled around until he’s standing there naked and Castiel is just staring at him.
“Like what you see?” Michael says, but instead of smirking arrogance, he sounds unsure. Like anyone could ever look at him and not like what they see.
“Yes,” Castiel says, and he allows himself the luxury of sliding his hand through Michael’s hair. Michael closes his eyes and leans into the touch. He turns his head, almost as if he’s going to kiss Castiel’s wrist, but he stops himself at the last moment. Castiel wishes he hadn’t stopped. Castiel wants his hands and mouth everywhere .
But Castiel wants the opposite, too, his own hands and mouth all over Michael, and maybe that would be ok. He stands up tall and whispers in Michael’s ear, not quite scenting him but not quite not scenting him, “I want to go down on you.”
Michael’s breath catches. “What? You -- what?”
“Fuck, Cas. If you really -- fuck, yes.”
Castiel goes to his knees right there in the living room, where Michael’s cock has started to perk up from just Castiel’s whispered words. Castiel takes it in his hand and then his mouth, coaxing it to full hardness with his lips and tongue, and Michael makes a delicious little noise above him.
Castiel slides off just to admire Michael’s cock up close, swollen red and heavy, and when he glances up, Michael is staring down at him with wide eyes. Michael’s hands are clenching on his own thighs, fingernails digging in to create pink crescents on his skin.
Castiel licks, flat-tongued, at the bottom of the crown, then upwards to taste pre-come gathering at the tip. “You taste…” Castiel murmurs, then takes Michael’s cock back in his mouth instead of finishing the thought. Michael gasps and his fingers flex and Castiel is impressed with his self-control.
Slowly, Castiel takes Michael in inch by inch, taking as much as he can before Michael bumps the back of his throat. He’s big, Castiel can’t get anywhere near his knot, but Michael is still staring and gasping and clenching his fingers and he makes the tiniest thrust forward, seeking more, and Castiel moans into it.
“Christ,” Michael says, “your mouth.”
There’s the hint of a knot forming, and Castiel reaches up to stroke and massage it while he sucks up and down on Michael’s cock. “Oh, fuck,” Michael says, “oh, fuck, that feels good. If you -- if you keep doing that -- I won’t be able to fuck you.”
Castiel barely cares, but slick is leaking out of him and his heat is getting more demanding by the minute, more demanding the longer he worships Michael’s cock with his mouth and hands. But god, does it feel good to have Michael in his mouth. It’s been a long time since Castiel did this for anyone.
With a final suck to taste him and a lot of regret, Castiel pulls off.
“Get up,” Michael says, voice low and rough, “or I’m going to take you right there on the floor.”
Castiel hurries to the bedroom, hurries to strip out of his pants and get in the bed on his back, just in case Michael gives in and touches him again. Just in case Michael can see in Castiel’s eyes how much he wants it.
Quicker than Castiel would’ve thought possible, Michael is between his legs and guiding his cock into Castiel’s wet and wanting hole. “Fuck,” Michael whispers, and then goes silent.
“You don’t have to be quiet anymore,” Castiel says.
“Oh, thank fuck,” Michael says. “You feel so good, god -- it’s hard not to tell you.” And then he leans down, still fucking deep into Castiel, and whispers into Castiel’s ear, “I won’t be able to stop thinking about you sucking my cock. I won’t be able to stop wondering what your cock tastes like. Does your come taste as good as your slick?”
Castiel flat out whines, head tilting back, subconsciously offering himself for scenting and a bite. Michael groans and presses his nose just behind Castiel’s ear. Castiel can feel him huffing breaths, and Castiel can’t find it in himself to tell Michael not to scent him. It’s intimate and sweet and Castiel wants nothing more.
“I think about you all the time,” Michael says. “Want you so bad. Wish I could touch you.”
Castiel tilts his head until his cheek rubs against Michael’s, his mouth brushing against his ear. “Do you -- do you think about me when you’re with other omegas?”
Castiel regrets asking as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but Michael says, “Yeah. You smell -- you smell so perfect. No one else is like you.”
Castiel is tilting his hips up with every stroke of Michael’s cock, trying to get him to fuck harder, seeking release, but Michael doesn’t relent and keeps up his pace that’s just not quite enough. “Shh,” Michael whispers. He’s so close that Castiel can feel his eyelashes against his temple. “Just let me. I’ve got you.”
“Please,” Castiel says, “harder, please.”
Michael laughs softly. “I love when you beg. God, you’re gorgeous. Fuck, you’re so tight and just -- fuck, feels so good.”
“You feel amazing,” Castiel says, gasping and pressing his nose to Michael’s neck. He smells like nothing else Castiel has ever experienced. He’s never reacted to someone’s scent like this, never wanted them so bad it hurts .
“You can touch me, you know,” Michael says, “if you wanted.”
For some reason, this hadn’t occurred to Castiel: that he could touch even if he didn’t want to be touched. Hesitantly, he reaches up to touch Michael’s shoulder, slides his hand to feel the muscles of his back flexing. Under his hand, Michael shivers. “Yeah,” Michael says, his voice breaking.
One hand goes to Michael’s hip, trying to pull him in faster and harder and just more , and the other wraps around Michael’s shoulders to keep him close. “Yeah,” Michael whispers again, “god, love your hands.”
“Michael,” Castiel says, breath shaky, “please, more, please.”
Michael must be satisfied with Castiel’s begging, because he starts to fuck into him harder and faster. Castiel holds tighter onto Michael’s shoulders, moaning at every stroke, and Michael says, “Yes, sweetheart, let me hear you.”
When Castiel comes, it’s explosive and so good he is dizzy with it, closing his eyes and crying out as he rides through pulses and pulses of pleasure. “God,” Michael says, and then he’s coming, too, trembling under Castiel’s hands.
They both just breathe hard, not moving, for a long minute. Michael says, mouth still up against Castiel’s ear, “Fuck, that was good.”
