Chapter 1: Desperation/Omorashi
Castiel wasn’t the jealous type, but he was lonely tonight.
He never used to get that way, and he wasn’t sure this was a welcome change. Tonight was the first night in over a month that he and Dean were spending apart, and he didn’t know how to feel. Benny and Garth had insisted Dean come to the bar to celebrate something or another, and Dean wanted Cas to go with them, but Cas had work he wanted to get done while he had peace and quiet.
Dean was wonderful to have around, but he’d been a distraction even before Castiel had gotten his hands on him.
Castiel’s head jerked up, but he forced it back down after a moment. No. No, no, that probably wasn’t a deer.
Rabbits also lived in the woods. It was likely a rabbit—a morbidly obese rabbit, heavy enough to snap sticks under its ridiculously plump body.
He rubbed his jaw, and refocused his energy again.
Energy. Yes, all the energy needed to pool in his hands. Come on. Focus.
*Rustle, crackle, rustle rustle rustle, snap*
And that was definitely Dean. He wasn’t supposed to be back yet—was he not having a good time with his friends?
Dean swore softly, then whipped around. “Hey, Cas. I didn’t mean to bother you when you were casting.”
Cas quirked a brow as he stood, watching as the other man’s eyes tracked down the length of his naked, henna-marked body and back up. Dean flushed.
“Then perhaps you should have walked through the front yard and not the back.”
Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I wasn’t thinking. The ol’ liquid diet, ya know how it is.”
“I don’t, actually?” Cas tilted his head.
“Never mind. Um, I’d love to stay and chat, but, um, I’ve kinda got a thing I’ve gotta go do, so—”
“Yeah, um, I’ll run take care of it, then I can come back and say hi, ok?”
“Are you going home already?”
“Hm? Oh, no, just...fuck, Cas.” Dean groaned and made an odd hopping movement, pressing his knees tight together. “I was running back to the house to take a leak real quick. Someone wrecked Ellen’s bathroom tonight, and there’s no way I’m going in there.”
Cas felt a tingle of excitement slide up his spine, and stepped closer, not bothering to hide his own nudity. “You weren’t planning to relieve yourself in my yard again, were you?”
Dean pinked, the rosy color a beautiful backdrop to the tiny dark stars dotted over his skin, tempting Cas not for the first time to look for constellations on his flesh. “No, I learned my lesson on that.”
“Have you now?” He stopped a handbreadth from Dean, close enough to see the other man’s eyes dilate before he looked away, squirming. “Are you sure it’ll never happen again?”
“Cas, I really gotta—”
“Hmmm. You do, don’t you?” He raised a hand to the side without looking, waking the vines trailing near them, then sending them to snake up Dean’s legs.
“Cas—” Dean lost whatever he was going to say on a gasp when Cas gripped him hard, hands low by his waist waist, then spun him and pressed his hips flush against Dean’s clothed rump.
“You’re sure you can keep yourself from ever doing it again? No matter how full you are?” Castiel pressed a hand to his lover’s lower stomach, his fingers pressing, searching for the man’s bladder. “No matter how desperate you get?”
Dean squirmed in his grasp, pulling his legs tight together and squeezing.
“Nah-ah-ah, none of that.” Cas clicked his tongue, even as the vines loosely wrapped around Dean’s legs tightened under Castiel’s magic, splaying his stance wide.
“Cas, shit, Cas, please—” Dean moaned.
“If you want me to stop, you need to tell me,” Cas whispered.
Dean just moaned louder as Cas pressed harder on his bladder, kneading the already tortured organ. He slicked a vine with his magic, snaked it down the man’s crack, tight inside his jeans, and teased at Dean’s rim, still loose and no doubt a little sore from where Cas had taken him before Dean left to meet his friends. The vine slipped in easily, and he sent it deep, searching until he could press it against Dean’s bladder from the inside, then held it there.
“You’re so full, aren’t you, baby?”
“Y-yeah.” Dean’s voice was breathless as he panted and squirmed in Castiel’s hold.
Cas pressed in sharply with his hand, and Dean whimpered as a small wet spot appeared at the front of his jeans.
