For Dean on his Birthday

[godless_son]

"Dean."

"Dean, wake up."

He has everything prepared and has had everything prepared for several hours and while he tried to lay down and sleep, he simply did not need it tonight. Plus, he is mildly nervous about how Dean will react to his plans. As far as he can tell, the Winchesters only celebrated birthdays when they were younger and they seemed to revolve largely around Sam. He is uncertain Dean has had many of his own celebrations and intends to make a change.

Dean deserves this and Castiel has decided he deserves the opportunity to give it to him. But now he is bored and would like to start the day. There are three pies still cooling in the kitchen, a fresh pot of coffee waiting and all the animals are at least for now, taken care of. He blinks, changing into a pair of pajamas (he's been told he's much more comfortable to be with in bed when not fully clothed) and shuffles underneath the covers. He misses the sensation of warmth and body heat but he remembers it well enough to find it comforting to hide underneath here with Dean all the same.

"It's your birthday, Dean."

Comments

[always_enduphere]

"With dumb hair and bad breath?" Dean asks, but his protests dissolve into another groan, hips hitching forward into Castiel's loose hold. Tangling his fingers in Castiel's hair, Dean pulls his head to the side, biting lazily along the tendon while he thrusts. After a while he hums, rising up on an elbow. "Where's the lube?"

[godless_son]

"The way you look in the mornings belongs to me," he pants, letting himself be moved as Dean sees fit, his grip faltering at the scrape of Dean's teeth. "So I like it best."

He concentrates for a moment, lube appearing next to Dean's hand. "I wish you could still mark me," he says, something he thinks often but rarely alludes to. It does neither of them any good to dwell on the things Castiel misses about this humanity. "But I like the way it feels, regardless."

[always_enduphere]

"Maybe someday," says Dean, uncapping the lube to slick his fingers, "When I don't associate it with you bleeding out, we'll bust out the angel blade. Spread."

[godless_son]

"I would like that," Castiel breathes, imagining himself carrying a mark from Dean for days, perhaps hidden just underneath his shirt.

He raises his hips, effortlessly lifting both his and Dean's weight just enough to shove a pillow underneath before spreading his legs. "I don't want much preparation. I want it to hurt as much as it can."

[always_enduphere]

"Bossy," Dean murmurs, "I thought it was my day." Still, he pushes two slick fingers into Castiel without warning, working them before Castiel has had time to so much as draw a breath. "I want to watch you ride me this time."

[godless_son]

Any counter argument to the bossy label quickly dies in favor of a low moan. He nods enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut as he fucks down onto Dean's fingers.

"I want that. I want you to watch me do that. Roll over, Dean."

[always_enduphere]

Dean does, sleepiness half-feigned now that he's felt the heat of Castiel's body clamped hard around his fingers, heart pumping faster for the phantom grip around his cock.

He's breathless, fingers tugged away in favor of grabbing Castiel's hips, positioning him over his own body. "Gonna give me a show?"

[godless_son]

"I don't know," Castiel murmurs, hesitating for a moment as he tries to decide what constitutes a 'show'.

"But I very much like the idea of you watching as you fuck me."

He lowers himself onto Dean's lap more quickly than he ever could as a human, fingers digging into Dean's chest, moaning loudly and without regard for their long suffering neighbor.