heavenonearth | angels with crushes are always problematic

angels with crushes are always problematic

[ continued from this nonsense. ]

[ castiel's brow furrows, and for a moment he's too busy trying to decide whether or not to be insulted by that to even bother with being flustered, but then dean's presenting a question he feels has an obvious answer. ]

It's been working out fine.

[ and it's not as if castiel really knows any better. this isn't exactly his area of expertise, and whatever tangled feelings he has for dean - they're not appropriate, and they're not necessary. if he's learned anything about humans, it's that love complicates things, makes everything more difficult, and dean is.. well, not something or someone that castiel is willing to risk, over something so silly as a crush, if that's what this is. what they have now? it's good. it's fine. ]

I don't see why it should change.

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[ generally speaking, castiel is the one climbing into people's personal spaces, not the other way around, so he's not expecting it when dean looms in close again, has only a few brief seconds to lift his eyes, mouth slack like he's going to speak, but whatever words he's choosing die on his tongue the moment dean's mouth seals over his own.

.. in hindsight, he should have expected it. dean's always doing this sort of thing, simply taking what he wants, fearless and uncompromising, but still castiel had never expected this, had never thought that dean would ever in any way even return a sliver of what he feels. oh, dean loves him. he knows that. he's dean's best friend, his confidant, his brother in arms. they're family, and he has never doubted dean's loyalty, and sure, dean can be a serious pain in the ass, he's abrasive and rough and he's certainly no good at talking about his feelings, but castiel knows him well enough to not have to worry about the sincerity of his heart. but this? this is a different sort of love entirely, this is a.. privilege that castiel was sure he would never be afforded.

he snaps up tight at first, stiff and terrified, his lips a hard line beneath dean's, his entire body taut as a bowstring, his hands flying to dean's wrists and grasping hard like he's considering pushing him away, or pulling him nearer, but can't decide on which. he's in disbelief. he's damned hopeless, is what he is.

.. but after a moment he begins to ease, his mouth softening and his grip on dean's wrists loosening as he shuts his eyes and parts his lips and breathes in the warm, familiar scent of leather and whiskey. ]

[Well, he's not sure what exactly he was expecting when he locked lips with Cas, but the tenseness was a little disappointing and his first thought was 'Please Cas don't make this weird', but in hindsight he really shouldn't have expected anything else. And he might have pulled back if it wasn't for the iron grasp of those hands around his wrists. He's well aware that this could go either way and wind up with him crashing throw the wall, but even that would have been better than the stalemate they were at right before this.

He's not thinking much past the moment, but when Cas relaxes and opens up to him, he can't help but think maybe this could end...well he knows better than to think it'll end well, but maybe they could skip the normal fire and brimstone ending.

He's got to admit, that there's a warmth that settles through him when he sees those eyes flutter shut. Like Cas has got all the faith in the world in him and trusts him to handle this right. It's always such a heavy weight, but he'll take it.

With those lips open, he can't ignore the curious need to taste and he deepens the kiss with a soft hum, and the only reason his hands aren't trailing up into that hair that he's wanted to ruffle for too damn long to count is because of the loose grip Cas still has on them, and he's not going to rip away the guy's anchor if he needs it.]

[ it will never be as instinctive to him as it is to dean - physicality like this, closeness, something like kissing. he's not human, however much he might look it, however well he might have settled into this vessel, but every sensation is a wonder to him when he takes the time to appreciate them.

and the warmth and texture of dean's mouth - it's good, nice in a way that's really entirely new. after his brush with humanity, castiel knows what it's like to experience intimacy in a way far more carnal than what he's accustomed to, but this is dean, this is someone very special to him, someone who means the world to him, whom he's given up everything he has ever known for. so it may as well be entirely new, as far as castiel is concerned. kissing dean isn't like kissing anyone else. so his heart is pounding fast when he tilts his head and slides his hands down to dean's elbows, then forward to his chest, grasping white-knuckled in the fabric of his shirt. his head tilts to follow dean's lead, tries not to think too hard about what to do even if he still feels strung tight as a spring.

