Dean is pressed beneath Castiel. A bedspring jams into his spine. He doesn’t care. He only cares about the naked skin against his own, and a heartbeat, hot and hammering, in time with his own heady breaths.
”Say it again,” Dean breathes. “Do another one.”
Castiel’s laugh is a rumble that shakes through Dean, and he kisses Dean behind the ear and skims his hand along Dean’s side. “Mi amor,” Castiel murmurs, “Mon cher.”
His hand slides between them as he speaks, wraps around the leaking head of Dean’s cock.
”Again,” Dean gasps. His hips cant into Castiel’s fist.
”Habibi.” Castiel runs his thumb over the slit of Dean’s cock and smears shiny precome over its head. He milks it, slowly, as he speaks. “Canim, hayatim.”
Dean groans, and it’s fast approaching a whine, and he jerks his hips faster, and he can only beg Cas to say more, more.
And of course, Castiel complies. His hand makes sloppy noises against Dean’s dick, lewd percussion to the melody of his words. “Sukidesu yo kimi no koto,” says Castiel. “Ich liebe dich. Ya tebya lyublyu. Olani hoath ol.”It’s the last phrase, spoken with reverence, that sends Dean plummeting. He comes with moaned curses, only English, crude and common, and come spurts onto his chest, onto Castiel’s chest, ricochets as high as Cas’s chin. In the haze of his orgasm, Dean reaches for Castiel and licks away the droplets, tastes his own come, dirt and salt and need. Castiel shudders (lust and bliss) and Dean sags underneath him.
”What was that last one?” asks Dean, once he catches his breath.
Castiel smiles, just a little. “Enochian.”
And Dean laughs. “Good to know heaven got at least one thing right.” Dean rolls over and pins Cas between his arms, and Cas makes a surprised noise, but he certainly isn’t going anywhere. Dean grins, and it’s a promise. “I think you’ve more than earned your gold star.”
Cas rides him hardest during thunderstorms. Every bright crack of electricity in the clouds makes him shove his hips down faster, rolling them like the rumbling of thunder shaking the bricks in the bunker. His nails dig into Dean’s chest and this sight, Cas wild and strong, is the hottest thing Dean’s ever seen.
He moans Dean’s name like the word is punching him in the throat, rough and strained. Dean can’t imagine how intense it must be, how new all this pleasure is when there’s no holy barrier. Cas pulls him to sit up, hands cradling his jaw and teeth pulling at his lips as they kiss.
"I was made of it." They aren’t words as much growls and threats. "I was lightning and power."
Dean shivers and grabs two handfuls of Cas’ ass, delighting in the way he can feel the muscles shift as Cas fucks himself on Dean’s cock. He smiles and nips at Cas’ lower lip. “You still are, baby.”
He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Cas come so hard.
Dean/Zeke (with a side of Sam) porn donation from threat!anon!
Warnings: Forgive me for including some slight fic spoilers here. The consent situation is… peculiar. There is an established relationship between Sam and Dean, and it is recognized that Sam wants to have sex, but he’s not awake at the time of the sex even though he’s dreaming about it. I’m slapping a dubcon label on this to be safe.
have you ever read a smut fic that ended up having a really good plot and destroyed your feelings and youre just like i didnt sign up for this shit all i wanted was my otp to do the butt thing
"Okay, I got one. Let’s role play that I’m me at twenty-five, still in the closet, and hunting alone. You’re you, who just jumped back in time to show me the night of my life."
That’s how Dean ended up in a dive bar at midnight, pretending that he wasn’t waiting for Cas to come through the door. It was spooky how easy it was to turn the clock back ten years and shoot pool like he used to. Maybe he hadn’t changed that much after all. Just subtract a couple of apocalypses, a dead dad, and coming out as bi, and he was right back where he started, more or less.
"Would you allow me to buy you a drink?"
Dean jumped. Because twenty-five-year-old Dean would have jumped, and also because Cas had, as always, managed to genuinely startle him. “Sneak up on a guy, why don’t you?” But then he turned to look Cas up and down and… damn. Twenty-five-year-old Dean might not have had the balls to take Cas up on the offer, but would have wished he had. “Whiskey, neat,” he said with a grin.
