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The shot rings out, the sound bouncing painfully against the metal walls of the mostly empty factory building. The man who Dean was wrestling with up on the catwalk overlooking the vats of ominous black liquid grunts as Sam’s bullet hits him square in the shoulder.
He staggers away from Dean, who pulls desperately to fight off the man’s iron grip.
“Bastard!” Dean roars when the man’s stumbling steps pull them closer to the edge of the catwalk. He strikes up with the heel of his hand, clocking the man under his chin, forcing his head back with a sickening crunch, but it apparently does nothing to make sure the man lets go of Dean’s arm.
Sam shouts Dean’s name and Castiel’s human heart leaps into his throat, choking him, as they watch Dean and the man tumble over the edge and toward the vat beneath them.
Those vats are filled with tiny worms, black and with bodies lined with razor sharp incisors that they use to get under an unsuspecting host’s skin. They bury deep, worm their way into the host’s mind, and corrupt them so that the man and his witch associates can puppeteer the humans and animals they manage to infect, like their own army. Dean had called them Jefferson Starships 2.0 and seemed very proud of that name even though Sam had scoffed.
Castiel doesn’t know what to call them since they seem completely new, possibly engineered by the man for the benefit of his witch lover who currently lies dead by Castiel’s feet.
Sam starts running the second Dean goes over the weak railing but Castiel is far quicker. Aided by his angel grace and massive wings, he’s up there in the next second, grabbing Dean by his flailing hand and pulling him up again just as the man disappears into the mass of frothing worms with a shriek. Unfortunately, Dean’s back touched the writhing worms before Castiel saved him and he shakes off his jacket in panic.
“Get them off!”
Castiel grimaces and helps Dean best he can, swatting away the few worms that stuck to the fabric. Thankfully it doesn’t seem they had time to break through it and Castiel does a quick sweep with his grace only to find Dean satisfactorily worm-free.
“You’re okay,” he says calmly as they kneel on the catwalk, next to the railing, Dean twisting and turning.
“No, are you sure?” he tries looking over his shoulder at his back just as Sam comes up, rushing over to them. “They didn’t get inside?”
“They didn’t.”
Sam stops behind Castiel’s back, huffing. “You okay?”
“No, I’m not fucking okay!” Dean shouts, waving a hand at his jacket where one worm is still wriggling, trying to find flesh to destroy. “I was almost worm dinner.”
Sam and Castiel share a look.
“He’s okay,” Castiel says solemnly, starting to rise when Dean stops him by grabbing the lapel on his trench coat.
“Hey,” he looks so earnestly frightened Castiel’s grace sings. He hates to see Dean scared for his life but he also loves seeing all the emotions Dean usually keep locked up tight on bright display. “Are you sure? I can’t be like, pretend-okay and then a worm eats up my brain and I turn on you and Sammy in the middle of the night.”
Castiel smiles benevolently. As if Castiel’s grace would allow a sneak attack by a mere human, boosted by these worms or not.
“Maybe you could look?” Sam suggests, going over to punt the lone worm back into the vat, saving Dean’s jacket from further damage. “You know,” he adds when Dean looks up at him as if he doesn’t understand. “Really look.”
Sam is lucky Castiel has gotten better at understanding humans, or at least these two.
“Ah, yes,” he says, although he knows it’s completely unnecessary. His grace has already told him all he needs to know. But if it helps calm Dean down then Castiel is prepared to do whatever it takes. “Sit still.”
“Look how?” Dean asks dubiously, although he obeys Castiel’s command. A fact that makes Castiel very happy for some reason he has yet to pinpoint. “Sam?”
“He’s kinda got x-ray vision, doesn’t he?” Sam says, waving at Castiel, who ignores both brothers as he starts concentrating to look past Dean’s clothes and the outer layers of his skin, all the way into his insides. Not as far as his soul, although it envelops his grace, reaching for him as soon as he enters.
Castiel smiles to himself, listening to the brothers bantering in the background as he searches through Dean’s intestines for signs of a worm entering him. They’d mostly hit his back, between his shoulder blades, so he starts looking at Dean’s stomach and moves slowly up.
As expected, everything looks good, although he takes a moment to stop by Dean’s liver, letting his grace cleanse his hunter, flushing clean arteries and getting lost in the mesmerizing intricacies of Dean’s bronchioles. Satisfied, he aims to move up when his grace sticks on something on the outer layer of Dean’s chest. Something unexpected, a possible anomaly.
Frowning, Castiel pulls his vision back, past pumping veins and skin. It’s not a worm that he’s seeing but it’s something neither he nor his grace expected.
“What?” Dean asks nervously. “D’you see somethin’? Did one sneak past your grace?”
Sam stops by Castiel’s right shoulder but Castiel ignores him, instead focusing on what he’s seeing, his mind drawing a blank for a moment.
It’s a piece of cloth, black and tight, spanning Dean’s chest. It’s under his shirt, hidden and secret. Made up of lace in a pretty pattern, straps holding it in place by wrapping over Dean’s shoulders.
A bra. Bralette? Women’s lingerie. On Dean.
Castiel chokes down surprised arousal so strong his grace has to rush to help him alleviate the heat so that he can keep his composure.
He distantly registers the brothers asking him what he’s seeing and he can sense Dean’s heart rate picking up. His grace makes another sweep to make sure Dean is clean and healed, and then he stands up with a straight face.
“You’re fine, I was simply making absolutely sure.”
Dean breathes out, head hanging as he leans his arms on his bent knees, clearly relieved.
“That’s great,” Sam says with a smile that Castiel barely registers even though he looks right at the younger Winchester.
“Yes,” he says, only a little mechanically. “Although I would prefer if we got away from here as soon as possible.”
Sam nods. “What about the vats?”
“Burn ‘em,” Dean grunts, getting up. “Let’s burn this whole damn place to the ground.”
It would work and Sam agrees. They’re out in the boondocks, as the brothers call it, and it’s in the middle of night. No other building is close enough to take damage and there are no other people around. And they still have more witches to hunt, associates of the man and his lover, so to burn this place down and be done with it seems the simplest solution.
It takes them some time, though, and most of Dean and Sam’s resources but as they’re driving away the factory building is more than on its way to becoming a burnt out husk of its former self. The flames from the fire are satisfactorily big, reaching for the dark night sky and waving them goodbye.
“It would almost be pretty,” Sam comments, watching it in the rearview window. “If it wasn’t so horrible.”
“Yeah,” Dean snorts, flicking on the radio. “Damn beauty if I ever saw one.”
