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Dean's not entirely sure how he pulled it off, to be honest, but somehow he's gotten Cas to a point where he actually enjoys car rides.
Well, maybe enjoys isn't the right word, but he no longer spends them either making jabs about how slow Baby is (which is enough to set a tension between them for the entire rest of the day, depending on how Cas phrases his barbs) or rolling his eyes and staring out the window wistfully.
Seriously, who knew angels could be such drama queens?
The first step had been letting Cas sit up front from time to time. Usually it was only when Sam was either off doing the work on another part of a job, or when Cas earned it in some way. It's not like Dean meant for it to be some weird kinky thing where Cas gets rewarded for shit—it had been completely harmless. Still is, but he does have to admit that it sounds kind of weird in retrospect.
The second step had been Cas learning how to sleep. Cas insists that it's just “dozing,” that he doesn't ever truly fall asleep, but Dean is calling bullshit on that right now. He doesn't really care what it is, though, because either way it means that Cas ends up passed out against the passenger door and there's something calming about driving off into the horizon with his angel snoozing away next to him.
The last step, which is something that he swears happens by accident, is when Cas realizes that he can rest his head in Dean's lap for these little dozing sessions. The first time it'd just been a matter of Dean thinking that Cas looked pretty damn uncomfortable in the weird-ass position he'd crammed himself into after falling asleep, and so he'd just sort of coaxed Cas toward his lap.
Honest mistake.
The thing is, the Impala makes it way too easy, seeing how the front seat is just one long bench. Awkward when it was him and Sammy up here, but surprisingly useful when it was Cas.
Because things have altered between them, shifting around into whatever they've got now. Dean still can't put a name on it, and it's not like they have cutesy pet names for each other or anything like that. It's just that sometimes they sit shoulder to shoulder, and sometimes Dean rents out his own room at a motel so that Cas can stay the night, and sometimes they have sex in a diner room bathroom. (That last one only happened once, for the record, and mainly had to do with Cas eating a slice of pie a la mode in about the most lewd way possible. No matter what Cas says, Dean's positive that was on purpose.)
So really, Cas' head on his lap while he drives isn't such a big deal. Sometimes he even lets his free hand shift down to run through Cas' hair, and Sam isn't around to call him on it. Which is exactly what's going on now as they make the long drive to meet up with Sam, who's gone on ahead to look into a hunt.
What makes the whole lap thing more of a big deal, though, is when Dean just happens to pop a boner when they're in that position. It's not because of Cas being there or anything—it's just one of those boners that happens at random, but in this case it comes at the worst possible time.
Even so, it wouldn't have been so bad if Cas had stayed asleep and the erection had worn off, but things in Dean Winchester's life are just never that simple—and so a minute later, Castiel's eyes blink open.
“Hey,” Dean murmurs, offering a greeting instead of doing the logical thing and shoving Cas off of him. For some reason, he can't really bring himself to do that, not when Cas is looking groggy in a way that he would deny but is kind of adorable either way. (Dean hates Cas for actually causing him to think of anything as adorable, but Cas has caused him to do lots of things that he never would have predicted.)
“Hello, Dean,” Cas responds, and he actually shifts around, pressing the side of his head against Dean's thigh as he tries to get comfortable.
That causes Dean to jerk up slightly, and he almost steers the car right off the road—luckily for them, it's the middle of the night and they're also in the middle of nowhere, so there isn't much danger in what they're doing. Dean just has to remember to keep his eyes on the road at least half of the time, and they'll be fine.
“Watch it, dude,” Dean mutters as he tries to shift back into a more natural position. This is when he should do it, when he should just push Cas away, but instead—
Instead Cas shifts around again and manages to nuzzle the back of his head against Dean's stomach, which gives him butterflies and turns him on at the same time and it's just a whole lot to go through while driving. Dean's hands grip tight around the steering wheel as he swallows the lump in his throat.
“Where are we?” Cas asks, his tone thick with sleep.
“Does it matter? Middle of friggen nowhere. It's gonna be another few hours.”
Cas is quiet for a few seconds, long enough that Dean wonders if maybe he's fallen back to sleep and he can avoid all the awkwardness that comes with having a stiffy while your angel has his head in your lap.
