anon asked for dean/cas, rough sex
it’s like, a new year’s gift to everyone.
dean/castiel, ~2,100 words, nc-17
very porny. veeeryyyyyy porny.
It starts at the Impala, parked perfectly between two lines. Maybe Dean purposely sent Sam on a nightlong goose chase throughout town in search of suspects. Sometimes, he needs privacy from his brother. That’s not a big deal, is it?
Castiel is quick and unhesitant, wrapping his fingers tight around Dean’s wrist as he drags him from the car (it’s obvious he was impatient, waiting for Dean to return to the motel), but Dean doesn’t mind, especially when Castiel twists him around, pressing his chest into the car door.
Dean’s already breathing heavily, smiling as Cas growls, “Get inside,” to him. Cas, however, is the one who does the yanking, pulling Dean away from the car and towards the motel room. Dean stumbles after him, without the grace of an angel, and it only takes a flick of Castiel’s wrist for the door to their room to fly open.
Castiel has him shoved against the wall before he can get a word in edge wise, not even a crack about Castiel being way to into it – Dean loses his train of thought anyway, finding it’s much easier and more pleasant to focus on Castiel’s lips crushed against his, the taste of hot tongue and the fingers that have somehow managed to grip his cock.
His hips buck forward and Dean swears as his head hits the wall, grabbing at Cas’ trench coat.
“Undress,” Castiel says, stepping back and pulling his hand from Dean’s jeans. Dean holds himself up against the wall, still nearly sliding down as he tries to regain his footing. He follows the order once his head clears enough to digest it, starting with his heavier jacket – he throws it towards the door – then his button up – which lands more sloppily a couple of feet from the bed. He finally pulls his t-shirt over his head, and he can feel Cas’ eyes on him, but he ignores them, paying more attention to getting his boots off. As he slides his jeans over his hips and down his thighs, he can’t help but make quick eye contact with Castiel.
He flinches and looks away immediately, a flush creeping up his neck. This is stupid. But it still affects him.
Cas steps closer, crowds him against the wall with one hand pressed next to his face, and they kiss. It’s slow and filthy and Dean slides easily between Dean’s knees, Dean’s erection rubbing up against the fabric.
He wants to jerk forward, but Cas is pinning him firmly against the wall and he relaxes instead, breathing in when Castiel moves to suck bruises into his throat.
It doesn’t last, though, and Castiel manhandles him easily across the room, pushing him face first into the bed. Dean’s about to roll over onto his back when Castiel’s hand finds his spine, keeping him there. It’s terrifying for a second, but Dean turns his face to the side and he can see Castiel hovering over him, close, and then there are lips pressed against his neck and shoulders, and down, to the top of his spine; then down further, fingers trailing over his body. Cas no longer holds him down but he stays on his stomach, taking deep breaths, calculating each movement as it sparks against his skin.
Castiel reaches over Dean’s body and pulls the lube from inside the dresser drawer where they always store it for nights like these – as he’s slicking up his fingers, Dean’s cock pulses and he has to grit his teeth. He’s never been a very good waiter, and it’s always been Castiel that makes him have to wait the longest.
Castiel places his non-lubed hand on the back of Dean’s neck and squeezes lightly. Dean pulls himself up the bed, giving Cas room to move between his legs. He can’t help the undignified noise that comes out when Castiel tugs his legs apart and dips his head down to kiss the bottom of his spine, mouth lingering. He doesn’t really have time to consider it, however, before a cold and slick finger circles the rim of his hole, slowly sliding in. Dean takes a moment to adjust to the sensation, and Castiel moves slowly, crooking his finger in further, up the knuckle, before he slips it almost all the way out. Dean bites on his lip and grips the sheets, grinding his ass back against the one finger as Cas drives it into him again. It’s not enough.
“Dean.” Cas’ voice is stiff and low, bordering on being demanding. Dean tries to crane his neck to look at Castiel but he suddenly reaches down and grips his throat, keeping him still. “Don’t move.”
This is Castiel challenging him, and he bites down on his cheek to keep from protesting. Castiel doesn’t say anything else as he begins to fuck Dean with two fingers, stretching him open slowly and lazily, screwing his fingers and twisting them when he wants, Dean still held down by his neck. Normally, Dean doesn’t take it, doesn’t like, likes to romp around and push back. With Cas it’s always been a little different, always been him a bit more shaken, because he wants to listen. He wants to be good enough.
Castiel spreads his fingers apart inside Dean and then slides them in deeper, rubbing against Dean’s prostate. His hips jerk involuntarily and Castiel squeezes his neck again, cutting off his supply of air for almost three full seconds. Dean is gasping and there are stars on his eyelids when Cas lets go and starts to drive his fingers in and out more insistently, fucking him harder.
Dean has to strain to keep still, too much tension in his muscles, inside his body. He fists the sheets and holds on tight, but the teasing doesn’t stop, Castiel fingering him slow, steadily and relentlessly. Dean chokes when Cas drips lube on his fingers again, slicking them up to slide a third into Dean.
Dean grits his teeth and Cas twists his fingers, making his thrusts shallower into Dean, but still stretching him out. Dean’s starting to feel muscles that shouldn’t ache beginning to ache, and he turns his head to press his forehead into the sheets.