Watching the back of Dean’s head, Castiel can do nothing but silently agree.
*****
The second time Dean and Sam call on Castiel for help is a few days later and Sam seems remorseful as if they’re bothering him. Castiel doesn’t mind, vastly preferring to spend time with the Winchester brothers over dealing with Metatron and his crass tirades. Castiel understands that what he and Metatron are trying to accomplish is important but that doesn’t mean he has to like the other angel’s company. And he doesn’t.
In fact, he has been especially curt with the Scribe these last few days but if Castiel is being honest, that mostly stems from the discovery he made while on the last hunt with Sam and Dean. Questions have occupied his mind day and night and he has had to contemplate whether to feel ashamed about his physical reactions or not. So far he’s leaning towards not, since Dean probably likes wearing whatever that was. That in turn should mean that Castiel could logically also be allowed to like seeing the hunter in clothes like that.
The main question is rather regarding what he actually saw. Was it a bralette? Maybe it was some kind of new holster for concealed weapons? Maybe he was simply mistaken since Castiel isn’t exactly well-versed in any human clothes, especially of the current female variety. Nothing wrong with them, he simply doesn’t see a need for him to acquaint himself with it since his vessel for the foreseeable future will remain male. But then Dean’s appearance in typically female garments opened several doors.
So men can wear it too? Of course, Castiel thinks as he walks together with Dean and Sam, approaching an alley hidden off a bigger road in a medium-sized Ohio town. When he thinks about it, he doesn’t see a reason any garment should be restricted by gender. Sure, a few probably serve more purpose for some than for others and would be deemed unnecessary by those others and Castiel would have thought a bra would be an example of that.
If a person doesn’t have a bosom, Castiel reasons they wouldn’t see a need for any kind of brassiere. Except pleasure. Except them simply wanting to wear one. For fun or for some deliciously dark and desirable reason.
And that’s what Castiel’s biggest questions are about. Why is Dean wearing it and for who? Is it simply because it’s comfortable or does he derive some kind of pleasure from it? Is it about psychological comfort or physical? Does he share this secret with others? Do they derive pleasure from seeing him like that? Why does Castiel feel inexplicit jealousy at the thought of other humans being allowed to see Dean in women’s lingerie? And does he have more? Does he wear panties too and does he have other colors?
Yes, he thinks as they stop outside a door while the brothers confer with each other, it’s no damn wonder he has been short with Metatron and unable to focus on his important tasks. Not when Dean takes up more of his attention than usual.
“Better you stay here with Cas, then,” Sam suggests and Castiel does his best to focus on the conversation. “And I’ll see if I can enter from up there.”
They all look up at an open window. The building itself is fairly non-descript. Just another among others on the street, the front boasting an electronics store of some kind that’s closed this time of night. But behind it, beneath it, Dean and Sam have figured out a werewolf den is spread out and though there are wards that hinder him from entering without them being destroyed first, Castiel can sense some twenty individuals moving around or sleeping. Twenty or one doesn’t matter to him. Once inside he knows he’ll make quick work of the werewolves, although he suspects both Dean and Sam will want in on the action. They tend to like putting themselves in danger, Castiel has found.
“I don’t like it,” Dean grouses. “But fine.”
“I’ll be quick, get the door open for you.”
Mostly meaning Castiel and he nods in appreciation. It will be fine, he reasons as he and Dean watch Sam scurry up the escape ladder. Sam is a capable hunter, equipped with silver bullets, and Castiel can heal any injury he might sustain.
Dean is more anxious, although it’s his soul that tells Castiel that and not the hardened hunter himself. Castiel smiles kindly, nodding as Sam disappears quietly through the window.
“He is going to be okay.”
“I know that,” Dean snaps, although his soul ripples uncomfortably. “C’mon, let’s get ready.”
With that, he pulls out his beloved gun and stands at the ready by the door, eyes and mind focused on the task at hand. Castiel shakes out his angel blade and joins him, standing off Dean’s back so that he has space to move in case of an attack. A moment passes in silence and then Castiel’s curiosity gets the better of him and he allows his grace to enhance his vision once more.
And what he sees immediately surprises him and pulls his attention away from the hunt.
Because today Dean isn’t wearing a simple black bralette. Today he is in something much more intricate and lovely. Over his chest, covering his nipples, is again a dainty bra, this time pink and barely held up by slim strings that tie together on his back. This bra is by far smaller and more delicate and Castiel can feel himself heating up from inside at the sight of Dean in something so sweet.
Greedy for more, Castiel lets his eyes sweep up and down Dean’s whole body, delighted at what he sees. Instead of common boxer shorts like what Castiel has dressed his vessel in, he sees equally dainty panties, these too in pink and tied with string, little bows adorning Dean’s hips. The panties themselves are clearly lace, like the bra, and though the small piece of cloth triangle does a formidable job, it barely covers Dean’s genitals. That fact alone is making Castiel feel so flustered his grace completely loses focus on the werewolves and instead rushes to cool him down.
He can feel himself reacting in a way he never really has before, not even that time when Dean brought him to that strip club or he watched the pizza man spank the babysitter. But this time he’s definitely reacting hard, pulse picking up and dick filling out, only to be stopped when his grace rushes to quell his mounting desires.
And then he looks even lower and sees that Dean has also opted to dress in pink fishnet stockings. They wrap sensually around his bowed legs and no doubt feel fantastic against his skin. Or any skin. Like Castiel’s hand or erect dick.
His grace flares, his massive wings twitch, and he coughs unexpectedly, turning away just as Dean sneaks a look at him.
“You okay?” he murmurs, attention clearly still mostly on the door and the den of monsters where his little brother is sneaking around. “Sense something?”
“Yes,” Castiel clears his throat. “Sam is close.”
It’s not a lie but it’s not completely true either. Abandoning his adoration of Dean’s visage, he lets his grace seek out the younger Winchester’s soul and finds him satisfactorily close to removing the worst ward, but sadly not very close to the door. He’s at least still alone.
“Did Sam do something to the wards?” Dean guesses with scary accuracy. “Did it hurt you?”
“No,” Castiel almost scoffs. “I’m fine.”
He’s not, even though he nods when Dean does so. He’s far from fine. He’s distracted by searing hot desires and rampant arousal and by God, the amount of questions has only grown now.
He’ll conclude this hunt and maybe stick around for a moment, he reasons. Observe Dean a little while longer and then he’ll act, one way or another.
