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“Sam said you were looking for me…”

Cas trails into silence as he stops in the doorway of the dungeon, and Dean stares back at him for a moment, hoping the angel doesn’t take long to come in and close the damn door.

He gets his answer; Cas seems to realise the scene he’s been greeted with isn’t for other eyes, and shuts the door over behind him.

The angel advances slowly, looking carefully around him, paying particular attention to the ceiling and floor, before he’s finally standing in front of the hunter.

He reaches up, and undoes the gag filling Dean’s mouth.

“Is this a trap, an attack?”

Dean rolls his eyes, because holy fuck he got the smartest and yet somehow, at the same time, the dumbest angel in the garrison.

“No,” he groans. “It’s...you know…”

He tugs at the cuffs, and the chains, keeping his hands trapped above him, and hopes Cas gets the message without him having to spell it out because that is going to kill his interest in this pretty damn fast.

Which’d be a fucking shame giving the effort he’s put in and the massive hard on he’s sporting, that only got better (or worse, depending on your point of view) when he heard Cas’s footsteps approaching.

Cas is looking at him, shrewdly. “Dean, if you wanted my attention…”

“I want your attention,” Dean confirms. He wants it right fucking now, but Cas seems confused as to which type, and exactly how.

Dean’s naked, and tied up, in their damn dungeon, and Cas seems a little lost as to what exactly is going on.

“You always have it.” He looks somehow disappointed, as if he’s failed Dean in some unfathomable way.

“It’s hard to, you know, keep. To myself.” Dean refuses to jerk his hips forward, to drop any more hints, even though his body is aching for Cas to be up against him, touching him, doing anything he damn wants because Dean’s left himself pretty vulnerable here.

And that was, you know, his great idea.

“I can multitask,” Cas says, and then he looks at Dean, and Dean isn’t sure if he wants that little smartass’s paws anywhere near him.

“Oh, ha, ha, fucking, ha, you teasing little fuck,” he says, and can’t miss the way there’s an almost grin on Cas’s face. “Get moving will you? It’s freezing in here.”

Cas is holding the gag in his hand, and his gaze switches from it to Dean. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you tied yourself up. Naked.”

Dean huffs at him, because he’d been starting to wonder if Cas had actually noticed that part.

Cas touches his chest, lightly, fingers almost grazing his nipples but not quite, and the denial of it makes Dean hiss at him.

But then there’s an incredible warmth moving through him and Dean groans at the unexpected pleasure.

Cas withdraws his hand, and then he holds up the gag. “How will I know if you want me to stop?”

Dean jerks his head up, and Cas’s eyes follow, seeing the red ball grasped tight in Dean’s right hand. It’s the one they always use, when Cas is gagged, so that Dean knows if the angel is safewording.

It’s familiar, a good boundary.

He opens his mouth, and Cas slips the gag back inside, and fastens it securely but not too tight at the back of Dean’s head.

“So I can take it you want me to be in charge, this time.”

Yes, yes, he wants that. He wants Cas to do as he pleases, because as much as he loves it when Cas yields to him, and puts his entire being safe in Dean’s hands, he’s had this fantasy for a while.

Cas having free and open access, and him having to see just what his celestial can come up with.

“You’ll do what I say,” Cas goes on, and then the little fucker is laughing, Dean can hear it in his voice even if the sound of it is missing. “That’ll be a first. I might need to sit down.”

Dean glares at him, and Cas is a little mollified. But what he does next makes up for his sass; he strips slowly, and it’s torture.

Usually Dean takes care of that, and usually he doesn’t hang around, always too eager to be nestled inside the angel.

Today, he has to endure. Cas never takes his eyes from Dean’s, watching the hunter’s responses as he removes one item at a time, even going so far as to fold them and put them on the table nearby.

Oh, that little shit better make this worth while.

But then he’s never known Cas to disappoint, and he doesn’t now.

He steps up close to Dean, and kisses his way along his jaw, down his neck, and lingers there a while, sucking heat into the flesh of his shoulder, and Dean can almost feel the reddened bumps that must be rising there in Cas’s wake.

He yelps as Cas nips suddenly, but then the angel’s tongue is soothing over the flesh though he doesn’t heal it.

