Spellwork is an exact science, despite what the scientists like to believe. You can’t fudge at all. It requires the correct ingredients, in the correct amounts, at the correct time, and hell, even sometimes the correct lighting. Which is why there are candles flickering all around the room.
The candles are essential for summoning a succubus. They like the mood lighting, so lightbulbs cannot be used as a substitute. Considering how long it had taken Dean to light them, it’s a miracle he didn’t start a fire.
Or maybe he did, and his whiskey soaked brain just hasn’t realized it yet. Because the summoning spell he just cast is a lot smokier than he thinks it should be.
It takes a few seconds for the smoke to clear enough for Dean to see, although there is enough alcohol still buzzing through his veins that his vision is still blurred. It has to be, because otherwise, he’d be seeing a busty succubus lounging in the center of his summoning circle…
…and that is definitely not a succubus.
As he stares the flexing boobless torso of the nude creature before him, he can only think two things. First, he really shouldn’t be casting spells while completely blitzed, because alcohol induced slurring does not make for correct pronunciation of ancient and dead languages. Second, letting his friends goad him into summoning a succubus when his drunk ass couldn’t handle being teased about how many times he struck out at the bar that night was beyond stupid.
The proof of that is rising to its feet, right now.
Dean kneels, frozen amid the tools of his craft, unable to tear his eyes away from the creature. It is tall and humanoid, with miles of smooth golden skin. Unbidden, his eyes fall on the creature’s groin, and he has to swallow at the sight of its soft cock nestled amid dark curls.
He’s never felt inadequate before, in fact he’s pretty proud of what he’s packing. But for the first time he feels a twinge of envy.
“See something you like?”
The deep voice is mostly devoid of inflection, but it still feels like a physical touch. Smooth, light like feathers brushing over his skin. A shudder flows up from the base of Dean’s spine, and it jolts him out of his trance. His eyes jerk up, and he goes still again.
The creature’s face is human. Strong brow and jaw, wide cheekbones. Dark hair that stands up in all different directions, as if someone has been gripping it in their fists, tugging, pulling-
Dean’s fingers twitch.
And then his attention is snared by the creature’s eyes. Its eyes glow blue, but it’s subtle, almost unnoticeable in the golden light of the candles Dean has spread around the room. The pupils are slitted like a cat’s.
The creature stares at him, searching for something Dean isn’t sure how to define. It tilts its head as if puzzled, although its expression does not change.
“Do you not speak, human?”
A small noise bubbles up from Dean’s throat, and he refuses to call it a whimper. That fucking voice. It goes straight to his head, making him feel like the room is spinning around him, only leaving him free of the nastier side effects of vertigo.
“Who are you?” Dean demands. He’s glad to hear his voice sound steady. Not even a hint of a drunken slur.
The creature’s eyes start to wander over him, and Dean realizes he’s practically kneeling at its feet, so he scrambles to his own. Once it has examined him from head to toe, leaving him feeling stripped bare despite the fact that he still wears his ceremonial robes, it turns its attention to the room.
Dean is about to demand an answer, when it finally speaks. “Cas.”
He blinks. There is power in names, so he doubts that is the creature’s True Name. Cas may be its title, but it is not one Dean has ever heard before. It tells him nothing. He decides to try another angle. “What are you?”
The creature turns away from eyeing Dean’s bed which he pushed against the wall earlier to make room for the summoning circle, and pins him with its gaze again. “I am an Incubus.”
Dean wanted to summon a sex demon, and he got one. Just the wrong kind.
He’s never mixing alcohol and magic ever again.
Something of Dean's growing horror must show on his face, because the creature - no, Cas - finally shows a hint of an expression. The delicate skin around its eyes crinkles, and one side of its full lipped mouth tilts up in a tiny smirk. It steps close to the edge of the summoning circle and resumes staring at Dean as if it is examining the quality of his soul. "You did not intend to summon me?"
Cas's voice is reverberating through Dean, making his skin tingle with anticipation. And that is messed up because he's always had eyes only for the ladies.
Okay there was that one time he'd gotten a little excited when Benny had kissed him on a dare, but he'd been drunk, alright? Apparently he was a complete fucking idiot when he was drunk. Just look at the mess he was in now.