*****
Annoyingly Metatron and the Heavenly host pull Castiel away from Dean and Sam for a while after their successful clearing of the werewolf den but Castiel tries to take a moment here and there to go and check on the brothers while invisible. Simply to make sure they are doing well. And maybe to look at Dean.
Definitely to look at Dean.
Castiel delights in finding that the hunter seems to have a variety of underwear, ranging from tame and standard to raunchy and absolutely marvelous. He has different colors, more or less revealing styles, and while he seems to favor panties and some kind of bra, he does have more stockings too. He doesn’t always wear something special, sadly sometimes going in traditionally more male underwear, but Castiel will glimpse the pastel colored lingerie more often than not. This becomes especially true after the brothers have been introduced to the Men of Letters bunker, where Dean finally seems to feel safe enough to express himself. Castiel likes the bunker well enough, since it provides a safe haven and both Sam and Dean are childishly adorable as they show him around, but Castiel mostly likes it for how Dean’s soul seems to relax within the stoney walls. And because the fact that Dean gets a room of his own seems to increase his stock of lingerie.
Spending more time with them in the bunker is a happy occurrence twofold. Because Castiel likes to be in the brothers’ company, and because it provides him ample opportunities to look at Dean.
The more he sees, however, the more distracted Castiel feels and a need starts building inside him. A need to see more, to experience it more clearly, without Dean’s many layers of clothes in the way. And to touch. Yes, the urge to touch is becoming the most prevalent and once Castiel finds a quiet place to imagine Dean naked save those lovely little pieces of clothing, to imagine touching him like that and feeling the material contrasting with Dean’s heated skin, there is really no holding back. His grace does its best but Castiel doesn’t want to fight his reactions to the scenarios running rampant in his mind. At least not when he’s all alone.
Sitting hidden high up on a mountain in East Asia, he lets a shudder of pleasure wrack his body, his big wings rustling behind his back as he allows his grace to relax and arousal rushes through him instead. Heart pumping, he feels his dick harden and a sweet ache throb inside him, pushed out on waves from his groin that make his whole body feel soft and weak.
It’s a wonderful feeling and he smiles to himself, bending his head back and letting the sun shine on his face as he sits there with his eyes closed, simply experiencing the high of arousal as he imagines Dean being here with him. It would almost be serene, this moment, if it wasn’t for the near insane amount of urgency that pumps through him, carried by the insistent rolling pleasure. It’s all highly arousing but also testing his patience in many ways.
He can feel his hands trembling, his wings ruffling restlessly, and there’s a twitch in his thigh muscle. He’s squirming. He never squirms. But oh, his whole body, this wonderful vessel built for only him by God, is urging him to do something. Urging him to touch himself. Sucking in a breath, he obliges and cups his hard dick over his pants. The touch is lighter than what his needs demand but it still feels incredible. It relieves some pressure, however briefly, and new pleasure ripples throughout him, amplified by the way his grace delights at this change in his system.
Yes, it’s abundantly clear that it’s much more preferable to give in to pleasure than try to suppress it, although he is grateful for his ability to hide it when needed. That being said, he is grateful that he doesn’t need to suppress his desires right at this moment.
In fact, as he sits there tracing the outline of his dick through the dress pants he always wears, he starts wondering if he could stop now even if he needed to. Simply the thought of pulling his hand away seems to increase his need and pleasure rises inside him, making his whole body feel like it pulsates and swells. His back arches slightly, chest puffing out, and he grits his teeth against a small groan that bubbles up unexpectedly.
Instead of instinctively coming to his aid, his grace seems to encourage the bodily reactions and it feels as if stars explode before his closed eyes. But he stubbornly holds on, trying to ride the wave of pleasure but at the same time clenching every muscle he has against the seemingly inevitable release.
It feels glorious, being caught at the edge, trapping himself there, and as soon as the moment passes he breathes out unexpectedly shakily, opening his eyes to smile up at the azure sky above him. His dick is still a hard line in his pants, his body is still throbbing, arousal still making him tingle pleasantly, but all of it has abated some and he feels clear-minded and focused.
It’s obvious to him now what he wants and he feels bold going after it, only hoping Dean will accept Castiel’s desires and perhaps feel empowered by the effect he clearly has on Castiel’s whole being, vessel and grace and all.
*****
As it turns out, Dean’s birthday provides an excellent opportunity for Castiel to move forward. Coincidentally, Sam is away with Kevin researching the next task for closing the gates of hell. Or, if Castiel is being completely honest, he thinks that is just a cover because Kevin started going a little stir crazy being holed up on Garth’s boat and Sam wanted to take pity on him. So maybe they are doing a little research and a lot of what Dean calls R&R. In any case the plan had been for them to be back by now but an unexpected snowstorm has trapped them in a motel room up in the Rockies.
“I’m really sorry we’re missing your birthday,” Sam says remorsefully but Dean only shakes his head even though Sam can’t see him as he sits with Castiel in the bunker’s kitchen, the two of them talking to Sam and Kevin on speaker phone.
“It’s fine, Sammy,” he says, raising a beer bottle. “I have beer and Cas brought pizza,” he winks at Cas who feels a thrill go through him. He has always enjoyed Dean’s gaze on him but yes, that too has changed lately.
“Aw, Cas is there?” Kevin’s voice comes trailing from somewhere behind Sam. “Hi Castiel!”
“Hello, Kevin,” Castiel answers, sharing a smile with Dean.
“How many beers have you had, Kev?” Dean asks cheekily before emptying his third.
“None!”
“Two,” Sam says indulgently. “We’re relaxing while the storm rages. Literally.”
“You know I can always come and get you,” Castiel suggests, feeling his grace try to reach out to the younger Winchester brother’s soul even across the distance.
“No it’s okay,” Sam says, his tone tinged with affection. “We still have some things to check out.”
Kevin still needs to relax some more, Castiel understands and feels proud of himself for how he has learned the brother’s mannerisms over the years. A fact that only makes the recent discovery about Dean even more enticing.
They chat some more with Sam and Kevin, Sam and Dean doing most of the talking, and when they hang up Dean has finished the pizza Castiel brought him and started in on his fourth beer. He seems buzzed but pleasantly so, perhaps absolutely perfectly levelled and calm for Castiel’s plan to work.
He knows Dean is tightly wound, that he guards his heart very carefully, and that his emotional walls are high and thick, but even so Castiel is more excited by a positive outcome than he is nervous about a negative one.
“I didn’t just bring food,” he says when Dean leans back, looking content. “I did remember that it’s your birthday and that those come with certain human conventions.”
