Archive of Our Own ^beta

This sucks. It's hot, humid, damn bright outside and Dean's stuck in this cramped motel room. He's itching to get out and do something or just do something here but three’s a crowd.

“It could be anything,” the overgrown third man leans back and scowls, “a hundred monsters fit the bill.”

“So does a golden retriever,” the pretty Angel deadpans from the side.

Dean bites his cheeks to keep from laughing, then turns, “Yeah? Kinda specific.”

Huge sapphires roll and land on him, “You quite literally an affinity for balls. Is there another creature you think is more apt?”

Dying just like 83% inside, Dean adds double gruffness to his tone, “No, just weird, that's all I'm saying.”

Sam's an ass and snickers, “Oh yeah, heard that loud and clear. Alright, four people dead, one missing, we need to move fast. Ah, two hours?”

Dean is already stuffing his duffel bag, “Hour n’ a half, it's a straight shot. Cas, you, uh, sticking around?”

The gorgeous beast– the Angel FFS is peering at Sam’s laptop, “This sounds quintessential Winchester. You don't need me.”

Oh, if only the guy knew. Can't say that, fuck.

Here comes his brother for an assist, “Dude, you're our best friend, so unless you've got plans, come hang for a bit.” That was weak and basic, just a blanket ask.

Of course Cas smiles at Sam, ugh, “That's thoughtful. Alright, I'll ‘hang.’”

Torn between annoyance and desperation, Dean is trying to not react to those quotey fingers. Just omg. Nope, he concentrates on… WTF is he doing? Ah, right, stuffing dirty laundry into a duffel bag. Awesome. “Awesome.” Word smith over here.

Sam snaps his laptop shut and gets to his giant feet, “Thanks! Alright, soon as this princess finishes–.”

“Screw you “

“– his whining, wheels up. Ha!” Sam dodges a backhand from Dean, “I'm gonna grab whatever the continental breakfast offers. Cas, want anything?”

“No, thank you.”

The room’s door slams and the sweat beads on Dean’s temple and lower back, always does. He wants to say something, to say 40 things, but his tongue is more tangled than a Gordian knot.

A fine ass Angel looms just in front of him, “If you don't want me here or with you, just say so.”

Fingers tingle in the wrong way, Dean refuses to look up, “Nothing like that. I'm happy to see you, man.”

“It would be nice to interact outside of a hunt, though I am aware of your preferences. I'll find you in Mason,” and just whoosh the stud is gone.

No, Dean isn't pouting and sure AF ain't salty. He knows the Angel is busy and it's not like he can just hang around all the time. The sexy– the guy has literal battles to handle, can't just sit on Dean's shoulder all day every day. Huh, if wishes were pennies. And Dean catches himself with a swift steel toed kick in the ass.

Time passes, miles fly faster, and they're parked across the street from the main entrance to a country club. But they're doing it right this time. Holding out his hand, “Let's do it, I win, I don't touch food unless it's going in my mouth.”

Sam doesn't even look up from his phone “Idiot. The entire thing is centered around tennis, you refuse to even consider it a sport. You could never make this work.”

“Pff, c'mon, I can slap balls around as good as anyone.” Wait…

His brother snickers, “You said it.”

“Don't you dare!”

“Calm down, man, your secret is safe with me… and everyone else who knows.”

Dean flushes even while swinging to smack his brother but the asshole is out the door. Dammit.

“Hey!”

“Have you ever tried this?” That's Cas’ voice and sure enough the powerhouse is standing on the blacktop and… and bouncing a tennis ball on a racquet? “The repetition can be monotonous and easily replicated with minimal effort, but this,” the Angel twists a bit and the ball goes high, there's a whirl of trench coat and the racquet catches it like a trampoline, “is a simple shift of angle that has the ball excited like an electron.”

While Sam laughs, Dean kinda gulps to swallow copious drool. Managing words is rough, “Didn't know you were a ball guy.” Oh WTF.

Cas just looks at him with that penetrating stare omg why is Dean thinking that word? “Everyone has interests, Dean. What's the plan?”

Dean has nothing, just clears his throat as Sam gives a rundown. Except… “Wait, what?”

“It makes sense, this is our play,” Sam has his excited face on, “Cas, can you do it?”

“I do have superb control of my body, there is nothing humans can do that I can't.”

Dean gulps and tries to corral the images flashing through his thirsty brain.

Sam chuckles, “Not calling it a vessel anymore?”

“No,” Cas rubs a hand down his broad chest and that is distracting. Huh, when did that happen? Could've been the guy was lean and kinda svelte before, but now– focus. “This is mine, I've become intrinsically attached to this body and form, this is my identity.”

“Wow, alright.”

“It's a fine one,” was that okay to say? And we're moving on, “When did you learn to play tennis?”

“While you and Sam argued over jalapenos versus hot sauce.”

Dean blusters, “So you listened in but didn't drop in? That's like screening calls!”

Bright sapphires land on him, “I always look before entering, generally for your benefit.”

“Me? The hell are you talking about?”

“Your sensitivity to personal space. Unless out of safety concerns, of course I ‘screen calls' with you.”

“Yeah,” Sam is having way too much fun, “I’ve learned to do the same, it's better than needing to burn my own eyes out.”

“Sam.”

“Sorry. Ah, okay, you're now Cass Turner, relocated from Cantigny, a new elite member. I'm reusing Wesson from the holding company for an audit–.”

“Nerd.”

“And Dean Eaton is working the kitchen.”

“Like hell!”

“Dude, there are no other openings except caddy.”

“I can haul a bag around, I’ve been doing it every day with you.”

Sam huffs, “Jerk. That won't help us, all the victims played tennis, not golf.”

“Neither of those things are real sports,” but his eyes keep landing on a certain someone still toying with a racquet.

“Right, because there are no helmets needed, I knew it. At least in the kitchen you'll hear–.”

“I'm with Cas.” Holy shit, did he just say that? And here goes his desperate tongue again, “Make that membership a duo, y'know family package or something.”

“I don't think you can pass as brothers.”

“No, I'm saying,” sweat, so much sweat, “spouse package. Someone's got to have Cas’ back, a place like this is full of cougars ready to pounce on a sexy bachelor. He can show off his suddenly acquired skills n’ I'll keep the Stepfords away.”

“Dean,” just the way Cas always says his name, fuck, “the plan won't work if you're so uncomfortable.”

“I'm good, I swear. Just, uh, are you? Y'know, you good with pretending to be Mr. & Mr.?”

Those big eyes always hold so much but for the life of him, Dean can't read them right now. Only like three week-long seconds later, the Angel looks away, “This attire won't do.”

Whoosh

“Oh, c'mon!”

Sam scoffs, “You're an idiot.”

“Shaddup. Can you make it work?”

“Yeah. Listen, I'm going to say this once and–.”

“Sammy.”

“– That's all. Don't screw with him, he deserves to be happy.”

Cool, now we're blushing.

Minutes tick by and the country club’s roster now holds two new handsome members. Maps of the buildings and grounds are committed to memory, hell, tonight's dinner menu is seared into Dean's mind because who says no to Tomahawk steak?

That whisper soft flap of wings always gets Dean's heart racing. Yup, but it stutters this time 'cause hot damn! “You clean up well, Mr. Turner.”

Cas is rocking a navy polo and slim khakis, all proper like, “There is a dress code for the club and courts. Here,” he offers a fancy looking tote bag.

