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“Say it again.”
“I love you. I love you. I love you. I’ll say it as many times as you want me to, sweetheart.”
Dean’s not even fucking kidding. If Cas wants those three words to be his entire vocabulary until the day he dies, that’s what he’ll do. He never thought he would have this and there’s no damn way in hell, heaven or purgatory that he’s not going to do everything in his power to keep it.
With his fingers gripping each side of the partially open maroon zip hoodie hugging Cas’ upper body, Dean drags him into his bedroom and flails a leg to kick the door shut. It’s a bit of a shame Cas isn’t in his holy tax accountant get-up—Dean has been dreaming about ripping off that beige trenchcoat since being told, “You should show me some respect.”
“I love you too.”
Only three more steps to the bed, four if Dean stumbles and with the way his legs are shaking, that’s a real possibility.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”
A smile briefly touches Cas’ lips before it falls into an expression of uncertainty.
Pausing his beeline to his ever faithful memory foam, Dean releases Cas’ jacket so he can cup his cheeks. “What is it, sunshine?”
Cas sighs. “It’s just, I wish I waited.”
“What?”
“I wish I didn’t have sex with April,” Cas clarifies. “My first time, it should have been you.”
It’s so sweet. And so stupid.
“Cas.” Dean brings one hand up to brush a section of dark hair away from Cas’ forehead. “Don’t get me wrong, the thought of you with April, of her touching you at all, it makes me want to storm wherever the fuck reapers go when they die just so I can stab her again.”
Dean’s insane jealousy appears to please Cas. Huh. That could be dangerous—the devastatingly handsome son of a bitch can’t even walk into a retirement home without being hit on.
“But if it didn’t happen, and I didn’t realize sex was even on your radar, I probably wouldn’t have had the balls to tell you how I feel. And, well, it ain’t like I’m a virgin.”
Clearing his throat, Cas mutters, “I’m aware.”
Apparently Cas also has an insane jealousy problem. Swell.
“That means,” Dean leans forward, their lips a hair’s breadth apart, “that I know exactly what I’m doing,” he finishes before closing the distance.
Kissing Cas is something of a religious experience and, really, Dean should have expected that—angel, duh. It starts with a slight hitch in his breathing, like the mere notion of Dean kissing him is a welcome surprise. Then, the gentle press of lips, uncertain, but only for a moment, before they ever so slightly part and a clever tongue sneaks out to caress and swirl.
Resuming his mission—Operation Angel Ass Infiltration—Dean wraps his arms around Cas’ waist and, without disconnecting their mouths, takes a tentative step back, shivering with delight when Cas follows willingly.
When the backs of his legs hit the bed, Dean eases his way down, tugging Cas along until they’re horizontal, lips and dicks lining up perfectly.
“What…do you…want?” Cas gasps between kisses.
Dean manages some sort of hybrid between a hum and a moan, fingers threading through Cas’ hair. How does he convey that he wants to taste every fucking inch of Cas’ skin, find the parts that make him twitch, then fucking lap and suck and nibble and worship until Cas is so blissed out he can’t even remember his own name. Like Cas deserves.
“You. Everything. All of it.”
Hooking his legs around Cas’ hips, Dean heaves his body to roll the pair until he’s on top and straddling Cas’ thighs. Brows furrowed, Cas tilts his head in confusion.
“Do you trust me?” Dean whispers.
Features smoothing out, Cas nods without hesitation. “Of course.”
Slinking back and slipping to the floor, Dean pads over to his desk where his duffle sits, discarded after arriving home from (thank fucking god) finding Cas. He tugs open the end pocket, retrieving two ties he keeps there in case he needs to throw on the FBI monkey suit. He has a far more pressing purpose for them now though.
Swivelling to face the bed, Dean sees Cas has rolled to face him, elbow on the mattress as he rests his head in his outstretched hand, watching him curiously. Dean holds up the material, a burgundy tie in one hand and a striped blue in the other.
“I know you, Cas,” Dean starts, stalking back towards the bed, “I know your instinct is to give, to serve.” Dean swings his leg to perch on top of Cas again, intentionally grinding his ass gently against the hard dick beneath him and relishing Cas’ sharp intake of breath. “So, consider these a precaution, because it’s time someone served you.”
Placing one tie next to him, Dean weaves the other through his fingers and slides his hand down Cas’ arm. Gently, Dean loops the tie around Cas’ wrist, securing it with a slip knot. Then, Dean reaches between the bedhead and the mattress and wiggles his hand under the topsheet. Feeling along the mattress, Dean grins victoriously when he connects with a thin, fabric handle.
