( and that is precisely – fucking precisely – what he wants to preserve. the whole of it, every little thing that they've been building up to, everything that he'd never thought he'd even come close to wanting, because if it all crumbles in his hands, slips through his fingers, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to forgive himself for fucking this up.
he's never turned down sex, now. never once in his life, not a single time since he'd figured out that he could easily bury, burrow away the troubles of his life beneath the sheets and some squirming, curvy thing. any woman he's ever brought into his bed, they've never meant anything to him beyond the warmth of their hands and mouths, the sounds they made in the dark for him as he pressed them open and brought them to the kind of release they had likely never felt before and likely never would again once he'd taken his hands away. they're all nameless, now, faceless in the shadows of the closet where he keeps all his skeletons, and the one time he thinks he might have found something real, something substantial, he isn't taking any risks that he doesn't know for sure will work out in his favor.
and that, of course, makes it awkward now, with the way castiel drops his gaze. refuses to look at him even as he spills the contents of his heart all around them, laying himself open and leaving himself vulnerable as he never has before, and there's something in the tone of the other's voice – something that falls flat, falls short of believing him, and that tugs at something at the very center of his chest in a way that nothing else has yet. something that nothing else has even touched. )
No. No you don't – ( he drops down again, closing some of the distance he'd put between them and curling his hands against either side of castiel's neck, thumbs pressing just beneath the edge of his chin to force his gaze back up – even if he doesn't quite look at him directly, his own eyes trained on how pink, how plush his kiss-swollen mouth is, and he gives in to temptation far too easily as he leans in and takes again from those lips, kissing him deeply, fervently, trying to drive home the meaning of his words.
that he isn't being kind, even though there is kindness in him. he feels he's being cruel, when he really thinks about it, having let them get this far and then reeling back, dangling something they clearly both desperately want right in front of the other's nose.
he kisses him, again and again, unable to pull himself away from it until he finds himself breathless all over again, and even when he pulls back he lingers, the very tips of their noses bumping against one another as he breathes in deep, shuddering, hard-pressed to keep to his newfound morals instead of stripping off clothing. )
Don't say that like you think I'm lyin'. Like I'm trying to let you down easy – because I'm not.
no subject
he's never turned down sex, now. never once in his life, not a single time since he'd figured out that he could easily bury, burrow away the troubles of his life beneath the sheets and some squirming, curvy thing. any woman he's ever brought into his bed, they've never meant anything to him beyond the warmth of their hands and mouths, the sounds they made in the dark for him as he pressed them open and brought them to the kind of release they had likely never felt before and likely never would again once he'd taken his hands away. they're all nameless, now, faceless in the shadows of the closet where he keeps all his skeletons, and the one time he thinks he might have found something real, something substantial, he isn't taking any risks that he doesn't know for sure will work out in his favor.
and that, of course, makes it awkward now, with the way castiel drops his gaze. refuses to look at him even as he spills the contents of his heart all around them, laying himself open and leaving himself vulnerable as he never has before, and there's something in the tone of the other's voice – something that falls flat, falls short of believing him, and that tugs at something at the very center of his chest in a way that nothing else has yet. something that nothing else has even touched. )
No. No you don't – ( he drops down again, closing some of the distance he'd put between them and curling his hands against either side of castiel's neck, thumbs pressing just beneath the edge of his chin to force his gaze back up – even if he doesn't quite look at him directly, his own eyes trained on how pink, how plush his kiss-swollen mouth is, and he gives in to temptation far too easily as he leans in and takes again from those lips, kissing him deeply, fervently, trying to drive home the meaning of his words.
that he isn't being kind, even though there is kindness in him. he feels he's being cruel, when he really thinks about it, having let them get this far and then reeling back, dangling something they clearly both desperately want right in front of the other's nose.
he kisses him, again and again, unable to pull himself away from it until he finds himself breathless all over again, and even when he pulls back he lingers, the very tips of their noses bumping against one another as he breathes in deep, shuddering, hard-pressed to keep to his newfound morals instead of stripping off clothing. )
Don't say that like you think I'm lyin'. Like I'm trying to let you down easy – because I'm not.