Dean frowns but remains seated when Castiel goes to fetch the small, unassuming paper bag he’d put just inside the kitchen door. The content, wrapped in silk paper, rustles as he picks it up and he feels his grace ripple with delight.
“You bought me a birthday gift?” Dean laughs, accepting the bag when Castiel puts it on the table, pushing it towards Dean. “You didn’t have to.”
Castiel knows he didn’t. They have never exchanged gifts before, things like birthdays or Christmas often passing by forgotten amidst hunts and world threats. And to be frank, Dean’s birthday is just a coincidence that provides a convenient excuse. Castiel knows he would have gotten Dean something as soon as an opportunity presented itself, conventional occasion or not. But he’s not about to admit all that.
“I hope you’ll like it,” he says instead, watching with outward calm while the now familiar tendrils of arousal start worming their way through his core. “I picked it out very carefully.”
Dean looks both surprised and intrigued, a combination that makes him appear young and sweet. The look makes Castiel’s grace reach out for Dean’s soul, which eagerly opens up despite how Dean’s brow furrows as he pulls out Castiel’s gift, holding it out in front of him.
The negligée is made of a sheer, blue fabric that flows down from a satin band that goes around the chest right under the lace bra that holds it up. The negligée itself splits open in the front supposedly to reveal enticing skin and the hem of it is made dainty by a frill lining.
Dean stares with wide eyes, his mind and soul quiet as he lets the negligée hang from his fingertips. Castiel smiles to himself, feeling proud now that he sees the garment next to Dean.
“I won’t pretend the color was an arbitrary choice,” he says pridefully, righting his tie. The negligée is as close to the same shade of blue as he could come, which was satisfactorily close. “It simply felt right.”
Dean visibly swallows and lowers the negligée slowly. “Cas,” he has to clear his throat but Castiel is unable to tell why. “What is this?”
Castiel tilts his head to the side, regarding Dean and the blush rising on his cheeks. His soul is trembling but Castiel’s grace doesn’t seem to react negatively to that so he presses on, undeterred.
“A negligée. For you.”
“I see that,” Dean suddenly refuses to meet Castiel’s eyes. “Why?”
“Because—” Castiel stops himself. It only occurs to him now that Dean doesn’t know that Castiel has seen what he has hidden under his rugged clothes. Doesn’t know that Castiel absolutely knows that Dean right now is sitting there in a pair of black satin panties that are bursting at the seams trying to cover all of him.
A lie is on the tip of his tongue but then what good would that do? If he hopes to get what he wants he thinks he ought to start being honest with Dean. He has learned over the years working with humans that trust breaks down walls while lies build them high, and Dean’s walls are already too high.
“Because I saw,” he says, putting a hand on the table between them, leaning forward a little in an attempt to come closer without appearing too eager. “I have seen what you hide and now I want to see more.”
Dean splutters indignantly. “What the fuck are you—?” he cuts himself off, staring at Castiel for a moment. “Above the vat, the Jefferson Starships 2.0. You paused.”
Castiel nods. “It was an accident that I saw it then so I didn’t say anything. But I haven’t been able to look away Dean,” he feels his wings shift, his grace beckoning Dean’s soul. “I am enthralled.”
Dean’s cheeks are read and his hands are trembling slightly but he hasn’t pushed away the negligée. It rests in a heap over his lap as he stares at Castiel.
“You’re…you’re not.”
“Oh but I am,” Castiel rumbles. “I know you have a variety of things you like to put on and I wish to look at you without restrictions. I want you to be free to express yourself and I want to see you in this,” he taps the table, eyes cutting down to the negligée.
Dean nearly squirms and Castiel feels such a sharp thrill of arousal that he almost gets up and stalks around the table.
“I dunno, man,” Dean looks to the side again, obviously unsure of this whole situation that seemingly sprung up from nowhere. It’s different for Castiel, who has had weeks to contemplate this, that much is clear. But what is even clearer is how much Dean wants to try the negligée on, if his delighted soul is anything to go by.
“Put it on, Dean,” Castiel demands, chancing a shift in tone and seeing an answering shiver pass through Dean’s body, his eyes growing hooded. “Put it on for me.”
A moment passes between them and then Dean bows his head.
“Not…not here.”
Castiel nods, that much being evident. Sure this bunker is supposedly safe and the only two other people they know to have access to the bunker are miles away, but the kitchen hardly seems private enough either way.
“Anywhere you like.”
Dean nods, still not truly looking at Castiel. When they stand, he pauses to drain the last of his beer, and then he all but stalks out of the kitchen with the negligée held tightly.
Dean leads Castiel not to his room, or the guest room where Castiel has stayed, but deeper into the bunker, to a seemingly random room.
“I, um,” Dean purses his lips as he picks a key from his pocket to unlock the room. “I don’t want to mix too much.”
Mix his two lives together, is what Castiel gathers. Sure, Dean must have been doing that all his life but why not keep a spare room for hidden secrets if he can? Castiel doesn’t mind, he’s too busy being happy that this is happening and at the same time trying to remain calm.
The door opens up to a room very similar to Sam and Dean’s bedrooms, though this one is much more sparsely decorated. It still has all the basic furniture. A bed, a desk and a chair, a dresser and a sink with a mirror. The necessities, Castiel assumes as someone who has never really had a room before, or a need for one.
“Do you mind waiting outside?”
Castiel nods. “Not at all,” he says, pivoting on the doorstep.
“It’s just…” Dean starts as if Castiel protested. “I just wanna make sure it fits and all…”
Castiel should hope so. He gave the saleswoman Dean’s exact measurements and she’d assured him this size would fit. Still, he thinks as he nods again and goes to wait in the hallway, Dean might want to see himself in it first, to make sure he feels good. No point in any of this if Dean doesn’t like it too, after all.
After he has more or less pushed Cas out into the hallway, Dean stands for a moment in the middle of the room, contemplating the situation he has found himself in. He is acutely aware of the fact that the door provides little to no barrier to the angel and definitely none should Cas decide to reach out with his grace. Dean hasn’t told fucking anyone but ever since Purgatory he has started sensing when Cas’ grace touches his soul. It makes a strange kind of warmth emanate from inside him that both calms and excites him and he has started craving the sensation.
But fuck if that damn sensation helped him prepare for this. Would’ve been nice with a goddamn heads up, just saying.
