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Salt n' Lick

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“Quetila?” Castiel repeated in a bereft tone, peering at you over the kitchen counter. “I have never heard of this before.”

“No, Cas,” you couldn’t help but laugh. “Te-qui-la. Not quetila. It’s a form of alcohol.”

“I see. And you’re going to drink it, why?”

You shrugged insouciantly. “Because it’s Friday night, Dean and Sam are driving back from Illinois, and I want to do something fun?”

He regarded you with a level-headed stare. “You’re going to drink? On your own? Are you sure that’s wise?”

You lifted your shoulders once more, flicking at an empty glass. “I’m a big girl. I can handle my drink. And being on my own.” You looked at him pointedly. “I know the boys asked you to check in on me but I’m fine, honestly.”

He appeared doubtful. “Perhaps I should stay with you.”

“I’ll be fine, Cas. Seriously.”

“All the same, if you plan on intoxicating yourself I’d prefer to be present, should you require any assistance.” You rolled your eyes derisively at his comment, but his jaw was set, much like his resolution, and he took a seat on one of the kitchen’s stools as if to make a point. “I’m staying.”

“Okay,” you said airily. “But if you’re staying…” You moved to the overhead cabinet, pulling out two tumblers and rotating around to set them on the table in front of him, grinning up at his bewildered expression. “You’re drinkin’.”

An hour (and half a bottle of whiskey) later, you had become fairly merry and Castiel was pleasantly buzzed along with you, something you were tremendously thrilled to see.

Although, that might have had something to do with the fact that tipsy was a highly arousing look on the angel.

You couldn’t help but gape at how his trench coat had slipped down, revealing the perfect cut of his broad shoulder, how his unruly hair seemed to have fluffed up even more (really perfecting that just-tumbled-out-of-bed look), and the casual way in which he leant back on his chair, elbow perpendicular to the hard surface of the kitchen counter, legs spread apart with a confidence that seemed to grow with every swig of the honey-coloured liquid in his glass.

You felt yourself begin to ache.

Castiel was beautiful.

You didn’t mean that in an offhand, casual way – you meant that he was positively radiant. When you looked at him, it was extremely apparent that there was something supernatural, something celestial about him. There was this inner light that seemed to just radiate from within him, enamouring anyone who basked in its brilliance.

He was different. He stood out. Fantastically so.

For the millionth time since you had first met him, you wondered what it would be like to feel those lips rove frantically over your own, to have those agile hands caress your fevered skin, to card your fingers through that uncontrollable hair…

While you knew that that body wasn’t his true form, you couldn’t help but appreciate just how gorgeous a man his vessel had been, only attributing to Castiel’s overall being in general. If humans were made in God’s image, and angels’ vessels were predetermined, well… fate had done one hell of a job when they had paired Castiel and Jimmy Novak together.

He was coasting a finger along the rim of his now empty glass, eyelashes lowering to observe the action. Watching him made your mouth run dry, and you raised your tumbler to wet your lips, only to find that no alcohol remained in there.


“Want a top-up?” you enquired in an effort to distract yourself, gesturing to his glass and trying hard not to stare at his slender fingers dancing across the smooth lip of it.

He tipped his head down at you in acquiescence, looking up at you through the fringe of his lashes with a look that seemed to warm the air around him by at least ten degrees. You instinctively grabbed the counter a little harder than necessary, a prickle of heat zinging up the length of your body.

Casting a quick glance towards the empty bottle beside you, you racked your brain to think of what other alcohol was around, before perking up considerably as you suddenly remembered –

“Tequila!” you intoned brightly, immediately hopping down from your stool and meandering around the kitchen to collect the essentials, Castiel silently surveying you all the while.

While it was usually a bad idea to mix drinks, you were well aware of your limits, not to mention that you were in a safe environment with an angel watching over you. A very, very attractive angel…

“_____?” Castiel shifted forwards and leant his forearms on the kitchen counter, his curiosity piqued as you laid out the salt and lime wedges in front of him. You grabbed a couple of shot glasses from the top cabinet, the tequila bottle already in your firm clutch while he cautiously poked at a slice of lime, twisting his head curiously. “What are these for?”

“For the tequila.”

Castiel’s eyebrows drew together in a slow look of confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“You drink it as a shot, Cas.”

You indicated this by unscrewing the cap and overturning the glasses in front of you both, re-sitting opposite him. You poured a generous amount of the amber liquid into both glasses, twisting around to grab the salt, but Castiel was already raising his shot up to his lips.

“Whoa, whoa – wait!” you yelled, grabbing his glass and slamming it back down on the counter, tequila sloshing over the edge of the shot at the harsh action. “You don’t drink it yet! You gotta get the salt and lime ready!”

He glanced at you, one eyebrow raising curiously. “I was under the impression that tequila was a beverage, which is why I tried to drink it.”

“Yeah, it is, but the salt and lime is part of the shot! You drink it in a certain way – here, watch.” You plucked a lime piece from the bowl with your left hand and lifted the salt with your right. “You gotta follow certain steps. You lick your hand first–”

“I beg your pardon?” His eyebrow lowered down as his brow puckered, perplexed.

“It’s for the salt,” you clarified patiently. “It makes it stick to your hand. You pour a small amount onto the area you lick, and hold the lime slice with the same hand.”

He cocked his head to the side, regarding you inquisitively. “Why?”

“Because it’s easier to go from the salt to the tequila to the lime rather than doing it on opposite hands.”

“What –”

You raised your hand to halt him. “Let me finish. It will make sense in a minute. You have your salt and lime in one hand. With your other, you hold your shot.”

“Show me.”

Contemplating all the possibilities of that gentle command and trying not to visibly shiver, you complied, setting yourself up. As you softly licked your hand between your thumb and forefinger, you remarked the way that Castiel’s eyes dilated as you did so, his lips parting ever so slightly and his throat bobbing. A small rush of air left his mouth, and his eyes were trained very vividly on your own.

Oh, you reflected bemusedly. Someone likes what they see. How interesting.

“Got it so far?” you checked, raising your seasoned hand, lime and shot simultaneously.

He nodded firmly, sitting up a little straighter and licking the corner of his mouth, your eyes following the path of his tongue.

Man, you thought fervidly, he’s gonna be the death of me.

“Okay, there’s a certain way you do this, so pay attention.” His focus was rapt, his gaze heavy. “Lick salt, drink shot, bite lime. Got it?”

“Yes, but why –”

“It accentuates the flavour of the tequila,” you said a touch impatiently, waving him off. “Got the order?”

“Salt, shot, lime.”

“Good. Watch.”

If you proceeded to show him a little slower than you should have, you were just being thorough in your demonstration, and if you emphasised the drag of your tongue over the salt, well…

If it made Castiel’s breath hitch a notch and his fingers flex a little, who were you to complain?

“Your turn,” you said huskily, gesturing a tad too elatedly to his shot glass.

He regarded the items on the counter for a moment, before squaring his shoulders and shifting into a better position to attack the task. You openly gawked as he raised his left hand and dragged his tongue along it, your mouth salivating at the wet muscle leisurely tracing tanned flesh. Your breathing was more laboured than before as he dusted his hand with salt, setting it down and curling his fingers around a lime wedge. He then picked up his shot glass, shooting a questioning glance at you.

