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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[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. ]

[He'd be happy to be Cas's sexual sherpa, but that would be more than a one-time sort of situation, and that's a talk they haven't had yet. That he's not going to dwell on until this one is over. It's so much easier to think in the moment. He's good at thinking about point A to B, even better when he can drive on instinct alone. And he's settled on that at the moment. There's no plan here beyond making this good, in getting to explore this body, in showing Cas his own devotion in ways he's not scared of showing. Something about the physicality of it all makes it easier for him to show just how much he cares, makes it easier to put the mask down for a moment, to push all that negativity to the side.

Hell, he'd drop his hands down to his sides and let Cas fuck his throat if he expressed enough interest in the idea. His gag reflex is still functional, but he's got no problem choking on Cas if the guy can even find an inkling of pleasure in the act. But at the moment, he's not sure the act wouldn't have Cas coming to a halt to make sure he was okay. And he doesn't want to break this. He's enjoying this moment, the view he's got of rippling muscles and breaths and even the shift of that throat stretched out. It's not Cas' body, but that doesn't stop him from being attracted to it, but those reactions? Those are his, makes them all that much more important to catch.

The scramble for more skin contact with the way that leg settles easily over his shoulder, heel pressing firmly into his back. That's all Cas. The hand rough in his hair. The groan that echoes in the room. It's all so heavy with the impression of his angel.

His hand squeezes Cas's hip in encouragement, signs of impending orgasm all human enough that he thinks he's reading it right, and then he lets go of those hips, lets his hand rake down the inside of the inside of that exposed leg, from knee to the curve of an ass cheek and back again as he tries to lure Cas closer to that edge.]

[ dean doesn't let up. there's no pause to recover, no brief respite for him to catch his breath or ease the pleasure, and castiel thinks to clamp down on it, to close his mind to the sensation so he doesn't finish, so that they can keep going, so that they can try something else, everything else, but in the end he doesn't bother. chances are, this is just the way that dean prefers it, unadulterated, unaltered, pure and human and simple, and in this way he's relinquishing control to dean, allowing dean to pull him as he chooses, to decide how much pleasure he gets and when. he'll do this the human way, because if he doesn't, what's the point? sex is a human instinct, a human privilege, so if he doesn't experience this like they do, he's doing both himself, and dean, a disservice.

so castiel lets go. he shuts out all other thought beyond the necessary feeling of dean's mouth and how good it feels, how it makes his belly twist in a way that's savage and exquisite both, the heat building so quickly and suddenly that he can't hope to handle it, and it runs out of control like sand through his fingers, impossible to hold. closer and closer he rides, and castiel doesn't bother to disguise his reactions, the way his body twists and his breath comes faster and faster, ribs straining beneath muscle and sinew and smooth, flushed skin, his heel digging hard into dean's spine like a spike pinning him down.

when dean's blunt fingernails rake hard down the thin skin of his thigh, castiel can't help the sound he makes, guttural and rough as sandpaper, nerve endings singing, his fingernails hooking brutally in dean's scalp. he's close, so close, he knows it, recognizes it for what it is. ]

Dean I'm - I'm gonna - Dean --

[ it's about all the warning dean will get; it he doesn't move away, castiel can't hold back, he's fit to burst, doesn't want to hold back. he's coming either way, into dean's mouth, or against his chin and neck, his fingers, whatever's there, and it's intense but it's thankfully very human. that doesn't stop him, however, from bucking hard, spine bending and body snapping tense as a string, a low, satisfied groan twisting deep in his throat. ]

[It's easy to forget about his own erection with the tunnel like focus he has on Cas and his, but it's there, a constant pressure against his blue jeans. There's a dull pulsing that flares with a twist in his gut when Cas arches or when a gravelly noise falls from his mouth, but it's been simple enough to ignore. After all his mind is busy and his mouth is full and his hands are touching and rolling and scratching. There's not much attention to give them. Just like he can't give those touches the attention they need, the fingers that have likely made several crescent shaped indents on his scalp or the ache that it leaves behind, but the unconscious still reacts to it. His heart beats a little faster, his own breathing comes in heavy puffs out of his nose, and adrenaline buzzes through his body. But its the way that heel digs into his spine, it aches in a way he can't entirely ignore, puts a pressure on him that instinctively makes him want to buck against it just to prove he can get away if he needs to-and its the conscious effort to not pull away, to let Cas pin him in his pleasure that makes his dick jerk hard enough that he can't fully ignore it. Has his eyes momentarily fluttering shut and moaning.