Oh, more clothes. Alrighty. Ever a pro at changing clothes in his beloved car, Dean's kinda shy this time. Whatever, he steps back around, “Thanks. Great guesswork on the sizes, everything fits.”

Here's another fathomless stare, “I don't guess.”

Right. Weapons and the usual must haves are concealed and Sam’s off to boost a car for his own entrance. Cruising up the perfectly paved drive, Dean whistles, “Look at this place, it's all so shiny.”

“It reminds me of heaven.”

“Orderly?”

“Superficial.”

“Sounds right.”

“Here,” Cas is holding out a hand. Holding a ring. “We should complete the costumes.”

Gulp. Yeah, he takes the ring and notices that Cas is wearing a shiny gold band, too. Why the fuck is it suddenly hard to swallow? “Good looking out, man.”

“I don't half-ass my commitments.”

“That you don't. Alright, you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good, sit tight.” Tossing Baby in park, Dean climbs out and circles before the valet can leap. Door creaking open, he offers a hand and charming smile, “Let's go, hubby.”

Sure, Cas rolls his eyes but takes Dean's hand, “Manners, really?”

“I can commit, too.” Before the bravado fades he grabs the fancy bags and tosses keys to the valet. Smooth. And doesn't let go of Cas’ hand. Nope, it wasn't an oversight, it's a miracle and he doesn't want to let go, wants these hands on him. All of four strides into the lobby and his eyes are watering, “Holy crap, it's cloying!”

“Meadowsweet,” Cas nods to the copious floral arrangements on every freaking surface, “and in excess.”

Something familiar tingles between their connected hands, ah, the silky comfort of grace wipes away the ocular irritation, “Thanks for that. Pagans?”

“Possibly, though its usage is not inherently malevolent.”

“Got it. Hey there, Lucy,” he winks at the snooty looking receptionist, “we’re brand new members, this is our first time n’ it's already off to a yikes start. See, I got distracted by this guy’s pretty eyes n’ forgot to grab our cards.”

“Says my deliriously beautiful husband.”

Holy… yeah, Cas actually said that.

“That's quite alright,” blondie definitely ogles Cas, “I can look up your account by name.”

“Cass with two s’s and Dean Turner.”

“Of course… Here we are… Welcome, sirs, give me one moment to print new cards.”

Dismissed. Shouldn't have brought up Cas’ eyes, thirsty women always swoon over those gems. Only releasing Cas’ hand because his phone buzzes, Dean clears his throat and tries to ignore how badly he wants to grab hold again. “Huh, autopsy on yesterday's vic shows excessively high level of salicylic acid. Aspirin?”

“It's a common organic compound used in many forms. Willow tree bark was originally used by several cultures as a pain reliever, which aspirin is derived from. Sometimes I forget how inventive human beings can be.”

Dean grins, “When Sam spouts random trivia, it's totally nerdy. It's cute when you do it,” oh my Ozzy did he really say that?

Cas rolls his eyes, “It's not random, Dean, there could be connections.”

Giggling catches his attention and yeah, that surge of jealousy is nothing new but this time Dean can do something about it. As in, he inches closer to Cas while keeping track of the thirsty wenches in his periphery, “Still cute. Man, the cougars caught your scent.”

“They're immaterial.”

“Say that now but if one of ‘em catches you alone, no means no.”

“I have zero interest in any cougar.”

“Good, ‘cause I'd hate to kick your ass for being unfaithful but I will.”

“Between the two of us, I'm the one with faith.”

Blink. “Cas, I'm not saying anything–.”

“Here we are,” Ms. Botox is back with cards. “Would you care for a tour of the Club? Or can I reserve court time for you now?”

“No, thank you, Lucy,” Cas smoothly slides a card into their pockets. As in, into Dean's pocket. Of his pants. Just so casually. Breathe. “My husband and I are adventurous, we enjoy exploring with one another.”

That's forever stored in Dean's secret memory folder. Fuck. Focus, Winchester. “Sure do. Big Blue will hit the courts later, he's the athletic one, but not me, I'm just his arm candy.”

Cas clicks his tongue, “You're my trophy, there's a difference.”

“Sure is, champ. To the woman, “Thanks, we're gonna check out the sauna.”

Following the signs and memorized map, they do explore and everywhere they go there are so freaking many people. How can there be this many people with nothing else to do on a Wednesday afternoon? Oh yeah, the 1% at its best. Well, at least those silver spoons means plenty of weaponry on hand if a werewolf or a shifter pops out of the crown molding. Huh, at least the excess silver means they can probably scratch a couple species off the list. And these people are chatty, asking a million personal questions and yeah, they fawn over Cas, who wouldn't? Dean doesn't like it. So maybe he amps up his character, keeping hold of the Angel at damn near every second and Cas must be on board ‘cause he doesn't shake Dean off once. It's awesome.

After the 50th chat-up leaves them with nothing pertinent but plenty of gossip about Lance Miller’s latest affair FFS, Dean’s getting antsy. “Let's get outside. I'll liquor up the other trophies while we watch you shatter egos.”

“I am rather excited to play against someone.”

“Yeah? Someone's getting competitive.”

“It's genuinely a constant battle to restrain my, mm, competitiveness.”

“Huh, never saw that.”

Cas stares long again, then tugs Dean towards the locker room.

But Dean's brain can't let it go, there's something there, some Easter egg or innuendo that Dean's missing. But it's paused for the moment ‘cause this Angel is stripping and that's the hottest thing Dean has ever seen. Okay, maybe Cas isn't stripping, but definitely getting undressed.

“What's wrong?”

Blink. “Huh?”

“You're staring.”

“Uh,” Dean's got nothing, just a 404 screen. “You been working out?”

Cas laughs and that's so rare and beautiful, his nose scrunching up and all those pretty crinkles making appearances. “That's a terrible line, husband.”

Forcing himself to look away and pull on an athletic shirt, Dean clears his throat, “I'm just saying you're different. Your body.”

Someone snickers across the room. Right, there are other people here.

Which Cas knows and boy howdy does he get close, like those thick lips are an inch from Dean's ear as he whispers, “Yes, there have been changes. While a gift, I found Jimmy’s body to be too small, physically weak. Since I claimed it, I've slowly been allowing my body to expand.”

Goosebumps are everywhere and stupidity runs Dean's mouth, “Just don't go getting fat, alright?”

“You're ridiculous. I'm huge, Dean, my true form is massive and I need more room to fit.”

Is someone cooking toast? What's that smell? Hello, stroke, welcome back. “Sounds like you're bragging.”

“There's no need, I'm quite confident with what I've packed in here.”

Dean's knees are struggling to stay locked, why can't he stop speaking? “You know a marriage ain't valid without consummation.” Send help.

“Thats a ridiculous religious context, Dean.”

“Says the Angel.” WTF, shut up! “Thought you said you were committed.”

Holy fuck, Cas’ cheek rubs against Dean's cheek, “Dont question my ability, the concern is your capacity.”

“I'm a tough guy, I can handle anything.”

“I'll ruin you.”

Never has Dean wanted something more and every cell of his body is begging for exactly that. “Sounds like a lot of talk.”

Those are teeth, yup, there are teeth grazing Dean's earlobe, “My patience for talk is running thin. Finish dressing so we can finish this fucking case.”

