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There are times Castiel wishes his alcohol tolerance level was lower. A lot lower. He's matched Sam and Dean drink for drink individually, ended up drinking twice as much as either one of them; but while Sam is gurgling at the pictures on the menu, and Dean seems to be having trouble reaching the bar without using random strangers as impromptu crutches, Castiel barely feels anything.
Actually, that isn't strictly true. There's a burning sickness in his stomach, that curls up around his heart, as the last stranger between Dean and the bar peels off from his friends and follows Dean, with one arm braced on his elbow in support.
They're laughing. The man motions the bartender over, murmurs something and licks his lips, glancing at Dean. They're standing too close. Castiel doesn't have to be able to read the man's mind to know what's on it, his whole being is screaming sex, and it's focused on Dean.
Castiel watches the man slide a shot across the bar, pressing it into Dean's hand and closing his fingers around it with a wink. He likes to think Dean only grins at the stranger like that because he's drunk. He watches Dean tip his head back, raising the glass to his lips, and Castiel thinks that he really must talk to him about the dangers of accepting drinks from strangers.
Dean tips the shot glass too early; some spills over his lips and Castiel is transfixed, watching his tongue lazily lick over his lips, he can't stop staring as a single drop escapes, sliding down his full lower lip, over the rough stubble of his chin and flows slowly down the stretched length of Dean's neck. His stare is broken only when a hand falls on Dean's shoulder and the stranger leans forward, licking his lips with eyes glued to the droplet, clearly intending to sample it.
Before he's even aware of having moved and without conscious thought, Castiel finds himself sliding between the two men, arm wrapping around Dean's waist as he licks a long stripe up his neck, fingers tightening in their grip on his hip. The stranger behind him stutters a protest, but he's long forgotten as Dean's fingers curl into the angel's hair and Castiel mouths against his neck, teeth biting his claim before lips and tongue sooth the bruised skin. He shifts, hips pinning Dean to the bar, and Dean tugs on his hair, pulling his face up so he can ask him if he's lost his mind entirely.
But Castiel doesn't let him, he bends Dean further backwards over the bar and presses their lips together, it's a bruising, biting, possessive kiss which, the angel hopes, leaves nobody in any doubt of exactly what the situation is here. He can feel Dean hard against his hips and shifts, pressing himself close, and Dean cries out.
"Fuck Cas!"
And then Castiel has backed off, and Dean is left looking stunning and more than a little lost. He looks at Dean casually, and turns away, stalking slowly back to their table. Dean is blushing furiously, he's well aware from the silence and hushed whispers that nobody could have failed to notice that little public display of possession.
Or, as it turns out, nobody apart from Sam.
Who is passed out on the floor. With a pink cocktail umbrella in his hair. And a straw up his nose. What the hell, Dean thinks - because none of them had a drink with umbrellas. Or straws.
He mumbles something about driving them back, throws some casual joke out about Sam's girlish inability to hold his drink, but he makes the mistake of looking at Cas. And that smouldering, simmering, look he's giving him combines with the last shot and he's swears he doesn't mean it, but the hand that was meant to go for his pocket for his keys ends up palming his half hard cock through his jeans. Castiel just raises an eyebrow at him, then there's cool fingers touching his forehead and there's silence and darkness of a sleazy motel.
Castiel tosses Sam onto the bed, and Dean absently thinks that he's impressed that his freaky giant of a brother can sleep through that, but then there's fingers on his forehead again. He doesn't really register the change; one motel room is the same as the next when you've seen as many as Dean has.
Castiel shoves him against the wall, ignoring the way he winces as his head hits the wall, and then there's chapped lips sliding roughly against his again. Dean knows that they can do the slow, soft, kissing - knows that they're good at it - but he loves it when Cas gets all hot and hard like this; teeth nipping and stubble scraping roughly as he's pinned against the wall. And, fuck, Cas' hand is closing around his throat and Dean really shouldn't get off on that as much as he does.
There's fingers digging into the soft flesh of his neck and a hand palming him through his jeans and if he had the air to spare right now, he'd be moaning.
"Dean Winchester." Cas' voice is dark and stormy, Dean thrusts up into his palm reflexively at the sound of it and manages a single strangled whimper in response.
