Chapter Text
Taking it slow has never really been Dean’s cup of tea. He likes to make a more personal connection before sex – but that was a long time ago and long before Cas. But it’s their wedding night and Dean is never, ever letting Cas drink wine again. It makes him affectionate, yeah, but after a few kisses that went from sweet to spicy and a good few minutes of dick on dick grinding, Cas came and stayed conscious long enough for Dean to come too – he should be thankful for that at least.
Dean would be disappointed if he wasn’t tired either. They’ve been up all day and it’s been a busy one – emotional and otherwise. So Dean is actually more than okay with wiping them down and tucking them both into bed after shaking the flower petals off the blanket. What he isn’t expecting is to be woken up four hours later by wandering hands and teeth dragging over his shoulder.
“If you’re gonna be the first one to conk out, you’re not allowed to wake me up.” He grumbles, turning his face into the pillow and trying really hard to ignore how quickly Cas’s stroking fingers are actually waking him up.
Cas somehow manages to get his mouth to that spot under Dean’s ear and he muffles Cas’s name into the pillow. “Wake up, Dean. I am not letting half a bottle of wine and a nap rob me of my wedding night.”
The groan is overly dramatic, but Dean can’t really continue to pretend that he’s not into it when Cas is working his hands over Dean’s dick in really obvious twists of his wrists. He pushes Cas’s hands away and rolls over to face him. “And what, exactly, do you want to do on your wedding night?”
A leg gets hooked over his hip and Cas pulls him in closer, rocking their hips together and yeah, Dean is totally awake now. He rolls more into Cas, finding his mouth and kissing away any answer Cas might give. The kisses turn hard fast and Cas doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop rolling his hips or getting his hands pretty much everywhere.
“Dean –” Cas full on moans his name and the sound of it does absolutely horrible things to Dean’s insides.
Somehow that gives him all the directions that he needs. Dean’s pretty sure that Charlie is the one who took care of the honeymoon suite. Sam would have known better than to cover the room in flowers. Which means Charlie would have probably stocked the bedside table with – halle-fucking-lujah, all hail the Queen. Condoms and lube, manna from heaven. He’s going to have to buy her a new set of dungeon dice or something for this.
He doesn’t even get the chance to ask how Cas wants to do it. Cas answers the question before it’s even fully formed in Dean’s head as he shuffles back against the pillows and spreads his legs. It’s a sight that has Dean’s mouth going dry and he has trouble remembering his own name let alone what he’s supposed to be doing.
Prepping Cas is a trial all on its own. Cas still doesn’t hold still through all of that. His hips keep moving, pushing down on Dean’s fingers and up into his mouth. Dean isn’t exactly blowing him, not completely. He’ll lick and suck at odd intervals, but he spends more time pressing kisses to his thighs or his hips and fully enjoying the frustrated little whines it gets him. Cas’s fingers are permanently fixed in Dean’s hair and they tug lightly whenever Dean gets a little close to where Cas clearly really wants his mouth.
But the really difficult part is all the sounds Cas makes. It’s not just the little whines. It’s gasps and whimpers and honest to god, tilt the head back, groans whenever Dean brushes a finger against his prostate. And every sound is molded around a mantra of Dean’s name in that sex rough voice (that does get deeper during the actual act). Dean fucking loves it. He can’t get enough of it and that may or may not be why he’s drawing out the prep a helluva lot longer than he actually needs to.
He gets away with it for another five minutes before Cas actually pushes his hands away and slaps a condom against his forehead. Dean would laugh, but there are much more interesting things to do right now. He’s about to deflower his blushing groom on their wedding night and he can’t even get the frikken condom on he’s so excited (nervous?). What the hell? Dean Winchester hasn’t been nervous about having sex since he lost his virginity.
It’s Cas and his gentle touches over Dean’s wrists and the back of his hands that calm him down. His hands stop shaking and the rubber rolls on easy as pie. Cas’s fingers trace up his arms slowly, catching him around the back of his neck to pull him down into a kiss. He thinks about asking Cas what position he wants to try – but Cas is already sliding further down the bed, legs hitched up and hooking around his waist and yeah, this is happening, this is actually happening.