Not so lucky, though. Naturally. “How long was I asleep?” Cas asks.
Dean just focuses on keeping his whole lap area as still as possible as he stares straight ahead at the road. “I dunno, a couple of hours? Why?”
“I would rather not force you to drive in silence for too long.”
“It's no big deal,” Dean responds with a small shrug. Sam had passed out on him for six whole hours plenty of times; it's just part of the job when you're driving cross-country all the time. It would kill him, how much he spends on gas, if he'd ever been using his own money.
“I consider it one,” Castiel says. “On the other hand, I'm... comfortable where I am.”
Dean laughs nervously, because while he wants to think it's a win for him if Cas likes laying his head in his lap, that's really not working to his benefit right now. Maybe he should just admit to it and get the awkwardness over with. “Uhh, well, whatever you want, dude. I guess we can talk like this.”
Castiel shrugs, and that one small shrug is Dean's death sentence, because it means that Castiel's shoulder moves upward and manages to rub right against Dean's hard-on. Once again, he tries to jerk away, but it only sends Cas' head knocking against the steering wheel.
“Shit! Sorry.”
Castiel takes that as his cue to move away, sitting up with some reluctance. He has a baffled look on his face, like he's not quite sure what just happened.
Maybe Dean got away with it somehow. Maybe—
“Apologies. I didn't realize.”
Nope.
It's time to play it cool. Dean sucks in a breath. “It's fine, man, shit happens.” He's doing his very best to just not look at Cas, which is hard because the two of them tend to stare into each other's eyes. It's kind of a... thing. Not one that he can even begin to explain, but that's not the point.
“Did you... need help?” Castiel's gaze shifts down—Dean sees it out of the corner of his eye—and while he's mainly just shocked at the very suggestion, he can't help the shock of pleasure that runs down his stomach and through his crotch area at the idea of it.
Like he's already established, it's the middle of nowhere. All he's got to do is drive in a straight line. So maybe Cas could even...
“Uhh.” Dean wants to be smooth and totally knock this out of the park, but half of the blood that should be powering his brain is powering his dick into full hardness, so it's difficult. “I mean, if you want to.”
Castiel scoots closer to him, until their shoulders are touching, and Dean gives in, looking away from the road to stare into Cas' face.
Cas leans in to kiss him and Dean slams his foot down on the accelerator, an automatic reaction that sends the Impala rocketing forward. Both of them are shoved forward by the momentum, but Dean manages to hit the brakes before anything too disastrous happens.
“Dean.”
“Sorry.” Dean sends Cas his best winning smile, and he's pretty sure that Cas actually wilts under it. Yeah, he's still got it.
“We should pull over.”
“Oh, I don't know,” Dean says with a roll of his shoulders as he gets the car moving again. “What's wrong with living dangerously?”
The thing is, he's had girls give him handjobs while driving. He's done that a few times before, but he's never had the balls to try for a blowjob. He cares too much about his car and he's too worried about what might go wrong if he gets too into it, but he trusts Cas and he trusts this abandoned road and he really wants those lips that just kissed him to kiss something else, that's all.
Castiel's giving him one of those perfected confused stares, complete with the slight head tilt, and Dean just takes that as an invitation, reaching out with one hand for the side of Cas' neck. He pulls him back down, until his cheek hits Dean's lap. And if Cas' chin brushes against Dean's dick—through two layers of clothing, but still—then that only adds to his eagerness.
“Oh,” Castiel says, his voice muffled as his mouth is pressed against Dean's thigh. “I see.”
Dean raises both eyebrows and nods before he realizes that the car is veering slightly to the left. He corrects it—he's got this. “Might be fun.”
Cas doesn't take all that long to think it over before he lifts his head slightly, reaching out with one hand to grab for Dean's belt buckle. The guy's a pro at undressing him by now, which is unbearably hot. There's just something so messed up about the fact that he taught an angel how to have sex, and that Cas has actually gotten good at this, but Dean has absolutely no regrets about the whole thing.
He doesn't think Cas does either. He hopes not, anyway.
It's harder than Dean really expected to not put all of his attention into what Cas is doing, but he focuses on the road even as Cas pulls the belt out of its loops and then unbuttons and unzips him.
