Title: Angel Physiology 101
Spoilers: None. AU.
Warnings: excessive wing!kink and heat!kink and oil!kink, self-lubrication, and medical lectures.
Word Count: ~7,000
Summary:The Angel's feathers were starting to stand up on the top edge, making himself appear larger to intimidate an enemy and Castiel resisted the urge to smooth them down. "Thank you so much for volunteering for this. I'm so proud and grateful."
Notes: Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. Totally haven't checked it 'cause I'm too damn lazy and I want to go to bed. So…
The delicate chains clinked softly in the quiet, semi-empty lecture hall. Castiel turned, looking towards the Angel who was crouched down defensively on the podium. The chains threaded from the high ceiling, into two bars that had a closed loop on one end and a flat, rounded head on the other. They threaded through holes drilled through the carpal joints of an Angel like stretcher earrings when the Angel was a few months old – a painless procedure for most.
He knew the restraints were largely unnecessary, and the ugly bulk of the chains and carabineers detracted from the Angel's naturally beautiful wings, but they were for the demonstration and he couldn't risk Dean getting too nervous to ruin the lecture.
Smiling gently, he walked up the stairs to the main podium and made his way over to his Angel. Thin, pale fingers threaded through the thick down at the base of Dean's wings and the Angel jolted, turning with a soft gasp to find Castiel with his wide, nervous green eyes.
Dean licked his lips, his wings shifting restlessly above him, dead weight in the restraints. His eyes flashed to the clock. "Not long now," he said.
"Nope," Castiel replied, smiling and stepping a little closer, his free hand cupping Dean's face while the other moved up under his wing, gently coaxing a few stray feathers back into place. He could feel his mate's wings tremble under his touch, the Angel nervous but trying to appear calm. His feathers were starting to stand up on the top edge, making himself appear larger to intimidate an enemy and he resisted the urge to smooth them down. "Thank you so much for volunteering for this. I'm so proud and grateful."
"Wouldn't want you touching another Angel," Dean confessed, casting his eyes down and earning a smile from the man.
Dean licked his lips again, eyes cast out to the empty room. There were enough chairs to sit thirty or so people and he shuddered at the thought of so many eyes on him, taking notes and listening and watching everything as his mate would go through Angel physiology with them. That's what he got for dating a cross-species doctor.
"Hey." His attention was caught again when Castiel brushed a thumb over his cheek, tilting the Angel's head to look into sincere, loving blue eyes. "It'll only be an hour – one hour you'll have to put up with me."
Dean snorted a laugh at that, rolling his green eyes, but Castiel was heartened by the smile that remained on his mate's lips. Then, the door at the top of the room banged open and people began to file in, just as the bell rang. At once the Angel was tense, fingers curling up into fists and eyes downcast.
"Can't we at least take these damn things off?" he muttered, wings flaring up high and then back down to emphasize his point as the chains clinked obscenely loudly.
Castiel sighed, brushing another hand through his mate's hair. "I know it sucks, but I know you, too, Dean – you wouldn't let me touch your wings if they weren't there. You get too nervous." He smiled gently, shrugging one shoulder. "Not sure why; you're gorgeous."
The pretty flush on his mate's cheeks was enough to make Castiel want to touch him in ways that were purely non-medical, but he resisted, fingers curling slightly into the thick feathers on the top ridge of his mate's wings before he stepped away and turned to face the class. The last few stragglers were coming in and taking their places, settling into place with their tape recorders and notebooks out, ready and waiting to learn.
When the door swung shut and the last seat was filled, he straightened, looking out over the small sea of medical interns. "Morning, everyone," he said with a slight smile and a dip of his head. "I'm Doctor Novak and I'll be your primary attending this year in your Angel physiology and behavioral studies.
I'd like to take a moment to thank Dean, who kindly volunteered to be our case study for this quarter." He gestured behind him to the chained Angel who was staring out at the sea of faces looking back at him, feathers rustling quietly at his sides. "Are there any questions before we get started?"
One of the hands rose in the air, coming from a short, thin-faced man with honey-blond hair and sharp hazel eyes. "Yes?" Castiel asked.
"What're the chains for?" the man asked, lowering his hand again.
