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It was late and Dean was drunk.
Sitting at the kitchen table in the bunker, the elder Winchester had long since given up on being productive and looking for a case online, opting instead to gulp away continuously on his ever-refilled glass of Jack Daniels while browsing hentai porn on his laptop. So what if he had decided that tonight was as good a night as any to contemplate the generally fucked up state of his life? A guy who’d been through as much crap as he’d been forced to endure was entitled - more so now than ever, what with the whole mess with the Mark of Cain.
It was only irritating that despite the alcohol buzzing in his brain and the girl getting taken roughly from behind on the screen in front of him, gigantic breasts jiggling invitingly, the only sensation he was aware of was a vague misery coiling in his stomach. Fuck his brain’s pleasure centre. And fuck his inability to sleep. And fuck Sam, who’d clonked out after a vigorous jogging session and a disgustingly healthy dinner.
Faintly, Dean heard the bunker door creak open and shut. Cas.
With a sigh, he swallowed the last of his whiskey, refilled his glass and made his way towards the war room, stumbling back after a second to slam his laptop closed. Even though he knew that Cas had watched and enjoyed porn, had already had casual sex with at least one stranger and had participated in fucking orgies - pun fully intended - in that alternative timeline Zacharia had zapped him to a lifetime ago, it would still feel odd to let his angel come across his kinks.
When Dean arrived in the War room, Cas was leaning heavily onto the table, head bent and shoulders slumped, giving the hunter pause. He hadn’t seen the angel look this defeated and tired since …. since he hadn’t been an angel, in fact, but human being told that he would have to make his own way in the world.
And now didn’t that association bring up pleasant memories. Guilt still burnt hot in his stomach every time he thought of the ex-angel’s dumbstruck, forlorn expression when he’d been told he’d have to go.
“Hello Dean.”
Castiel’s deep voice mercifully startled Dean from his gloomy contemplation of the day he’d kicked human Cas out of the bunker.
“Heya Cas. Didn’ think you’d seen me, buddy,” Dean said, stepping further into the room and running a tired hand over his face.
“My powers may be declining by the day,” Castiel replied, head still lowered, “- but I doubt even someone fully human could have overheard you. You tread heavily when you are inebriated.”
Dean snorted. “Hey man - I ain’t ina- inebia- I ain’t drunk.” Then, the first part of Cas’ sentence registered in his alcohol-fogged brain and he stopped in his tracks, snapping to attention. “What do you mean your power’s declining? I thought you were all mojo’d up again?! I thought you were fine!”
Cas didn’t reply, didn’t look up, but his shoulders tensed in a way that said very clearly that he’d revealed more than he’d meant to.
Dean carefully stepped closer, keeping his eyes trained on his friend. “Cas, buddy - talk to me here.”
The trench-coated angel sighed and dropped his shoulders in defeat, tension seeping from his body. He looked up at Dean with tired blue eyes. “Dean - I… The grace that I have at the moment, it is not mine. It is burning out.”
Dean’s eyes went wide and the mark on his arm gave an angry throb. He took a few steps closer to Cas. “But can’t you get more of it? Fuel up again?”
Cobalt eyes broke away from Dean’s gaze, dropping to the floor. “I don’t - Dean I don’t want to hurt any more angels. I have killed so many of my brothers and sisters as it is - I just can’t - I-“ Cas broke off, letting his eyes roam the room, looking anywhere but at the hunter in front of him.
When he spoke again, Dean’s voice was tinged with desperation. “So - what are you saying, man? When the grace burns out - you’ll be human again? Right? That ain’t so bad. You can stay with us - here - in the bunker-“
Finally, Cas brought himself to look at Dean again and the infinite sadness in his eyes, the regret written clearly on his features, made Dean break off.
“You’ll die,” he croaked out eventually and took a few steps back, turning around to hide his expression from the angel. Damnit he was too drunk for this conversation - or not drunk enough, depending on how you looked at it.
A painful silence lay over the room as Cas struggled to find words and Dean fought to control himself.
Moments passed and eventually, Cas decided he had to say something - anything. “Dean, I-“ he started uncertainly, but was immediately cut off by the hunter, who had turned back around and was striding across the room towards him, with as much determination in his gait as his blood alcohol level would allow.