There's really no need for Dean to even pull his pants down, because Cas just fishes right into the opening in his jeans and grabs for his dick, which is pretty damn hard by now, whipping it out expertly.
For a second, Dean feels guilty. This won't be the first time he's had sex of some kind with an angel in his car, but it's his car, so he gets to do what he wants. Still, he silently apologizes to Baby. It's the polite thing to do.
“Ready?” Dean asks, peering away from the windshield for just a moment.
Cas' mouth is hovering dangerously close to his dick at this point. “I trust you won't get yourself killed.”
“I'm good,” Dean says with a shrug, making it as casual as he can. “You just do your thing down there and we'll be golden.”
Cas makes this noise at the back of his throat, this hum of approval that makes Dean even more aroused. His shifts around where he's sitting, but then Cas closes the distance between them, wrapping his mouth around him, and Dean has to work very, very hard at not sending them off the road into the desert.
There's something about the way that Cas starts sucking—the thing is, he's doing it voraciously, like he can't get enough. Cas tends to be pretty intense when they have sex, because that's just how he is, but this is even worse than usual.
Dean's not as prepared for it as he thought, and a few strangled sounds come out of his mouth as he fights to keep a hold on himself, clutching tight onto the steering wheel as some weird form of support. Castiel's lips move up and down, swallowing him fucking whole, and Dean actually moans.
But it doesn't take him long to realize what's going on here. Cas is calling him on his bluff, trying to prove to Dean that he can't get sucked off by him and drive at the same time. They do this sometimes, playing games with each other without ever stating the rules, because it's fun and because they like to one-up each other. Yeah, he'll show Cas that he's perfectly capable of handling his car and his angel simultaneously.
It takes a lot of effort, though, and while Dean keeps his gaze on those white lines that separate the two sides of this backwater road, he's pretty much completely taken with what's going on down below, which is Cas sucking on him like he's a fucking popsicle—who the fuck told him he could do that? How is this even fair?
Dean shoves hard against the seat back, doing his best not to strain his hips up and completely lose his footing on the pedals. Because seriously, he doesn't want his obituary to read that he drove into a ditch and died while getting a blowjob; he'd rather go out in a blaze of glory, and not one caused by him coming hard into Cas' mouth.
Which, okay, he's not quite there yet, but Cas is really going for it and Dean's hands feel slick with sweat, sliding all over the steering wheel. And he can't help it—for just a split second, he glances downward, taking in what he can see, which is mainly just the back of Cas' head, but it's also the back of Cas' head in his crotch which makes it pretty damn attractive. Dean caves and removes one of his hands from the wheel to thread through Cas' hair.
“You know... you're the first person I've let do this, right?” Dean gets it out through quick, panting breaths. He wants to let Cas know because there's always been this weird imbalance between them. Dean doesn't mind it—in fact, he kind of enjoys teaching Cas everything and watching him get into it—but he knows that it's a point of contention, that he's done so much and Cas feels like he can't offer anything new.
To be honest, the fact that Cas is a dude (or in a dude's body, anyway—Cas always feels the need to make a distinction) means that it's already a whole new world, but that never seems to get through no matter how many times Dean says it.
Either way, what he said seems to hit its mark. Castiel pauses, pulling his mouth off of Dean. He stares in silence for a second before he leans in slowly and starts to lick up Dean's dick in the slowest, most pornographic way possible.
Dean gasps and then lets out a low groan, his eyes squeezing shut before he remembers that yeah, he's still driving. He yanks the steering wheel to the right and then stutters out a laugh. “Fuck—fuck you. Fuck.”
“I don't think we can do that while driving, Dean,” Cas says in that smarmy, too-good-for-you way that Dean both loves and hates. He loves it right now because Cas also happens to be sucking him off, and right after saying that Cas puts his mouth all the way around him again.
“Yeah, but—but I bet you wish you could.” Dean likes to tease Cas about how into this he gets, how he can seriously end up begging for it if Dean gets him going the right way. There's always a bit of a power play between them, because Cas isn't the type to just lay back and take it, either. Yeah, he's giving Dean what he asked for, but he sure is being a bitch about it. In the best possible way, but still.
