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Never let it be said that Dean Winchester doesn’t know how to make the best of a bad situation.

In this case bad probably isn’t the right word, or at least not by their standards anyway. As far as curses go he’s seen much worse, and the fact he’s not dead should probably be seen as a positive. Sure, it’s really fucking bizarre to suddenly find yourself half a foot shorter with a sweet rack and hips that curve out, hair falling across your face and a weird feeling like something’s missing in the whole pants area, but hey: he could go write sad emo poems about how much he misses his dick, or he could strip off in the motel room in front of Cas and see if he can convince him to take this body for a test drive.

Test fuck. Whatever.

Having obviously already decided on the option that involves getting laid, because it’s always the right way to go, Dean finds himself standing in their motel room in his lace bra and panties (weird) with Cas who’s just standing there looking perplexed (dude’s always weird).

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean smirks, and his voice is different to usual and yet still recognisably his which is oddly relieving; it’s a little higher, a little breathier (or maybe he’s just putting that on for show), but it’s still got this rough-growled edge to it that stops him from feeling totally ridiculous.

“But Dean,” Cas says quietly in response, no actual point following his protest.

“But nothin’,” Dean tells him, standing on tiptoe to kiss him and unbuttoning his shirt so he can slide it off over his shoulders. Cas’s hands curve gently around Dean’s jaw, safe, but he can tell from the way they tremble how much Cas wants to touch him.

“It’s still me, Cas,” Dean breathes, dragging them backwards so they stumble up against the nearest wall. “Just touch me, know you want it.”

Cas splays his hand over the soft curve of Dean’s stomach, fingers dragging down, down, down until they reach the top of his panties and falter. He’s wide-eyed and bewildered, his gaze not leaving Dean’s; he looks like he has no idea what to do but a desperate need to know. If they both start thinking this through too much they’re gonna get nowhere fast so Dean decides to throw caution to the wind and just go with his instincts, letting the rest follow on from there. Carefully, he guides Cas’s still-lingering fingers between skin and fabric, subtle presses to tell him to keep going lower. Cas seems to realise what he wants quick enough, but that doesn’t translate into any sort of urgency within his movements; his fingertips trail downwards at a torturously slow pace, thumb skimming over the subtle projection of Dean’s hipbone until holy fuck it’s intense, this electric thrum of pleasure that zips through his body as Cas’s hand brushes over his clit and cups to fit between his thighs.

Dean lets out a ragged gasp, fingers digging into the wall where he’s backed up against it and Cas murmurs Dean’s name like it’s shaken from the very core of him, shocked and awed; Dean wonders whether it’s an appeal for further instruction or a reflexive reaction to the gut-punch of arousal that hits him when his fingers slip-slide through the wetness he finds between Dean’s legs. Cas presses his body closer, eyes fluttering closed, and rests his forehead against Dean’s; the height difference is still a little freaky but fuck if it isn’t hitting some sort of size kink Dean never even knew he had. He’s surrounded by Cas like this, around him and above him and everywhere, and the way they’re breathing hot and close, lips almost-but-not-quite touching, only makes it more intense.

Cas’s fingers are stroking over the wet-slick seam of him and it’s so desperately, tantalisingly close to what Dean needs that he’s not even ashamed to beg for it.

“Jesus, Cas, put them in me, need it, fuck,” he babbles, and for a second he almost wants to thrust forward, force the needy jut of his cock against Cas’s thigh before he realises it’s not there anymore and he’s confusing memory with reality. Reality is the way Cas presses two fingers up and in, a gush of sleek wetness coating the digits as he pushes up further; he can’t get in deep from this angle, but the newness of the feeling and the way the heel of Cas’s hand rubs against his clit as he curls his fingers experimentally has Dean crying out, rocking down onto him in a desperate plea for more.

He can feel how hard Cas is where he’s pressed up against him, and the sudden flash of what it would be like to be fucked by him is so intense a pulse throughout his entire body that he can do nothing but ride it out for a few seconds as Cas keeps up that relentless push-pull motion of his fingers. While Dean tops more often than not, it’s not like Cas hasn’t fucked him before and yet there’s something about this that feels entirely new and frightening and Dean wants.

