“Alright, Find the remainder when n2 + 4 is divided by seven…” Charlie reads from the practice exam. She continues reading the question but Dean can’t focus. He’s trying, he really is, but it might be too late for him to actually go through this. He checks his phone, it’s after 10 PM. Definitely too late. “You’re not listening, are you?” Charlie asks, hitting his knee with her notes. They’re on her bed, and he grabs one of her pillows to throw back at her.
“Just because you can be a nerd even when exhausted doesn’t mean I can. My brain shut off about an hour ago.”
“Hm,” she says, flipping through her notes. “I mean, you’ve studied… I guess we’ll do fine, you aced that practice test this afternoon. Might as well just...” She throws the notes into her bag on the floor. “Give up.” She flops down next to Dean and starts prodding his side. “You ready for it?”
He grabs his phone again and opens it mindlessly.
“Sorta, I guess… I just- I’m fine with not doing great. It’s just that I don’t want Castiel to think I don’t care, y’know.”
Charlie sighs dramatically. .
“Deaan,” she drags his name out. “I hate to break it to you but he’s not gonna give a shit about what you do on your exam. He’s just gonna grade it and move on.”
“I knoww,” he says, mimicking her dragged out voice. “I’m just… Ugh, Charlie, he’s so goddamn hot, like… It’s not fair, y’know?”
“Right. You’ve told me this about… Eight million times now?”
Charlie peeks at his phone too.
“Here,” she says and taps on the Tinder icon. “Distract yourself. Find a cute person on here, alright?”
Dean makes a very uninterested sound but he doesn’t close the app. He will let Charlie have what she wants, so he goes through a few profiles. He swipes all of them left.
“That’s not the way it works,” Charlie points out. “This isn’t gonna get you anyone. Look, she’s cute, right?”
“She has a Bible quote as her description and says she hates Star Wars and will never watch Lord of the Rings.”
Charlie falls back down on her bed and closes her eyes.
“See? I do think before I swipe. Don’t want to suddenly be on a date with a crazy guy being really into Argonians and wondering if I could cosplay when we-” He stops mid-sentence and stares at the screen.
“Please don’t tell me you just decided that’s actually pretty kinky because I will kick you the fuck out of my-”
“No, Charlie, look.”
Charlie opens her eyes. On Dean’s screen is a picture of very handsome man, young but with a certain air of authority about him in the way he stands in the picture, wearing a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, face towards the camera, looking… somewhat questioning, a little confused, though Dean cannot believe the guy doesn’t know how fucking good that looks.
It just so happens to be their math professor.
“Castiel, 27,” Dean reads, “Math professor. I like bees.” Dean laughs, shocked. “It’s him, holy shit he’s on Tinder. Charlie, that means he’s single or at least looking, and interested in guys, he’s, oh my god he’s available, I mean, if no one already swiped right, I mean, who would be able to resist that-”
Charlie grabs his phone and with a swift motion, swipes right.
“Wait!” He exclaims, grabbing his phone back in haste. But the damage has already been done. “No! How… Why… How dare you. That’s my account!”
“Damn right it is. Do you know how much I’ve had to listen to you ramble on about how handsome he is and how tight his ass and god knows what? That one time he raised his eyebrow at you and said Dean and I had to hear about it for days? This is payback. You talk about him non-stop, you flirt with him non-stop. Now you have a chance to really do something and you think I’m going to let you pass on that? No way you’re swiping left on him.”
Dean hides his face in his hands.
“Charlie, what have you done.” She literally just swiped right on their professor. The professor Dean has a test for tomorrow. Castiel. She literally just swiped right on Professor Novak, Castiel, the guy who Dean can’t stop talking about and also knows is way out of his league. Because, well, he’s their fucking professor. He buries his face into a pillow and groans.
“Here’s the thing,” Charlie says, her voice muffled through Dean’s pillow. “If he isn’t interested in dating you for any reason, he’ll never know. Maybe he hasn’t been on Tinder in months, who knows? If he isn’t into you… he won’t ever know.”