“Go on,” you prompted, more for yourself than for him.

He was unwittingly putting one hell of a show, and he probably didn’t even realise it.

He took a breath, licked himself (oh Lord), downed the shot (giving you a rather spectacular view of his throat as he did so) and bit the lime, his face screwing up at the explosion of flavours in his mouth, the alcohol burning his throat as he swallowed. He slammed the shot glass down, panting slightly in a way that hit you right in your core, and behind the counter you discreetly crossed your legs to alleviate some of the pressure that had built in between them.

“How was that?” you asked him sweetly, heat flooding to your core.

“Odd. Different,” he answered, mouth moving in thought. He delicately ran his tongue across the top arch of his teeth, unmistakably tasting the remaining alcohol. “Interesting.”

Your stomach clenched at the sight. God, Castiel wasn’t even trying to be seductive and you were a heartbeat away from an orgasm. What the hell would he be like if he actually tried?

“Want another?” you probed, offering up the tequila bottle in an effort to distract yourself.

He nodded, drumming his fingers eagerly against the table top. “Please.”

You set to work preparing the next set of shots, and as you handed him his drink his fingers brushed the back of your hand, sending sparks shooting down your spine, settling low in the small of your back. He looked at you intently for a split second and then it was gone, replaced by you both busying yourselves with the salt.

“Ready?” you asked, grabbing a segment of lime, desperate to see more.

He nodded again, and you gave a quick countdown before you both necked your shots at the same time, the alcohol warming your insides as you placed your glasses back down.

A tiny drop of tequila had beaded at the corner of Castiel’s mouth, and you watched with growing excitement as he unconsciously swiped his tongue to catch it, sucking it back into his mouth with a smack of his lips.


“This is a good drink,” he commented, examining the wrung-out peel of the lime he had just eaten. “Do humans drink this a lot?”

“Yeah – well, it’s a unique taste; we like it. It originally came from Mexico, I think, but you can get it anywhere, really. It’s really popular at parties, but I think that that might be the body shot concept of it.”

“Body shot?” he echoed dubiously, baffled.

“Yeah, you know.” He remained silent, blinking at you patiently; okay, so maybe he didn’t know. You cleared your throat. “People play around with the, uh, with the positions of the salt and lime.” You rubbed a few flecks of stray salt into the counter, not quite meeting his gaze. “You don’t have to restrict the salt to just your hand, Cas.”

It clicked after a moment and his eyes widened a fraction in understanding. His nostrils suddenly flared, making arousal pool steadily in the centre of your body.

“It’s, uh, why a lot of young people mess around with it. It’s like a form of foreplay. They lick the salt off other parts of the body, suck the lime juice off of each other, that kinda stuff. You know, where you –”

“I would like to try that,” he stated boldly, looking at you intensely.

“What? Now?” you said, your shock raising the pitch of your tone a couple of octaves.

His voice slipped down a few decibels, throaty and raw and thickening with lust. “Yes. Now.”

You almost forgot to breathe at the implication of his words, but quickly schooled your face into a neutral expression, catching yourself at the last moment.

Well, it’s about fucking time.

The alcohol had loosened the pair of you up, and the chemistry in the air was tangible. You both knew that. You and Castiel had been dancing around each other for far too long. Perhaps it was time to take it to the next level.

And, hell, if Castiel wanted to play, you were more than happy to oblige.

“Think you can handle that?” you asked lightly, scooping a previously unseen drop of lime off of the side of your hand with your mouth.

His eyes immediately swivelled to your raised hand, observing you wordlessly for a moment, and he shifted to lean back in his seat. “Can you?” he said finally, gaze lifting to meet yours.

Jesus. “I’m sure I can. I just hope you can keep up.”

You inspected your fingernails casually, but because you were looking down, you missed the slow, tenacious grin spread across his lips. You nearly jumped out of your skin a second later when you felt warmth suddenly ghost the shell of your ear, and his heated, gravelled voice say, “I would worry more about whether you can keep up with me, _____.”

Eyes raked indolently over your body as he sat back down, resting one arm on the counter and the other on the hard ridge of his thigh. You relished the tingling sensation zipping through you, your nerves firing at every angle, and you reached for the tequila bottle.

Game on.

“Okay. Let’s play.” You refilled the shot glasses. “You wanna start?”

“Ladies first,” he prompted in a very gentleman-like manner.

However, there was nothing chivalrous in his stare as you slowly rose off of your stool and leisurely sauntered around the counter to stand in front of him. His irises darkened with arousal as you weighted against his knees with the sway of your gait, spreading his legs open with the push of your body, hands hovering over his tense thighs.

He never broke eye contact with you as you raised a hand to place it flat against his chest, soft material and hard muscle underneath your splayed fingers as you paused for a second to savour the feel of him underneath you. You flexed instinctively and his eyelids flickered at the notion. Your hand then travelled upwards, deliberately catching against his tie, dipping under his open collar to tickle the hollow of his throat before coming to a rest against his chiselled jaw. You gripped it, firm but gentle, and turned him to face the left, exposing the side of his face to you.

Leaning forwards, you brazenly mouthed the line of his jaw, enjoying the feel of his stubbled skin underneath the flat of your tongue, slickening at the scratchy noise that left the back of his throat as a result. Retreating from him a little, you reached for the salt and a lime segment behind you, turning back to him in the junction of his legs. He hadn’t moved an inch from where you had moved him, but you couldn’t fail to notice that the hand on his thigh was a gradient tighter than it was a moment ago.

“Open your mouth,” you said softly, placing the lime in rind-first when he complied with a shuddering breath. A faint stir of confusion crossed his face, but that swiftly dissipated as he awaited your next move.

Sprinkling salt along the length of where you licked him, you picked your shot up and paused for a breadth of a second, letting the anticipation set in.

Then, you tilted forward, tonguing his salted skin achingly slow, tossed your drink back and leant against his thighs to teasingly suck the lime out of his mouth with a pop, your lips briefly brushing together as a result, and you held that position a second longer than you should have before you pulled away, biting down on the lime.

A smug, satisfied smirk played on your lips as you surveyed the way he swallowed hard, eyes hazy and lidded, breath much shallower than before.

You removed the lime from your mouth and gestured at him, smirking. “Your turn.”

It took him a couple of minutes to refocus, but once he had a stoic look settled on his face, betrayed only by the feverish delight burning in his eyes.

A small smile dimpled his cheeks as his hand unexpectedly closed over your wrist, warmth seeping into your skin as he rotated it to face palm upwards. Your other hand shifted to settle on the hard plane of his shoulder as his thumb swiped against the hollow of your flesh, both soothing and electrifying at the same time. He guided it upwards, gradually moving it towards his mouth. You felt a shiver trickle down your spine as he lowered those pink lips to the inside of your wrist, eye contact deep and concentrated, never faltering. He tenderly mouthed your pulse point, making your breath involuntarily freeze. A second passed and as his lips curved to suck your skin you could feel his tongue rove around, thoroughly tasting you, and the sensation of his hot, wet mouth moving against you made the aching apex of your legs pulse, your stomach fluttering. He pulled off of you with a wet sound and reached for a slice of lime behind you, bringing it to your lips as he licked his own. You noiselessly opened your mouth like he had done for you, heart hammering against your ribcage with expectation.

