[ oh holy FUCK— not that he minds dean's help, but he doesn't expect for his hand to be knocked away (and why does that make his body sing with arousal?) or for dean's to replace it— he makes a half-choked off sound that's caught between a yelp and a scream while his hips jerk into the welcome heat. dean is right, he can absolutely wring another out of him while that feeling is still simmering so close to the surface.
he presses one hand to the wall to brace himself, the other clamping down around dean's wrist. probably too hard, but he needs a ballast, because it's taking all of his control not to flap his wings and give dean a shiner— or a broken nose.
the consequence is that his power needs another outlet, and the bulbs above the bathroom mirror pop one by one with a sharp plnk! plnk! until they're bathed in darkness. ]
[ It’s kind of loud, that noise Cas makes; shrill, almost like it’s laced in enochian. The hand kinda hurts too, but he keeps moving, keeps jerking his cock, determined and groaning softly against his ear.
He isn’t expecting the bursting lights and Dean can’t help but laugh as they shatter and they’re plunged into darkness. ]
Yeah, sweetheart - [ breathless, horny; ] Just like that. Gimme another - You can do it.
[ dean's voice in his ear is what crests him— something in the distance makes a loud, unfamiliar sound, and with a gasp, his cock tightening in dean's grip, another splatter of cum hits the wall. there's a sound of something shattering on the other side of the wall, and several people shouting or making sounds of dismay—
as the entire building is plunged into darkness. ]
[ Dean works him through it, strokes him like he’s jerking himself off, wringing that second orgasm out of him.
He doesn’t expect the entire room to go dark, and as Cas comes down Dean can hear people swearing, commotion starting through the motel. He huffs a soft laugh, letting go when Cas starts to soften, letting the water rinse the jizz away that’s on his hand. ]
[ castiel's answer vaguely resembles the words "very much so", but with the words so slurred together that it comes out sounding more like enochian— castiel's body sagging heavily in dean's arms, his wings trying to spread out to counterbalance the weight. his right wing thuds hard against the shower wall and he grunts, arm wheeling to slap his palm hard against the same wall to keep himself from slipping and taking dean down with him. ]
[ He lets go of Cas’ cock in favor of both arms around him, holding him steady. ]
Yeah. Let’s get you in bed. [ He reaches to shut the water off, laughing at the mess they’ve made. The plastic curtain is in a pile on the floor, the bath mat soaked. They’re only lucky the towels themselves aren’t wet. By the grace of god they’re further away on the sink, outside the splash zone. ]
[ is his eloquent answer. he lets dean help him out of the tub, wobbling on one leg, and then two legs. even his wings seem to wobble, his mouth a precarious slash across his face as he focuses on balancing. once steadily on the ground, he moves for the towels, keeping one for himself and handing one off to dean.
when he turns and catches sight of him, he stares, like he can't quite believe that happened. even in the dark, he can see dean easily.
Dean chuckles, reaching to try and steady Cas as he himself climbs out, hand on the wall as he steps over the lip of the tub. He's definitely standing in a puddle, and the bathmat squishes beneath his feet, wet and cold.
Eugh. ]
Thanks. [ The towel is welcome, even if he can't see very well, and he rubs it over his head, ignoring his bobbing dick. ]
Help me with what? [ he doesn't have angel eyes Cas, he's assuming he's in the clear. ]
[ castiel stands with his wings dripping, the puddles beneath them growing and only adding to dean's discomfort. drying them is going to take more than two towels. ]
It's not required by law. Don't gotta do anything you don't want to.
[ He can barely see the outline; he's reminded of the shadows in the barn, the silhouette or something far greater than himself outlined on rotting wood.
I would hope it's not required by law. That would be unjust.
[ that's not to say he doesn't want to do it, however.
but first — he spreads his wings both to full length, something that's sadly only possible because of their truncation — and shakes them vigorously, splattering the entire room with water and wet feathers. little bits of black down tufts sticking to dean's skin, and the walls, and the clean towels.
a few fall down at his feet when he's done, and he folds them back in part-way. ]
But that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to "return the favor" as they say.
