increasingly nsfw domcas/subdean headcanons

dom-cas:

• when dean can’t handle being complimented on his appearance or submission, cas just slaps a hand over his mouth, or shoves in his fingers to hold down dean’s tongue, and calmly continues talking

• obviously cas loves getting dean up against doors or walls so he can pin him in place, but he also likes being up against a wall himself so he call pull dean tightly against him, by his belt loops or jeans pockets or bare skin, and use the strength in his upper arms to hold him there, even if dean writhes or tries to drag him away

• since they started this whatever-it-is, at no time has dean not had bruises or marks somewhere, because cas monitors every inch of skin carefully and when he sees them fading he makes new ones

• cas uses his angelic sense of time to keep track of how long dean is paralyzed/unconscious/blissed-out after he comes, and has a mental list of which techniques work best and when to use them (e.g. if it’s a weekday morning he doesn’t want to immobilize dean, but if it’s the middle of the afternoon on saturday then he’s content to watch him try to catch his second wind, dragging his fingertips lightly over the tops of dean’s thighs, waiting for the instant his fucked-out gasps for oxygen turn back into shivery breath-hitches)

• he did once, early on, still befuddled by and groggy with desire, try to fuck dean’s armpit just to see if it could be done; but dean kept choking on laughter and saying it was too ticklish until finally, frustrated, cas held him down by both shoulders and moved a few inches up and over until he was half-buried in dean’s mouth, at which point dean froze and stopped laughing, until cas shifted again, straddled his rib cage, palms grinding into dean’s biceps, and said harshly, “dean, I know you can take me deeper,” and to both their surprise, he could; which is how dean’s room at the bunker got a fist-sized hole punched in the wall above his bed.

• cas knows that half the stuff he proposes, dean’s going to freak out about for at least 24 hours, and immediately declare it dirty and pervy and completely off the table: until it simmers long enough in his mind for him to admit that he always wanted to try whatever it is

• that’s why cas tends to suggest new things post-coitally, or even during sex, so that he can lean down and whisper in dean’s ear, “I’m going to come inside you, about to come so hard, dean, just a few more thrusts, I’m so close, you feel so fucking hot and tight and incredible I can’t stop it, can’t stop fucking into you—but you aren’t allowed to, not until l suck my come out of you and feed it back into your mouth, is that understood?” and dean immediately seizes up with a groan and bucks down once, sharply, burying his face in the sheets as he comes all over cas’s hand, saying “shit, fuck, l’m sorry, dammit, l’m sorry” as cas hides a smile between dean’s shoulder blades and fucks him steadily through the aftershocks, knowing exactly what he was doing (because now dean’s apologetic enough to let him try it next time)

• everyone knows that cas gets crazy sexhair from dean running his hands through it whenever he gets the chance; but he also gets it from grabbing it himself when he orders dean to undress them both, and it’s still overwhelming for him at times to watch dean smirk and pull off all his layers one by one (for which slutty display of skin he’ll later be punished, as he knows full well)

• when dean keeps asking if cas is disappointed that he never had the chance to move the furniture around with meg, cas finally gets it: it’s dean who can’t stop thinking about it. so cas ties him up one night with soft secure hemp rope until dean can’t move a muscle, and then cas, completely nude, rubs all over him, describing in exquisitely lurid, detailed whispers and moans exactly what he would have done with meg, starting with pulling her hair during what would have no doubt been an expert blow job, spanking her round ass until she was pleading and dripping wet (which, by this point, dean is as well; also cursing a blue streak, whining with jealousy and arousal, and so hard it hurts); how then cas would have her ride his face, sucking her off while pinching her nipples until she’d lost count of how many orgasms she’d had, and then he’d have fucked her, held her down underneath him while he fingered her ass until they both came screaming—which, coincidentally, by this point is also exactly what cas has done to dean.

• (“so would you still wanna sleep with her, if she showed up now?” dean asks later, hoarsely, trying to sound indifferent, from within the protective circle of castiel’s arms. cas brushes through dean’s still-sweaty hair, drops kisses along the side of his face. “I think if we did have a third, you should be allowed to pick that person,” he says thoughtfully; “although perhaps you’d prefer another man. and maybe,” he says innocently, shifting against the pillows and biting delicately into dean’s neck, earning him a stifled noise, “maybe you’d like to hear what I would have done to:“—he whispers a name into dean’s ear simply for the pleasure of seeing dean’s eyes go wide with shock. “how the fuck did you figure that out?” “I was an angel, dean, not a baby in a trenchcoat.”)

• cas always threatens to gag dean if he won’t stop pleading so loudly but he can’t bring himself to use anything more silencing than underwear, neckties, or his hand; because when dean begs, cas drinks in every muffled garbled syllable of longing—he expands, preens, feels like a seraph again, filled with the host, like blue-white light is going to shine out of every pore

• the first time he held dean over both knees and spanked him to tears, he had to clench his thighs to keep from coming

• cas may give off some vague social impression of being lazy or noncommittal but dean knows better: he’s not only seen cas carving bloody sigils into himself but now also knows the ruthless, implacable castiel who makes him put on a cockring and then count each blow of the flogger aloud, teasing along his perineum with it before striking some other place entirely, making dean twitch and jerk and swear, and won’t let up until he’s limp with pain and pleasure, head drooping and so deeply into it that he’s all but drooling, at which point cas strokes him slowly with the flogger as his skin cools and tightens and feeling rushes back in, then pulls dean back into a firm embrace, praising him and telling him how well he took it, how beautiful he is, how perfect and good, bringing him back up into consciousness while he makes dean lick his palm, “more, sweetheart, get it wet for me, as wet as my mouth, go on,” and then jacks him off so slowly dean thinks he’ll never be able to breathe or see straight again

• cas discovers almost right away that his own orgasm is an afterthought; that while he wants dean’s obedience and service and submission—seeing dean like this makes power coil down low in his stomach, makes it harder to breathe—it’s enough in itself; and when he comes down dean’s throat, holding his own breath, completely rigid, flooded with sensation, it’s less that he wants it from dean and more that dean wants to give it to him

• he also wants to be the sole source of dean’s pleasure and release; so busty asian beauties (“dean, it manages to be both sexist and racist at the same time”) is finally off the laptop for good. if cas is not around and dean feels aroused, he has to text and ask permission to come, and then has to do it exactly the way cas tells him to, even if he doesn’t like it (“you have 45 seconds, and not one more” or “fingers up the ass only, and you can only use two”)

• “jesus christ, cas.”
“mm.”
“…what the hell was that?”
“that…was us.”
“you kinky son of a bitch. I guess it is always the quiet ones.”
“I assume you’re not referring to yourself, since I think everyone in kansas heard you come.”
“what, me, was I loud? …okay, okay, don’t smite me! l’m kidding!”
“it’s also impossible for me to be kinky alone, dean. you’re participating as well.”
“…yeah. you know what, forget I said anything. that was totally average, normal, vanilla, suburban sex, which, actually, if it gets any more boring we should probably see a therap—hey! what the—oh.”
“shhh. hold still.”
“—oh shit. cas, what are you…you know it’s too s—it’s too s—fuck..”
“…”
“fuck, don’t stop, cas, please—”
“can you hold still by yourself, dean, or would you rather be tied again? either way is…more than fine with me.”