the touch of dean's tongue is electric, and castiel's breath rushes, a sound moving in his throat involuntarily, warmth blooming beneath his ribs. not to be outdone, he mimics, dipping into dean's mouth, tasting him, feeling him and it's so strange but so good all at once, warm and wet and sweet. ]

[There are so many parts of his life that are full of pain and urgency that he's grown to appreciate the rare moment where he can be gentle, when time isn't ticking like a bomb in the back of his head. And a part of him is grateful that its one of those rare moments that he can share with Cas. That their first kiss isn't something frantic and fleeting.

It means he can focus on the way skin buzzes under roaming hands, or on the weight that settles against his chest. He can feel soft lips and heavy breaths, and there's something about that noise that seems to jolt right through him and settle low in his belly. And the taste that he gets when tongues first tangle, it's sweet and addicting and if he was a cheesy bastard he'd make some comparison to pie-but he's totally not. Still, there's something about the scent in the air that just vibrates with something he's come to associate as Cas that seems to blend in with all of his other senses until this whole thing feels entirely new and oh so familiar.

His own hands move now that they're free, one down to his waist to pull him closer, to instinctively seek out a heat for a chill he didn't even realize he was feeling. And the other slides through that hair without any tease or irony and he can't help the pleased sound that falls against Cas' tongue.

A part of him wants to take this further, to move to clothes and start undoing buttons, to leave a trail of kisses along that jawline, or nip at his neck. And it'd be so easy. This is something he can normally do as easily as breathing. But this is Cas and even if he wants to get dirty and biblical with him, he knows he can't go into this without words. Without some understanding of what the hell this is or what's expected when the moment's over. Because Cas is too damn important to let himself fuck this up.

But it can wait. Just...a little longer.]

[ it's funny, in a warm, good sort of way, to feel dean being so.. gentle. castiel knows full well that dean is far more kind and caring than he would ever like to outwardly admit - perhaps he knows better than anyone, for castiel has seen his soul, cradled it and protected it and torn it out of hell, seen all of dean laid bare.

but it's another thing entirely to feel dean's hands, rough and strong and callous, sliding against his back and into his hair with a careful ease, pulling him in slow and easy like a dance. he's seen dean snap necks, watched him split his knuckles open in defense, knows the strength of them, the ferocity, how much of a wild animal dean can be under the right circumstances. and even when he isn't fighting, he's always acting so tough, and castiel knows full well that it's a front, but to know that, and to experience it are two different things.

so maybe it wasn't.. so terrible an idea to come down here and talk about this in person. this might not last, but in the moment it feels so good to have dean so close, and this kiss gets easier and warmer with each passing moment as castiel grows more and more comfortable in it, is body easing and his mouth moving with more confidence. less and less he's simply parroting dean, and more and more he's exploring on his own, trailing his tongue along the back of dean's teeth, gliding it easily against dean's tongue, his right hand smoothing down and over dean's chest, beneath the warm flap of his jacket, his left rising, fingertips following the trail of a tendon in dean's throat, slow and easy like he's testing, finding how much he'll give. ]

[Anyone else, and he'd be moving towards a wall or a bed, he'd be pulling off clothes with a lecherous grin, and settling between thighs. He's got a feeling Cas would let him. Knows damn well that Cas could handle it. It's got nothing to do with how much he wants this or how much Cas could handle and everything to do with the fragile emotions that are connected to him. Sometimes he still sees virgin Cas that couldn't even get laid by a hooker. He was there to give Cas his first hang-over aspirin. It's like he's seen the bastard grow into some mostly-functioning adult right in front of his eyes.

And now. Now Cas has hard pressed against him, growing bolder with every brush of a thumb over skin or swipe of his tongue. And damn it all if he doesn't want to see this part of him too. Wants to see the way he unravels under Dean's tongue and hand and cock, to hear how low and gravelly that voice can get when he's begging and moaning, to see how eager those hands are to make a mark on his body again.