[ He sees it coming before it happens, but he still doesn't have time to shield himself at all, and once Cas is finished shaking himself off like a great pyranees, Dean's got feathers and down stuck to him, on his face, on his body, all over the towel he was holding. ]
Dude. [ they just showered!!! ]
Oh. Um - well. I guess if you want to, that's different.
he blinks at dean, and steps over to begin picking down and feathers from his body. carefully, so that he never quite touches dean's skin, which is a possibility only afforded to him by his "angel vision". ]
[ Cas is kinda driving him nuts right now; his hands are like, right there but not touching any part of him. It's insanity inducing. ]
Would want to? [ They're talking in circles but Dean's gotta be sure, you know? Consent, all that. He's a good boy, doesn't wanna fuck shit up with his best friend. ]
[ he's focused now on picking one last bit of down from dean's chest, before he kneels to remove a few stray feathers from his legs, folding his wings in close to his back as not to catch them on the counter.
when he's on his knees, he looks up at dean.
his dick is right at eye-level. ]
But I have to admit I don't really know what I'm doing.
[ But Cas down there on his knees is another story all together, and Dean is having some trouble remaining coherent. ]
Learning curve.
[ Or something, he's not sure. It's hard to even think when there's an angel down on his knees, wings visible, picking wet feathers from your leg hair.
[ he would have to get behind dean, which would be easier since dean has no wings, of course, but... it isn't really necessary, is it? he can touch just fine from this angle, and with that thought in mind, he doesn't hesitate to do so now. reaching up and closing the fingers of his right hand around dean's stiff, heated erection.
he doesn't expect how good it feels in his hand, and his face flushes down to the hollow of his throat, though dean can't see in the near-darkness. ]
[ castiel hums, and it's a surprisingly satisfied sound. he likes the feeling of dean's dick in his hand, the solid weight of it, the silky skin covering hard flesh. his own penis rises in sympathy, filling again like it did in the shower, a slow burn of pleasure tracing his spine— obviously, as anyone would expect, angels have no refractory period.
but rather than touch himself, he wraps his other hand around dean's shaft, too. dragging both hot palms along his length from base to tip, engulfing him. ]
[ Aren't they lucky Dean likes the feeling of Cas' hand around his dick. It's twitching in said hand, hot and flushed, a little bead of precum beading at the time. ]
Ah, yeah. Like that. [ His breathing is shuddery, tongue wetting his lips. ] Told you you weren't gonna have a problem.
this statement he punctuates by leaning in to lick the bead of precum from the soft, slick head. dean tastes clean, like shower water and musk, and castiel likes it enough to taste him again, and again. slow, torturous pumps of his hands as he drags his slick, hot tongue over and over the head. ]
[ It makes him laugh, choked as it is, because he's too distracted to be weirded out by Cas, of all people (angels?) saying 'penis'.
He's caught off guard when Cas takes matters into his own mouth though, and wraps his lips around the head of his dick. Dean nearly explodes right then and there like a preteen in a sock, a hand dropping to slide into Cas' hair and grip, a gasp in his throat. ]
[ castiel may be inexperienced, but it's immediately obvious that dean likes his mouth on him— the fingers in his hair attest to that, a sensation he finds, maybe surprisingly, that he likes. the tight pull, the sting of it. he whirls his tongue around the head of dean's dick, then drops one of his hands so he can swallow him down further. an inch, maybe two, the heavy weight of it dragging across castiel's tongue, making his gut twist in anticipation.
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he presses one hand to the wall to brace himself, the other clamping down around dean's wrist. probably too hard, but he needs a ballast, because it's taking all of his control not to flap his wings and give dean a shiner— or a broken nose.
the consequence is that his power needs another outlet, and the bulbs above the bathroom mirror pop one by one with a sharp plnk! plnk! until they're bathed in darkness. ]
Dean! Dean!
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He isn’t expecting the bursting lights and Dean can’t help but laugh as they shatter and they’re plunged into darkness. ]
Yeah, sweetheart - [ breathless, horny; ] Just like that. Gimme another - You can do it.
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as the entire building is plunged into darkness. ]
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He doesn’t expect the entire room to go dark, and as Cas comes down Dean can hear people swearing, commotion starting through the motel. He huffs a soft laugh, letting go when Cas starts to soften, letting the water rinse the jizz away that’s on his hand. ]
Better?
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—I think it's time to get out of the shower.
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[ He lets go of Cas’ cock in favor of both arms around him, holding him steady. ]
Yeah. Let’s get you in bed. [ He reaches to shut the water off, laughing at the mess they’ve made. The plastic curtain is in a pile on the floor, the bath mat soaked. They’re only lucky the towels themselves aren’t wet. By the grace of god they’re further away on the sink, outside the splash zone. ]
Cmon. One foot out, let’s get dry.