Oh fuck yeah! Wait, does… Shit. Okay, message received, Dean's thoroughly deflated and refusing to acknowledge the burn behind his eyes. Nope, he just made an ass of himself and probably annoyed the hell out of his best friend, definitely went too far.

“Dean.”

He grunts and pulls on some clingy shorts.

“Dean.”

“Sup.”

And the Angel grabs him for a spin, big eyes flashing, “Whatever you just thought is incorrect,” yeah, thanks. “If I had my way, I'd fuck you through the wall and into the ground and live buried inside you. I crave you, Dean, at every moment I'm imagining just how exquisite you must taste and what your lips feel like and just how beautifully you will cry on my knot and exactly how wonderfully you'll obey me, soft and sweet and kneeling. That is what I must constantly fight.”

Lungs work now, maybe a bit too well ‘cause Dean's verging on hyperoxia, he feels high. Is this real? Cas wants him? Holy humping kangaroos. “Honest?”

“Entirely.”

Gulp. Be brave, Winchester. “I wonder, too.” Phew, that was hard.

Well, this feels like a standoff but in a good way. They're both tense as fuck and it's awesome, just–.

Someone clears their throat. Great, there's Sam. “Sorry to interrupt, I just need to get into my locker.”

Cas still hasn't blinked but he takes a step back, “Apologies.”

“All good.” But Sam whispers now, “Of all the freaking times for you to get your heads out of your asses. Focus on the case before someone else dies, then go do, y'know, each other.”

“Shaddup,” Dean's a whole new shade of crimson. Fully changed now, he kind of likes how these snug fabrics hug him. “Hey…” He tried, he really did, but one look at Cas and all sensibility evaporated.

Crisp white stretches over Cas’ newly bulging biceps and dear Ozzy look at those thighs! So much bronze muscle is on display and Dean never thought short shorts looked good on a dude until now. Until Cas. And it's spectacular. High and drunk off a whole wave of lust, Dean's aware that his feet are moving but it's all a blur until he's standing in sunlight. Work mode, gotta get into work mode. Alright, look away from the Sun, ha.

Nodding to the toothy brunette, “That's Deedee or Dodo, whatever, let's take her up on the offer for a 1:1.”

“I'll try to be gentle.”

Cool, now Dean's shivering under the hot sunlight. Throat cleared, chin up, arm looped oh so casually through Cas’, he leads to the clucking cluster of birds. Charms the ladies who definitely check him and Cas out even though they're obviously… what? Together? Off the menu? Maybe… he can't even acknowledge the word in his mind, meaning he’s the real chicken here. Whatever, later. The birds chirp for their partners and Dean pushes on Cas needing to vent some frustration following their big move, any takers? Yup, the Dodo bird’s husband grunts in agreement. Or speaks French, it's all the same to Dean's ear. But holy hell, Cas replies in something so much prettier. How the hell did Dean forget Cas knows everything? Damn, he's so hot. Focus.

Feeling bold and inspired, he kisses Cas’ cheek and pretends his heart didn't just hit a crescendo. Nope, he just grins and says have fun, hubby, and spins to roost on an empty chair with the other trophies. Huh, that's really getting deep in his psyche. Yeah, he says yes to a Bellini, whatever that is, and keeps an eye – both, both eyes – on Cas while poking the ladies for gossip. The way Cas moves, it's like he's flying across the court using legs instead of wings and every graceful swoop of the racquet creates a mini sonic boom in Dean's chest. Bet those hands would be absolute blissful murder spanking Dean's ass, or handling a solid paddle, each blow vibrating up to Dean's teeth… fuck.

It took three of the kinda awesome fruity drinks to keep himself cooled down, and dammit, he nearly missed Virginia’s comment about one of the club’s director’s meltdown. Sounds more viable than any other gossip so far, so he leans on it, needing every detail. It's not much to remember for later, alright, but he has to text it all to Sam in live-time because every time he looks exactly where his eyes want to go every freaking second, or when he hears the sharp whack, it's impossible to think. It sure isn't helping that for all of Cas’ silent intensity, the other guy, Jako or Joke or whatever his accent mumbled, dude is a grunter. Okay, yeah, that red tongue to the edge of his vision is jealousy, Dean can silently admit it to himself, and yeah, it's not like Cas is into that guy. Right? No way. Not after he said he wanted to get into Dean. Right?

Annabelle with the unmovable Botox brow pats Dean's arm, “Your husband is the next Novak Djokovic!”

Ha, more like the previous Novak, but also, “Lady, there's no one like Cas.”

“God,” Dodo licks her lips, and Dean realizes just how creepy that is and he has hundreds of women to apologize to, or just altogether forget in place of something much, much better. “He's so intense, how do you handle that?”

“My legs weren't always bowed.” Dude, what the hell? Well, the ladies all giggle, so, “He's a total badass, an absolute beast but he's an Angel for me.” And this drink has now been drunk. Drank? Drinked? Yeah, he's losing his mind a bit.

With the sprinting and dashing and stretching and whacking, maybe this actually is a sport. From the growing crowd of spectators watching Cas effortlessly keep the hairy dude running, it's a great one. Whispers abound and the take is that new stud Turner is unbelievably good, which is awesome and true, but they need to be believable for the case. Why does Dean keep forgetting this is work? Fiddling with the ring for the millionth time, the fruity drinks have his mind just slippery enough to run with an urge, which in Dean's experience means he's about to do something cavalier. Meh, whatever.

He prays. Castiel, most badass of all feathery folks, I hope you've got your ears on. I'm absolutely loving the show, this is awesome, you're a total beast and make it all look simple even though I can see every muscle popping and stretching and bulging ‘cause dear Ozzy those shorts are short. Bet they're warm, like so warm that when your thighs are wrapped around my head and holding me in place, it's like an inferno, the sexiest kind of heat and those thighs are insane! Hand to Van Halen, I get that bodies are human and all, but man, you're gonna have to get used to showing yours off ‘cause I’m over here drooling in my appletini or whatever this is and that sounds weird, crap, but I wanna see more all the time. I want to see you all the time, with less on, like ditch the suit and tie rigamarole and show off just how freaking hot you are, and maybe I can, too. Well, duh, I'm gonna be watching, I always watch you, my peripheral vision is better than a chameleon. Wait, no, what the hell, I'm not a lizard, those freaky things are weird, just all googly and doing that weird back and forth bobbing. Whatever, I mean I always see you and boy howdy, I love looking. Do you look? Fuck, not what I meant to say. Think. Dammit, even my freaking thoughts trip up around you. Okay, focus, dude. Ah, hey, Castiel, your feathery bits are about to show, should probably ease up a bit. Yeah, that's what I meant to say. Think. Shit.

Cas is looking at him. Like still in the game or match, whatever, but looking at Dean and doesn’t even turn his head as the other dude sends the ball sailing, nope, just swings and sends it back and the Frenchman stumbles and misses. All while pinning Dean with one of those crazy intimate stares that feel soul deep.

A shrill klaxon starts up. The fire alarm coming from the sprawling clubhouse and polos and khakis are already flooding out. Dean is already texting Sam as Cas shakes the other dude’s hand and storms right over here.

Cas oh so casually grips Dean's shoulder and that will never not get him gulping. “Are you alright?”

Not even close. “Yeah, babe, I'm good. Did you have fun?”

Other guy swipes at his face and grumbles, “I need a nap and Turner hasn't even broken a sweat.”