He drags a hand over his face, and sighs at himself. "No, I didn't. I'm sorry." He drops his hands to his side, holding them palm out to show that he does not hold any ritual weapons meant for sacrifice. He should have done that immediately to reassure the creature, but he'd been too shocked at the presence of a male demon in his room and he'd forgotten to be polite to his guest. "I release you from the summoning," he says formally.
Cas tilts his head again - having gotten an eyeful of demon dick makes Dean think he really should stop thinking of Cas as an it - and his top lip lifts away from his teeth in what looks too feral to be a smile. "Thank you, human. However I wish to stay."
Dean takes a step back. He's safe while Cas is trapped within the summoning circle, but that doesn't calm his suddenly racing heart. He hides his trepidation behind more formality. "I apologize again for bringing you here, and if you wish to extract a small favor from me I will be happy to negotiate with you. But then I want you to leave."
He refrains from threatening Cas with a banishment. He can be patient and diplomatic, despite what his brother Sam believes about him. Threatening a creature that as yet has made no move to harm him, and is safely trapped, is downright stupid. And he is starting to sober up enough to make better decisions thanks to the adrenaline flooding his system.
"A favor, you say?"
Dean is really starting to hate the way Cas's voice affects him. His body is reacting to the low rumble in ways that he refuses to acknowledge. It's the adrenaline. He's not getting turned on. "A small one," he clarifies.
Cas's eyes narrow as he considers Dean's proposal. After a long moment in which Dean does his best not to fidget, Cas dips his head regally. "I will take a kiss as an apology for your actions, human."
A kiss? Dean's soggy brain struggles to remember why that sounds like a Bad Idea. He chews his bottom lip, and feels his cheeks flush when Cas's gaze is drawn by the action. Cas's smile widens, and the sight of his inhumanly sharp canines reminds Dean why kissing sex demons should be avoided. Their saliva has a potent venom that lets them control their victims.
This is a tidbit of information he wishes he'd remembered before attempting a summoning.
He huffs out an annoyed breath. "Good try, Cas. But I'm not stupid enough to let you drool all over me."
Cas's eyes widen, and Dean hopes it's surprise over his knowledge and not Dean's disrespect. He hopes Cas doesn't take offense. Even a sex demon can be a deadly enemy when angered.
Thankfully, Cas doesn't address it. "It would be just a simple peck on the lips, human. No more than that."
"Really?" Dean blurts. "No tongue?"
Is that disappointment he's feeling? No. No way. Gods, his head is so fucked up. Fucking booze.
A low rumble emanates from Cas's chest. Soft laughter. It laces his words when he answers. "No tongue."
Dean stares at the incubus through narrowed eyes, trying to suss out any hint of trickery. He feels like he’s missing something, but he truly can’t find anything wrong with the agreement. And a chaste kiss is a small price to pay to send the incubus away. He jerks his chin down in a confirming nod. “Alright. A kiss.”
“You’ll need to come closer, human,” Cas says softly, so low that Dean leans forward to catch the words. He looks down at his feet which are just inside the chalk lines of the summoning circle. “I would come to you, but…”
Dean looks down as well, at first just to check the lines are still in place. But his attention is caught by the delicate bones and tendons of Cas’s feet. He blinks, and shakes his head, abashed at himself for the sudden urge to run his lips over the golden skin there. He’s never in his life had a foot fetish, so he has no idea where that came from.
Duh, Incubus. Sex demon. And apparently Cas is putting out come fuck me vibes, even from within the containment spell.
He snaps his eyes back up and takes a fortifying breath before closing the space between them. He stops just outside the summoning circle, near enough so that he only has to bend forward a few inches to touch their lips together. This close, he can see that Cas is an inch or so shorter than him, but they are almost eye to eye. It’s an odd sensation since he towers over most women, and is accustomed to looking down much further to see the mouth he is about to kiss.
He realizes he is staring when Cas’s lips twitch into a smile again.
“A little closer, human,” Cas murmurs. “I cannot pass the circle’s border.”
Bracing himself against the awkwardness of kissing a male, Dean closes the last of the distance between them and presses his lips against Cas’s. Warmth blooms where they touch, and Dean’s heart begins to pound. He tells himself it is fear that Cas lied and is going to take more than this. He refuses to acknowledge the twinge of desire in his groin. Any physical reaction he has is not his own. He is in the presence of a creature that exists purely for physical pleasure, and it is natural that Dean’s body would react even though he prefers the company of women.