Castiel nuzzles back into Michael’s neck, wanting to know what he smells like when he’s coming down from an orgasm and so hazy with pleasure. It’s good, almost as good as his arousal smells, and Castiel sighs softly into it.
“Gotta move, Cas,” Michael says, He touches Cas just to rearrange them, side by side, nose to nose.
Castiel reaches up and touches Michael’s face, rough stubble rubbing against his sensitive palms. He takes a deep breath and runs his thumb over Michael’s plush lower lip. Michael parts his lips in a silent offer and Castiel slides the tip of his thumb into Michael’s mouth to feel Michael’s tongue, Michael sucking gently. Castiel can imagine what that would feel like if it were his lips, his tongue, instead of his fingertip. When he pulls his thumb out, it’s shiny with saliva and Michael licks his lips.
“Cas?” Michael says. “Why do you smell like an angel?”
Castiel pulls his hand away from Michael’s face like it burned him. “I don’t,” Castiel says.
“It’s real faint,” Michael says, “but I can smell it.”
“You must be confused,” Castiel says, trying to force a laugh.
Michael’s bright eyes just search Castiel’s until Castiel looks away. No one has scented it on him since he lost his wings -- there’s no way Michael can. There’s no way Michael can know.
“I’m sorry for asking,” Michael says quietly. “It’s none of my business.”
“You’re right,” Cas says. “But it’s ok.”
Michael’s hand is lying on his own hip. Stupidly, Castiel reaches for it and slides his fingers between Michael’s. Michael’s eyebrows raise but he curls his fingers around Castiel’s hand.
Michael shows up early, alpha storm in his eyes, and shoves Castiel face-down on the bed. Michael pulls his pants off, then pushes into Castiel in one slick move. He fucks Castiel harder than he ever has and Castiel comes in minutes, his hands clenched in the sheets. Michael knots him and then lays across his back, face pressed into Castiel’s neck as he catches his breath.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Michael says, words soft in comparison to the way he just fucked Castiel.
“So are you,” Castiel says, surprised he can make words at all, still swimming in pleasure. He can feel Michael smile against his neck.
They lay there in silence until Michael’s knot goes down and he pulls away. “I’m going to shower. Want to join me?”
Castiel scowls at him.
“I guess that’s a ‘no.’” Michael smiles anyway.
Castiel takes his own shower. Afterwards he faces away from the mirror, craning his neck around to look at his back. The scars look just as bad as they always do, and he puts a shirt on quickly to avoid looking at them any more. It’s easier to pretend they don’t exist at all with clothes covering them up.
Michael is in the guestroom bed naked when Castiel goes looking for him. “Didn’t know if you wanted me to leave or not,” Michael says.
Castiel licks his lips, staring at Michael. He’s perfect, from his wet hair spiking wildly to the delicate arch of his feet. Castiel thinks, I never want you to leave.
“If you stay, how do you get paid? Per hour or per… interaction? I’ve never had to ask before.”
“I never tell them when I stay.”
“Why not? You should be compensated.”
Michael shakes his head, looking away. “I don’t want to be compensated .”
“Then you shouldn’t stay.”
Michael opens his mouth, then closes it. Something in his face closes off, too, his easy smile gone and replaced with a faker one. “I’ll see you in six hours then,” he says, getting up to grab his clothes. “Unless you want someone else?”
“ No .”
Michael gives him a tight smile. “Good,” he says. “I don’t think I could stand it if Zeke touched you again.”
The second time Michael is more subdued, waiting for Castiel to undress himself. Kind of nervous, because he’s never done this before with one of the Real Alphas, Castiel says, “Lay down.”
Michael arches an eyebrow but lays down on his back in the bed, eyes on Castiel. Castiel says, “I want to ride you. Is that ok?”
Michael’s eyes close and he takes several measured breaths. “Yeah, Cas, yeah, that’s perfect.”
As Castiel gets in the bed, Michael’s eyes open again and don’t leave him. Castiel straddles Michael’s hips, grabs his cock, guides it to his hole. He’s dripping slick, probably should’ve had Michael come back earlier, had to jerk off in between sessions, but none of that matters when Michael’s cock is breaching Castiel’s him.
“Fuck,” Michael whispers. His hands move to grab Castiel’s hips and then drop, grabbing the sheets instead.
Castiel slowly sinks down until he can feel Michael’s entire length filling him up. Michael’s eyes sweep up and down his body, dark and wanting, and Castiel offers half a smile that Michael returns readily.
Castiel puts his hands flat on Michael’s chest, pausing to rub Michael’s nipples between his fingers -- Michael gasps and moans and Castiel catalogues this away for later -- then slowly starts to rock and grind his hips. “Oh god,” Michael says. “Can I -- just your hips, can I touch your hips?”
Castiel nods. His oversized t-shirt falls almost to the base of his cock so Michael’s hands are just resting on fabric, but Castiel can feel the warmth of them anyway. Michael squeezes his hands there but doesn’t make any move to guide the movement of Castiel’s hips. It thrills Castiel all the same, having Michael’s hands on him.
Slowly, Castiel rises up and then slides back down on Michael’s dick. Michael makes a growling noise low in his throat, and as Castiel keeps rocking on and off of him, his hands start to support Castiel’s weight, helping him move upwards. Castiel finds his rhythm and moves faster, moaning at every hard downstroke.
“Cas, Cas,” Michael says, and Castiel can feel his eyes trying to look at all of Castiel at once. It makes Castiel feel hot all over, and not at all like the heat makes him hot -- this isn’t an itch under his skin but a tingling buzz.
“Touch yourself for me,” Michael says. “Wanna see you come.”
One of Castiel’s hands leaves Michael’s chest and goes to his own cock, pre-come making his skin slippery, following the same pace as his thrusts, and Michael’s breath hitches, watching the movement of Castiel’s hand.