He swallows hard with those fingers on his throat and it takes every bit of willpower he has to tug on Cas's hair and pull himself back just enough to make his mouth his own again.]

Cas. [God, he forgot how much he needs to actually breathe, and his voice comes out a little raspier than he means for it to.] Just, hold on a second, man. We need to- we-we should probably talk. About this.

[ dean tugs on his hair, breaks from his kiss, but for half a second castiel is still in the moment, chin and mouth moving forward like he's searching for more, like he can't understand where dean's mouth has gone and why. it was so good. so nice. why stop?

a half-second and his eyes are fluttering open, hooded and steady, and he's looking into dean's face with a shallow crease in his brow, mild disorientation in his expression. he doesn't move his hands, keeps them still and unmoving against dean's body while he tilts his head like a quizzical bird. ]

What do we need to talk about? [ he asks, a little breathlessly, his voice a little deeper, a little rougher, but sincere. why are they stopping? bless him, but castiel can't for the life of him understand why. ] Haven't we already talked?

[God. That's adorable and he has to roll his eyes up the ceiling just to stop himself from leaning right back into it and kissing all that damn confusion away.]

That's- [And he makes a clicking noise with his tongue that feels a little numb from all the tonsil hockey.] I just wanna make sure, okay. That we can do this and still be alright. ...Right?

[Just something, Cas. He just needs some sort of response to ease the guilt he's feeling about crossing this line.]

Of course we will.

[ castiel says, bluntly, matter-of-factly, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, because if this is what dean wants.. well, it's not as if castiel could ever turn him down. he'd kept his mouth shut under the assumption that this, this thing they're doing, would never happen, that dean couldn't possibly be interested, that castiel would be ruining everything by even bringing it up at all, inserting something into their relationship that was never meant to be there.

but dean started all of this. dean kissed him. and that must mean that, on some level, this is something that he wants. ]

I'd never leave you, Dean. You have to know that.

[ because castiel might have the power to drive dean away, but that road is a one way street. castiel is devoted, always has been, enamored and loyal as a hound, and he has.. made mistakes, but his heart has never wavered. there is no force in this universe strong enough to pry him away from dean, no bribe sweet enough, no threat hard enough to ever break his allegiance. his eyes drop for a moment, thoughtfully, the hand on dean's throat falling to fold loosely against his collar. ]

What are you worried about?

[His jaw moves like he's swallowing. Because he is, swallowing words and emotions that threaten to slip out with that answer. It hits the damn nail on the head and Cas says it like its the easiest damn thing in the world to promise. And he wants to believe it. So damn bad, but pessimism and history make it hard to hope like that.]

Nothing. It's nothing. [And he works forward one of those dismissive smiles as he slides his hand out from Cas's hair to grab that hand that's settled about his collar. And for a moment he just holds it inside his own, squeezes it lightly before bringing it up to his lips to kiss his palm.

Cas is poking at a whole other issue, but one thing those words do solidify is that this won't be the thing that drives them apart. And that's enough. It has to be.]

C'mon, lose the trenchcoat and we'll take this to the bed.

[ it is easy, at least for castiel. despite how strongly he's been influenced by dean, thankfully he has yet to lose his open honesty, has never been afraid to speak his heart, can never entirely understand why dean is. loving, being hurt, talking about it - there's nothing to be ashamed of, and cas might keep his thoughts to himself more often than not, but that all stems from his fear of burdening others, not insecurity about bearing his heart. so when he's asked directly like this.. it's simple.

and it would be such an easy thing to read dean's mind, to look into his heart and know instantly what it is that he's feeling - but he doesn't. he won't. he's learned the value of privacy, respects dean too much to pry from him what he won't willingly give; truly, he's more human than angel, these days. still, he wishes dean would say more, says as much with his eyes, the way they go soft and hold steady in that infinitely understanding way, and it makes him uncertain, like something cold has dropped into his belly, like perhaps they shouldn't be doing this after all.