Castiel smiled, looking up to the chains and then he moved to a small crank behind the lectern, winding it a few times so the chain lowered and allowed Dean's wing to fall more at eye level to most of the class. "Typically Angels, once they are past their first year of maturity, get these –" He carefully unhooked the carabineer from around one of Dean's wings, letting it drop, and picked up the wing again by the bar, carefully cradling it in his hands. "- stretchers. They are drilled just under the carpal joint so that the bone can repair itself along with the wing growth. It's actually the strongest part of the wing by the time it stops growing.
The restraints are purely so that we can observe the wing today, and for the rest of the quarter. When feeling cornered or exposed, Angels will typically fold themselves in their wings because the underside is the most sensitive, vulnerable part of them and they feel like they need to protect it. The chains will keep Dean from folding his wings so that we can observe him today."
He then reattached the carabineer to the loop of the bar, hoisting Dean's wing back into place. His mate was shaking very slightly, feathers rustling nervously and he wasn't looking at the class anymore, but down, focusing on the table he was crouched on. Castiel frowned, a small crease forming between his brows, and walked over so that he could stand by Dean's head, and brushed one hand across his mate's shoulder, wanting to comfort him without showing an undue amount of affection in class – they didn't need anyone getting the wrong idea about how appropriate it was to interact with an Angel patient, even though Angels by nature were more affectionate than humans.
"Before the anti-slavery act," he continued, petting once more through Dean's hair and then leaning against the table, hands braced behind him, close enough that Dean's fingers could brush over his, "it was common practice to use Angel wing stretchers to trap and restrain Angels for the underground pornography business, or to keep them docile and unable to fly away. Their wings were also clipped regularly." He swallowed, noticing how Dean tensed behind him, and took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain professional as he dragged his hands through Dean's wings again, stretching them out for the class to see.
He went through the different kinds of feathers on a wing and what they were for, how the wing moved and how to tell if there was something wrong with them. "There are very fine bones in an Angel's wings towards the outer edge," he explained, taking one of Dean's longer flight feathers and holding it under the projector, massaging between the thick feathers until one of Dean's long spines were fully extended. "These are rendered largely obsolete by today's society, like a human's appendix, but way back when, Angels used to use these to hook into the ground or cliff-sides when they mated."
Dean flushed at that, catching the small smirks on some of the students' faces, and jerked his wing away from Castiel's grip, folding it as tight to his side as the chains would allow. Castiel didn't show any sign of noticing or being caught off-guard, but his eyes did flash in concern when he turned from the class, resetting the projector – or pretending to.
"Doctor Novak?" one student spoke up, raising her hand and Dean's eyes flashed to her, swallowing. She quickly flipped to a page in her notes, frowning a little when Castiel turned to address her. "I remember reading somewhere that there are dominant and submissive Angels. How can you tell?"
Dean didn't think it was possible, but his blush deepened and he tried to pull his wings closer to himself, growling in frustration when he couldn't. The chains clinked obnoxiously loudly in response to his aborted movements.
"That's a good question, Anna," Castiel replied smoothly. "With Dean's permission, I'll show you."
Bright, sharp blue eyes fixed on Dean, and he swallowed, resisting the urge to curl up on himself. He didn't want to – knew what the difference between a dominant's and submissive's wings were, and he wasn't sure he would handle Castiel touching and showing them right now. He was on edge, feathers bristling up in response to a fight, and he wanted his mate's touch, but not with witnesses.
He swallowed again, and nodded towards Castiel, forcing a smirk to his face. "Be gentle, it's my first time," he quipped, earning a few chuckles from the students, and Castiel smiled indulgently at him.
"Of course," Castiel replied with a professional nod of his head, but Dean was still smirking. He carefully raised his head and scented the air, nostrils flaring. The scent of his mate's pheromones was one he knew well, Castiel's lust a heavy fog in the air when he breathed in. His wings twitched again, arching higher and exposing his oil glands beneath, and he watched as Castiel's eyes went dark.
The Doctor swallowed, stepping towards Dean and trying to hide the growing erection between his thighs, heat pooling low at the sign of submission and trust Dean was showing him. "There are two main differences between a dominant and submissive Angel," he began, voice already getting lower and rougher as he stepped forward the winch, cracking it a few times until Dean's wings were raised high enough that keeping them there naturally would have been very uncomfortable for the Angel. As it was, he didn't have to hold their weight up and let himself go lax, curling up on the table. "Submissive Angels have two sets of oil glands, and can self-lubricate." Castiel paused for a moment, looking up towards the class, and then gestured for them to rise and come forward. "All of you, come see the different sets. But no touching."