“Yeah, Cas, yeah. A little faster. Just like that, baby, don’t stop. Come for me. Can you come for me?”
Castiel nods, unable to form words. As he goes deep, Michael’s knot starts to catch, and Castiel cries out and comes all over Michael’s stomach and chest. Michael’s knot catches inside him and they both shudder as Michael comes.
When Castiel looks down, Michael is just staring at him in wonder, chest heaving. “Fuck, Cas, that was amazing.”
On a whim, Castiel swipes his thumb through some of the come on Michael’s chest and offers it to him. Eagerly, Michael wraps his mouth around Castiel’s thumb and sucks. At first his eyes are on Castiel’s, but then they flutter closed, and a little moaning growl sounds out of the deep of his throat. When Castiel pulls his thumb out, Michael says, eyes still closed, “You taste amazing.”
Castiel shouldn’t, but he curves his body down around Michael’s to press his face into his neck, scenting from the base of his throat up to just below his ear. Michael tilts his head back and Castiel just breathes deep, wonders if he smells like Michael after Michael leaves. Wonders why he never thought to bring one of the guest bedroom pillows to bed with him, so he could have the scent closer. Wonders why he doesn’t just take Michael to his bed, mess be damned.
“Michael,” Castiel says, overwhelmed.
“No,” Michael says, tilting his head to speak directly in Castiel’s ear. “Dean. My name is Dean.”
Dean . Castiel rolls it around in his mind, considers it, tries it out with his tongue: “Dean.” It feels more right than Michael , feels perfect for this perfect man. “Dean,” Castiel says again, more sure.
Dean nuzzles into Castiel’s neck and scents him. “God,” he whispers. “Say my name again.”
“Dean,” Castiel says, his voice extra low.
“Fuck,” Dean says, gripping Castiel’s hips harder.
Castiel rocks down on Dean’s cock, arches upward so his knot pulls at Castiel’s rim, and they both come a second time, moaning in tandem.
Dean’s hands leave Castiel’s hips so he can sit up on his elbows, pressing back into Castiel’s neck, his lips touching but not kissing. “You have no idea what you do to me,” Dean whispers.
“Tell me,” Castiel whispers back.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Dean says, “all the time. When I’m with -- when I’m on other assignments -- I pretend it’s you. God, Cas. The way you say my name.”
“You pretend it’s me?”
Dean pauses before he says, “Yeah. Do you -- do you think about me at all?”
Castiel should say no. He should pretend that Dean never crosses his thoughts, that he doesn’t miss him in the months between their meetings. “I shouldn’t,” Castiel says, truthfully.
“I know,” Dean says. “But do you?”
Dean’s knot has gone down and Castiel pulls off of him, collapsing on his back, shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean. “I shouldn’t,” Castiel repeats, “but I do.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel sees Dean’s head turn, feels his eyes on him. “Why won’t you kiss me?”
“I can’t,” Castiel whispers. “It’s just a transaction.”
Dean arrives with grocery bags. “I bet you don’t eat enough during your heats,” he says. “I’m going to make you dinner when we’re finished.”
Castiel just stares at him for a long moment, then gestures towards the kitchen. He watches while Dean puts away the food in his fridge, ignoring how wet he is at just the smell of Dean, the idea of getting his hands on him.
“Come here,” Castiel says.
Dean approaches him, leans down to scent behind Castiel’s ear. “I missed you,” he says softly.
Castiel breathes in harshly. “I wanted to,” he starts, pauses, takes another deep breath, “I wanted to call for you before I was in heat but I didn’t know if that was allowed.”
“I can give you my phone number,” Dean says. And then: “God, you need me so bad right now, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Castiel says. He’s trembling at being so close. He grabs Dean’s hands in his own and backs towards the bedroom, but at the last minute, turns towards his own instead of the guest room.
“Is this your room?” Dean asks as they move.
“Yes,” Castiel says.
Dean keeps following him, so trusting, into the dark. Castiel lets go to flip on the bedside lamp, and the room comes into soft focus. Castiel’s room is mostly shelves full of books, and he catches Dean’s eyes moving around quickly before settling back on him.
While Dean watches, Castiel unbuttons, unzips, slips out of his jeans. Dean licks his lips and his hands twitch. “You,” he says quietly.
“Me?” Castiel replies, backing up until his knees hit the bed and then collapsing into it.
Dean follows after him, leaning over him, and for a terrifying moment Castiel thinks he’s going to be kissed. Instead, Dean just wuffs against his neck, scenting him with intent. “God,” Dean says, “ you .”
“You too,” Castiel says, mostly drunk on wanting.
Dean pulls away and starts to strip his clothes. He doesn’t make a show of it, but Castiel is still rapt, eyes following each bit of skin as it’s revealed. “You want me?” Dean says.
“Please,” Castiel says, so loud in the quiet room.
Dean approaches the bed, grabs Castiel’s hips and pulls until he’s nearly hanging off the bed. “Ok like this?”
“However you want.”
Dean gives a toothy alpha smile. “Like this then,” he says, and so slowly starts to push into Castiel.
Castiel wraps his legs around Dean, urging him deeper, and Dean doesn’t make him wait this time, just starts to fuck Castiel just like he likes it, hard and fast. Maybe later they can play slow and sweet, but Castiel’s heat has him aching inside and he’s happy to just grab on to Dean’s forearms, planted on either side of his head, and go along for the ride.
“You feel so fucking good,” Dean whispers against Castiel’s cheek.
“Yes,” Castiel says back, and turns his head to kiss and lick and suck the inside of Dean’s wrist, the only skin he can reach.
“Fuck,” Dean says, and the roll of his hips speeds up, slamming Castiel further up the bed with every thrust. “You gonna come for me, baby?”
Castiel just moans in response, latching his teeth over the side of Dean’s wrist, keeping his bite gentle but sure.