He swiftly sprinkled a pinch of salt on your skin and then reached for his shot on the counter, his grasp on your hand constant and warm. Pulling back, he spared you a brief glance and seductive smirk before lowering his mouth once more and scouring your seasoned skin with hot, open-mouthed movements, playfully licking the salt off your wrist with every motion. You couldn’t stop the full-body quiver wrack through you, your sex wet and swollen as he took his time finding every grain of salt with that ridiculously talented tongue, eventually drawing back and downing his shot. You expected him to parrot your demonstration with the lime; however, nothing could have prepared you for his grip around your wrist to suddenly increase and for him to wrench you into himself, nearly overbalancing you. You squawked in surprise against the lime, and his hand snaked up to fist the back of your hair to steady you as his mouth swiftly locked with your own, drawing a frazzled moan out of your lips.

He pulled the lime out of your lips with a groaning suck, and it disappeared into the cavern of his mouth, but he did not break away. Instead, your knees nearly gave way at the feel of his teeth teasingly tug at your bottom lip, biting gently as he kissed you, languid and slow, loving the fit of your mouth against his own.

You were just about to deepen the kiss when he retracted back, dropping the bitten lime rind from his mouth and studying your dishevelled hair (thanks to his own overzealous fingers), unfocused look and soft, breathy moans. A lecherous smile crossed his lips at the sight, and he cocked his head to the side.

“Care to continue?” he grinned arrogantly.

Regaining a little composure, you answered that by briskly removing yourself from between his legs and snapping them shut, but before he could question what the hell you were doing you hurriedly straddled him, throwing your legs over either side of his own and effectively sitting on him, now completely chest to chest.

From this vantage point you were raised ever so slightly above him, enough so that he had to tip his head back to fully look you in the eyes. You saw the surprise of your action across his face, and as his hands subconsciously coasted upwards to rest on your hips, you watched the deliberate bob of his throat as he swallowed nervously, juxtaposed with the raw want lighting those extraordinarily blue eyes.

How he looked so naïve and angelic, yet so sexy and debauched at the same time was an absolute mystery to you, but boy, did you fucking love it.

God, you just wanted to ruin him.

You held his gaze as your hands drifted up to push his trench coat and blazer off of his shoulders, where they fell and caught in the crook of his elbows thanks to the position of his hands.

Your smirk widened as you deftly loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt a little. You tugged at the stiff shirt collar to expose the end of his throat, revealing the lovely, defined line of his collarbones.

Holding the material of his shirt away from his skin, you looked at him for a long moment before lowering your mouth and audaciously running your tongue across the ridge of his collarbone, little licks coupled with harsh nips that had the clasp on your hips become bruisingly tight. A burst of heat rushed between your legs as a lengthy, frustrated groan left his mouth, and he shifted underneath you.

After what felt like forever, you finally took your mouth off of him, not missing the small noise of disappointment as you did so, savouring the satisfaction that you were affecting him as much as he was you. You found the salt and swiftly scattered a pinch on the afflicted area, hearing his breath hitch in anticipation ever so slightly.

You reached behind you for a wedge of lime, but instead of placing it into his mouth like before, you repeatedly ran your finger across the end of it, the juice building on your tip. You used the moisture to touch the hollow of his throat, a small bead of lime juice building there. He exhaled with a tremble, breath catching as his chest rose to meet against your feather-light touch.

Carelessly throwing the lime to the side, you reached for the tequila bottle behind you, foregoing the shot glass completely.

He went to say something but you abruptly cut him off with the roll of your tongue against his skin, sucking the salt clean off with small, wet, suctioned kisses. His head fell back in pleasure, a strangled sound escaping his mouth, but as you reached the end of his collarbone you weaved your fingers through his tousled hair and jerked his head back, earning yourself a grunt of shock from the trembling angel underneath you. His surprise rapidly transformed into an aching moan at the sharp display of your dominance, but you left him no room to dwell on it as you took a quick swig of tequila from the bottle and slammed it back down on the counter, never relinquishing your grip on his hair.

Swallowing, you surged downward and sealed your lips onto his. The immediate contact made him sigh quietly against your mouth, and he tipped his chin up towards you, keen and pliant. He felt your tongue rim the curve of his bottom lip and he eagerly opened his mouth against yours, exploring the cavern of your mouth enthusiastically. He shuddered at the feel of your cool tongue (thanks to the tequila) against the seam of his hot mouth, the kiss growing more thorough.

The hold he had on your hips was unrelenting, and as you both fell into a deep, sensual kiss he began to move you against him to dissipate some of the increasing friction. The pair of you groaned into each other’s mouths at the feeling of the hard bulge between his legs, and the pulsing heat between yours. He gave a particularly savage thrust up against you, and a ragged moan left you at the way his eyes shuttered, excited and desperate for more.

“Jesus, Cas,” you whispered fiercely against his moving mouth.

“_____,” he murmured your name lowly, fervently.

You suddenly remembered the last part of your drink, having lost yourself in the sensuality of his mouth, and broke away (to your deep regret and his severe dismay) to dip down and suck the drying flesh of his throat. The lime had almost evaporated, but when you pressed your mouth to it a small, tangy burst of citrus hit your tongue. He shivered as you pulled away, the wetness of you cooling in the air.

“My turn,” he rasped, eyes dark with desire.

His hands left your hips, and in so doing his coat and blazer fell from their position on his arms to the floor with barely a flutter, leaving him in just his shirt and tie, a look you found to be extremely arousing. His hands reached up to your neck, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and tucking the stray strands behind your ear; a very intimate moment that left your heart beating erratically in your chest.

Almost immediately, lips latched themselves onto the sensitive spot just behind your earlobe. You faintly noted that it was probably a good idea that you were sitting down (even if it was on top of Castiel; it still counted), because if you had felt that while standing your knees would have undoubtedly given out.

Castiel’s mouth was moving, tongue lapping in broad, confident strokes down the slope of your neck from behind your ear, and small, shameless noises of pleasure left your mouth as he reached the junction of your neck and remained there, peppering hot, feathery kisses along your flesh, nibbling with the strong arch of his teeth. Your back bowed against him, trying to draw him as close to your form as physically possible. He chuckled, the action vibrating against your skin, before he gave a particularly resilient suck on your neck, making you mewl.

He moved off of you after a moment, an egotistical, proud look on his face as he studied the darkening mark now blooming on your skin, fingers skirting lightly against it.

“Did you leave a mark?” you asked a little breathlessly, hands rising to touch the tender flesh.

“I believe it is customary to mark those that are considered yours,” he answered serenely, eyes bright and fevered.

“Yours?” you repeated with a laugh.