Getting to meet Cas for the first time sans barn and sigils and exploding lights was kind of bizarre. He didn’t even get tipsy no matter how many drinks Dean bought him, and he was an absolute wizard at pool. He kept looking at Dean with those big, blue eyes full of fondness and longing. And he was hot. Damn, he was hot, especially when Dean convinced him to leave his coats hanging over the back of a chair and play pool in his shirt and tie.
Twenty-five-year-old Dean wouldn’t have taken this strange man home. Twenty-five-year-old Dean would have flirted with him, maybe kissed him, maybe sucked him off in the alley behind the bar. But right-now Dean wanted more than that, so he and Cas followed the script they had decided on earlier.
"Where are you staying?"
"It’ll be a pain in the ass trying to find a hotel this time of night. I’ve got a room. You can crash with me."
Cas looked Dean in the eye with a smile that was at once innocent and knowing. “I accept.”
Twenty-five-year-old Dean didn’t invite strange men back to his room. But with eyes like that, even without the script, twenty-five-year-old Dean might have made an exception.
The script ended at the hotel room door, because they pretty much knew what to do after that.
They tumbled inside, already kissing, hands already all over each other. Dean dropped his coat and his button-down shirt somewhere between the door and the bed, and he was working on his t-shirt as he let Cas push him down until he was sitting on the mattress.
But instead of joining him on the bed, Cas took Dean’s face in his hands and said, “I’m sorry, Dean.”
Dean fumbled with Cas’s belt buckle. “What for?”
"For everything that will soon be asked of you. For the weight that will soon be placed on your shoulders. Your burden is too heavy already, and I regret that I will find myself playing a part in adding to it."
Cas ran his thumbs over Dean’s eyelids, his cheekbones, his lips. “I can see that you are in pain, Dean. I wish I could tell you that it will get better, but I can’t. All I can tell you is that I will be here for you, in whatever capacity you need me, as often as I am able.”
"And," said Cas. "That now, and ten years from now, and one hundred years from now, you have the most beautiful soul that I have ever seen walk this Earth."
None of that was in the script. Neither were the tears that stung Dean’s eyes nor the vice that gripped his chest.
Thirty-six-year-old Dean cried for his twenty-five-year-old self. And Cas held him until he fell asleep.
It all starts with a kiss, soft and chaste against Cas’s lips in the night when Dean thinks Cas has fallen asleep on the couch. Dean doesn’t know why he kisses Cas. The logical half of his brain says this action of intimacy is Dean just reassuring himself that Cas is actually there and alive. Dean’s heart knows that isn’t the case, but in true Dean Winchester fashion, he doesn’t deal with it. Dean only hopes that when Cas wakes up he has no recollection of this event ever happening.
The next time Dean kisses him, he is bolder and unashamed.
They are on a simple hunt in the next state over when Cas is attacked and bound to a chair by two vengeful fallen angels. Why they didn’t just outright kill him Dean will never know, but he thanks the God he knows isn’t there that they didn’t. He makes short work of killing them and feels no regret whatsoever when he sees their blood on his hands. The only thought in his head is, Cas. Dean doesn’t even untie Cas’s bloodied hands and feet, before rushing forward, kneeling in front of him and cupping Cas’s face with his hands.
"I told you to wait for me, you fucking idiot," Dean yells.
"I’m sorry, Dean," Cas answers softly with a frown and Dean can see tears in his eyes.
Dean just shakes his head and surges forward, kissing him desperately.
"I’m not going to lose you again? You understand?" Dean chokes out.
"I understand," Cas nods.
A few hours later in the bathroom, while Dean expertly stitches up a large gash in Cas’s arm, he suddenly feels an aching need to kiss the former angel again. So he does, kissing Cas deeply with every unspoken words of need he wishes he could utter. Maybe if Dean just keeps kissing him, nothing bad will happen and Cas will be okay.