Title: Lead Me Into The Light
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel
Warning(s): first time sex, language – PWP, Fallen/human!Castiel
Spoiler(s): Vaguely for late season five, too lazy to be episode specific right now
Prompt(s): sycophantastic, Supernatural, Dean/human!Castiel, he never used to fidget when he was an angel
Word Count: 1,663
Rants: I'm having a difficult time writing porn. IDEK.
Summary: One of the side affects of Castiel's Falling is the fidgeting. When Sam suggests Dean teach the former angel how to burn off energy, well, it's not Dean's fault his mind goes to the gutter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Boo.
It's weird, Dean muses, to think of Castiel as constantly in motion. All things considered, he didn't actually move that much, but when Dean is used to the angel being stock still... It kind of stands out when Castiel starts to drum his fingers on his thighs, bump his knee against the table, wrinkle his nose and lick his lips.
It's Sam who suggests Dean teach Castiel how to burn off the energy. It makes sense, really, to make Castiel run laps with them or to do pushups and sit ups – anything to tire him out, to quell his boundless energy and leave him exhausted.
Only, Dean's kind of a pervert and when Sam suggests that he wear Castiel out, his mind instantly goes to the wrong place. (Actually, that would probably depend on how you define wrong.)
Dean's always been more than willingly to introduce Castiel to the finer points in life and with Castiel's newfound need to be in constant motion, well, he takes to sex like a fish to water. So, as far as Dean is concerned, it's a win/win situation.
Castiel covers every inch of Dean's body with shy, experimental kisses and licks and bites and teases the endless stretch of Dean's skin until he's satisfied he's relearned the body he himself put back together. It's only when he's mapped the curve of Dean's elbows, the bend of his knees, the trenches between his toes and fingers and the planes of his stomach does Castiel deign to move on to what Dean really wants, and even then, Dean is still at Castiel's mercy.
His tongue is quick, testing and tasting the length of Dean's shaft. His fingers move just as fast, measuring the length, testing the way it fits in his curled fist before teasing back up from the base to the tip to see what and where causes Dean's keening cries to escalate, what leaves him groaning long and low. It's only when Dean's a desperate writhing mess between Castiel's restless hands does the former angel wrap his lips around Dean's cock, sucking long and hard, but even that's short lived.
Dean's already starting to regret this – not because it's Castiel, no, Dean's wanted this for ages, the issue he has now is he doesn't think he's ever going to be allowed to get off – when Castiel presses a soft kiss against Dean's thigh and says, "I would like to fuck you now."
Which, was not part of the game plan. Dean had assumed he was going to be the one to pin Castiel to the bed, but the Fallen angel's fingers are already starting to skate up Dean's inner thighs and press teasingly against his hole, and okay, the entire point of the exercise was to wear Castiel out so he'd stop fidgeting for five minutes, so it's not like they're deviating much from the plan. That, and the thought of letting Castiel take him was way hotter than Dean will ever admit.
"Lube," Dean says, licking his lips nervously. "Nightstand. You know this works, right?" He props himself up on his elbows to watch Castiel crawl across the ugly bedspread to retrieve the lube, and he can't stop himself from reaching over and letting his fingers trail across the smooth skin.
"Dean, I am infinitely older than you and have been watching humanity since before – before everything," Castiel says, exasperated. He grabs the lube, rolling the tube in his hands, before glancing over at Dean. "Yes, Dean, I know what I am doing." He smiles then, and crawls back towards Dean to press their lips together in a kiss. "Trust me," he whispers and Dean can't help it; he does trust Castiel, explicitly, completely.
Dean's so busy trying to fuck Castiel's mouth with his tongue, he's caught off guard and startled by the cold finger pressing against his entrance, then inside of him. "Fuck," he gasps, and he can feel Castiel mouth apologies against his cheek. Castiel takes his time, gives Dean a minute to adjust. His fingers are constantly in motion after though, twisting and pushing and crooking and pulling out in slow drags that make, as embarrassing as it is, Dean think he's going to come just from this.
"Hurry up, Cas," Dean snaps, but the rest of his words are cut off by a pathetic groan as he bows his back, pressing himself tightly up against Castiel's chest. "Virgin my ass," he grunts, digging his nails into Castiel's shoulders before scraping them down the angel's back. It seems impossible that Castiel could pay enough attention to Dean's responses to know exactly where he was pressing his fingers, curling and stroking inside of him, but then again, the angel has already memorized every inch of Dean, wrung out all the moans and groans and whimpers he could so far, so maybe it isn't such a stretch.
