heavenonearth | angels with crushes are always problematic

[He's tense and still, hand still on Cas' leg, the other wrapping around his cock so he can guide himself in. And he knows he could take it, Cas would be fine, and the invitation is there in the way his thighs fall even further apart for him. But he waits.

And god is he glad he waited. There's that smolder in Cas' eyes that has heat spreading through his chest, makes his features soften even as the rest of him is coiled tight and hard. Then the words tumble out, low and gravelly and he swears he can almost feel the rumble of his voice skate over his skin.

And it's all he has, the tease he's purposely built this encounter into, the restraint, the control-he can't play with it anymore. And he can feel his grasp on it all crumble as he sinks into Cas, inch by inch it undoes him, tears at him and leaves him raw by the time he settles fully inside him.

There's a tremble that starts at his shoulders, rolls all the way down his spine caused by the connection between their bodies. Sure, it's tight and hot and slick, but that's every hole. It's a piece of comfort, a piece of pleasure, it's like a strong drink or a good burger. That bit he expects. It's the familiarity, the sense of home that shocks him to the core.

And if anything it only lures him further in, has him crawling up Cas, settling low on his elbows, chests and faces only separated by a sheet of air. And then he's rolling his hips forward, instinctively seeking that angle that he's mapped out in his mind, and his lips smash into Cas'. And there's no chasteness, not even a sexual hunger, it's more need that he'll never admit to.]

[ it's slow and easy, a deep slide that pulls at his insides in a way he's never before experienced, a sensation wholly new and bracing in a way that makes his entire body tense and snap in all the best ways. ]

Dean - [ he breathes, abortive and tight, and once dean bottoms out inside of him he groans, deep and guttural, both thighs pressing in tightly to dean's sides to keep him close, as close as he can, and with his arms around dean's shoulders he's holding to him greedily, like a venus fly trap snapping tight around its prey.

the physicality of it is enough, it's good, but even better than that is the intimacy, the connection, the way he can feel dean against him, inside of him, all of dean pulling at him and tugging at his very core, and the heat of his mouth is exquisite and intoxicating, all of it together overwhelming. there's a familiarity and a nostalgia to this that makes him wonder why they ever waited so long to do this, like they were created for this, two halves of a broken whole coming together to form something so warm and good and irresistibly right that he can hardly bear the feel of it.

with one hand splayed between dean's shoulderblades, he lifts the other up and into dean's hair, seizing at it with a nearly desperate grip, his mouth falling open easily, taking dean's kiss, and all of the need in it, and consuming it whole, accepting it, giving it back in its entirety. he has never wanted anything more, never needed anything more, and all the thoughts of the world outside of these walls have faded away, castiel's entire world narrowed to dean, the weight of his body, the deep slide of his cock, the taste of his tongue. ]

[Losing himself has never felt like this before. He seeks it out, these moments where the memories melt and the thoughts stop and the future doesn't matter. But with Cas breathing his name like a prayer and clinging to him like he's the only thing anchoring him to this world, and kissing him in a way that seems to suck him empty and fill him whole at the same time, he doesn't feel lost at all. He feels found. It rips a sound from his chest that he can't identify, soft and small, but there for Cas to swallow along with the rest of him.

His hips roll up into that inviting heat without ever losing the grip Cas's legs have on him, he just pulls him with him, rocks him back into the mattress in an easy rhythm. His hands ball into the sheets near Cas's shoulders, all his weight resting on his forearms. His back ripples with movement, a languid arch with each roll forward that has that hand between his shoulder blades scratching down his back and neck.

And the dance only speeds up once he finds that rhythm to move to, body aching to finish even if the rest of him would happily settle in Cas all day. But it hasn't forgotten as physical need and want seeks out hard friction, takes pleasure and gives the slap of hips and the nudge of cock against prostate in return. It makes him breath heavily through his nose, makes fingers shred sheets, and makes his eyes squeeze shut as each thrust pulls him a little closer to the edge.]

[ 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.

[It's all too easy to give into those demands, a part of him has wanted something harder this whole time anyway, and with Cas' blessing, the leash snaps.