Seconds later, they stood toe-to-toe, faces only inches apart.
“No,” Dean stated firmly. “You don’ get to die on me, Cas. Not again. I know I’ve been a crappy friend and I know broke your trust, and that we’ve got other shit going on, but I won’t let you die. You hear me?” Swaying slightly, Dean grabbed Cas’ shoulder tightly and jabbed a finger at his chest. “We’re going to find a way. Me ’n Sam and you. We always do. And you ain’t gonna die.”
For a few heartbeats, they stared at each other intensely. Dean’s eyes were red-rimmed and he was breathing raggedly, doing his best to hold it together. Then, he smiled lopsidedly and broke the moment.
“But nothin’ we can do tonight. And right now? You’n’me - we’re gonna sit down and drink. I ain’t got a liquor store for you, but close. And in moments like these, there ain’t nothing much to do ‘cept get shit-faced.”
And with a firm clap to the angel’s shoulder, Dean turned around and walked back towards the kitchen, where he’d left the whiskey on the table.
Cas stood for a moment and looked at the hunter’s retreating back. Dean’s tendency to drown his sorrows had always been worrying and his chest ached when he thought of what it would be like for him once his grace burnt out and he was gone. He’d lost count of how many times he’d fixed the damage Dean did to his liver.
“You coming, dude?” Dean called from the corridor.
Heaving a sigh, Cas followed him towards the kitchen. He could not get drunk and he doubted the alcohol would have any effect on him - but at least he could watch over Dean and hopefully steer him towards his bed soon.
—
"Why do you care so much 'bout personal space, Dean? I like your freckles - and your eyes - an' they’re so much nicer to look up from at close and -"
"Hey there buddy, careful!" Dean said amusedly, leaning forward and catching Cas’ whiskey glass before his friend spilled it. The angel in question was currently slumped forward across the table towards Dean, staring up at him with soulful eyes that reminded the hunter of a basset hound one of Bobby’s hunter friends had owned long ago. Cas, it turned out, was an affectionate drunk. And yes - drunk. Seemingly his fading grace left him vulnerable not only to tiredness, but also to inebriation.
"Dude you’re smashed," Dean laughed, looking at Cas as he clumsily reached for his glass. "You might wanna slow down there." Dean, for his part, had kept up his steady consumption of Jack Daniels since they’d sat down to drink together an hour ago and was steadily buzzed, but still mostly lucid. Cas, however, was a lightweight without his full angelic force and had caught up to Dean’s state of intoxication after only three glasses.
"'M not smashed. 'M not drunk. I cannot get drunk off the puny amounts of liquor I have comsun- consumed," Cas protested, voice slightly slurred, and took another gulp of his whiskey.
"Whatever you say, buddy," Dean responded, smiling into his glass.
Cas grimaced slightly at the burn of the liquor, but then stared back up at Dean, resting his slightly cocked head on his left arm on the wooden surface of the kitchen table. "’T was the hardest part to get right. Your eyes."
Dean raised an eyebrow, wondering if Cas had really managed to get drunk beyond coherency so fast. "What’s that?"
Cas only continued to stare at him intently, eyes slightly squinted. "When I rebuilt you. After I pulled - pulled you out of hell. Finding that particular shade of green - was - it was hard, Dean."
Dean’s hand froze with his glass halfway lifted to his lips. They hadn’t talked about this in years. And never before properly. After all this time, Dean tended to forget that Cas was - well, what he was. Especially now that his demeanour had become so much more human - though whether that was due to his involuntary stint as an actual human being or just a side effect of spending too much time with the Winchesters was anyone’s guess - it was strange to think that Cas, his best friend, had led the angelic charge on hell, had been the celestial being that had pulled him from the flames. And sitting here, hearing his friend talk about it in the tone of voice a petulant child might use to complain about particularly hard Math problem -
"I modelled it on the colour of the fields of heaven in the evening sunlight," Cas mused, never looking away from Dean’s face, as if contemplating a particularly intricate piece of artwork. "You’re beautiful, Dean."
The hunter set his glass down on the table with a clonk, spilling the rest of the whiskey, and coughed in embarrassment. "Okay, I think you’ve had enough, Cas."
