Cas knows it’s wrong to be on his hands and knees for anyone but God, but then again, Dean Winchester had a way of making wrong things feel so incredibly right. And when those long, merciless fingers that have loaded weapons and cleaned wounds latch onto the base of his wings, the world feels right in a way that it never has before.
Hips canting and moans dropping from his spit-slick lips, Cas presses back against Dean, feeling the hot length in him slide deeper, pulsing. The sweat-damp sheets will not survive his clenched fingers, but Cas cannot bring himself to care as those merciless fingers work at his feathers with relish. Dean doesn’t even need to thrust, doesn’t want to, not when he can grab wings of grace and shadow and feathers and pull. Cas is only too happy to help him out, hips shoving impatiently against Dean’s groin, wings fluttering as much as they can, ensnared in that iron grip as they are. His toes are curling into the mattress and he’s shaking, elbows threatening to drop him. For all his angelic strength, he cannot withstand the way Dean holds him in place and cruelly grinds the thick head of his leaking cock against Cas’ prostate.
A high, long keen forms in his throat, slowing pushing out even as Dean slides back, just to be punched out of him as Dean slams back in without warning or care. Finally, finally, Cas’ arms give out on him, sending him face-first into the mattress. The smell of sex and Dean and sweat assaults him, and he greedily holds his breath as Dean pistons in and out of him without mercy.
One clever hand slips from his feathers and between his stomach and his thighs, gripping Cas’ neglected cock and jerking it in time with Dean’s thrusts. With every thrust (between Dean’s hand and hips, he will not last much longer), Cas lets loose a whimper. The hand still on his wing slides up to fist in Cas’ hair, forcing his face deeper into the sheets, muffling the noises. But when fingers toy with the head of his cock, Cas breaks, his come spurting almost violently onto the bed, rump collapsing and dragging Dean with him so that Dean lies on top of him. His entire body is clenching with the force of his orgasm, and he can feel and hear Dean cursing as he topples into orgasm too. Cas squeezes his eyes shut, trembling as he feels the liquid warmth ooze within him.
He reopens them some time later when warm, open kisses at the bases of his wings rouse him. Dean is lying on his side next to Cas, fingers gently tweaking wayward feathers back into place even as he kisses away the rapidly fading lovebites peppering Cas’ back.
“I hate you,” Cas informs Dean tiredly, twisting his neck slightly to glare at Dean from the corner of his eye. Dean grins, hearing just the opposite.
WRITTEN BY THE WONDERFUL “REXBUTT”
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