Chapter Text
Thud.
A small sound seeped into your foggy brain, making you shift a little. Your eyes lifted ever so slightly at the noise, before sliding shut once more, sleep curling thickly around the edges of your consciousness.
Thud. Thud. Thud thud thud.
Once more.
Thud. Thud thud. Thud.
Its persistence perforated your mind fully, shaking away the dusty webs of drowsiness, and as the sight and colour returned to your heavy-lidded eyes it took you a moment to realise that the sound was coming from somewhere outside of your world of comfort.
You sat up, rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn.
Casting a glance over to the clock on your bedside table revealed that it was 2:13 in the morning.
The noise was coming from behind your headboard. More specifically, the noise was coming from somewhere behind you, in a room further down the corridor. The bunker’s spacious rooms and cavernous hallways made sound easily resonate through the air, so much so that you managed to hear the smallest noises even with your door closed.
You were curious yet unafraid; the bunker was well-protected, so it was highly unlikely to be any supernatural being of any sort.
There was more of a chance that it was one of the other inhabitants of the bunker, though that was a little surprising given that you had been the last one to bed.
Not that unexpected though; Dean Winchester was known to get hungry in the middle of the night.
You stretched, throwing the covers off of you and rising out of bed, padding across your room. You reached your door and gently prised it open, the noises rising ever so slightly in volume as you stepped into the hallway.
You closed your door (it kept the icy drafts out) and stood still, cocking your head to the side and waiting until you heard–
It was coming from the left door three doors down from your bedroom.
That was Castiel’s room.
You inhaled sharply without meaning to.
What is he doing?
Well, you were up now, so no point in beating about the bush. You would just go in there, find out what was going on, and then go back to bed. No fuss. Nothing to get worked up about.
You tiptoed across the cold, stony floor, rubbing your arms in an effort to warm your cooling skin. You didn’t think to grab a cardigan, and the air was giving you gooseflesh.
The polished, wooden door of Castiel’s room loomed into your view. From this point the sounds were louder, more defined, and accompanied by what seemed to be sighs of frustration.
Concern curled into your curiosity; you wondered if there was something wrong with him.
“Cas?” You gently rapped your knuckles on the door, so as not to startle him.
A small grunt of surprise came from the other side, and the thudding ceased immediately. You could hear the rustle of fabric and the sharp click of the lock before the door opened, replaced with vivid, blue eyes.
Oh, sweet merciful Jesus.
Castiel was standing in front of you.
In boxers.
And an open dressing gown.
You coughed awkwardly, averting your eyes to the ceiling as a flush bloomed across your face.
It was no secret that you harboured some serious feelings for the fallen angel, but he didn’t make it bloody easy on you. Sometimes you wished you could dump a plastic bag over him; it would make your life a lot easier. You slowly lowered your eyes back to meet his, which were looking at you in interest. His gaze dropped to take in your shorts and tank top, pausing momentarily at the base of your throat before gliding back up to meet your blushing face.
“_____,” he murmured, in a low voice that hit you right in your centre, “is something wrong?”
“Hey, Cas.” The lump in your throat forced his name out on a croak. “No, no, I’m fine.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Alright. Do you need something?”
For you to take off the dressing gown would be a start, you thought fervidly, but decided that that was probably an unwise thing to say. It would open a whole can of worms and you didn’t think you could sit here and explain to Castiel that his vessel’s body was seven kinds of sexy and whether he would mind if you could write your name into his skin with your tongue.
“Y-Yeah, well, I’m here for you a-actually,” you said, stammering whilst trying to rid yourself of those thoughts. You were here for Castiel, remember?
“For me?” he frowned slightly. “I don’t understand.”
“There are weird noises coming from your room. I just wanted to check to see if you were okay.”
All of a sudden, he looked extremely abashed, and his frown deepened. “I woke you up.”
“Well, uh, yeah, but I mean it’s not really a problem, I just wondered–”
“I am deeply sorry, _____,” he said contritely, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay, Cas. What are you doing?”