He pauses just long enough to shift his position, untangling hands from ripped sheets to bring his arms up to fold up on Cas' chest as his hands slide to grab his shoulders, fingers digging in roughly. And then he starts to move again, hips hard rocks forward that jerk Cas' body right along with them, but then his hands are there, dragging him back down when physics would otherwise have him pulling away, forcing that body to take the full force of each thrust that makes the bed squeak. And their bodies are pressed so closely together that it's impossible to ignore the persistent hardness digging into his abdomen, hot and dripping and caught up in the rough friction.

His eyes open again, but there's not much thought in them, nothing but the primal need to fuck and take and claim. His moans, low and dark, stay caught behind clenched teeth.

There's the drag of nails on his back and his shoulders roll back into the rough press, the slight burn of it adding a new layer to the pleasure that's already twisted and knotted low and hot in his gut, that has his dick pulsing and his balls drawn up tight. And all those signs should have him expecting it, the orgasm he's kept at bay up until this point, but it hits him like a fist to the gut that has him bowing forward, head falling heavy against Cas' chest, and there's not a damn thought in his head when his lips brush across warm and flushed skin and he bites even as he moans and jerks and his body snaps tight as he pulses and spills inside Cas.]

[ good, good, that's it, that's what he's looking for. the hard, relentless thrust of dean's cock snaps right through the numbness, and castiel groans hard, his body unfurling from around dean's to better feel it. he doesn't have to think anymore, doesn't have to worry or fuss about what to do, his vessel points the way with bright neon signs and castiel need only follow the road, senseless and needy. his thighs spread wide, heels digging hard into the mattress for leverage, his hands peel away to grasp hard in the sheets for stability, and soon his entire perspective has narrowed to the brutal slide of dean's cock, the wet, obscene in and out that sinks into his gut and unravels his mind.

castiel's breath comes fast and ragged, each exhale a whine or a hard, twisting groan, his expression screwed up tight with eyes shut against everything, all the world is sensation, rough and primal and savage and it's all tangling up hot in his belly like the molten mantle of the earth, driving him like hellhounds snapping unrelenting at his heels.

by the time dean comes, castiel is not quite there but he's so close, and the hot, slick spill inside of him is filthy and irresistible, stuffing him full and gratifying him in a way he'd never known he'd needed. a shiver ripples up his spine, and castiel twists in desperation, wrenching an arm down between their bodies to get a hand on his cock, his hips bucking erratic and mindless, fucking up into the tight circle of his hand and down onto the wet, shameless slide of dean's cock. the hard bite of teeth to flushed, sensitive skin, and dean's low animal moan are so good - it hardly takes a few more irregular snaps of his hips before castiel is tumbling right after him.

with a sharp inhale, his belly heaves and he comes, thick and sticky between their bodies, his free hand twisting in the sheets, his entire body pulled tight as a bowstring. with his head tossed back and his jaw slack, there's a brief moment where he makes no sound at all, only holds in his breath before it all releases in a wild, satisfied moan. it's sublime. coming to the wet heat of dean's mouth was amazing, but this is on another level entirely, it shakes him to the core, drives needles under his skin, explodes in white-hot light behind his eyes that blinds him to any other thought, pushing everything else away for that one, blissful moment. ]

[He's mildly aware of the hand between them, the erratic jerks and the rolls against his cock as Cas takes care of himself. He would love to help, would insist on being the one to help, if his arms didn't feel like jelly, if the world wasn't an ocean of colors behind his eyelids. The continued sensations get a nearly unconscious moan from him, burning and intense in his post-orgasmic haze.

But then he settles, and heat washes over his stomach and he hums at the sensation, somewhere under it all glad that Cas is taken care of. But that's all the focus he gives the moment. This, this part where he's all beating heart and pulsing blood and low breaths and nothing else, it's the cream and the cherry on top of mind-blowing sex and he'll cling to it greedily until he can't anymore.

But until then he's limp and easy on top of Cas, curling into his warmth and inhaling his scent and listening to the tune of his beating heart. And it's good. God, it's good.]