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[ is his eloquent answer. he lets dean help him out of the tub, wobbling on one leg, and then two legs. even his wings seem to wobble, his mouth a precarious slash across his face as he focuses on balancing. once steadily on the ground, he moves for the towels, keeping one for himself and handing one off to dean.
when he turns and catches sight of him, he stares, like he can't quite believe that happened. even in the dark, he can see dean easily.
he can also see dean's erection. ]
I should... help you with that.
[ ideas are forming. ]
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Dean chuckles, reaching to try and steady Cas as he himself climbs out, hand on the wall as he steps over the lip of the tub. He's definitely standing in a puddle, and the bathmat squishes beneath his feet, wet and cold.
Eugh. ]
Thanks. [ The towel is welcome, even if he can't see very well, and he rubs it over his head, ignoring his bobbing dick. ]
Help me with what? [ he doesn't have angel eyes Cas, he's assuming he's in the clear. ]
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Your erection.
[ duh.
too bad. but he does. ]
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Oh, uh. You don't have to do that.
[ It's weird, right? Like that's weird. ]
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[ he's slowly spreading his wings— 'shake like a dog' is about to win out. ]
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[ He can barely see the outline; he's reminded of the shadows in the barn, the silhouette or something far greater than himself outlined on rotting wood.
What he does not know is what Cas is planning. ]
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[ that's not to say he doesn't want to do it, however.
but first — he spreads his wings both to full length, something that's sadly only possible because of their truncation — and shakes them vigorously, splattering the entire room with water and wet feathers. little bits of black down tufts sticking to dean's skin, and the walls, and the clean towels.
a few fall down at his feet when he's done, and he folds them back in part-way. ]
But that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to "return the favor" as they say.
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[ He sees it coming before it happens, but he still doesn't have time to shield himself at all, and once Cas is finished shaking himself off like a great pyranees, Dean's got feathers and down stuck to him, on his face, on his body, all over the towel he was holding. ]
Dude. [ they just showered!!! ]
Oh. Um - well. I guess if you want to, that's different.
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[ what did he do.
oh.
he blinks at dean, and steps over to begin picking down and feathers from his body. carefully, so that he never quite touches dean's skin, which is a possibility only afforded to him by his "angel vision". ]
I would.
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Would want to? [ They're talking in circles but Dean's gotta be sure, you know? Consent, all that. He's a good boy, doesn't wanna fuck shit up with his best friend. ]
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Mmhmm.
[ he's focused now on picking one last bit of down from dean's chest, before he kneels to remove a few stray feathers from his legs, folding his wings in close to his back as not to catch them on the counter.
when he's on his knees, he looks up at dean.
his dick is right at eye-level. ]
But I have to admit I don't really know what I'm doing.
it got smaller and smaller
[ But Cas down there on his knees is another story all together, and Dean is having some trouble remaining coherent. ]
Learning curve.
[ Or something, he's not sure. It's hard to even think when there's an angel down on his knees, wings visible, picking wet feathers from your leg hair.
He's so hard he's gonna die. ]
cas' dick
[ he would have to get behind dean, which would be easier since dean has no wings, of course, but... it isn't really necessary, is it? he can touch just fine from this angle, and with that thought in mind, he doesn't hesitate to do so now. reaching up and closing the fingers of his right hand around dean's stiff, heated erection.
he doesn't expect how good it feels in his hand, and his face flushes down to the hollow of his throat, though dean can't see in the near-darkness. ]
Just tell me...
[ tell him if he does it wrong.
or right. ]
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I don't think you're gonna have any trouble.
[ A warm hand, Cas warm hand at that, feels friggin' amazing. ]
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but rather than touch himself, he wraps his other hand around dean's shaft, too. dragging both hot palms along his length from base to tip, engulfing him. ]
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Ah, yeah. Like that. [ His breathing is shuddery, tongue wetting his lips. ] Told you you weren't gonna have a problem.
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[ :)
this statement he punctuates by leaning in to lick the bead of precum from the soft, slick head. dean tastes clean, like shower water and musk, and castiel likes it enough to taste him again, and again. slow, torturous pumps of his hands as he drags his slick, hot tongue over and over the head. ]
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[ It makes him laugh, choked as it is, because he's too distracted to be weirded out by Cas, of all people (angels?) saying 'penis'.
He's caught off guard when Cas takes matters into his own mouth though, and wraps his lips around the head of his dick. Dean nearly explodes right then and there like a preteen in a sock, a hand dropping to slide into Cas' hair and grip, a gasp in his throat. ]
Shit, Cas.
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for what, he's not quite sure. ]
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