.. but dean's kissing his palm, and damn this weakness, but when he's sweet like this castiel can't deny him anything. so he drags his fingertips over dean's jaw, then drops both hands to do as he's asked, shrugging away his heavy coat. ]

All right, Dean. [ a beat. ] If you're sure.

[He's spent so many years scoffing at the idea of getting emotional, of sharing anything more than is necessary to their very strained well-being that he'd almost become hardened to that kind of imploring look. At least, he likes to think so. Honestly, sometimes he wants to give into it and rattle off every thought that's in his head. But he can't. Because he has to keep shit together. Because he's always has to. For his dad. For Sammy. Even for Cas. They depend on him. But he can't help but think if they knew just how much doubt and guilt and anger and pain he kept close to his heart, they would know better. It doesn't matter what Cas already knows or what he's seen, he can't bring himself to bare it all on his own whim. So it boils down to a stubbornness that has him glancing away from that inviting look.

Food, alcohol, sex, it's how he medicates himself. But that's not why he pulls Cas in close again once that coat is off. He's fine right now-as fine as he ever is. He doesn't need Cas to wipe away his anger or drown out his thoughts or remind him that he's still human. He just. Wants Cas.]

Oh, there are a whole buttload of things I'm not sure about. But you? Well, you're one of the easier things I got, Cas. [The easiest and consequently the hardest. But that's what caring about someone this much is, right?

And this time he leans in to do exactly what he imagined doing. His lips press against his jaw, his chin, down the thick cord of his neck, settle and suck at a pulse point as he works Cas' tie and shirt loose enough to nip at his clavicle, all the while slowly moving back toward the bed.]

[ it's all the answer he really needs. castiel might worry about dean, but in the end he can't force anything. dean is his own person, and well, that's what free will is all about. he doesn't push. he doesn't pry. only leaves the door open in hopes that, someday, he might take the open invitation; it's all he can do.

but dean knows what he wants, knows how to go for it and get it fast, and soon enough castiel isn't worrying about it at all anymore. dean's mouth moves hot and warm against his throat, and it's a simple enough thing but it's enough to have a shiver skating down his spine, his breath coming quickly, warmth flushing his skin. even if dean doesn't want to talk about what worries him, this is still good, it's still a connection between them, and castiel can accept that, wants that.

his head tilts to expose his throat, encouraging, while he rushes to keep pace with dean, his hands closing over the lapels of his canvas coat and urging it back over his shoulders and off, all the while shuffling back toward the bed, struggling not to trip over his own feet. ]

Good. [ he says, succinctly, because making things hard for dean? it's the last thing he could ever want. and he's done it, before, still hates himself for the mistakes he's made, for all the myriad ways he's harmed dean and sam both, but if this is good and easy - well, at least he can offer that much. castiel swallows around a dry throat, his fingertips easing beneath the hem of dean's shirt to skirt against warm skin, the backs of his knees colliding with the edge of the bed. ]

[This is so much easier, and now that some of his concerns have been put to rest, he can silence the voices in the back of his head and focus on skin and wants and action. He can add flavors and scents and textures and sounds to all of his flickering thoughts of curiosity he's had about Cas.

He can hear the thump against the bed, feel it in the way Cas's body stops and he straightens up, leaves Cas's neck so he can give Cas a push toward the horizontal. And he's gotta admit, he looks good on a bed when he isn't half-dead. So he takes a second to admire it before he's pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the side. It's a hassle he doesn't need later.

And then he's moving onto the bed and over Cas, and he doesn't even try to hide the eager smile.]

If there was ever a time for you to be selfish, Cas, it's now. You want something, just say the word. [Because he knows Cas is automatically set to altruism, but he can't imagine anything hotter than Cas asking for what he wants in bed because Dean is nothing if not a pleaser when tangling in the sheets.

And that settled, he works one handed to entirely undo the loose tie, takes his time unbuttoning his shirt and teasing himself with the slow exposure of skin, leans down to kiss a new spot that opens with every pop of a button.]

