As requested by the wonderful noelsammy, Dean in panties.
You and Cas have only been fooling around for a couple of weeks when he brings it up. It’s all been easy so far - casual dates, casual texts, and casual sex. Sex in Cas’ tiny apartment when his sister is out, sex in your dorm room when your roommate is out, and sex in the backseat of the Impala when you’re desperate.
Which is often. Sure, everything’s casual, but your need for Cas - and apparently his for you - is … the only word you can ever think to describe it is intense; intense looks on your dates, intense meaning behind certain texts, and the most intense sex you’ve ever had - touches and kisses, whispers and groans, staring and coming …
You clear your throat and fidget on the spot, not wanting to head anywhere towards that train of thought right now, because that train of thought includes feelings. Plus, you’re in Cas’ apartment, standing in the middle of the living room, ready for your date. But this isn’t just any date; this is your first date after Cas brought up … stuff.
I think I would very much enjoy you being … submissive for me, he had said, and damn it if you hadn’t blushed to your roots because Cas is the quiet guy who works in the library, studies Shakespeare, makes pro/con lists.
But Cas is also the guy who fucks you hard, whispers filth in your ear, and gets you to admit to the one thing you’ve never told anyone else.
Panties, you’d gasped, trying desperately to meet Cas’ denim-covered thrusts with your own, knowing that talking about kinks and rutting up against each other shouldn’t be as hot as it was. And after, when you were both sticky and messy, you’d given a quick explanation of Rhonda Hurley, and Cas had been fucking thrilled.
Cas is behind you now, and you can feel his silent stare. It’s dark in the apartment - the only light coming from the lamp next to the couch - and it helps your nerves. You silently count to ten, count backwards from ten, count to ninety eight in multiples of seven. You’re about ready to begin on prime numbers when Cas speaks up.
“Dean.” And it’s the first thing he’s said since letting you inside the apartment. “Are you -”
“Yes.” You quickly interject, but you aren’t even sure what Cas is asking. Are you okay? Are you sure? Are you ready?
He comes closer. “Show me.”
So that’s what he’s asking.
Your hands are shaking, and you’re so fucking thankful for the dim lighting, because you can literally feel the blush spreading over your body. But you don’t say anything in complaint; you shrug off your jacket and kicks off your shoes, and hurriedly continue with the rest of his clothes until you’re standing in Cas’ living room, naked.
Naked except for the light purple panties that barely cover your ass and cock. Your hard cock. Because, yeah, you’re already hard and aching, just from the knowledge of Cas’ gaze on you.
Cas breathes out a curse from behind you, and through the rush of blood in your ears, you barely hear it. And then Cas is behind you, leaning close enough for you to feel heat coming from him, but not close enough to touch, and it’s fucking torture. You swallow hard, desperate and curious.
“You have no idea, do you?”
You fight a shiver at the low voice in your ear. “Of - of what?”
“How fucking gorgeous you are.”
Cool sweat breaks out on hot skin, and it’s already too much - too much heat, too much want, too much achingly-wonderful need - and it’s all for Cas. It took two weeks of daily blow jobs from Rhonda before you agreed to the panties, and then half a dozen shots of whiskey before you actually put them on. Of course, once they were on, you kind of wished you’d done it sooner, but whatever.
But Cas, who you’ve only been screwing around with for a couple of weeks, already has you in a pair of panties. Already has your trust. And he only asked the once.
He’s still behind you and still not touching you, but he’s turning you into a fucking mess just by whispering to you and looking at you while you wear the smallest pair of panties you could find.
“Cas -” Your voice catches, but it doesn’t matter because you don’t even know what you were trying to say - touch me, taste me, take me - so you say nothing, hate the way you choke on your words, but fucking love the heavy chuckle Cas lets out at it.
“No idea at all,” he says, and then he finally touches you - one hand on each ass cheek, gripping tight and spreading - and you can’t help the grunt that comes out, the way you buck into his touch. His breath is hot and thick against your neck, and you want more, you want his lips.
“Cas, please -”
He stops touching you, and yeah, you whimper at the loss of contact, but you don’t even have it in yourself to be embarrassed about it. You’ve been in his apartment all of fifteen minutes, you’re already gagging for it, and you can’t bring yourself to be ashamed of it. Cas does things to you, and adding satin panties to the mix just makes you fucking crazy.
“Sit on the couch, Dean.”
And since this was supposed to be for the both of you, a night where you both get to test out your kinks, you do exactly as Cas says. You go to the couch on shaky legs, and look up at him through your lashes.
“Sit back,” he says softly. “And spread your legs.”
You don’t have to look down to know your panties are damp at the tip of your dick. You also don’t have to feign eager-to-please as you spread your legs and lean back, hands resting on your thighs.
Cas moans and drops to his knees, and for a second it almost seems like he’s lost his cool façade, because his hands grip your thighs and he looks up at you in something akin to awe.
“No idea,” he says again, and his fingers begin to trace circles on your legs. “How much you deserve, how happy you make me, how intensely I …”
You heart is a pounding mess of confusion and wonder and disbelief, but you say nothing. You’re still hard, desperate, but you wait. You wait for Cas to say whatever it is he wants to say, whatever it is he’s trying to tell you, and you hope.
But he says nothing, and you can’t handle the silence or his closed eyes, so you lift a hand and thread fingers through his soft hair. His eyes open slightly and he moves into your touch.
“Don’t go home tonight,” he says.
And you don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. “Huh?”
This time he looks at you through his lashes, and it hits you, again, just how beautiful he is. “Stay the night. Here. With me.”
“O - okay.”
“The whole night.”
And you know what this is, know that the casual sex that always ended with one of you leaving the other before midnight is now becoming … less casual.
You nod. “I’ll stay as long as you let me, Cas.” And it fucking terrifies you just how true that is, but Cas … his eyes light up and he licks his lips and looks at you as though you’ve just attained world peace.
“Fuck me,” he whispers, and it’s on the tip of your tongue to say something back, something witty and filthy, but he buries his face between your legs and laps greedily at the satin covering your cock.
Something incoherent and garbled falls from your mouth as your head falls against the back of the couch, because shit, Cas knows what to do with that fucking mouth of his, and all you can do - all you can ever do when his mouth is on you like this - is sit there and take it happily.
He licks at the panties, noses at the crease of your groin, and slides lower to suck on your balls, and everything is so good, so sensitive, so much better with the panties, that you’re panting and gasping within seconds, moaning and whispering his name, begging and pleading for more.
And Cas continues. He moves his hands to your shins and forces your feet onto the couch, and then you’re completely laid bare, completely open for him, and you’ve bottomed for him more times than you can count in the last few weeks, but it’s never been like this, never been this raw.
He pulls away to look up at you, and in the light of the lamp you can see his spit-slicked lips and chin, his red cheeks, his moused hair. And it’s fucking gorgeous.
“No idea,” he whispers, and wipes at his chin with the back of his hand, “just how good you are.”
“Cas …” You don’t know what to say, because no matter what Cas tells you, it’s always different coming from him. A simple hello from Cas is different than every hello from everyone else, and you like it - you like how it makes you feel, the things it does to you.
He shakes his head, and plucks at the hem of your panties. “These stay on all night, got it?”
“How are you gonna fuck me with these in the way?”
The grin he gives you is nothing but predatory. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out.” And, again, he’s at you before you can say anything, pulling your panties to the side for better access, licking his way up your cock, sucking at the head, then leaving it completely to spread your cheeks and lick your hole.
He licks you open with hurried strokes and pushes of his tongue, his hot palms pressed into the skin of your hips to keep you still, and you think to yourself, as he presses his lips against you and moans, that you might just never leave.