“I am bouncing a tennis ball,” he clarified patiently. “Sam says it’s a form of stress relief. I had no idea that it would be so loud, I apologise.”
“It’s fine. Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?”
“I am having trouble sleeping,” he explained quietly, and you felt a pang of sympathy as you took in the taut line of his mouth, the dark circles under his eyes, the tense way he held himself, and the unruly hair that looked like agitated fingers had been run through it.
“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely.
“It is not your fault that I cannot sleep,” he said, with a tint of amusement.
You coloured a little. “Have you tried taking a sleeping pill?”
“They have proven to be ineffective,” he groused, running his fingers through his hair.
You pressed your legs together ever so slightly at the action, trying not to dwell on how it made his dressing gown open further, or how it made your stomach glow with heat. “Warm milk?”
“Also ineffective.”
“Counting sheep?”
He looked at you seriously. “I fail to see how counting imaginary animals would help me sleep, _____.”
You grinned in response, before pursing your lip in thought. “Wanna talk about it?”
“About the sheep?”
“About you being unable to sleep.”
Castiel’s eyes suddenly shielded over, and the corners of his mouth tipped down a fraction. “I… would rather not, if you don’t mind. It’s not something I wish to discuss at this present moment.”
“I’m sorry,” you said candidly, wanting to kiss that melancholy expression off of his face. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You weren’t, I just–”
“Cas, s’fine.” You waved him off, smiling. “Really. It’s your business, not mine.”
He ran his slender fingers down the smooth surface of the doorframe, nodding at you in appreciation.
“Just… keep it down, okay?”
“I will. I do apologise, _____. I did not mean to wake you.”
“Don’t sweat it.”
Without realising what you were doing, you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He froze against you for a fraction of second, before winding his own arms around the curve of your back and leaning into the embrace, making goosebumps break out across your bare skin.
“Try to get some sleep, Cas. If you need me I’m just down–”
“Stay,” he croaked, turning his head into the crook of your neck.
What? “What?”
His arms suddenly tightened around you desperately, and he let out a shuddering breath that fanned across your shoulders, making you shiver inwardly. “Stay with me. Please.”
You frowned, worried. “Cas? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t – the nightmares are… they just – please, _____. Stay.”
You lifted your head away from his shoulder to look up at him, your heart immediately breaking at the horrible, pain-etched, weary look on his face.
You knew about nightmares.
You knew what it was like to be in the dark with nothing but your own mind and memories. You forgot that, before he fell, Castiel didn’t dream. It never occurred to you that it must have been terrifying for him.
“Okay,” you replied, seeing relief break across his features as he squeezed you tightly.
You faintly wondered what had him so scared as he pulled you into his room and closed the door.
An hour later, you found yourself laying in Castiel’s bed, your hair fanned around you, his face against the bone of your shoulder and his body melded against your back.
It was all you could do not to roll over and have at him, but you forcibly reminded yourself that, right now, Castiel needed an emotional crutch, not a physical one (woe).
You could never forget the heart-breaking look on his face when he asked you to stay. That was etched in your mind forever.
So, you did what you used to do with your little sister after she used to have nightmares: you’d cuddle with her until her breathing evened out and her body relaxed and she fell back into a dreamless sleep. Sometimes, you’d end up falling asleep with her and your parents would find you both the next morning, in a tangle of sheets and limbs and hair.
You rubbed your nose in distress, pushing those memories as far away as you could.
That was a long time ago.
Still, you thought the same idea could generally apply here with Castiel, especially since human contact seemed to calm him down greatly. He still didn’t want to talk about it, so you had crawled into bed and kept close proximity to him, thankful that it seemed to ease his stress.
Plus, there was no denying that you were getting a little something out of it too.
You were in bed. With Castiel.
The warmth emanating from his body seared through your own, and an ache was growing in between your legs at the strong arm wrapped around your stomach.
Castiel didn’t know the ins and outs of appropriate body contact, he didn’t realise that this position could be misconstrued to any who walked in on you right now, but for some reason you couldn’t care less. You would just drift off to sleep, wake up in the morning and deposit the memory of his body against yours into your spank bank permanently. Although, there was no way in hell that you were falling asleep any time soon, not with that body tucked up against you.