“Mine,” he echoed, gently removing your hands from yourself as he leant forward to casually lick the delicate skin of your throat, intertwined with sharp nips of his teeth. Air whistled raggedly through your lips as you sucked in a harsh breath at the movement. “As I am yours.” Your hands, which had settled on the cut of his shoulders, subconsciously clenched at this, the thin material of his shirt bunching in your hands as you did so. “If…” He paused, passionate heat fading quickly into anxious vulnerability. Nerves were faintly colouring the apples of his cheeks, and you realised with a wild thump of your heart that he was baring his true feelings about you, to you. “If you want me. If you’ll have me.” The magnitude of what he said seeped deep into your bones, and it was all you could do to refrain from bursting with joy.

“Always,” you whispered with a pleasured noise, those words pulsing throughout your entire form.

You leant down to kiss him softly, tenderly, and his entire body relaxed as he kissed you back with fervour, groaning, smiling against your mouth at your acceptance and reciprocation.

Soon, the kiss began to speed up, pick up pace, transform into something more lustful and heated, that passion from earlier bleeding back in and filling the air with breathy moans and smacking lips once more.

Remembering the tequila, he broke away from you and proceeded to cover the wet spot on your neck with salt, picking up the tequila bottle and taking a swill of it.

He lowered the bottle and reached up towards you, cradling your face in his large, slender hands, lips locking together almost immediately, just like before.

However, this kiss was different.

It was chaste; fleeting, teasing, leaving you delirious for a deeper connection. His tongue was firmly tucked behind his teeth, and there was a strange resistance to allowing you access to the heart of his mouth, even as your tongue skimmed the line of his bottom lip in an unspoken request to delve further. You were about to question it when you felt his hands grip your face a little harder than before and his lips began to relax, slowly opening.

You gasped in surprise as the heat of his sensuous mouth gave way to the cool liquid of tequila that he was now gently pushing into your mouth.

The combination of smooth tequila and the heat of Castiel’s mouth firmly on your own made your knees shake and a loud, raw sound to reverberate from you. A shock of excitement trickled down your spine as you surged forward in an effort to kiss him harder, needing more.

The liquid passed between your mouths as you kissed each other ardently, gradually swallowing the tequila between the pair of you. He savoured the taste of the alcohol on you, and pulled the tip of your tongue into his mouth so as to suckle gently on it, making a small whine vibrate from the back of your throat.

“Cup your breasts for me,” he ordered softly against the line of your mouth.

You huffed out a harsh breath, his words causing a fresh wave of wetness to dampen your already soaked underwear. You began to do what he commanded you to, hands slipping off of his shoulders to firmly cup yourself, accentuating your chest. Your heat went into overdrive at the sight of his gaze turning sultry and voracious, darkening the blue within it.

You inhaled sharply as you felt a cool liquid suddenly hit your skin, tricking down the crest of your cleavage, sticky streaks running between your breasts. Whilst you had been following his directions, he had taken a piece of lime and had squeezed it upon you with a wicked grin on his face.

His hands glided upwards to wind his fingers through your hair, and he firmly pulled your head back to expose your throat in a similar way to what you did to him earlier. Your breath turned uneven as you felt the heat of his mouth ghost the valley of your breasts and eager licks peppered your flesh, goose bumps rising as his mouth shaped over your lime-soaked skin and sucked the citrus away, small red marks blooming on your neck from his enthusiastic mouth as he covered you from throat to cleavage.

“Oh god, Cas,” you couldn’t help but pant, your voice cracking with raw need. “You’re turning me on so much right now.”

You cried out loudly as a hot hand unexpectedly cupped your groin, fingers swiping across the crevice of your legs in a sure, teasing manner.

“I can assure you,” he rasped, mouth wetly pulling off of your skin to look up at you with an impassioned stare, “the feeling is entirely mutual.”

You returned the favour, your sounds intertwining simultaneously as you reached down to palm the wicked hard on underneath you, earning you a ragged noise of pleasure as hips bucked against you fleetingly, in dire need of friction.

You could have taken him right there and then.

To be fair, every cell in your body was practically screaming at you to do so, and the thought of him coming undone underneath you was such a hot mental image that you had to mentally calm yourself down to dissuade an orgasm from arriving way too early.

After all, you had a lot more teasing in mind.

Your lips brushed together in an affectionate embrace at the same time as your hands tiptoed down the length of his front. You smirked as he tipped upward to get at your mouth more, and your fingers ceased their descent to grip at the white cotton fabric underneath his throat before you forcibly ripped his shirt open, revealing a gorgeous tanned chest as buttons flew everywhere, cascading all over the floor.

He looked down incredulously at his ruined shirt, blinking rapidly before looking back up at you questioningly, shock heightening the light of his eyes as you stared down at him, a saccharine smile playing on your lips.

Hopping down from your perch on his lap, you swivelled him in his stool so that his back was against the edge of the counter. With a steady hand, you guided him backwards so that his body was almost horizontal, and stood between his legs, keeping close proximity but bending your knees a bit. This allowed you to be at the perfect level to lean down and begin to lick playfully at his chest.

You felt rather than heard the sharp suck of air from Castiel, and continued your ministrations, untucking his open shirt to gain you as much access to that fantastic front as possible. His breathing was raw, ragged, heavy, and when your mouth descended to wrap around an erect nipple he choked out your name, jerking against you. You moved over to the other one, skimming it and flicking it with your tongue.

“Ahhhh, _____,” he groaned, tone steeped in lust, threading his fingers through the loose strands of your hair. “That feels...”

“Heavenly?” you answered humorously, biting your lip to stifle a laugh.

“Mmmm.” The sound settled low in his throat, hot and wanting.

Grains of salt and drops of lime covered each nipple as you readied him, his sounds hitting you hard in between the legs with every breath and grunt, gaining volume as you took your time.

This time you used a shot glass, pouring the liquid in and balancing it precariously in the middle of his strong chest, between each nipple.

You didn’t give him time to contemplate your train of thought before your mouth was upon him, swirling around his salted nipple, moving over to pick the shot up by your teeth and tossing it back. You let the glass fall from your lips and deftly caught it, placing it on the counter as you found the other nipple, the citrusy burst of lime hitting the flat of your tongue as you licked his sticky skin.

He grunted and moaned throughout, low, throaty sounds coloured by that baritone voice, jerking and shifting against you as the hand still in your hair eventually relinquished its clasp. As it passed your face, you quickly turned your head to the side, catching his forefinger with a gentle nip of your teeth and drawing it into your mouth with a particularly hard suck.

_____,” he burst out fervidly, watching you through hooded eyes as you swallowed his forefinger all the way down, the hot, slippery warmth of your mouth enveloping him.

You gazed at him intently as you drew back off, giving him a playful bite on the tip of his forefinger, but instead of releasing it, you wrapped your mouth around his middle finger too. You swallowed down once more, teasingly slow, your tongue running between the crease of his fingers and flicking at the web between them before pulling back off with a deliberately loud pop, a seductive smile curving your lips.

With a loud grunt that seemed to burst from his chest, he suddenly rolled onto his feet and grabbed you, flipping you around so now it was you against the counter instead of him. With an impatient flick of his grace he cleared the counter, the neon glow shifting everything neatly to the side. Without allowing you time to contemplate what was happening, his hands slid to the underside of your thighs and hoisted you onto the counter with an ease and urgency that had your sex flooding with liquid heat, juxtaposed with the icy feel of the counter now underneath you. He gently directed you to lie down before wrenching you towards him, manoeuvring your legs to wrap around the powerful lines of his hips.

