Work Header

Need a Hand?

Work Text:

Castiel was working through his fourth day of solitude in the Bunker, as Sam and Dean had seeked out a supposed werewolf infestation in Wisconsin. 

The boys had kindly offered to bring Cas along, but in all honestly, the angel figured that he could use a few days to his own devices, so he’d turned them down. 

Living with two other people in a huge bunker may seem easy from an outsider’s view, but in reality, the three were always bumping into eachother, in one way or another. 

Castiel decided from the very moment that the heavy bunker door had shut that he liked being alone sometimes. It wasn’t as lonely as many would assume, and Cas kept himself rather occupied with cooking, cleaning, and relaxing. 

It was a lazy Saturday night, and Castiel lounged on his bed, a dog-eared book splayed out between his calloused fingers. His pinky-nail was being bitten, and he was absorbed greatly in the book, until- 

Oh, strange. Arousal; but from where? Castiel was reading a book about honeybees, and he couldn’t imagine that his arousal had stemmed from that, but crazier things had happened. Perhaps he just needed to... Mm, yeah- That. 

The book was set aside as Castiel ran a hand through his hair, very slightly tugging at the ends of the silky black locks. His breath hitched, arousal simmering and building in a way that made Cas want to soothe his hands over his own skin. 

Castiel ran his hands up under his shirt, letting out a shaky breath as he pinched one of his pebbling nipples between a finger and a thumb. This caused him to hiss out a breath between his teeth, tongue caught in the crevice between the pearly-white rows. 

Soon enough, determined hands worked at his belt and pulled it off, flinging it somewhere on the floor. His button was undone next, zipper creeping down slowly- the noise brought back memories of previous arousal, and his member gave a surprising throb. 

Cas’ fingers curled around his half-hard shaft, pulling it out of his boxers and pants, through the hole he’d created with the clothing. It was dirtier this way, with the angel half-undressed, heart pounding in every inch of his body; he liked it. 

He moved to spit on his hand, wrapping it back around his shaft. The smell of cooling saliva, while it shouldn’t have turned him on, inevitably did anyway; it reminded him of sex. He was feeling self-indulgent and confident in his movements. 

Castiel let out a hitched groan as he played with the sensitive spot under the head of his cock, intent on taking his sweet time, just because he could. As he began to move his hand slowly, his head fell back against the pillows, hips arching slightly at the relief. 

The angel’s free hand moved to play with one of his nipples again, and he groaned quietly. Green eyes flashed in his mind, and then black ones, surprisingly enough. Strong hands holding him down, taking what they needed to be sated. 

A low growl would reverberate, followed by one of Castiel's own. His hand moved faster, nearly desperate now for touch. Gone was the time of sweet, slow touches; now was the time to beg his own body for release. It was time to work and work until everything paid off into a swirling vortex of bliss. Just the thought of that unimaginable bliss caused Castiel to squeeze around his cock, groaning deeply. 

His breath left him in shaky increments, his shaft slicked by unholy amounts of precum- slicking his hand, and the sheets, and his pants, and- Fuck, everything was so wet. Cas briefly wondered how he’d clean up, manually, or with his powers. He was embarrassed to think that the smell of his cooling come stirred arousal yet again. 

By now, every stroke of Castiel's hand was accompanied by a moan of some sort, some gasping, some low and desperate. He was close, and he felt it in the very tips of his toes, the pleasure making its way up his body in a crescendo of unbelievable ecstasy.

A gasp was followed by a low moan as the angel came, long spurts of white covering his hand, and his pants, and everything he touched- God, he thought it had been wet before. 

Shaking was all he felt for a while; shaking and white-hot pleasure that made his eyes shut on their own. And much like it came, it left again, leaving the angel debauched and content and awfully tired. 

Castiel cleaned up using his grace, as he was too tired and boneless to move. He fell asleep like that, one hand on his thigh, and one on his chest.

Sometimes, even angels needed to relieve frustration.