Dean lets out a low groan at the loss of Castiel's fingers; silly, really, since he was so insistent on Castiel picking up the pace, but the sudden absence is obscene. He props himself up on his elbows when Castiel sits back on his heels, worming his way between Dean's thighs. Castiel shucks in a sharp breath when he drizzles the lube across his cock, startled by the chill and Dean finds himself running his fingers down Castiel's arm to distract him as he works his own cock, spreading the gel.
Castiel flashes him a smile before catching Dean's wrist and pressing a gentle kiss against the center of his palm. He doesn't warn Dean before shoving him back on the bed though and Castiel has to nudge Dean's thighs farther apart before the head of his cock can nudge against Dean's hole. It's another moment before they can sort out a way for all the unnecessary limbs to be elsewhere and Castiel manages to push into Dean with a slow, continuous shove. They're both shuddering and gasping for breath by the time Castiel bottoms out.
"Dean," Castiel whispers. He's holding his own weight on a forearm, peppering Dean's cheek and jaw with kisses while his fingers skitter down and across Dean's chest, tweaking and teasing nipples, nails raking over ribs and thumb dipping into his bellybutton. The twitching of his hand is distracting and it doesn't abate when Castiel starts to pull out and shove back into Dean.
Dean doesn't know what to focus on, what to arch into; the chaotic motions of Castiel's fingers or the slow drag and thrust of Castiel's hips. Considering this is Castiel's first time and that he's never done anything remotely close to this, he should be the one in sensory overload, not Dean. The hunter has a hard time thinking it's not fair though when Castiel starts sucking a red mark on his throat and curls his fingers around Dean's shaft hesitantly.
It's over too soon for Dean's liking after that. It's too much, too soon. Castiel's still thrusting into him, angling for that spot he's already discovered turns Dean into a puddle of goo with his fingers. The same traitorous fingers that are sliding up and down Dean's cock, loose on the down stroke but tight and twisting on the up. Dean doesn't know how Castiel knows to do this, has a feeling the former angel is a kinkier freak than he'd thought before though and definitely a voyeur, but he can't bring himself to complain when Castiel's thumb swipes over the head, smearing and catching precum before it disappears again.
It only takes a few more tugs of Castiel's hand on Dean's cock before he's spilling his seed between their bodies, and Dean digs his nails into Castiel's shoulder as he clenches tightly around the former angel. "Cas," he breathes, low and desperate.
"Dean," Castiel agrees, his hips stuttering inside of Dean as he reaches his own completion. He lets go of Dean's cock in favor of digging his nails into Dean's hip, and for the first time that Dean can remember in a long time, Castiel is completely still except for his ragged breathing. "Dean," he groans again.
"I've got you, Cas," Dean says, huffing a breath of silent laughter before Castiel's arm gives out under him and he collapses bodily on top of Dean. The hunter feels like his breath has been punched out of him and his head is still spinning from his orgasm, but he wraps an arm around Castiel's waist anyways and rolls them onto their sides. It's more difficult than it should be, but Castiel has gone limp and allows Dean to manhandle him.
Castiel pulls himself free from Dean, and for a moment Dean thinks – and is scared – Castiel is going to leave, but the Fallen angel only stretches lazily, like a cat, before curling back up in Dean's space. "That was satisfactory?" Castiel asks, his lips barely brushing against Dean's as he speaks.
There's a lump in Dean's throat that he isn't sure how it got there, and Dean huffs out a breath of laughter. "Yeah, Cas, you did good," he says.
Their breaths are mingling together, warm and wet, and their lips only touch for feather light kisses. It's strangely domestic, Dean thinks, but he can't bring himself to care when Castiel has finally managed to calm down, to remain still for more than a second. He'll never admit it, but Dean kind of likes the way Castiel's eyelashes feel when they flutter against his skin.
"Get some sleep, Cas," Dean mutters after a while and Castiel makes a soft humming sound in agreement.
Eventually, when they've both calmed down and are breathing more evenly, Castiel starts to twitch again, fingers drumming against Dean's shoulder blade while his knee bounces up and down, but Dean just throws a leg over Castiel's hip to keep him still and he brushes their lips together in a lazy kiss. "Sleep," he commands and he's kind of surprised (but pleased) when Castiel obeys.