“Right.” Dean lifts his head up and looks at her. “I… ugh, I’m sorry.” He rolls around and sits up again. “This is just ridiculous and I might never forgive you.”
“That’s fine,” she grins, wrapping an arm around him. “For the record, you’re really cute when you talk about him, even if it’s a little annoying.”
“Yeah, fine. You’ve flattered me enough, you can stay my friend.”
They go to sleep a little too late for their own good perhaps, but hey, they’re having a sleepover, and they might be 22, but sleepovers are meant for staying up too late.
Dean is nervous the next morning, more nervous than he’d normally be for a test. It’s not because of the Tinder thing, not really. Dean was able to tell himself several times that Castiel wouldn’t ever find out because he wouldn’t swipe right on Dean, meaning his ‘accident’ would just remain undiscovered forever. It was just that he really didn’t want Castiel to think bad of him, no matter what Charlie said. Perhaps Castiel wouldn’t care that much, but still…
Unfortunately for him, it becomes clear pretty soon that he isn’t going to get an A+ for this exam. It’s fine, but some questions are really difficult and he spends ages trying, scribbling on his paper, sighing and rubbing his neck, hoping for a wonder.
Castiel isn’t helping, either. He’s sitting in front of the class, the jacket of his suit is off and he’s just sitting in his plain white shirt with rolled-up sleeves (which reminds Dean awfully of his Tinder profile), and a dark blue tie that makes Dean feel all sorts of ways. It’s very distracting and really doesn’t help to solve his math problems. But he tries. He works until he’s exhausted and his hand hurts and his brain refuses. Most, including Charlie, have already left. Dean gathers his supplies and walks over to Castiel. Castiel looks at him as he approaches, and that stare. It makes Dean’s legs weak. He doesn’t want to show it. Instead, he grins and holds the paper out to him.
“Thank you,” Castiel says softly as to not to disturb the last few people, raising his eyebrow just enough to be noticeable and he smiles very lightly. Dean licks his lips, bites his bottom lip, holding the stare. Then he walks over to his bag in the front of the classroom and grabs it. As he leaves, he looks at Castiel once more—he is organizing the tests, and doesn’t look at Dean.
Dean works that evening. He talked with Charlie briefly about their tests. Charlie is hoping for an A but isn’t really sure. Dean has decided that an A just wasn’t gonna happen for him. He doesn’t mind, not anymore. If he fucks up and Castiel dislikes him for it… so be it. He’s only going to go through a resit if he fails the test, and he is pretty sure that that’s not the case either.
Work is distracting and refreshing. All his time in the past few days has gone into studying for this test. He loves the feeling of freedom he has now, especially as the bar isn’t that busy and he can joke around with Jo. She’s just sixteen but has always been a close friend of his. Her mom is basically Dean’s mom, too, so it makes sense that they’re like brother and sister. They keep an eye out for any of the few customers to make sure they don’t need them, but meanwhile they just joke around and tease each other. In the middle of trying to convince Jo that he would definitely win in a fight with Sam, he gets a notification.
“Ooooh,” Jo says with a big smile. “I know that sound.”
“What?” Dean frowns at her.
“That’s Tinder, Dean. Now show me, as it’s the rules of our friendship that you show me your Tinder matches.”
“I’ve never heard of these rules, that doesn’t even make s-”
“I could tell my mom that you’re on your phone on the job if you don’t show me,” she says, hands on her hips. She grins at him. “C’mon, Dean, I just wanna know if they’re cute.”
“Alright, alright,” he sighs as he grabs his phone. Congratulations! You have a new match! The notification reads. He slides it open and waits for the page to load as Jo peaks over his shoulder, hand pressing on him.
‘It’s a Match!’ the fancy font reads, and under it are two profile pictures. One of Dean, and one of his Match. Dean’s heart seems to stop. You and Castiel have liked each other.
“Fuck, what?” He says a bit too loud. He locks his phone and pushes it back in his pocket.
