Dean slammed Castiel against the bunker wall, mouth already on his, teeth scraping. "Been waiting all damn day for this," he muttered, yanking Cas's coat off and tossing it. Cas's blue eyes were dark, his grace humming under the skin like static. Dean shoved a hand down the front of Cas's pants and grabbed his cock, stroking rough and fast. "Hard already. Fuck, you get wet for me fast."
Cas grunted, hips jerking into the grip. "Dean—"
"Shut up and take it." Dean dropped to his knees, yanked the zipper down, and sucked the head of Cas's cock into his mouth without warning. He took it deep on the first pull, throat working, spit running down his chin. Cas's hands fisted in Dean's hair, pulling hard. Dean moaned around the shaft, the vibration making Cas's knees shake. He bobbed fast, gagging himself on purpose, eyes watering, but he didn't slow down. Saliva dripped onto the concrete floor.
When Cas started thrusting, Dean pulled off with a wet pop. "Not yet." He stood, spun Cas around, and bent him over the map table. Pants shoved down to mid-thigh, Dean spat on his fingers and shoved two straight into Cas's hole. Cas hissed but pushed back. "More." Dean added a third finger, scissoring rough, stretching him open quick and dirty.
"Gonna fuck you open so good you'll feel it tomorrow."
He freed his own cock, spit on it, and lined up. One hard thrust and he was buried balls-deep. Cas's wings flickered into view for a second, feathers shaking. Dean didn't wait. He pounded in, hips snapping, skin slapping loud in the empty room. "Take it, angel. Take every fucking inch." His hand reached around and jerked Cas's cock in time with the thrusts. Precum smeared over Dean's fist.
Cas groaned, low and broken. "Harder." Dean obliged, fucking him like he wanted to break the table. Sweat ran down his back. He leaned over, bit the back of Cas's neck, and slammed in deeper. The table creaked. Cas's hole clenched around him, tight and hot. Dean's balls slapped against Cas's ass with every thrust.
He pulled out suddenly, flipped Cas onto his back on the table, and shoved back in. Legs hooked over Dean's shoulders, Cas took it deep. Dean watched his cock disappear into that hole, watched Cas's face twist with pleasure. "Look at you. My dirty fucking angel." He spat on Cas's cock again and stroked it fast. Cas came first, shooting thick ropes across his own stomach and Dean's hand. The clench dragged Dean over the edge; he buried himself to the hilt and filled Cas up, pulse after pulse, cum leaking out around his cock.
Dean stayed inside, breathing hard, forehead against Cas's. After a minute he pulled out slow, watching the mess drip. Cas sat up, grabbed Dean by the shirt, and kissed him messy, tasting himself on Dean's tongue. "Again," Cas said, voice wrecked. Dean grinned, already getting hard again. "Yeah. Turn around."
They didn't leave the table for another hour.