He’s about to press his lips to Cas’s ear, tell him to hurry up and get inside him, but Cas seems to have other ideas, sliding his fingers out of Dean’s body with an obscene sound and leaving glossy smears across his stomach. Dean watches, stunned, as Cas sinks to his knees in front of him, and then everything almost blanks out for a moment as he parts his lips across the front of Dean’s panties and mouths over him as though they’ve done this a thousand times before. It’s incendiary, the way his breath wisps hot under the fabric and saliva seeps through to get Dean even wetter than he already was.

“Fucking hell, Cas,” Dean groans as his head thunks back against the wall, chest heaving.

Cas’s eyes flick upwards in a way that never fails to drive him crazy, and fuck, there are few things he likes better than Cas on his knees in front of him. It’s normally accompanied by the wet click of Dean’s cock sliding into the back of his throat, and Dean could really go for some of that right about now, but as Cas shimmies Dean’s panties down to his knees, gets his mouth on bare skin and licks, Dean’s pretty sure he doesn’t care what his temporarily absent dick wants as long as Cas keeps on doing whatever the hell he’s doing right now.

Apparently giving not a single fuck about his lack of prior experience, Cas doesn’t hesitate in the slightest; he just goes to town with complete abandon, and while Dean knows it’s likely he’s trying to gauge the best techniques through his reactions, he doubts Cas is getting any sort of clear feedback whatsoever since so far he’s been wildly vocal in response to every damn thing he’s done. When he gets his mouth over Dean’s clit and actually sucks, hot and wet and intense, Dean’s legs tremble so much he would probably have fallen over if it weren’t for the wall and the fact that he’s practically propped up on Cas’s chin.

He slides one hand into Cas’s hair, fingers carding through the soft strands, and holy fuck, he could just hold him there and use him and Cas would take it all like it was the best damn thing that ever fucking happened to him; Dean could just press down against his mouth, guide him wherever he wanted him with a leg over his shoulder keeping him in place. Beautiful, obedient Castiel, angel of the Lord, would just let him get off like that, wet smeared over his chin and eyes pupil-blown and dazed like he’s lost it in completely.

His fingers twitch in Cas’s hair but he keeps himself in check, letting him do all the work; and maybe Dean leans his weight into him a couple times, a downward press that arches his back off the wall as he balances on his toes, but the way Cas’s eyes track him as he pushes his chest out and tugs on his hair suggest he doesn’t mind one bit. There’s pressure and heat building, and urgent rush towards a precipice, and he almost asks Cas to stop before he remembers that if he comes now, he can come again minutes later because hot damn, being in this body has its perks.

“Don’t you dare even think about quitting,” Dean grits out, closing his eyes and letting pleasure take over. Not that Cas seems to have any intention of doing so, pressing Dean’s legs a little wider apart with gentle hands and rubbing his thumb in teasing circles on the soft inside of his thigh. He makes a little noise of agreement in the back of his throat as he works his tongue over him and that’s all it takes for the final push, the vibrations tipping Dean over the edge.

It’s endless, this wave of orgasmic pleasure that washes over him and just keeps on going as Cas holds him steady by the hips and doesn’t slow the hot-soaked slide of his mouth even once; Dean shudders and moans his way through it, not a hope of keeping quiet. As the feeling subsides, he feels blissed-out and relaxed and yet edgy and needy like he wants so much more, addicted. Cas’s mouth is still on him, ridiculous and fucking perfect as he is, but it’s edging on just the wrong side of painful, body over-responsive.

“Cas,” he says quietly, and his voice is goddamn wrecked, Jesus. “Ow, dude, sensitive,” he yelps, tapping his fingers against Cas’s cheek and attempting to pull away.