This turn of events found you flat on your back on the cold, smooth surface of the counter, legs coiled securely around Castiel, who was looming over you, shirt wide open and framing that glorious tanned front for you and just looking unbelievably sexy, making your thighs tighten around him subconsciously.

He stared down at you with a predatory smile as he flattened a hand against your throat, heat crawling into your skin as he tickled down the silk of your flesh. His fingers slow danced through the middle of your breasts, curving down your stomach and fluttering against the dip of your navel, your stomach smouldering with low heat and your exhales melting into sighs of pleasure. As he did so, his grace simmered around his fingers, and you realised with a burst of excitement that his grace was parting the material of your shirt and bra, piercing through it like a hot knife glides through butter, leaving it hanging off of your form. You were displayed to him slowly, inch by inch, and he revelled in it as the material fell away to reveal heated, trembling skin aching to be explored.

“Beautiful,” he commented in a grated whisper, eyes greedily drinking in every inch of your exposed flesh.

His hands slid under the loose material of your ruined clothing now, exploring you once again but this time familiarising himself with the feel of your skin and body underneath him, marvelling at the contours of you and the way you reacted to his motions. His eyelashes fluttered and his breath grew uneven as he discovered you unhurriedly, fingers finding every crevice, every bend, every inch of tantalising skin. He softly cupped a breast under your shirt and bra, thumb gently grazing a rapidly hardening nipple, causing you to moan loudly and pitch yourself against him.

He bit his lip at the sound, eyes smouldering with arousal, other hand settling low on your hips and following the curve of your waist upwards, peeling the material of your shirt away from you inch by inch so that you were almost topless, were it not for the material now bunched around your arms and shoulders.

He retracted from you for a fraction of a second to remove his shirt completely, leaving him completely bare from the waist up. Your eyes raked down the strong line of his arms, the curved muscle of his biceps, the crest of his shoulders, the solidity of his chest, the ridges of his stomach, the cut of his hipbones, and you felt your body quake.

Ugh, Cas,” you groaned, nearly choking with delirious need. “That is so not fair.”

“What isn’t?” he asked casually, moving back into the cove of your legs with a bewildered expression, hands tiptoeing along the length of your thighs.

You gesticulated wildly at him. “That. You’re beautiful as fuck.”

He huffed a low laugh, palming the bow of your hips. “Your phrases are strange.”

“Well, it’s the truth,” you inhaled sharply as he gently squeezed you. “Not only are you amazing, but your vessel is super fucking hot.”

His shoulders shook with mirth, and his eyes crinkled as his chuckle resonated against your body. “I’m glad my vessel pleases you, _____.” His eyes roved over your body, his lips curving. “I must confess, however, that it is I who is most fortunate. Your beauty puts even Michelangelo’s works to shame. Surely you are the masterpiece of my Father’s creations.”

Ugh. Attractive and smooth as fuck. No one stood a chance against that combination. He should have been goddamn illegal.

“Fuck, Cas.” You whined his name as you bit your lip, his words making you glow.

“All in due time,” he murmured intensely, the natural gravel in his tone washing over you and making you shiver as he fingered the waistband of your jeans lightly. “For now…”

He left his sentence unfinished as his hands shaped over your breasts, rolling them together as he dipped down to lap at them; sensuous, suctioned, kisses that left your skin wet and heavily stimulated, much like the aching sex between your legs. You bucked your hips against him as he moved to lick the underside of your chest, an area very much overlooked during acts of intimacy. You writhed and moaned as he teased you, both in mouth and in touch, undulating your erect nipples underneath his fingertips and grazing his teeth against your trembling flesh.

He stopped, reaching over for the salt and scattering it across the underside of your breasts, eyes glinting wickedly. He then picked up a segment of lime and locked eyes with you for a brief second as he moved it to your torso, making your eyebrows furrow in bewilderment. Before you could query it, his fingers suddenly tightened, squeezing the wedge just above your navel. The juice trickled down the curve of your stomach and pooled in the dip of your belly button, making you jolt in response to the tickly movement. His smile was dark and predatory as he discarded the lime and grabbed the bottle of tequila, cobalt eyes locking with yours excitedly, and he allowed his eyes to rake down the length of your body sprawled out underneath him, before he lowered himself towards you once more with a bite to those eager, wet lips.

You couldn’t help but mewl his name repeatedly as he set to work removing the salt from your skin, soft sucks from that gifted mouth mixed with heated strokes of his questing tongue, making you a squirming mess underneath him within seconds. Your hands were gripping the edge of the counter in a death grip, and you were worrying your lip between your teeth so hard you were in danger of drawing blood.

He pulled back to draw some of the tequila into his mouth, the sight of his head tipped back, throat elongated and taut almost too much for you to bear.

He placed the bottle down and dropped his face down to your flesh, lips pursed.

Wandering hands found your breasts again, massaging them softly. Your head tipped back in pleasure as his mouth found the valley of your chest, planting a loving kiss between your breasts. You shuddered against him as his lips suddenly relaxed against your skin, causing the alcohol that he had been holding in his mouth to flow down the centre of your torso towards your belly button.

Your hands flew up to clutch at his hair, breath catching harshly in the base of your throat as he chased the running liquid with his mouth in a torturously slow fashion. His hands slithered down to flirt with the sides of your ribcage as he lapped up every single drop of tequila off of you. He laved at each bead of alcohol like it was an art form, like he was studying every inch of you through taste alone. He didn’t stop suckling your skin until he reached your navel, still brimming with lime juice.

God, it was so difficult not to dwell on the fact that you were currently sprawled across the bunker’s kitchen counter with a highly aroused, seriously sexy, semi-naked angel of the Lord whose idea of a game was to essentially use you as a human entrée.

A low rumble against your flesh told you that he was growling, which was just all kinds of sexy, and his hands skirted to ghost your waist, thumbing the bone of your hips before his mouth finally settled upon your belly button, mouth ringing hotly against the circle of it.

You swore your heart stopped beating as, with his mouth still looped around the rim of your navel, he exhaled in a long, firm motion; hot, wet heat flooding the area his mouth domed over. You cried out loudly then, legs swiftly tangling around the broad plane of his back and locking at the ankles. You trembled as his teeth closed around your belly button, tugging teasingly on the flesh that had you nearly ripping his hair out in pleasure, eyes practically rolling into the back of your head. You could feel him grin against your skin as his tongue finally dipped into the pool of lime, the citrus flavour bursting into his mouth as he began to progressively draw the liquid out of your navel with a continuous suck, combined with swirls of his unbelievably gifted tongue. Tiny noises of satisfaction reverberated against your stomach as he tasted your skin and explored your body with his mouth in a way that was far too immoral for a supposedly virtuous angel of the Lord.

He pulled off of you eventually, making you nearly sob in disappointment.

His hands found yours, clasping your wrists as he straightened back up, dragging you upright with him. The change in position caused your legs to drop from around his muscled back to dangle by his sides, and you ended up sitting on the edge of the counter, chest to chest against him. His hands roamed down to the curve of your ass, and you squeaked in surprise as he pulled you into himself, his body heat emanating into you, sinking into your own skin.

