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Dean moans softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead with an anxious swipe of his fingers. His heart is leaping in his chest like it always does at this part, when the dark haired man on the screen looking rumpled and fucked out already, his beige trenchcoat pushed up, his pants tugged down, his knees getting bruised on the floor as a man fucks into him from behind and another fills his mouth. Full, pink lips stretched around a cock, as another man stands beside him and another stands in front of him, and the shadows of more are nearby and the blue eyed man groans as much as he can around a thick cock. His own erection is ignored as the men use him for their pleasure.

Dean's hand speeds up on his dick, as the video progresses, and he adds a lubed finger to his hole. He wonders what it would be like to be one of those men on the screen, getting to use the Blue Eyed Beauty (or Angel, as his screen name was) for his own pleasure. The thought of hooking up with his favorite porn star is so hot, and Dean can't make up his mind whether to fuck onto the fingers in his ass, or into the fist around his cock.

He doesn't care how many times he's seen this video - and it's been a lot - it's still the hottest thing he's ever seen. Angel moaning for it, Angel getting stuffed full until the men are satisfied and pull out just long enough to cum on his skin and his clothes and his hair. Angel taking it so good, his thick cock rocking beneath him as he's fucked six ways to Sunday. And oh god, the number of times Dean's gotten his rocks off just looking at that fat, dripping, beautiful cock, swaying back and forth with his motions, making the most delicious sounds as it slaps against Angel's stomach. Dean would love nothing more than to get impaled on that cock.

With that thought in mind, he absently searches the bed for the vibrator he kept aside for this purpose, not wanting to miss even a second of the video. Thick and long, it is the closest toy he has to Angel's cock in size.

He covers it in lube so it's nice and slick and then lines the head up with his stretched hole, arm contorted behind him, feeling that familiar ache in his shoulder that's always worth it. He pushes it into himself slowly, moaning into his other fist, knuckles between his teeth, as it stretches him. He has to breathe for a minute to adjust, watching Angel on his screen as the last man cums white in his hair and another takes his place at his lips.

Dean thrills at the sight that Angel makes - his head covered in white, dick still hard and throbbing so hard that Dean can make it out even through the screen, lips swollen and red from being stretched so much.

He adjusts the girth of the toy inside him until it rests against his prostate and turns on the vibrations to the lowest setting

Instantly it's almost too much, it's so good, the stimulation, and the video, and the size, and he groans, shutting his eyes for a second and writhing on the already twisted sheets and blankets of his bed. As much as Dean wants to stretch out the session, it's getting too much for him to hold back an orgasm for much longer. He hasn't been able to have this for a while, he's been so damn busy at the auto-shop, understaffed and overworked. He's so tired and so horny and Angel gives him exactly what he needs every time.

“Angel,” he moans, barely twisting the toy inside him, but feeling everything as it barely spins.

"Oh fu-uh-ck!" Dean groans at the vibrations of the toy against his extremely sensitive prostate. At this point, he knows that it'll take him only a few more well timed thrusts to cum all over the bed.

Unwilling to get the sheets dirty - dirtier - he changes his position a bit to angle his cock over his stomach. True to his prediction, it takes only a couple more thrusts before he feels his warm cum splash all over his stomach and chest. He gasps and pants, coming down slowly as the last men take Angel on screen, and he finally gets to come on their cocks alone.

It's a damn shame, he thinks, that Angel doesn't make videos that often because he gives Dean the best orgasms, even without being there in person.

Muscles that feel like they haven't relaxed for weeks ease as he pulls the toy out and drops it until he can get the strength to go and wash up. He pauses the screen on the last few seconds when it seems like Angel is looking directly at him with a weary expression, his blue eyes bright, and the smallest smile on his pink, swollen lips. Dean would willingly sell his soul to see that view in his bed, rather than just on a screen. Dean sighs. If only.

