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When Dean could get Castiel just the right amount of drunk, the once-angel would always begin telling him of what it was to be an angel, how, before he inhabited a vessel, he felt constantly the buzz of his brethren in heaven, was encased by their grace, supporting him. He told Dean in rough, hollow tones of how their energy once clung to him, and how, once upon a time, he felt the joyous rapture of the whole host within him, vibrating as a chorus through his very being.
Some nights, if he hadn’t already passed out by this point in his jagged speech, he would explain that when he took a vessel, he could feel his grace and all the energy of heaven pulsing at his borrowed flesh, how he could feel his own wings wrapped protectively around his vessel when he was not in flight, ethereal not-feathers rubbing pleasantly-- intangible, electric softness at the edge of his being.
Always in different words, sometimes quietly, sometimes almost shouting, he would tell all this to Dean, yet he would always end it with the same sentence. “But now it’s all gone.” At that, he would stare at his glass or his bottle with a face of seemingly new realization at his humanity, his mortality, his aloneness in the universe. Where once he was surrounded by the life of his kind, he was now being pressed on every side by death and hunger and heartache.
Seeing Cas this broken always broke something inside of Dean, too.
Dean tried to help in one of the only ways he knew; carnal pleasure. It was an accident when he found the suit. In all actuality, he found it in a porn video he clicked, misreading the title, but he watched it anyway, was intrigued by the men and women clad in these colorful, skin tight suits that covered every inch of the body and hid absolutely none of it. They called it Zentai. He knew them better as those Morphsuit things he sometimes saw college kids running around in at football games. He wondered how many of them knew that they were decked out in fetishwear-turned-fad.
Dean was not a choosy man when it came to his pornography, and so he came to this pornography, but not before catching a phrase that struck some hazy memory in his mind. One of the actors had said something about how good it felt, how hard he was getting feeling his suit cling to every part of his body, how surrounded he felt, and then the actor proceeded to let out an exaggerated moan. Something clicked inside Dean’s half-bloodless brain at that poorly-projected porn line, something that whispered blasphemously, Cas.
That is why, a few weeks later, he found Cas squinting at the wad of blue fabric in Dean’s hand. “I got something for us, Cas,” explained Dean at the face he was getting. His face reddened slightly as he continued, suddenly unbelieving at how dumb this sounded when he tried to say it out loud. “We’re going to wear these when we have sex—I have one too—and I’ll explain exactly why when we’re at it. It’s, um,” he faltered, secretly hoping Cas would be too aroused later to be concerned about logical explanations, “it’s a surprise.” He paused, looking at Cas, who nodded solemnly, seemingly unfazed by this odd request. Sometimes Dean was damn thankful for Cas’s lack of pride in regards to his body. “Is this okay with you?”
In lieu of response, Cas grasped the cloth and examined it. He tugged at it, tilting his head, rubbing it between his fingers to get a feel for it. A small smile appeared at the corner of his lips at the pleasant sensations it provided. He returned the suit to Dean, meeting his eye. “Yes, I think I’d like that,” he finally answered, and Dean let out a breath. Still smiling, he continued, “All of your suggestions have been very beneficial to our lovemaking, Dean, and I expect this will be no different.”
Dean coughed, attempting to hide his small embarrassment with a grunted “Damn right,” before he grabbed Cas’s wrist and pulled him closer to his bed. “Now I suggest,” he stated with pointed amusement, “we get out of these clothes.”
Leaning forward to take Dean’s lips in his own, Cas began undressing Dean as Dean did the same to him. The two worked each other’s clothing off in their usual patterns, tongues pushing and tasting all the while. When all their garments had been tossed aside, Cas pulled their bodies in close, sealing them together from pelvis to sternum and feeling Dean’s half-hardened length pushing heavy at his thigh. He ran his arms up and down Dean’s back, reveling in the scars and rough spots that he knew so well. Cas loved to feel Dean, loved knowing him with his whole body.
As much as Dean was enjoying the attention he was getting from Cas, he pulled away slowly, breaking the kiss. He did have a plan, after all. “Alright, slow down there, tiger. Remember the suits?” He said more than questioned as he leaned over to grab the blue one from where it had been tossed on the bed. He unzipped it and held it open in front of Cas’s legs. “Here, step in,” Dean instructed, vaguely reminded of the first time he had shown Cas the intricacies of clothing. Cas planted his hand on Dean’s shoulder for support and stepped first one foot, then the other, into the tight cloth.
Dean kissed up Cas’s side as he pulled the suit up Cas’s legs and chest. His mouth halted and lingered at Cas’s neck when Dean had to guide Cas’s arms into the suit’s, sucking a hickey there that made Cas’s breath quicken. When he finished that, he gently pulled the hood over Cas’s face and finally pulled away to zip it together.
“You good?” Dean asked as his fingers left the zipper of Cas’s suit. He saw Cas nod as Dean stepped away from him to get a better look. He did greatly enjoy the way it clung to Castiel’s body, highlighting every bulge of muscle, every sensual curve of him in dark blue, and he knew that it would do the same to his own body. The thought spurred him to action, and within moments, he too was wearing the same skin-tight material.
It felt strange, at first, Dean had to admit, being covered head-to-toe in this black, stretchy suit. It was difficult to see but easy to breathe, even though the moisture from his lips collected at his nose and mouth.
