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Dean’s always liked kissing, and it’s only gotten better with Cas. Cas has a certain focus and finesse that Dean’s not used to but is quickly getting spoiled by. Cas always devotes one hundred percent of his care and attention to the task, even on a lazy afternoon like this one – TV watching that turned into a complete disregard for personal space that turned into Dean spread out on the couch cushions, Cas settled on top of him, their legs tangled together. Dean can’t get enough.
It’s been a long time since Dean’s been able to indulge in kissing for the sake of it, knowing it’s not necessarily going anywhere. The amazing thing is, it doesn’t have to go anywhere; there’s no pressure to hurry or hastily seize the opportunity like it’s the last they’ll ever have.
That knowledge hadn’t sunk in with Dean right away. He used to cling jealously to his found happiness with Cas, expecting it to slip away from him at any moment. But now he knows better—this is something he gets to keep, and that sense of permanence is a heady luxury that he’s not going to take for granted. There’s no need to rush.
They’ve kept things relatively tame so far, no excess tongue or hands wandering to scandalous areas, but that doesn’t mean Dean isn’t thinking about the possibility of more. It’s never too far from his mind when they’re like this—pressed together head to toe, Cas a warm weight above him, his soft mouth on Dean’s. And, well, they might not have to hurry, but sometimes Dean most definitely wants to. Like right now, for example. Cas just feels too damn good to keep up with this slow, aimless pace forever.
But of course Cas chooses to abruptly pull away at the exact moment Dean’s hoping to move things along a little. Dean fails to stifle a noise of protest, but he does manage to stop himself from literally pouting over the interruption, so he at least maintains a small amount of dignity.
Cas leans back and just looks at him for a moment, intently drinking him in. Dean’s mostly used to being scrutinized like this by now, the fondness in Cas’s eyes, one wide palm carefully cradling Dean’s face, but it never fails to put an excited little flutter in his stomach. Dean leans into the touch and tries to pull Cas back down, but Cas obviously has other plans. He doesn’t budge an inch.
“You’re so lovely,” Cas sighs with a faint smile on his face, tracing Dean’s cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.
That sort of frank earnestness used to embarrass Dean, but he’s learned to enjoy it. No one’s ever made him feel the way that Cas does, and maybe that’s not so scary after all. Maybe that’s kind of the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
He still flushes at the compliment and pastes on a grin, hoping to deflect focus from his burning face. “Not so bad yourself,” he replies. He was aiming for a sort of flirty, casual confidence, but his words come out breathy and sincere. He doesn’t even mind; being emotionally honest isn’t scary anymore either. The way he feels about Cas isn’t exactly a secret. Dean reaches out and lets his fingers brush against Cas’s jaw, relishing the scratch of stubble. Five o’clock shadow looks damn good on Cas.
“Thank you,” Cas says, smile widening at Dean’s touch. “The way you look at me is very… flattering.”
Dean feels himself blush again, and, okay, maybe he is slightly embarrassed for being so obvious, but he’s glad to know that Cas realizes how desired he is. He’s gotta admit, self-satisfaction is a really good look on Cas too. “The way I look at you?” he says with a snort. “Sometimes I catch you staring when we’re working a case and you look like you’re gonna have your way with me right there in the sheriff’s station.” Honestly, it’s enough to get them arrested for public indecency.
“I do find you very distracting,” Cas admits, still caressing Dean’s cheek. “I wish I could kiss you all the time. Your mouth is so…” he trails off and leans in to demonstrate instead.
Dean surges into the kiss, but Cas makes no attempt to go beyond a tender press of his mouth against Dean’s. Dean huffs in frustration when Cas pulls away, irritated even as he starts to sweat when Cas fixes his attention on him again. He licks his lips because he knows Cas is watching.
Cas doesn’t finish his thought, just smiles darkly to himself, eyeing Dean’s mouth, thumb swiping across Dean’s lower lip. “Sometimes all I can think about is getting you alone.”
Dean feels his heartbeat pick up at the way Cas’s voice dips lower, his tone not so light and casual anymore. That look is in Cas’s eyes right now, his intentions clearly written on his face. But they’re not in the middle of job right now; they have the chance to actually do something about it, no need to tamp down their urges until they finally have some privacy. This could be the start of something interesting instead of a tortuously distracting temptation.
“Got me alone right now,” Dean says slyly, a smirk forming. He’s hoping to coax Cas into action because the low thrum of arousal he’s been ignoring is sparking to life, and the heat in Cas’s words is definitely promising.
“I do, don’t I?” Cas replies, humming agreeably. “That does open up a lot of possibilities.”
Dean runs his hand down the length of Cas’s spine, gazing up at him in a way that he hopes is enticing. “You wanna elaborate on that?”
Cas watches him calmly for a moment. Dean’s almost not sure if he’ll reply, but then he sees the determination in Cas’s gaze solidifying. He’s just thinking, taking his time. “As tempting as your mouth is, I wouldn’t stop there,” he says eventually. “I’d kiss you here…” He pauses, fingers ghosting down the length of Dean’s jaw – “And here,” he adds, voice quieter, not actually doing anything, the bastard, just grazing Dean’s neck with a light touch. “I just want to get my mouth on you, scrape my teeth against your throat the way you like. Find a spot with my lips and give it some attention, leave a mark for you. One we can both look at later.”