His lips descended on yours without preamble, sucking your top lip into his soft, wet mouth.

“_____,” he grumbled against your lips, kneading your ass with his deft fingers.

“Cas,” you whispered breathlessly, hands knotting around the back of his neck and fingering the soft tufts of hair there, making him shiver.

The passion of your fun simmered down for a moment as you appreciated each other’s mouths, kissing each other slow, mapping each other out with lips and teeth and tongue, enthusiastic hands roaming over tense muscles and bare skin.

It didn’t last very long, as pressure suddenly increased in the junction between your thighs, and you moaned louder than you meant to at the hand now pressed against your sex, beginning to rub ever so slightly against the fabric of your jeans.

Castiel smirked salaciously against your mouth as you canted your hips against the questing hand now scuttling upwards to disappear into the waistline of your jeans, rimming the soft fabric of your underwear before working underneath them too. Your nails dug into his scalp as dexterous fingers snaked down to part your soaked folds and tease your wetness, and at the first touch of you, his pupils dilated and his lips paused against yours as he skilfully opened you up underneath fleeting touches, touches that were both at the same time too much and not enough.

You fisted his hair forcefully at the feeling, thrusting against his hand and moaning his name like a breathless prayer.

“How I want to taste you,” he stated gruffly against your neck, fingertips feathering against your clit, barely providing any sort of relief.

“Then what the hell are you waiting for?” you practically screamed at him as you rocked against him, grinding your hips into his hand and attempting to alleviate some of that built-up tension.

“So impatient, _____.” His long-jointed digits ghosted your drenched lips, shallowly dipping into your opening but quickly pulling back out again before you could revel in any form of satisfaction, denying you what you so desperately needed. He playfully licked into your mouth, withdrawing his hand out of your underwear to run along your tense thigh, chuckling at your whimpers. “It’s your turn.”

There was no way that Castiel was from Heaven.

There was just no fucking way.

He played way too dirty to be an angel.

Which was ridiculously fucking hot in itself.

With an inhumane noise you virtually leapt off of the kitchen counter and pirouetted on the balls of your feet to spin him around, all but slamming him against the hard surface and making him grunt, shocked and turned on at your burst of control. You flicked your arms behind you to rid yourself of the remains of your shirt and bra, which floated to the ground and left you completely topless.

You tiptoed up to meet his swollen mouth, hands gliding up his chest, the muscles tensing underneath your touch. Your lips met in an achingly passionate kiss, different from a moment ago, more lustful, and you scoured his keen mouth with your own.

His initial surprise promptly melted away into something more urgent, and he palmed your back as your hands slid down to grasp the buckle of his belt. He huffed against your lips as you tugged on the buckle gently, in doing so moving his hips closer into your own. You flipped the snap open, the chink of metal echoing through the air followed by the sharp whistle of leather as you pushed it through the loops, and the combination of sounds and the anticipation of what was to come made you both groan into each other’s mouths.  His fingers dipped under the back of your jeans to glide across the curve of your backside, causing you to squeak at the sudden movement, while your own hands unbuttoned his pants and crawled over the ridge of his jeans to under his boxers.

You felt your heart stop as heat flooded your hands, and fingers brushed down defined muscle, impatient to get lower, until you finally found the hard, pulsing flesh confined in the burrow of his underwear, mouth dropping open at the feel of him.

Oh, holy fuck.

Like instinct, you curled your fingers around the girth of him, just revelling in the feeling of fabric and hair and cock. His entire body seized up at the pressure of your hand, and his clutch on your backside grew almost painfully tight, but you barely registered it as you remained still, currently content with savouring the heavy weight of him in your hand because he felt incredible.

After a moment you gave an experimental swipe against his slit, and the motion caused a small amount of precum to bead out of it, leaking against your thumb as you smeared it across the head of him, wetting the crown of his cock. His head fell back in bliss, a loud, needy moan escaping from his chest and through his gasping mouth at the contact. He pushed into your fist, one firm, strong movement that moved your hand against the size of him.

His head dropped down to rest in the crook of your neck as you began to loosely run your hand up and down the length of his throbbing cock, breath washing over the juncture of your neck as you learned the dips and curves of him with curious, excited fingers.

You bit your lip as his breathing began to quicken and his grasp on your backside transformed into a frantic rubbing motion, like what you were doing to him was shutting down every rational thought in his mind. Before he could completely lose himself in the moment you removed your hand before building any sort of rhythm, causing a frustrated, desperate sound to escape him, rumbling deep in his chest.

You covered his mouth with yours to stifle his noises and he responded almost immediately; all the while your hands were working on unfastening the button of his pants and drawing the zipper of it down in a tantalisingly slow fashion, making him groan solidly against your lips. You kissed him with a lazy passion as you gently pushed his pants and boxers down to halfway down his legs, freeing him entirely from the confines of the material.

You broke away for a moment, the desire to see him too great. You lowered your eyes to look down, heart hammering at the anticipation of seeing him.

Doing so revealed the taut line of his hard, tanned thighs, the smooth bow of his hipbones, the line of hair under his navel leading to the dash of dark curls between his legs, and finally the leaking length of his cock, erect and swollen, precum pearling at the tip, revealing his evident arousal.

Sweet Jesus.

You took in the ridiculously gorgeous sight of him, a small sigh escaping your lips as you just looked at him, wondering how the hell he looked just so goddamn good.

This was one of God’s children in front of you, an angel, and one a heartbeat away from complete debauchery, all solid and bare-skinned and burning for you, staring at you like you were the only thing that could quench his uncontrollable thirst.

Seriously, you were about a second away from riding him into next Sunday, and quite frankly, you’d be damn surprised if there was any dry part of you left right now, what with the way he was looking at you through the fringe of those thick eyelashes.

He fingered your own jeans silently, almost pleadingly.

Instead of undoing them like he so clearly desired, you decided to change the stakes, the decision flickering across your mind in a fraction of a second. You slowly descended to your knees, never breaking eye contact with him as you grazed your hands down his thighs, feeling the muscles twitch underneath your touch. He followed your gaze down, breath shortening out and eyes widening as the gravity of what was about to happen hit him in that second.

“_____,” he moaned with realisation, your breath misting over the tip of his cock.

His hips pitched faintly, as if begging you to put him out of his torturous misery, but instead you palmed the bone of each hip so as to hold him still, earning you a weak groan of distress.

That noise soon dissipated, rolling into a sharp inhale of breath as you traced, with the tip of your tongue, the line of hair from his stomach down to the ‘v’ of his thighs. The motion made him clench against you and his fingers found purchase in your hair, tangling in your tresses and holding on tight in an effort to ground himself.

His voice hitched and cracked across the repetition of your name, over and over as your mouth moved to ghost the junction between his thighs and crotch, always an inch away from where he needed it most. You moved down to lap at the tense area of his inner thighs, marvelling at the muscle jumping underneath your tongue and the heat emanating from the apex of his legs. He was moaning freely now, rolling his hips closer to you, losing himself in the moment. You gave him a playful bite on his soft skin and he lurched sharply, a loud, sinful noise dropping from his lips.