Suddenly he heard Cas groan, and looked up to see him running his hands all along his body, delighting in how every inch of his body was being enclosed, how much like home it felt to be completely surrounded. HIs cock pressing at the suit already. “Dean, this was a very good idea,” he managed through his sounds of bliss.
Dean stepped forward and caught his wrists before he could begin palming himself through the suit. “Not yet, baby, we’re just getting started,” he soothed, gesturing for Cas to lie down on the bed after attempting to peck him on the cheek rather awkwardly with their veiled faces. When Cas lay sprawled out beneath him, he asked seriously, “Do you want me to tie your hands, Cas?”
“No,” he replied, voice rough with arousal, “Not tonight. I want to be able to touch you tonight.” Dean hummed in response, straddled Cas, and set about feeling Cas with his fingertips. He felt Cas’s jaw line, his collarbone, the ripple of muscle in his arms. Cas writhed when Dean rubbed circles into Cas’s palms, already completely hard. Just feeling Cas wriggle beneath him was doing things to Dean, especially since every touch was made somehow unfamiliar by the suit that framed his body.
Cas arched off the mattress as Dean touched him through the fabric, moaned as the hunter’s finger slid all the way down the fabric clinging to Cas’s chest, shuddered as Dean traced the outline of his erection, causing small doses of euphoria to shoot through Cas’s body.
Dean decided that now would be the best time to begin explaining, now that Cas was shuddering and, by the looks of it, dripping onto his own belly. “Is this what it felt like, Cas?” whispered Dean next to Cas’s hooded face, voice steady even as he rubbed at his own aching cock through the dark cloth of his own suit with his free hand. “Is this what it felt like to have grace pushing at your vessel, surrounding you?”
A small crater formed in Cas’s hood as he groaned aloud, clutching at the sheets as he stuttered out a broken “Y-yes, yes…” trailing in his pleasure as Dean began rubbing at Cas’s erection in earnest.
“I wanna make you feel like that, Cas,” said Dean, finding Cas’s head and attempting to circle it with his thumb. “Make you feel like you’re so safe… You’re safe here, Cas…” Dean whispered, and Cas let out a wrecked moan at his words.
Just as he was at the brink of orgasm, Cas suddenly and unexpectedly yanked Dean’s hand away from where it was stroking him. Cas was whimpering even though the action was deliberate. “Angels,” gasped Cas, a wet spot forming at his crotch from the precome he had leaked, “Angels share in their pleasure, Dean. They share in every thought, every sorrow…” Cas reached for Dean, pulling him down to lie down beside him. “Let me show you how it felt, if you can imagine it.”
Taken off guard, Dean obliged, sprawling himself out for Cas to do with what he liked. Cas took a moment to steady his breathing before he began twirling his fingers around Dean’s nipples where they poked through the dark cloth. “There is no physical sensation that can even come close to the sensation that an angel gets when it is joined with the host, Dean,” he explained, voice a little shaky from the need his body felt for release. Cas then propped himself up with his arms on either side of Dean, one knee planted on the bed beside him, and the other leg rubbing against Dean’s bulge. Dean latched his hands onto Cas’s hips as he shuddered with the pleasure of it. He felt his sweat being trapped against his skin, causing it to erupt with chill bumps that each tingled with every minute shift of their bodies.
“What you have given me, though you intended this to be a physical comfort,” Cas continued, “is actually something deeper.” He wasn’t even sure if Dean was listening at this point; the hunter was thrusting his hips up against Cas’s leg and moaning grunting softly. Cas pinned Dean’s hips with his hand to stop this, and Dean whined pitifully when Cas stopped the movement of his thigh against Dean’s erection. “Dean, you have made me aware of certain emotions I felt as an angel,” Cas said. “Safety, comfort, togetherness.” Now he unzipped himself far enough to take down the hood. “And you made me realize,” he said, rubbing at Dean’s hips with his thumbs as he repositioned himself lower between Dean’s legs, “That I can feel them just as fully, here with you. Thank you, Dean.”
Cas closed his mouth around Dean’s bulge, and Dean shouted as he felt the hot warmth of Cas seeping wet onto his cock through the damp fabric. Cas allowed him to thrust against his tongue and thread his covered fingers through Cas’s mussed hair until he came, tensing and jerking with the force of it. Cas continued massaging Dean’s bulge with his tongue even after he felt the last of the warmth spill out.
When Dean caught his breath, he pulled Cas away from his sensitive length and rolled him over so that he was on his back once more. Lying on top of Cas and threading their hands together, he rubbed his whole body against Cas again and again, letting Cas feel all of him as he loved to do so much, until Cas came with his face buried in Dean’s neck, muffling his cries of Dean’s name.
Dean let go of Cas’s hands and cradled him through his aftershocks, rubbing him still lightly with his hands and rocking into him with his body. Cas grasped Dean’s back as if he were afraid he might somehow get tossed away with the force of his orgasm, and Dean shushed his little moans and whimpers at the pure sensation of it all.
The shaking subsided, and Cas snaked his hands up to Dean’s zipper, pulling it down and freeing Dean’s head from the suit only to pull it down into a long, slow kiss. Dean smiled into Cas’s lips and held him as close as he could as Cas did the same. Before too long, however, both became aware of the wetness in their suits.
“Bet that’s gonna be a bitch to clean…” muttered Dean as he shucked the suits onto the floor. Sleep had almost overtaken Cas, and so Dean pulled the blankets over both of them, leaving the mess for another time.