Cas looks up at him, eyes heavy-lidded, and murmurs “My apologies,” so damn earnest like nothing could be more important than Dean’s absolute satisfaction. He slowly slides Dean’s panties back up into place in a way that’s weirdly erotic despite the fact that it’s technically the opposite of undressing him, and places a kiss on his hipbone in a completely unneeded request for forgiveness.

“You’re freaky good at that, man,” Dean pants as Cas moves to stand. “Seriously.”

“I’m glad,” Cas says, the corners of his mouth tipped up in an almost-smile. “It was very enjoyable.”

“I’ll say,” Dean smirks, pulling him in for an open-mouthed kiss that tastes of himself and yet entirely unfamiliar. Cas fits their hips together and the hard line of his still-clothed cock against Dean’s stomach sends a ripple of want through him, this aching desire like something’s missing that needs to be filled. Dean bucks a little and Cas whimpers into their kiss, rubbing against him like he just can’t help himself.

“Hey,” Dean breathes against the corner of Cas’s mouth. “How ‘bout you fuck me and we’ll see how much you like it then. Look at you, you’re fucking wild for it and I haven’t even let you put your dick in me yet.”

Cas groans his name and surges up against him, and Dean totally isn’t expecting the way Cas hoists him up to wrap his legs around his waist, pinned there like he’s something to use. Cas has always had this way of effortlessly switching from submissive and mild to dominant and demanding, and the sudden thrill of it never fails to get Dean’s heart racing. His breasts are pressed up against Cas’s chest through the flimsy fabric of his bra, and there’s all this hair falling around his shoulders in a messy tumble; everything feels so weird but he wants this so bad it hurts. He could tell Cas to put him down, snap at him to stop manhandling him, but the scary thing is he really, really doesn’t want to. This body lets him pretend he’s a different person, maybe one who doesn’t give a shit about supposed-tos and shouldn’t-haves. He’s just some guy who really wants to be fucked, and if he’s all curves and soft skin today then that’s just a bonus once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Cas’s mouth is hungry against Dean’s and holy fuck, he’s undoing his zipper one-handed and he’s actually going to fuck Dean right here standing up like they’re so damn desperate for it they can’t do anything else. Dean realises belatedly that he’s not even naked and there’s damn lace in the way, but Cas just fumbles the material aside and Dean feels the head of his cock bump up against him, hot and hard and not shoving in, and why the fuck isn’t he in him already? For a brief, startling moment Dean’s mind says condom, dumbass but this body is more of an illusion than anything else, a product of a curse that’ll wear off in a few hours at most so thankfully the horrifying idea of getting knocked up isn’t really an issue.

“Dean, is this-” Cas asks him pleadingly, voice a hot mess of sex and eyes wide like he’s anxious they shouldn’t be doing this. That he’s doing something wrong.

“Shh, Cas, it’s fine, fuck me,” Dean begs, urgent and reckless.

Cas stifles a moan into Dean’s shoulder as he pushes up, at the same time letting Dean drop just a little so they meet in this incredible thud of pleasure that shudders up Dean’s spine like nothing he’s ever felt. Where usually it’d be slower, carefully working in and allowing his body to stretch to accommodate, he just gives, letting Cas slide in real easy until he’s all the way inside and Dean’s gasping his name like a prayer. He tightens around him without thinking and Cas groans, low and stupidly fucking hot, and Dean kisses him in a silent appeal for more. Every thrust is a beautiful shiver of pleasure rippling outwards, made all the better by the way Cas just holds him there and makes him take it, over and over until Dean’s falling apart under the intensity of it.

There’s a sudden feeling of imbalance as Cas pulls them away from the wall, but it’s only a couple of steps to the bed where Dean is thrown onto his back as Cas strips off his own remaining clothing before starting on Dean’s underwear.

“Can I?” Cas asks, hand hovering near Dean’s now naked breasts.

“God yeah, anything,” Dean breathes, and means it. Cas covers one with his palm, fingers curving around the soft swell of it, curious. It feels good, Cas’s hands on him and his knuckles brushing over his nipples and tracing underneath across his ribcage, but he’s lying here with his legs spread and Cas might have the patience of an angel but Dean sure as hell doesn’t.