You pulled away then, reaching for the salt on the counter above you and using it to cover where you had wet his legs with your mouth. You blindly fumbled for a lime wedge, but an impatient hand appeared in front of your face with one already in it, and you looked up at Castiel with a grateful smile as you plucked it out of his hands. He was teething his lip as his hand fell back to his side, and his head tipped back once more as you squeezed a line of lime juice along his cock, making it twitch at the sensation on his hot skin.

Tossing the rind aside, you reached up for the tequila bottle and set it down on the floor beside you.

You glanced up at him through your lashes, waiting patiently on your knees, and when he caught your eye and realised that you had paused, he couldn’t stop the long, needy sound fall from his mouth.

“_____,” he intoned with a grating pitch, fingers flexing, desperation in his eyes.

With a decadent smile, you inclined forward, completely bypassing his straining hard on and earning yourself a strangled noise in response. Your mouth fell upon the salted muscle of his thighs like a woman starved, sucking up every last grain that was stuck to his skin, nipping and kissing every single inch of flesh put towards you.

He writhed and bucked against you, hand firmly stuck in your hair, words that were far too depraved for an angel of the Lord to utter leaving his mouth as you worked his skin underneath your lips and tongue and teeth. You retracted for a split second to take a large gulp of alcohol before you ascended to the tuft of hair on his stomach, cold tongue combined splendidly with the hot surface of his torso and making air whistle through his teeth at the feeling.

You dipped your tongue into his belly button in a mirror of what he had done to you earlier, flicking it down along the line of his stomach in a licentious way that had him breathing so hard you thought he was going to pass out.

You didn’t allow him a respite, instead moving towards the beading head of his erection and wrapping your lips around the crown of it, swallowing him down in one relaxed, solid movement.

“_____!” Your name broke halfway through Castiel’s moan, his eyes sliding shut and knees weakening instantaneously at the glorious feel of your hot, wet mouth enveloping him.

You tilted forward as a support to his trembling body, and a wave of liquid heat hit you in the junction of your legs at the feel of his heavy, throbbing cock in your mouth, solid and weighty on your tongue. You gave him a brief second to adjust before you began to bob up and down, slow at first, but gradually picking up speed as the seconds ticked over.

Grunts and groans fell out of his mouth as he tried to thrust against you, but you held him firmly still against the counter, a desperate whine of frustration the response to that. He cried out your name once more as you pressed the flat of your tongue against the underside of his rigid cock, adding to the overwhelming sensations you were administering upon him.

As his pleasured sounds washed over you, you clamped your thighs together at a new burst of precum leaking from his tip, tasting the very essence of him, heady and unique on your tongue.

You added a hand to your mouth, massaging the base of his cock as your lips and tongue moved to swirl around the tip, and the extra ministrations made him all but jump, before he tried to push your head further down, a hum escaping his throat.

As you began to quicken your pace, alternating your technique to suckle gently, you heard something you never imagined you would have ever heard in your lifetime: you heard Castiel swear out loud.

“Ohhh, fuck… fuck, ahhh, fuck, _____,” he huffed savagely, hips snapping erratically, eyes squeezed shut, mouth hanging open.

Hearing Castiel resort to such profanity was so arousing for you that you couldn’t fight it any longer: you dropped your hand from his cock with a grumbling moan and pushed it into the weave of your jeans to touch yourself, unable to bear the torture any more, urgently needing some release before you went mad.

No,” a deep voice rasped above you, “_____, don’t. Let me – ahhh – let me touch you…”

You suddenly found your mouth disappointedly empty as he promptly pulled out of it, his cock heavy and throbbing in front of your face, and you felt the new, odd sensation of his grace tickle your legs before you were completely naked, alongside a now equally bare Castiel, who had flicked all remainder of material away with an impatient twirl of his fingers.

Without dwelling on something as trivial as clothing, he hauled you to your feet, hands finding your hips as he deftly lifted you onto the counter with such ease that he may as well have just picked up a book off of a shelf. He guided you flat onto your back, the cold seeping into your skin, but that was only half the reason that you begin to shiver, as Castiel spread your legs open with an almost feral need, leaving you vulnerable to his carnal, hungry stare.

Upon reflex, you tried to shut your legs closed, but his hands kept you gently yet firmly spread, tongue lapping at his lips in a subconscious motion.

“Do not hide yourself from me, _____,” he rasped lowly with a soft squeeze, eyes raking avidly across the length of your quivering form. “Let me see you. Let me gaze upon the body that I’m about to claim.”

Ugh, fucking hell.

He should not be allowed to talk to you like that. It was fucking dangerous. Just those words alone sent a fresh pulse of arousal to the junction between your thighs, slickening you even more than before, if that was even possible.

His breath was coming out raggedly, and you bit your lip under the intensity of his stare. “Let me love your body, the way it was meant to be worshipped,” he continued determinedly.

Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell were you supposed to say to that?

Yes,” you breathed, unable to verbalise anything more than that, nodding frantically and staring up at him pleadingly, because if you didn’t have him right this fucking second, you were going to explode into a delirious fit.

His pupils dilated at your plea, and he dragged you closer to him. “Good.”

With a small snap of his grace, blue light dragged his stool towards him, and he seated himself in between your legs and settled down, positioning himself accordingly.

For some reason, the thought of him getting comfortable made your breathing quicken, because that meant that this wasn’t a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kinda deal.

Castiel was going to take his time.

And he was going to enjoy you.

Shit, that was ridiculously hot.

He did nothing for a moment, his hands merely mimicking across the taut plane of your thighs, sweeping inwards to thumb at the crevice between your sex and your legs, your hips lifting with a shudder at the notion.

He flashed you a truly wicked, degenerate smile before he gradually settled his mouth on where his hands were situated, scouring hot, open-mouthed kisses along the crease of your thighs, mesmerised by you and your body, and that was all manner of fucking erotic because Castiel was so enamoured with you that he literally couldn’t stop touching you, and if that didn’t make your heart burst out of your chest then you didn’t know what ever would.

Your hips pitched upwards at the heat coasting along your skin, and your breath stuttered as his tongue drew slow, zealous licks at the junction between your legs and your sex, clearly loving the simple notion of your skin against his mouth.

You mewled his name repeatedly, delirious with need.

The flat of his tongue pressed up towards the jut of your hip, nipping and tugging at your skin as the pads of his fingers swept across the line of your dripping slit, a loud noise dropping from your mouth at the motion.

It was barely enough, though; his hand was already retreating, and a dry sob of frustration caught in your throat as his touch left you. It instantly disappeared as you saw that he was inspecting the shine of you on his fingers, and he glanced up to regard you with a smouldering stare. “You’re wet.”

You nodded mutely, swallowing hard.

“Because of me.”

Another nod. His eyes darkened at that confirmation.

He took his fingers into his mouth, lips curving around the tips, and you almost blacked out as you watched him deliberately suck on them, moaning at the taste of you.

“Cas,” you whispered, eyes wide.

“You taste beautiful,” he purred in that rough voice of his, eyes trained on you as he opened his mouth, so you could watch his tongue swirl around his wet fingers.