Good Lord, did he choose wisely with his vessel. How Jimmy Novak’s wife ever let him leave the bed was a complete mystery to you.
“_____.” Your eyes drifted closed with pleasure at the rumbling way in which Castiel spoke your name.
“Yes?”
He shifted a little, and his hand squeezed your hip gently. “Thank you. For staying with me.”
You turn your head to look at him, heart leaping at those soft, blue eyes staring back at you. “It’s perfectly alright, Cas. I know that having someone with you can be comforting.”
“Comforting.” He thoughtfully repeated the word to himself. “Yes, very much so. Your presence is undoubtedly soothing.”
“I’m glad.”
“My mind is not as restless as before.”
“That’s good. Try to sleep a little, Cas. You look tired.”
As if on cue, you felt a small rush of air as he yawned against your arm. “I feel tired.”
“Sleep.”
He shifted, inadvertently snuggling closer to you, and you had a moment of oh dear Lord before you coughed and cast your eyes on the ceiling, your thoughts whirling around in your head.
Angel on you. Fallen angel. Sexy angel. With a sexy body. Shut up. Stop that. He’s in boxers. Heaven, help me.
It was going to be a long night.
You had no idea when you had fallen asleep but you had, because you awoke on your side, with your hands tucked under your head and on your stomach, Castiel’s body spooning you from behind, and a tight pressure somewhere below your ribcage.
A grunt, then a soft hiss, pulled you further out of sleep.
Castiel’s fingers were flexing against the bow of your hip, and his body was so tightly slotted against your own that it was hard to tell where you ended and he began. You felt like you were going to drown from the intense heat coming off of his skin. You couldn’t help but shiver at the feel of hot, hard muscle rubbing against your back as you –
Wait a minute.
The last dregs of sleepiness fell away, conscious enveloping you fully.
You suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that Castiel was grinding himself against the curve of your ass.
And he was hard.
He breathed around a moan, canting his hips up against cleft of your clothed butt.
Castiel was hard.
He was as hard as a fucking rock.
And he was rubbing himself against you.
Holy fucking shit.
Okay, okay, okay you had to breathe, breathe, breathe normally damn it because this was like the start of every single fucking fantasy you had ever had about Castiel (and you had a lot of them) and if you started to mentally process whatever the hell was happening here right now you were going to freak the fuck out.
Was he asleep?
Was he dreaming about something (or someone?) and he was acting out his dream?
“Fuck,” he whispered savagely, his breath ghosting against the back of your neck as his straining hardness pushed against you, making liquid heat rush right between your legs.
Nope. Definitely not asleep.
Oh god.
He made a noise of pleasure, drawing out a long, slow thrust that had every nerve in your body tingling.
“Cas,” you unexpectedly groaned aloud.
He went rigid, every muscle freezing at the sound of your voice.
“Cas?” you called out tentatively, peeking over your shoulder.
The realisation of what he had been doing to you dawned on his face, before mortification and horror clouded his features and he leapt away from you with an inhumane noise, stuttering and reddening darkly.
“_____, I… I’m so, so sorry,” he moaned in a strangled tone, shaking violently and staring at you with wide, petrified eyes. “I don’t know what came over me, I… I was stressed and you calmed me, I just – you are a very beautiful woman – I accidentally… I became… I was against you and it felt so good that I just… I just…”
You had rolled over to gaze at him, silent, but your heart jumped when he called you beautiful, and a small smile worked at the corner of your lips as you watched him sputter wildly. He trailed off, too humiliated to talk further; meanwhile your eyes had travelled downwards to the impressive bulge straining against his boxers.
Mazel tov, you thought briefly, licking your lips unconsciously.
He followed the direction of your gaze, looking down and letting out an agonising groan at the sight of himself. He pressed a palm against his groin in an attempt to ease the pressure, causing his breath to hitch involuntarily.