“Only one person has ever made me sweat,” that hand now runs through Dean's hair and tugs, and lips brush Dean's cheek as gently as lava, “and it's constant.”

Breathe, just breathe. But with the distraction of the main building being evacuated, this chatty group finds something less hot to gawk over, y'know, a fire. A return text from Sam says he's good, the smoke was from him, go work the crowd. Alright.

Taking the opportunity AKA Cas' hand, Dean strolls through the gossiping cluster circling the clubhouse. Same as earlier, nada, a waste of time as the fire department clears the building.

Sliding an arm around Cas’ waist feels so natural, “You got anything?”

“I'm nearly certain that there are not actual humans,” Cas’ whisper has Dean ready to raise elbows for an onslaught, “they're seagulls.”

“As in? Oh, ha! Bunch of vapid squawkers?”

“Yes, kleptoparasites.”

“Sounds right. What d'you wanna do?”

“You.”

And Dean's having a stroke. Fuck, his overtaxed brain splinters and floods with possibilities, all the things… hey. Now he's glaring, “Sure, you say that while you're checking out the redhead.”

“What?”

“I'm standing right here, man, can't miss it.”

“Dean, I'm not checking out anyone.”

“It's cool,” it's not, “you see something pretty, you're gonna look.”

Cas gets real close and personal, “The only person I look at is you, Dean, and that faceless human means nothing.”

And we're sweating again. “Then why were you staring?”

Graceful as ever, Cas spins behind Dean and loops both arms around his waist and this is so freaking nice. “I'm imagining you in that yellow skirt, your legs golden and gleaming and such a fucking tease.”

That smoke sure smells like toast again, “I don't wear skirts.”

Lips brush his ear, “Pure temptation and I'm done resisting. I could bend you over anything, everything, and lift that skirt to–.”

And Dean will never know because some jackass interrupts them. By screaming. Probably means they need help. Dammit. But he sure as hell isn't letting go, nope, he pulls Cas along while rushing back into the noisy cluster. Shit, there's a woman on the ground, no visible injuries.

Cas crouches and does his thing, then, “She has low blood sugar, perhaps a diabetic.”

An older guy nods frantically, “Muffy forgets to reset her pump.”

Muffy? FFS. Ah, here's a boon, when the fire department makes an appearance, so do the paramedics. Leaving the tragically named civvies to the EMS crew, Dean’s brain reverts right back to near-desperation and has to know what Cas was about to say. A skirt, wow, that's… awesome. As people head back into the cleared clubhouse, He shoots his shot and leads his hubby to the locker room, snagging bath sheets from the basket.

“Are we showering?”

And Dean's brain goes down with the ship, mayday, mayday. Words are too hard now, he only manages one, “Sauna.”

“Which you referred to as the ‘water cooler for yuppies.’”

“Well, yeah, but that was years ago.”

“One hour and 17 minutes.”

“Shaddup. Now,” where did this courage come from? “I'm thinking it's a great way to see if you're being honest.”

“I don't lie, Dean.”

“Guess we'll find out just how tempting you really think I am.” Alright, that felt awesome, major points for Dean and he's smug as hell seeing Cas’ eye twitch. Doubly so as Dean peels off sweaty clothes. Yeah, sweaty from all that sitting around getting tipsy while the powerhouse over there put on the sexiest show he has ever seen. Until now, like this exact moment, as Cas hooks thumbs under the hem of his briefs and– nope! “Cas, I swear to Ozzy if you take those off, you better fuck me here n’ now.”

“I'm amenable.”

Someone moaned, might be the HVAC system, weird vents and all. Right. “We, uh… the case. Gotta, y'know, finish… fuck.”

“I'll certainly finish,” Cas is out for murder, those big eyes wandering over Dean's everything, “and if you behave, I might let you.”

Well, Dean's blood sugar must be wonky, too, ‘cause the room is spinning and he has to brace a hand on the lockers. Heart racing, sweat pouring, vision rolling, yup, this is diabetic shock. Oh, it gets worse, or better, the symptoms intensify as Cas actually takes off those briefs… hello, darkness.

“Dean! Dean, open your eyes!”

When did they close? He blinks a couple times, the looming shape takes on a face, and strong hands are bracing him against the lockers. “What happened?”

“You fainted. What do you feel?”

“Warm n’ cozy,” oh yeah, that's a thread of silky grace floating through his body, “it's nice.”

“Such a sweet boy,” and those gorgeous lips brush Dean's forehead. “I don't sense a spell or curse. Were you dizzy?”

Memory finally kicks in and awesome, Dean's blushing to his freaking toes. “I, uh, I forgot to breathe.”

“What?”

Glancing down and instantly feeling light headed, he leans back and takes a deep and definitely manual breath. Okay, woo, “Do your knees hurt?”

Sapphires squint for a moment, “No, do yours?”

“Not yet but they're gonna. Heh, bet yours are used to it now, a cock that big slapping at ‘em with every step.”

“Hmm, you saw my cock and passed out.”

Welcoming the sweet shame, Dean nods, “You're a beast.”

“And you're beautiful.”

Bodies can melt, he's seen it in living color so many times, but this kind of melting is totally different and he's a happy puddle. Only the clattering sounds from other people in this bustling locker room keep Dean from dropping to his knees. Ha, wow, it feels awesome to think freely and not inhibit himself. Alright, he's running with it and shucks off his own boxer briefs, goose bumps taking flight as Cas openly stares at Dean's definitely smaller and pretty average cock. Fuck, why does that feel so good? Dunno, but it does. Can't even feel his fingers but somehow manages to wrap a towel around his hips; the struggle is real.

Somehow they make it to the actual sauna and Dean only loses a gallon or two of moisture watching all that bronzed muscle along the way. His lusty brain makes a momentary effort when Cas chants something in Enochian before opening the heavy cedar door like it's a tissue, fuck, he's so strong. That same hand slaps two fingers against some aging porker’s forehead and says leave. Whoa.

Cas sits on the bench and just looks at Dean and holy flipping pancakes it feels good, “Come here.”

Only takes two steps to cross the smallish space, but now what?

Cas oats a thick thigh, “Here.”

As in…? No way. Fuck yeah. A man his size doesn't fold well but he origamis himself into Cas’ lap and will never sit anywhere else, holy halo this is where he's meant to be. Breathe, Dean, breathe.

“I've longed for this,” an arm wraps behind Dean's back and the other hand rubs across his now bare knee, “holding you for pleasure, feeling your eyes on me, your desire.”

Ah, the geese have returned and send a shiver up Dean's everything as they land. “Cas.” Aces, man, can't even get his name out without shuddering.

“Dean.”

We now have a full tremor. “You, uh, I mean, I like this.”

“So do I. Let me taste you.”

Moving so fast that every muscle and ligament strains, Dean wraps around Cas’ neck and finally, finally, final-fucking-ly kisses the man of his filthy dreams. Everything shakes and flips over, his internal compass has a new north and it's right here.

“Perfect, you're perfect, Dean,” words are puffed against his lips as hands move into Dean's hair and over his cheek, “Give me more.”

Getting a handful of the messy hair is a hundred times better now than in all his fantasies, more texture and sensation and he drags Cas up to his lips again. These lips are insane, so thick and plush and mobile, catching Dean's tongue as he licks across them. And those teeth snag Dean's lip and worry it, bringing all kinds of noises Dean has never made before and probably always will now.