“You’re doing so well, Dean. Holding all that in. How much did you drink tonight?”
“I don’t even know,” Dean whimpered, arching his back as Cas added a second vine inside him, and a second hand to his abdomen, working the over-sensitive flesh. “A lot. I didn’t want to get—shit—I didn’t want to get dehydrated and have a hangover so I had a glass of water between each—fuck!—between each beer, and—Cas!”
“Mmm, so responsible of you, Dean.” Cas wished briefly he had a waterfall or fountain in his yard. But then, he wouldn’t get to tease Dean for quite as long, with the rush of running water pushing him over the edge. “So responsible, but now you’re all stretched, aren’t you? Having trouble not thinking about letting it all go, hm? Feeling that release? It would be so good, wouldn’t it?”
He kept rubbing, rubbing, rubbing, each pass pressing a little deeper, a little more insistently against Dean, until the man’s head was thrown back on Castiel’s shoulder, his whole body shivering with the effort not to—
And there it was.
One last firm press with both hands and both vines, and Dean whimpered in defeat. His body tried to curl inwards, but the vines kept him upright and spread open. Cas watched the wet spot grow, spreading over Dean’s crotch and down the legs of his jeans, pooling around his feet.
“Cas,” Dean whispered. “Cas.”
“I’m here, Dean. What do you say we get you inside, clean you up, and put you to bed?”
“Mmmm.” Dean sagged back against him as the vines left his body, his expression relaxed and sleepy.
Castiel scooped him up in a bridal-carry, and took him inside, leaving his casting materials scattered around his altar in the yard. The moon would still be there tomorrow.
Chapter 2: “That shouldn’t be used as lube, dude.”
“Cas, you don’t have to do that for me,” Dean murmured, the drowsy tone of his voice telling Cas he was still a bit out of it from their play in the yard, even more than the pliant feel to his body. “I can dress and undress myself.”
“I want to do it.” He finished stripping Dean of his shirt, then unbuttoned his jeans, working the damp fabric down his legs together with his boxers.
Dean scrunched his face, no doubt at the cold, wet feeling slicking down his leg with his pants. “Can’t you just magic it away or something?”
“I could.” Dean’s clothes gone, Cas straightened to slot against him, trailing his palms over his body the whole way up, then nibbled at his neck. He traced his tongue along the shell of Dean’s ear, ghosting his breath over it. Dean rewarded him with a shiver, and Cas couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. “But I’m not going to. There’s something to be said for doing things the old fashioned way from time to time.”
The cold air from the shower stall had already turned to steam as the water heated up, and Cas knew it was ready without even putting his hand in. Before he could nudge Dean forward, Dean shifted his hips, not so subtly feeling for Castiel’s length against his rear, but Cas wasn’t hard, despite Dean’s appealingly freckled body being on display.
Right now, he was feeling more tender than aroused.
“C’mon. In you go.”
“Cas—” Dean’s voice came out on a whine, but Cas just chuckled, soft and dark and full of promise.
He leaned closer, biting again at Dean’s ear, mouthing the words around the tender skin. “Step in, for me?”
Dean groaned, his head falling back onto Castiel’s shoulder briefly, but he complied, raising both feet over the lip and into the nearly scalding stream.
Cas was quick to follow, and he adjusted the water temperature down ever so slightly, enjoying how pink it’d already made Dean’s skin. Granted, it was possible the flush was from the pet name, too. Dean was still deliciously embarrassed over such things.
“You’re my good boy, aren’t you, dearest?”
“Cas—” Dean whimpered again, shifting as Castiel pressed against him, one knee sliding between Dean’s, supporting him as he faced the shower spray currently hitting him at the base of his throat, the droplets cascading down his chest.
Dean squirmed, slowly hardening as Cas worked a lather all over his body, paying extra attention to Dean’s tender spots. The nape of his neck, the curve of an elbow, the tweak of a nipple, a palm at the softness beneath Dean’s belly button, fingertips brushing Dean’s eager erection as he did so.