Dean has had a taste for dressing in women’s lingerie since he was in high school and he’d tried on Rhonda’s panties. So far she’s the only one who has seen him in anything other than normal clothes but that’s not because Dean hasn’t wanted to try it on with someone else. But who the fuck would he be able to trust with such a sensitive secret?
His eyes cut to the closed door, practically glowing with Cas’ presence on the other side. Well, it would be the fucking angel that bends himself backwards for Dean at all times, he supposes.
The person Dean trusts with his life is Sam but he’s obviously not someone Dean wants to involve in this kink so reason stands that Cas would be the candidate for it since, if Dean is being damn honest, he trusts Cas more than life. Almost to the point of ridiculousness, even after everything that happened when the angel was working with Crowley and Sammy almost died.
And Dean would be a fucking fool if he thought he could lie about his attraction to Cas. Sure, he won’t admit it but his body damn well will and yeah, he wants the angel. Wants to sit naked on his stupidly handsome face. Wants Cas to touch him. And though Dean knows he puts on women’s underwear because they make him feel confident and beautiful, truthfully he mostly does it because it arouses him.
He gets fucking excited at the thought of getting caught, of landing in a situation where his clothes are taken from him or he has to remove them for some reason, and someone sees him like that. It’s the danger of it all, he supposes, like a poser exhibitionist since he doesn’t actively seek out to show himself off publicly but still privately gets off to the thought of someone catching on.
And now someone has and that someone wants to see more. And happens to be Cas of all fucking people. Dean’s best friend and sexual interest and oh, a damn Angel of the Lord.
“This is so fucked up,” Dean mutters, holding the negligée out in front of him.
It’s pretty, there’s no doubt about that, but is it too much? Dean doesn’t know why but putting on something like this feels too close to putting on a dress and that’s not something he looks to do. His kink stems from having on underwear like silky panties and lacey bras, although he supposes he fairly recently upgraded to also trying on stockings and he has loved that so far so why the fuck not? It’s still a kind of lingerie, he thinks. The difference would be that this isn’t something he can feasibly wear under his normal clothes while he’s out in public, which is part of his kink.
Well it’s not like he doesn’t like to do it by himself too, he thinks as he goes over to the dresser to start removing his clothes, tossing the negligée on the bed and pretending it doesn’t bother him that he’s not more careful with it. That’s after all one of the reasons why he has claimed this room aside from his bedroom. In his regular room he indulges in sleeping and regular masturbation but in this room he puts on things that make him feel pretty and he pretends he has someone in here that likes how he looks.
Someone handsome or beautiful, Dean hasn’t historically really cared. The gender of his partner has been a little whatever, although lately he has been thinking he would like another man to watch him while he wears something like this. A strong man with an intense gaze who touches Dean with sure hands and guides him however the man wants him to move for him to see absolutely everything he wants and—fucking hell he wants Cas for all of that.
He stands in front of the negligée, staring at its crumbled form, wearing only the pair of black satin panties he’d put on this morning. He’d known Cas was coming over, had he put on panties for the angel? No, Dean has been wearing things like this since before he even learned of Cas’ existence. But has he started wearing clothes like that more often over the years? Maybe, Dean doesn’t fucking know. It’s probably a coincidence, the kink simply growing alongside his friendship with Cas. But how fucking convenient, he thinks as he picks up the negligée with one hand, absentmindedly adjusting his dick with the other, that Cas has come to learn of Dean’s proclivity at the very height of it.
Slipping on the negligée makes him feel fucking whole, as if something was missing all these years, and it’s a stupid feeling that Dean won’t indulge. As if the introduction of Cas to this secret has somehow changed it on a profound level that makes everything feel right. Stupid.
Those ridiculous emotions set aside, Dean takes stock of himself and finds that the negligée fits surprisingly well on his traditionally male shape and that, yeah, he’s damn aroused alright. Fucking awesome.
Dean has a rule when it comes to wearing lingerie. If it doesn’t make him feel good, he won’t wear it, and that includes emotionally good or aroused, or preferably both. And standing in front of the small mirror above the sink in the sparse bedroom, Dean thinks he’s feeling all kinds of good.
The negligée flows naturally down his chest, resting comfortably just above his perky dick that’s still trapped in the panties. He looks pretty as fuck and Cas will be so damn lucky to see him like this. No one else has. It’s a damn privilege, Dean thinks, hyping himself up. And it’s easy to do, since Cas said he wanted to see more and despite Dean’s apprehension, he finds he actually wants to show the angel. He’d simply been caught off guard since this is a secret he has been guarding for decades but fuck it, he’s damn into this and Cas seems to be too.
Smirking at his reflection, Dean reaches down to adjust his dick again. Over the years, he has learned to suppress the arousal he feels when he’s wearing something like this. He usually goes out among people when he has these things on and while he does fantasize about getting caught by someone who’d want to fuck him because of what he’s wearing, he doesn’t particularly fancy going around in public with a boner. But this is different.
For one, he’s in a safe space and one he has dedicated to masturbating specifically while wearing lingerie, and beyond that he has an angel outside the door who said he wanted to see Dean in this. Who went to a damn store and fucking bought it for Dean to wear so that he could look at him and enjoy what he sees. Now, does that entail sexual enjoyment? Dean isn’t completely sure but he fucking hopes so.
Feeling emboldened by the excitement he’d thought he’d seen on Cas’ face, and the way he’d demanded to see Dean in this negligée, Dean opens the door before he can change his mind.
Seeing Cas simply standing outside the door, looking right at it, patiently waiting as if time means nothing to him, throws Dean off a little. He huddles behind the door, suddenly feeling a bit shy for some damn reason.
“C’mon in,” he mumbles, eyes down.
He’s feeling strangely demure in a way he never has before during sex or otherwise. Cas sweeps past him, his presence commanding the room as soon as he enters it, and Dean senses the angel’s grace wrapping comfortingly around him.
Cas turns to him just as Dean shuts the door. Just for the fucking heck of it he also flips the lock, although he doesn’t know who would enter and ruin everything. Just nerves getting the best of him, he supposes as he smiles at Cas.
“Well,” he says, arms out a little as he steps closer, on the fucking verge of twirling because yeah, that sudden shyness is dissipating by the second. He does feel good in this and Cas is damn lucky to see him. “You got the size right, good job.”
Cas stares mutely, not with bulging eyes or anything comical like that, but simply lets his eyes wander up and down Dean’s whole body, cataloguing what he sees. If this had been a few years back Dean would have said Cas doesn’t care about what he’s seeing because damn his unintentional poker face is good. But after all the years they have spent together, after all the shit they have been through, Dean has learned a thing or two about the angel and yeah, he sees some signs of something happening inside Cas.
