being with dean, being near to him like this, touching him, tasting him - it feels like coming alive again, like breathing fresh air after spending too long underground, feeling the sunshine on your face, hearing the breeze whisper through the trees. the world feels in color again, and castiel remembers just how sweet real intimacy can be. sex is all well and good, the physicality of pleasure with another human being is something that even he can always enjoy, but there's far more to it than that, with dean. this thing between them runs deep, they reach out to one another in every way, a deep yearning in the very marrow of his bones cries out for him, draws him near to dean and nothing will scratch that terrible itch besides this closeness. the feel of dean's kiss and the touch of his hands are all that can quiet the incessant, consuming need, all that can soothe the ache of longing that has gnawed his flesh and bones and spirit since the moment they first met.
and feeling that again, after so many long years, after the complete certainty that he would never experience such a thing again.. it is dazzling. captivating. he feels whole.
at least, of course, until the very moment that dean is stopping it. ]
But..
[ the words seem kind, in their own way, and castiel knows from experience that dean is a kind individual, that beneath all the bluster and charm and leather a warm, soft heart beats. it's what drew him to dean to begin with, it's the light that he saw buried so deep, a great capacity for love and loyalty and sentiment.
but dean winchester does not simply say no to sex. dean winchester does not turn down someone beneath him, hard and wanting, so very eager and entirely willing and castiel gives both of those in spades, would pour it all out for dean, strip himself bare and offer all of himself up on a silver plate for his consumption. never has he seen dean turn down the chance to score, to chase tail, and castiel cannot help but think that it is dean's kindness that is.. sparing his feelings.
because, truly, what could someone like dean really see in someone like castiel? he does't have the curves, the charm, the confidence. he's not beautiful or sleek or indulgent. he's.. quiet, and rumpled, awkward and stubborn and foolish, nose buried in a book and head in the clouds. he's so far and away from dean's type that it's laughable to think that he could have ever thought there was a chance. they had shared a brief moment, dean had been drinking, and now, well, now he must be sobering up, looking down at castiel beneath him half-dressed and panicking, wondering how the hell he has gotten himself wrapped up in this situation. and they are friends, of course, and good enough ones that it seems entirely feasible that dean would feel the need to let him down easy, to spare him the embarrassment of being turned down. ]
.. of course.
[ castiel's heart sinks like a stone, falling into the pit of his stomach and pulling at him like a weight, all the heat in his blood running cold, a tension rising in his bones that squeezes his chest and constricts his throat. dropping his eyes down and away, castiel clears his throat and nods sharply, to reaffirm. ]
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Date: 8 Apr 2016 10:56 (UTC)being with dean, being near to him like this, touching him, tasting him - it feels like coming alive again, like breathing fresh air after spending too long underground, feeling the sunshine on your face, hearing the breeze whisper through the trees. the world feels in color again, and castiel remembers just how sweet real intimacy can be. sex is all well and good, the physicality of pleasure with another human being is something that even he can always enjoy, but there's far more to it than that, with dean. this thing between them runs deep, they reach out to one another in every way, a deep yearning in the very marrow of his bones cries out for him, draws him near to dean and nothing will scratch that terrible itch besides this closeness. the feel of dean's kiss and the touch of his hands are all that can quiet the incessant, consuming need, all that can soothe the ache of longing that has gnawed his flesh and bones and spirit since the moment they first met.
and feeling that again, after so many long years, after the complete certainty that he would never experience such a thing again.. it is dazzling. captivating. he feels whole.
at least, of course, until the very moment that dean is stopping it. ]
But..
[ the words seem kind, in their own way, and castiel knows from experience that dean is a kind individual, that beneath all the bluster and charm and leather a warm, soft heart beats. it's what drew him to dean to begin with, it's the light that he saw buried so deep, a great capacity for love and loyalty and sentiment.
but dean winchester does not simply say no to sex. dean winchester does not turn down someone beneath him, hard and wanting, so very eager and entirely willing and castiel gives both of those in spades, would pour it all out for dean, strip himself bare and offer all of himself up on a silver plate for his consumption. never has he seen dean turn down the chance to score, to chase tail, and castiel cannot help but think that it is dean's kindness that is.. sparing his feelings.
because, truly, what could someone like dean really see in someone like castiel? he does't have the curves, the charm, the confidence. he's not beautiful or sleek or indulgent. he's.. quiet, and rumpled, awkward and stubborn and foolish, nose buried in a book and head in the clouds. he's so far and away from dean's type that it's laughable to think that he could have ever thought there was a chance. they had shared a brief moment, dean had been drinking, and now, well, now he must be sobering up, looking down at castiel beneath him half-dressed and panicking, wondering how the hell he has gotten himself wrapped up in this situation. and they are friends, of course, and good enough ones that it seems entirely feasible that dean would feel the need to let him down easy, to spare him the embarrassment of being turned down. ]
.. of course.
[ castiel's heart sinks like a stone, falling into the pit of his stomach and pulling at him like a weight, all the heat in his blood running cold, a tension rising in his bones that squeezes his chest and constricts his throat. dropping his eyes down and away, castiel clears his throat and nods sharply, to reaffirm. ]
I understand. That's very kind of you.