A soap slick hand jacked Dean gently, working up and down over his length, and Dean arched his back with a gasp, the wordless plea falling from his lips.
Cas could lose himself in those noises all day, and never grow tired.
He slipped his free hand between them, and prodded Dean’s loose rim with two fingers, nudging, nudging, keeping a rhythm with the other hand moving too slowly over Dean’s cock. Cas lost track of time as he teased, ignoring the gradual appearance of his own erection, too overcome by watching Dean come apart to pay attention.
Dean’s mind was nearly under when Cas pressed a finger in, forgetting there wasn’t anything but soap on it until Dean hissed and twisted several inches away from the attempted intrusion. “That shouldn’t be used as lube, dude.”
Castiel huffed. “Then perhaps we should relocate this to the bedroom.”
“The water’s gettin’ cold anyway.”
Chapter 3: Is this sanitary?
Once Dean was sprawled beneath Cas on the mattress, he moved slowly over Dean, hands held in hands, their shower-flushed skin creating a delightful friction between their chests. He could tell when the stimulation hit Dean’s nipples, always so sensitive, so tender. So responsive.
Dean moaned and threw his head to the side when Cas pressed his hips down, down, grinding against the cock now rapidly plumping under the attention, falling heavy against Dean’s stomach.
“Do you want something, darling?” He sank down between Dean’s legs, pinning him in place with his weight, his hands, his mouth. Dean mumbled into his lips, and Cas drew back after plundering, tasting for a moment more. “What was that?”
“What do you want, sweetheart?”
Dean huffed. “You always make me say it.”
“Mmm. Wouldn’t you, if you were me?”
It only took a few more minutes of gentle teasing, of sweet, sweet torture, before Dean complied.
“You want me to say it? Fine.” He bit down on Castiel’s shoulder hard, then whispered into the bruised skin. “I want your cock in me, filling me up. I want you to ride me into this mattress until you can’t take it anymore, and you lose control, finishing hot and sticky and warm and so fucking good, buried inside me.”
Dean started laving his tongue over the sensitive bite mark on the cord of his shoulder, and this time it was Cas that groaned. He lifted up high enough to work Dean’s legs over his own shoulders, then pooled magic in his hand, slicking several fingers the same way he liked to slick the vines outside.
He eyed the bedroom window briefly, wondering how his transplants were doing in their heavily spelled soil, tucked behind the shrubs. Not tonight, but surely they’d be ready soon. It’d be a nice surprise for Dean, he hoped.
For now, he prodded again at Dean’s freshly cleaned hole, his finger sliding in easily to the first knuckle. Given it was Dean’s third time being penetrated since they’d gotten home from work today, the second finger was quick to follow.
Both digits crooked forward, seeking, seeking, looking for that tiny bundle of nerves that should be right...there. He pedalled them against the spot, alternating pressure, adding more slick as he worked the nerves, as he scissored them, and Dean wailed, clearly torn between twisting into and away from the heady stimulation, all at once. Cas kept it up until Dean was leaking onto his chest, his legs squeezing Cas around the ears, then pulled out, using another burst of magic to clean his fingers.
A bit more slick on his cock, and Cas leaned over Dean, bending him nearly in half as he kissed him, slow and tender, then spoke against his lips. “Are you ready for me?”
“I’ve been ready for you,” Dean groaned, wriggling his hips, working Castiel’s length into his crevice. “I’ve been ready since you had me bound up in the yard with your damn vines in me instead of your cock.”
Cas tsked, but decided not to correct him for making demands, even in jest, not after how intensely they’d played outside. There was still a chance Dean could drop from that, a chance that once his arousal faded, he’d panic over the fact he’d lost control over such a basic function of his body, even though Cas had pushed him into it.
He’d learned early on that despite Dean’s confident swagger, it was best to be gentle with him when they explored the edges of their play space, while pretending not to be.
“Hm. I suppose you’ve done well enough for me tonight,” he murmured. “A reward is probably in order.”