The warning makes it through the heart beat he can hear echoing in his ears, and his eyes shoot open to drink in the sight, and he latches on tight to Cas's cock until he feels it pulse, until the first splash of cum hits his tongue, and then he lets him go, prefers to watch the way his whole body arches up, cock bobbing with the action in a way that has him transfixed.

And its not until his back settles back against the bed that he leans down and takes him into his mouth again, cleans what's dribbled down his head and balls before sucking him into his mouth just to get that last taste. There's some still lingering on his fingers that are a gentle cradle on his balls now, and he can feel it trickle down the his cheeks, but his attention isn't on anything other than Cas and the occasional twitch of his cock that he can't block out anymore.

He pulls back satisfied and grins up at Cas.] This is one of those occasionally awesome times, right?

[ it rips over him like an ocean wave, hot pleasure drowning him, filling him, and for a sweet, fleeting moment there's nothing but this feeling, warm bliss drowning out everything, every thought, every worry and concern. he can understand it, why dean medicated himself with this, why he chases it so hard, because in this moment nothing can hurt you, in this moment you are not even yourself, there is only heat, and satisfaction, and peace.

but it passes too quickly, and castiel soon settles back against the rumpled covers, his skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat. he feels used up, scoured clean, filthy in the best sort of way, and when dean leans in to suck his cock clean it's almost too much, too sensitive, and he jerks with warm, rolling aftershocks that leap like arcs of electricity over his body and straight to his cock. he can't complain.

the cotton soon clears from his mind, however, and castiel feels the cool touch of guilt sinking into his belly like a stone. he'd had such grand plans, you know, of giving dean everything, touching him and kissing him and bringing him pleasure but he'd gotten tangled up so easily, spent himself without even getting a hand in dean's pants. it's nothing a little grace couldn't fix, but - that's hardly the point.

with great effort, castiel heaves himself up to his elbows, his breathing still labored, but slowing, and the hand in dean's hair drops to his nape, pulling gently, though when he speaks his voice is low and dark with command. ]

Come here.

[Oh. Well. That's hot. Cas, breathless and sweating and spent, but there's still so much power and authority in that order, and his dick jumps at it, eager to obey even if Dean's slower to move. He moves his hands away from Cas, brings his hand up to his mouth to lick off the cum that's dribbled there before bringing it up to brush at his cheek, not to clean so much as to brush at the tickle there.

And then. Then he's moving off his knees and climbing up the bed and Cas's legs until he's on all fours above Cas.]

Here. [He answers smartly with a smirk, definitely curious what to see what Cas has got planned here.]

[ to be honest, for once, castiel has no plan, and that's a little bit terrifying, but he trusts dean, he wants this, and they'll figure it out. right now, all castiel wants is to dig into him, to find a way to give something back. but first, he's tugging dean down to kiss his mouth, and for all their kisses earlier had been chaste, then deeper, but slow and warm and learning, this one is hard, slow in a way that's hot like molten stone. confident and easy. he can taste the flavor of his cock and come on dean's tongue, and it's thrilling for how new it is, and all the implication that comes with it. when he pulls back, castiel's thumb glides beside dean's mouth, swiping the stray bead of come there before pressing it into dean's mouth, the pad of his thumb gliding smooth against dean's tongue, his blue eyes rapt and watchful with a quiet, curious hunger.

this isn't what he wants, though. even on his back, with dean's weight above him, castiel easily has enough strength to buck him off, to flip him over onto his back and climb astride him, his oxford shirt still clinging to his elbows and trailing loose, ignored, forgotten. ]

I want to make you feel good, Dean.