“Touch yourself,” Dean says, “if I can’t touch you, touch yourself. Want to see a hand on that beautiful cock of yours.”
“You touch me,” Castiel says, and Dean’s hips falter.
“Really, Cas? Can I?”
Dean leans away from Castiel’s neck, no longer bending over him, and puts one hand on Castiel’s hip to hold him in place while the other -- almost timidly -- wraps around Castiel’s cock. Both of them are staring as Dean strokes loosely the first few times.
“Fucking -- god, Cas -- look at you,” Dean says, babbling as he starts to fuck Castiel and touch him at the same time.
Castiel can’t think at all. He’s never felt like this, strung as tight as a violin string. He wants Dean to lean back down so he can scent him, but it hardly matters because the room is already full of Dean’s alpha scent mixed with Castiel’s own sweet omega smell. “That feels -- that feels --” Castiel tries to say, but it trails off into gasping moans.
Castiel reaches down and covers Dean’s hand with his own so they stroke his cock together. Dean’s hips falter again until he stops thrusting completely, just his cock buried deep in Castiel while he stares at their hands together on Castiel’s dick.
Castiel tenses and starts to fuck up into Dean’s fist and then back down on his cock. “Oh, fuck,” Dean says, tightening his hand, and that’s all it takes before Castiel is coming all over his t-shirt, his whole body tightening and then releasing with a long sigh.
Dean starts to pull out, but Castiel wraps his legs around him tighter. “Knot me,” Castiel says.
Castiel isn’t sure why Dean seems surprised, but before Dean starts to fuck him again, he raises his hand to his mouth and sucks his fingers clean of Castiel’s come. Castiel just stares.
Once Dean’s knot goes down, they head their separate ways for showers, then meet again in the kitchen. Castiel is fully dressed, but Dean is in nothing but jeans, his feet bare on the tile. Castiel stares at him from the doorway until Dean turns and flashes a grin.
“You hardly have any food here,” Dean says, “so I’m glad I brought everything I need.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Castiel says.
“But I did,” Dean says, shrugging. “I’m not making anything complicated -- just some burgers, and, god, never tell him I did this, ok? But my brother showed me how to make these kale chips and you need the protein, so.”
“How old is your brother?” Castiel asks, joining Dean at the counter.
“Ah, fuck, he just turned thirty. Weird to think about. He’s a lawyer.” Dean turns the oven to three-fifty and starts laying out pieces of kale on a baking sheet. “How ‘bout you? Any siblings?”
“A few,” Castiel says, watching the way Dean moves about his kitchen with ease. “Gabriel is older. Anna and Alfie are younger.”
“You got the weird name,” Dean says.
“Well. Anna is Annael and Alfie is Samandriel.”
“You… didn’t get the weird name.”
Dean laughs and Castiel laughs along with him.
“Can I help?” Castiel says.
“No,” Dean says, pointing to one of the chairs in Castiel’s meager dining room. “Sit. I’m taking care of you tonight.”
Castiel doesn’t sit, but he moves back, trying not to hover over Dean’s shoulder as he puts the kale in the oven and starts packing hamburger patties. Instead this leaves Castiel to just watch the smooth muscles in Dean’s back, the dip of his spine, the low ride of his jeans on his hips.
Without realizing he’s doing it, Castiel steps closer again, tucks himself in against Dean’s back, scents up the side of his neck.
“Cas,” Dean says, voice breaking.
“Yes?” Castiel whispers it right against Dean’s skin, lips touching the juncture between Dean’s neck and shoulder.
“Do you --” Dean swallows, hard. “Do you need me again?”
“Not yet,” Castiel says. He runs the tip of his nose and his lips up the side of Dean’s neck again, just breathing him in.
“Stop that,” Dean says, “or I’ll never get this food made for you.”
Castiel smiles and mouths at the back of Dean’s neck, nipping sharply at the top knob of his spine.
“Fuck,” Dean says, almost a moan.
“Just. That feels good. But seriously -- if you don’t need me yet -- Cas, you gotta stop.”
Castiel pulls away and sits in the chair, just watching again. “What’s your brother’s name?”
“Sammy. Sam. He hates when I call him Sammy.”
“Gabe calls me ‘Cassie.’”
Dean laughs and plops the hamburgers on a cast-iron skillet he pulled out of his bag of tricks. “You hate that, huh? Do you hate when I call you ‘Cas’?”
“No,” Castiel says. “You’re different.”
Dean grins one of those dazzling smiles again. “Five minutes until dinner,” he says. He washes his hands and starts slicing tomatoes.
“Parents?” Dean says.
“Dad left when I was young. Mom doesn’t think much of male omegas. Or ‘the gays.’ Or really anything about me.”
“Shit, I’m sorry, Cas.”
“It is what it is. What about yours?”
“Both dead now. It is what it is.”
Dean doesn’t sound nearly as casual as Castiel honestly feels about his own parents, and Castiel wants to go to him, offer comfort with his hands as long as he doesn’t have any words, but he stays still.
“I kind of raised Sam,” Dean says.
“But you’re not much older than him.”
Dean smiles at Castiel over his shoulder. “We do what we have to do, right?”
Castiel considers as Dean transfers food from baking sheet and skillet to plates. Castiel says, “I think I’m too selfish to be able to do it. Anna went through quite a rebellious streak. Pink hair and everything.”
“Nah,” Dean says, putting the plates on the table. “‘Selfish’ is not a word I think of when I think of you.”
“You don’t actually know me,” Castiel says.
Dean looks away, says, “I brought beer, but you should probably stick to water or you’ll get dehydrated.”
“I don’t need an alpha to take care of me, you know,” Castiel says, popping a kale chip into his mouth. His eyes widen. “I had no idea what to expect, but that is delicious.”
“I know you don’t,” Dean says, pulling two beers out of the fridge and popping the caps with his ring. “But maybe I want to. Eat.”