Cas is watching him, the blue in his eyes barely detectable with how blown his pupils are, as Dean maneuvers Cas’ bound arm up so he can affix the tie to the mattress.
“This okay, sweetheart?” Dean feels the need to check, chuckling when Cas’ response is an enthusiastic nod and an offer of his other arm. “Always knew you would be a kinky son of a bitch.”
Dean leans down with the intention of pecking Cas but can’t help deepening the kiss. By the time he pulls back to secure Cas’ other arm, Cas' lips are shiny with spit, and a little jolt runs down Dean’s spine at the fact that it is his saliva coating Cas’ lips.
He gets to work fastening Cas’ other arm to the mattress before resting back on his haunches to admire the result—Cas spread out, ready and waiting for him to devour.
“Fuck, you really are so beautiful.” The way Cas’ cheeks pinken at the compliment is so endearing—so human—it makes Dean want to weep. More than that, it makes Dean want to curl him up into a ball and wrap himself around as some sort of shield to shelter Cas from anything in the world that could cause him harm. That protective instinct has always been there, despite it being completely illogical to step in front of a gun for a fucking angel of the lord who wouldn’t even feel as much as a pinch from a bullet wound. But now, considering human Cas is vulnerable, has already fucking died (saving Sam and saving Cas, Dean will be in debt to Ezekiel until the end of time), that instinct has kicked up tenfold.
This moment isn’t about protection though. This is about devotion.
Starting along Cas’ jawline, Dean trails soft, slow kisses down his neck as he reaches for the hem of Cas’ t-shirt and bunches it up to expose Cas’ chest. Skipping over the mound of fabric, Dean takes one of Cas’ nipples into his mouth. The moan this elicits from Cas spurs Dean on, licking and sucking until the bud under his tongue is hard, before redirecting his attention to the other nipple.
Continuing his descent of Cas’s body, Dean slides his hands down Cas’ sides, moving his head to taste the trail of his fingertips whenever he hears a sharp intake of breath. By the time Dean reaches the waistband of Cas’ jeans, he can feel the hardness of Cas’ cock, the heel of his hand grazing the appendage as he fiddles with the top button. Running his tongue along the faint dusting of hair above Cas’ groin, Dean tugs down the fly of his jeans to expose a bright white pair of briefs, clean except for a wet blotch at the tip of the outline of his dick.
“Jesus, fuck, Cas! So fucking wet for me already, baby,” Dean groans, unable to resist suckling the head of Cas’ cock through the material.
“Dean!”
“That feel good, sweetheart?” Dean fucking nuzzles the dick beneath him. “It’s gonna get so,” kiss, “much,” kiss, “better.”
Dean detaches his from face Cas’ crotch only long enough to grasp both sides of Cas’ pants, ensuring the underwear is also within his grip, and lifting Cas’ butt off the bed briefly to finagle them down. Pausing momentarily to consider whether to partially restrain Cas’ legs by keeping his jeans bunched around his knees, Dean ultimately decides spreading Cas’ legs with ease to be of more importance and rips all of the material from his lower half in one motion.
And now, his angel (because he’ll always be Dean’s angel), is naked from the chest down, arms up and knees angled out, open and flushed and breathing raggedly.
“Look at you,” Dean sighs. “Perfect. And all mine.”
The smile that touches Cas’ lips is shy. “I’ve always been yours.”
While it’s a sentiment Dean craves, needs as much as oxygen, it’s still one that causes a pang in his chest. “Wanna deserve to be yours,” he mumbles, burying his head against Cas’ inner thigh to hide the mistiness developing in his eyes. “And you deserve the fucking world. You deserve the kind of love that inspires thousands of authors to write tens of thousands of love stories.”
“Dean.”
“The greatest damn love story of all time, that’s what we are, Cas, that’s what I’ll give you, I promise.”
He could go on and on and on about the affection, the adoration, the fucking all-consuming love he feels for Cas, but instead, he decides to shove a dick in his mouth.
“FUCK! DEAN!”
Spurred on by the desperation in Cas’ voice—and the sheer fucking hottness of hearing Cas swear—Dean slurps and sucks and slithers his tongue up and down Cas’ cock. The mattress makes a creaking noise as Cas tugs on the restraints.
Gripping Cas’ outer thighs for no other reason than to stop himself from floating away on the high of the taste of Cas’ skin, Dean shifts down to give some attention to Cas’ balls, bouncing each of them on his tongue. Moving lower and lower, Dean nudges Cas’ taint with his nose as he splays his hands on the back of Cas’ thighs. He pushes back, spreading Cas’ legs wider to give himself an optimal view of Cas’ pink, clenching hole.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long,” Dean whispers right before he seals his lips around the opening to deliver a long, wet kiss.