It takes him longer than usual to will his tired body up, and he decides that taking a shower is too much work right now. He just wipes off the cum and washes his face before heading back to bed, tired, sore, and sated in the best possible way. At least he's not sexually frustrated anymore and won't shout at his poor colleagues over the tiniest of things when he has to wake up tomorrow and go back to work.

Thoughts filled with blue eyes and satisfied smiles, he drifts off to sleep.

The blare of Dean’s alarm has him groaning thickly and burying his head in his pillow immediately. Blindly, he slaps at it until it shuts off, tugging the pillow down over his head, one knee propped up underneath him, nose and cheek quashed against the bed, sheets twisted and clinging to his skin. He was so out of it the night before he didn't pull on pajamas, so his cock is nestled comfortably between him and the sheets, his body feeling lax and tingly and good. Better than he's felt in weeks.

Even half asleep, a smile tugs one corner of his lips as he remembers the night before and wastes a luxurious second or two grinding his morning wood into the sheets. He can't stay… he has to go into work, but… just for a minute.

Dean is feeling too relaxed this morning that not jerking off to get rid of his morning wood doesn't even put him in a bad mood. He goes through his morning routine in a happy daze, lost in the thoughts of blue eyes and a gravelly voice. He wonders if Angel's voice was gravelly because of sex, or if he sounds that fucked out naturally as well. Mmm, that's the pleasant thought that keeps him occupied all morning.

The stellar orgasm, however, is the only thing that keeps him in a bubbly mood today, (not that he'd ever use THAT b-word in front of anyone), and being swamped with work in the garage is pleasant enough when he has thoughts of that man to get him through his shift.

It's late, nearly closing time, and he's worn out from a hard day’s work. Most everyone is gone, or, in fact, now that he thinks about it, Bobby said something about going home earlier, hadn't he? So he may actually be the last one here tonight.

Breathing out a puff of air, he tightens a loose bolt under the hood of the car he's currently working on, hoping to have it done before next week. It's mostly mindless work right now, so his thoughts have again returned to that happy place Angel has become. Just spending his time thinking of dark hair… brilliant blue eyes when they're lust blown, and the sound of his voice like velvet and rocks and whiskey.

He's wiping his hands on a dirty rag when he hears a car pull in. Hmm, the engine sounds old, and he wonders if it's a good classic car or one of the bad ones. Just as he turns around to greet who is probably the last customer of the day, he hears a very familiar voice call out, "Hello? Are you still open, or are you closed for tonight?"

A shiver shoots up his straightening spine, the wrench slipping from his fingers to bang loudly on the ground. That voice… oh god, that voice. Did he - Could he have just imagined it? Blood surges from his brain directly to his dick as he squints around the headlights of the car that just pulled in, until suddenly they blink off, and a man exits his vehicle. A man that looks… intimately impossibly familiar. Holy shit, is this really--? Is he really him!?

Did he just die? Is this heaven? This surely can't be his favorite pornstar standing in front of him. The-best-orgasm-of-his-life-pornstar. Fuck. Unable to Compute given data. Error: 404. File not found.

“Uhh…” comes intelligently from his lips. “You--”

The man - the man he knows as Angel - approaches, and he's - he’s fucking wearing… Is this a dream? Is the pornstar he-he came to last night really in his garage, looking at him, wearing nearly the same DAMN blue suit and beige trenchcoat!?

“Hello,” the man repeats in his voice of sin, “Are you Winchester? Of… Winchester Auto?” And, fuck, okay, turns out the man sounds fucked out, even without having sex after all. His hair also looks fucked out, like fingers have been tugging it - without having sex. And his blue eyes, oh… How does anyone expect Dean to hold a conversation when all he can think about is how much he wants to get fucked by this man? How he’s literally freaking fantasized about it for months. How can he function when all he sees are those eyes looking at him when he's seen them pupil-blown and satisfied?

He realizes he still hasn't replied yet. Dean licks his very dry lips and swallows before opening his mouth with the hopes of sounding not like a Neanderthal.

