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Dean feels untethered.
He is lying on a bed in a motel room that looks like a thousand he's seen before, in a town that looks like a million he's seen before. Sam is out on a run on some hiking trail nearby, so Dean knows he has at least an hour to himself, and he's using it for pleasure. Specifically, he's got his pants off and his hand on his dick, with an issue of Busty Asian Beauties open and ignored somewhere near his hip.
He's thinking of the first time he met Cas - the terrifying angel that supposedly pulled him out of Hell. Dean strokes his cock, thinking about how scared and aroused he was by the angel’s dangerous presence as he first appeared - wings out and like he owned the very air Dean was breathing.
If he wasn't actively avoiding thinking of Bobby in this moment, he'd be musing over how the only reason Dean didn't drop to his knees then and there was because his father figure was looking on in horror.
Dean whimpers as he takes his hand off himself, too close already, and he wants to make this last. It's been a while since he's had time to himself since he got back from down under, and he's going to make the best of it. He thinks about how safe and scared he felt looking into the electric blue eyes of the celestial being that saved him from his own stupid decisions. Part of Dean wants to kill him, but the other part, the part he keeps hidden from the world, wants to give himself over to be cherished - worshiped.
He takes up jacking himself again even as he thinks how stupid he is - of course a being as powerful as Castiel wouldn't want anything to do with a drowned sewer rat like him; the only reason he was rescued was because he had some greater role to play in the apocalypse. Dean can't stop thinking about what Cas would do to him if given the chance. Would he be cold and uncaring, only seeking his own pleasure? Would he be reverent and gentle?
These thoughts skyrocket Dean's pleasure, and he eventually devolves into only being able to chant Cas’ name in his head as he careens towards the edge of orgasm.
That's when he hears the wings.
Dean only barely manages to stop the hand on his dick and doesn't quite get to hiding himself away from the powerful being now staring down at him in his ill-fitting suit and trench coat. Dean has the errant thought that his plush lips look even better in person just before his mouth finally catches up with the situation.
“What the hell, man?” Dean finally manages to grab the extra pillow on his bed and cover his lap.
Castiel, Angel of the Lord, looks down at him with a head tilt that kind of reminds Dean of a golden retriever as much as it reminds him of “you don't think you deserve to be saved.” The thought punches Dean in the gut, and he realizes just how fucked this situation is.
“You were pleasuring yourself while you prayed,” Cas says bluntly.
“I, what? I wasn't praying! And it's very human!” Dean yells, the anger bubbling up inside of him to smooth over the embarrassment.
“Were you thinking of me sexually?” Cas asks, full of curiosity and low on judgement.
“What? No! It was… I just…” For once, Dean’s words and his easy charm escape him; he doesn't know how to bravado his way out of this situation. Maybe he doesn't want to.
“So you would not like me to touch you intimately?” Cas asks like he knows the answer.
“Uh, what?” Dean registers that his dick is a traitor and hasn't softened even though this would be a great time for him to show off how Cas being here killed the mood instead of adding to it.
Cas doesn't answer immediately; he slowly moves closer to the bed, like he's approaching a skittish animal - because he is. He gets a fistfulof the pillow Dean is clutching over his lap and tugs it away with a force Dean wasn't expecting given the slow movements.
“I'm curious about sexual pleasures of humans. Allow me to pleasure you.” Cas doesn't ask, and Dean is grateful for that.
If Cas had asked, Dean would have had to protest, stand up and run away to the other side of the room, and hiss and spit about boundaries and think about how inhuman Cas is. Instead, Dean lies there, dumbfounded, as Cas reaches forward with his giant palm and deliciously long fingers to wrap around Dean’s still weeping cock.
“Show me,” Cas orders as he holds Dean's gaze with his own; he doesn't have human shame about this, he has curiosity and a longing in his stomach he can't name.
The more Dean thinks about how he should stop this, the more he doesn't want to, so he just brings his hand up to curl around the angel's on his cock. Angel. Dean thinks with wonder as Cas drops a knee to the bed to be closer to Dean.
Cas has witnessed humans taking pleasure in each other before; he knows in a general sense where his body should be, just not what it should be doing. He's relieved when Dean begins to guide his hand up and down his shaft, squeezing harder than he would have dared to himself. Cas can practically taste the way the pleasure ratchets up inside Dean and finds it delectable and addicting. He reaches his face towards Dean; he knows that's the general vicinity he should be in currently and ends up with his forehead pressed to the righteous man he rescued from Hell.
Dean lets out a moan because one of the most dangerous creatures he's ever come across is learning quickly how to work his cock over with his hand and holding their foreheads together like he's something precious - something worth saving.
“You are beautiful like this,” Cas remarks honestly as he looks into Dean's eyes because he doesn't know he should have closed them.
Dean does know he should have closed his, but he can't stop himself, having Cas so close, looking right through him, as the angel jerks his cock and shatters something inside him. If an angel can look at him like this, then maybe he is worth something.