Holy shit. You clamped your thighs together firmly, feeling your dampness rapidly growing at the unbelievably hot-as-fuck sight of Castiel all open-mouthed and heavy-lidded whilst cupping himself.
“I’m so sorry,” he said again, breathing hard. “This body confuses me. It reacts to… I was–”
“Cas,” you said calmly, breaking your silence. He stopped talking instantly. “Get back over here.”
His eyebrows drew together in confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“Stop apologising and get back over here,” you repeated, growing bolder with every passing moment.
You had just been a part of the most arousing moment of your entire life, a moment involving Castiel, and he was apologising? Was he actually kidding?
Hesitantly, he slowly moved back over to you, fearful and wanting to curl up and die with shame.
As he closed the distance between you two, he licked his lips nervously, and the motion had your mind shutting down as you imagined just what he could do with that tongue.
He was barely a foot away before you curled your hands around the lapels of his dressing gown, hauled him towards you and kissed him furiously.
To say he was astonished was an understatement. His mouth dropped open in surprise, granting you access to it, and take advantage of it you did.
Your lips slanted across his own perfectly, and you couldn’t help but groan against his mouth as you licked experimentally, sucking his bottom lip in between your own and softly tugging with your teeth.
It was like a shot.
His arms were around you before you could blink and he was suddenly kissing you back every bit as passionately as you were kissing him. Your hands were fisting his hair and he was palming your thigh, bringing it up and wrapping it around his hip. All the while he kept on kissing you, grounding himself against you and your mouth, the sound of smacking lips filling your ears.
“I… I don’t… what’s going…” he said in harsh pants, making only half-sense.
“I know,” you replied, not knowing.
“_____,” he grumbled against your mouth, running his hands up and down your back.
“Yeah?”
He tipped his head down, an open-mouthed kiss running down the length of your neck that left you quivering in his arms. “I am confused.”
“Do you know where this is heading?” you whispered against his mouth, dropping to kiss his jaw.
“Yes,” he moaned, as you ran your tongue along the line of it.
“Do you want it?” He tipped his head back as you lowered your mouth to suck hard against his pulse.
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
A pause. Then: “No.”
“Well, then.”
“Do you want to stop?” he asked you, biting his lip as your teeth grazed against his throat.
“Hell no.”
You had no idea where this bout of confidence had come from, but you thanked the heavens for it as he panted against your mouth and tightened his hold on you.
You didn’t want to think about the implications of this in the morning, you didn’t want to question what was happening; the only thing you wanted to do was to have Castiel. It seemed that he more than reciprocated those feelings, as he began to do what had started all of this in the first place: he began to grind against you, groaning at the delicious friction.
“Tell me what you want, Cas.”
“I want… I want…” He suddenly looked up at you, and you had to bite back a groan as he stared at you with a dark, lustful expression. “I want to come against your ass.”
“Whoa,” you exhaled fervently, a little shocked and a lot turned on with that small display of dominance. “Have you been listening to Dean or something?”
“No.”
That wasn’t what you expected him to say. Like ever. You didn’t even know that ex-angels could want that kind of thing, or even knew what it was.
“I want to grind against you, like before, and I want to come against you. I want you to feel the reality of what you’re doing to me,” he rasped, looking at you intently.
To hear him talk like that, to hear him say something so dirty to you was such a turn on that a fresh pulse of wetness soaked through your core, slicking your underwear.
Where the hell did he learn to talk like that? Was this the same Castiel from two minutes ago?
You could do nothing but mutely nod at him, having never wanted anything more in your entire life.
“Turn around,” he said hoarsely.
Instead of allowing you to do so yourself, his dexterous hands deftly spun you to face the other way, away from him, almost as if you were a ball he was simply rolling across the table. He was now spooning against you like he had been earlier. His strong arm snaked around your waist and pulled you forcefully against him, taking care to let a leisurely thrust of his hips roll against your skin, making you whimper with need. He hooked a leg over yours and splayed his hand possessively across your stomach, grinding harshly against your ass.