Dean tensed up with a low growl when the students got to their feet and began to shuffle down the steps from the raised desks and chairs to the podium. The Angel's feathers bristled up higher and his wings jerked, trying to fold to his flanks but the chains stopped him doing that.
"Don't fuckin' let them touch me," he demanded, fingers curling into fists where he pressed them against the desk.
Castiel smiled slightly, but his eyes were dark when he allowed himself a moment to stroke his palm across Dean's cheek. "Never, beloved."
The students gathered closer and Castiel carefully brushed his hand against the soft, thick down at the base of Dean's wings. "Dean is a submissive Angel, and he will have two sets of oil glands," he said, his voice growing lower when he realized that Dean's wings were already very damp with fresh oil. "Here…" He stepped forward, careful to try and let everyone see, and carefully pushed down a few of the smaller feathers, revealing one of the hard, honey-colored walnut-sized gland. "This is the lubrication gland. It produces oil that allows Angels to groom themselves and each other. The oil keeps their feathers in good condition and prevents them from getting dirty, for the most part."
Castiel swallowed again, his hands trembling minutely as he combed the feathers back into place, and moved his hands towards Dean's sensitive secondary glands. He could feel his mate trembling, and Dean was burning up, his breathing too even and low like he was breathing deep to try and control himself. "The, ah, secondary glands are a lot harder to find…" he began, his throat going dry at the scent of Dean's oil, the Angel producing oil from his second glands despite himself, the submissive part of him responding to his dominant mate's touch. Dean whined softly, wings shifting up higher to allow Castiel more access, trusting and begging and wanting. "They are very sensitive in a submissive Angel – they are designed to create oil that arouses potential mates, and act as a claim when their mate touches their oil and marks themselves with it."
There was a cough from the back of the students, and the honey-blonde man raised his hand again. "Yes?" Castiel asked.
"Shouldn't you be wearing gloves or something?" he asked curiously.
Castiel smiled, figuring this question would come up. He nodded to himself, distracted momentarily from the task of finding Dean's second glands. In truth, he knew the place they were located by touch memory and feel alone, and even if he didn't have that, Dean's flanks were soaked, and they would be easily found as the source. "Normally I would – an Angel courting and claiming is very serious and very private. That is why my mate would allow for no other Angel to take his place today in the demonstration."
He paused a moment, waiting for that to sink in. "It is also why I am allowing no one to touch his wings at this point in the demonstration."
A few people – the people Castiel may or may not give extra credit to at the end of the course – took a step away when they realized that Castiel was talking about the Angel on the table. The rest, however, merely kept their eyes going between Castiel's hands and his face, and the Angel's face, already getting flushed and sweaty, hair sticking to his temples and the back of his neck. "An Angel's glands are capable of getting infection, however, so you will need to know where they are. Like a prostate or cervical exam. Here." He pulled a few of the dripping feathers apart, baring the midnight-black raisin-sized gland for people to lean in and see. "This is a healthy gland. Sizes and coloration can vary, but the most common infection is like a typical yeast infection in humans. Does anyone know what one of the symptoms to look for is?"
Redhead raised her hand. "Yes, Anna?"
"White starchy deposits?" the woman half-asked, and Castiel nodded and smiled, letting Dean's feathers settle back into place.
"Very good. An Angel will also produce an excess of oil to try and clean them out when infected, like when the tear ducts try and wash out the eye. It can be very painful for them sometimes and can become very serious is left untreated." He was still absently petting through his mate's feathers, enjoying the silky-smooth slide of them through his fingers, coated in a fine sheen of oil, and how Dean trembled and panted under his touch. The Angel's shirt was completely stuck to his back and sides, wet with oil like a second skin now, showing off his muscled back and the sharp curve of his ribcage. Castiel licked his lips, wanting to touch, to taste – the bell's shrill ringing brought him out of his thoughts.
"Well, class," he said shortly, taking a deep breath and trying to ignore how the very air was saturated with Dean's scent, "that'll be all for today. Get on and I'll see you tomorrow morning."