The way his jaw clenches harder, the twitch of a shoulder, the tightening of his squint. Fuck, okay, either Cas is getting angry or he’s reacting very favorably to what he’s seeing. Either way that intense-as-melted-lava look makes Dean feel some type of way, that’s for damn sure.
Experiencing a mix of empowerment and embarrassment, Dean turns on the spot, looking at Cas over his shoulder while showing off his backside. And ass.
“What do you think? You bought it and told me to put it on, you gotta tell me if you like how I look or not.”
The reaction is immediate. Cas’ lips part on a particularly shaky exhale and he staggers back a step or two, groping blindly for the chair beside the desk. He misses the back of it once before grabbing it to steady himself so that he can lower himself on the chair. His shoulders hunch as if he’s carrying a great weight and fuck, did the room get darker? Smaller? Dean eyes the space behind Cas, imagining he can see the angel’s massive wings rise high above him in response to seeing Dean like this. As if prepared to strike or protect.
Intrigued, Dean turns back and takes another step closer, hands on his hips as he looks down at the angel.
“Like what you see, then?”
“Dean,” Cas rumbles, near warningly, holding up a hand as if to stop Dean. It’s trembling slightly, something Dean doesn’t think he has seen Cas do before.
“You’re…” Dean smirks. Cas is bent at the waist, one hand on his knee and the other still out in front of him. “You’re really liking it, huh?”
“You’re exquisite.”
The compliment takes Dean a little by surprise, throws him off his game a little, and he decides to avoid it for now. Instead he walks boldly all the way up to Cas so that his hand suddenly touches Dean over his stomach. And the negligée.
“Touch me, Cas.”
A fucking ravenous look crosses the angel’s handsome face and Dean feels gut-punched by arousal. He damn near feels his stomach muscles clench as desire pumps through him and he doesn’t get a second to breathe before Cas’ big hand slides around his side, grabbing.
“I shouldn’t,” he all but growls. “I can’t control myself.”
Dean’s breathing already feels labored, or as if he doesn’t get enough oxygen in his system with every useless breath.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean my grace won’t be able to help me.” Cas has both hands on Dean’s body now, pulling him closer so that their legs knock together. “It’s all it can do to keep me from releasing.”
A surge of pure want goes through Dean.
“You’re holding back?” he croaks, feeling a delightful swirl of arousal when Cas nods, looking up at Dean with dark eyes.
“Ever since I first saw what you were hiding.” His hands flex on Dean’s body, as if he needs to grab harder but stops himself. “I have been imagining seeing more, seeing you like this. And it has made me so…” he closes his eyes, breathing in and looking as if he fucking found ecstasy. “Excited.”
Fuck.
“And what?” Dean asks, voice sultry as he knocks Cas’ knees apart, making space for himself so that the angel has to lean back a little. “It made you hard? Made you wanna jerk off?”
“It made me want to lose control,” Cas rumbles, hands going behind Dean to find his round ass, partially covered in the scant panties and yeah, Dean is fucking hard now. Right in Cas’ face. “And it made me even more excited to reel myself back in every time I thought of you.”
The pleasure that rolls through Dean is almost too sharp, to the point of robbing him of his sanity. Hands on Cas’ shoulders, he slides his legs over Cas’ so that he comes to straddle the angel’s lap, desk chair squeaking in protest.
“You were edging?” he groans, one hand on the back of Cas’ head, fisting his unruly hair, and the other grabbing Cas’ stupid tie. Something to hold on to as he rolls his hips down to find Cas absolutely raging hard.
“I liked to challenge myself.” Cas’ hands on Dean’s hips encourage his rolling and yeah, the head of Dean’s dick is peeking out over the top of the panties now, too big to be contained. “And I wanted to save myself for this.”
Dean moans, breathing in a shared space as they sit so close their lips almost touch. Their movements are slow and measured and Dean is fucking sweating as pleasure crashes over him while they keep eye-contact.
“That’s so fucking hot.”
“You’re stunning, Dean,” Cas rumbles, still clearly in way too much control of himself. “These clothes only accentuate that.”
“I’m sorry I don’t have panties that match this negligée,” Dean moans. “Maybe next time?”
“I’ll buy you anything you want.”
Fuck yeah, that was exactly what Dean wanted to hear. The promise of another time, of perhaps many more after this, bolsters his confidence and pushes his arousal even higher.
Arching his back, he bares his throat to the angel, legs squeezing around Cas’ hips.
“Cas,” damn he feels vulnerable all of a sudden. “I want you to fuck me.”
Cas’ whole body jerks forward and he pulls Dean closer, hugging him and halting their movements.
“Don’t ask that of me.”
An embarrassing sound escapes Dean. A whimper? Fuck off.
“Don’t you want me, angel?”
Cas fucking snarls. “I can’t con—”
Grabbing Cas’ face, Dean gets in real damn close. “I don’t want you to control yourself,” he says in a hushed voice, eyes locked on Cas’. “I want you to mess me the fuck up. You think I’m pretty like this? Fucking show me.”
That’s all it takes for Cas to push Dean off his lap and down onto the unsuspecting bed. He bounces once, landing sprawled as Cas rises, loosening his tie as he towers over Dean. Fuck it, that’s totally the shadow of the angel’s wings behind him, washing over the walls and engulfing the poor lighting.
“Careful what you wish for.”
Dean has to start stroking himself or he might just fucking die. He mewls, arching his back when Cas’ eyes cut down to his hand. Pleasure ripples through him, hand moving over his crotch, the panties digging in against his hips as his hard dick strains in his hand.
“Already so hard,” Cas comments lightly, as if his own pants aren’t obscenely tented. As if he didn’t just fucking admit to having his grace help him edging.
“Such a slut for you, angel.”
The words are out of Dean’s mouth before he knows it and he would be fucking mortified if it wasn’t for the look of unadulterated desire that passes over Cas’ face. In the next moment, Dean finds himself scooped up in Cas’ arms, pushed higher on the bed as if he weighs nothing, and then Cas is draping himself over Dean’s body.
He’s still in all his clothes, although his tie hangs looser than usual, and as he comes closer, Dean feels enveloped by the angel. His wings, his physical body, his grace, all of it seem to reach out to Dean and fucking hell, he has never felt so safe and desired before.