"I, uh, yes. I'm-I'm Dean Winchester. What can I do to-for- you today?" Dammit, brain.

"Dean Winchester," Angel says slowly, testing out the name. "Hello, I'm Castiel."

Something swoops in Dean’s stomach. “C-Castiel? Sounds like… I dunno, maybe an angel or-or something?” His voice squeaks slightly on “angel,” and he prays to God Cas didn't notice.

A small smile spreads on the fat pink lips he's seen wrapped around a dozen different dicks (Now is not the time to think about how those lips would look wrapped around his own dick). “It is! Castiel is an angel’s name. My parents were very religious. A proclivity I don't share, but I use the name for my own… purposes.”

Yeah, you do, Dean thinks, swallowing slowly.

“Anyway,” Castiel continues, his gaze surreptitiously sliding down Dean’s dirty, oily shirt and jeans. Shit, he's probably used to dealing with much cleaner men. (Don't think about Cas dealing with men!) “My car has been rattling discomfitingly lately. She made an unhappy noise when I went out for groceries earlier, and I thought I better bring her in."

"I, yeah, good thing you did, turn her on - start her engine - let me hear what noises she's making. Let's figure out what ails the Lady." Dean thankfully doesn't stumble over his words, slipping into Mechanic Mode, for the time being. Although it doesn't last long because Cas has to step almost into Dean's personal space to look over his shoulder after he starts her up.

She's an old 1978 Lincoln Continental that seems to be in pretty good shape when he opens her up. Clean, with newer parts replacing the ones that simply got too old, the old parts seemingly tenderly cared for. “I try to take care of her.” Castiel is so close, Dean can actually feel his breath on his neck. It has goosebumps spreading down his skin, and he tries very hard not to flinch. “Clean her, change the oil regularly…”

Warming in a completely different way, Dean glances at him, shocking at how near he is, blue eyes attentive and concerned. Dean’s dick gives a twitch at the closeness. He's so hard and he hasn't even been touched yet. This is, okay, inappropriate, but he can't stop the way the blood in his body is moving south at every second.

“I can see that,” he replies with a smile. “Might be a belt broke. I just, uh, have to look under your-her- hood.”

"Of course," Cas says with a genuine smile. "I do what I can for her but I'm not a mechanic. My hands can do a lot but taking care of her the way she deserves is not really on the list." He says with a smirk, almost as if he knows what effect his words are having on Dean and his poor dick.

Dean almost lets out a whimper at the way that mouth twists into a smirk; biting into his lip to stop any sounds from escaping his mouth.

Cas raises an eyebrow that makes Dean want to fall to his knees. He says something -he’s pretty sure, but the words don't seem to make the trip to Dean's brain. His knees suddenly seem to be having trouble supporting his own damn weight. “I, uh… What-What was that?”

Cas’ chest rumbles with a chuckle Dean can feel all the way to the base of his spine. “I said, 'Are you quite alright?’ You seem a little… flushed.”

"I-I'm fine." Dean says, sounding unconvincing to his own ears. Cas looks down Dean's body again, and Dean's pretty sure his lips twitch when they land on his crotch. He's also sure that the gaze stops at his crotch for longer than necessary but that might just be wishful thinking. Oh boy, Dean really hopes Cas can't make out the massive erection he's currently sporting. He seriously doesn't want to look like a creep in front of the man.

“I just - uh - it's been a long day,” Dean adds, swiping a thumb down his jaw and forcing himself to swallow when Castiel again meets his eyes.

"Is there any way I can help you… De-stress?" Cas asks. And god, he has to know what he's doing, certainly. No one can be that naive and yet work in the porn industry. … Right? Please, please let him know what he's doing, don't let this all be in Dean's painfully aroused head.

“I could think of a few things,” he says, halfway between cocky and strangled. “But I probably shouldn't ask those of a customer.” He continues with a wink.