“Absolutely delicious, mmm. Tell me what you want, what you need.”

“You, you, Cas, I need you.”

“How?”

Oh fuck. Gasping like an ingenue at their first donkey show, Dean can't tell if he's getting not enough or too much oxygen. Doesn't matter, the hands roaming his body and sinful lips right freaking there are all that matter. “Wanna feel you, touch you, I… I really want you to fuck me.”

“Good boy,” those lips ghost Dean's and leave him shaking. “Give yourself to me.”

Must be all the steam in this sauna, there's a trickle running down Dean's cheek… no, he can own it this once, he's crying and it's out of sheer fucking happiness. “Yours, Cas, I wanna be yours.”

That wily tongue licks from Dean's jaw to cheekbone, “Thank you, sweetheart, I accept. There are no givebacks and I expect obedience, you're mine.”

“Fuck.”

“Perhaps, once you've earned it.”

Full body shudder, yup, knees knocking while seated… on Cas’ knees. “Please, Cas, I can earn it.”

“So eager, just lovely. But you lack focus.”

“Nuh uh, I can focus, swear all I'm thinking about is you.”

Cas nibbles on Dean's ear and gums, vibrations rattling to Dean's toes and back, “Soon I'll be all you ever think of, only me, baby, your mind filled with pleasing me, providing me with this beautiful body and these sweet lips, mine.”

Dean's entire mind folds inside out as every deeply buried desire comes clawing to the surface. This is what he's dreamt of, can it be real? “You, please.”

“I believe you,” Cas nuzzles his cheek and that's just awesome. Then tugs the towel loose from Dean's waist, “and I'll help you focus on me, and not on this,” brushing hands across Dean's straining cock.

Lashes flutter and it's hard to think let alone speak because Cas just rubbed his cock. Fuck! “Just want…” That's all, can't compute.

Cas tugs Dean's hair and stares from like an inch away, “You have such a cute little cock, but it must be so distracting.”

His eyes roll so far he can see his own brainstem, mumbling, “Distracting.”

“But I can help if you ask nicely like a good boy.”

“Please help me, Cas, I wanna, I wanna be good for you.”

“Mmm, such lovely manners. You can hold onto me but don't move. Do you understand?”

Dean nods and only thanks to gravity because he's losing control of his body. A burst of sheer pleasure races through his nervous system and all limbs go slack. Another stroke of that huge hand around his cock and Dean sags against Cas’ chest. The third has his eyes closing as he drowns in sensation.

“How does my hand feel, baby? How does your little cock feel with my big hand touching you?”

This movement is unstoppable, he's quivering and so freaking high already, his tongue feels numb and too big in his mouth. “Real good, I… my lil’ cock.”

Cas kisses across Dean's shaky lips, “Mmhmm, I like it, too, so pretty just like the rest of you, Dean. Exquisitely beautiful. But I want the real you, who you know you want to be.”

“Dunno… how… Please!”

“I'll show you how.”

This must be a dream ‘cause nothing has ever felt as surreal and incredible as being pet and stroked and kissed by his Angel. Yet here he is naked on Cas’ lap in a kinda public place getting jacked off… and it's the best thing ever. From the massive presence below his thighs, he has no doubts that Cas is into it, too, and he wants to get his hands on that beast, but Cas said don't move, so he doesn't. And the sounds he makes while cumming in Cas’ hand would make every Casa Erotica actor nod in appreciation.

“Such a messy boy,” there's a slurp and Dean heaves his eyelids up just in time to see Cas sucking down shiny fingers. Dean's cum. Cas is licking fingers slicked with Dean's cum. “A delicious snack to whet my tongue. What's that?”

Controlling his tongue is a literal struggle, damn thing keeps twisting into knots. Dean tries again, “Thank you.”

Those wet lips rub across his, “You're welcome. Stand up.”

Legs so rubbery and brain woozy, it takes all of his capability plus Cas’ strong hands to get himself upright. Now he's standing buck naked in front of his Angel and it feels as heady as being touched. He watches Cas watching him, those huge eyes coursing everywhere and it’s awesome. Huh, Cas tears a thin strip off the abandoned towel, rolls it even thinner… omg.

“There we go,” Cas tugs each loop, “all done with this pretty little thing, time to put it away.”

Dean stares down at the bow tied around his spent cock and he has never felt more beautiful. Oh, his inner creature is emerging and the scent of freedom is getting stronger. There's only one thing he should say and he means it to his soul, “Thank you.”

Cas folds the towel and drops it, then kisses his belly, “Very good. Kneel.”

Yup, Dean can manage to fall down, that's easy. Which brings him right between Cas’ knees and holy halo…

Unwrapping his own towel, Cas bares the mega beast and hefts the enormous thing with a strong hand and probably some grace ‘cause it must be heavy. “Do you know what this is?”

Fuck. “A real cock.”

“Yes. Where does it belong?”

“Anywhere you want.”

“Oh, you sweet boy. Yes, and where do I want my cock?”

Dean licks his lips and mentally crosses his fingers, “Inside me?”

“Perpetually. Kiss me.”

Hell yeah, Dean tilts and aims for those sexy lips, but a finger to his own pauses him. And it taps and points… oh fuck. Yup, Dean redirects and places a shaky kiss to that fat crown. Warm and smooth and moist, it's perfect.

“That was very sweet, Dean. Keep your hands on your lap and warm my cock.”

Spontaneous combustion imminent. Drooling in anticipation, he kisses again. And again. And spreads his lips for this ultimate fantasy come true. It definitely ain't easy to work this giant into his mouth but he's not one to back down. Until he's down on his back and then hopefully this massive cock wil– focus. The more he takes, the more he wants, and filling himself with Cas is next level. Nothing else matters, just servicing this cock and earning more praise and feeling those fingers pet into his hair, all pointing to the truth Dean has hidden for so long: he's meant to be Cas’ cock slut. Yup there's no denying it anymore, all he cares about is this.

Cas is groaning and noisy and pouring praise, but yanks Dean off and up with a growl just to lick his lips. “Your mouth was made for my cock, baby, did you know that? When I rebuilt your stunning body after Hell, I knew, oh, I knew exactly how deep you'll take me and how beautifully you'll wear my seed.”

Slurring a string of please earns him the reward of being pushed back down, greedily gulping until his throat is stuffed and all he can sense is Cas. The words play over and over in his head, the thrill hitting an obscene level as he gives in to true need. Maybe his jaw aches and his throat is raw and his lungs get tapped a few times but he freaking loves it, this is his true purpose. Somehow it just gets better, with Cas now actively fucking his face and radiating more heat than any paltry sauna possibly could. But something happens, something is happening, there's more and he can barely manage a tiny breath through his nose as everything expands.

A long guttural groan is punctuated by broken words, “Open… more…. All mine… Swallow me… So full!”

A deluge hits Dean's belly, this cock so deep that all the thick, hot cum can't even be swallowed, way past that point. And it's fucking awesome, Dean just got his oral cherry popped and from the blissed out expression on his husband's face– pretend husband, on his Angel’s face, it was a good one. But… wait… what the hell? Dean tries to pull back, to lift off the enormous cock but he can't, he's stuck and the warmth keeps flooding his body.

“Beautiful,” Cas slurs and pats Dean's cheek, “perfect and so beautiful.”

If he had a tail, mm. But also, he tries to pull back again.