He’s not sure how long is the right amount of time, and Cas is making no move to end the kiss. Five seconds? Ten seconds? When does it become more than a peck?
He settles on fifteen seconds, and then pulls away. With difficulty. Already he misses the warmth of Cas’s lips under his own.
Cas is smiling up at him, eyes glowing softly and pupils relaxed into a half oval. Dean can’t look away, although he’s not sure if he’s even trying.
“Thank you, human,” Cas breathes against him. His breath smells of cloves and honey, and something musky that Dean’s muddled brain can’t identify. “That was lovely.”
“Uh… you’re welcome.” His own voice sounds strange. Low and breathless. He clears his throat and takes a step back, reaching up to rub at the warm skin at the back of his neck, and finally forces himself to look away from the Incubus. “So it was… nice meeting you. Sorry again. I do dumb things when I’m drunk sometimes.”
“You are forgiven,” Cas says.
Then steps over the edge of the summoning circle and back into Dean’s personal space.
When it comes to the fight or flight instinct, Dean’s first reaction is always fight. He opens his mouth to start the banishment spell, but he’s too late. Cas surges forward and captures the words with his mouth, invades Dean with his tongue. His fingers weave themselves into Dean’s hair, holding him still, forcing him to accept Cas’s kiss.
There is nothing chaste about the way Cas’s mouth claims Dean’s. His tongue traces the edges of Dean’s teeth, brushes against the sensitive skin inside his lips, and twines around Dean’s own tongue. The taste of cloves, honey, and musk fills him, running down his throat, invading his sinuses. It seeps into his veins, and his own blood carries the venom to every inch of his flesh. Faster and faster as the cadence of his heart increases.
There is no resisting the venom. Dean’s body betrays him, pulling Cas closer instead of pushing him away. He is no longer a passive participant in the kiss. His own tongue pushes into Cas’s mouth, and he sucks at him, bites his lips, and presses close, whimpering when he can’t feel Cas’s skin because the cloth of his robe is in the way.
He becomes aware of a needy whine vibrating in his throat, and the part of his brain that somehow isn’t completely enslaved by the venom is embarrassed by it. It gives him the strength - just barely - to pull away, although the obscene sucking sound Cas's mouth makes when he releases Dean’s bottom lip almost causes him to lose that small modicum of willpower.
“You…” He’s panting; words are difficult. “You lied.”
Cas’s pupils constrict, and he tilts his head, clearly confused. “I did?”
Gods damn him for playing innocent. But anger gives power to Dean's ability to resist the venom, and he loosens the grip he has on Cas’s waist. His voice is steadier when he tries to speak again. “You said you would leave in exchange for a kiss.”
The confusion drains from Cas’s expression, and his smile is sly. “I said I would forgive you for summoning me in exchange for a kiss. I said nothing of leaving.”
Well son of a bitch. Dean knows he missed the loophole, but that’s a huge fucking loophole to miss.
“I am never drinking again,” he mutters. Not only did he let the incubus trick him, but apparently he also screwed up the lines of the summoning circle since the containment spell didn't work, and he hadn’t even noticed because he’d been too busy eyeballing Cas’s friggin’ feet.
Cas’s eyes harden, and his lips tighten into a flat line. “No, you will not. I prefer my pets to be healthy, and alcohol is not good for you.”
“Your pets?” Dean squeaks in surprise. “Do you mean me?”
He becomes aware of strong hands petting down over the back of his neck, and it’s soothing, despite everything. “Of course, human. You are quite lovely, and I would very much like to keep you.”
“That’s not how this works,” Dean protests weakly. He’s being backed toward the bed, but he makes no move to stop it from happening.
“How do you think ‘this’ works?” Cas asks as he gently lowers Dean to the mattress.
The memory foam feels soft under Dean’s body, and his legs fall open on their own, hindered only by the narrow skirt of his robe. Sam thinks Dean’s love for his bed is unhealthy, but Dean has never been happier to be on his back before. Most spell casters eschew modern conveniences, feeling that their magic should provide everything they need, but Dean has never subscribed to that notion. Besides, he’s a Warlock. He summons spirits and demons from Other Realms, not comfortable mattresses.
Cas’s palms slide up the inside of his calves, pushing the robe up over his legs, bringing Dean’s thoughts back to the matter at hand. “This,” he says, gesturing between them. “You’re supposed to be the pet, not me.”
