Castiel bites off a moan as he manages to reach his prostate, eyes hooded as he stares down at Dean.

"I miss that outfit, sometimes," he says, the exact brand and color tie manifesting in his hands with a thought. He quickly loops it around Dean's wrists, knotting them to the headboard just a little too tight, a little too painful. They will hurt, leave marks just as he thinks Dean wants it.

He rises up, slicking Dean up quickly, groaning as he starts to lower himself.