[ he says openly, eyes slanted down to dean's face while his hands work quickly, unfastening dean's belt and unbuttoning his jeans, pulling down the fly and curling both hands around the waistband of his jeans and underpants both and jerking hard, releasing his dick. clearly, castiel doesn't intend to be patient, not this time, not while he's so ready to learn, eager to give back. his eyes trail shamelessly down dean's body, to the hard, flushed length of his cock and back up again before he's wasting no time getting a hand on him, feeling him, palming the warm underside and thumbing the wet tip of his cockhead. it's too soon for castiel to be aroused again without the intervention of his grace, but he's flushed anyway, his breath quick and his eyes bright for how much he wants to do this, how excited, and ready he is. ]

Tell me what feels good.

[Now that's the kind of kiss that makes his brain short-circuit and his thoughts stop, the kind he can lean into while everything around him fades to background noise, where nothing more exists than the hand on the back of his head and the lips against his own and the tongue that's stealing every flavor from his mouth. And it's seriously not fair how quickly Cas has picked up those skills. He's fairly sure he sucked for months when he first started kissing. Movies and campy television shows were terrible inspiration for what worked as an actual kiss. But it's his turn to go a little slack-jawed when Cas pulls back, dazed enough that he doesn't flinch when Cas is wiping at the side of his mouth and then feeding him his come.

And he lets out a shaky breath as that finger rolls against his tongue, the brush of his finger making it tingle in a way he doesn't even know how to itch. And then it's gone too soon, and he only gets a light kiss at the digit before it's gone. That look though, that dark cool look in blue eyes, it lingers in his mind's eye even when it's gone, has his heart beating hard in his chest.

He's already feeling a little ungrounded under Cas's intense attention, that he's not even surprised when he winds up on his back, the disorientation playing into the lightheadedness he feels at the moment. And he makes an appreciative noise when Cas announces his vague plans. That sounds good enough to him.

His breath hitches when his pants are pulled down with an impatient force and his cock hits the air for the first time that night, and suddenly it's hard to ignore just how eagerly hard it is, and it already has his breathing a little shallow.

And he physically jerks with that first touch, scalding and intense, after being so pointedly ignored.]

Uuuh. [He swallows thickly and works a suddenly dry mouth to answer.] Well, that-this feels pretty good.

[And even if he could form a full sexy scenario, he wouldn't share it. Not right now, not when he wouldn't know if what he asked Cas to do would be something he'd actually be interested in or just an attempt to return a favor that-honestly, he doesn't have to return. Dean enjoyed every second he had Cas under him.]

[ it's a shame that castiel isn't reading dean's mind, because there's nothing he wouldn't give to dean, nothing he wouldn't be interested in, and sure, he'd be returning the favor alongside it, but isn't that what this is all about? give, and take. that's how sex works, isn't it? that's how relationships work. castiel has sacrificed for these boys again and again, will continue to sacrifice for them always, knows they will try their best to do the same. give and take. he'd see no reason why that shouldn't apply here, as well.

but he can work with dean. try to read him as best he can, try to make him feel good even if he doesn't know how, or where to begin beyond touching him like this, or using his mouth like dean had done before.

it's good, though, to see dean like this, and he supposes it's good that he's already spent because his attention is focused solely on dean now, he isn't distracted by his own vessel, its wants and needs. and it would be a lie to say that he wasn't nervous, that he's sorely afraid of messing this up, of not knowing what to do - getting dean's clothes off, that's the easy, simple part, all the rest is dark, unexplored waters. but he trusts dean. he trusts this, their connection, and how clear it is that, at least in this moment, dean wants him just as badly as castiel had wanted dean in return.

so he can do this. or at least, he will try, and if he messes up, dean will tell him how to be better. so for now he keeps his hand working, teeth biting into his lower lip while his fingers close warm around dean's cock, pulling in slow, easy, deep strokes. this much he remembers, at least. this much is simple. and since he's not using his free hand, he drops that one to dean's cock, too, making a cage of his fingers to squeeze him with, watching dean through hooded eyes and dark lashes for any response, any indication that this is right, and okay. ]

I've never done this before. [ he admits, while his thumbs circle the ridge of dean's cockhead, tracing it, teasing. ]

[Sex works on a serious level of consent. And he knows, he knows he could utter just about anything and Cas would eagerly try it. Because there's nothing Cas wouldn't do for him. This wouldn't be any different. And as charming as that is, and comforting, sometimes its a power that he knows he takes advantage of, but this is different. It's not to save someone, it's not to stop some big bad asshole, it's just for his pleasure. And that makes all the difference when asking and taking. He's not good at doing it.

