Word count: 2459
Summary: Just a shameless PWP, really.
Author's note: This is my second (and last) fill for blindfold_spn, and it was originally posted here. Original prompt was: ''A completely naked Cas (I would love his wings out) rides a fully-clothed Dean's lap. Dean opens his pants just enough to pull his cock out, coaxes Cas to finger himself open with lube (Dean usually takes care of that), and then Cas rides his cock. Cas should be hesitant and shy and slightly confused, but on board with it all.''
Also, this one too had no beta. All mistakes are my own :)
He finds himself naked in a motel room, right in the middle of it and without a scrap of fabric to cover himself with. He's been trying to experience the full human experience without really being one, so while yesterday he tried to have dinner (and found that yes, he still loves cheeseburgers too much), tonight was the time to try a shower.
But he lacks experience in this and he forgot the change of clothes Dean put aside for him on the bed before going in. Lacking a sense of decency anyway, he doesn't even consider to find a towel and learn how to drape it on his waist, so that is why he gets out of the bathroom butt naked and wet with steam enveloping him like a warm halo.
Dean looks up from where he's sitting on a chair by the table doing his research and it doesn't matter how long they've been doing this (not enough) and how often he finds himself naked in his presence (should be more), the way Dean's eyes darken following the long line of his body makes Castiel wish they could abandon their life for a while and just enjoy each other until exhaustion.
He goes to move towards the bed to get his clothes back but he's stopped mid stride by Dean's arm, shooting out to grab his wrist and pull him towards him where he's sitting.
''Dean—'' he starts, but he's cut off by Dean's other hand coming up to his waist, caressing his hipbone and steering him in between his open legs.
''I want to look at you Cas'', Dean says. ''You don't walk around naked and wet near enough.''
Castiel doesn't really know what to say; while that's certainly true it is so because when there's nakedness involved they're usually draped over a flat surface, making the most of their time together and fucking each other senseless.
He's never been under Dean's scrutiny so openly before. While human decency is not part of what he is, he finds himself shifting uneasily under Dean's hands, almost fearing the conclusions he might come to after such an attentive study of this body.
Castiel doesn't feel shyness as a rule. He doesn't care how he looks like even if now this body is completely his to keep. But Dean has a way of looking through him that makes him feel like razor beams are cutting through his skin and muscle, uncovering everything underneath.
His train of thought is interrupted the moment Dean's hand, moving up and then descending from his sternum, spiraling down his belly, finds him and starts stroking. It's nothing nearly enough to get him off, but Castiel loves the way Dean touches him and loves the way his gaze is now completely focused on his cock, still wet from the shower and gradually filling up.
A moan escapes him and Dean looks up. He's flushed and grinning and still very much clothed, circling Castiel with his spread legs like he's completely at ease and there's no where else he needs to be.
And that is not so far from the truth, as far as Castiel can see.
''Dean—'' Castiel whispers, because he wants more. He always wants more and Dean's always there to give it to him. ''—Please.''
Dean smiles and keeps stroking with the same rhythm, nice and slow and easy, nothing hurried in his movements.
''What Cas?'' He says, grinning wickedly and holding the power to himself, unwilling to share.
''More'', he says, because he doesn't really need so say anything else, not with the way he's breathing is picking up, the way his cock is standing straight in front of Dean's face, reaching up and up towards his lips with a mind of its own.
But all Dean does at that is huff an amused breath and thumb the head of his cock, spreading his pleasure down Castiel's shaft in one long, slow downward motion, dragging a sound out of his throat that he wouldn't define as human.
''Go on Cas—'' Dean says, humming contentedly, ''Touch yourself.''
The problem with Castiel is that when Dean talks to him, there's nothing else in the world that could hold his attention. If Dean asks him to do something, he considers it and turns it in his head over and over before deciding if giving in. But when Dean talks to him like that, with a voice that's just a dark rumble rising from the cage that is his body, Castiel is powerless. An all consuming desire to just satisfy Dean and his every whim takes him and there's nothing he can do but beg for more.