He realizes he said the wrong thing when Cas’s nostrils flair, and the glow of his eyes brightens. “You humans enslave my kind, bonding them and forcing them to serve. You know nothing of what we truly are.” The glow dims, but not the intent in his expression. “But I will teach you.”
Dean is wholly aware of Cas's hands curling over his knees and pushing them wider, but he can't muster up the resistance to keep them from falling open in invitation. The cloth of his robe pools around his hips, leaving him exposed to Cas's glowing gaze. He'd gone to the bar commando, hoping to score with an eager coed, or maybe even a hot cougar.
Instead he’s been roofied by a sex demon. Fan-fricken-tastic.
His dick doesn’t have the same qualms as Dean’s brain, because it’s already hard and arching up against his belly. Dean flushes hotly when he notices Cas examining him, but he can’t deny the little twinge of pride in his breast when the incubus’ lips turn up in a satisfied smirk.
Cas leans forward, and Dean’s dick twitches in anticipation. He’s surprised when Cas veers to the side and presses a kiss against the inside of his thigh, just above his knee. The muscles in his leg jump when Cas flicks his tongue out over the spot he’d just kissed.
The skin there burns, but it doesn’t hurt. The heat spreads with each beat of Dean’s heart.
Cas shifts and repeats the motions on Dean’s other leg, first kissing gently, then running his tongue over the spot. The burn seeps through Dean’s skin, into his blood, boosting his arousal. His breath comes in sharp gasps as Cas switches back and forth between his thighs, kissing, licking, moving closer and closer to the junction between them.
He stares up at the ceiling, refusing to look down and watch Cas’s slow progress in the direction of his dick. He may be really fucking horny, but it’s not him. It’s not the soft lips, and the warm tongue. It’s the venom.
Dean squeezes his eyes shut and clamps his teeth over his bottom lip as Cas’s breath brushes over his engorged dick. Gods, that mouth… that beautiful mouth that looks like it was made for sucking cock… it’s so close. He could probably shift his hips and-
“Human, look at me.”
He stubbornly keeps his eyes closed, and clenches his teeth to hold in an angry protest over being called human like some kind of lesser creature. He didn’t cast the binding spell yet, so there is no way Cas was going to call him Master. And Dean sure as fuck isn’t going to give the incubus his name. His body may be happily betraying him, but he still has enough presence of mind to keep that little piece of information to himself.
Cas’s hands are still on Dean’s knees, holding them open despite the fact that Dean hasn’t bothered trying to close them. His thumbs are tracing small circles against his skin. Dean is hyper aware of the touch because it makes him want to spread his legs wider, or pull his knees up to his chest and offer himself to the incubus.
So when the touch disappears, Dean whimpers in protest. His eyes fly open when it reappears at his waist, sliding up under the cloth off his robe and pushing it up to bare his stomach. He immediately lifts his head and sees Cas kneeling on the mattress between his legs.
His body looks golden in the candle light. His shoulders are broad, his arms and chest muscled yet not overly so. His cock, which had been soft the last time Dean looked is now hard and flushed dark with blood. Saliva pools under Dean's tongue, and now he's imagining the weight of it in his mouth.
"I would like to take this off of you now," Cas murmurs, drawing Dean's attention back up to his face. "Let me see all of you."
What's left of Dean's tattered willpower is shredded apart like the thinnest gossamer. All he wants is to feel skin against skin, and getting naked is his top priority. He responds by grabbing the cloth bunched over Cas’s wrists and tugging it up. He wiggles and squirms so what's caught beneath him comes free, unaware of the delightful show he's putting on for the incubus, then sweeps it up over his head and tosses it off the bed. He has the presence of mind to make sure it doesn't go anywhere near a candle, but otherwise his focus is on scooting closer to Cas.
His thighs frame Cas's knees, and he reaches up to pull the incubus down into another open mouthed kiss. He moans happily when cloves and honey floods over his taste buds again.
Cas allows Dean to take the lead, humming in encouragement when Dean's hands start to explore. But when Dean starts shifting and whimpering, his body unconsciously begging for more, Cas breaks the kiss. He ignores Dean's grunt of protest and with a palm planted over Dean's heart, shoves him back on the bed.
The movement is rough enough that it shocks Dean into a moment of clarity. He's horrified by his actions, and stares up at Cas with wide eyes. His breath saws in and out of his lungs, and his ears pound with each labored beat of his heart.