"But I mean it, Dean. Your soul is the most radiant I have ever seen during my existence and its beauty is beyond compare - but also your body, it is -"
"Shit, Cas! You can’t just go round saying stuff like that to a guy," Dean snapped, cutting the angel off before he could spew any more embarrassing compliments.
Cas just looked at him in incomprehension, like a puppy unable to understand why it had been kicked. "But it is true."
"Okay!" Dean said loudly, snatching his friend’s glass away and emptying it in one gulp, hoping that the burn of the whiskey would force down the unwanted blush that the words had caused to creep up his neck. He then grabbed both empty glasses and the bottle and rose from the table. "Time for bed, buddy. You really need to sleep this off."
The angel stared at his suddenly empty hand in confusion, then seemingly registered Dean’s words. "But I don’t sleep, Dean. What should I do in bed?"
The unwanted innuendo of Cas’ innocent question really, really didn’t help Dean’s embarrassment and it was with some difficulty that he managed to maintain a straight face. "Well accordin’ to you, you also don’ get drunk. But here we are."
Cas blinked a few times and Dean wasn’t sure if he’d actually understood what was happening - if he knew that he was drunk. "I won’t sleep," Cas said eventually and Dean groaned.
"Fine," he said gruffly, gesturing with the bottle and spilling some more whiskey since he’d forgotten that it was still open. "Then I’m making you some coffee - because you need to sober up." Cas continued to look at him with deep blue eyes. "And stop starin’ at me like that, dude. It’s creepin’ me out!"
Leaving the angel still slumped across the kitchen table, Dean turned towards the counter and set the glasses and bottle down. It took him three tries to open the right cabinet to find the coffee beans - some sort of organic roast Sam had brought back from the store - and another two to fiddle with the water container of the coffee maker. It turned out that the kitchen could be uncooperative when it was swaying ever so slightly around him and he knocked over the almost-empty whiskey bottle in the process.
After a few minutes and some muttered curses, the coffee maker was finally bubbling away happily and Dean turned back around -
- only to find Cas staring intently at his open laptop.
All the blood drained from Dean’s face when he realised that Cas knew his password and he’d left the tab with the hentai porn open and on silent.
Well shit.
"Um. Cas, buddy. Whatcha lookin’ at there?"
The angel did not look away from his screen, only proceeded to tilt his head slightly. "It appears to be some sort of animated poronography," he said, sombre expression and serious tone slightly undercut by the slurring of his voice
Dean closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath, trying to keep his cool. Drunk. Castiel was drunk. And would hopefully forget this whole episode by morning.
"I do not believe that the animators are aware of the proper proportions of the human body," Cas stated evenly, squinting at the screen.
An involuntary groan escaped his lips and Dean ran a hand across his face despairingly. Even if Cas forgot about this episode, he wouldn’t. "Well, Cas, that’s part of the appeal," he ground out eventually because fuck it. This evening had gone straight to hell.
Castiel’s eyes flitted to Dean, widening slightly, then focussed on the screen once more. For a few moments, he continued to watch, eyes squinted, head cocked. Then, slowly, deliberately, he looked at his own lap and Dean felt his breath leave his body because holy hell, seriously?
"I see, Dean," Cas said, a slight waver in his voice that could not be attributed to the alcohol in his system. "Although I still believe that anal penetration with a penis this size would more likely cause pain rather than pleasure."
"Right, Cas, that’s -" Dean started to respond, but broke off abruptly when his friend’s words registered properly. "Hold on - anal?!"
The kitchen gave an indignant jerk as Dean stepped swiftly around the table, coming to stand behind Cas. He held onto the back of his friend’s chair to keep the room from swaying too angrily and stared at the screen in horror. Autoplay had seemingly done its worst. Vaguely, Dean remembered that the video he’d been watching of the hot blonde with the massive breasts getting fucked by her teacher in the locker room had been almost at an end when Cas had arrived. Now, a video showing two guys was flitting across the screen and Dean forgot how to breathe, heat suddenly coiling in his stomach.