The burger is amazing, too, and Castiel finishes it in record time while Dean watches with amusement. “Here,” Dean says, pushing his plate towards Castiel. “Eat this one, too. You’re too thin.”
“You need energy, too,” Castiel says, pushing the plate back across the table. “Especially if you are going to fuck me again like you did earlier.”
Dean arches an eyebrow. “You’re assuming I’m going to.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Dean tries to hold his face straight for as long as he can, but he breaks out in a smile pretty quickly. “I could never follow through.”
Dean eats, even finishing the kale chips despite mumbling something about rabbit food and “fuck Sammy.” Castiel smiles, feeling incredibly endeared towards him, even when he licks a stray bit of ketchup off his palm.
“You have terrible table manners,” Castiel says.
“If you ask nicely.”
They smile at each other, eyes meeting a beat too long, and Dean covers it up by saying, “You smell like you need me to take care of you again.”
Take care of . No one has ever used those exact words, and it makes Castiel warm. “Yes,” Castiel says, “let’s do that.”
Dean leads the way down the hall. “Yours or…?”
“Mine,” Castiel says, because he’s already addicted to the way Dean looks in his space.
Castiel hesitates, planning on crawling on hands and knees but getting on his back at the last moment because he wants to press his nose up against Dean’s neck while Dean’s inside him. Dean looks pleased and he growls a little as he looks Castiel over.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Dean says.
Castiel actually blushes, and he reaches for Dean. “Come here.”
Dean gets in bed. One of his hands hovers over Castiel’s shin like he’s going to rub upwards to his thigh, to leave a burning touch behind, but he stops himself, instead moving over Castiel’s body and guiding his hot and heavy cock to Castiel’s dripping hole.
“God, you want me,” Dean says. His eyes are all awe.
“Yes, Dean,” Castiel says, pushing downwards to take the head of Dean’s dick into himself. Dean groans and leans down to scent Castiel before he even starts moving. Castiel tilts his chin so he can bury his nose against Dean’s skin, too, breathing deep and whimpering as he does so.
Dean starts to fuck him, just slow and shallow thrusts. Castiel can take it for now, doesn’t have to start begging yet. He wraps his arms around Dean, one hand in Dean’s hair and the other on his lower back, urging him just a little closer until he can feel the heat of Dean’s chest through his shirt.
“It’s ok that you won’t, but fuck, I wish you would take it off,” Dean says. “Want to feel you so bad.”
“I can’t,” Castiel says.
“It’s ok,” Dean says. His lips touch Castiel’s ear in what’s almost a kiss but probably just an accidental brush as he speaks.
Dean moves deeper in Castiel, but still slow, whispering to Castiel how beautiful he is. How much Dean wants him. How good he smells. One of Dean’s hands is on Castiel’s hip, gripping and guiding him to arch upwards to meet Dean’s thrusts.
No one has ever fucked Castiel like this, and it’s incredible . He can feel every nerve ending where they are touching lit on fire. He can feel Dean’s breath on his neck and knows he’s scenting just like Castiel is scenting him, and he can only hope that Dean is drowning as deep as he is.
“Dean, Dean,” Castiel says.
“God, yeah,” Dean says back. “Love the way you say my name.”
“Dean,” Castiel says again, just to feel the shiver that runs through Dean’s body.
“Can you come like this, baby? I can tell you love it, me deep in you,” Dean says.
“Yes,” Castiel gasps, “yes.”
“But I want to fuck you forever, so maybe…”
The movement of Dean’s hips pauses with just the tip of his cock inside Castiel. Castiel whines and scrabbles his hands against Dean’s back, in Dean’s hair, trying to pull him deep again, but Dean just raises his head to stare down at Castiel, eyes soft and searching, before he pushes deep into him again. Castiel’s head tilts back and he moans, saying Dean’s name.
Just as Castiel is approaching the edge, his hand tightening in Dean’s hair, Dean stops again. Castiel writhes underneath him, trying to get him deeper, but Dean’s hand on his hip holds him immobile. Not until this moment did Castiel realize how strong Dean is.
“You want me so bad,” Dean says with a wolfish smile.
“Yes, Dean, I want you. Please.”
“God, you’re perfect,” Dean says, and gives Castiel what he wants.
“I’m sorry, but Michael is no longer with us,” the woman at Real Alpha says.
“What?” Castiel says. Maybe he heard wrong.
“Michael is no longer with Real Alpha. Can I offer you one of our other alphas? We have a one hundred percent satisfaction guarantee. I see you’ve worked with Zeke before --”
“No thank you,” Castiel says. “I’ll -- I’ll call back later.”
Castiel sits on the couch with his head in his hands. Dean is gone. He keeps repeating it to himself, trying to make it real, but it feels like a bad dream. Did Dean know, last time, that he wasn’t coming back? Is that why he fucked Castiel so sweetly? Why didn’t Dean tell him?
Castiel does not call back, even though his heat is raging by the next day. He just gets out his fake knot and does his best to sate himself, even when his wrist starts hurting, even though it’s not nearly enough.
It’s on the third day -- and he hopes it’ll be the last -- that he gets a text from an unknown number.
Unknown : Hey Cas. This is Dean. I really shouldn’t have but I took your number from Real Alpha. I’m not there anymore but I wanted to make sure you were ok. Did you get Zeke again?
Castiel is heat-drunk and has to read the message three times before it really sinks in.
Castiel : Really? Dean???
Dean: Shit. I knew I should’ve just left you alone. I’m sorry. I’ll take your number out of my phone.
Castiel: No! I don’t want Zeke. I want you.
Dean: I’m working until 6.
Castiel: Come over afterwards.
Dean: K, I’ll see you around 7:30.