It seemed to take forever while the students packed their things and filed up out of the door. Castiel's fingers clenched a little into fists behind his back as he watched them leave, the chains attached to Dean's wings clinking softly as the Angel shifted. Finally, the door swung closed and Castiel turned around, breathing hard when he saw Dean watching him, waiting, the Angel's green eyes almost completely overtaken by black pupils, his cheeks flushed, brow sweaty. God, he was beautiful.
"Thought they'd never leave," he whispered, and then groaned when Castiel threw himself at his mate, fingers clenching tightly in Dean's thick, short hair and kissing him. His fingers were slicked with oil and he was sure he was getting it everywhere, but with the taste of Dean in his mouth and the scent of him all over, Castiel couldn't find it in himself to care.
"Cas," the Angel whined, his wings flaring up high as he tried to steady himself, tried to sit back on his haunches so he could reciprocate, pull his mate towards him and underneath him, touch him the way he had been touched, cover his mate with oil and claim him all over again. "Please, come here, get these…" He jerked his wings again, chains rattling loudly.
"Hmm…" Castiel purred, eyes half-lidded as he stared at his mate's face, petting his oil-and-sweat-slick hair back and away from his forehead. "God, I love you like this," he whispered, leaning forward again, the dry, open drag of his lips against Dean's own enough to illicit and low, pained whine from the Angel. "You smell like you're going into heat, baby, why didn't you tell me?"
Dean, if possible, blushed harder, averting his eyes and lowering his head submissively, while Castiel pressed his jaw against Dean's temple. The Angel's wings jerked again in an aborted movement when long, pale fingers began to pet through his feathers.
"I didn't…" Dean flushed again, wings trembling. "I didn't realize until you started to touch me. Please, Cas, please, I can't -."
"I have to do another lecture in twenty minutes, Dean," Castiel whispered, his voice low and stern enough to be warning. "Another Angel lecture. You knew this when you signed up." Dean let out a low, desperate whine, his eyes clenched tightly shut, and Castiel smiled slightly when he saw the first few puddles of oil forming around Dean's knees, the oil soaking the legs of his jeans and making them cling to his thighs. "Getting wet for me, baby?"
Dean opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strangled moan as the Angel buried his face against Castiel's chest, his warm breath puffing out hard and fast, his wings bristled and glistening with arousal. He was so beautiful, strung out like this, and Castiel wanted nothing more than to unhook Dean's wings and pull him into the closest storage room or on-call room and have his wicked way with him. Unfortunately, Castiel's job demanded that he stay in the room with Dean and continue to lecture.
"Want something to take the edge off?" Castiel whispered, moving from Dean's head, down his flank. One hand buried itself in the thick tawny-gold-black feathers, the other reached between his mate's legs, palming the obvious line of his throbbing cock. He groaned, feeling how soaking wet Dean was and how hard he was, even when the Angel whined and spread his legs further, lowering himself closer to the table surface as instinct demanded of him, to be mounted and fucked.
Within a moment Dean was shuddering, warmth spreading out against Castiel's hand as he came with a low groan. He was breathing like he'd been flying all day, sweaty and oil-slicked already, and Castiel swallowed and barely resisted the urge to bury his face in Dean's feathers and jack himself off, marking his mate in return. How in the world were the two of them meant to get through today, Dean in heat and already so desperate and strung out on his mating pheromones, and Castiel – not that far behind, if he was honest with himself.
He quickly unhooked his mate's wings and hauled Dean up, over to the shower. Luckily, he had anticipated this and had a spare change of clothes for Dean and had chosen the only lecture hall where there was a bathroom across the hall with one of the old crappy no-one-uses-these-anymore-but-we-can't-take-it-out showers. "Clean yourself up, Dean," he said gently, coaxing his mate into the shower and turning on the spray. The Angel shivered, his wings becoming sodden and even more soaking with the jets of water, and Castiel busied himself with grabbing a few ratty towels and a spare change of Dean's clothes. He also washed his hands and made sure he was rid of any and all oil from his skin to stop himself getting too distracted for the next series of lectures.