Cas takes a step forward, standing just centimeters away from Dean, and leans forward to speak into Dean's ear. "I think we're both adults and can make decisions for ourselves. I also think we both know what exactly has been going through that frustratingly sexy head of yours, so why don't we stop tip toeing around each other and get straight to it?" He says in a throaty voice, right at Dean's ear.

Dean's cock twitches so hard he can feel the precum spurt from it into his boxers. “Fuck, Cas,” he says, his voice dropping at least two octaves, warmth suffusing his face and spreading down his neck. Everything wells up inside of him.

Cas pulls back to meet his eyes, cheekbones so sharp, he could cut himself on them, eyes so liquid he feels like he's drowning. Oh god, he wants this.

Tangling a hand in the messy hair of Castiel’s head, he drags him in to a kiss.

Now Dean understands what people mean when they talk about 'sparks'. He can practically feel them shocking along his skin, painfully aware of each point of contact between him and Cas. And, oh, his lips are perfectly soft against his own, and his body is emitting heat that could get him through the harshest of winters. Cas' stubble drags against his face and HOLY FRACK, he wouldn't mind getting a stubble burn on his ass with Cas’ talented tongue at his hole.

Cas lets out a pleased sounding hum and grips Dean’s waist, just above his hips, pulling him in forcefully so he's pressed to Castiel’s front from chest to hips. Pleasure shoots through his gut as their cocks slot together, and he feels Cas fever hot and aching hard against his groin. A moan slips past his lips that Cas swallows up, that tongue teasing along his own and actually driving him crazy.

This is happening. Holy shit, this is happening! Cas - Castiel - Angel - is kissing him, and it's equally nothing like he imagined and everything he ever did.

Dean lets out an embarrassingly loud moan when Cas latches onto his neck, sucking lightly and nibbling on the skin there.

Dean wraps an arm around Cas' waist, and it takes him all his willpower to get out the following words.

"So - this is crazy, but - shit - c-come over to my place? I need you, Angel - C-Cas. I need you to fuck me, please. Oh fuck - come with me please,” he practically begs.

“‘Angel?’” Castiel purrs, his voice so guttural Dean can feel the vibrations along his skin. “You just called me-”

Oh shit! Dean thinks, flushing even darker as Castiel's questioning eyes look over his face.

“Have you…” he trails off, eyes lighting up and lips curling into a smile that Dean actually thinks might kill him. “You've seen my productions, haven't you. That's why you were so flustered,” he says, like it suddenly all makes sense.

“I-I-I--” Dean starts, eyes going anywhere but Cas’ face. “It's just a-a term of--” he tries.

Dean,” Castiel growls in a demanding tone that goes straight to Dean's dick. "Don't try to weasel your way out of this. I know you've seen my movies, and let me assure you, the real thing is much better than anything you could see on screen." He smirks. That bastard. "Now, take me to your place, because I would very much like to lay you out like a buffet and have my way with you."

“Fuck, fuck, Cas, okay.” Dean's hips thrust into nothing as Cas pulls away completely, shuts off his own car, and starts following him to the black car parked outside the garage.

It's like Dean can feel every shift of the clothes he's wearing on his skin, every breath of air, every touch of pressure as he slides into the driver's seat, his body suddenly and completely awake.

“She's beautiful,” Cas says once they get there, grazing his hand on the dashboard and admiring the leather of Baby's seats when he slides in beside him, the bulge in his pants lewd and fucking tempting. “I would love to have sex in this car someday.” He says it like an off-handed comment, but Dean’s mind practically blacks out at the thought of getting to see Cas more than once. Pictures Cas pushing him down on the soft leather, the space too little for two grown men, as they rock and grind and - shit. He shouldn't find the image of his and Cas’ cum streaked white on the dark seats as hot as he does.

“Anytime,” he breathes, meeting Cas gaze with wide eyes. “Literally. Any freaking time, Cas.”

The man groans, putting the heel of his hand to his cock and pressing down. “Drive, Dean.”

