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Even Angels Have Their Kinks

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The moment Dean steps out of the bathroom, Cas goes very still.

Or at least, his body does.

The thing about Castiel is that his face is as expressive as that of a five-year-old who hasnt been housebroken yet. Why would he have any clue about the subtlety of human expression when the body he’s using only very recently became completely his? He doesn’t, but Dean also suspects that Castiel still likes to pretend that he doesn’t feel things strongly, which is why it’s hilarious when he’s betrayed by the elasticity of his face. Dean will never ever forget the terror on Cas’ face when Chastity beckoned to him that night in the den of inequity.

This look, however, is not terror. Not in the least.

“You okay?” Sam asks, because he is on the other side of the room and can’t see the look on Cas’ face.

Dean can, which is why he can’t speak.

“This is just for the case,” Sam says worriedly. There’s the sound of him getting to his feet, but Dean doesn’t see it happen because he’s staring at Cas, who’s staring right back.

They’ve stared at each other before. Hell, yeah, they’ve been staring at each other in a months-long game of chicken that Dean’s mentally shrugged off as being one of those Weird Things Castiel Does. That doesn’t explain why Dean always plays along, but truth be told he isn’t entirely sure of his own reasons. A part of it may be because he wants to see how long it’ll take before Cas’ll break or stop being weird or just straight-up challenge the status quo.

Today, right now, Cas blinks and looks away.

That’s new.

“It’s just a costume,” Sam says, voice somewhere near Dean’s shoulder. “People are usually more open with information around men of the cloth.”

Dean reaches up to fix the collar of the priest outfit, pulling the starched edges into a more comfortable position. Castiel swallows, but still doesn’t turn back to look Dean in the face.

Very new.

“Cas has a thing about lying,” Dean says, sounding a little hoarse. “Ain’t that right, Cas?”

“When the mission is just, certain rules may be bent,” Cas says, still looking away. “You may not be… qualified to wear that, but you are the Righteous Man, and holy in your own way.”

“Hey, d’ya hear that?” Dean says to Sam, though his head is spinning a little, “An angel practically gave me the green light to wear this.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Fine, let’s do this already.”

Cas doesn’t look at him almost the whole day. Well, actually he does, Dean’s pretty sure of it, but every time he glances up, Cas is studiously looking elsewhere, even if that elsewhere is the goddamn wall.

Dean plays his part, looking wise and offering advice as per his years of experience pulling this role off, while at his side Sam and Cas play the detectives and prod the case at a different angle. Dean does not once slip up, but that’s because he’s awesome at multi-tasking – successfully balancing his kind words and thoughtful nods with the fact that he’s replaying that look he saw on Cas’ face that morning over and over again.

He keeps seeing the way Cas’ chin had snapped up a little as if he’d been hit in the jaw, lips parting to inhale inaudibly. Cas’ eyes had widened but it wasn’t in curiosity, no. That look had been one of recognition and understanding, followed by a tight, almost reluctant fascination as his eyes had swept down Dean’s body and then came back up, lingering briefly on the cross before finally settling on the collar.

Cas had looked at that collar for a really, really long time, breathing through his mouth the whole while like he’d forgotten it was open.

For the first couple of seconds of that unexpected reaction, Dean had thought that Cas was going to go ballistic on him with accusations of blasphemy or whatever.

With the way that Cas is not looking at him now, Dean knows that his reaction was something completely different.

Cas visibly relaxes when Deans steps out of the bathroom dressed in his own clothes again. It’s almost like everything is back to normal. Cas talks, Sam talks, the tv makes some decent background noise, and it quickly becomes obvious that Cas wants to pretend that his stranger-than-usual behavior all day never happened.

Dean could pretend it never happened, too, but he really doesn’t want to.

He waits until Sam’s gone out to get dinner, and then he’s sitting down next to Cas, casual and smiling. “Hey, you.”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas says, suspecting nothing amiss.

Then Dean reaches back to take out the collar from his back pocket, and Cas’ eyes go wide. Dean twirls it a little, watching the way Cas follows it like a – well, not exactly like a cat following a toy, because he’s pretty sure cats don’t look terrified by catnip mice – but his eyes darken as he’s being pulled in towards Dean and the prize dangling in his fingers.

Cas doesn’t say anything, brain apparently offline while Dean slips the collar around his neck. It doesn’t look the same without the shirt but Cas doesn’t seem to care, blue eyes locked like a homing beacon on the space beneath Dean’s chin.

“What’s up with that, Cas?” Dean asks, genuinely curious.

There is a war going inside Cas’ head. Dean’s seen him face that kind of internal conflict before, but not like this. Those previous incidents certainly didn’t culminate with Cas slowly reaching a hand out to touch Dean, fingers hot where they press down on Dean’s collarbone.

Dean slowly wraps his own fingers around Cas’ wrist, and Cas’ eyes snap up to meet his.

That’s all the warning Dean gets, because Cas is suddenly climbing on top of him, crowding deeper into his personal space than he’s ever gone before. Dean stares in shock, not reacting to the first clumsy press of Cas’ lips to his own. Cas understands the sentiment but not how to go about it, and it falls to Dean – once he gets his brain working again – to fit a hand around Cas’ neck and guide him right, their mouths slipping open into wet heat.