He lifts his right hand and lets it crawl down his body to his cock, brushing Dean's fingers when they come down pumping him mercilessly. He's glistening and gloriously hard and he needs the speed and friction of his own hand putting up a show for Dean if that's what he wants.
But Dean's other hand comes up and swats his own away; with a disapproving noise he looks him in the eyes and says ''Not there. Between your legs. Prepare yourself for me Cas.''
And it's so intimate and warm and rough at the same time, so Dean-like to ask him to do this, to ask him to abandon all pretense of control and just give in and expose himself so fully, that even though he's never done this himself before he nods. Nods yes and lifts his hand again, this time in front of Deans face, expectant.
They keep staring at each other and without a word Dean opens his mouth, tongue coming out to gently lap at Cas' fingertips, keeping up with stroking his dick without losing his rhythm. Little kitty licks to the tips of his fingers and than Dean just takes two in, sucking and lavishing them, until Castiel feels them at the back of Deans throat.
He lets out a groan and just like that Dean squeezes him tight, sucking on his hand and milking him like that's all he was supposed to do with his life.
Castiel's head falls back and suddenly the air shifts and his wings are free to open up and spread behind him; spreading wide like his legs in the space Dean allows him at the same time. His fingers slip away from Dean's mouth then, a thin strip of saliva stretching between them for a second while Dean presses a small, chaste kiss in the soft spot of his wrist, over his pulse point.
He moans at the sight and his wings shiver, invisible to the human eye. That's his only regret, for Dean never to be able to see how completely he owns him, to the point that his very essence, timeless and powerful, comes out to vibrate under his touch.
He's not really sure how to proceed now, but then Dean talks again in a soft murmur, coaxing him step by step. ''Come on Cas, go for it.''
He nods again and reaches behind to touch, probing with slicked up fingers and circling himself, losing every inhibition he might have left for Dean's benefit. For Dean, who's hand now has left his hip and is fondling his balls while the other keeps stroking him, up and down and up again, thumb pressing under the head, running up the slit and catching a drop of pre-come, totally fascinating by what he's seeing.
Dean is still completely dressed and as one finger breaches him Castiel groans deep in his throat and looks down at the bulge straining Dean's jeans, powerful and ready.
His finger pumps him slowly, then more to the rhythm Dean's setting on his cock. It only takes a minute and a second one is there to stretch him further, scissoring and pleasuring him like he never did before. He's a mess of desire and lust and completely at the mercy of what Dean wants, what he expects of him.
Castiel is perfectly ok with this, but he definitely needs more.
Apparently so does Dean, because through the silence of the room Castiel can hear him panting, his breath coming out in short rasps as he repeats a litany of encouragement his way.
''Yeah Cas...yeah. Like that, open up—'' he groans and starts pumping faster while Castiel impales himself on his fingers. ''Fuck Cas, you have no idea what you look like spreading out like this, do you?''
Castiel whimpers and shakes his head, embarrassment so foreign to him he doesn't really know what to do with it.
''You look...fuck you look so good—''
Castiel grits his teeth through the noise that comes crawling out of his body when Dean just takes him in his mouth, swallowing him whole in one long motion, chocking up on his cock and fondling his balls. His head bobs up and down, no real rhythm except the one dictated by lust and the imminent need to satisfy. He slurps his way down, sucks his way up, a mess of filthy noises coming from his mouth.
It's too much and not enough. ''Dean—'' Cas babbles, because by now he's way beyond the point of coherence. His free hand finds Dean's head and he grips his hair, pulling and stroking and just burying his fingers in the short strands.
Dean comes up one last time, sucking on the plump, purple head of Cas' cock long and hard, and then lifts his head to look at him.
He keeps his eyes trained on Cas' and goes to pull down the fly of his jeans. He takes his dick out, straining towards his belly and beautifully flushed, fat and ready and just so perfect that Castiel can't help to lick his lips. He's still clutching at Dean's hair when he hears him say ''Are you ready?'' in a chocked gasp, voice scraped raw buy the push of Cas' cock in the back of his throat.