Dean had kinda been hoping that Cas didn’t notice how much being marked up turned him on, but now that he knows Cas is into it too, that’s an entirely different story. Dean tips his chin up in invitation, offering up a bit of unblemished skin for Cas’s mouth, but Cas doesn’t take advantage of it the way Dean had hoped. He just traces Dean’s pulse point with the tip of one finger, watching Dean with hooded eyes and letting him imagine it.
Cas forges on, unmoved. “I could take my time with you,” he muses. His words have taken on a more intentional tone of seductiveness. He’s probably picked up on the way his words are making Dean fidget, the way Dean’s fingers have wound tighter in the fabric of his t-shirt. “Get you so overwhelmed with lust that you’re panting and begging. You like that too, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Dean sighs, knowing his face is lighting up at the idea. So what if that’s a rhetorical question—maybe if he’s eager Cas will actually fucking do something. Dean tries to roll his hips up, encourage his growing arousal, let Cas feel exactly what this is doing to him. Anything to give him a little incentive to get this show on the road.
Dean’s pleased with himself when Cas leans in to kiss him again, but the press of his lips is just as fleeting as before. Cas leaves another kiss on his jaw, his cheek, his temple, shifting up to murmur in Dean’s ear. “But sometimes I get impatient.” He noses along Dean’s hairline, breath hot on Dean’s neck. Dean starts to sweat. “I want to undress you right away, want to touch, get my hands on your smooth skin, feel how soft and warm you are.”
His hand just barely slips beneath the worn fabric of Dean’s shirt, but he doesn’t follow through on the suggestion of undressing Dean. He just lets his palm rest there heavily, his grip on Dean’s hip sure and firm, fingers cool against Dean’s overheated skin. Dean’s properly hard now, and Cas’s thumb tracing aimless patterns so close to where his body is screaming for touch might actually do him in.
Cas leans back to give Dean a wicked smile. “I like to find all your sensitive spots. There are so many—I won’t be satisfied until I’ve seen to each one.” He does no such thing, just eyes the spot on Dean’s neck again and kisses it so so gently, only a brief brush of his lips before he pulls away.
Dean wonders if Cas can feel the way his pulse is pounding.
One of Cas’s hands trails up Dean’s stomach, skirting around Dean’s nipples and caressing his chest in a way that could be construed as innocuous but is driving Dean fucking crazy. “Make you gasp and squirm, put your hands on me and dig your fingers in so I keep going. I’m always lost to the desire in your eyes,” he murmurs. “The sight of you, your breath heavy, face flushed with arousal, the way your skin feels against mine, it—it excites me too.”
Cas shifts his hips just the slightest bit then, reminding Dean how closely they’re pressed together, the sensation on his neglected erection surprising and intense.
Cas hums indulgently when he feels Dean press against him, but he doesn’t lose his focus. “You get so worked up so quickly—you’re so hard by the time I get my hand around you,” he rumbles, almost reverent. “I love knowing that you want me as badly as I want you.”
That’s definitely the case now. Dean’s cock is a hot and insistent throb between his legs and he stifles a whine when Cas moves just the tiniest bit again, enough for Dean to feel that he’s not the only one getting turned on here. He can feel Cas’s dick through thin fabric of their sweatpants, gratified that the thought of him does that to Cas.
“You get impatient too. You want me inside of you.”
That’s not even a question, but Dean mutters another yeah anyway.
Cas seems encouraged by Dean’s enthusiasm, a glint in his eye. “But I won’t let you rush me for this part. I like to be thorough. I want you so ready for me you can hardly stand to wait any longer.”
Cas’s hand carefully threads through Dean’s hair, not even pulling or gripping hard. His fingers don’t tighten the way Dean wants them to. The touch is still nice, but it’s a terrible tease, a maddeningly innocent contrast to the images Cas is painting in his mind.
Just then, Dean’s hit by an awful realization: Cas doesn’t plan to make good on any of this, not anytime soon—if at all. His gravelly voice and explicit words are all Dean’s going to get, but honestly, with how keyed up Dean is already, that might be more than enough.
“I think I’d start with my tongue,” Cas says thoughtfully, pausing and licking his lips in a way that Dean knows is deliberately provocative. “I know how you like that. You make the most amazing sounds. You try to hide your face in the pillow, but I can feel how your thighs tremble beneath my hands.”
He caps that off with a perversely chaste kiss on Dean’s cheek, one hand sneaking under the inside of Dean’s knee and sliding up the back of his thigh, wrapping Dean’s leg around himself more tightly. Dean tries desperately to rut into the added pressure against his cock, but Cas’s strong hold keeps him in place. He’s solid and immoveable, especially when he wants to be, and although Dean’s nearly out of his mind with frustration, he still finds that hot as hell.
