Castiel is, despite everything, still an Angel of the Lord. He is grace and power barely contained in a vessel, he has wings and Dean Winchester is the only thing that can reduce him back down to this body in a way he greatly misses.

He has no control of the noise that's punched out of him or the way his hips roll and eyes widen. It should be disgraceful but it is everything he wants.

"I want to fuck you, I want to last. Dean, pull them down," he gasps, raising onto his knees and pulling out the lube.