And drive Dean does. He drives like a madman, speeding most of the way home. Both he and Cas are unable to stop touching each other - soft touches to the other's thighs, caressing each others' faces, making out at red lights - anything they can get away with in public. This is the longest foreplay Dean has ever had and damn if it isn't also the hottest.

When they finally pull into his garage at home, Cas doesn't even let him park Baby before he's on him, lips at his throat, teeth and tongue on his skin as Dean grunts and works to stop the car and smack the button that closes the garage. Exiting the car is a mess of limbs and grunts and giddy chuckles and unfortunate elbows, and Dean somehow finds himself pressed to the wall with Cas’ lips slotted to his own, tongue sliding inside, his unbelievably hard body pressing him in and keeping him there. “Cas-Cas--” he grunts as the lips trail down to his jaw. “Bedroom - come on - gotta--” Cas growls, but he lets him slip away, and they practically chase each other inside.

Dean has no idea how they get to the bedroom, because halfway there, Cas decides that taking Dean's clothes off would be a good idea, and by the time Dean finds himself in his bedroom, he's shirtless, boots gone, jeans hanging low on his hips and threatening to fall down any second.

Cas pushes Dean against the wall and continues to nibble and suck his way down Dean's neck. Dean feels warm hands slip into the waistband of his boxers and in one fluid movement, he's standing naked in front of the man of his fantasies; hard and dripping precum, desperate to get any sort of friction on his aching cock.

"Fuck, Cas - you gotta - mmph - you gotta take off your clothes too. Feelin' a little underdressed here."

Cas looks up from where he had been ogling at Dean's cock and says, "It's only fair, Dean. You've already seen me naked, now it's my turn."

“Well - that's - shit.”

Castiel chuckles, crowding in close, fully dressed, still wearing that damn trench coat, the blue of his tie matching his eyes. He doesn't seem worried about messing up his clothes though as he traps Dean here like he did in the garage, framing Dean's head with his arms against the wall and grinding his very much clothed cock against Dean's straining, dripping, red dick. Dean throws his head back and groans, pushing back into Cas’ body and rutting with him, his cock and Cas’ grinding together even with the difference of barriers between them. His teeth sink into his lip as Cas smirks at him with a twitch of his mouth. “You're gorgeous against the wall, Dean. Desperate for me. God, I love how horny you are for me.” He licks a stripe up Dean's cheek. “Where are the lube and condoms? Turn around while I get them, I'm going to eat you out as I open you up for my cock. Then I'm going to fuck you, right here against the wall until you forget your own name.”

Dean groans and points towards his drawer where he keeps any and all sex related stuff. He takes a second to admire Cas' clothed ass before turning around and sticking his ass out for him. He can hear Cas fumbling around in the drawer, seemingly taking his sweetass time to mess with Dean. The asshole, Dean thinks, shivering with arousal as his cock gives a twitch, and he pushes his ass out a little farther.

He's so lost in his thoughts, though, that he misses Cas returning and is startled when he feels Cas' warm mouth against his cheek, teeth biting into his ass hard enough to break the skin and leave a mark that will take days to heal, reminding Dean of this moment. As if there was any chance he could have forgotten it anyway. But hell, he knows he'll be admiring that mark in the mirror every damn day anyhow. “Oh, god, Cas,” he moans softly.

Without answering, Cas spreads open his ass and without hesitation, dives right fucking in. He licks a stripe from top to bottom that leaves a cold streak behind and then presses in at his hole, feeling like he's fucking lapping at it with his tongue. Prodding it and flicking at his hole and putting his lips there and sucking, and Dean makes a dozen mewling sounds he's never even heard himself make before, pushing his forehead to the wall and bracing himself because his legs are freaking trembling. Cas’ sandpaper chin rubs his tender asscheecks as he works, and Dean knows he's going to have that beard burn he was hoping for.