“Easy, baby, relax, I'm not done, you took my knot and your reward is me filling your belly.”

Knot? As in…

Again woken by his name being called, Dean can't move but looks around. Oh fuck, this is real, this really happened. Lifting a trembling to his own throat, he feels the massive lump bulging and now he's crying.

“Shh, it's okay, sweetheart, you made me very happy.”

Honestly, if his entire pulmonary system wasn't stuffed by an enormous Angelic cock, Dean would probably have cooed. All he can do for now is look.

And Cas looks happy, a loopy grin and those big eyes sparkling. Wow.

Unknown time passes and Dean's honestly totally chill on his knees, doesn't feel a single ache despite literally never being in this position before. Huh, can't fight nature. But the swelling, the knot ballooned in his throat goes down and he can't stop the actual whimper when his mouth is empty, no way to catch it with his jaw hanging.

“Keep behaving so wonderfully and I may allow you another taste later. You may use your hands now.”

Oh, thank fuck! Dean surges forward to hug his Angel, gripping tight and burying his face against that thick and sweat-free chest. Well, it's not dry anymore, those are Dean's tears rubbing in, but that's a-okay. “I can't believe this is real.”

“It is, we're real. Look at me,” Cas tilts him up, “I love you for who you are, Dean, from your radiant soul to your sparkling eyes. I know who you want to be, the freedom you long for and I will give you the safety and support to let your true nature out, and I will keep you on a short leash every step of the way. Breathe, Dean.”

Hauling a huge inhale, Dean’s dizzy again. Another, okay. So, Cas loves him? One thing at a time. “I really want that. Are you sure?”

Thick lips dance over his, “Entirely.”

“Does that, y'know, change things between us?”

“Yes, it puts us where we should be, how we should be with one another.”

“But we're still gonna be friends.”

“Always, sweetheart, but now much more.”

“Okay. Good. Yeah, that's… good.” Eloquent as always, Winchester.

“Say anything.”

No way. But maybe he can? It's happening. “I loved sucking your cock.”

“Mmm, you gave me the greatest pleasure I have ever felt.”

Squee! Licking his woefully empty lips, “Felt really good when you were, y'know, touching me. But, uh, I think… Cas, I think I lost a chunk of my brain cumming in your hand n' it was awesome. But I liked… servicing you even better. I felt high n’ safe n’ special.”

“You are special, you're incredible,” Cas pets his hair again.

Emboldened despite the non-stop blushing, Dean goes for it, “Should we have the kink talk?”

“If you'd like, but I'm quite certain I know your interests.”

“Heh, yeah, well… There's something I never searched or said out loud. Something that's a heavy hitter n’ I really freaking need it.”

“I know, Dean.”

Does he? How? But Dean has to be sure, this is the incredible start of something, well, incredible. He motions to the towel string flexing tight around his chubbed up cock, “This, but more.”

“Tell me.”

“I don't want to cum.” He said it. That wasn't too bad, okay, here goes, “Like not at all, never again, not like this, maybe only if you tell me to or something, but not for me. I want the mental orgasm that I know you can make happen, fuck, I was nearly there just kissing your cock. Just… is this weird?”

“No, baby, it's wonderful.”

“Yeah? Alright, you tapped the keg so here's more. Each time you called my cock little n’ small, my eyes were rolling, it felt so freaking good. Wearing this,” not touching the achy thing, “makes me feel, um, pretty. That's what I really want, to feel like that, pretty for… you.”

Silence.

The only sound is the hissing steam from the heater, or maybe that's Dean's nerves sizzling.

Cas finally moves and pulls Dean to his lips for a mind numbing kiss. “I know every human language from the start of civilization and between them all, I don't have the words to express how immensely happy I am. You're everything to me, Dean.”

This is awesome. “Same, Cas, honest.”

“My sweet Dean. Don't move, I'll be right back.” Invisible wings flutter and he's gone.

So… Dean's just gonna wait here then. Naked, on his knees, lips puffy from finally doing what they were made for. Hell yeah.

Whoosh

“You stayed.”

Straightening his back a bit more ‘cause hot damn he's proud of himself, Dean nods, “I wanna be good for you.”

“Perfect. Stand up.”

Again needing a boost, he's leaning a bit as his joints protest– and it washes away with a tide of grace. “Thanks.”

“Your body will adapt to, well, there will be several changes that we can talk about later. For now, I'm taking care of this little problem.” That would be Dean's cock. With a flick Cas releases the bow and now it really aches. “This is going to be uncomfortable for a moment, hold onto me.”

Fuck. He grasps broad shoulders and forces a deep breath… and grinds his teeth as that big hand crushes his cock. It's a vicious vice grip and excruciating and fucking effective. A bit delirious from the indescribably horrible pain, he just tries to stand upright as Cas handles the problem. As in, the Angel kinda rolls Dean's hopefully forevermore flaccid cock up and cages it. A cage. An actual cock cage. Oh fuck. It's gold with a sheen, looking almost like braided lace and so small, so tight, there's no way he'll ever be able to get hard again. It's perfect.

“Breathe… again.”

Shit. “That… feels right.”

“Mmm, this is gorgeous, baby.”

“Thank you, really thank you.”

“My pleasure,” ha. “This doesn't come off.”

“No, never. I need it so bad.”

“You also need something else, say it.”

Feeling safe and secure with this literal cage, Dean doesn't hesitate, “My balls, I don't need ‘em, they're just problems. Please, Cas?”

Cas looks him dead in the eye while reaching past the cage. He cups Dean's balls and squeezes, not like with his tiny cock, it's just steady pressure that Dean feels through his entire abdomen. Then he really feels it there, like a shift, something moves and it's bizarre…

“There, tucked out of the way.”

“Did, um, can I touch?” Asking permission to touch his own body, yeah, he’s all-in.

“Just this once, then hands off.”

“I won't, I promise.” Fingers shake while reaching and the gold filigree feels really awesome. Then there's nothing, his balls are gone and it's just smooth skin between the cage and his hole. Holy halo. Now all he needs is his ass handled and Dean will be floating on clouds. “This better not be a djinn dream.”

“It's real, my love.”

Everything tingles and he's grinning while his fine ass Angel tucks a towel around his waist, talk about feeling pampered. Ha, yeah, that's Dean's nature at work, he's all-but castrated and his cock will probably never be touched again and Dean has never been happier.

But he is cold, the locker room has to be a solid 30° cooler than the sauna. Noticing a couple guys duck into the steaming pit, he thinks out loud, “Got lucky with the timing.”

“What do you mean?”

“No one interrupted us. Y'know, I kinda forgot there were other people around.”

Cas rubs Dean's back and grace cleans and dries his entire body, “Oh. I placed a spell on it, anyone who saw the door would immediately forget and leave.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course. I won't leave my mate vulnerable.”

Mate? Fuck, that's sounds awesome. “You're a big softie.”

The pretty Angel rolls his eyes, “Get dressed.”

Soon they're strutting their fine asses out and it's wild how different Dean feels. For one, his clothes sit better, no over sensitivity around the dangly bits. Definitely something different with his gut, maybe from his testicles being replanted, but it's not uncomfortable. His mind is clear and light, that intangible weight of hiding has been lifted and he's breathing fresh air. He just needs to remember to keep breathing, right.

One hand holds Cas’ and the other taps his phone, “Sam’s been busy.”

“Anything alarming?”