They hit a bump, which sends both of them jostling and almost causes Cas to choke, but he makes a graceful save. That's Cas, always able to work under pressure, and Dean thinks he's doing a decent job himself. He sees some lights far in the distance, though, and realizes that they might be reaching civilization sooner than they realized.
Good thing that Cas is so good at this, then, because after a few more rhythmic movements with his mouth, Dean just loses it, his stomach tensing up as he feels himself let go. Cas takes it like a champ, though, swallowing it all down as if he's been doing this for years.
For a moment, both of them are quiet, and Cas doesn't even bother to pull away just yet. He keeps his mouth around him, even though he's flaccid now, and Dean finds that he doesn't mind.
His hand in Cas' hair goes from rough and tugging to soft as he starts to stroke there instead—because seriously, Cas did a good job and this seems like the easiest way to tell him that, since Dean's definitely breathing too hard to say much. He's even slowed down how fast he's driving to match the feel of the afterglow that he's riding out.
“You—uhh, you can stay there, you know.” Dean doesn't know where it comes from, exactly, but he likes Cas where he is right now. It's the middle of the night, both of them are pretty content with what just happened, and there just doesn't seem to be any reason why Cas' mouth shouldn't stay on his dick.
Cas nods as best he can, shifts his head around into a more comfortable position, and it actually kind of works. It may be one of the weirder things that Dean's done, but the thing about Cas is that he doesn't care. He has no preconceived notions of how sex should be, or of what's shameful or not, and so Dean can just be himself. He can say what he wants and Cas goes with it most of the time, and that? That is awesome.
Dean can't help but have a little fun with it, though, and so he slides his hand down to the back of Cas' neck, kneading him there in an almost soothing way. “I mean—come on, that's where you want to be most of the time, anyway,” he says with a chuckle.
Cas actually tries to respond—it's an unintelligible sound at the back of his throat, something that Dean actually feels vibrate against his dick, and man, if he didn't have a refractory period he would have just gotten hard all over again at that.
Eventually, he will end up getting hard again, and they'll deal with that when it happens. For now, though, Dean is just going to enjoy the hell out of this.
If he has a huge smile on his face as he drives through the small town that they eventually reach, then at least no one who spots him will have any idea as to why.
Well, maybe enjoys isn't the right word, but he no longer spends them either making jabs about how slow Baby is (which is enough to set a tension between them for the entire rest of the day, depending on how Cas phrases his barbs) or rolling his eyes and staring out the window wistfully.
Seriously, who knew angels could be such drama queens?
The first step had been letting Cas sit up front from time to time. Usually it was only when Sam was either off doing the work on another part of a job, or when Cas earned it in some way. It's not like Dean meant for it to be some weird kinky thing where Cas gets rewarded for shit—it had been completely harmless. Still is, but he does have to admit that it sounds kind of weird in retrospect.
The second step had been Cas learning how to sleep. Cas insists that it's just “dozing,” that he doesn't ever truly fall asleep, but Dean is calling bullshit on that right now. He doesn't really care what it is, though, because either way it means that Cas ends up passed out against the passenger door and there's something calming about driving off into the horizon with his angel snoozing away next to him.
The last step, which is something that he swears happens by accident, is when Cas realizes that he can rest his head in Dean's lap for these little dozing sessions. The first time it'd just been a matter of Dean thinking that Cas looked pretty damn uncomfortable in the weird-ass position he'd crammed himself into after falling asleep, and so he'd just sort of coaxed Cas toward his lap.
Honest mistake.
The thing is, the Impala makes it way too easy, seeing how the front seat is just one long bench. Awkward when it was him and Sammy up here, but surprisingly useful when it was Cas.
Because things have altered between them, shifting around into whatever they've got now. Dean still can't put a name on it, and it's not like they have cutesy pet names for each other or anything like that. It's just that sometimes they sit shoulder to shoulder, and sometimes Dean rents out his own room at a motel so that Cas can stay the night, and sometimes they have sex in a diner room bathroom. (That last one only happened once, for the record, and mainly had to do with Cas eating a slice of pie a la mode in about the most lewd way possible. No matter what Cas says, Dean's positive that was on purpose.)
