Comfort is a human concept. Angels do not require comfort. They do not require sleep, food, or drink. Still, despite all this, Castiel couldn’t help but enjoy feel of the soft, feather comforter sliding against his skin with each thrust. It was contrast of feelings that overwhelmed him almost as much as the man beneath him did. The tight heat, the fingers digging into the flesh of his back, the warm puffs of air from Dean’s parted lips, and the soft, slide of sheets. And as they fall over the edge together, Castiel can’t help but enjoy such human concepts.