The need is fading, so Castiel manages to not fuck himself on toys before Dean arrives. Instead, he cleans up, washes the sheets, hides his toys in the back of his closet, tidies the living room over and over. He knows he’s being ridiculous but he can’t stop adjusting the pillows and wiping dust off his books.
When Dean walks in, he goes immediately to Castiel’s neck, his breath hot. In the months since the last time Castiel saw him, his memory of Dean’s scent had faded, and he’s thrilled to drink it in now.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Castiel says.
“I really -- I really shouldn’t have taken your number but I just couldn’t stand --”
“It’s ok. I won’t tell,” Castiel says, smiling. “Where are you working now? I’ll call and make an appointment.”
Dean shakes his head. “I’m not doing the, you know, servicing omegas thing anymore. Just working at a garage, fixing cars.”
“Then why did you offer…?”
“Because all I do is think about you.”
Castiel flushes, and Dean nuzzles back up to his neck. “But you’re not in heat anymore. You don’t need me.”
“I do,” Castiel whispers, grabbing Dean’s shirt to pull him closer. “Will you still fuck me? Even if I’m not?”
“God, yes,” Dean says. “Wait,” he says as Castiel starts to lead him by the hand back to the bedroom.
“I won’t ask again, I swear,” Dean says, “but since this isn’t a transaction anymore, can I -- god, I just want to kiss you.”
Castiel had not considered this. He looks down at his and Dean’s hand joined together.
“I’m sorry,” Dean says, “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s ok.”
“No,” Castiel says. “Kiss me.”
Dean smiles -- it’s quick and then it’s gone -- and he slowly takes a step towards Castiel until they are close enough to touch. Dean raises his free hand to Castiel’s face, runs his thumb over Castiel’s cheek bone, and leans in slowly, giving Castiel a chance to pull away.
Dean’s lips are incredibly soft against Castiel’s. Castiel gasps and parts his lips, a silent offering, and Dean slips his tongue past Castiel’s lips to slide against Castiel’s tongue.
Castiel can’t even remember the last time he was kissed, but he’s certainly never been kissed like this, with such gentle intensity that rushes through him from head to toe, making him grab on to Dean’s shoulder to keep his balance.
When they break away to breathe, Dean whispers, “God.”
Castiel nods a little in agreement, but it’s cut off when Dean leans forward to kiss him again. It’s just as good the second time, and Castiel finds himself moaning into it. Dean’s hand squeezes Castiel’s harder, and Castiel knows he’s aching to touch him elsewhere. Would it be so bad?
Yes, Castiel knows, it would.
“Come to bed,” Castiel says.
In bed, Dean is gentle and kind just like the last time, fucking him slow and deep, but this time is even better because he kisses Castiel the whole time and Castiel doesn’t have the deep need of heat distracting him. And once they are knotted together, Dean whispers things to him, says how beautiful and perfect Castiel is, how good it feels to be inside him.
“Dean,” Castiel says, pressing his face into Dean’s neck.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Dean doesn’t leave after his knot goes down. Instead, he wraps himself around Castiel from behind, face nuzzled into Castiel’s hair and his hand safely on Castiel’s hip. Castiel’s wings -- the place where the wings aren’t -- hurt terribly, but he still presses back into Dean’s chest, seeking his warmth.
Dean and Castiel haven’t touched like this before, not without being tied together, and it’s ridiculously intimate and ridiculously terrifying. Castiel forces himself to relax, focusing on each of his muscle groups in turn, but all he’s thinking about is what it would feel like to wrap his wings around Dean and cocoon him close.
“You ok?” Dean asks. “You’re tense. Is this… should I go?”
“No,” Castiel says. “No, I like it. Just not used to it.”
“Me either,” Dean says.
Castiel feels him press a kiss into his hair. Castiel manages to relax, and Dean relaxes against him and soon is snoring softly. Castiel closes his eyes and sleeps, too.
Dean is already awake when Castiel comes out of his doze. Dean is leaving soft kisses on the back of Castiel’s neck in between scenting him, but he stops when he feels Castiel wake.
“Hey,” Dean says.
Castiel rolls over to face him, and Dean immediately pulls him close, his arm draped over Castiel’s middle. Nose to nose, Castiel thinks about all the times they’ve been together like this without kissing, so he nudges forward and presses his lips against Dean’s. Dean kisses him back, careful and intense, and it’s the best kiss Castiel has ever received.
“Love kissing you,” Dean says in a break for breath. “Totally worth the wait.”
The kisses start to get deeper, less careful and more wanting , and Castiel grips Dean’s bicep to anchor himself. Dean’s skin is hot and golden and feels amazing under Castiel’s hands.
When Dean pulls away, his mouth is red and shining. “Can I suck your cock, Cas? I won’t touch you anywhere else.”
Castiel licks his lips and says, “Ok. Ok, Dean.”
Dean moves down his body, nose just a breath away from rubbing against Castiel’s t-shirt, before he reaches Castiel’s cock, already hard and leaking. “God, I love your cock,” Dean says. “Want you to fuck me sometime.”
“Really?” Castiel says.
Dean glances up at him. “Why’re you surprised?”
“Alphas don’t usually do that.”
Dean shrugs. And slowly, like he’s savoring it, he licks from the base of Castiel’s cock to the tip, then flicks his tongue out to lap up the pre-come beading there. Castiel gasps and grabs at Dean’s hair, already overwhelmed at the feeling of Dean’s mouth. Dean’s hands wrap around Castiel’s hips and, in one smooth move, he talks all of Castiel’s cock into his mouth.
“Oh!” Castiel says, grips his hands tighter in Dean’s hair.
“Mmhmm,” Dean hums, starting to bob his head up and down, twisting so his tongue touches as much of Castiel’s cock as possible.