[ generally speaking, castiel isn't very caught up in appearances - not like humans are, at least. he's grown fond of his own vessel, but he doesn't experience attraction quite in the same way a human being might when looking at a pretty woman or a handsome man.

but dean is beautiful. dean has always been beautiful. on some level castiel must know that that's simply because he loves him, that dean could look like anyone and he would still think he's beautiful, but that's irrelevant. castiel's back hits the bed, and his eyes lift unerringly to dean, shameless in the way he watches him peel his shirt away, blue eyes moving over the bare expanse of his chest and abdomen. it's nothing he hasn't seen before, more times than he can count, and when you've seen a man's soul you've seen all of him - but that won't stop him looking.

or touching, for that matter, because once dean is over him again castiel's hands are lifting, more confident now, sliding up his biceps and over his collar and down the smooth, hard planes of his chest until dean is leaning too close, and he needs to run them 'round to his back instead. ]

Okay. [ he offers, unsteady for the way his breath rushes, distracted by the way dean's mouth is moving over his skin, working his shirt open like he's peeling away the skin of an orange, slow and easy and methodical. and even if he's felt all this before, it still feels new because it's dean, because it's all different, the touch of his lips is like fire, and castiel's skin jumps beneath every pass of his mouth. but he tries to remember what dean is saying. tries to think about what it is that he actually wants. ] Just.. keep touching me, please. Don't stop.

[Sometimes he forgets that the image he's come to associate with Cas isn't really Cas, that this is just a shell for the being that's fought and bled and sacrificed his way into becoming something so important to him. Right now, he's happy to forget that little fact, because this is the closest he can get to Cas. But it keeps him from murmuring soft compliments as he works his way down to those pants.

But even if this body isn't Cas, it feels like him when hands slide along his skin, because more than the sensation that prickles his skin in their wake, there's an air around them, they're familiar, and more importantly, they're safe. Their hands that have blasted away more demons than he can count, that have reached out for him, saved him. And he can sense that in every brush against skin.]

Well, that's easy enough. [Even if he pauses on his path when the shirt is entirely undone and his fingers are resting on the fly of his pants. He lets his other hand slide up the bare expanse of skin before he drags them down with just enough pressure to feel nails. Honestly, he has no idea what Cas likes, not even sure Cas really knows. So experiment is really the only way to know, and he keeps a careful eye on his reaction.]

What about my tongue, Cas? Or my mouth. You wanna feel that too? [And he presses the palm of his hand against the bulge underneath. He'll be gentle, he'll be kind, he'll try to squeeze every speck of pleasure out of Cas, but he really can't help but add a little tease to it. Or this will just be such sappy lovemaking his image may never recover.]

[ experimentation is absolutely key, because no, castiel really has no idea what he likes at all, or what he wants until the thought is right on top of him. dean's hand feels good, warm and callous sliding over bare skin, but the drag of his nails feels even better, and castiel's spine arches just so into it, a pleased sound rolling off of his tongue. it's not always easy, experiencing sensation in this vessel. everything is.. muted, like watching a screen through a filter, there's an opacity, a veil that's hard to get around. gentleness is good, sweet and sincere, but it's definitely harder to feel, harder to appreciate.

once dean's got all of his buttons undone, his mouth so low on his stomach that it's impossible not to imagine him kissing any lower, castiel feels his body tightening with anticipation and heat, the the promise of dean's mouth, especially once he's talking about it like that - ]

Yes. [ he blurts, inadvertently, his hands on the back of dean's shoulders tightening, one sliding up against his nape, and the soft, fine hairs there. the pressure of dean's palm against his cock, even through thick layers, is enough to have him tensing, hips rocking shallow, breath rushing from his lungs in an urgent huff. ] Yes, Dean. Your hands, your mouth.. everything. [ anything, everything wants to give him - castiel is too damned eager for his own good, waited too long for this. ]

[That's definitely the kind of reaction he was looking for, and he watches shamelessly as that body bows slightly for him like its instinctively begging for more. And he can't help but lick his lips in appreciation at the honesty even in his body. It's definitely something he'll come back for.