The setting was a lavish bedroom, furnished with satin and velvet, the shot focussed on two men on the massive bed, kissing furiously. One of them was blonde and muscled, but clearly the bottom, pinned to the mattress by a dark-haired, blue-eyed man rutting against him. And yes, Cas was right - their cocks were gigantic and way out of proportion, leaking unrealistic amounts of pre-come even as their faces contorted in pleasure.
"Cas -" Dean rasped out when his voice finally functioned again. "Why are you watching gay porn?"
Cas seemed utterly unbothered by the situation - though whether that was due to the whiskey or his general lack of understanding of human social conventions was anyone’s guess. "You told me not to look at you anymore. And this was there," he stated, voice somewhat breathy.
Dean held onto the chair to keep the room from spinning, knuckles going white, unwanted heat sparking in his groin. "Right. Just - let me - I didn’t - I wasn’t -I ain’t -" he stuttered, trying to find a way, any way, to explain this situation away, but failing miserably. "That’s enough!" he eventually groaned, giving up his attempt to salvage the moment, leaning across Cas’ shoulder to shut the laptop down -
- and froze.
While moving forward, Dean had accidentally - accidentally! - looked down at Cas’ crotch. And not only was the angel rock-hard, he was also palming himself through the front of his slacks.
Arousal slammed into Dean so hard and so fast that it made the kitchen lurch.
"Are you enjoying this?!" he asked unnecessarily, eyes wide, voice husky, even as he felt his own cock swell hot in his jeans.
At hearing the hunter’s voice so close to his ear, Cas looked away from the screen and up at Dean, the palm of his right hand still unconsciously rubbing across the bulge in his trousers. "It is very arousing, Dean. Much more so than the babysitter and the pizza man."
Dean found he could not answer immediately, unable to break his gaze away from where Cas’ hand was moving back and forth across the erection concealed beneath layers of cloth. A few moments later, a wet spot appeared between the angel’s fingers, pre-come leaking through the fabric.
Breath punched back into Dean’s lungs and his eyes flew up to meet Cas’, his friend’s words finally registering fully. "More than the - Hold on, man. Are you saying you like gay porn better?"
Dean stared into the angel’s eyes, noticing with a jolt of fire in his blood that Cas’ pupils were blown wide, the black almost swallowing the intense cobalt blue of his irises. After a moment, Cas’ eyes narrowed and he turned back towards the screen, where the dark-haired guy was now enthusiastically fingering his lover’s hole, fingers pumping in and out in a blur, silent moans of pleasure escaping their lips.
Cas gave a little groan and his hips jerked forward. "I - I think so, Dean," he answered, voice definitely breathless now.
The hunter swallowed. Hard. This was - Was Cas -?
"Cas, are you gay?" he asked, the volume of his voice barely above a whisper.
His friend continued to watch the clip, not answering, a sigh escaping his lips as his palm pressed down onto his slacks.
Dean’s eyes flitted back to the screen, arousal burning in his skin, cock fully hard and straining against the denim of his jeans. The two guys were now fucking in earnest, the dark-haired man’s cock buried deep in his lover. The video was still on silent, but the English subtitles very clearly relayed the content. You feel so good. Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Give me your cock. Yes! There! Harder! Oh baby. I love you.
"Ah!" Cas gasped, hips jerking upward and out of his chair, seeking the pressure from his hand and Dean’s breath hitched.
"Cas!" he asked urgently. "Do you - do you want to do this with a guy?" He knew now was a bad time. It was late, they were both drunk and this was important. But the thrum of the whiskey in his brain, the little jolts of pleasure from where his cock rubbed against the front of his jeans, the small sighs of pleasure breaking forth from Cas’ lips made him forget why.
"Only with you." Cas finally answered in a trembling voice, his hand grasping desperately at his cock through his slacks.
Dean groaned deep in his throat and lost it.
In one fluid motion driven by lust and intoxication, he leaned forward and let his mouth graze across the shell of Cas’ ear, letting his right hand slide forward, down Cas’ chest and all the way to his lap.
Castiel fucking keened, thrusting into Dean’s touch greedily.
"Let me!" Dean groaned against his ear, fumbling clumsily with the button of Cas’ trousers. The angel had seemingly lost the ability to speak, only nodding furiously in response to his hunter’s demand.