Hot, feverish lips found purchase behind your ear, kissing heatedly, leaving little nips along the fleshy lobe. His name left your lips against a sigh.
“Pull your underwear down,” he commanded, unhooking himself from you and tracing a finger across the elastic band of your shorts so as to emphasise his point.
Your hands scrambled downwards, practically ripping the bottom half of your clothes off in a haste to rid yourself of them. Castiel pulled away from you, and you heard the whisper of fabric for a split second before hot skin reappeared against your back, and you couldn’t help the loud moan escape you because Castiel was now naked against you, fully, fully naked in all his naked glory, oh god–
You inhaled sharply as his free hand roamed the cheeks of your ass, grunting in appreciation, before moving lower and lower to where you needed him –
“Cas!” you yelped as fingers stroked the outside of your sex, your hand flying up to grip his hair in an effort to ground yourself to him.
“So wet,” he growled against the line of your shoulder, tracing the line of your collarbone with his tongue, continuing with the ministrations against your core. “Females become wet as a result of arousal. Are you aroused, _____? Do I make you wet?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” you gasped, tipping your head back as he pushed through your entrance, feeling your walls close instinctively around him. “Castiel!”
“I like the way you moan my name,” he muttered, moving his other hand from your stomach down to circle your clit.
You gasped at the contact, lifting your hips to meet his hand, your heightened state of arousal pushing you ever closer to sweet release.
“Cas…”
“Turn your head to me.”
You complied willingly, lips coming down to kiss and nibble and suck and nip at your mouth, all the while fingers stroking and circling and gently thrusting against your core, and the combination was so delightfully intense that you were pushed over the edge mere seconds later, clamping tightly around Castiel’s fingers as you came undone beneath his ministrations. You moaned shamelessly against his mouth, pleasure pulsing through every nerve of your body as his adept fingers worked you through the waves of your orgasm.
When your mind cleared from the haze of your climax, Castiel was leaving little butterfly kisses against your neck, and you groaned as he pulled his hands out from between your thighs, resettling on your hips, leaving trails of your wetness across your skin.
His thrusting against you, which had slowed down a little when he had begun to explore you, suddenly picked up pace again, and soon he was rutting hard against you, his straining cock slipping against the cleft of your ass, finding friction there.
He was grunting, locking his legs around yours to rub himself even harder against you. You fisted his hair in response, earning you a growl in response, and you bit your lip as his hips bucked quicker. His voice pitched higher as his body worked faster; he was almost there.
“You’re close,” you whispered, and he moved his forehead to rest gently against the back of your neck.
“Close,” he echoed around a groan, his breath ghosting in hot puffs at the base of your neck and making you shiver.
His thrusts were becoming erratic now, and you reached up to kiss him. He lifted his head and latched onto your lips hungrily, moaning into your mouth.
His grip on your hips suddenly tightened to a bruising point, his entire body stiffened and a cry of pleasure left his lips as he came hard against the curve of your ass, his body shuddering intensely as hot wetness seeped into the small of your back with every wave of his climax. His cock jerked and throbbed throughout, his kisses becoming uncoordinated as his release worked through him, and he held onto you all the while, keening and groaning your name against your mouth.
Panting and shaking with exertion, you could feel a heaviness seep into your limbs as a calm settled across the pair of you. Castiel’s grip relented ever so slightly as he cocked his head to look into your eyes.
“Was that… acceptable?” he asked, a little breathless.
“Cas, that was unreal.”
He blushed in spite of himself. “I… did not see this coming.”
“Neither did I,” you answered honestly, giggling at his choice of words.
“I enjoyed that.”
“Me too.”
You sat up, grimacing a little at the sticky mess covering your back, more than a little proud of it.
“Where are you going?” he queried, a faint alarm in his voice.
Your chest warmed at the fact that he didn’t want you to leave. “I need to clean myself, Cas. I’ll be back.”
You went and did so, returning minutes later to find Castiel cleaned and laying in the middle of the bed. At your return, he said nothing, but silently lifted the bedcovers, soft eyes boring into your own.
Smiling, you climbed in.