Dean had never ever thought that it’d be Cas to make the first move. Dean hadn’t even dared to think that Cas might want this, or even have the first understanding of this thing that’s been simmering between them all these months.

The way Cas is pushing his tongue into Dean’s mouth, he thinks that maybe the angel understands more than he lets on.

Now Cas is moving on bodily instinct, pressing tight and hot against Dean’s for contact. Dean is still trying to wrap his mind around this sudden thing, though his hands are already busy running over Cas’ body to learn its shape. Cas, for what it’s worth, is practically writhing on Dean’s lap like he’s been hard all day.

Which he might have been, now that Dean thinks about it.

“Shit, Cas,” Dean says when Cas lets him catch his breath. Cas doesn’t say anything, too busy placing biting kisses on his chin and then dipping down to mouth the edge of his jaw, gasping when he catches sight of the collar still tucked under Dean’s neck.

Fuck, Dean’s ridiculously hard. Cas is still fully dressed and they haven’t done anything interesting yet but that’s an erection he can feel pressing against his stomach and fuck yeah, he wants it. He wants it so bad he can already feel the burn in his throat when he eventually sucks Cas off, but…

It’s hard to put his hands on Cas’ shoulders and push him back, but Dean manages. “Cas, what is this? What are you doing?”

“I desire you, Dean,” Cas says, mouth wet and pupils dilated. He hasn’t stopped moving, hips still grinding down on to Dean’s lap. “I desire you a great deal.”

“Why? Why now?” Dean reaches up to finger the collar. “Is it this?”

Cas blinks slowly, eyes clearing. He turns away guiltily. “That isn’t you, Dean. I’m not delusional enough to believe that.”

“I should think so,” Dean says. He presses a hand beneath Cas’ jaw, a curve of welcome to draw Cas back. “You know exactly what I am.”

Cas is frowning when he looks at Dean, which is no surprise. Cas may not have a clue about the normal, everyday things, but he knows this loathing that seeps into Dean’s words, and from the way he suddenly presses in tight – chest to chest now, Cas’ heart hammering a mile a minute against Dean’s sternum – he does not approve.

“You are fascinating,” Cas says, voice low and – Dean can’t deny it anymore – unbearably sexy. “You are a mass of contradictions. I could spend an eternity studying you and I will never know all that you are. To see you dressed that way today, it was… It brought to stark light all the contrasts that exist in you. You don’t deserve to wear it, and yet you do.”

Cas starts moving again, ass pressing down on to Dean’s groin with relentless pressure. Dean clings on to Cas’ back while they breathe into each other’s mouths.

“I don’t understand you, Dean,” Cas says softly. “I don’t understand how can make me feel this.”

“Fuck, Cas. Fuck, I want to… Let me…” Dean pushes at him.

Cas doesn’t protest. He lets himself be manhandled on to the mattress, Dean’s greedy fingers pulling at his pants. Dean will taste every inch of Cas’ body eventually, but right now he wants this too much to be distracted. The belt gives away, the zipper following suit, and then Dean’s reaching inside, maneuvering around Cas’ boxers and pulling out that erection into open air.

Dean’s mouth is on it immediately, and Cas makes a high-pitched sound, head falling back to the bed. Cas’ dick is swollen red, the heat of it burning Dean’s lips as he trails sucking kisses all over it. He alternates with slow licks that make Cas’ cock jump, and then finally brings his tongue up to nudge at the ridges. He swipes his tongue teasingly at the fat head until it’s slick with pre-come, and then he presses against the slit and Cas arches his back, groaning in agony.

It’s extremely hot to see Cas like this while almost fully-dressed. There’ll be no filters between the impeccable Cas that Dean’s known for so long and this Cas who’s twisting on the sheets and kicking his legs out helplessly.

“Dean, please,” Cas says. “Dean, I need—”

“I got you,” Dean says. No teasing now, he slides his mouth right down over that red cock, sucking as hard as he can. Cas is shivering, making these delicious almost-pained sounds at every new inch of his entering Dean’s mouth.

He tries to thrust upwards but Dean holds him down. Dean makes it worth his while, sucking hard and fast, head bobbing hungrily to take what he wants. Cas is going to come apart and Dean’s going to get him there, kicking and screaming all the way.

Cas comes shouting Dean’s name.

Dean’s never heard his name said like that before. It’s almost a swear word, wrapped in praise, wrapped in accusation.

The intensity of it is too much, and Dean’s coming in his pants, sparks behind his eyes while Cas continues to pulse eagerly into his mouth. He can’t feel guilty about going off without so much as a touch, not when they’ve apparently been foreplaying for months.

Cas is still whimpering when Dean pulls away, writhing on the bed and tossing his head back and forth like he’s still riding it. He only stills when Dean shucks off his pants and joins him higher up on the bed, pulling Cas into his arms and holding him until he calms down.

Dean feels Cas’ fingers travel to his neck and wrap around the collar, tossing it away.

Later, after Dean gets to come in Cas’ mouth and Cas comes in Dean’s fist, they lie stickily together while Dean replays the day in his head.

Dean, in particular, is trying to parse what Cas had said earlier.

“Let me get this straight,” Dean finally says. “You find faith sexy?”

Cas, looking kind of stupid with a soft smile that changes his whole face, makes a helpless gesture. He will have to learn to shrug properly one of these days.

Dean grins slowly. “So if I were to speak Latin to you…”