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Castiel lies on his side, facing away from Dean and trying to ignore the warmth of the body at his back. It's difficult to sleep this way, and has been for the last week. He can’t deny anymore that his feelings for his husband have grown deeper over the last month. He also can’t say there was ever a moment when he wasn’t incredibly physically attracted to him.
Closing his eyes, Castiel tries to breathe deeply—in through his nose and out through his mouth—and will his body to sleep. He changes his position, lying on his back with one arm thrown up over his head and the sheet pushed down to his hips, exposing the bare skin of his chest, but he’s careful not to touch Dean. Castiel is nearing unconsciousness when he feels Dean shifting beside him, the sheets rustling against his skin. He dismisses the movement as his husband trying to find a more comfortable position to sleep in until he hears a stifled whimper.
Castiel stops breathing, holding the air in his lungs silently and realizing that he can still detect even the slightest motion on Dean’s side of the bed. He turns his head a little and opens his eyes just enough that he can see Dean, but Dean can’t tell Castiel’s eyes aren’t closed. Through his eyelashes, Castiel watches the silhouette of Dean running his fingers almost delicately down his own chest and stomach. His hand disappears beneath the sheet covering him from the hips down, and Castiel instinctively knows Dean is teasing himself—lightly caressing his cock, coaxing it to hardness.
He should close his eyes, stop watching this private moment of Dean’s, but Castiel is captivated by the way Dean’s breath hitches in his throat and he can’t stop. He’s imagining his own hand wrapped around the thickness of Dean’s cock, stroking him teasingly until he’s so hard he begs for the wet heat of Castiel’s mouth.
Fuck .
His own cock is already aching and Castiel longs to touch himself, but he knows if he moves Dean will know he’s awake and stop. Another breathy moan escapes Dean’s lips and Castiel has to bite back one of his own. He can see a little more clearly now, his eyes having adjusted to the darkness of the room, and he focuses on the profile of Dean’s face.
Even in the near blackness of the room, Dean is breathtaking. His chin is tilted up, exposing the long curve of his throat. Castiel can clearly see the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows harshly. There’s another barely audible moan from his slightly parted lips and Castiel wants to swallow it, consume every little sound Dean makes. He lets his eyes open the rest of the way when he realizes that Dean’s are closed tightly; he’s not sure he cares if Dean sees him watching at this point.
Castiel’s gaze travels down the curve of Dean’s throat again, across the dip between his clavicles, and rests on the pebbled nipple between Dean’s fingers. He watches as Dean tweaks and pulls at it gently, biting his lip to resist the urge to lean over and suck it into his mouth. His eyes keep moving, over Dean’s flat stomach to his sharp hip bones. The sheet is pushed down to Dean’s thighs, now, and the waistband of his boxers is tucked just under his balls, exposing his cock—long, straight, and thick—and Castiel fists his hands in the sheets so he doesn’t reach out to touch it, his own cock throbbing in response.
Dean is jerking himself slowly, hand wrapped firmly around the shaft, and running his thumb over the head every few strokes. Castiel knows he’s drawing it out, savoring the build-up , even as his breathing becomes less and less steady. The hand that was toying with Dean’s nipple is now traveling downward to fondle his balls as he ramps the pace of his strokes up, groaning a little louder than before. “Fuck… Cas…” Dean breathes.
Castiel is startled by hearing the nickname Dean had given him in this desperate tone. The idea that Dean is fantasizing about him spurs Castiel into action. “Dean,” he says, softly. His voice is deep and gravelly, heavy with the lust that courses through his body.
His husband’s eyes flutter open in surprise, and he stops pulling at his cock but doesn’t make any move to cover up. “Cas…” Dean says, voice rough. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Don’t stop,” Castiel answers, ignoring the comment. “Touch yourself for me, Dean.” Castiel rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his hand now that Dean knows he’s watching.
Dean doesn’t hesitate, staring into Castiel’s eyes as he fists his cock again. It’s beautiful, Castiel thinks, the way Dean’s muscles twitch as he works himself. Castiel wants to touch him but more than that his cock is leaking precum and the ache is becoming painful. So, he takes it firmly in his hand, matching Dean’s rhythm with a low rumble of a groan at the relief of friction.
“Tell me,” Castiel demands, keeping his eyes locked on Dean’s green ones. “What were you thinking about when you said my name?”
Dean hesitates and even in the dark, Castiel can see the blush spread across his cheeks. His voice is low and soft, and it breaks just a little when he speaks. “Your hands,” he admits, his forearm flexing as his fingers tightened ever so slightly around his length. “I was pretending it was your hand on my dick.”
“Next time,” Castiel promises as he leans over to press his lips against the tender hollow where Dean’s throat meets his chest. The flesh there is hot and soft, and when Castiel runs his tongue up to Dean’s neck, he can taste the salty-sweetness of his sweat. Though, it isn’t as sweet as the broken sound Dean makes when Castiel sucks a mark onto his skin.
The pressure in his groin is building fast and Castiel knows he won’t last very long because thinking about fucking Dean has been keeping him up every night for the last week. From the sounds Dean is making, and the way his muscles tense and bunch, Dean is as close as Castiel.
“Cas, please…” Dean whines, and when Castiel pulls back to look at his face, Dean doesn’t look like he’s certain what he’s asking for. But Castiel knows and the way his name sounds rolling off of Dean’s tongue in that dark, desperate tone is something Castiel is sure he’ll never tire of hearing.
He licks his lips as he watches Dean catch his own lower lip between his teeth. “Come for me, Dean.” As much as Castiel wants to chase his own release, he’s much more interested in learning what Dean looks like when he orgasms. Castiel’s hand frees his own cock to reach over and cover Dean’s hand.
Dean is rutting up into their palms now, and Castiel guides his hand, keeping his pace steady when Dean starts to falter. Even with the barrier of Dean’s fingers, Castiel feels his cock twitch and pulse as Dean comes. Dean cries out Castiel’s name, head thrown back against the pillow, his eyes screw shut, and his mouth hangs open as Castiel works him through his orgasm.
Castiel thinks Dean has never been more beautiful than he is in that moment.
His hand is still covered in the thick, sticky warmth of Dean’s release when he reaches for his own cock again. Dean is still breathing heavily, but his hands are on Castiel’s chest now, greedily exploring the exposed flesh.
It doesn’t take long for Castiel’s release to pulse violently through his cock, spilling hot over his stomach and hand. His vision blurs and he closes his eyes and all he can feel is the ecstasy and Dean’s fingers caressing his skin softly.
Castiel wonders: if this is what things will be like, perhaps arranged marriage might not be as bad as he first thought.