Finally, the button popped. With trembling fingers, Dean tugged open Cas’ zipper and reached into his pants.
The moment his fingers wrapped around Cas’ rock-hard, throbbing cock, Dean moaned desperately, his own hips jerking forward and rubbing against Cas’ back, seeking friction at any cost.
"Shit, Cas!" He exclaimed, even as his angel moaned wantonly and thrust forward into Dean’s hand.
"Dean!" Cas cried in response, utterly ecstatic, blown away by the pressure and the heat of Dean’s palm. "Please! I need -" he moaned, trailing off, whether from uncertainty or overwhelming lust, Dean did not know.
Dean grinned against Cas’ ear and began to bite kisses down his jawline and neck as far as the cursed suit the angel still wore habitually would allow. "I got you, sweetheart. I got you," he breathed against his angel’s neck, tightening his grip on Cas’ cock and feeling the slick of Cas’ pre-come ease his thrusts.
Rubbing his own hard cock against the back of the chair, against the fabric of Cas’ eternal trench-coat, made sparks of pleasure fly up his spine, setting off fireworks in his alcohol-fogged brain. Finally, he could stand it no longer and pulled back his palm - ignoring Cas’ needy whine at the loss of contact - stepped around the chair and lowered himself onto the angel’s lap, crushing their mouths together in a desperate kiss.
The moan that broke forth from Cas’ lips was barely human in its intensity.
The angel panted and moaned against Dean’s lips, into his mouth, twisting his tongue against the hunter’s in unpracticed need, rocking against his hips desperately.
"Dean! Dean please, I need more!" he panted breathlessly between the clashing of their teeth and lips and tongues.
"Bedroom!" Dean groaned and ground against his angel hard one last time, before lifting off his lap and pulling Cas upright as well.
It was hard going. Both Dean and Cas were unsteady and uncoordinated and they stumbled towards Dean’s room in a tangle of limbs and lips and tongues, keeping each other from falling in turns and groping at the front of each others’ pants.
Finally, finally, Dean slammed Cas back against the dark wood of his bedroom door, reaching desperately for the handle, wrenching it open. The pair stumbled forwards into the darkness of Dean’s bedroom, door swinging shut behind them.
Another few steps and Cas’ hands on his ass, pulling him forward and grinding their cocks together and Dean felt himself hit the edge of his bed, falling backwards onto the welcoming softness of his memory foam mattress, the solid weight of Cas on top of him.
"Lights!" he groaned, reaching for the lamp on his bedside table and flipping the switch. In a flare of orange, the room was illuminated and Dean’s eyes focussed on the already debauched-looking angel on top of him, eyes lust-blown, lips kiss-swollen, cock marble-hard and grinding against him.
"Want you!" Cas growled, thrusting forward against Dean’s erection, his undone zipper dragging mercilessly against the fabric at the front of Dean’s jeans.
"Yes!" Dean groaned, unaware of his own surrender. "C’mon Cas!" he urged, thrusting upwards and against the weight of Cas’ body on top of his. He sighed when he felt his erection slide against Cas’, the feeling of another cock against his foreign, yet exhilarating, the feeling of another heavy, masculine body on top of his absolutely mind-blowing. He’d been ridden by girls before, but never ever had he given up control like this. "Take me!"
Cas positively snarled in response to his last statement and tore furiously at the fabric of Dean’s flannel, buttons flying as the fabric ripped under his fingers. Dean moaned and felt the angel’s fingertips drag across his naked chest as his t-shirt was lifted over his head. It was all he could do to focus on getting Cas naked too, pushing the trench coat and suit jacked off his shoulders, tearing the buttons off that cursed dress shirt. Layers upon layers of clothes landed in a heap on the floor and finally, Dean could slide his fingers under a plain grey undershirt, teasing Cas’ nipple, eliciting a moan, before tearing it over his head and baring his chest.
Moments later, they were both naked from the waist up and Cas took advantage, tangling his hand in Dean’s hair and pulling the hunter’s head back roughly, gaining access to his throat and furiously trailing kisses down his exposed jugular, across his clavicle, down his chest.
The hunter could only moan desperately and thrust up his hips in response, seeking friction, seeking release, utterly surrendering control of the situation to the angel on top of him. He did not know how he had ended up in this like this, only that he liked it. "Cas, please! " he begged, not even knowing what he was begging for.