A low moan stopped him in his tracks when he stepped back into the bathrooms. He paused, eyes wide and gasped when he saw Dean through a gap in the shower curtain. The Angel had his wings mostly curled around himself, feathers heavy with water and oil, but the position wasn't enough to disguise the fast, harsh pumping of his own hand around his cock. His head was thrown back, eyes clenched tightly shut, the water beating down on his back and neck and running in thick rivulets down his shoulders, chest and wings. Castiel swallowed, licking his lips, his mouth gone dry as he watched his mate pleasure himself.
"Dean," he whispered, catching the Angel's attention. Eyes so green they almost glowed snapped to his and the Angel licked his lips again, his hand speeding up around himself. Castiel swallowed when another hand went behind him. Castiel didn't need to see to know what Dean was doing – the slight hitch of breath, the way his lashes fluttered with pleasure and his mouth went slack when he pushed the first finger into himself. "God damn it…"
"Cas," the Angel replied, falling forward so he was braced against the shower wall, facing Castiel. His hand left his cock to hold himself up, mindlessly pumping his hips forward as he concentrated on getting another finger inside of himself. "'M so fucking wet, man – gonna soak that whole damn lecture hall."
Castiel sucked in a sharp breath, his hand reaching down to palm himself through his scrubs. God, but he wasn't going to last any more than Dean was. "Saw you," he replied, eyes hooded as he sank his teeth into his lower lip, watching Dean's body go rigid, wings tensing and curling tightly in to himself as he jabbed at his prostate. "God, Dean, you looked so fucking hot. Was all I could do not to slam you down on that damn table and fuck you, right in front of all those medical students."
"I would've – shit," Dean gasped, eyes clenching tightly shut, shoulders tense and wings trembling. "I would've begged you – need you in me, want it so badly." He reached back further, his far wing flaring up high to allow him room as he tried to get a third finger inside, but the angle was too awkward and he couldn't go deep enough like that, and he let out a broken sound of frustration, opening his glowing eyes and snapping them to Castiel's face. "Damn it, Cas, I don't think I can -."
"Dean," Castiel interrupted, and the young Angel shuddered at the sound of his mate's powerful voice – the whiskey and sex 'I'm gonna eat you alive' drawl and low rasp that Castiel used whenever he was turned on. It hit Dean hard, that voice, and he trembled harder, his cock twitching where it hung, hot and heavy, between his legs. "Come, baby."
Just like that. That was all it took – Castiel's permission, his order. Dean's body obeyed instantly, the Angel sagging against the shower wall as his cock spasmed, spurting his release all over the wall only to have it be washed away by the water. Castiel knew from experience that Dean would be clenching on the inside, too, his walls so slick and tight to milk an Alpha's cock for its seed. He licked his lips, wanting to taste and feel Dean clenching around him.
But they didn't have time.
Dean was panting heavily by the time he managed to push himself upright, his mouth all slack, body loose and still very slightly shaking from his orgasm. He looked completely strung out, mating pheromones so potent that even the shower wasn't washing them away and the whole bathroom stank of them. Castiel swallowed, forcing himself to remain control when those glowing jade eyes fixed on him.
"I…" Dean trailed off, the high blush on his cheeks so pretty when he bit into his bottom lip and averted his eyes. Amazing, how Dean could still be so shy after their many years together.
Castiel smiled. "I've left some clothes and towels here for you. Clean up and get changed as soon as you can, and I'll focus on trying not to scar the next class." Dean's laughter followed him out of the door and across the hall. Castiel checked himself again to be sure that there were no lingering oil stains on him anywhere, and then set about wiping down the chains and table of Dean's oil, spraying air freshener so that most of the smell was covered by the clear, sharp smell of disinfectant. They had about ten more minutes before the next class started when Dean came back inside, wet hair sticking up every which way, fresh clothes on already starting to soak through.
"Sorry," he murmured, blushing a little when Castiel's eyes immediately went to his damp flanks. "I can't control it…"
"I know, baby," Castiel replied, smiling and drawing his mate forward for a chaste kiss. "Thank you, still, for staying with me. I know this will be hard but I'll make it worth your while."
"It's either here and actually have you touch me or go home and make do with my own hand until you get home. I'd rather be here," Dean replied with a one-shouldered shrug, nuzzling against Castiel's cheek with a small smile. "You smell awesome," he noted, snuffling into his mate's neck.