“I'm gonna…” Dean grits out an embarrassingly short time later.
“You are allowed to orgasm,” Cas says because he doesn't know the exact terminology.
It's the “allowed” in Cas' sentence that sends Dean over the edge with a groan he's sure the people in the next room can hear. Fuck, the idea that there's an instance where Cas wouldn't “allow” him to orgasm is too much for him to process right now. Dean comes all over their hands and wrists before stopping his have to keep Cas from tipping the overstimulation into pain.
“You enjoyed that,” Cas observes.
Dean lets out a breathy laugh.
“Uh, yeah, orgasms are kinda like that,” Dean snarks, even as he has to fight to catch his breath with his eyes closed. When did he close them?
“I have never experienced an orgasm,” Cas explains. He doesn't remove his hand from Dean or move his face away; he isn't totally sure what he should be doing; he just has a notion that he doesn't want to back away just yet.
Dean thinks about that for a moment - it seems kind of rude to get the best handjob of his life and leave the being that saved him from Hell hanging without ever knowing the head rush of an orgasm - it probably wouldn't even be difficult if he's not used to it, right?
“Take your pants off,” Dean orders before he can stop himself. He reaches over to snatch a couple tissues he pulled from the box affixed to the bathroom sink earlier and hands one to Cas while he uses another to wipe his hand, then pelvis without looking down, because that would mean looking away from Cas.
Cas pulls back and looks down at the tissue in his hand. Before he fully registers what it's for, he's too busy thinking about Dean's hands on him and worrying why the thought brings him so much pleasure. He isn't used to being locked into an earthly body, his vessel feeling foreign and providing sensations and urges he has never had to consider before. He doesn't have to consider them now, not really; he could ignore the arousal causing a physiological reaction in his vessel's penis, but he finds that he doesn't want to. Cas cleans his hand the best he can with the tissue provided and goes about taking his pants off as instructed.
A thrill shoots through Dean as he realizes his order is being followed - he's about to jerk off an angel - and he's pretty sure that's frowned upon, but he can't bring himself to care right now, especially once Cas bares himself to Dean. Dean looks Cas up and down, fully clothed, aside from where he's got his cock and balls pulled out over his white boxers, through the open zipper of his slacks.
Dean had planned to use his hand, had planned to do no more for Cas than he'd done for him, but something about the image, about him being so buttoned up and lewd, has Dean leaning in to nuzzle his face into Cas’s hard cock. It's just easier this way; there will be less mess to clean up at the end - it's pragmatic. Dean almost believes himself until the whimper Cas makes cascades through his whole body, and he realizes how much he actually wants to do this.
“Dean…” Cas starts, confused, but is cut off by his own moan when Dean wraps his lips around the crown of his vessel's… cock. Cas thinks that's the right word in this situation. He's helpless to bring his hands up to touch Dean's head and shoulders as Dean begins to work more of him in his mouth, pull back, then dive back in for more as the man holds on to his thighs like a lifeline.
This isn't the first time Dean has had a dick in his mouth; he knows nobody would guess with the way he picks up women, and he likes it that way, but he does know what to do. He does enjoy it - immensely. He's always had a bit of an oral fixation, and the warm, soft skin of Cas' cock sliding across his tongue scratches something in his brain he'll never be able to explain. He's used to men being quiet, scared of their own desires, but Cas seems to have no need for any of that - he is making pleasured noises that make Dean shiver.
“Dean,” Cas pleads. He doesn't know what he's asking for, really; he just trusts Dean to give it to him. He can feel something building within himself, something bright and pleasurable that threatens to pull him apart, and he's as scared of it as he is curious.
Dean hums, certain he knows what Cas needs, and maintains his rhythm and refocuses his effort on tonguing the sensitive underside of Cas’ head when he gets the chance. Part of him wishes Cas would hold his head and fuck his throat, take what he wants from Dean, but another part of him delights in the way Cas seems to be clinging to him like a lifeline - like his orgasm might change him, and he knows it.
Cas tips over the edge and involuntarily thrusts his hips forward as Dean works him over. Cas worries he shouldn't have done that until he hears the pleasured groan Dean lets out just before he swallows down Cas’ spend. If Cas could think of anything but the overwhelming pleasure, he would think about how next time, if there is a next time, he'll be more prepared, but right now all he can do is pant his way through the aftershocks even though he doesn't technically need the air.
Dean pulls off when Cas makes a noise that sounds overwhelmed instead of pleasurable and looks up at his Angel.
Cas reaches forward and cups Dean's face in a wide palm, stroking his thumb across Dean's cheek.
“Thank you,” Cas whispers wholeheartedly.
“Anytime.” Dean cockily grins even though he really means it.
“Sam will be here soon. I will come to you at a later date,” Cas tells Dean, and then he's gone.
Dean feels bereft, but when he hears Sam’s footsteps outside, he dashes into the bathroom and turns on the shower. He looks at himself in the mirror and finds that he looks fucked out and satisfied - just like he feels.
He can't wait until round two.