Castiel doesn't waste any time answering, he just takes his fingers out of himself, huffing in discomfort at the loss, and moves more into Dean's space. Dean strokes himself, pumping slowly and sweetly while Castiel moves his legs to encircle him.
Dean's hands finally land on his hips as Castiel straddles him, settling on his jean clad legs and taking hold of his erection through the v of his pants. It's hot and hard and ready, and Castiel loses no time pulling hard on Dean's hair, pushing his head back and kissing him deep and filthy, licking his way into that perfect mouth of his while he drops himself onto him, one long descent until he's completely filled up.
He swallows Dean's cry of pleasure, fisting his hair and scraping at his scalp, and starts riding him for good. There's nothing in the world like this. Nothing could equate the pleasure he gets in getting Dean so hot and ready and at his mercy, moving restlessly, bouncing on his cock and sucking on his tongue with a passion, just because he can.
He has control, now. His wings open up even more, flare behind him and make a perfect dome around them, protecting from anything who might wait outside. Shielding them in a perfect cocoon made of pleasure.
He feels Dean inside him, feels him pushing up and up until there's nowhere else to go, until the teeth of his fly press on his ass and it's so good it almost hurts. He keeps kissing him, keeps taking and taking while his hand roams his upper body, clad in a black t-shirt starting to become drenched in sweat. He fits his hand in the cotton, pulling on its side and uncovering a slice of skin over Dean's collar bone. He finds skin with the tip of his fingers and he plants blunt nails in it, hard and deep like Dean pumping up inside him.
A muffled cry comes from Dean when he leaves his mouth to nip at the skin, to trace the line of his neck up to his ear, nibbling and biting his way up. He abandon's Dean's hair somewhat reluctantly to go in search for more contact, sliding down his side and slipping under the shirt, gripping him firmly and feeling the bumps of his ribs through layers of muscle and skin.
Sweat slides down the smooth extent of flesh, drenching Dean's side and Castiel's fingertips while they trace their impossible patterns on this body so beautiful, so perfect that Castiel took immense care in putting back together like it was a masterpiece of art.
He feels Dean's legs coil with power then, his feet planting more firmly to the ground for leverage as he starts lifting himself with every relentless push inside Cas' body, hitting him just right, just perfect and gripping the naked skin of his back right where his wings sprout.
''Dean—'', Cas wines in the crook of his neck, pushing down on him and up again, cock brushing on the soft material of his clothes, rubbed raw and pressed between them, dripping in the cotton and making a mess of it.
He pushes himself even closer into Dean and if he didn't know it was impossible Cas would think they'd be soon occupying the same space, defying the rules of physics like they did everything else around them.
His legs circling Dean's waist, his cock rubbing and poking Dean's belly, full to the last molecule of his body with Dean's essence Castiel can't take it and deliriously starts shaking and sucking on Dean's neck, murmuring nonsense in the safe haven of warmth and sweat he finds there.
''Come on Cas,'' Dean moans, encouragement in the pants he lets loose in between rough pushes into his body. ''Come on''.
He feels a hand intruding between them then and it's only a moment before the hot, tight press of Dean's palm find his erection.
Castiel rides furiously a couple of more times then, fucking himself on Deans cock and up into his hand at the same time, until he bites down and finally, finally comes, striping white over Dean's black shirt, painting him in pleasure.
He feels himself pulsing in the cage of Dean's fingers, idly aware of the fact that Dean is moaning low, pulsing the same, unbelievable rhythm inside him.
Warm, delicious wetness fills Castiel at the same time as he empties himself, and he collapses on Dean's limp form, breathing deeply through the layers of fabric still covering his body.
His wings relax, dropping around them and eventually retiring in the recess of his mind, and the last lucid thought the has before slipping through unconscious bliss is for Dean's arms encircling him and keeping him close to his chest.