“Dude, come on,” Dean groans. “You can play with my tits while you’re fucking me, you dick,” and whoa but there’s a sentence he never thought he’d hear himself say.

Cas just blinks at him, slow; rolling his eyes, Dean shoves him off onto his back from where he’s propped over him and swings a leg over his waist, positioning his dick and sliding down in a pleasurable drop that makes his eyes practically roll back with how good it feels. Taking one of Cas’s hands in his own, he skims it up the side of his body, over the lush curve of his hip, until it’s resting on his breast again.

“There, see,” Dean grins, breathless, and rolls his hips experimentally. “Awesome.”

It’s a strange experience trying to relearn something he’s done before in an entirely different body, but he eventually figures out the most comfortable rhythm. Cas keeps making these soft little sounds, hips jumping restlessly, and that combined with the way Dean can sink deep and just grind has him close to coming for a second time before long.

“Gettin’ close,” Dean breathes, leaning down to lick filthy-hot at Cas’s mouth and moaning with the change of angle and the way Cas drags gentle nails over his nipple.

Suddenly Cas flips them over and slips out, and Dean curses and grabs at his arm, tries to haul him close again. Cas slides two fingers back inside, but instead of thrusting them just sort of rubs, and Dean’s arching off the sheets with pleasure.

“I didn’t want to ejaculate inside you yet,” Cas explains, and who in the hell even says ‘ejaculate’ in the bedroom anyway? Cas, apparently, and Dean’s body reacts to it as well, a shivery bright thrill as he imagines him spilling everything he’s got pressed deep up inside Dean’s hot little body.

Fuck,” Dean groans, and then he’s guiding Cas with a soft-gasped litany of harder, higher, right there, right there until he’s shaking through another orgasm, Cas’s gaze fixed keenly on the place where his fingers disappear into him.

He’s left a relaxed sprawl of strung-out pleasure and damn, he’d let Cas do anything he wanted with him right now, pliant and wanting. He could turn Dean onto his hands and knees and fuck him from behind, or maybe wrap his hand with Dean’s long hair to guide his head to his gloss-slicked cock where he can find out if it feels different in his mouth to before. Cas does neither, instead leaving Dean on his back and palming his thighs further apart, eagerly sinking in from base to tip again in an easy slide.

“So freaking hot,” Dean says dazedly, fingers dragging through Cas’s hair where it’s damp and curling at the ends. This is nice, just lying there orgasm-drunk and stroking his fingers over the other man’s body as he does all the work and Dean just lies there and takes it, letting Cas have at him hard as he likes.

His thrusts steadily shift from a controlled rhythm to helpless, urgent jerks of his hips as he whimpers and groans Dean’s name into his neck.

“You gonna come, Cas?” Dean encourages him, all smirk and promise as he presses up to meet each thrust. “Gonna shoot your load all up in me, leave it there all hot and wet for you to fuck into later?”

Cas doesn’t answer beyond a gasp but works a hand between their bodies, rubbing at Dean for a few moments until he goes tense with orgasm number three, softer than the first two but still a beautiful wash of pleasure that leaves him panting. Cas fucks him through the aftershocks, groaning as Dean tightens around him until he hitches up inside him one last time and comes, long and hard and with a gasp that sounds almost like sob, pressed up tight against Dean’s body as he shakes through it.

He eventually slides out, cock still jerking and dripping come against Dean’s thigh as he drags over his skin. Dean looks up at the ceiling, hands fisted in the sheets, and tries to catch his breath; his still-spread legs are slick down to mid-thigh with his own wetness and Cas’s come and he feels totally fucking wrecked in the best way imaginable.

“Holy shit, Cas,” he grins, closing his eyes and basking in the feeling. “Was I right or was I right, huh?”

He doesn’t respond, instead startling a laugh out of Dean as he slides the blissful wet heat of his mouth over his inner thigh once again.

Dean sighs and stretches his arms above his head languidly as Cas, ever practical, starts to clean up the mess they made with his tongue.