"Dean, I’ve never.." Castiel groans breathlessly.
The rest of the sentence dies on his lips, lost in the slow press of Dean’s hips to his own in the half-darkness of the motel room. Dean’s hands are on his face, tender and pulling their foreheads together as he gasps a hard breath and then another. Castiel’s head feels pleasantly light as he tries to remember just exactly how they got barely inside the door or how his back ended up against it. Torn as he is between the excitement of what might happen and worry about the same, he loses the memory almost as soon as he finds it.
"I know," Dean says, his voice strained at the edges. "I know, Cas."
They’ve been playing this game for months, stolen kisses and sly touches, but they’ve always stopped short of.. whatever this is. Dean pulls Castiel in for another kiss, his lips plump and slick from the kisses that came before; suddenly, Cas is falling, falling, falling. He pushes his hips forward experimentally as Dean’s tongue teases against his own, a whimper pulled from his throat at the drag of his cock against what could only be the equal hardness of Dean’s.
"We don’t have to," Dean murmurs as he breaks away from the kiss. His hips are pressed tight and holding, his mouth at the curve of Castiel’s jaw, stubble dragging deliciously. "It’s okay if we don’t."
Cas shivers and tries to stop the shaking of his hands as they settle on Dean’s waist. Eyes closed tightly, he struggles to process Dean’s words, then to decide how to answer. It’d be easier, of course, if those plush, wet lips weren’t teasing at the side of his neck. He forces a deep breath and opens his mouth to speak, but Dean’s teeth worry at the delicate skin below his ear and he forgets the words that were on the tip of his tongue, able only to moan.