"Of course I do, I smell like you," Castiel replied with a laugh, pushing at Dean's head until the Angel released him with a huff. "Up on the table, I need to restrain you again."
"Kinky," Dean replied with a grin, his wings fluttering playfully and Castiel rolled his eyes, cranking the winch down again until the chains descended and he reattached Dean's wings before pulling them up again.
At that moment the door to the top of the classroom opened and several more students began to file in. Castiel checked his watch – they were a little early, but not too bad. He kept his attention on properly attaching Dean's chains until he felt his mate go completely rigid beside him. Curious and worried, he looked to Dean's face, found the young Angel's nostrils flared wide, his eyes glowing more brightly than they had before. His wings, exposed as they were, bristled in a mix of fear and arousal.
"Dean?" he asked cautiously, pressing his warm hand against his mate's shoulder.
"There's a dominant Angel," Dean replied, flashing scared eyes over to Castiel, who looked up to see what Dean was talking about. Sure enough, there was – tall, pale with silver-grey hair and bright, piercing blue eyes, his wings arching high over his head with the classic 'hooks' at the carpal joints – unstretched joints, Castiel saw. Dean began to shake, following his gaze and locking with that of the other Angel's. The chains groaned loudly when Dean tried to tuck his wings back to his sides, to hide his exposed underside.
Castiel placed a hand on the back of his neck. "I'll go talk to him," he whispered, understanding now why Dean was in such distress – with the way he was displayed, in heat as he was, it looked like a full-on proposition to the dominant Angel. "It's okay, Dean, I won't let anything happen to you."
Dean swallowed, eyes wide and afraid, his body curling in on itself as much as it could in his position, and Castiel hurriedly turned away, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the desk the Angel had chosen. He recognized the face from his roster – Balthazar.
"Your mate's in heat," Balthazar said by way of greeting, smiling up at Castiel.
The doctor nodded, pressing his lips together. "Is this going to be a problem?" he asked, his voice a little harsher than he'd meant it to be, but honestly his possessiveness of Dean ran thick enough without adding the strain of 'in heat' and 'dominant Angel' to it.
To his relief, the Angel laughed and shook his head. "Nah," he said, waving his hand. "I have a mate of my own. Yours is very pretty, but if I cheated on him he'd cut my junk off and make me eat it."
"Okay," Castiel replied, blinking, at a loss of anything else to say. "Well, good." He then turned around and made his way back to the table.
Dean blinked up at him, still tense and fearful. "Smell," Castiel whispered, holding out one of the halves of his lab coat which he knew would have taken some of the Angel's scent. Dean obediently nuzzled into it, letting the fabric drag across his cheek and forehead as he inhaled. "He's mated," Castiel said, and Dean nodded, humming softly, his body relaxing as he took in a mix of his mate's scent and the dominant's mate also. The scent of another submissive helped to calm and relax him, his feathers falling neatly back into place on his wings. Castiel smiled and brushed a hand through Dean's hair in praise, wishing he would reassure and love his mate as his pheromones are calling out for him to do – but the last student had arrived and he had to begin the lecture.
"Morning, everyone," he said a little too brightly. "My name is Doctor Novak, and I'll be your primary attending…"
The lecture passed slowly – too slowly for Dean, who felt like he was burning up from the inside. Every shift of weight, every movement of one of Castiel's hands through the air as he talked, or through his feathers, or the lulling, dark, deep sound of his voice…Dean wasn't exactly known for his restraint at the best of times, and by the time the second lecture finished he was just about ready to start peeling off his skin simply because any sensation would be better than feeling this heat, this big, heavy, unsatisfied need curling up in his stomach, in his cock, making kneeling here and not being able to do anything about it a downright agony.
"Not for nothing," Balthazar said at the end of the lecture, coming up and grabbing Castiel's wrist. "But you should really take him home. Or at least take him somewhere out of the way for a while during lunch. He's, um…" The Angel stopped, taking in a slight breath, and that was all Castiel needed to know. "I happen to know that there are three Angels in the next lecture and only one of them is mated. Even then…"
"I understand," Castiel replied after a second, not daring to let his eyes move to his soaking, needy mate. He might just snap and take Dean right here – the scent of the submissive Angel was driving him wild even with his paltry human senses. "I'll see you tomorrow." The Angel nodded, smiling a little, and turned to leave. He was the last one out of the door.
