dean's reaction to praise kink the first time cas (presumably semi-unintentionally) enacts it on him??? awkward? blushing? weird macho denial that it affects him? DO TELL, MY FRIEND
He isn’t trying, the first time. He’s not thinking much at all about what he’s saying. It’s hard to think with Dean’s mouth on him, Dean kneeling between his legs while Castiel tries not to fall back onto the bed with the sheer overwhelming pleasure of it, holds himself up with trembling arms because he wants to see this. He wants to watch every second: Dean’s closed eyes fluttering and sweat trickling down his shoulders as he pushes his mouth lower, a little at a time, sucks gently and swirls his tongue around Castiel’s cock and clutches at Castiel’s thigh to keep his balance.
He’s working at it, absolutely and single-mindedly devoted to making Castiel feel this good, and his soft, happy noises are proof enough how much he wants to do it, even if Castiel hadn’t seen how hard he’d gotten just from sinking down and licking his lips a few times, hadn’t seen the shudder that ran all through him when he first nuzzled his soft, barely-open lips against the head and breathed in deep, hadn’t noticed the way his cock had stirred and swelled and strained against his stomach. Dean is so happy to do this, he’s so good, and Castiel barely has the presence of mind to notice he’s saying anything at all, much less say anything in particular on purpose. But when he murmurs that out loud, sliding one trembling hand lightly into Dean’s hair–feels so good, oh, oh you’re so good–
From the way Dean stiffens all over, at first Castiel thinks he’s done something wrong. He yanks his hand back with just a sliver of fear, tries to remember what he said, if there’s something he’s forgotten, another broken shard between them like all the others that kept them apart for so long and still trip them up, sometimes, now that they’ve finally started to be–this. Together. To do this, and he says, carefully, “Dean?”
Dean shivers again, less intensely, and looks up at him, flashes a shaky grin. “It’s fine,” he says. “You didn’t…I’m not…it’s fine.”
He’s shifting awkwardly on his knees, and he keeps glancing back down like it’s hard for him to meet Castiel’s eyes, but his voice is–well, a little hoarse, but steady, mostly. And honest. Castiel can tell by now; they can both tell. They know each other.
He knows Dean. And–well. This isn’t a surprise.
“Okay,” he says, and runs his fingers through Dean’s hair again, resting his palm around the curve of his skull. Dean pushes back into the touch, just a little, and lets out a small relieved sigh, before his eyes flutter closed again as he leans forward again, opening his mouth to let Castiel inside him, wet heat and sweetness wrapping around him. Dean pushes himself further, further, cheeks hollowing a little, and a wave of sheer affection washes over Castiel, almost violent in its intensity; he can’t not speak.
“So good,” he says again, and doesn’t stop when Dean whimpers around his cock. “You’re so good for me–trying so hard, you are, aren’t you–” He slides his palm down to curve around the back of Dean’s neck, not pushing, just holding him, and the choked desperate moan that gets him is almost too much; he has to bite his lip hard before continuing but he does, because Dean likes this, Dean loves this, and Castiel knows with absolute certainty that Dean would never, ever have asked him for it.
“I love the way you look like this,” he says, hearing the tremble in his own voice, “when you close your eyes and–work, you’re not even touching yourself–”
Dean’s grip on his thigh tightens and he starts to rock back and forth on his knees, just a little, just his hips moving restlessly as a red stain spills down his face, throat, chest.
Castiel doesn’t have long now, but he never wants to stop, not just the feeling of Dean’s mouth slick and tight and working at him but the feeling of doing this to Dean. What he can do to Dean with just words, just the truth, just what he couldn’t stop himself from saying anyway, not even if he tried. “So good,” he pants, reduced now, and Dean is shaking and Castiel manages to say it again, again, “so good,” he says, “love you, oh–” and then he’s coming, and words aren’t an option anymore.
The sensation of Dean swallowing around him tugs another shapeless groan from Castiel’s mouth, and though it can’t be more than a few more seconds, the rest of his orgasm seems to last for a long time. He keeps his eyes fixed on Dean, who swallows and pulls back a little and struggles to catch all of what Castiel gives him, to take everything perfectly, licking at his lips as he finally pulls off with a sloppy wet noise.
Almost instantly he’s pressing his forehead against Castiel’s stomach, shaking hard. Not moaning, now; Castiel can hear the bitten-back sounds trapped in his throat and even though he can barely move yet it’s simply necessary to lean forward and wrap both arms around Dean and tug him up awkwardly until Castiel can hold him, lie back and let Dean pant against his throat and thrust against Castiel’s hip once–twice, a third time is all it takes before he’s coming with a wet half-sobbing gasp, the sudden heat spilling between them.
He doesn’t move for a minute, except to shift a little and slot them together more comfortably. Castiel lets them lie in silence, holds on tight. Listens to Dean’s breath slow along with his heartbeat.
When both are almost back to normal Dean tenses for a second, then surges up and kisses him hard–or, not hard, precisely, but–fierce. Wild. “Cas,” he says, barely above a whisper, “fuck, Cas…”
“You’re perfect,” Castiel tells him, and lets Dean kiss the words off his lips. He has plenty more where they came from.