“No… just a bunch of where are you, is he the only one actually working and a reminder about dinner. Which is right now, hell yeah. Hey?”

“What?”

“Can this be our first date? Officially.”

That brilliant smile has Dean's toes curling, “Yes!”

His own grin reaches both ears while escorting his date to the dining hall. Yup, people look, who wouldn't, they're smoking hot. Proudly scooting Cas’ chair in, Dean's pulling on all his manners tonight, he's going to charm the socks off this stud.

It must work because he has Cas laughing again and again before the food is even served, just that goofy gummy smile and cracks of thunder. A couple times people stopped by their table and say sup, which are annoying reminders that there's a job here.but all that is back burnered, Dean's focus is the nerdy Angel with wicked sarcasm and a third leg. Yup, he's a lucky sonuvabitch.

Then there's the actual food and Dean's drooling for another reason. The massive steaks are perfectly seared and juicy and one of the best meats he's ever shoved down his throat, ha. But Cas kinda takes over now, cutting the steaks into bite sizes and feeding Dean. It's the most intimate experience and brings a swathe of feelings that Dean can't quantify. Cas must know and he calmly promises to feed Dean properly soon, it'll be much more comfortable with Dean on his knees. Yup, nailed it.

Heart and belly delightfully full, Dean’s not even mad about getting zero leads on the case. Too many good things are happening, nothing can bring him down.

Well, he should have known better. They're just hitting the garden trail around the club when he gets the 911. “Sammy?”

“2690 Congress Boulevard, room 412. Get here now!”

“Cas, can–.”

“I heard,” the Angel moves them.

Feet land on carpet in a hotel room, his blade is already out as he spins.

Cas has his blade out, too, a frown scrunching up his adorable face, “There's no one here, I don't sense anything.”

“Did you land us in the right room? Sammy!”

“This is 412.”

Phone buzzes again.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Nowhere close. Everything is fine, I'm okay.”

“What're we doing here?”

“Look, the job is done. It was that director, he got into witchcraft and hexed people he didn't like, I got his head and burned the rest.”

“The fire?”

“Yeah. Now you two need to take some time off and have an actual conversation about, you know, each other. The room is paid for through Saturday.”

Cas leans over the phone, “Sam, you're not in danger?”

“No, I promise.”

“Okay. Goodbye.”

Well. Dean shifts on his feet, “So… should we talk?”

“Yes, quickly.”

Tickled now, Dean grins, “Someone's eager.”

“I'm voracious.”

“Hell yeah.” A witty comment fizzles out as those hands get right to stripping Dean. Ah, that was definitely fabric tearing, yup, three seconds and naked.

“Oh, much better,” Cas rubs across Dean's chest and down to his hips, “You're devastatingly handsome, Dean, it's a travesty to cover up such beauty with clothing.”

There's that burst of serotonin, yum. “Kinda think the same thing about you.”

A blink and Cas is naked, too, holy Ozzy he's hot. Look at that ass, mmm, talk about a deity. He sits on the little slouch and pats his lap.

Hell yeah! Except… “I need a couple minutes, gotta hit the head.”

“No. Come here.”

Well, alright. He settles on his new favorite seat and here's another wisp of grace. Huh. “Did you clean me out?”

“Yes, I expect you to always be ready and I'll happily do my part,” as those hands get exploring.

Fuck. “That sounds… awesome. I don't know where to start.”

“You're my mate, Dean. I've known since the moment I touched your soul,” he rubs across Dean's chest. “Finally having the honor to touch you and tell you what I feel, it's nearly overwhelming.”

“Could only be you, I… I've been nuts about you for so long n’ too freaking chicken to say something. I'm sorry.”

“Let's promise each other now that we won't hold back again.”

“Yeah, I swear. You said you love me. Earlier.”

“I've always loved you.”

“In this way?”

“First and most.”

Gulp. Brave albeit invisible panties on, “I love you, too. This kind of love,” he initiates this kiss and puts everything he thinks and feels into it. That hits just right.

“I believe the term is, you stole my breath.”

Dean laughs against his neck, “Man, I'm so glad you're still you.”

“And I'm proud of you for finally being all you.”

“Heh, yeah. We gotta talk about the elephant cock in the room. You've got a knot.”

“I'm an Alpha.”

“Yeah, ya are. But, uh, what's that mean?”

“Angels don't have male/female gender. Most are Beta and have an assortment of traits and genitalia but average, though I have met some who exhibit both Alpha and Omega traits and, Dean, they're so moody!”

“Ha!”

“Alphas are rare even amongst the Archangels, we are inherently powerful, larger wings, true knots and superior seed.”

“We're coming back to your wings ‘cause I'm gonna lick your wings.”

“Grooming one another is an important tenet in a relationship.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Omegas tend to have more acute senses, they're prone to sensory overload and submissive,.yet powerful in the pleasure they bring to others. Of course there are many other aspects, but I'm certain those are the points you most wanted to know.”

“Yeah. Wow, I had no idea you all are so sexual.”

“With millennia comes boredom and with no need to procreate, most Angels ‘fuck like bunnies.’”

“Is this you saying you got around?”

“Sex in celestial form is quite different and typically brutal. In this form, well, all my past experiences combined can't compare to the bliss your mouth brought me.”

Breathe, keep breathing. “I think we know which, uh, gender I’d fall in.”

“The loveliest Omega this universe has seen.”

Blinking back the sweet sting and yeah, sniffling for a second, Dean whispers, “I wanna be.”

Cas nuzzles against his cheek and kisses his eyelids, “I claimed you, Dean, right here,” pressing a hand over the now faded handprint, “my signature marked my intentions, my love. But it's incomplete, it has to be both sides and… that brings more changes.”

Seeing the suddenly nervous expression, Dean squeezes Cas’ hand, “Full honesty, babe, I'll do anything for you.”

“If you were to claim me back, without grace to mesh with mine, human biochemistry is altered and you would develop physical aspects of an Omega.”

“Are they bald? Tell me they're not bald.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“Or hunchbacks.”

The Angel laughs and kisses across his cheek again, “No. It varies and has only happened a handful of times I know of, each human becoming fertile and mucous membranes–.”

“C'mon.”

“Slick, Dean, your beautiful hole will drip for me, you'll crave my knot constantly–.”

“Already do.”

“And I won't be able to resist breeding you, my needs will intensify and we'll stay tied together for days because Omega slick is ambrosia to all senses and drives Alphas to rut, and when in that cycle, Alphas don't stop cumming, our seed is fueled by grace and endless. Your body will be saturated in my cum, covered in my scent.”

Omg yes. Erotic shock is back, he's tingling and high. “Guess we'll never run out of lube.”

Another adorable laugh.

“Fertile and breeding. Pretty sure I know this answer, but lay it out.”

“Not an actual womb like with the creation of nephilim. Regardless of assigned gender a human Omega can safely host a celestial lifeform, though I only know of one pair that decided to actually do it.”

“If they're fucking like bunnies, why don't we have millions of hybrids running around the planet?”

“Procreation is a choice, Dean, all seed doesn't contain the equivalent of sperm. Don't roll your eyes, that's the correct equivalent.”

“Alright, Dr. Sexy, carry on.”

“Angels must consciously choose to share sperm. But you would go into heat, your body aching to service me and gorge yourself on Alpha cum. If my rut and your heat matched up, and they absolutely would because I would never stop tasting you, neither of us would walk right.”