Cas shifts and lays down between Dean's thighs, resting most of his weight on his elbows. Dean's dick is trapped between their stomachs, and despite his fear, it takes every ounce of willpower not to grind up against that silky skin. He can feel Cas's cock nudging the back of his thigh and he's torn between wanting to pull away, and the growing urge to try and rub against it.
The incubus is making soft soothing sounds and offering his fingers over Dean's face and neck and shoulders. "Shhh... shhh... I will take care of you." He hums low in his throat and leans down to nuzzle Dean's jaw, scraping his lips and cheeks over the stubble there. "You are such a pretty creature."
Dean huffs in irritation. He had spent his life hearing that he's pretty, and it always annoys the hell out of him. "I am not pretty."
Cas lifts his head to look at Dean, one eyebrow raised in question. "Oh?" His expression turns thoughtful, and his eyes flick back and forth as he examines Dean closely. His fingers come up and touch the delicate skin at the edge of Dean's eye, brushing lightly at his eyelashes. "But you have such beautiful eyes... so green, yet flecked with precious gold."
The drag of Cas's fingers tickles a little bit when he traces them down over Dean's cheek and across his bottom lip. "Pink lips," he continues in a hypnotizing murmur, "so plump, and kissable. Made for being tasted." He punctuates his words by bending down to press a barely there kiss at the side of Dean's mouth.
Dean turns his head toward Cas, hoping for more. He whines when Cas dodges him. God, he is burning up inside. He doesn't even care anymore that Cas is male. He wants him. He wants everything. His hands, his mouth, even his dick.
No… no, no no no.
But the voice of denial grows fainter as Cas continues his speech.
A finger brushes over the bridge of Dean’s nose. “Freckles. Do you know what that means, human?”
Dean shakes his head weakly.
“It means,” Cas presses a kiss to his cheek, “you are so beautiful,” then the other cheek, “that the Sun cannot resist you.” He kisses the tip of Dean’s nose, which is weird, but fuck if he doesn’t like it anyway. “It has left the mark of its kisses all over your skin.”
His attention turns away from Dean’s face, following the path of his hand as he runs it down over Dean’s throat, traces the peaks and dips around his collarbone. He leans down and presses a kiss against Dean’s adam’s apple. He nibbles at the skin, moving lower, licking and kissing a path down the center of Dean’s chest.
He stops over Dean’s heart and lifts his head again. The glow of his eyes seems dimmer because his pupils have dilated even further. His lips are parted, and he’s panting shallowly as if he’s pulling Dean’s scent in through his mouth and savoring the flavor.
Dean struggles to cling to the last of his resistance. “Why…why are you doing this?” he gasps. “Don’t you want a female?”
Cas is busy watching his hands draw symbols across the planes of Dean’s chest and stomach. “Why would I want a female?”
“You know, because-” he sucks in a surprised breath when Cas dips his head and bites the soft flesh of his belly. “Hey!”
Cas’s teeth are sharp, and Dean can feel how close they are to breaking the skin despite the bite being gentle; Cas is careful not to hurt him. He releases the roll of skin, and runs his tongue over it. His eyes flick up, curious. “Because..?” he prompts.
It takes Dean a moment to remember what he was saying. For the length of several heartbeats he stares at Cas in consternation. It comes back to him when Cas seemingly gets bored with waiting and goes back to pressing soft kisses at random places on his torso. He shakes his head in a vain attempt to shake the thought loose again. “Don’t you guys go around impregnating women with demon babies?”
Cas hums softly and runs his palm over Dean’s belly, stopping low, where a woman’s womb would be. “You would be quite lovely swelling with my offspring…”
Eyes shooting wide, Dean goes up on his elbows and starts trying to wriggle out from under Cas’s weight. “No. No. Fuck you. You are not going to-”
He goes still when Cas surges over him and captures his face in his hands. His tongue invades Dean’s mouth, filling him with the sweet nectar of his venom.
It calms Dean, and he sinks back on the bed, letting Cas nibble and lick at him. He forgets why he was upset. His entire focus is narrowed down to Cas’s lips and tongue against his own. He doesn’t even realize that his hands slip up around the back of Cas’s neck and weave through his hair, pulling him closer.