His body trembles with fresh pleasure, the heat inside him making everything feel tight and wonderfully sensitive. He bucks up, rolling once more against Cas’ hard body and moaning as his dick gets smushed between them. Cas hums, clearly pleased, and Dean has to think it’s the angel’s grace that’s keeping him from fucking drenching his pants. His cock is so hard and yet Cas moves with unhurried speed, touching and licking, finding nipples to suck on through the negligée.
Dean gasps, eyes flying open as his pleasure spikes. His nipples have always been sensitive but fuck. He loves playing with them when he has a bra on but it’s on a whole other goddamn level when someone else licks them like this. When Cas does it as if he hasn’t ever experienced anything better in his whole life.
Holding on desperately, Dean pulls his legs up, leaving them in a position dangerously close to how Cas could fuck him. With Cas on his knees between Dean’s open legs, body framed by Dean’s knees as they thrust together with abandon. And fuck, Dean knows he could come like this but he wants so much more.
“C’mon,” he moans. “We need to prep.”
“Prep,” Cas repeats as if the word means nothing to him. He has abandoned Dean’s nipples now and is kissing and licking his way down Dean’s chest and stomach, going over both the negligée and bare skin.
“Your cock is too big for my hole.”
Well, Dean would have to prep no matter what Cas’ size is but the comment has the desired effect. The look Cas throws him reminds Dean of a wild animal and he fucking loves it. Loves seeing the desperation that’s mounting inside Cas, and the way his grace shines through his eye as it no doubt strains to help him remain as calm as possible.
Dean, meanwhile, isn’t calm at fucking all. Cas is situated far enough down the bed that his face is precariously close to Dean’s throbbing dick and suddenly all he can think about is feeling Cas’ mouth on him. Cas’ eyes flick down, a smirk growing when Dean’s dick bobs, pushing against its restraints.
“Your thoughts are loud, Dean,” Cas chuckles and that’s all the warning Dean gets.
His hips twitch up when he feels the angel’s breath on his dick and he spreads his legs like a two-dollar whore, breath stuck in his throat when he first feels Cas’ tongue against his hot dick head. He would complain about the stinging sensation as the panties cut against his dick if it wasn’t for the fact that that also gives him pleasure. Goddamnit, he should have Cas restrain him next time.
Every lick of Cas’ hot tongue makes pleasure tingle up and down Dean’s spine. He digs his heels in against the bed, hands in Cas’ hair as he pulls to try and get closer, needing more. But Cas is steady as fucking rock, only giving as much as he wants to and Dean gets off on the lack of control he has compared to Cas. On the way he can simply melt into putty in the angel’s hands and still know he’ll get exactly what he needs.
The negligée is tight around his body now, the flowy part ticking him and the bra and band around his chest almost feeling as if it’s making breathing difficult and that, too, is making Dean’s vision swim with arousal. He’s gasping again, body pumping with excitement as Cas fucking finally pries Dean’s dick out of his panties and takes it completely in his hot and wet mouth.
It’s too fucking much and Dean doesn’t know what to do with himself. He can feel his orgasm pummeling through him but no, he doesn’t want it yet. Wants to come on Cas’ cock.
“Cas,” he whines, body shaking, toes curling.
“Not yet,” Cas rumbles as if that will make Dean need to come less.
And then suddenly he feels Cas’ finger against his hole. His willing and twitching but decidedly dry hole. Looking down he sees Cas sitting up on his knees, one hand still holding Dean’s aching dick while he keeps the one finger against Dean’s hole.
“Cas…”
Cas shushes him and then Dean feels it, the distinct sensation of the angel’s grace washing through him, tugging on his soul to comfort him, and Dean relaxes. For all but two seconds until he senses the grace focusing on his ass and fucking hell, did Cas just use his grace to prep Dean in record speed?
He jerks, his orgasm making itself known again when red hot pleasure sears through him. Gritting his teeth, he fists the bed sheets and bucks down. Sure enough, Cas’ finger easily slips inside and Dean moans throatily, feeling more open and ready than he ever has before.
“Are you ready for me, Dean?”
Wouldn’t Cas know that better? Fucker just graced up Dean’s whole body and now he’s sitting there naked with his cock in hand and—hey wait a minute.
“Where the fuck did your clothes go?”
Cas smiles as if Dean is cute. Guess that grace of his is good for more than preparing Dean’s hole for a dicking.
“I won’t be able to stop once I start,” Cas says instead of answering the question. Whatever, Dean can see the angel’s clothes in a heap on the desk chair. “I have wanted this for too long.”
Weeks, presumably, but fuck that. Dean has wanted Cas for way longer but then he supposes it’s not a damn competition.
Shuffling to turn over so that he can get on his knees and present his ass like a bitch in heat, Dean grins over his shoulder.
“Fucking ruin me, Cas.”
He lets out a strangled groan when the pressure of the panties suddenly disappear, a trail of Cas’ grace leaving him shivering with pleasure. The negligée is staying on, though, and Dean feels smug about that. Fuck yeah Cas likes to see Dean in stuff like this. Judging by the absolutely massive boner he rubs between Dean’s ass cheeks, he likes it a lot.
For a second, Cas feels too big. Too much to conceivably fit even though he’s probably average sized and his grace has loosened Dean’s hole, but then he’s pressing past the rim and Dean relaxes instinctively so that Cas slides home with ease.
It makes Dean smile, hiding his face as he adjusts to having Cas inside him. It feels good, on a physical level, in that Dean likes to feel stuffed full by something like a cock and it’s fucking awesome how Cas presses against Dean’s prostate. Pleasure pulsates out from that special place and he feels his dick drip with precome.
But other than that, holy fucking hell, Dean is getting fucked by Castiel.
His mind can’t wrap itself around that and he finds himself focusing on how good it feels once Cas starts moving rather than how his heart quivers with every thrust. And then Cas finds his rhythm and Dean stops thinking altogether.
Hugging the pillow in front of him he groans pathetically, legs trembling to hold him up when Cas grabs his hips to pull Dean into his thrusts. And fucking hell, the angel was right and there is no damn stopping him now. No fucking wonder since he has been edging himself for probably weeks now but goddamn, Dean gets overwhelmed by pleasure so quickly he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
It’s all he can fucking do to stay upright and he barely manages that. The pace Cas has set is brutal but he still manages to time his thrusts, rolling his hips like a damn pro. Dean’s prostate is constantly assaulted and there is so much precome being pushed out of him it damn well looks like he has already finished.