“But you need more than that, and I want to give it to you, use my fingers instead,” Cas continues, clearly enjoying himself. “When I curl them just right you’ll moan for me—you’ll leak all over yourself.”
Dean’s in a similar state right now, feeling constricted even in his sweats, cock aching. “Cas, c’mon,” he mumbles, but it falls on deaf ears.
“I could do that for hours,” Cas says dreamily. Dean knows that’s not an exaggeration, and he’s almost done in by the image of Cas stringing him along for ages, wringing out every last ounce of pleasure, loving every second of rendering Dean an incoherent mess. “Would you let me?”
Dean thinks no, you fucking sadist, but whimpers, “Yeah,” instead.
Cas grins at him serenely. “How many fingers would you like before I fuck you?” There’s a pleasurable swoop in Dean's stomach hearing Cas say that; once he got the hang of the terminology, there was no looking back, and Dean’s been suffering ever since. “Three? Four?” There’s a weighty pause, Cas’s face strangely serious. “More than that?”
Dean’s floored by the implication Cas is making there, swearing under his breath as he imagines Cas’s whole fucking hand inside him, stretching him wide, filling him up so thoroughly. They’ve never done that, never even talked about it, but of course Cas doesn’t miss Dean’s reaction. Cas’s expression turns calculating – Dean can sense his intrigue – but he lets it be for now.
“But you can’t wait any longer. Neither can I—I need to have you.” There’s the slightest waver in Cas’s voice there, a microscopic break in his composure, and if any part of this filthy diatribe was just a show for Dean’s benefit, that definitely wasn’t. “You make this noise when I slide into you,” Cas continues, brushing his lips against Dean’s cheek, hand sliding lower on his hip, pinky finger dipping just below the waistband of Dean’s sweats. “I think about it all the time.” There’s genuine lust, genuine longing in Cas’s voice now. “I remember your face, how pink you get, your eyes closed, enjoying it. And I think, I did that, I gave you that pleasure. It’s intoxicating.” There’s another hitch in Cas’s breath; he’s so hard, Dean can feel it. “I’ll never get enough of it—you letting me make you feel good. You make me feel good too.”
Cas licks his lips again, and this time Dean knows it’s not just for his benefit. Cas is getting lost in the fantasy of how good Dean looks when Cas is fucking him, and Dean has no hope of keeping himself under control when Cas is this into it too.
“Love watching you come. Love feeling it when I’m inside you,” Cas practically growls, diving in for a kiss that’s deeper and more aggressive than anything so far, but still a far cry from what Cas is capable of. “You’re so beautiful when you let go, so amazingly gorgeous when you succumb to pleasure. I’ll never get tired of it.”
Dean’s losing it, his unattended arousal blooming into something he could actually get off on if he had enough stimulation. He wouldn’t need much, but Cas doesn’t even allow any give for Dean to roll his hips up and seek out some relief. He tries to grind into the heat and pressure of Cas’s solid form between his legs, his thighs tensing, squeezing to get any kind of friction, and he manages to work up a rhythm that actually gets him right on the brink, embarrassingly close considering he’s fully clothed and barely been touched.
“And then I’ll bring my hand to your mouth, watch you lick the come from my fingers.” Even Cas sounds breathless now, touching Dean’s lips, looking almost dazed.
All at once, the heat in Dean’s belly coils tight. “Cas,” he says warningly, right on the precipice just from Cas talking to him, Christ.
Cas’s eyes flicker in recognition but he forges on. “I can’t last long after that. The sight alone is enough to push me over the edge. Coming inside of you is the most incredible feeling—driving into you deep, you accepting me, trusting me with your body. It’s indescribable. And you love it,” he whispers, catching Dean’s gaze and holding it, unwavering. “Don’t you.”
“Cas,” Dean gasps. “Gonna—” But he’s gone before he can even get the words out, climax rushing over him sudden and sharp.
Cas finally allows Dean more room to thrust into it, his fingers digging into Dean’s thigh, letting him ride it out. He kisses Dean’s forehead, his temple, still absurdly gentle as Dean moans and shakes and pants against Cas’s shoulder.
Cas gives him a moment to recover before pulling back and observing him with a lopsided smile, calm as a damn cucumber and definitely looking a little smug. “We were only kissing.”
“You asshole,” Dean says with a laugh, shoving Cas away. His face is burning, but he can’t even bring himself to feel awkward about it. It’s so good to feel wanted. And Cas has a hell of a knack for making him feel that way.
Dean urges Cas onto his back on the opposite end of the sofa, legs splayed so he can slither between them. He massages the thick muscles in Cas’s thighs, eyeing the erection straining against the fabric of Cas’s pants. “Keep going,” Dean murmurs, fingers curling beneath Cas’s waistband and inching it down. He leans up to give Cas a teasing peck on the lips. “Tell me more about how much you love my mouth,” he says before working his way back down the couch. He wants to see exactly how much filthy detail he can coax out of Cas.
Cas smiles wider, threads his fingers in Dean’s hair, and starts talking.