“What, no, Dean! I didn’t get to see-”
“No, it’s not, I can’t… that’s not someone I should… I know him.”
“Yeah, and?” Jo asks, “that’s good, right?”
“Jo, it’s… it’s my professor.” He pulls her close and explains what happened. When he tells her about Charlie, she bursts into laughter which she tries to muffle behind her mouth. “Yeah, it’s like really funny and all, but he’s fucking liked me back? What the hell, Jo?”
“Well, the semester’s over right?” She says, leaning on the bar with a big smile. “Means he’s not your prof anymore. I’d say hook up.” She winks.
“You are way too comfortable talking about this for your age.” Dean points out.
“I am sixteen and what I do with my life is none of your concern.”
“I’ll tell your mother-”
“You won’t tell my mother shit or you’ll regret it. Now go flirt with that guy, I still want a picture.”
She turns to meet a customer and Dean sighs, retreating. In the small hall between the kitchen and the bar he pulls out his phone again. His heart is beating rapidly and his fingers are clammy. His fingerprint doesn’t even get recognized and he types in his password with shaking hands. The message is still there. They matched. He bites his lip and presses the message button.
There’s already a message there.
CASTIEL (9:23 PM) | I’ll take this slightly awkward opportunity to tell you your grade: B.
Dean stares at the message for a while. He doesn’t know if he should laugh or scream or both. How does he reply to that? His fingers rest on the screen for a moment. Then he comes up with the most eloquent yet expressive reaction he can muster up right now.
DEAN (9:25 PM) | Well shit.
This is a situation he never thought he’d be in, but here he is. Matched with the professor he was crazy about. Great. He signals to Jo that he’s taking his break and quickly disappears into the kitchen. He can still see the bar and keep an eye on Jo — part of him doesn’t like her being alone in there, but he does have some privacy, so he can call Charlie.
“Hey,” she says, “aren’t you working?”
“On my break right now. Listen, guess who the fuck I just matched with.”
“Oh my god,” Charlie gasps audibly. “Are you serious? You not kidding me? Did you… Did you actually match with… Castiel?”
“Yeah, Charlie I… I have no idea what to do. He literally just… Sent me that I had a B for the exam. I just replied ‘Well shit’. I’m a mess, man.” He grabs a stool and sits down on it, burying his face in his free hand.
“First of all, congratulations on passing,” she says and he can’t help but laugh. “I… honestly don’t know what you should do, Dean. What do you want? Do you think he’s like, serious about this?”
“Dunno,” Dean sighs. “We can just talk and figure it out and see how it goes I guess.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you could.”
She wishes him good luck and he hangs up, feeling lost. Did he want this to happen? He’d been daydreaming about all these things he wanted to do with Castiel, or… what he wanted Castiel to do with him, and now he’s closer to that than he’s ever been and he feels like backing off, deleting the app, changing his name and his school and never talking to anyone he knows ever again. A few minutes pass with Dean sitting on the stool, looking at Jo, who’s talking to an elderly couple, seemingly explaining them how to get to the nearest hotel. What is he getting himself into? Maybe he should just stay in his comfortable bubble and not get into this mess. He looks at the elderly couple as the man wraps his arm around his wife’s waist and smiles at her lovingly before they thank Jo and head out. Dean rubs his face and groans, then gets up to get back to work.
He doesn’t check his phone until he’s back in his apartment. There, he takes a shower, gets into a shirt that’s way too big for him and falls onto his bed, and finally gets out his phone. Castiel replied a while ago. Dean opens the message, still not sure what to do.
CASTIEL (10:42 PM) | B is not bad, Dean. You passed, and the test was quite complicated.
Dean wishes Charlie was there so she could rip his phone out of his hands again and type a reply back. She was way better at taking care of his relationships.
DEAN (11:15 PM) | I was more talking about the whole we’re-on-tinder-and-we-matched thing.
His heart is racing again. What is he doing? What are they doing? He scrolls through his emails for a while, but Castiel’s reply is faster than he expected.