"I take my eyes off of you for a matter of seconds." The words are slow, deliberate, Dean can't drag his eyes away from the path Cas' tongue makes as it licks his lips when he pauses, "A mere matter of seconds, and you're already throwing yourself at some human man." The last words are spat out between gritted teeth and, if it weren't for the hand that's tugging his jeans and boxers down, soft fingers wrapping around his cock, Dean thinks he'd be insulted.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" The pressure on his throat lessens, and he draws in a ragged breath but doesn't manage a response before it's back again. "Nothing, of course. You're just so fucking wanton that you're willing to fling yourself at whatever will have you."
Dean's finding it hard to follow more than one train of thought at the moment, and the hand wrapped around his cock is doing truly sinful things; he doesn't know where Cas learnt this from, because he's pretty sure it's something Heaven looks down upon, but he isn't going to complain. Long fingers tease the tip of his length, thumb swiping slowly through the slit and smearing precome over the head, moving away from his cock to fondle his balls before wrapping around his cock and stroking him in strong, sure, strokes. He lets his eyes slide closed, a whimper escaping from his throat.
The hand on his throat shakes him, knocking his head against the wall again, and Cas' lips are against his ear, words hissing hot and angry, "You will fucking look at me, Dean Winchester." God, the way Cas says his name makes his cock twitch, and he's close to coming already, "You will look at me when I'm doing this to you. I want you to see me, I don't want you to imagine anyone else here."
And he manages to open his eyes and Fuck. He's never seen Cas' eyes so dark, he's so angry; his whole body seems to be trembling, vibrating with it. And Dean knows he shouldn't get on that either, but he does; some sick and twisted part of him loves corrupting the angel, turning him into this.
"This is what you want, isn't it? You want to leave me, as long as someone is seeing to your pleasure it doesn't really matter, does it?" That isn't really fair, Dean thinks. He'd like to touch Cas now, run his fingers over his smooth skin, but the angel appears to be trying to make a point to Dean's oxygen-lacking brain.
"As someone has their hand or lips wrapped around your cock, as long as there's some warm body for you to fuck into, as long as you get to come…" Dean is so close, he's thrusting up into Cas' fist, hips snapping forwards and he's panting for breath, straining against Castiel's hand.
And then it's suddenly all gone, he's crumpled on the floor, and still so hard; so achingly hard. His hand creeps down to his cock, just one touch, it's all he needs, he just needs….
"Don't. Don't you dare." Cas is over in the shadows by the bed, and he needs….
"If you touch yourself, I'm gone. Right this second." Dean whimpers and drops his hand, eyes sliding shut.
"Cas…" His voice is rough, bruised, and that's going to be a bitch to explain tomorrow. "Cas, I just need…"
Castiel is suddenly back, crowding in on him, fingers clenched in his shirt and pulling him up. "What about me, Dean? You think I don't need?" Cas grinds their hips together and Dean moans at the contact, thrusting back against him.
"Yes Cas, you need." He isn't sure what he's saying, hopes it makes sense. He needs this, fuck, does he need this. "You need me. I need you, please?" He licks his lips, glances at Cas from under his lashes; hits him with his best bedroom eyes. "Need to be inside of you; you need me inside of you, fucking you so deep, so hard."
A dark chuckle is all the warning Dean has, and the only thought that comes to mind is Oh fuck. Oops. There's clothes ripping Dean's clothes away from his body and he'd ordinarily be complaining, but it's so fucking hot that he can't bring himself to care right now.
"That isn't the way this is going to work tonight, Dean." He's thrown onto the bed and Castiel's naked body covers his, their cocks sliding together with delicious friction.
"Hey. How come only my clothes needed destroying?"
"I am not the one that needs to be taught a less on here, Dean."
"I never was any good at school, Cas." He means it to be part playful, part threatening, but the angel's teeth bite into his shoulder, worrying the skin, and it comes out as a breathless moan. Not nearly as tough-guy as he was planning for.
Castiel is mapping a steady path down Dean's body, teeth and tongue marking his favourite spots, nipping and dragging to remind Dean who he belongs to; his teeth tease a nipple and elicit a sinful moan. He lets Dean's hands fist in the sheets as he brushes his lips oh-so-lightly over his cock, tongue trailing lazily over his balls and brushing by his perineum. He kisses Dean's entrance, an oddly tender gesture, and swipes his tongue flat over it before circling it, teasing. Tongue gently pressing inside, probing.
Dean doesn't realise that Cas' tongue has been replaced with a lube-slicked finger until it's curling against his prostate and his hips buck up with the suddenness of it.
"You like that?" He has no idea how Cas' voice is so calm, even as he's sliding another finger inside him. "You like being my bitch, don't you?"
The fingers press over his prostate again and, no matter how hard Dean is biting his lip, he can't prevent that moan from breaking out.