Right now he's made an offer and Cas eagerly takes it up, so he's going to make good on it. He undoes his pants and hooks his hands around the hem of them and nudges Cas's hips up so he can pull them off properly and toss them behind him, forgotten as soon as they're out of sight. Because he's got something so much more interesting in front of him, and he hums in appreciation as his hand traces the bulge under underwear and with an arched brow and smirk at Cas he bends down and mouths at his cock through cloth, licks and sucks until they're a wet mess.]

[ castiel hardly needs the prompting to obey. he's ready, the moment dean's tugging at his waistband, and his hips lift easily to facilitate it, ready to have them off. he's never felt so restricted by his clothing before, hardly even notices it at all while he's wearing it, but now it just feels heavy and tight, pulling at him incessantly.

still, even with the thin barrier of his undershorts between them, the heat of dean's mouth against his cock is enough to get his blood singing. castiel's body snaps tense, his hand sliding into dean's hair and grasping hard, his hips lifting, searching, and the tease of it is so good, but soon enough it's too much, and he's aching for more. ]

Dean. [ he says, quick and sharp as a knife, fingernails biting into dean's scalp, voice rough as crushed glass. ] Dean, please..

[He gets caught up in the act, and not just because he likes the heat on his tongue, or the scent of Cas, or the taste, but its the way that body tenses under his hands, the way those hands rake against his scalp, the heavy breathes. It's almost intoxicating all in itself. He wanted to see Cas fall apart under him, because of him, but he wasn't expecting it all to happen this quickly. Maybe he should have. Cas may have centuries on him, but in this, he's the veteran.

So he takes mercy, god, of course he does, because the way Cas says his name makes his whole body shiver and his breath hitch. There's a dangerous edge to it that he's heard him use in different situations. But as a bedroom voice? The guy could probably unmake him with that alone if he knew the right things to say.]

I got you, Cas. [He promises with a soft kiss near his navel, and he can't help but groan at the way his nails dig into his scalp, the way it tugs tight as he moves-and he almost pulls back before he remembers Cas' earlier reaction, and instead he drags his teeth across his belly even as he inches the rest of his clothes off of him.]

[ it's true - for a billion year old celestial being, he certainly is bad at being human. he's no longer a virgin, but a chance encounter or two do not an expert make, and castiel's still oversensitive, still so new to all of this that it would be embarrassing if he were to stop and think about it. add in to the mix that this is dean?

yeah. he's got no idea what he's doing, can barely remember to put one foot in front of the other.

thankfully, dean does know what he's doing, and all castiel needs to worry about is telling him yes and good and reacting when he likes something. so he lifts his hips again once dean's peeling away his undershorts, and he's wriggling his hips impatiently, trying to kick out of them before dean's even ready to get them down his legs. and all the while he's touching what he can, fingers buried in dean's hair and pressing urgently, his left hand splayed over his shoulder, pulling at his skin, feeling hard muscle move beneath his palm. the teeth are appreciated, and dean's rewarded with a sharp breath and a quick, barely gentle tug of his hair. he's taking too damned long. ]

Hurry.

[He can't help the slow chuckle that rumbles through his chest. For all the attempt at a slow build up and a burning tease and Cas is just done with it, and the impatient underwear pulling, and hair tugging, and demand and the atmosphere he was trying to build up just crumbles with it. But honestly, it feels a little better this way and he ignores the order one more time just to bounce up and kiss him quickly on the lips before he's sliding back off the bed entirely and settling on his knees. He figures if there's still enough blood running around in the angel's head he might get a little kick at the irony of the position before he's reaching out to grab Cas's hips and tug him toward the edge of the bed.

As soon as he's got him close enough, he doesn't waste another breath, simply leans down and wraps eager lips around the head of Cas's cock. And a moan bubbles in the back of his throat at the warm weight, and the taste of precum, and the smooth slick feel of that head in his mouth, and all added to the fact that he had Cas's dick in his mouth, and he damn near heady with excitement.