So really, Cas' head on his lap while he drives isn't such a big deal. Sometimes he even lets his free hand shift down to run through Cas' hair, and Sam isn't around to call him on it. Which is exactly what's going on now as they make the long drive to meet up with Sam, who's gone on ahead to look into a hunt.
What makes the whole lap thing more of a big deal, though, is when Dean just happens to pop a boner when they're in that position. It's not because of Cas being there or anything—it's just one of those boners that happens at random, but in this case it comes at the worst possible time.
Even so, it wouldn't have been so bad if Cas had stayed asleep and the erection had worn off, but things in Dean Winchester's life are just never that simple—and so a minute later, Castiel's eyes blink open.
“Hey,” Dean murmurs, offering a greeting instead of doing the logical thing and shoving Cas off of him. For some reason, he can't really bring himself to do that, not when Cas is looking groggy in a way that he would deny but is kind of adorable either way. (Dean hates Cas for actually causing him to think of anything as adorable, but Cas has caused him to do lots of things that he never would have predicted.)
“Hello, Dean,” Cas responds, and he actually shifts around, pressing the side of his head against Dean's thigh as he tries to get comfortable.
That causes Dean to jerk up slightly, and he almost steers the car right off the road—luckily for them, it's the middle of the night and they're also in the middle of nowhere, so there isn't much danger in what they're doing. Dean just has to remember to keep his eyes on the road at least half of the time, and they'll be fine.
“Watch it, dude,” Dean mutters as he tries to shift back into a more natural position. This is when he should do it, when he should just push Cas away, but instead—
Instead Cas shifts around again and manages to nuzzle the back of his head against Dean's stomach, which gives him butterflies and turns him on at the same time and it's just a whole lot to go through while driving. Dean's hands grip tight around the steering wheel as he swallows the lump in his throat.
“Where are we?” Cas asks, his tone thick with sleep.
“Does it matter? Middle of friggen nowhere. It's gonna be another few hours.”
Cas is quiet for a few seconds, long enough that Dean wonders if maybe he's fallen back to sleep and he can avoid all the awkwardness that comes with having a stiffy while your angel has his head in your lap.
Not so lucky, though. Naturally. “How long was I asleep?” Cas asks.
Dean just focuses on keeping his whole lap area as still as possible as he stares straight ahead at the road. “I dunno, a couple of hours? Why?”
“I would rather not force you to drive in silence for too long.”
“It's no big deal,” Dean responds with a small shrug. Sam had passed out on him for six whole hours plenty of times; it's just part of the job when you're driving cross-country all the time. It would kill him, how much he spends on gas, if he'd ever been using his own money.
“I consider it one,” Castiel says. “On the other hand, I'm... comfortable where I am.”
Dean laughs nervously, because while he wants to think it's a win for him if Cas likes laying his head in his lap, that's really not working to his benefit right now. Maybe he should just admit to it and get the awkwardness over with. “Uhh, well, whatever you want, dude. I guess we can talk like this.”
Castiel shrugs, and that one small shrug is Dean's death sentence, because it means that Castiel's shoulder moves upward and manages to rub right against Dean's hard-on. Once again, he tries to jerk away, but it only sends Cas' head knocking against the steering wheel.
“Shit! Sorry.”
Castiel takes that as his cue to move away, sitting up with some reluctance. He has a baffled look on his face, like he's not quite sure what just happened.
Maybe Dean got away with it somehow. Maybe—
“Apologies. I didn't realize.”
Nope.
It's time to play it cool. Dean sucks in a breath. “It's fine, man, shit happens.” He's doing his very best to just not look at Cas, which is hard because the two of them tend to stare into each other's eyes. It's kind of a... thing. Not one that he can even begin to explain, but that's not the point.
“Did you... need help?” Castiel's gaze shifts down—Dean sees it out of the corner of his eye—and while he's mainly just shocked at the very suggestion, he can't help the shock of pleasure that runs down his stomach and through his crotch area at the idea of it.
Like he's already established, it's the middle of nowhere. All he's got to do is drive in a straight line. So maybe Cas could even...
“Uhh.” Dean wants to be smooth and totally knock this out of the park, but half of the blood that should be powering his brain is powering his dick into full hardness, so it's difficult. “I mean, if you want to.”