Cas chuckles darkly, "Of course you do. You're a lazy whore, you love it when someone else does the work."
There's three fingers pressing inside him now, and that's a stretch and a burn that Dean isn't used to and he whimpers because of that. Not because of the totally unangelic words that are falling from Castiel's lips.
"I'm going to fuck you open with my dick in a moment." And again with the fucking calm thing. It must be an angel trick. Seriously. It's starting to piss Dean off, how calm and unaffected Cas seems.
"I'm going to use you, you're just going to be a tool for my pleasure. I may let you come, I'll see how I'm feeling." Still so calm, so god damned controlled. Dean is going to see if he can do something about that.
"I'll go straight back to that bar." He gives Cas his best tough-guy look, wills it to look convincing even while he knows his voice is broken and shaking, "I'll keep going back until I find someone who will let me; someone who wants my come."
Cas doesn't look so unaffected anymore, but the look of raw pain and uncertainty that flashes across his face is enough for Dean to stop the whole thing right there. He's about to say it, but he's suddenly empty, lacking and then, just as suddenly, there's a blunt hardness pressing inside of him.
Castiel snaps his hips forward, sheathing himself inside of Dean in one smooth thrust, holding him while the man gasps against his shoulder. His fingers run through Dean's hair, a tender gesture which seems out of place amongst the anger and force they've been up until now. He presses a kiss to the crook of Dean's neck and whispers into his ear, voice hot and totally filthy, "You wouldn't fucking dare. By the time I'm done with you, you won't even be able to walk."
Dean thrusts his hips up at that, as Cas rolls his hips, and both moan at the way Cas' cock drives impossibly deeper inside of him.
"You whore, I'm going to make you beg for it." Castiel is setting a bruising pace, forcing Dean to adjust as each thrust is harder, faster, deeper, than the last.
"You don't deserve me making you come." Dean's eyes are screwed shut, teeth clamped down on his lower lip, Castiel thinks it'd be the hottest thing he's ever seen, if Dean would just keep his eyes open.
"Eyes." He barks and, to Dean's credit, they fly open immediately. "If you stop looking at me for more than a second, I'm going to pull out of you, force your pretty lips around my cock until I come down your throat, and then I'm going to go."
"Fuck yes. I'm sorry, Castiel.." The angel wasn't expecting that, since when does Dean use his whole name and, seriously, when has Dean ever apologised?
He's caught off guard again by Dean's next words, his voice moaning and broken, "I don't want any of the others, anyone else, I want you, Castiel." He's caught so off guard that he doesn't realise how close to the edge he was until it's too late, and he's coming inside Dean with a strangled moan, fingers gripping onto the man's tightly enough to leave bruises.
And, despite what he's been saying, that wasn't the plan. Not yet, anyway.
Castiel allows himself a second of embarrassment, pressing his face between Dean's neck and the scratchy motel pillow, before pulling out and moving silently down the man's body. He presses his tongue inside Dean, loving the way he can taste himself in the most intimate part of the man. He fucks him with his tongue and fingers, revelling in the noises Dean makes, he's crying out unashamedly now, cursing and blessing Castiel at once. Crooking two fingers to brush Dean's prostate, Cas moves his mouth to his cock and sucks on it eagerly, moaning around it as Dean tightens around his fingers.
Lips and tongue teasing the head once, he takes all of Dean into his mouth, until his nose is pressed into his pubic hair, presses one more finger inside of him. And Dean is practically sobbing as he comes down Castiel's throat, whimpering and whining as the angel swallows, sucking and licking softly at him until he softens, pulling off him and glancing up to meet his eyes, suddenly uncertain.
Dean wraps his fingers into the angel's hair, tugging him up into a kiss; one of the soft, slow, ones that they're so good at. These types of kisses always seem so much better after sex so hard and bruising. Dean rolls them, easily taking control, slides his tongue inside Cas' mouth and he can taste himself and Cas too and, fuck that's hot.
He nuzzles Cas' face, pressing soft kisses to the angel's sweat slick brow.
"I love you, stupid."
Cas' smile still doesn't seem certain, and Dean has to kiss him again to convince him. And once more to be sure. And then again, because better safe than sorry, right?
"Love you too, Dean."
And later, when they've showered and are in bed, Dean wrapped so tightly around Castiel like he's scared he'll lose, scared he'll fly away if he doesn't grip him tightly enough, he takes the angel's hand, entwines their fingers, and presses them to Cas' chest.
"As if I'd even look at anyone else when I have my angel."