“Dean,” comes Castiel’s voice, and Dean nearly collapses under the sudden careful press of weight against his back, the hot lips on his shoulders, shudders racing down his spine as the fingers that aren’t fucking him trace over his skin. “You’re doing very well. Just stay relaxed.”
The praise sinks into Dean and makes his heart pound extra hard, which is embarrassing, something that Castiel probably can tell by being so close. He starts to clench and unclench his fingers, focusing on that feeling instead of the drag of Cas’ long fingers inside, the feel of him up to his knuckles, taking his time, making Dean wait for it.
But Dean has gotten much better at the weighting game, and he stays still, despite the sweat on his skin.
Castiel removes his fingers suddenly and Dean’s body jerks again involuntarily, losing his breath at the sudden emptiness. He whimpers and bites into the sheets (the pillow is still further up the bed), but still listens as Castiel undoes his jeans. Dean waits, letting go of the sheets and holding himself up a little bit further with his elbows, and one of Castiel’s hands finds his hips, pulling him back, and then wraps around his upper thigh. There’s a quiet moment before Cas moves again, and Dean hears him slicking himself with lube.
Castiel’s dick nudges at Dean, in between his ass cheeks, and Dean is able to keep almost completely still besides the slightly quivering of his entire body. Castiel squeezes his thigh and shifts forward to press his leg against Dean, until he’s close enough that Dean starts to feel the head of Cas’ cock against his rim, slowly pushing inside.
The stretch is familiar but still painful, the wetness only feeling miniscule as Dean scrambles to get a grip and has to bite into the sheets again, body too tense. “Relax,” comes Castiel’s voice against his skin, and then a painful pinch in his thigh. Dean twitches but listens, one by one letting his muscles loosen until Castiel can push in further.
When he bottoms out, Dean expects him to stay there. But things change rapidly and Castiel’s hips pull back, cock dragging out of Dean, before snapping back. It’s the quickest anyone ever fucked him and Dean shouts out in pain as his body jerks forward, moving up the bed.
“Fuck!” he snarls, but Castiel hasn’t stopped, holding Dean tight as he slams his hips back, fucking hard into Dean; no pause, not even a second’s hesitation. Dean shuts his eyes and Cas starts to pick up a rhythm, Dean’s body jerking forward with every thrust, the hand back on his neck, rubbing his skin with precise gentleness.
Dean’s still gripping the sheets but his dick is twitching uselessly with every time Cas drives into him, and he needs to move. “Cas,” he grinds out, and Castiel’s fingernails dig into the skin of his thigh and his neck, sharp pain that makes Dean jerk and gasp and roll his hips back into Castiel’s until they’re properly in sync, Castiel’s hand moving to grip his hair and pull his head up, Dean still grinding back.
Castiel is pulling though – seriously yanking at his hair – and Dean pushes himself up so that their backs are pressed together, both on their knees as Castiel fucks him with hard thrusts. Without losing the rhythm, Castiel manages to push Dean up against the headboard, and he places his hands on the wall to keep himself up. They’d already gotten over halfway up the bed, and now he’s got one leg on the pillow, chest and stomach pressed against cheap polished wood, hands on peeling paint.
Castiel’s mouth finds his throat and he sinks his teeth into the skin, not quite breaking but enough that Dean feels the pain flood him, his cock twitching.
“Cas,” he breathes, and Castiel gets the hint, hand moving from his thigh to wrap his fingers around Dean’s cock. He jerks in quick, long strokes, each falling in time with his hips driving into Dean, fucking him senseless. The hand he uses is slick with lube from earlier, and Dean’s cock slides easily in his grip, through his fist in jerks. “Cas,” Dean manages again, hips bucking forward into Castiel’s hand and he jacks him off harder, more insistent. “Fuck,” Dean whispers, and he reaches back to grip at Cas’ arm around his waist, digging his nails into his skin.
He tilts his head back and they kiss, sloppy and wet and messy, but still enough; Cas’ hand so tight on his cock and being fucked – Dean can’t hold it together, and his orgasm is sudden but still expected, crashing over him like a wave, making his entire body go stiff and then still.
His head hits the wall as he comes into Castiel’s open palm, feels his muscles clenching and unclenching around Cas’ dick, the uncomfortable sensation of overstimulation, the inability to breath.
Castiel’s hand rests in his hair again and his thrusts are slowing, more purposeful, almost careful in their movement, not at a pace where Dean can feel everything, feel the way Cas is inside him, every drag against his skin, every frayed nerve in his body.
He comes just as quietly, one last roll of his hips into Dean and Dean can feel it, heat and all the buildup pooled inside of him, Castiel with a hand on his hip, his lips on Dean’s shoulder. Dean tangles his fingers in Castiel’s hair and holds onto him tight, keeping him there as Cas twitches slightly with the aftershocks. His entire body is aching, and he’s sure he’ll have marks tomorrow morning.
Dean gasps when Cas pulls out, and then suddenly he feels so tired and aching that he simply wants to collapse and fall asleep.
Cas pulls him back gently, resting Dean on his back against the bed and crawling on top of him to kiss him. Dean kisses Cas back, pleased although tired, and doesn’t bother to question the fact that Cas is already back in his pants. They remain like that, kissing slow and careful, until Dean’s lips are swollen and numb, and he tilts his head away. “Cas,” he mumbles, and tangles his hands in Cas’ hair again.
Castiel just kisses his neck.