Sneaking a look over his shoulder again, he finds Cas with an expression on his face as if he has found heaven. Him, an angel, finding fucking heaven in Dean, a mortal. It makes Dean’s body convulse with raw and vulnerable need and he whimpers desperately.
Either the sound or the tightening of his hole catches Cas’ attention and the angel turns his glowing blue eyes to look down at Dean. He’s ethereal at that moment and Dean chokes at the sight, breath stuck in his throat and mind blanking out at the fact that this powerful creature, this Angel of the Lord, wants him. Got aroused by him, wanted to touch and hold him.
“Dean,” Cas rumbles, bending down over Dean so that he has to all but stretch out on the bed. “Are you close?” a warm hand wraps itself around Dean’s dick and fuck, fuck.
“C-Cas.”
“I’m going to come inside you,” Cas rumbles right the fuck next to Dean’s ear and nope, nope Dean can’t take it.
His whole body locks up, a tiny gasp is cut off before it can barely escape, his balls tightening and dick throbbing in Cas’ hand. And then, impossibly, the sensation of the angel’s wings against his bare skin.
“Release for me, Dean.”
The way Dean’s orgasm pumps through him, out of him, is fucking transcending and he will later swear he sensed his soul leaving his body and only Cas’ grace helped him stay whole.
But right then, at that moment, Dean doesn’t think about anything at all. He’s a creature of pleasure, white noise passing through his brain as he gives in to his desires. Behind him, Cas groans dirtily and still right in Dean’s ear. Weeks of holding back no doubt catch up with him and he follows Dean over the edge not long after, hips driving into Dean’s slack body for just a moment longer.
It’s so much, so hot and so wet, that it spills and makes a complete mess of everything when Cas attempts to pull out. The sensation is tacky but still makes Dean moan with renewed pleasure and Cas breathes shakily, one hand stroking Dean’s back and side, clearly loving the feeling of the negligée against his hand and Dean’s skin.
“Dean,” he groans, hips moving again, seemingly of their own volition. “You’re so beautiful.”
Dean only moans a little, feeling drained and floating on cloud nine even as Cas pushes his still semi-hard cock through the mess he made of Dean’s hole. The squelching sound is loud and a shiver passes through Dean’s body when Cas rolls them to the side to give them another angle.
Fresh pleasure ripples through Dean’s body and his spent dick twitches valiantly but it’s the encouraging feeling of Cas’ cock growing hard again inside him that Dean focuses on. It’s still persistently pressing against his prostate and it’s so fucking nice Dean is melting even though his whole body is becoming too sensitive.
Shuffling and pushing a little he manages to turn around enough so that they can kiss over his shoulder and it doesn’t strike him until they do that it’s their first kiss. It makes him moan wantonly and Cas seems completely overcome by how it makes him feel. He licks eagerly into Dean’s mouth, easily owning the kiss, one hand coming up to cup Dean’s jaw.
Dean goes slack, loving how demanding Cas is and how much pleasure he feels when Cas tangles their tongues together, clearly wanting to taste as much of Dean as possible. It quickly grows sloppy and wonderful and Dean barely notices when Cas pulls out of him to change position once more.
This time lands him back between Dean’s open legs so that they can continue kissing as Cas enters him again and fucking hell, that’s new for sure. Obviously Dean has kissed and fucked at the same time before but with Cas everything feels new and exciting. The angel gathers him close, barely letting up enough for Dean to breathe and once more, as Cas wraps his strong arms around Dean’s body, does Dean sense the angel’s wings.
He bucks as pleasure crests inside him and fucking hell, he won’t get hard again but with this damn pressure on his prostate another orgasm might get milked out of him. Cas sure seems raring to go, though, with the way he’s thrusting and using Dean’s body like a damn sexdoll. And the way he kisses Dean, fuck. One hand still on Dean’s jaw, holding him as he likes, tongue licking greedily, swallowing Dean’s every little sound.
Feeling a pressure inside him, Dean clenches down harder on Cas’ cock, hands grabbing the angel’s torso and feeling the heat inside him. Fucking hell, the desperation in Cas’ movements is becoming evident and Dean wants it so bad, wants Cas to fucking own him in the most primal way.
“Come on me,” he gasps when Cas relents with the kisses, if only for a moment. “Want it on my skin.”
A filthy groan escapes Cas and in the next heartbeat he has pulled out, cock slapping wetly against Dean’s still mostly soft dick. The sensation of Cas stroking them together makes arousal explode inside Dean and it doesn’t take much after that. His body is so strung up everything aches sweetly and he wants to live in this moment, kept forever on the precipice of pleasure, but then it’s somehow made even better when Cas breaks the moment by coming right on Dean’s stomach. It smears all over both of them, completely soaking the negligée and Dean damn near feels as if he’s coming again, although nothing comes out and he’s still soft in Cas’ big hand.
“Damn, angel,” he grins, arms around Cas’ neck, stroking the back of his head. “You really needed to come, huh?”
Cas smiles, looking almost shy all of a fucking sudden. “I’m sorry I ruined the negligée.”
“It’ll wash. Besides,” Dean’s grin turns mischievous. “You said you’d buy me anything I like, right?”
Cas’ soft look and the way his grace wraps around Dean’s soul tells Dean he did a shit job of hiding how vulnerable he felt asking that. Well, maybe that’s fine, he thinks as he lies there in Cas’ arms with the angel’s release drying on his skin and leaking out of his ass.
“I would love to explore more with you, Dean.”
“Hell yeah.”
“You’re truly…” Cas looks down, tracing Dean’s stomach and the negligée. “Truly wonderful. How many have you let see you like this?”
Is Cas a little possessive? A spike of need goes through Dean at the thought.
“No one,” he answers truthfully and feels happy about that when Cas looks pleased, almost smug.
“Good.”
Yeah, Dean thinks as he pulls Cas down to share a kiss far sweeter than any others, that’s perhaps the best part of it all. To belong only to Cas like this.
Truthfully, the outcome of Castiel’s daring move is much better than he could have ever dreamed or hoped. Their relationship has grown considerably closer and more pleasurable and Dean has certainly started becoming bolder in his exploration of this kink they share. The only thing making them both a little nervous is the way Sam has started eyeing them, as if suspecting something is going on behind his back.
But that’s okay, Castiel thinks as he walks shamelessly into a new lingerie store in search of something fun to surprise Dean with. Castiel loves sharing this secret with Dean and even if they do decide to tell Sam about the development in their relationship, Castiel doubts they’ll ever clue the younger Winchester in on exactly what they do behind closed doors.
Some things are after all better left as delectable secrets.