Cas pulled back, looking down at Dean with what could only be described as a fucking leer, then reached down to undo the button and zipper of his jeans.
Dean moaned desperately when his cock was finally, finally released from its denim confines. He could already feel pre-come coating his head. And then, rough, undoubtedly masculine fingers wrapped around his cock, and Dean jerked wildly forwards. "Cas! Fuck" he groaned, thrusting up and into his friend’s tight fist.
Cas’ only response was to grin into their kiss, teeth clashing and tongues battling, sliding against each other slickly. The angel’s hard cock strained against the fabric of his boxers and Dean shoved them frantically down the angel’s hips, breath hitching when Cas’ dick finally slipped past his waistband, slapping wetly against his stomach.
For a moment, Dean froze, staring down at the purple, throbbing cock lying flat against Cas’ stomach, coating the line of fine, dark hairs running from his belly button towards his crotch with pre-come. The veins on the underside were bulging with blood, standing out against the rest of the rigid member in a testimony to the angel’s arousal. Then, saliva flooded his mouth in an instinctive reaction and he thrust his hips upward, bare cocks finally sliding against each other.
"Fuuuuuuuck" Dean groaned at the feeling of Cas’ dick sliding against his own.
Cas reached down between them, wrapping a hand firmly around both their lengths, providing a tight, hot channel to fuck into simultaneously and Dean forgot how to fucking breathe for a moment, utterly overwhelmed by sensation.
"Yes, Cas! Just like that, baby. So good! So good for me," he muttered, barely coherent from the pleasure of it, fucking wildly into Cas’ hand, against Cas’ dick. This was it. Already, he could feel the white-hot edge of his orgasm curling tightly in his groin, begging for release, approaching, closing in -
"AHHHHH!" Dean shouted and suddenly, the pressure was gone, leaving him hanging on the edge.
Confused, his eyes flew open, looking for Cas, for a reason why he would have stopped his.
Arousal thrummed through him when he saw his angel sitting back on his haunches, entirely naked now, dark eyes fixed on him, cock deep purple and leaking against his stomach. Almost unconsciously, Cas ran a hand along his length in slow, lazy motions, just watching Dean.
Then, he dove forward, tearing off Dean’s jeans and boxers all the way. Dean only had a moment to feel utterly exposed before Cas caught both of his legs and hoisted them across his shoulders, mouth trailing hotly down his stomach and fucking swallowing his dick whole.
"Caaaaaassss" Dean shouted as he felt the angel’s nose nuzzle in his pubic hair, his cock entirely buried in his mouth, head just grazing the back of Cas’ throat. It took every ounce of willpower Dean still possessed to keep himself from chasing release and thrusting forward fast and furious into the tight heat of Cas’ mouth.
But Cas moved on his own, sucking hungrily at Dean’s throbbing cock, providing just the right amount of suction, tongue gliding effortlessly against the underside of his dick, caressing the veins, the head, the slit and Dean felt like he just might lose his mind.
Then, once more, the pressure was gone and Dean let out a frustrated growl, hips jerking forward, desperately searching for the heat of Cas’ mouth.
But Cas’ mouth ventured lower and an undignified sob escaped Dean’s lips when the tip of the angel’s tongue flicked across his balls, leaving a wet trail, and ventured lower, lower, across his perineum, lower still and -
"Aahhhhh!"
- found his hole.
For a moment, Dean bucked, shying away from the touch because even in his intoxicated, uninhibited state, it felt like this was just too dirty, but Cas’ strong arms were holding him down, subjecting him to the pleasure, whether he wanted to or not.
And after a moment of Cas’ wicked, scorching tongue circling his entrance, it dove inside and Dean was lost, groaning incoherently as the angel shamelessly ate him out, moaning against his ass as if it was the best treat he’d ever tasted. His dick throbbed and strained against his stomach, leaving a wet pool of pre-come around his belly button, even as his hands fisted into the sheets.
"Fuck, Cas! Baby - just - ah! Inside! Get inside me!" he begged, hardly understanding what he was saying. "I need you. Need you inside me, now!"