An eternity and 69 seconds later, Dean feels a lubed finger join Cas' mouth, and his cock twitches hard at the feeling. A small part of Dean's brain knows that he could jerk himself off right now, God knows he will in the future, but his brain isn't working enough for him to actually move his hands from where they are apparently buried in Cas' hair behind him.

Cas slowly pushes in the finger, not stopping until it is completely buried in his ass. Dean lets out a high pitched moan as Cas' mouth continues to work wonders while his finger brushes against Dean's prostate, leaving him feeling light headed with all the blood that's going to his dick. Man, he can't remember being this turned on even during his teens.

His cock throbs as Cas works, and Dean's hands move to grab onto his own asscheecks, pulling himself apart to give Cas room and space to fuck him with his tongue and finger - fingers - he corrects, when Cas slides in a second beside the first. It goes in easy, and Cas makes a throaty sound that vibrates all the way to his dick. His tongue doesn't let up its assault even as Cas starts fucking him with his fingers, spreading them wide every other thrust and making Dean gasp and push back on them. “Cas, Cas, Cas, fuck, that feels so - unggh - yes, god, but I need - I want - I'm ready, please. Please, baby, I want your cock so bad.” Cas hums and pushes his fingers in deeper, thrusting a few more times before pulling out.

Cas stands up, and Dean hears the rustling of clothes behind him - probably Cas finally taking off his clothes too. A few seconds later he hears the condom wrapper crinkle and the soft swish of Cas wrapping himself and lubing up his condom covered cock. Dean feels Cas move a step forward and oh fuck he's still wearing his clothes and it shouldn't be so hot.

Cas wraps one of his hands around Dean's chest and without any warning, thrusts into Dean so hard that Dean feels himself being lifted onto his toes. FUCK.

Cas’ cock splits him open perfectly, on the verge of being too much, at the intersection of just right and so full, and Dean's knees tremble, his head thrown back and his ass twitching as Cas starts fucking him. He can feel every inch as it slides through his insides, feeling like it's pulling out all of him with it before fucking back in each time and making Dean gasp, his shins straining, his toes bending, his feet arching up high as Cas fucks in, fucks up, fucks Dean up on his cock. He cries out, “Cas! God!

"Turn around, Dean." Cas pants as he pulls out. Dean most certainly does not whine at the empty feeling. "I want to see those muddy green eyes blown for me, those positively sinful lips of yours. I want to kiss you."

Dean turns around as fast as his feet would allow him and leans in to kiss Cas, twining an arm around his neck to pull him in and keep him close. Without breaking the kiss, Cas lifts Dean's legs and wraps them around his waist, pinning Dean against the wall with just the strength of his chest, and pushes his cock back into Dean's hole; where, according to Dean, it belongs forever.

He moans some jumbled mix of Cas’ name and curse words and blasphemy again, locking his ankles behind Cas’ back as Cas starts fucking him again, rocking him against the wall until his back burns, Cas’ lips barely letting up their assault even when it gets messy, saliva dripping from the corners of their mouths and tears squeezed from the corners of eyes, or at least Dean’s eyes because this feels so good, Cas is - fuck, everything, no, way more than everything he imagined, and oh god how is he this fucking strong.

Groaning as Cas bounces Dean on his cock, he lifts him from the wall and turns distractedly, kissing Dean and fucking Dean and carrying Dean to his own bed. Laying him out and crawling between his legs, never letting him go. Dean's mind whites out because this is the hottest thing he's ever experienced. His cock is twitching wildly because holy fuck Cas just carried him to his bed all the while, still buried snugly in Dean's ass. How is this man even real? Dean’s sure all this is a dream because sex can never be this perfect.

But his back arches because Cas begins thrusting into him again - hard and fast and very much real - not even giving him a moment to catch his breath. Fucking him full and making him yell, his cock trapped between his own stomach and Cas’ clothes, slick and silky, pressing him into the matress.

“Dean, fuck, Dean, you're so perfect.”

"Oh fuck", Dean groans as he wrestles with Cas' trench coat. "Take it off, baby - fuck - need to feel you."