One of Castiel’s hands leaves Dean’s hair to cradle his face, thumbing at the corner of his mouth as he sucks. Dean looks upwards and his pupils are so wide and black that Castiel can’t catch his breath. Castiel just holds Dean’s eyes while he rises higher and higher, wetter and wetter, until he’s gasping, “Dean, Dean, I’m going to come --”
Right before Castiel comes, as his balls tighten up towards his body, Dean slides a hand downward and pushes two fingers into him. Castiel comes down Dean’s throat with a shout, his hips arching upwards into Dean’s mouth without any awareness of it.
Dean sucks him clean, slowly pumping his fingers in and out a few times before pulling out and off. While Castiel watches with heavy-lidded eyes, Dean sucks slick off his fingers and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Oh, Dean,” Castiel says, voice rough.
“Yeah? Was it ok?”
“Was it ok ?” Castiel repeats, a little astonished but too happy and loose-limbed to show it on his face. “It was amazing.”
Dean smiles, wide, and lays down next to Castiel again. “Good,” he says, and turns Castiel’s face towards him for a kiss where Castiel can taste himself, sweet slick and salt come.
Castiel runs his hand down Dean’s chest and stomach to wrap around Dean’s cock, arched insistently towards his belly. “What do you want?”
“Just touch me,” Dean says. “Just kiss me.”
They kiss hard and wet and Castiel starts to stroke Dean’s cock. The angle is awkward on his wrist but Dean doesn’t seem to care, moaning into Castiel’s mouth and fucking up into his fist. “Yeah,” Dean whispers, “don’t stop, Cas.”
Castiel works his hand on Dean the same way he likes it himself, and the kisses pause while Dean just pants against Castiel’s mouth, his eyes closed tight. Dean says, “God, love it when you touch me,” and Castiel kisses his chin and says, “I love touching you.”
Dean comes fast, groaning and spilling over Castiel’s hand. Castiel keeps touching him through it until Dean says, “Too much, too much.”
Smiling, Dean rests his forehead against Castiel’s. “You’re fucking incredible.”
“You too,” Castiel says, and kisses Dean because he can.
Dean comes over almost every night after work, and Castiel hardly gets any writing done, too busy thinking about Dean, and yes, they fuck -- a lot -- but Dean also makes Castiel dinner and they talk about stupid things and important things and laugh and kiss.
They are tied together for the second time in one night, Castiel in Dean’s lap and Dean leaving soft kisses along Castiel’s jaw line. “Hey, Cas?”
“I never believed in -- but I think -- did we scent bond?”
Castiel laughs a little. “That’s not real, Dean. Studies --”
“I know. But. You feel it too, don’t you? Haven’t you always felt it?”
Castiel looks at him. Dean’s eyes are bright and soft, the way he always looks at Castiel, like Castiel is something precious and awe-inspiring. This is dangerous, though. Castiel can’t say it and hide from him much longer. “I,” he starts, swallows. “Yes. I feel it. Since I met you.”
Dean says, “That’s why I quit Real Alpha. I couldn’t handle being with other omegas anymore.”
“I don’t mind,” Castiel says. This is a lie. “The money is probably better.”
Dean laughs. “Yeah, but -- I really couldn’t, Cas. It made me feel sick.”
Castiel slides his hand into Dean’s hair and pulls him forward into a kiss.
“I want to be with you, Cas,” Dean says, just a breath away. “Not just whatever we’ve been doing. I mean, I love what we’ve been doing. But I want -- I want all of it. I want to take you out and I want to be able to say I’m yours. I want you to know my friends and my stupid brother. I want -- I just want you. It’s ok if you say no, but I couldn’t not ask.”
Castiel takes a shaky breath. He knows Dean is staying so close so Castiel won’t have to see his face if Castiel rejects him, so Castiel wouldn’t be able to see the devastation. Dean might be able to cover it up quickly, but not completely. And Castiel never wants to put an expression like that on Dean’s face, but he still says, “I have to tell you something first.”
Castiel was right: Dean looks like he’s been punched in the gut for the briefest moment, and then he covers it up with a neutral expression. “Ok,” he says, “what is it?”
“Not when we’re tied together.”
“It’s just something -- you might take it back if you knew.”
Dean shakes his head, leaning forward to give Castiel a firm but chaste kiss. “Never.”
Castiel tightens his grip on Dean’s hair and holds him close, deepening the kiss. It occurs to Castiel that it might be one of the last ones he gets from Dean, so he makes it good, good enough that Dean gasps and moans and whispers, “Cas, Cas, Cas.”
Once Dean’s knot goes down, they take their separate showers and Dean meets Castiel back in his bedroom. “Are you going to tell me now?”
Castiel nods, mute. With shaking hands, he pulls off his t-shirt.
Dean’s eyes darken immediately as he takes in Castiel’s bare shoulders, chest, stomach, hips. “Oh, fuck, you’re beautiful.”
Castiel still can’t speak; he turns around so his back is facing Dean.
“Oh, fuck,” Dean says again, his tone completely different. “Shit, Cas. What happened to you?”
Very quietly, Castiel says, “I used to be an angel.”
He can feel Dean move closer, but Dean doesn’t touch. “What happened to your wings?”
“Can I touch you?”
Castiel shrugs. He can feel the space his wings should be inhabiting, the way Dean’s face would be buried in feathers if he was standing this close. The way Dean would pet the base of his wings, make him keen and lose control, wings flapping around them. Or maybe Dean hates angels and would never touch him, won’t ever really touch him again.
Dean’s fingertips run down Castiel’s spine in the slim bit of skin that isn’t scarred, then carefully touches one side of Castiel’s back, the thick and angry scar that runs from his shoulderblades halfway down his back where his wings were inelegantly cut out.
“Someone did this to you,” Dean says, his voice hard.
“It’s ok,” Castiel says.
“Does it hurt for me to touch...? Is that why you’ve hidden it?”
“No, it doesn’t hurt when you touch me.”
Dean’s hand runs up Castiel’s back on the other side. It’s actually the opposite of pain: it feels almost like he’s actually touching Castiel’s wings, the electric-sensual touch that Castiel never experienced when his wings were still there.
