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"My boy."
The words are a low rumble against Dean’s ear, breath soft and hot along his cheek, like the lick of a flame. Dean sighs, pushing further back against Castiel, nestling himself snugly against the dragon’s humanoid body. While Castiel’s true form is magnificent, a towering beast that could level a mountain on a bad day, this form is mostly man, save for the scales that decorate his arms and legs, the spiraling horns atop his head, the enormous leathery wings tucked at his back, and various other traits that send more shivers down Dean’s spine than he can count.
“My precious human,” Castiel continues to coo, gently running the tips of his claws along Dean’s hairline, trailing down his temple and jawline.
It’s the kind of luxury that Dean’s never known, nor would he ever have imagined, being the consort of a dragon. When he’d first been chosen as a sacrifice to appease the monster living atop the mountain looming over his village, Dean had been quick to make peace with his family, his gods and himself.
Maybe that’s what made staying so easy.
Dean tilts his head to the side, lets Castiel lave his tongue along the crook of his neck. Castiel’s tongue is textured with tiny rounded barbs that tickle every inch of Dean’s skin; Sometimes it makes him laugh, reduces him to tearful fits of laughter as Castiel pins him down and mercilessly licks clean every one of his most sensitive spots.
Right now, it’s just worsening the throb of his cock beneath the weight of his golden adornments.
“Cas,” Dean breathes, tilting his head back, attempting to tease Castiel into a kiss, but he’s avoided. Castiel simply continues his ministrations, holding Dean’s jaw aside in one clawed hand while he licks further down, circling Dean’s shoulder. Despite his apparent aloofness, Dean can feel the pulse of Castiel’s cock against his back.
At his thigh, Dean feels the slide of Castiel’s tail curling around the limb, gripping and easing his legs further apart, to which Dean eagerly responds, spreading both legs. He feels Castiel smile into the crook of his neck. “We’ve mated twice today,” Cas reminds Dean gently, sliding up to catch the lobe of Dean’s ear between his pointed teeth, careful not to bite too hard. “Can you take me again?”
It’s a fair question, Dean knows. Sex with Castiel is incredible, overwhelming… exhausting. It frays Dean in ways he didn’t know were possible, splits him wide and fills in every empty space in him with agonizingly sweet heat, but no matter how terribly Dean falls apart, Castiel is always there to put him back together. He balances every discomfort with repose, and takes such exquisite care of him that Dean doesn’t care how many times he’s burned, scratched or rubbed raw. Cas makes it worth it.
“Take me,” Dean murmurs, shivering as Castiel’s tail slides up the length of his thigh, slipping between his legs and stroking along his hole, still wet with oils and the remains of Castiel’s last orgasm. “You healed away all the evidence,” he goes on to say, head thumping back against Castiel’s shoulder as the tip of his tail slides passed Dean’s rim, fucking him slowly back open. Dean groans. “Give me something to remember this time.”
Dean knows he’s won when Cas snarls low in his ear, and he gives a clipped cry when Castiel is suddenly lifting him, pushing him forward and down into the plush pile of furs and bedding, tail slipping free. Clawed hands fall immediately on Dean’s thighs, biting into the skin, just on the right edge of painful, and yanking him back.
To say that Castiel is well-endowed would be a discredit. It’s inhuman, naturally, and as Dean feels the blunt head of it pushing at his filthy wet rim, he can’t help but push back into it. “Now,” Dean pleads, agonized by the slow, slow rolls of Castiel’s hips that only help to inch his cock into Dean’t hole. “Need it, please. Castiel—“
Castiel hushes him, soothes his scaled hands up and down Dean’s sides. “I will always satisfy you,” he growls, his voice more dragon than human. Dean’s response is cut short when Castiel’s tail finds the part of his lips, sliding in and pushing the taste of them both onto Dean’s tongue. Dean moans shamelessly around it and sucks, and only then does Castiel start to fuck Dean in earnest, each bump along his shaft catching on Dean’s rim and earning a full-body shiver.