Cas smirks against Dean's skin and leans back to slowly take off his clothes. Holy fuck that strip tease, while being fucked at the same time, Dean might just die of a heart attack after this.

He peels off his coat and slides off his tie, the material making a shhhk sound as it slides free. Cas begins unbuttoning his shirt, and Dean groans as inches of Cas' skin are revealed torturously slowly.

His breaths start to come in small pants as he softly touches the chest he's seen on his laptop so many times. He moves his hands across that firm, muscled chest, and rubs his thumbs over Cas' nipples.

Cas lets out a groan and bucks his hips; apparently they really are sensitive, and Dean tweaks one of them, loving the way it makes Cas respond.

Dean.” He growls it like a warning but doesn't stop Dean as he starts fucking him again, pressing in deep and hard and circling his hips every time he's flush with Dean’s ass. Dean's fingers skirt around the pebbling brown nubs, squeezing and pressing and flicking lightly, licking his lips because he wishes he could get them in his mouth, promising himself if he ever gets to have this again, he’s going to suck on them until they're red.

Cas picks up his pace, and Dean wraps his arms around him, hanging on for the ride - fingers scrabbling for purchase on Cas' smooth back.

Dean howls at a particularly hard thrust against his prostate and lets out a sob of pleasure each time Cas repeats the motion. Fuck, if this continues, he won't last much longer.

He hikes his legs high above Cas’ ass, he opens himself that much more for Cas to fill, finding it unbearably, incredibly hot that Cas is fucking him still wearing his pants, cock pushing into Dean through the zipper of his slacks. “Fuck,” he breathes. “F-Fuck - Cas.”

Cas hums, pressing into him and once again trapping his cock between them. He's close, oh god, he's so close, but he can't get the words out. Cas seems to know anyway as he starts kissing along his jaw and nailing his prostate. But it's Cas’ eyes when he looks at him, dark and deep blue above him, watching him with lust and heat and want and tenderness all at once that makes Dean cum with a shout, pleasure shooting through his stomach and exploding through his entire body as he clenches down around Cas, his cum spurting hot on his own abs as well as Cas’.

Dean opens his eyes - that he hadn't realized he closed - just in time to see Cas' face slip into a blissful expression as he empties himself into the condom with a groan that sounds a lot like Dean.

He looks up at Cas with awe, as the man works himself through his orgasm, moaning softly and leaving open mouthed 'kisses' along Dean's neck and shoulders, rolling into Dean's jelly-limbed body a few more times before stopping with a moan, the fucked out and sated look on his face intimately familiar, but for the first time, all Dean's. Dean’s alone. “Damn, Cas,” he breathes as his Angel pulls out and drops down on the bed beside him.

Panting for a few moments, Cas makes an agreeing sound. “That was… I don't have words.”

Something crazy bursts in Dean's chest, his heart fluttering wildly. “Took the… non-words right outta my mouth,” he chuckles with a smile, edging closer to Cas and wrapping an arm around his waist. Cas’ arm immediately comes up around his back, and he looks at him with some kind of wonder in his eyes. “I certainly wasn't expecting this when I drove into your shop this evening.”

Dean huffs out a laugh. "Yeah, if someone told me yesterday that less than 24 hours later, I'll be fucking you for real, I'd have laughed in their face."

"Although in said person's defense, I was the one who fucked you, you haven't fucked me yet. Well, next time then."

Dean’s breath catches. “Next time, huh?”

“Mm,” Cas nods his agreement. “And at some point we are definitely fucking in that beautiful car of yours. And we have to use all of your toys. I have a lot of plans for you, Winchester.”

The smile on Dean's face spreads into a grin as hard as he tries to fight it. “In the meantime, how about supper? I… have food. I could cook.”

Cas’ eyes brighten with a smile of his own. “Supper sounds perfect. It will give us time before I fuck you back into this mattress.”

Dean grins widely at Cas. "It's a date, then."

“Yes. A date.”