Dean steps closer, pressing his face into the side of Castiel’s neck, hands still on his back. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against Castiel’s ear.
“Is that what you were afraid of? That I wouldn’t want you anymore?”
Saying it out loud makes the fear more real, but Castiel still says, “Yes.”
Dean’s hands slide downward to Castiel’s hips as if to wrap his arms around him, then he pauses. “Can I touch you anywhere now? Or do you want to put your shirt back on?”
“You can touch me.”
Dean’s hands move around him, one flat on his belly and the other flat on his chest, and pull him tight and close. “I’m so sorry, Cas. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
Dean kisses Castiel’s shoulder, the back of his neck, into his hair. “Do you want to be with me, Cas?” Dean says.
“More than anything.”
Castiel : My heat started. Can you come over?
Dean: It’’s only been two months!!! Are you ok?
Dean: I have heat leave. Let me check with my boss
Castiel: I’m ok I just can’t have anyone else.
Dean: No, you can’t. Hang on, baby.
Castiel lays on the couch covered in blankets, alternately shivering and sweating, waiting for Dean’s reply. He’s already pulled out his toys but the idea of using them disgusts him; now that he’s had Dean, Dean is all he really wants.
Dean: I’ve got to finish something up real quick. I can be there in an hour. Can you wait that long? Do you have toys?
Castiel: I don’t want toys. I want you. But yes, I can wait.
Dean: Ok babe see you soon.
Dean manages to get there in forty-five minutes. Castiel is immediately on him, kissing him with lots of tongue and pulling at his clothes and pushing him towards the bedroom all at the same time.
“Hey, hey,” Dean says, pulling Castiel’s shirt off, “you’re ok. I’m here now. Hands and knees on the bed, ok?”
Castiel hesitates and then obeys. They haven’t done it like this with Castiel’s shirt off, but he trusts Dean now, and he needs him so bad it hardly matters.
Instead of fucking him immediately, Dean spreads Castiel’s cheeks and leans down to lick over his hole. Castiel whimpers and says Dean’s name brokenly as Dean’s tongue slides inside. “Fuck,” Dean says. “Just had to taste you.” Dean gives one more slow lick before he pushes his cock into Castiel. “And you’re so wet for me,” Dean murmurs. Castiel blushes a little -- he’s so wet he can hear it as Dean starts to fuck him.
Dean’s hand slips from Castiel’s lower back to between his shoulder blades, pushing downwards gently. Castiel goes immediately onto his shoulders, hands fisted in the sheets above him, and the change in angle makes his moans louder. Dean likes to hear him, so he lets himself go to a place that is nothing but wanting and needing and the most intense pleasure he’s ever felt, and he doesn’t hold back.
Dean knows just what Castiel needs and gives it to him, both hands on his hips to guide Castiel backwards to meet every thrust, every stroke rubbing against the spot inside Castiel that makes him gasp, “Dean, Dean.”
Dean reaches around and pulls at Castiel’s cock with the same rhythm he’s fucking him. “Come for me,” Dean says. “I know you’re close.”
Castiel comes explosively . Heat orgasms are always extra intense, dizzying, but with Dean it’s even moreso. Dean keeps fucking him, rubbing one hand up and down his back soothingly as Castiel comes down. Dean fucks him so long that Castiel’s dick thinks about getting hard again, and then Dean comes with a hard shove, his knot swelling and catching inside Castiel.
Dean leans down and nuzzles Castiel’s cheek, smiling. “Better?”
Castiel nods, too blissed out to speak, but he does manage to reach a hand back to slide into Dean’s sweaty hair, holding him close. Dean presses his nose behind Castiel’s ear, scenting him with gentle breaths, and says, “God, I love you.”
Castiel tenses beneath him, orgasm suddenly forgotten. “What?”
“Oh, shit,” Dean says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to. Fuck, I’m sorry. I -- god, don’t be mad, Cas. Please don’t be mad.”
Dean starts to pull away, putting as much distance between their bodies as he can while they are still tied together. “Come back,” Castiel says, missing Dean’s warmth immediately.
Tentatively, Dean leans back down to cover Castiel’s body with his own. “Don’t be mad,” he whispers again. Castiel has never heard him sound scared before.
Castiel keeps his eyes closed tight. “Did you mean it?”
“ Yes .”
Castiel can’t help but smile. Maybe it’s just the heat talking, but the idea that his alpha loves him makes him sing with joy inside. But the rational part of him, too: his wings were ripped out, and someone loves him anyway. He never could’ve imagined that happening.
Dean’s knot goes down and they separate, laying down to face each other in the bed.
“I think I love you,” Castiel says, “but I don’t know what that would feel like.”
“Feels like I don’t want anyone else,” Dean says. “Just you, always.”
Castiel cups Dean’s jaw in his hands and kisses him gently. “I definitely feel that,” Castiel says.
Dean smiles, and it makes him so beautiful, Castiel has to kiss him again.
Dean’s knot has just gone down, but they are still laying face-to-face, Castiel’s leg slung over Dean’s hip. There’s a mess of come between them but they don’t care, can’t stop kissing slow and slippery, hands all over each other.
Dean breaks away and presses his face into the spot between Castiel’s shoulder and neck, breathing him in. “Love you,” he says. He still says it quiet, like he thinks he’s going to spook Castiel with the words.
Castiel doesn’t say it back. He’s still not sure how to; part of it is the words don’t feel big enough to cover the all-encompassing feeling of Dean . But part of it is he’s just scared. Dean has broken all of his rules, started breaking them on day one, and Castiel is still holding on to this one bit of control. If he admits what Dean has done to him, he won’t have any left.
“It’s ok, you know,” Dean says, “that you don’t say it. I can scent it on you.”
Dean smiles, eyes bright. “Love.”