"Cas." Dean's needy voice shattered all pretense for control when the man turned back around. God, but Dean was gorgeous – his jeans were stuck to his thighs, slick from his ass and wings soaking his clothes so that it was more like a second skin than actual clothes.
"God, Dean," Castiel whispered in reply, crossing the distance to his mate in two short strides and palming the base of his wings roughly, earning a reedy little whine from the Angel. "Sorry, baby, so sorry – can't wait -."
"Don't want you to. Fuck me, Cas," Dean said, arching his back and flaring his wings high, arms stretched out to curl over the edge of the table as he spread his legs as far as they could go and presented to Castiel. The man bit back a low growl of want, hooking his fingers in Dean's slick clothes and pulling him back so his ass was just off the edge of the low table.
"Stand, Dean," he growled sharply and the submissive Angel's shoulders bowed, his legs carefully but quickly sliding off the wet table and hitting the ground. He locked his knees and braced himself that way, Castiel wasting no time in peeling off his clothes and baring Dean's slick entrance to the cool air of the lecture hall.
Dean shivered, the air feeling like ice against his overheated skin. "Please, Cas," he whined, fingers curling into the table hard enough to crack the varnish when Castiel didn't immediately touch him – God, he just needed. Didn't even need prep; his entrance was slick and loose, ready for his Alpha's cock but Castiel just wasn't giving it to him. "Come on…"
"Easy, baby," Castiel replied, his hand warm right between Dean's wings on the center of his back. The Angel mewled, a broken sound spilling from his mouth, his wings and body trembling with the effort to hold still, to wait for his mate. "Just wanna…wanna make this last…" Dean's eyes fell closed when finally – God, finally – he felt the blunt head of Castiel's cock tease at his entrance, the slick allowing him to slip inside easily like a knife through hot butter. "Shit, didn't want it to be over too soon."
"That's what round two's are for," Dean snapped in reply, arching his back to try and force Castiel to do deeper. The man hissed, his fingers gripping into Dean's hips tightly, cupping the spur as he rocked forward tighter into his mate's tight, wet heat. "God damn it, Cas -." The rest of the sentence was cut off by a low moan when Castiel bottomed out with a sharp thrust, their skin slapping together in the otherwise quiet room. Dean's whole body was positively glowing in satisfaction. "That's it…"
"You like that?" Castiel whispered, leaning forward to brace both his hands into Dean's thickly meshed feathers, tugging them just hard enough to elicit a low whine out of his mate, a point of leverage when he pulled out and thrust forward again, harder – hard enough to make Dean's stomach slide across the table edge, the rough burn a counterpoint to the burning need in his ass and settled low in the base of his spine.
"Cas," he begged again, whining loudly when the man thrust again, hitting his prostate and staying there while one oil-slick hand reached around and started jacking the young Angel quickly. "Cas Cas Cas…" That was it – a constant litany of the man's name while Dean desperately shoved his head against the table, a low sound of need wrenched from him as he tensed up completely.
Slick gushed out from Dean's untouched glands and Castiel reached for them, milking them as he rolled his hips deeper into his mate, riding out Dean's orgasm as he fought back his own. Dean trembled underneath him, low mewls and desperate cries of his name muffled by the tabletop as he tensed, relaxed, flared his wings high.
"I got you, baby," Castiel whispered to the soft feathers by his face as he bent over his mate, licking at a stray clump of down and making Dean whimper softly. "That's it, easy…"
"I…" Dean gasped as another painful aftershock flashed through him, arching away from Castiel's touch, chains loudly clinking as he tried to curl up in his wings and hide the sensitive underside. "What are you doing?"
"We have three more lectures after lunch," Castiel whispered in reply. "I need to milk you, Dean – it'll make the ache easier."
"That's a bunch of -." Dean moaned, cutting himself off as Castiel pressed extra hard, forcing more oil from the glands, sucked dry and now no larger than the seed of an apple. "You haven't…" Dean shifted, able to still feel Castiel fully seated inside of him. "Cas -."