CASTIEL (11:18 PM) | Right. That makes sense.
CASTIEL (11:18 PM) | Since you passed, I’m not officially your professor anymore. Maybe that’s a solace?
Dean can’t help but smile.
DEAN (11:19 PM) | I guess
DEAN (11:19 PM) | So does that mean you’re okay with talking?
He anxiously watches as the three small dots appear, disappear, and appear again.
CASTIEL (11:20 PM) | Yes.
Dean doesn’t know what to say, how to… start this. What do you say to your really hot math professor you’re now talking to on a dating website of all places? But Dean doesn’t have to think of something.
CASTIEL (11:21 PM) | Is your “anthem” really I Want It That Way by the Backstreet Boys?
DEAN (11:22 PM) | Listen, if someone isn’t immediately turned off by that, they’re a catch. That song’s a banger and you know it. All for cliches.
He goes to Castiel’s page and scrolls to find what Castiel’s “anthem” is. He’s always found the feature a bit weird and cringey, but he’s curious now. There is none, however.
CASTIEL (11:22 PM) | A smart method, and it shows you’re a man of class. Two birds with one stone.
DEAN (11:24 PM) | Hahaha, yeah that song screams class doesn’t it? How about your "anthem"? Saw you don’t have any.
CASTIEL (11:25 PM) | To be honest, I’m not really sure what I’m doing here. My brother got me on here to make me ‘less pathetic’, his words. Wasn’t too invested in setting up my profile.
DEAN (11:26 PM) | That’s fair. I didn’t really take you for a very invested Tinder guy.
CASTIEL (11:28 PM) | What would a ‘Tinder guy’ be classified as?
DEAN (11:29 PM) | Bit creepy, tries to start the conversation with really creepy pick-up lines, your typical Nice Guy who somehow manages to always bring the conversation to be about his own dick.
CASTIEL (11:30 PM) | Sounds disgusting. I’m glad I don’t leave that… impression. For the record, you don’t either.
DEAN (11:32 PM) | What impression do I have instead, would you say?
CASTIEL (11:35 PM) | Funny, kind, interesting, sweet, honest, humble. Handsome.
Dean reads those words with a blush rising to his cheeks. Does Castiel really think about him that way? Had he been… thinking about this? About him? Before they matched? Dean hesitates, not sure what to reply to that.
CASTIEL (11:36 PM) | What about me?
Well, at least he doesn’t have to specifically react to the string of compliments.
DEAN (11:37 PM) | I’ll be honest and say I think you’d be very different in person than as a teacher. You seem to care about your students, which is not a given in college. Patient, caring, engaging, intriguing. Really fucking hot.
CASTIEL (11:39 PM) | Why, thank you. Don’t think I would describe myself as any of those, especially not ‘hot’, but I appreciate it.
Dean doesn’t know what he should say. He knows what he wants to say. Let’s meet up. I want to get to know you better. I want to know you, I want you to pin me to a wall and kiss me senseless, I want your hands all over me. But he can’t. He’s still not sure… Maybe Castiel just doesn’t realize how he's been driving Dean insane for so long. Then again… They’re on Tinder. His brother might’ve set him up on it, but he’s the one talking to Dean right now. He called him handsome.
DEAN (11:42 PM) | You serious, dude? You’re fucking stunning. Distractingly good-looking. Curve of your ass being more interesting than the one in the math problem kind of hot.
He instantly regrets sending it. He’s gone too far now, definitely. It doesn’t really help that Castiel isn’t replying at all. No dots, no messages. Minutes pass and Dean feels all his confidence draining.
DEAN (11:56 PM) | I’m sorry, that was too much. Shit, sorry.
He feels like burying is head in the pillow like he did at Charlie’s — he can simply ignore the problem, drown in his own regret.
His phone beeps. He tries to ignore it, not think about it at all. But he can’t stop thinking about it. His only distraction would be his phone, which is where the message is on. No. He got himself into this mess, he can’t blame Charlie for the messages he sent, and he’s going to have to get himself out of the mess, too.
CASTIEL (12:07 AM) | It’s okay, Dean, you didn’t go too far. I’m just bad at texting and don’t know how to handle this right now, or how to reply.
CASTIEL (12:09 AM) | Would you be okay with meeting me somewhere tomorrow? To talk. I don’t think we should do this over text. If you’re not comfortable with that, we don’t have to. Don’t feel pressured.
Dean hesitates. It’s just to talk, and he wants to talk with Castiel about this. It might be nerve-racking and awkward, but he can’t just ignore this.
DEAN (12:11 AM) | I know it’s very late but could you maybe come over now? To talk.
CASTIEL (12:14 AM) | If you want?
DEAN (12:14 AM) | Yes, please.
He sends Castiel his address and gets up. He needs to wear something, at least, other than an oversized shirt. He finds a pair of sweatpants which is comfortable enough and puts on another shirt. Then, he paces around the apartment, nervous, somewhat… excited, too. They’re just gonna talk, that’s it.
As soon as Cas is inside his apartment, Dean finds himself in his arms. Castiel’s jacket is not even fully off, but Dean’s hands have found their way under it, pressing on his chest. Castiel caught Dean the moment he pulled close and is holding him now, mouth dragging along his neck. Shit, Castiel can kiss. He’s confident and determined, not holding back as Dean basically begs for his tongue. There’s a hand pulling on his shirt, hauling him closer, there’s a strong arm around his waist, his legs pressed tight against Dean’s. It’s easy to get lost, to drown in this. Cas’ hand drags up from his shirt to Dean’s cheek, discovering the roughness of his unshaved jaw. God, those hands. His fingers tangle in Dean’s hair and grip a fistful as he kisses his jaw, his neck, his lips.
They need air, and Dean pulls away shaking a little. He comes down from the initial shock and his mind is able to think for a second, just long enough for the anxiety to hit.
“Cas, you shouldn’t do this,” he breathes, steadying himself by gripping onto Cas’ shoulders. “This is gonna get you in trouble, it’s not okay, it’s wrong to-”
“Do you want this?” Cas asks. He looks at Dean with care in his eyes, scanning Dean’s face. “Don’t lie. Be honest.”
“I- I do,” Dean says, and he knows it’s the truth. He’s had a taste of what’s to come, and now he wants more, everything. “But you shouldn’t-you’re a professor, Cas,” his voice breaks a little, his breath unsteady, “-and you shouldn’t do this, it’s gonna get you in so much trouble-”
“Dean, relax.” Castiel reaches for his hair and gently runs a hand through it. “I’ll be fine. You’re officially not my student anymore, so there’s nothing that can get me in trouble. The only thing that matters is whether you’re sure about this.”
“I am, I just… What if-”
“It’s just sex, not a marriage proposal.”
Dean laughs, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. He’s still holding onto Cas and it feels good. Safe. “Right,” he says. “Yeah, I know.” He looks at Castiel’s lips. “Kiss me again.”
Cas obeys, biting on Dean’s bottom lip to draw small sounds from deep down his throat. He soon takes over setting the pace, shrugging off his coat. He’s wearing sweatpants and a grey shirt—Dean thought that suits would be the hottest thing Castiel could ever wear, but apparently he was wrong. This was at least just as hot. He smells like warm spices and honey, a sweet scent Dean inhales again and again as Castiel’s lips explore his neck.
“Question,” Castiel says and god that voice right under his ear makes Dean whimper.
“Thought we weren’t in class anymore,” Dean teases, but his voice drips with desperation, still a little unsteady. Castiel’s chuckle is warm and deep.
“Do you want me to take over?” He asks, meeting Dean’s eyes. “You know… let me guide you?”
“Yes.” Dean’s answer is instant. He can’t imagine this going any other way and doesn’t want it to go any other way. “Please.”
“I need a safeword.” Castiel continues. He seems so calm, but his eyes are wild. “I won’t do anything absurd but I need to be sure that whatever I do, you’re okay. Even if I’m just holding your hand and you want me to stop, I want you to be able to stop me.”
“Nickelback.” Dean says. “It’ll be Nickelback.”
“You’re incredible, Dean.” He is close again, his nose almost pressed against Dean’s cheek. “Promise you’ll use it.”
They somehow make it to the couch. Cas quickly loses his shirt and takes off Dean’s as well, holding him close. Dean is on Cas’ lap, straddling him, but Cas is guiding him in every way. He kisses along Dean’s throat, focuses on his collarbone. He starts off gently, but as Dean presses his thighs against Castiel’s crotch and grinds against him, Cas quickly loses that patience.
His teeth drag along the wet skin he just kissed, sucking hickeys in places Dean knows will be on display. He closes his eyes and leans into Cas’ arms.
“You like that?” Cas asks, his voice rough and somewhat unsteady.
“Yeah- don’t stop.”
Cas drags a finger over Dean’s nipple without warning. The cold fingers make Dean shiver but he doesn’t want Cas to stop. Cas knows exactly what he wants. He kisses Dean’s neck and chest until he’s satisfied and Dean is rock hard in his sweatpants.
“Bedroom.” He says and picks Dean up as if he doesn’t weigh a thing. Only a moment later Dean falls back on his own bed, looking up to Cas who doesn’t seem to want to take it slow anymore. He’s on Dean in seconds, pressing him deep into the soft sheets. Dean is taken aback by the sensation of Cas’ cock pressing against his thigh, through both their pants but already enough to make him shudder. Cas shifts his weight and brings their mouths together again. The friction of Cas against his leg is torture, and Dean wraps his arms around his back, wanting him closer.
“Desperate, aren’t you?”
Dean makes a sound close to annoyed, but doesn’t answer. He just wants Cas right now, on him, everywhere until he can’t think anymore.
“You should answer me,” Cas says, cupping Dean’s face in his hand.
“You shouldn’t ask stupid questions,” Dean says in return, and he laughs breathlessly as he sees Cas’ eyebrow raise. He’d do anything for him to do that, to look at him that way.
“I see,” Cas squints at him. “So no questions?” Cas laves his neck with biting kisses, then without warning presses his hand down on Dean’s bulge, palming him roughly through his pants. Dean whimpers, arms back around Cas’ neck, trying to pull him closer, shivering with arousal.
“Babe… Please-” He gets cut off with a finger on his lips.
“No demands for you until I say so.”
Cas continues to palm Dean through his pants until he decides it’s been enough, then pulls them down. A soft tug at his hips makes Dean lift them up, against Cas, and he uses the movement to rub against him in an attempt to tease him back. Cas groans and his hands falter for a moment.
“Fuck, Dean, you like that huh?”
Dean just grins at him, chest heaving.
“Don’t need words to let you know what I want.”
“We’ll see about that,” Cas says and god that smirk is dangerous. Dean’s pants fall on the side of the bed and Cas looks at his naked body for a while, taking in every detail. He leaves Dean untouched way too long, but Dean doesn’t say anything. Just as he glides his own hands over his chest, Cas is back all over him and pulls his hands away.
“No.” He pins Dean’s hands to the mattress. “They’re there or on me. Nowhere else.” Then, finally, he takes Dean in his hand and gives him a firm stroke.
“Fuck-” Dean gasps, unable to keep it back. Castiel keeps stroking him, triumphantly, a finger brushing teasingly over the tip of his cock.
“You said what?” He asks, his hand speeding up. “Tell me, love.” Cas’ length is pressed in between Dean’s thighs, still through his sweatpants, but neither of them take the time to take them off. Dean’s already falling apart like this.
Cas seems pleased with that, and presses down on Dean a bit faster, harder. He strokes Dean in the same rhythm, quickly pushing Dean to gasp for air in quick, needy gasps, whimpering for more. At this point, Dean doesn’t bother trying to keep up with the teasing. He just wants Cas to keep doing that, to keep grinding up against him, to just not stop…
Cas stops, but continues to drag kisses over Dean’s chest.