Castiel scoots closer to him, until their shoulders are touching, and Dean gives in, looking away from the road to stare into Cas' face.
Cas leans in to kiss him and Dean slams his foot down on the accelerator, an automatic reaction that sends the Impala rocketing forward. Both of them are shoved forward by the momentum, but Dean manages to hit the brakes before anything too disastrous happens.
“Dean.”
“Sorry.” Dean sends Cas his best winning smile, and he's pretty sure that Cas actually wilts under it. Yeah, he's still got it.
“We should pull over.”
“Oh, I don't know,” Dean says with a roll of his shoulders as he gets the car moving again. “What's wrong with living dangerously?”
The thing is, he's had girls give him handjobs while driving. He's done that a few times before, but he's never had the balls to try for a blowjob. He cares too much about his car and he's too worried about what might go wrong if he gets too into it, but he trusts Cas and he trusts this abandoned road and he really wants those lips that just kissed him to kiss something else, that's all.
Castiel's giving him one of those perfected confused stares, complete with the slight head tilt, and Dean just takes that as an invitation, reaching out with one hand for the side of Cas' neck. He pulls him back down, until his cheek hits Dean's lap. And if Cas' chin brushes against Dean's dick—through two layers of clothing, but still—then that only adds to his eagerness.
“Oh,” Castiel says, his voice muffled as his mouth is pressed against Dean's thigh. “I see.”
Dean raises both eyebrows and nods before he realizes that the car is veering slightly to the left. He corrects it—he's got this. “Might be fun.”
Cas doesn't take all that long to think it over before he lifts his head slightly, reaching out with one hand to grab for Dean's belt buckle. The guy's a pro at undressing him by now, which is unbearably hot. There's just something so messed up about the fact that he taught an angel how to have sex, and that Cas has actually gotten good at this, but Dean has absolutely no regrets about the whole thing.
He doesn't think Cas does either. He hopes not, anyway.
It's harder than Dean really expected to not put all of his attention into what Cas is doing, but he focuses on the road even as Cas pulls the belt out of its loops and then unbuttons and unzips him.
There's really no need for Dean to even pull his pants down, because Cas just fishes right into the opening in his jeans and grabs for his dick, which is pretty damn hard by now, whipping it out expertly.
For a second, Dean feels guilty. This won't be the first time he's had sex of some kind with an angel in his car, but it's his car, so he gets to do what he wants. Still, he silently apologizes to Baby. It's the polite thing to do.
“Ready?” Dean asks, peering away from the windshield for just a moment.
Cas' mouth is hovering dangerously close to his dick at this point. “I trust you won't get yourself killed.”
“I'm good,” Dean says with a shrug, making it as casual as he can. “You just do your thing down there and we'll be golden.”
Cas makes this noise at the back of his throat, this hum of approval that makes Dean even more aroused. His shifts around where he's sitting, but then Cas closes the distance between them, wrapping his mouth around him, and Dean has to work very, very hard at not sending them off the road into the desert.
There's something about the way that Cas starts sucking—the thing is, he's doing it voraciously, like he can't get enough. Cas tends to be pretty intense when they have sex, because that's just how he is, but this is even worse than usual.
Dean's not as prepared for it as he thought, and a few strangled sounds come out of his mouth as he fights to keep a hold on himself, clutching tight onto the steering wheel as some weird form of support. Castiel's lips move up and down, swallowing him fucking whole, and Dean actually moans.
But it doesn't take him long to realize what's going on here. Cas is calling him on his bluff, trying to prove to Dean that he can't get sucked off by him and drive at the same time. They do this sometimes, playing games with each other without ever stating the rules, because it's fun and because they like to one-up each other. Yeah, he'll show Cas that he's perfectly capable of handling his car and his angel simultaneously.
It takes a lot of effort, though, and while Dean keeps his gaze on those white lines that separate the two sides of this backwater road, he's pretty much completely taken with what's going on down below, which is Cas sucking on him like he's a fucking popsicle—who the fuck told him he could do that? How is this even fair?
Dean shoves hard against the seat back, doing his best not to strain his hips up and completely lose his footing on the pedals. Because seriously, he doesn't want his obituary to read that he drove into a ditch and died while getting a blowjob; he'd rather go out in a blaze of glory, and not one caused by him coming hard into Cas' mouth.