Cas bites his lip and his nails dig into Dean’s shoulders at the first press. Dean doesn’t like that pinched look of pain and he tries to kiss it away, tries to distract Cas from that little burn. He knows what it feels like, even after prep, especially when it’s your first. It’ll feel good soon – Dean would stake his not unimpressive reputation on it.
The deep throated groan Cas makes at the first gentle push is pretty freaking awesome. Delicious for his ears. Cas hides his face against Dean’s neck while he rocks gently, moving in shallow thrusts until Cas starts pushing back, starts asking for more. When Dean gets a hand under his hips and lifts them to angle them just right, Cas’s whole body seizes with a sharp near-shout of his name. It’s exactly the reaction he was aiming for.
Cas alternates from locking his arms around Dean’s shoulders, to digging his fingers into his hair and panting his name into desperate kisses, to gripping the headboard when Dean really starts fucking him. He keeps arching his back, head pressing into the pillows and baring his throat and Dean’s discovered that he really likes Cas’s throat. He likes tasting his pulse under his tongue and feeling the vibrations of every noise that he makes.
It’s Cas who finally works his hand between them to stroke himself. Dean sits back on his heels, hands still holding Cas’s hips just right. There’s sweat on Cas’s temples and chest and Dean is really tempted to lick it away. But he’s got a job to do and it’s more than just devoting the sight Cas makes to his spank bank. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realizes that this marks maybe the fifth time today that he’s thought that Cas is beautiful like this.
But not just like this. Cas is as gorgeous as he was when he was standing across from Dean, eyes locked on him as that pompous windbag in the marriage office read off something he’s probably read a thousand times over. Or when he was holding Dean’s hand outside on the steps, murmuring something in Enochian and holding more in his eyes than Dean even knows how to begin handling. Or when Cas was laughing while trying to hold a piece of ice cream cake long enough to shove it into Dean’s mouth during the cliché feeding-the-wedding-cake-to-each-other thing. Or Cas smiling up at him from a bed full of flower petals, eyes warm and brimming with all that feeling.
He’s looking at him now with that same stare, lips parted, face flushed, and Dean can’t look away. Dean never could.
Cas comes unexpectedly, tensing up and tilting his head back. Dean drops forward to fit his mouth to his throat again, feeling the groan rumble under his lips. It’s the best and it tips Dean over the edge, white lightning in his veins and sparks along his spine. He really wants to collapse on Cas, just lay there and cover him and feel him trembling under him. But he falls to the side instead, sliding out and kind of hating it.
They don’t say anything while they bask in the afterglow. Cas curls around him like a weirdly attractive octopus, not even waiting for Dean to get the condom off. It’s a little difficult, but he does manage to get it off and toss it somewhere over the edge of the bed with the hopes that he doesn’t step on it when he finally drags himself out of bed in the morning.
Somehow Dean’s hand ends up in Cas’s hair, twisting and petting in a mockery of how Cas had worked his scalp during the bath. They’re both hot and sweaty and the blanket is probably not going to make a reappearance any time soon, so it’s a good thing that Dean put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door handle. He should probably get one of those for the bunker. It would save Sam any awkward moments.
And that makes him think, makes Dean wonder. How much of their life is going to change now that he and Cas are married? Are they going to be expected to find a place of their own? Or is Sam going to move out to give the newlyweds their space? He doesn’t want any of that to change. And why should it? Nothing changed when Cas officially moved all his clothes into the spare drawers in Dean’s room. It didn’t change when Dean moved his desk to Cas’s room and it became an unofficial guest room slash ‘study’. So nothing really needs to change, does it?
When Cas starts snoring softly against his shoulder, Dean comes to a decision. The only thing that’s changed is his certainty that Cas feels the same for him as he does for Cas. And even if he doesn’t have a ring on his finger yet, he’s still sporting a handprint on his soul – as he’s been reminded time and time again. Cas is his and Dean is Cas’s and neither of them are going anywhere. And that’s something that isn’t going to change.