It takes a few long moments before Dean's mind returns to any semblance of coherency. The slowing down of thrusts and rolling hips is like the final cherry on top of a huge ice cream sundae, and his body shivers through the aftershocks of it. He distantly realizes that Gabriel is talking to him, then spies that smug grin on his face and all he can do is push a hand lazily against that grinning face, mumbling something that might be 'Shut the hell up,' or 'Mmhrugh.'

He's too blissed out to really care, to be honest.