Before Dean could comment—or sass him—he lined up and slid in to the hilt, sheathing himself in Dean’s warmth. He rocked into Dean, gentle, steady, moving his hips in a soft rhythm, pausing every so often to pin Dean in place the way he liked, make him feel every inch. Cas intended to make love to him, make him feel cherished, give him something to remember in case he started to feel negatively about tonight.
Dean wasn’t having it.
Before long, he started arching his hips under Cas, canting them up in time with his slow thrusts, forcing each one one to smack harder, force deeper, his little groans and whimpers urging Cas on every bit as much as the hands clawing at his shoulder blades.
Castiel knew there’d be long marks down either side of his spine after this, but he didn’t care. He folded over Dean, the angle too awkward to maintain his attention to Dean’s prostate, but the sucking and biting and marking it allowed him to do along Dean’s collarbones seemed to be an acceptable substitute, as Dean’s keening increased in volume.
Cas felt an ache building low in his belly, his balls drawing up as he thought of people seeing Dean marked up like this, the way Dean would flush and squirm a little, knowing what they were looking at, freckles and bruises on pink skin.
He briefly considered doing higher on Dean’s neck, too, but that was something he needed to ask when they weren’t both too overcome by pleasure to safely make decisions that couldn’t be hidden by Dean’s shirt.
“Cas, Cas please, please, I need...I need more, please—”
Cas snapped out of admiring his handiwork, realizing his thrusts had slowed and lost their rhythm, and Dean was squirming desperately beneath him, seeking friction against Castiel’s stomach, squeezing his channel around Castiel’s length, trying to urge Cas on by any means available to him.
He nuzzled one last time against Dean’s neck, whispering, “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
Once he’d let Dean’s legs down, Cas gripped his calves in either hand, angling himself so he could punch hard into Dean’s prostate with each thrust, and catch Dean up to how desperately close to the edge Cas himself was.
He thrust harder, harder, and Dean’s hands came down, eager to finish himself off, but Cas slapped his hands away.
Another well-aimed thrust, then another, another, and another, and Dean was spilling, releasing, his orgasm splashing across his belly and up onto his chest. Before long, Cas followed him over the edge, dropping Dean’s legs and bracing himself on Dean’s chest as Cas shuddered over him.
When the static faded from his brain and his vision returned, he realized his hands were coated in Dean’s come. He started to pool magic to clean it, then stopped, grinning the lopsided smile that usually got him his way instead as he smeared it on Dean, rubbing it into his skin.
Dean’s nose scrunched, and Cas resisted the urge to kiss it. “Cas, I just showered.”
“Mmmm, I know, now you’ll smell like sex all day tomorrow.”
“I don’t think this is sanitary.”
“I’ll ‘magic you off’ later if it bothers you.”
Dean continued making small grumbling noises, but rolled into the little spoon position without getting up to rinse off, tugging Cas into position behind him.
Cas nuzzled his neck, kissing the marks he’d left. “I’m glad Ellen’s bathroom was ruined, though I suppose that’s unfortunate for her.”
Dean slapped his arm, but not hard enough to sting. “Dude.”
“What? I missed you.”
Dean made another disgruntled noise, but Cas could hear the smile beneath it, see it in the slight upturn of Dean’s mouth. “I missed you, too, Cas. You should come with us next time.”
“Are you going to wear those jeans again?”
“If you wear those jeans next time, I’ll go.”
“Okay,” Dean whispered.
“After all, it’s important that you stay properly hydrated. I would be remiss if I didn’t ensure you consumed enough fluids.”
He couldn’t help but laugh, but gripped Dean’s hips hard, stilling his shifting movements. “Sleep, sweetheart.”
“Not sleepy.” Dean yawned once, then again. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, dearest.” He returned his arm to Dean’s midsection, squeezing him tightly. Dean was a distraction, but he was the best kind of distraction, and somehow, Cas didn’t mind anymore. He hadn’t minded in a long time. Perhaps...perhaps Dean would be willing to move in, then he could distract Cas all the time. Q would be pleased.
Cas eyed the window again, as Dean’s breathing evened, rasping slightly in his throat. He would check on his vines tomorrow, and think of how to ask Dean.