He’s lost all sense of time by the time Cas ends the kiss. His lips throb, and there is a tingle under his skin. Vaguely he wonders if it’s possible to overdose on Incubus venom.
Cas is petting him, running fingers through his hair and across his cheeks, and stroking his ears. When Dean realizes his eyes are closed, he opens them and finds Cas gazing down at him with a fond twist of his lips. “You do not need to worry about my breeding practices, human,” Cas says softly. “Your body is not equipped to carry my children, but that does not mean I do not wish to couple with you. My kind do not only mate to reproduce.”
“Mate?” Dean croaks. “What does that mean?”
Cas doesn’t answer. The faint smile he’s been sporting since Dean first summoned him has disappeared, replaced by an almost imperceptible frown.
Once again, the sex haze clears a little when fear seeps in around the edges of his brain. “Cas? Why’re you talking about mating?”
The smile comes back, softer and less sly. “I like the way you say my name, human.”
Dean wants to demand an answer, but when Cas dips his head and laps at one of his nipples, his brain melts and leaks out of his ears, and he no longer remembers what they were talking about.
His nipples have always been sensitive, but with Cas’s venom running through his veins, everything is heightened. His skin feels as if it is being gently pricked by millions of tiny needles, and the tips of his fingers are doing this weird half-numb thing that makes him want to rub them against anything in reach - which right now is Cas and all of his warm, bare skin. It should be uncomfortable, but it makes him writhe and wriggle in an attempt to get anything to touch him, whether it's Cas or just the brush off his sheets. Even breathing feels fucking fantastic, and Dean’s eyes roll back in his head as he sucks in a deep breath at the same time Cas sucks a nipple into the wet heat of his mouth.
His hands go back to the dark nest of Cas’s hair, pulling him closer. His back arches off the bed, and a broken sound spills from his lips as the motion rubs his dick against the hair at Cas’s groin. He can feel the burning hot press of Cas’s dick against his hip, and he wriggles against it.
Every qualm he had about the gender of the demon has melted away. He needs. Friction, heat, more.
“Oh god,” Dean moans. “Please, Cas. Please.”
He doesn’t know what he’s asking for. His brain isn’t functioning at that level of coherency anymore. He’s barely aware that he’s begging at all.
Cas releases his nipple with an obscene slurping sound, and Dean cries out a wordless protest. But the loss means that Cas can now lavish attention on his other nipple. It’s torture and a reward, and Dean doesn’t want it to end. He stares sightlessly at the ceiling, his whole existence narrowed down to Cas’s mouth against his skin.
Eventually, Cas raises up over Dean again, staring down at the marks his lips left behind. He seems oblivious to Dean’s fingers in his hair attempting to pull him back down. His body is smaller than Dean’s, but it is still inhumanly strong in comparison. The glow of his eyes is warm with something that looks suspiciously like pride.
Dean is hovering on the edge of an orgasm. He can feel it building in the base of his spine, rolling hot and urgent in the pit of his belly. “Cas... “ he whines as he tilts his pelvis up in a bid for more friction.
He needs to come. But he can’t… why can’t he… why…
He must be babbling out loud, because Cas begins petting him in long, soothing strokes over his chest and belly. “Shhh… I’ll give you what you need… shhh…"
When Cas slides a hand between them and wraps long fingers around Dean’s dick, Dean arches off the bed with a howl. The pressure that had been building inside him is finally released, and waves of pleasure flow over him. It centers around his dick, which is jerking inside the ring of Cas’s fingers as he comes, but he feels it through his whole body. It pounds through him to the rhythm of his galloping heart, over and over.
The overwhelming pleasure whites out his brain, and he doesn't come back to himself for several long minutes. When he does, he has to blink several times to focus his eyes. Cas hovers over him, straddling him now instead of laying between his legs. Dean doesn't remember him moving, but the weight of Cas’s hips over his own grounds him, leads him back to himself.
His chest is damp with sweat and semen, but he barely notices. All his attention is on Cas, who is petting him again, his hand damp with Dean’s own come, murmuring praise.
“Good… yes… so beautiful. Such a wonderful, beautiful human... “ he is doing that shallow panting thing again, scenting Dean, at his temple, his throat, his chest where his tongue flicks out to lick up the semen coating his skin. The low hum of his voice sinks into Dean, making him drowsy.
His eyes slip closed, and he barely registers Cas’s pleased murmurs before he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.