Even now, it's a little unnerving to have all of Cas's rather intense attention focused entirely on him, on making him feel good, and it strips his bare in a way that has nothing to do with the lack of clothes.

His breaths feel like they come out in built-up gusts, constantly sucking in breaths and gasping in conflict with normal breathing that keeps him from every really gaining air. But it's hard to focus on asinine things like breathing when he's got Cas so focused on his cock. It should be simple. It's a hand and a cock, and he can't count how many times a week he does that. But it's not that simple The knot deep in his gut has nothing to do with friction and everything with to do with the angel attached to that hand.

He takes the effort to kick his pants off entirely because it hinders the way he wants to bend his knee, or the way he wants to dig his heels into the mattress when Cas is suddenly two handing him, grip suffocating in a strangely pleasurable way.

And his fingers twitch at his side restlessly before they're moving, before they're reaching for arms or shoulders to touch, or the back of Cas's head so he can at least pull him down and kiss him, so he can give a little bit back.]

It's good. [He's quick to confirm, and his tongue flicks out against his lip as he debates adding something else, as the urge to ask for something more bubbles up inside him. But the words don't come.]

[ dean reacts well beneath him, his breath hitching and his body responding, and when dean's hands climb up him to move over his skin and pull him down close castiel is happy to oblige, because for all the things he has tried, kissing is his favorite. and maybe it's just kissing dean, but it feels so good in a way that's got nothing to do with sex, a way that's warm and wet and soft, close and intimate. it's the connection that runs between them like an electric current, that he feels when dean's mouth is against his own, feels like he feels his own grace roiling inside of him, like he can feel the heat and vibrancy of dean's soul.

so it's good, this kissing, and he likes the way dean's cock feels in his hands, the weight of it, the irresistible heat, how smooth and silky the skin feels. he likes how he can feel dean's need every time it twitches, likes that it's making dean feel good, even if it might not be as good as dean's mouth was on him, even if he might be clumsy and new. that much, he hopes, he can make up for with his eagerness, and how willing he is to learn.

but something doesn't feel right, there's a distance that shouldn't be there, like a piece of the puzzle isn't fitting in right, and castiel worries that he's doing something wrong. dean's been with so many people, done so many things, castiel's uncertain fumbling must be frustrating. ]

Do you want my mouth? [ he asks, breathing the words against dean's mouth, both hands tightening around the root of dean's cock, fingers laced as he pulls easy to the tip, then down again. he's already kissing a path along his jaw even as the words finish, mimicking the way dean had done it to him before, breathing hot against his throat and closing his mouth over his rapid pulse. ] Please, Dean, let me make you feel good. I want to. I need to.

[There's nothing frustrating about the way Cas moves his hands, explores his cock, even if there's a flicker of a moment where it's not the smoothest thing. It could be the worst damn handjob in the world and Dean would still find the whole thing hot. Because there's so much effort and concentration and he knows how much Cas is trying to please him. The fact that it's good only adds more to it, and his hips roll into that tight enclosure he's made with his hands.

And he eagerly takes Cas's mouth. Loves how sweet the man is. How hungry he is. How right it feels to be intimate like this with him. And he has to stop himself from whining when Cas breaks it to talk.

And that question, god, it has his hips stuttering as his arousal spikes. It's not even a matter of liking the idea, it's just hearing Cas talk like that.

There's something about those particular words that makes something click into place and has his eyes widening slightly. Maybe he's been looking at this all wrong. Like asking for anything would be taking advantage of Cas's very nature. But Cas is a big boy-sometimes- and maybe it's all just some service kink. Makes sense. Angel and all that. And, it's enough to cling to at the moment, because he does want more.]

I wanna feel you around me, Cas. I wanna be inside you. [The words come out rushed, like if he doesn't say them right this second he might not be able to. And he jerks his eyes to Cas's, looking for any sign of apprehension at the idea.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject