Prompt: Destiel, wall
Dean had always prided himself in being able to keep a level head in any situation. When it came to hunting, that resulted in him being able to not only track the evil motherfucker down and kill it, but also to joke about it, stay positive (or pretend to), showing off and badmouthing the thing - or his brother, if he was in such a mood - and when it came to sex, it resulted in him running his mouth in every which direction it felt like going, which usually was a pretty dirty one.
It made no exception when it was Castiel, angel of the lord, that he was grounding into from behind, pressing him chest-flat against the wall of the motel room, pushing his cock into Cas’ ass at a pace that spoke more of desperation than determination. And so what if he was a bit desperate; he hadn’t seen the angel in weeks, after all, what with the stupid heavenly civil war going on, and Sam being expected back from his food-run any second now. Dean’s mouth, however, made no sign of speeding up, voice instead lowering to a dark murmur against Cas still clothed back.
“Fuck, yes. Cas, shit, feel so good, doesn’t it? Have you been thinking about this, about me, about my cock in your ass, thinking about coming down here and doing this with me, to me? Have been fucking longing for my cock, haven’t you, Cas, fucking hate it that you’re away so much, fuckin’ hate it…”
Dean bit back the rest of whatever he had been about to say, because hell no, he wasn’t gonna let his mouth go and tell on him, tell Castiel things he didn’t need to know, not now, not ever, and he groaned into Cas neck, gripping the angel’s hips tighter and fucking into him faster, not really expecting an answer.
Which was why he almost lost his footing from the surprise of hearing Castiel gasp around his moans, fighting against his own stuttering breath to find his words.
“Yes, Dean, yes, wanted it, wanted you, ah, Dean.”
Dean snapped his head up to try and catch a glimpse of Castiel’s face, but he was pressing his forehead against the wall, shadows obscuring his expression.
Cas was usually pretty quiet when they had sex, or at least he didn’t talk, beside the occasional uttering of Dean’s name; he’d never gotten the hang of dirty talk. He normally didn’t even remember to warn Dean before he came, a fact the hunter didn’t appreciate very much when it earned him a mouthful of come when he wasn’t ready for it.
But today, fuck, today his mouth was just running on automatic, it would seem, as if the past few weeks had opened a dam in him through which every little thing the angel was thinking, feeling, was spilling straight through Dean’s ears into his gut, forcing him to jam his eyes shut as it awoke a responding flood inside him.
“Shit, Cas, me too, wanted you, needed you here, dammit I needed you so bad,” and he’s coming, he’s fucking coming, his whole body tensing up and legs almost giving out as he presses Cas hard against the wall, covering him, filling him, being filled with a storm of emotions he really thought he had better control over, being filled with Cas, in return.
And Cas is gasping against him, the dam having emptied until the only thing left in him was a string of wrung-out sounding gasps of “Dean, Dean, Dean,” until he shivered and froze as well, pinned between Dean and the wall, hands reaching down to cover Dean’s on his hips, coming untouched.
It took them nearly ten minutes to gather themselves, pull their clothes back into place, and Dean still couldn’t look Castiel in the eye as he said “You better win this fucking war,” to which Cas answered “I intend to”. And nothing else needed saying.