“No,” Dean whines. “Don’t stop-”
“You sure?” Cas asks softly, “So many things I want to do with you… Won’t be able to hold back much longer…” Having come down slightly from the high, Dean realizes how heavy Cas is breathing, and how his hands are shaking. He’d been so close and Dean had barely noticed-lost in Cas’ touch, his hands, his kisses. “But- we can do it like this, if you want,” his voice is deep and rough but still so surprisingly calm and the look he’s giving Dean is delicate, sweet. “We don’t have to go any further, for now.”
Dean looks at Cas, feels the throbbing of his own cock, the sweat on Cas’ back under his fingers. There’s so many things he wants to explore with him, do with him, but for now.
“Want you like this,” he manages, taking a shaky breath. “Don’t think I can handle much more right now.”
“Alright then, baby.” Dean captures Cas’ lips for another kiss. The moment Cas is back at stroking Dean, Dean loses the ability to focus on kissing. His head falls back into the pillow, dragging lines over Cas’ back with ragged moans.
“Fuck, Dean, you’re so good for me,” Cas breathes, “can’t believe you’re so perfect, so gorgeous…”
Dean wants to feel him right now, now, and he drops one hand to the hem of Cas’ pants. He’s afraid Cas will slap his hand away but he lets it happen and Dean pushes the hem down just enough to be able to wrap his hand around Cas’ cock, hard and heavy in Dean’s hand and oh-
“Like that, don’t you dare stop, Dean, De-” he cuts off his own words with a groan and a hard kiss on Dean’s jaw, brutally continuing to jerk Dean. His rhythm falters just a moment, then he’s back and faster.
“Cas-” Dean warns, heat rushing through his stomach, “Don’t stop, I’m, god-damn please…” His pleas are like a prayer, begging Cas, and Cas listens, mercifully, though growling into Dean’s neck.
“Come for me, Dean, so beautiful, don’t hold back…”
Every muscle in Dean’s body seems to tense, everything feels hot and right and Cas doesn’t stop stroking him, and is throbbing in Dean’s hand himself.
The orgasm hits him hard, despite him feeling it coming. It washes over him and he falls back into the bed, sobbing out words he doesn’t register. Cas is everywhere, stroking him through, pressing deep against him, and Dean vaguely registers Cas coming in his hand, his thrusts erratic and shaky, growling Dean’s name like it’ll save his life.
It takes Dean a while to return. His breathing is still weak, and so is his body. He can’t think very clear and barely registers his surroundings. All he knows is that he feels sore and exhausted. He feels Cas shift away but his eyes are closed and he’s too tired to respond. A moment later, Cas is back, and he can feel him clean him up. Then, Cas crashes besides him, his warm, spicy scent suddenly washing over Dean again.
“Tell me if you’re alright,” Cas says gently. “Just nod if you’re okay.”
Dean nods, and he feels Cas plant a kiss, very softly, on his cheek.
“You did so good, Dean, so good for me.”
Dean doesn’t really have the energy to speak. He can’t remember if he’s ever been this worn out after something that should just be a handjob, but then again- he’s wanted this for so long, wanted Cas for so long, and all those emotions had just worn him out. He can feel Cas lying beside him, and after a few minutes Dean suddenly needs his warmth. He shivers and shifts closer, and Cas understands—he wraps an arm around Dean, ever so gently, and gets him under the blanket.
“Y’know…” Dean can’t help but smile.
“Good talk,” Dean mutters against Cas’ neck.
Cas chuckles his soft, warm laugh, and presses a kiss in Dean’s hair.
“We can talk, for real. Tomorrow. If you want. Over coffee, or something.”
“Hm,” Dean hums, “-sounds good.”
“Alright. For now, just… rest.”
Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. He vaguely hears Cas say something about showering in the morning, but he’s already half-asleep.
He hasn’t slept so well in ages.