Just long enough to appreciate it, and he's bowing his head further, taking more of Cas into his mouth, tongue rolling over every new inch that slips past spread lips until he's got a good length settled against his tongue, and with a hum that's entirely intentional and full of vibrations, he starts to bob.]

[ castiel isn't necessarily a modest creature as far as his body is concerned - it's not really his at all, after all, though in a way, he supposes that it is, now. jimmy novak is long gone, and castiel has been raised back into this image so many times, and lingered in this skin for so long that it's slowly beginning to feel like his own.

still, human modesty is a foreign concept to him, and he's not bothered by all this skin, not bothered to be bare before dean's eyes, glad to be rid of all of that restrictive fabric, save for the shirt that still clings rumpled to his shoulders and elbows. it's enough. castiel's eyes follow dean like a cat, staring, riveted, but once feels the heat of dean's mouth around his cock it's all over.

with a throaty groan, castiel's head falls back against the bed, his body lighting up with heat and pleasure, and while dean's swallowing him down he's twisting and tensing, the hand in dean's hair tightening to an unkind fist involuntarily. it's good. warm and wet and better than anything he's ever known, already better than his previous encounters, but he'll just chalk that up to the fact that it's dean, and anything he does is always going to be better than anything or anyone else. the vibration of his hum is enough to send a spike of heat straight to his belly, and castiel's breath stutters, eyes squeezing shut. ]

That's.. [ words are hard. ]

[he has a brief moment where he wonders about an angel's stamina, angel boners in general, blast radius. Cas would warn him if was getting a gun shot to the head, that was he was sure of. But he might not even think to mention instant re-erection, or incredible duration that turns a blowjob into a marathon. But it seems a little late to ask that sort of thing now. And it adds a twist of curiosity to the whole thing that only encourages him to find out.

One hand settles on Cas's hips to still them, and his thumb rolls against the juncture between leg and torso in an attempt to settle him. He can feel the way the muscles in his thighs are tensed, can see it in the rise and fall of his chest that seems to get a little sporadic as he works him over.

He'd smile at the aborted sentence if he had the ability to, but for now he'll let his mind fill it in. He continues to move, and will never admit that he might be humming the chorus to the tune of a certain Air Supply song as he does so. But soon enough his other hand is sliding up to massage Cas' balls and the base of his cock and whatever other bit of length that Dean can't quite fit into his mouth without reaching the danger zone of his gag reflex.

Whatever it takes, he wants to see Cas fall apart around him, wants to watch him arch in pleasure, and cry out in orgasm. He just wants to make him feel good, to confirm that his desire for him, that it's warranted.]

[ to be perfectly honest, it won't take very much. castiel is sensitive and eager, restless as a kid in a candy store; he wants to try everything, taste everything, experience everything. he's reactive, easily roused, hyperaware of his vessel in ways he's never experienced, never bothered to pay any mind to.

dean's hand against his hip is likely a good restriction, because it's difficult to resist the urge to buck up, to yank dean's head down, and it's times like these that he's thankful for the little rift between grace and vessel, the split-second he's afforded while he's processing sensory input and deciding whether or not to give into the immediate impulse of this body. dean, he's sure, wouldn't appreciate being choked. but the gentle draw of dean's thumb against his skin helps, too, and castiel falls still, as still as he can manage, at least, with dean's mouth all around his cock, sucking and pulling around him, driving him out of his mind.

he doesn't bother to try to speak again, there's no point, nothing he can say with words that he can't say with his body, all the tension in his belly and the way his thighs strain, the way his breath hitches fast and hard, his hand in dean's hair tight, fingernails biting sharply. castiel groans low and deep, his left calf sliding flush to dean's side and up until he's got his leg hooked over dean's bare shoulder, skin on skin, and the added squeeze of his fingers and palm is just what he hadn't known he needed.

it would be an easy thing to extend his stamina, to dampen the sensations he's feeling in order to draw this out, but for now he isn't bothering, he's riding the natural high that his vessel has to offer, moaning soft and arching tight as the pleasure climbs, quick and sure, an irresistible heat beginning to pool in his belly. ]

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