Archive of Our Own ^beta

As Dean’s lungs start to burn from lack of oxygen, the panic starts to set in. He jerks his head back and forth to no avail, Cas’s hand over his nose and mouth simply following the movement. If he weren’t actively going fucking insane, he be a little surprised at how easily Cas does it, given the way his rhythm never falters for even a second as he nails Dean’s prostate with their largest dildo and unbelievable precision. 

Cas has been edging him for hours, brining him to the brink of orgasm over and over, stopping milliseconds before Dean is able to come. “I decide when—or if—you get breath,” he tsks, tone reprimanding. 

Dean shakes his head weakly. Cas merely pushes down harder. 

Forcing his eyes open, Dean stares up at his dom, hoping that a look can convey the begging that he’s unable to utter, and the bastard looks so fucking amused. Please, he begs silently. 

“You can breath when you come,” Cas says, and relief crashes over him in ways. 

Still, he can’t completely stop struggling to break free, his body fighting back against his mind. 

Cas slows his thrusts, stopping to grind the tip of the dildo against his overstimulated prostate with each stroke. 

Pleasure curls in his stomach, his orgasm so close that he can almost taste it. 

Dark spots dance in front of his vision. 

He’s about 50% sure that he’s going to pass out, well and truly panic, but his other half—the logical half—trusts Cas completely. 

The darkness creeps into the corners, and oh god he’s definitely going to pass out. He’s thrashing weakly, heat coiling tighter and tighter, waiting to be unraveled. 

Everything starts to fade when almost unbearable please washes over him, cock jerking as cum stripes his torso, ass clenching hard around the toy shoved against his prostate. At the same time, Cas’s hand vanishes. He fucking wails, back arching off the bed. Blood roars in his ears as air floods his lungs. 

Distantly, he hears Cas breath out a quiet “Good boy.”

His heart pounds in his chest as he greedily gulps in lungfuls of oxygen. 

As he drifts in that blissful, post orgasm haze, listening to the low rumble of Cas talking to him, though his brain is too fuzzy to register the words themselves, he’s pretty sure that—despite the hours of torture and teasing—it’s the best fucking orgasm he’s ever had. 

“Love you,” he slurs up at Cas. 

Cas smiles, his fingers carding through Dean’s sweaty hair, and leans down to press a soft kiss on his forehead. “I love you too, sweetheart.”