Which, okay, he's not quite there yet, but Cas is really going for it and Dean's hands feel slick with sweat, sliding all over the steering wheel. And he can't help it—for just a split second, he glances downward, taking in what he can see, which is mainly just the back of Cas' head, but it's also the back of Cas' head in his crotch which makes it pretty damn attractive. Dean caves and removes one of his hands from the wheel to thread through Cas' hair.
“You know... you're the first person I've let do this, right?” Dean gets it out through quick, panting breaths. He wants to let Cas know because there's always been this weird imbalance between them. Dean doesn't mind it—in fact, he kind of enjoys teaching Cas everything and watching him get into it—but he knows that it's a point of contention, that he's done so much and Cas feels like he can't offer anything new.
To be honest, the fact that Cas is a dude (or in a dude's body, anyway—Cas always feels the need to make a distinction) means that it's already a whole new world, but that never seems to get through no matter how many times Dean says it.
Either way, what he said seems to hit its mark. Castiel pauses, pulling his mouth off of Dean. He stares in silence for a second before he leans in slowly and starts to lick up Dean's dick in the slowest, most pornographic way possible.
Dean gasps and then lets out a low groan, his eyes squeezing shut before he remembers that yeah, he's still driving. He yanks the steering wheel to the right and then stutters out a laugh. “Fuck—fuck you. Fuck.”
“I don't think we can do that while driving, Dean,” Cas says in that smarmy, too-good-for-you way that Dean both loves and hates. He loves it right now because Cas also happens to be sucking him off, and right after saying that Cas puts his mouth all the way around him again.
“Yeah, but—but I bet you wish you could.” Dean likes to tease Cas about how into this he gets, how he can seriously end up begging for it if Dean gets him going the right way. There's always a bit of a power play between them, because Cas isn't the type to just lay back and take it, either. Yeah, he's giving Dean what he asked for, but he sure is being a bitch about it. In the best possible way, but still.
They hit a bump, which sends both of them jostling and almost causes Cas to choke, but he makes a graceful save. That's Cas, always able to work under pressure, and Dean thinks he's doing a decent job himself. He sees some lights far in the distance, though, and realizes that they might be reaching civilization sooner than they realized.
Good thing that Cas is so good at this, then, because after a few more rhythmic movements with his mouth, Dean just loses it, his stomach tensing up as he feels himself let go. Cas takes it like a champ, though, swallowing it all down as if he's been doing this for years.
For a moment, both of them are quiet, and Cas doesn't even bother to pull away just yet. He keeps his mouth around him, even though he's flaccid now, and Dean finds that he doesn't mind.
His hand in Cas' hair goes from rough and tugging to soft as he starts to stroke there instead—because seriously, Cas did a good job and this seems like the easiest way to tell him that, since Dean's definitely breathing too hard to say much. He's even slowed down how fast he's driving to match the feel of the afterglow that he's riding out.
“You—uhh, you can stay there, you know.” Dean doesn't know where it comes from, exactly, but he likes Cas where he is right now. It's the middle of the night, both of them are pretty content with what just happened, and there just doesn't seem to be any reason why Cas' mouth shouldn't stay on his dick.
Cas nods as best he can, shifts his head around into a more comfortable position, and it actually kind of works. It may be one of the weirder things that Dean's done, but the thing about Cas is that he doesn't care. He has no preconceived notions of how sex should be, or of what's shameful or not, and so Dean can just be himself. He can say what he wants and Cas goes with it most of the time, and that? That is awesome.
Dean can't help but have a little fun with it, though, and so he slides his hand down to the back of Cas' neck, kneading him there in an almost soothing way. “I mean—come on, that's where you want to be most of the time, anyway,” he says with a chuckle.
Cas actually tries to respond—it's an unintelligible sound at the back of his throat, something that Dean actually feels vibrate against his dick, and man, if he didn't have a refractory period he would have just gotten hard all over again at that.
Eventually, he will end up getting hard again, and they'll deal with that when it happens. For now, though, Dean is just going to enjoy the hell out of this.
If he has a huge smile on his face as he drives through the small town that they eventually reach, then at least no one who spots him will have any idea as to why.