“I will make this world yours. Riches, food, my cock,” Castiel lists between thrusts, holding Dean steady as he fucks him from either end. “You will want for nothing.”
Dean’s gasps are stifled around Castiel’s tail, each one turning more sob-like as he’s fucked hard, the scales on Castiel’s thighs chafing the backs of Dean’s, the bumps along Castiel’s dick too much to take, the heat of him slowly starting to overwhelm, but Dean would never ask him to stop. He wants this too badly, needs it.
Dean cries out as Castiel’s claws bite into the skin of his hips, drawing blood, but the smell of it only frenzies Castiel further, has him thrusting so hard Dean can’t balance himself on his arms anymore. Dean collapses forward, face down in the covers while Castiel jerks him back onto his cock like he weighs nothing at all.
Dean’s orgasm barely registers against all of the other sensations, nothing but a wet splatter to his stomach and a ripple of release through him, but it’s still a relief, a loss of tension. Dean goes entirely limp in Castiel’s grip, his jaw slack as Castiel’s tail continues to fill his mouth.
When Castiel comes, Dean yells, but it’s lost under the magnitude of the roar Castiel lets loose, a sound that quakes Dean’s very bones, and the rush of heat that floods through him, Castiel’s come, is more intense than any orgasm he’s ever had.
There’s so much of it, more than Dean can take, and it spills in hot drips down Dean’s raw thighs, along his balls and his dick. Dean’s sobbing as a second orgasm is ripped from him, his senses so overloaded that he finally reaches the point where the pain and the pleasure balance out into a pleasantly numb tingle.
Slowly, gently, Dean is eased down completely onto the bedding. Dean knows he loses consciousness somewhere between Cas setting him down and the feel of a tongue gliding along his skin, but time is a weak and inconsequential thing in these moments. For all Dean knows, Cas could have just started grooming him, or he could have been at it for hours.
“Gods,” Dean slurs, loose-limbed and splayed out on his back. He hears a chuckle, feels it against the back of his thigh, then the slow swipe of Castiel’s tongue.
“Yes, I’m sure the Gods heard you from their perch,” Cas agrees, easing Dean’s leg down. Neither of his thighs burn, so Dean knows Castiel’s had enough time to heal that much. There’s still pain in his hips, though, the puncture wounds left by Castiel’s claws continuing to bleed lightly.
“I thought dragons didn’t believe in the gods,” Dean tries to say, but in reality, it sounds more like,“I th’ dr’gns d’n’t belive’n th’ gods.”
“We don’t,” Castiel concedes, bowing down between Dean’s legs. Dean’s body gives a lazy jerk when Castiel starts lapping at the mess he’s made of Dean’s hole. “But you do.”
Dean smiles crookedly, closing his eyes as Castiel takes his time cleaning every inch of Dean’s quivering body, soothing his nerves and healing away the damage done. When Castiel reaches the marks on Dean’s hips, however, Dean finds the strength to lift his arm and touch Castiel’s jaw, catching his attention.
“Leave those,” Dean says hoarsely, studying the way Castiel reacts, the narrowing of his eyes. “Told you I wanted somethin’ to remember.”
Smoke pours from between Castiel’s lips as he sighs, the heat of it rolling over Dean’s skin. He’s never really understood Dean’s sense of sentimentality in regards to his own body, his wish to retain certain scars or bruises when Castiel could easily heal them away, but more and more he finds himself appreciating it.
Castiel licks his fingers, smooths them gently over the open wounds, using just enough saliva to stop the bleeding, but not enough to heal them completely.
“My strange human,” Castiel purrs as he crawls up the length of Dean’s body, looming over Dean on his hands and knees. He leans forward to kiss him, trailing his lips along Dean’s jaw, alternating between kisses and long affectionate strokes of his tongue. “My Dean.”