Chapter Text
Dean stomped back into his room and slammed the door.
“Fucking Gabriel,” he said, throwing himself on the bed next to Cas.
Cas stroked his hair. “He will be fine, Dean. And it is our fault he’s not in here, after all.”
“Sammy’s a big boy,” Dean grumbled. “He can take care of himself.”
“It would appear he is taking care of himself.”
“Wait, you don’t think they actually were -- Sam’s not -- God, fucking Gabriel!” he said again.
“Would that be so bad?” Cas asked.
“What? Yes! Jesus Christ, it’s fucking Loki!”
“Gabriel cares very much about Sam, Dean.”
Dean’s hackles were still up and his mood showed no sign of lightening. Cas watched him thoughtfully.
“Dean?” he asked.
“Yeah?”
“Would you teach me how to -- how to do what you did to me in the shower?”
Heat flared in Dean’s chest. He knew perfectly well that Castiel was trying to distract him, and his dick informed him that he was perfectly all right with that, thank you very much.
“You want me to give you blowjob lessons?”
Castiel nodded, almost shyly. Which was ridiculous, as they had begun the day with the angel buried to the hilt in Dean’s ass, and he was certainly not fucking shy about that.
“Uh, Cas, based on what I now know about your mouth, I don’t think you’re gonna need lessons, buddy.”
Cas actually blushed. “It seems more complex,” he said softly. “I -- you don’t have to. I mean, I’m sure I can --”
Dean shut him up, pulling him in for a kiss, slow and sweet.
“Cas, only you would apologize for wanting to suck your boyfriend’s dick as good as you can, dude.”
Cas smiled. “Are -- are you my boyfriend?”
Dean paused; he hadn’t really given it any thought before the word slipped out. He shrugged. “Well, I think we tumbled past the lines of friendship somewhere when you were coming down my throat,” he said with a short laugh.
Cas was looking at him with a soft smile. He leaned in to kiss Dean again, then copied Dean’s actions of the night before, sliding his mouth down his throat and across his chest, sucking briefly on a nipple.
Dean’s breathing hitched. “Dude,” he managed, “if you get any better with your tongue you might actually kill me.”
“Mmm,” Cas said in reply, mouthing down Dean’s stomach. He slipped his fingers under the waistband of Dean’s boxers, and Dean lifted his hips so he could tug them off.
The sight of Castiel kneeling between his legs inches from his cock, staring up at him and biting his lower lip, put Dean teetering on the brink before Cas even touched him. Cas leaned down and hesitantly licked the wetness on the tip, and Dean clenched the sheets in his hands.
“Fuck. Uh. Yes. Good,” he panted. “I’m -- I’m not going to fucking last long enough to give -- much of a lesson. You make me f-feel like a teenager.” He took a few deep, steadying breaths. “OK. You -- you can start like that, using your -- your lips and tongue to kind of -- explore, I guess. No teeth, that’s r-rule number one.”
Castiel nodded and obeyed, sliding open-mouthed kisses down Dean’s length. He licked a hot flat stripe back up then lingered on the head. It felt almost reverent, like his mouth was a prayer, tracing psalms with the tip of his tongue.
“Oh, fuck, Cas, stop, stop, Jesus, stop,” Dean gasped. Cas drew back instantly, wide-eyed.
“Did I --”
“No, you did not fucking do anything wrong. You did the furthest from anything wrong it is possible to do. I just -- hold on.”
Cas nodded, and while the sight of the angel’s unearthly eyes shining up at him in the darkness while his fingertips danced up and down Dean’s legs and stomach was not particularly effective in controlling his arousal, after a minute or two he managed to get some semblance of a hold on himself.
“OK,” he said. “OK. The next thing is to -- to take me inside your mouth. It, uh. It might be uncomfortable at first, and -- if it’s hurting you, or -- or it’s hard to breathe, stop right away, OK, Cas? It gets a lot easier with practice, and you don’t need to -- to -- oh holy fucking Christ oh fuck.”
Cas had wrapped his lips around the head of Dean’s cock and was sucking gently, pressing his tongue against the tip, applying hot wet pressure all over. He clenched his hands on Dean’s thighs and sank slowly down, and yes, this lesson was over, Dean’s lost the capacity for coherence, can’t even summon any profanity.
“Cas,” he finally choked out. “Cas, Cas, Cas, gonna -- gonna --”
Cas dug his fingernails into Dean’s legs, and Dean saw the barest hint of a nod. His ears were actually ringing and his vision was beginning to go fuzzy. Cas finally took him all the way down his throat, locking eyes with Dean as his lips met his groin, and Dean was coming so hard it hurt, arching and spasming, and in some very, very distant corner of his brain he wondered if he were actually having a heart attack.
Castiel pulled off slowly, worshipfully, and crawled up the bed to straddle Dean’s lap. Dean slung his arms bonelessly around Cas’ neck and rested his head on his shoulder.
“You,” Dean finally said weakly, “are a little shit. Blowjob lessons. Jesus.”
“Was -- was that OK?” Cas said timidly.
Dean pulled back and gaped at him. “Was that -- wait. Seriously? You seriously did not know what you were doing? It wasn’t just a -- a distraction?”
Cas blinked at him. “It was both,” he said. “I wanted you to feel better. And I wanted to know how to make you feel good. It seemed…” he trailed off. “Did, um… did I do something wrong?”
Dean stared at him in disbelief. Laughter bubbled up in his throat. “Jesus Christ. Cas, I have, quite literally, died and been to Hell, and right now I’m pretty sure I’m still the luckiest dude on the planet. That was amazing. You’re amazing. Jesus.”
Castiel visibly relaxed. He clambered over Dean and scooted up against his side, and Dean dropped his head onto Cas’ shoulder. He was still shaking slightly and Cas wrapped his arm around Dean, pulling him closer, unknowingly mirroring their brothers in the next room.