[ dean is beautiful in the sleek, nearly feral roll of his body above him, all hard muscle and low, rumbling sounds, like a panther poised over him, against him, charged with hunger and animal need. castiel is happy to swallow all of the rough, hard noises that spill against his tongue, answering them with his own, each breathless moan fucked out of him by the steady rock of dean's hips as he finds his rhythm and sinks easily into it. castiel is captivated, wishes he could stand aside to watch it, to see the way dean's body moves, elegant and powerful, muscle rippling and bunching beneath his skin like rolling waves.
and he certainly knows what he's doing. every thrust of his cock is angled just right to strike that sweet spot, pressing and sliding mercilessly against his prostate, winding him up hard and fast. castiel's cock is hard and flushed again, caught between their bodies, aching, drooling precome hot and sticky against his belly but he doesn't want to get a hand between them, doesn't want anything between them but the friction, and the exhilarating slide of skin on skin.
it's all building like a song rising up and up towards its crescendo, though castiel feels he is lagging behind, he's come once already while dean has been forced to wait, patiently teased to desperation, but it doesn't matter. right now, this moment is all that matters. castiel breaks from the kiss to breathe, gulping mouthfuls of air, his mouth wet and pink from kissing and he clutches dean close by the hand in his hair, lifting his chin to stretch the sinuous length of his throat, his spine bending up and away from the sheets, hips bucking uselessly, like a pinned butterfly, held to the mattress by dean's weight. the hand against dean's back moves and shifts, sliding down the dip of his spine and up again, fingernails biting, dragging, pulling. ]
You feel so good, Dean. [ he says, pants, in a voice wrecked, like crushed glass beneath the heel of a boot. ] Harder, please.
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and he certainly knows what he's doing. every thrust of his cock is angled just right to strike that sweet spot, pressing and sliding mercilessly against his prostate, winding him up hard and fast. castiel's cock is hard and flushed again, caught between their bodies, aching, drooling precome hot and sticky against his belly but he doesn't want to get a hand between them, doesn't want anything between them but the friction, and the exhilarating slide of skin on skin.
it's all building like a song rising up and up towards its crescendo, though castiel feels he is lagging behind, he's come once already while dean has been forced to wait, patiently teased to desperation, but it doesn't matter. right now, this moment is all that matters. castiel breaks from the kiss to breathe, gulping mouthfuls of air, his mouth wet and pink from kissing and he clutches dean close by the hand in his hair, lifting his chin to stretch the sinuous length of his throat, his spine bending up and away from the sheets, hips bucking uselessly, like a pinned butterfly, held to the mattress by dean's weight. the hand against dean's back moves and shifts, sliding down the dip of his spine and up again, fingernails biting, dragging, pulling. ]
You feel so good, Dean. [ he says, pants, in a voice wrecked, like crushed glass beneath the heel of a boot. ] Harder, please.