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Dean never would have thought it would be like this. Not in a million years. He thought the angel would be gentle, tender, hesitant, thought that the sex would be slow and romantic and vanilla.

Not that he’s complaining, because he really isn’t. Dean grunts against the tiled wall as Castiel pushes into him in a rough, quick thrust. The water pours on his lower back, on where he’s joined to the angel, warm and splashing all around them in the small shower.

Castiel is greedy, ruthless. His hands grab Dean’s hips, hold him in place half-bent against the wall. His grip is strong and possessive, his dick hard and almost too big when he pushes inside Dean again and again. The angel groans against the back of Dean’s neck, a low, rumbling noise that sets Dean on fire.

Dean loves every second of it. He smiles and grunts and moans, bracing himself against the tiled wall, pushing his hips back to meet Castiel’s thrusts.

One of the angel’s hands slides around his waist, finds where Dean is hard and probably already leaking, though it’s hard to say with the water running all over them. His long fingers wrap around Dean’s cock, and then Castiel’s jerking him in rhythm with his thrusts, and it’s good, so good that Dean can feel he’s almost there already, that it would be so easy to tip over the edge.

Castiel’s clever mouth latches on the skin of his neck, kissing, licking, sucking on it. It’s the bite of hard, greedy teeth, almost enough to break the skin, that finally has Dean’s eyes close as he comes, hard, staining the wall of the shower.

Castiel is still thrusting in him, and Dean groans incoherent words of encouragement and approval. He’s pretty sure he isn’t making any sense, but Castiel doesn’t seem to mind his incoherency, because very soon he’s tensing up behind Dean, shoving deep inside the man as he comes with a groan so low that it rumbles in the bathroom, echoing against the walls. The mirror above the sink splits under the inhumanity of the sound.

Castiel falls over Dean against the wall, and they stay there for some time, catching their breath. Then, before the water runs cold, they clean up quickly after themselves. Dean tugs Castiel into a searing kiss right under the water, his hands running into the angel’s wild, wet hair. Castiel nips at his lower lip when they part.

“I love you,” the angel growls, then cuts the water off.

“I know,” Dean answers lazily. When the angel frowns, he adds, “I love you too.”

The smile he gets at that is even better than all the sex in the world.