“Ohhhhhhhh, Dean.”
The sound of Cas moaning, the feeling of him writhing, it’s all so addictive to Dean as he licks and laps and fucking eats him out like a man possessed.
“Wanna be in you so badly, baby.” His voice is muffled from his position between Cas’ cheeks, but it appears his angel hears him just fine when he replies, “Fuck me, Dean.”
Never before has Dean moved so fast—a damn wendigo could be chasing him and he wouldn’t reach the same speed as he does diving towards the lube stash in his top bedside drawer. Returning to his spot between Cas’ legs with a newly acquired purple bottle, Dean pops the cap, squirts a blob of the gel onto the pads of two fingers, and gets to work circling and prodding Cas’ already saliva-slick hole.
Conscious of Cas’ status as an ass virgin, Dean keeps his movements slow and gentle, easing his fingers in, all the while his own dick is fast reaching extreme levels of discomfort, restricted beneath his jeans. Cas continually moans, “Dean,” his normally gravelly voice becoming squeakier with every vocalization.
“Fuck, opening so beautifully for me, sweetheart.”
By the time Dean is swirling three fingers inside Cas, they’re both shaking, Cas with arousal and Dean with impatience. And arousal.
“You ready for me, baby?”
“Please! Yes, Dean, I’m begging you! Get in me!”
There is zero finesse in the way Dean pulls his fingers out and tears off his pants and underwear, his dick springing free and connecting with his belly with an audible thwack. Far too eager to bother de-clothing his top half, Dean rests back on the heels of his feet, maneuvers Cas’ leg over his shoulder with one hand, and uses the other to line up his cock with Cas’ hole. As he slowly, glacially, slides in, Dean leans forward, hovering over Cas’s body until his dick is far enough in that he can connect their lips. By the time Dean is fully seated inside, their kisses have turned debauched, tongues tangling and lips smacking as Dean shivers at the tightness of the tunnel trapping his cock.
“Shit! Feel so good for me, Cas. So perfect. I knew you would be but fuck! You okay, sweetheart?”
Their foreheads rub together as Cas nods. “Uh huh,” Cas sighs. “Please, Dean.”
Carefully, Dean thrusts, little bounces at first that pull delicious little grunts from Cas’ mouth. There is no sign of pain on Cas’ face, just pure bliss as Dean’s movements grow more confident. Dean can’t help but continually plant kisses all over Cas’ body—his face, his chest, his inner elbow, wherever the fuck he can reach—at least, until Cas is begging him to go harder and Dean can do nothing but tightly curl his arm around Cas’ leg and pound into him to the point that the sounds of slapping skin fill the room.
Dean’s gonna blow, can feel it building, but he’ll be damned if he’s not gonna make Cas come first. Scrunching up his face in concentration, Dean reaches down to grip Cas’ dick, managing to tug in time with his thrusts without breaking any momentum.
“Oh my god, Dean!”
No time to lose his mind over a former angel of the lord taking said lord’s name in vain because Cas’ breath is stuttering and Dean is desperate to tip him over the edge.
“Come for me, Cas.”
With a cry and a gasp, Cas, always willing to do as Dean asks, spurts into Dean’s hand, and all Dean can do is grunt, “Cas, Cas, Cas,” before he follows, releasing deep inside Cas’ hole.
For a few moments, the alternating breaths of the two men are the only sounds to be heard. Then, Dean collapses on Cas’ chest, completely unbothered by the come smearing his shirt. He feels the soft press of lips against his sweaty forehead, lifting his head and smiling at the fond looking angel face staring back at him.
“That was…”
“Yeah. Yeah it was, Cas.”
Dean sighs happily before pressing a tender kiss to Cas’ shoulder. “I love you, so fucking much,” he mumbles against skin.
“And I you, Dean.”
Both of Cas’ arms tug and bound back against the mattress, after which a crease forms between his brows.
“Um, Dean? Can you release me, now? I would very much like to get my hands on you.”
Dean grins. “Hmmm, I dunno about that, I kinda like havin’ you all tied up, at my mercy.”
Pursing his lips, Cas seems to consider this. “Are you sure? I’m anticipating some difficulty when it comes to cuddling.”
“Oh, I think we’ll manage just fine,” Dean teases, wrapping his arms around Cas and snuggling against his chest.
At least ten seconds of silence follows before Dean’s head is jostled by Cas’ until the other man is pressing his mouth to his ear.
“And what if I said that all I want now is to be inside you—my fingers, my tongue, my erect penis.”
Fucking dirty minded angels, Dean thinks to himself as he races to release Cas from his binds.