Shit,” you burst out, your sex clenching hard at the sight of Castiel tasting you and enjoying it.

Eventually he pulled them out of his mouth with a slick pop, and dropped his head down to between your legs, hands curling over the outside of your thighs, all thoughts of the game seemingly forgotten from his mind.

“N-No salt? Lime j-juice?” you stuttered breathlessly as the heat of his mouth fanned over your dripping lips.

“There is no need to accentuate your flavour,” he murmured, pausing for a second to answer you. “It’s decadent enough on its own.” He gave a small flick of his tongue against the bud of your clit, making you gasp and tense up. “And quite frankly,” he continued, a deep, lustful edge to his voice, “I don’t care for this game any longer. I would much rather devote my time putting my mouth to better use.”

No more was said as he settled that mouth upon your sex, tongue sweeping through your slit and parting your wet lips, a truly depraved moan rumbling against you as your taste filled his mouth. His hands slid down to push your thighs up, opening you more to him, and he gently sucked on your clit, tongue moving down to shallowly dip into your opening for a moment, before moving back up to whisper against your bud, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, increasing the pressure and surging forward using in small, circular motions of his tongue.

You were too worked up.

He had teased you so relentlessly with the game; every nerve in your body was on such tight alert that he had barely started a rhythm before you came. Hard.

Your eyes snapped open in shock as your climax punched through you, your body shaking with the power of it as it worked through you, but your eyes quickly slid shut once more against the intensity of it.

He was as surprised as you were, but kept his mouth moving, accentuating the orgasm pulsing through your body as you writhed and moaned, his name falling from your lips over and over in a state of utter bliss and passion.

Your chest was heaving when you finally descended from your explosive high, and you eventually tuned back in to soft, soft kisses peppering the inside of your thigh.

You looked up to see Castiel watching you, blue intensely trained on you, and you groaned at the sight of him bent over your legs, lips and chin shining with your slick, fingers tightly wrapped around your hips.

“Cas,” you breathed, your chin tipping up as he rose to stand, hands running up and down your bare thighs. Your eyes fell to his cock, hard and heavy between his legs, and you involuntarily moaned. “Cas.”

“_____,” he groaned softly, the sound working out the back of his throat, and despite your sensitiveness, you could feel low stirrings in the pit of your stomach as he moved down to palm himself, loosely fisting his leaking cock, thumb running over the tip.  

“Cas, please,” you begged, drawing him closer, even so close after your climax, your body begging for something else, something more. “Please.”

He released himself, dragged you upright and pulled you clean off the kitchen surface, impatiently kicking the chair away whilst he wrapped your legs around him, cock nudging the inside of your thigh and making you lick your lips feverishly. He moved to rest the small of your back against the edge of the counter, breath fanning hotly over the curve of your shoulder as he adjusted himself to line with your entrance.

“_____,” he said with a sudden verve, primal arousal bleeding into the baritone of his voice.

You lifted your head from his shoulder to look up at him and your mouth dropped open as he rubbed the head of his cock against your drenched lips, teasing you. His eyes stayed locked on you, his face full of fervour and heat, and you let out a carnal sound as he gently pushed through your entrance, your sensitive walls pulsating as he slid himself into you, inch by inch, lips parting and breath catching and blue irises clouding over as he fully sheathed himself to the hilt.

He paused afterwards, giving you both a moment to adjust, small, wet sounds of excitement ghosting over one another. Your grip on his biceps was unrelenting as you felt the stretch of him, feeling him deep inside you. Meanwhile, he was shaking, lip firmly between his teeth at the feel of you embodied around him.

“_____.” Your name exited his mouth on a strangled moan.

He gave an experimental thrust that had both of your minds shutting down instantaneously, and your hold on him grew even tighter as he repeated the motion, testing the waters, revelling in your silky, hot heat wrapped tight around him.

Something abruptly changed, and, using his weight to hold you up against the counter, he began to pitch his hips forward once more, slowly working up a rhythm and moving into you, the feeling of him sliding through your legs such a wonderful relief after all that built-up tension that you began to moan shamelessly, peppered with half-choked versions of his name. He returned the favour, your name dropping from his mouth, all gravelly and hot and low, his pleasured voice hitting you right in your core.

And all through it he never stopped roaming your body, both in hand and mouth, teasing, learning, touching, praying your name into your skin as he drove his hips into you over and over, and you lifted your own to meet him at the crest, crying out as he hit something deep within you with every thrust.

Miraculously, you could feel your body winding up again, building closer and closer to that high, and Castiel surged down to draw your breast into his mouth, suckling gently and groaning against your skin as his movements grew erratic and haphazard with his impending climax. Your bodies were burning all over, all that searing heat swirling and going nowhere, making your movements more defined and harsh, and you were bouncing against Castiel as he fucked into you faster.

“_____,” he said against the wet heat of your nipple.

“Cas, I’m close,” you burst out, the sound of smacking skin filling your ears.

“As am I,” he ground out, teeth gritted and jaw hard.

“Oh, god, Cas – Cas…”

Suddenly, fingers snaked down to draw against your clit, and the added friction was exactly what you needed to send you right over the edge, eyes squeezing shut and chest heaving as you came again, the powerful feeling washing over you as you clenched rhythmically around him.

Your climax triggered his own, and with a deep groan he came just as hard as you, panting and moaning shamelessly against your ear as he keep thrusting, his release starting to drip down the inside of your thighs as he pitched erratically against you, muscles tense and awash with the pleasure coursing through him.

He eventually collapsed against you, spent and exhausted, trapping you between his body and the counter, which was probably a very good thing because you doubted that you were able to even coordinate yourself right now, let alone stand on your own two feet.

It was a long time before either of you were able to even think properly, and when your vision finally swam back into focus you realised that Castiel’s head was in the curve of your neck, breath simmering against your perspired skin, temple resting against your ear. You ran your fingers through his sweat-soaked hair and he groaned softly, hands squeezing your hips affectionately, air rushing through his lips as he slowly pulled out of you, making you wince with sensitivity, your thighs wet and sticky due to the mixture of his release and your wetness.

He didn’t pull away completely though, instead resting his quivering body against your own and murmuring nonsense along your collarbone, wetting it with feathery kisses while he skimmed his palms up and down your ribcage.

“Cas?” you said quietly, exhausted and sated and utterly content.

“Mmm?” He seemed enraptured with your skin, tenderly kissing the soft spot underneath your ear.

“When Sam and Dean said for you to check in on me, I don’t think this is what they had in mind.”

He laughed lightly against your flesh, mouthing along the length of your neck. “No, I suppose not.”

“The kitchen…” you trailed off, eyes roaming over the salt scattered everywhere, the empty bottles and glasses strewn across the counter, the mess…

“In time,” he said soothingly. “We don’t need to move right away. For now, I would very much like to enjoy this moment with you.”

The blue of his eyes rested upon your face, warm, adoring, and relaxed, and you felt your heart skip a beat at all the emotion within them.

“Me too,” you answered honestly, unable to stop the happiness curve your lips into a smile.

He mirrored the action, and his smile seemed to make every bone in your body practically sing with joy.

“Good,” he replied, moving down to gently press his soft mouth against yours.