And while he’s doing that, his fingers ghost across Dean’s stomach, and chest, and tease him there for a while, rolling and lightly pinching his nipples, leaving Dean panting and drooling around the gag.

He jerks forwarded, trying to find something to rut against, but Cas just puts one hand on his hip and fuck angelic strength because it’s enough to hold Dean in place until Cas is satisfied.

When he starts to move back, Dean whines, but Cas doesn’t break fully away. Instead, he crouches down, the angle awkward, and sucks one of Dean’s nipples into his mouth.

There’s heat, and the graze of teeth, and pressure that’s just, just, the right side of pain, and he almost loses himself in it.

By the time he realises Cas has moved, the angel is standing behind him, and reaching around, and yes.

Cas’s hand is slick, so either he’s been abusing his Grace (not like that isn’t a regular thing because while Dean loves to prep Cas, sometimes he’s too impatient, they’re too impatient, and you know, alternate lube) or Dean has been out of it a little more than he thought, giving Cas the chance to get something to make things a little smoother.

He cups Dean’s balls, just holds them, and then rolls them gently, and it’s so not enough that Dean could cry.

But he left himself open to this, so really who can he blame?

There’s no warning, when Cas’s hand suddenly circles his cock, and starts an agonisingly slow climb along its length, following a curve that Dean daren’t look at because the feel of it is enough.

The return is equally tortuous, and Dean has to wonder just how long Cas is going to draw this out for.

Tears nip at his eyes, because he needs to come, and he feels like that isn't happening any time soon.

“Do you want to?” Cas asks, suddenly.

Dean jerks in surprise, realising maybe he’d been praying, literally, for mercy.

He nods, jerkily.

“You want to come?”

Again.

“Dean, do you want me to give you your release?”

He screams it through the gag, and hopes fuck that Sam didn’t hear that. But the higher thinking part of his brain reasons that Sam knows very well what they’re up to down here and is probably half way through Lebanon by now to find some safe, neutral territory.

Cas lets him go and Dean’s crying him for everything, the tormenting, sadistic little prick tease-

Cas hushes him with a disappointed look. He’s standing in front of Dean, and he waits until Dean settles before he speaks.

“If you want to come, you are going to do it in me. Or not at all. Those are your options.”

Dean looks desperately up at the chains. Yeah, he’s resourceful and determined, but come fucking on.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Cas says, and then he snaps his fingers and the chains unlock and fly aside.

The cuffs stay on, and then Cas is getting to his hands and knees, and Dean figures that’s what the hand job was all about.

He makes a questioning noise, and Cas looks back at him, which may be the hottest fucking visual Dean’s ever experienced.

“I’m ready.”

Well, of course he is. Sneaky fucking angel.

Dean drops down awkwardly behind him, and hopes Cas realises he’s going to have to do a lot of the work here. With his hands bound, Dean can’t hold on anywhere, he’s got no purchase, and the last thing either of them wants is an unsatisfying fuck to finish this off.

He manages to grab himself, and line up, but Cas holds fast so that Dean can push in, one rock hard inch at a time.

Keeping it slow almost hurts, but just because Cas might have prepped himself doesn’t mean Dean’s going to jackhammer himself in there.

And then he’s fully seated, and Cas’s body is a taut line of pleasure, and expectation, and Dean isn't sure how he’s going to do this.

Until Cas starts to sit back, and reaches around to touch one of Dean’s arms, and he gets it, then.

Getting his arms over Cas’s head and around him is a little tricky, but he manages, and then the angel is flush up against him, with Dean’s cock still buried in his ass, and Dean’s cuffed hands pressing tight against his middle.

Dean holds Cas as tight as he can, and moves, every thrust jerking Cas, drawing a grunt from him, as he pushes Cas closer, and chases him behind him.

He comes first, despite trying to hold it back, but he keeps pulsing into Cas, and finally, finally, Cas follows, streaking come over Dean’s bound wrists.

They can’t move for a moment, and then Cas taps Dean’s wrists and the cuffs fall away. He eases forward, Dean slipping out of him, and and turns around to undo the gag and remove it.

“Are you alright?”

Dean pulls Cas into his arms, and kisses him, hard, filthy, but yeah, exhausted as well.

“Perfect,” he says. “Absolutely perfect.”