He stuttered when Castiel, suddenly and without warning, pulled out of him. The Angel whined, struggling to stand properly and see where his mate had gone, but his weak and shaking arms wouldn't support him and then suddenly there was the weight of his tired wings on top of him as well. He collapsed back onto the table, trembling, sweaty and covered in oil.
Before he could recover, Castiel was back, his hands just as demanding and greedy when he laid them on Dean – his flanks and hips – and thrust back inside. "Oh God," Dean moaned, gripping the edges of the table tightly and trying not to let himself get slammed into the edge. "Cas."
"Didn't want you…" Castiel panted, thrusting deep into Dean and pulling back out just as quickly, selfish with his own orgasm now, Dean's body so pliant and loose and willing and needy, clenching down on his cock to try and milk him, breed him. "…strung up like that, like a demonstration or tool or something…" Castiel bent forward, his warm breath on the back of Dean's neck, hands braced, slick and sliding, on the tabletop next to Dean's, the Angel lacing their hands together to stop Castiel from losing his balance. "Wanted you just like this – so gorgeous, my gorgeous mate, all mine…"
Dean whined, tilting his hips up to receive Castiel, sensing that he was close by the rough-drag of his voice down Dean's spine, the way Castiel pressed his stubble-rough jaw hard against the back of Dean's neck, teeth bared and biting, claiming.
He'll be so messy, Dean thought through the delirious haze of his heat, before Castiel slammed home, coming with a low, dark growl that sent a shiver down Dean's spine, his body practically sighing in pleasure as he felt his Alpha's seed fill him, his in-heat body telling him to breed. The sheer relief when that need was sated usually made the whole damn heat bearable.
After a moment, Dean shifted, his wings falling, limp and weak, down his flanks and onto the floor. "Thank God for lunchtime," he muttered, words still slurring like he was drunk. Castiel choked on a soft laugh.
"Yeah." He nuzzled into the back of his mate's neck, licking at Dean's sweat-damp hair, making the Angel purr and arch under him when his hands moved to Dean's chest, pressed up so he could feel more lines of his mate against his body. His cock jerked one more time, spilling his last into Dean, before he was too soft to stay inside. "You hungry?" he asked, knowing Dean must at least be dehydrated from the amount of oil he was leaking.
Dean hummed, too strung-out to really care that he was half-naked in a lecture hall, soaked to the core in his oil – too fucked out to give a crap about anything, really, even his own last name, let alone hunger. "Yeah," he finally said, coming to the conclusion that that gnawing feeling in his gut was not the heat resurfacing too soon, but a throb in his demanding stomach. "But I ain't movin'."
Castiel chuckled, coming around to Dean's head and hauling his lazy, fucked-out mate up so Dean was sitting on the very edge of the tabletop, loose and almost asleep, his body glowing in the post-orgasmic haze. "Let's get you cleaned up, at least," Castiel coaxed gently, brushing Dean's hair from his face and drawing his mate into a lazy kiss, mouths licking open, tongues sliding together.
"Hmm…" Dean's mouth curled into a smile, that familiar mischievous green glow starting in his eyes again. "Shower sex?" he hazarded, eyes flashing.
Castiel laughed. "If it's quick," he replied, kissing Dean again and hauling him to his feet. The Angel sucked in a breath, eyes already going dark again when Castiel stepped close and pulled his jeans and underwear back up, soaked material sticking to his skin and dragging roughly over sensitive, wet flesh. Castiel put himself away and took Dean's hand, leading him back towards that bathroom.
"Or…" Dean paused, turning Castiel around once they were inside of the bathrooms and pushing his mate up against the wall, eyes hooded and smirk large on his face, his fingers spreading out wide and warm across Castiel's chest and down his abdomen. "…we could skip lunch and I could just eat you."
"Dean -." Castiel was cut off, then, as the Angel sank to his knees right in front of the doctor, and he growled, cupping his Angel's head when Dean leaned forward, those glowing green eyes still fixed on his face, and mouthed at Castiel through his scrubs. "You're gonna kill me," he muttered, his cock twitching already in response to Dean's potent mating pheromones.
Dean's only response was a low, dark laugh, lashes fluttering as he smiled and proceeded to pull down Castiel's scrub bottoms, and anything else the doctor would have said was lost when he was engulfed by Dean's talented mouth.
Needless to say, they were a little late for the next lecture.