A desperate moan escaped Dean’s lips when Cas’ abruptly stopped his ministrations and his eyes flew open, only to find the blue-eyed angel staring straight at him.
"Do you really want this, Dean?" Cas asked seriously, voice only slightly slurred.
Dean’s heart skipped one, two, three beats, then resumed its rhythm with a deafening thud. "Yes!" He breathed. "Please, Cas! Fuck me!"
The corners of the angel’s mouth curled upward in an almost predatory leer, and Cas surged forward, reapplying his tongue to Dean’s hole. Only this time, even as the hunter was squirming with pleasure, Cas added one finger, then two, scissoring Dean open carefully, slicked by saliva alone.
"Ah! Ahaaaa Caaaas!" Dean moaned, unconsciously reaching for his neglected dick and almost sobbing in despair when the angel noticed his motion and slapped his hands away.
"Not just now, Dean," he growled, sliding up Dean’s body to hungrily claim the hunter’s mouth, even as he slipped a third finger inside.
Through the peaty flavour of whiskey on Cas’ tongue, Dean could taste himself and it was almost enough to make him come right there, with the angel’s tongue slipping alongside his shamelessly.
Then, the pressure of Cas’ fingers disappeared and Dean whined at the loss.
"Cas! Please!"
A fraction of a second later, Dean’s field of vision was filled with the intense blue of Cas’ eyes, even as he could feel the tip of Cas’ cock aligning with his hole, precome leaking from the angel’s head.
Unable to contain himself, Dean surged forward, lips seeking lips and ass pressing against the steely hardness of Cas’ dick. Their tongues intertwined clumsily, but all that the hunter was aware of was the feeling of utter perfection as Cas’ cock slipped past his entrance, sliding further and further inside him. The stretch was painful for a second, but almost immediately, Dean felt the tell-tale tingle of Cas’ grace, easing his discomfort and further slicking his way until the angel bottomed out, fully sheathed inside his hunter’s tight heat.
"Dean!" Cas breathed shakily, twitching slightly forward, unable to contain himself. "Are you alright?"
For a moment, the Winchester was too incoherent to answer, overwhelmed by the feeling of being filled by Cas, surrounded entirely by his angel. Then, his brain caught up and he finally managed to make sense of Cas’ words. A cocky grin spread across his face and he lifted his hips off the bed, grinding against Cas. "Never better, baby. Now fuck me!"
Cas didn’t need to be told twice, thrusting forward desperately in response to the hunter’s cocky demand.
The pace he set was brutal, slamming in and out of Dean with barely human force, but the hunter revelled in the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, driving him closer to the edge at break-neck speed.
"Yes! Cas! There!" he gasped when the angel shifted his angle slightly, cock now brushing against Dean’s prostrate, making the hunter see stars with every thrust.
"Fuck!" Cas groaned, sliding in and out of Dean at a merciless pace. "I won’t - ah - Dean - I think I’m - ahhh"
"’S okay, baby. Just come on. Come for me, Cas!" Dean whispered into Cas’ ear and a split second later, he could feel his angel’s thrusts going erratic, stuttering, then stilling completely as Cas’ spilled inside him, warm release coating his insides.
It was that sensation - the feeling of being filled completely, brimming with the angel’s release - coupled with the look of utter bliss on Cas’ face that pushed Dean over the edge. Tears sprang to his eyes when his orgasm slammed into him with unmitigated force and he sobbed as he rocked forward, oversensitive cock brushing against Cas’ stomach in a mess of come, Cas’ cock slipping wetly in and out of his hole.
A few moments later, they stilled, riding out the last waves of their joint orgasms, boneless and limp in the aftershocks.
"Cas-" Dean groaned eventually, half-unconscious, trailing a weak hand down his angel’s side. "That was-"
"Yes." Cas murmured in return and shifted closer to Dean, pulling the hunter flush against his chest and breathing his scent in deep, utterly ignoring the mess of come between them.
Some remote, sober, part of Dean’s brain registered the enormity of what had just happened, the severity of the line that they had just crossed. But the present, admittedly drunk, Dean could not care less as he snuggled closer to his angel, drawing the covers across both of them best that he could. Consequences be damned. They could be dealt with in the morning.
—