Crowley moans softly. Not only is Castiel a fast learner, but he's very intuitive about these things, the naught angel. Crowley wonders how much time he's spent thinking about doing this, not with Crowley necessarily, but at all. He doesn't exactly have a harem of angels to ask, but he'd venture to say most angels don't have much drive or interest.

Pace secured, his hand finds its way to Castiel's hip, where his grips tightly. Part of him would love to just keep the angel here forever and he very firmly tells himself that it's just the lure of sex and degradation. It could be any angel in his bed. This is just the one it happens to be.

He can feel his own orgasm building, not nearly as fast as Castiel's, but faster than usual. There's just something to this that's more erotic than just a little extra pain and he's not particularly embarrassed, if only because he knows Castiel has nothing to compare Crowley's timing to but himself.