“I’m good with crawling.”

Cas licks into his mouth and that tongue is wild, mmm. “You're stunning on your knees.”

“For you. So, recap, you're a super stud n’ once I get my claim on you, I'm gonna shift to leaking lube, constant obedience n’ sex, you're gonna feed me cum for breakfast, lunch n’ dinner, and if we decide to further down the line, you can knock me up.”

“Well, when you say it like that, it's so romantic.”

“Ha! Cas, I'm good with everything. Um, when you gave me this,” patting his shoulder, “I don't have that memory, but it sure burned later. Do I brand you?”

“Of sorts, yes. But not tonight, I want my beautiful boy just like this.”

“Anything, Alpha,” that felt incredible to say, like holy fuck.

And we're moving. Cas is strong, duh, but having him stand and carry Dean to the bed without so much as a strain, talk about awe. Now the big beauty is knelt over him, lips covering Dean's. “You may touch me for now.”

This is a moan, yup, Dean's so happy for the permission that he moaned like a fiend. Apt. His hands are everywhere as Cas works lower, breathless as lips seal around a nipple and suck, just arching up with pure need. It only gets better because everywhere Cas touches or licks, it's a brand new favorite spot and sends sparks through Dean's skull. That tongue traces each rib and fingers circle every freckle, kinda gnawing on a hip bone that feels so much better than he could've imagined. It's like being worshipped by a god, that's what this is, it's a miracle.

Cas lifts Dean's knees up and out, then kneels back and strokes that massive beast. “The finest art, I'm constantly enraptured by your beauty.”

“Cas, please.”

“This is just how my stunning mate should stay, laid out trembling from my touch, free of distractions,” rubbing where Dean's balls used to live, “begging for my cock.”

“I don't need mine, please,” 16 emotions flood his core and he's damn sure of what he wants. “I want you to get rid of it, I don't need a cock.”

“Not right now, baby, this,” tracing the mesh, “is a symbol of your commitment to me, to us, a gift I will always cherish. Mmm, and it's such a pretty little thing, packed away where it belongs.”

These are fresh tears, “That feels so good.”

“Because it's the truth, sweetheart. Hands on the bed… very good.”

Now Dean's ass is in the air and holy halo that's Cas’ tongue lapping at his rim. Flicking, lathing, pressing right into the pucker, this Angel devours him and it's another contender for the best thing Dean has ever felt. The few times Dean had gotten bold AKA drunk enough to explore back there, it was nothing special, never could touch himself right. Yeah, he was definitely doing it wrong because this is paradise city, even his locked down cock is helpless to the onslaught of hell yeahs. Oh and it pinches like hell, the pain just distracting enough to focus on staying still when his body just wants to fall apart.

A sharp slap to the cage has Dean gasping and the Angel smiling, “Very good, darling, I see you trying to behave.”

“Your… mouth… Fuck.”

“I'm hungry, Dean,” and big hands flip him face down and spread his cheeks, “and your Omega hole is so tasty.”

Moaning into the bedding is all Dean's got, nothing else is possible as Cas' tongue pushes inside, and deeper and deeper… How long is his tongue? Oh fuck. It twists and he sees stars, intense pleasure exploding. That's it, that's the spot he never found and Cas is licking it. Yeah, this is going to the top of the list.

Then fingers join the party and the list is now pages long. Copiously wetted by that wicked tongue, fhey slide and twist and spread and bump that sweet spot, every motion is awesome. Not a surprise at this point, but Cas gets filthy with his dirty talk and it's addicting to lay here like a pillow princess and earn potent praise. Just stay still, that's all he has to do. Oh, and breathe, that one’s a bit trickier and he forgets to when Cas’ entire fist makes it in. Yeah. And again when Cas tells him to reach back, feel this and he finds half of Cas’ forearm buried in his hole.

Now that arm is twisting out and it takes a while ‘cause Cas went deep, “Oh, that's much better, this Omega hole has softened up.”

“Please, Alpha, need your knot.”

“You'll get it, pet, I'll feed you.” it's muffled at the end because Cas is licking his rim… that's a really long lick, oh fuck. “Nice and wet for me, just right.” And there's his cock inching in, so freaking big and pulsing and amazing. Each slow thrust has him humming and all Deab can think is Cas is fucking him, this is real, that's Cas popping the final cherry and it's the best. The Angel is groaning against Dean's neck, so primal as he finally bottoms out somewhere in Dean's chest, this is a real cock. “Perfect, Dean, your beautiful hole feels perfect spreading for my cock, I knew you would but this,” a sharp snap that rocks Dean's teeth, “is magnificent. Up, baby, hands and knees… good boy.”

This is where Dean belongs, at his Angel’s command, only thinking about Cas, nothing else exists but this. Just the slaps of skin, if blunt nails scratching down his back, the incendiary praise, the massive cock pulverizing him, no distractions. He's chanting Cas' name like a prayer when he's tugged further up, his back to Cas' chest.

“Use your hands, touch me, Dean.”

God yes, he grips a rock solid thigh with one hand, reaching behind to grab for that messy hair and drag Cas' lips to his neck. Still babbling, he tries to add actual words, needs to at least say, “I love you, Cas, I'm all yours.”

That did it, Cas freaking snarls, “Mine,” and goes wild. Faster, sharper, harder, he fucks Dean out of his body and a huge knot into it. Like grabbing an electric fence in the rain, a nonstop shock to every neuron as this orgasm goes supernova.

Oh, he's on his side now, definitely tied by the gorgeous man spooning him. Words slowly start making sense, Dean's mind is kinda overloaded still, “.... Milked my cock, fuck, I'm going to live in this hole.”

Dean slurs some sounds, intending to say I'm amenable.

Cas really knows every language and understood Fucked Senseless, “Mmhmm, you'll stay just this soft and sweet, my mate to take care of and fill. Here, feel this,” Cas pulls Dean's hand to his abdomen. “Feel how full you are.”

Pressing against the bulge– holy Ozzy there's a bulge! “Cas!”

“You'll get used to it, you need my seed.”

He does, he really does. Focusing on the sensations in his hole, the heat keeps spreading as Cas constantly pours more cum and that huge knot keeps Dean plugged. Neither of them stop rubbing Dean's belly and it's really nice, but he whimpers when the knot goes down, “I was so comfy.”

“I've never cuddled before. This is special, Dean.’

“Sure is, Alpha.”

Lips press against his temple, then Cas pats his hip, “Up, baby, on your feet.”

Yeah, Dean moves but not without dramatics, “I vote no walking.”

“I second that,” Cas rolls to sit at the edge, his eyes are staring at… what?

Oh, Dean feels it a second before it happens and that's too late; his rim is too battered and weak to hold up, let alone clench, and crumbles under the deluge. There's a gush and his legs are wet and he's standing in a puddle as a stream keeps running from his wrecked hole. It's cum, that's a puddle of Cas' cum, gotta be a gallon and it's everywhere and Dean's shaking like a plucked wire.

Cas swipes fingers through the spreading pool saturating the floor, “Such a messy Omega. Mmm,” he licks his fingers, “you kept my cum nice and warm.”

“For you,” he means it.

“Thank you, my love. Now, what does a good boy do?”

“Clean up my mess.”

“Perfect.”

Yeah, Dean drops to his knees in the still growing puddle and gets licking. He has never been happier, this is bliss.