[ castiel is not too terribly far behind him.

the intensity passes, bleeding out of him quickly, and he's left panting and overheated, filthy all over, slick with dean's come and his own and with sweat that clings like a sticky veil. his hair feels damp and his lungs burn and there's an ache inside of him that's deep but gratifying. he's spent, fully, entirely, wrung out and scoured from the inside.

falling slack, castiel's sticky hand drops to the sheets, the other lifting to slide onto dean's shoulder and hold there, but past that he does not bother to move at all, sinks back into the damp sheets with his head turned aside and his eyes closed, labored breathing beginning to steady out, slowly but surely, against the pillow. it's a good feeling, satisfying somewhere far below the surface, and there's a thrumming in his blood and in his grace that licks at his insides, slow and soothing, making his body loose and languid, and his mind a cottony blur. dean is heavy against him, and too hot, but right now he doesn't mind it, likes the closeness, the raw intimacy, isn't willing to give it up just yet. ]

[It never matters what he does or doesn't do, eventually the feeling fades and he's left with the messy reality. The awkward disengage, the excuse he needs to use to leave, the mess he needs to clean up before he gets back to Sammy. But that's not what he has with Cas. He's right where he's supposed to be, with someone who understands him on a level that sometimes scares the hell out of him, and he doesn't care about the mess.

Instead it's just heat and that familiar messy hair and the ache of their activities that tugs and pulls muscles in all the right ways.

He knows this body is just a vessel, but he's still aware he's bigger, heavier, and he slides off of him and onto his side where he grins lazily at Cas.]

See. Talking in person was a good idea.

[ once dean is off of him castiel immediately misses the contact, but is grateful for the relief nonetheless, and he inhales deeply, exhales in a slow, fulfilled sigh; he's relatively sure he's never felt so content in his long life. the sound of dean's voice has him at last opening his eyes again, and turning his head just enough to look at him, offering an only slightly petulant frown. ]

.. I suppose.

[ he says curtly, but he's too relaxed to really put any bite behind it. ]

I hope you're satisfied.

[Oh good. Things are back to mostly normal then. And it settles the small flutter in his chest and lets the rest of his fears settle. For now anyway. If Cas starts smiting the occasional one night stand, he might have to come back to this.]

Mmm. Well. Mostly. [He hums playfully, shifting entirely onto his back, one arm sliding behind his head while the other one quietly worms its way under Cas's shoulders, a quiet extension to prolong this contact that really really doesn't need to be put into words.]

[ castiel's not entirely expecting the offer of dean's arm. he's not sure what to expect at all, to be honest. to be treated like one of dean's throwaway girls, probably, for this to end and become just one more thing that they don't speak about. so when he feels the arm snake beneath him, he hesitates for a moment, surprised, then turns into it right away, stealing up close to dean and pressing to his side. his free hand (the clean one) comes to rest against his chest.

but he's still frowning. ]

Mostly?

[He waits for Cas to react before he brings him arm up tighter around him. He's not as experienced in this part, but he can remember his time with Lisa. It's not the same buzz that he gets from sex, the brief bliss that comes right after, but it's calm. And sometimes that's just as important to him. Another thing he's willing to share with Cas.

He turns his attention toward the ceiling though, grinning lightly at that question.]

I haven't gotten that list of adjectives yet.

[ oh for heavens sake - he rolls his eyes. ]

I provided you with plenty.

[ however much of a brat dean might be, however, he isn't budging, even if he's tilting his head against the pillow enough to deliver an even, withering stare. his thumb still moves in idle patterns against dean's warm, bare skin. ]

[He chuckles at that look and figures if those fingers can still be gentle he's not in all that much trouble, so he tilts his head enough so that he can kiss Cas on the forehead.]

Then the game continues. [And yes, he does have to add the cheesy wink to the end.]

[ that cheesy wink certainly doesn't win him any favors. castiel simply sighs, placated by the warm press of dean's mouth to his forehead. he doesn't sleep, but his eyes slip shut anyway, and despite the uncomfortable mess of cooling come and sweat he's.. content. relaxed. his voice is a rough murmur. ]

Egotistic.

[ooc: Good place to call it done?]

[ ooc; sounds great. thank so much, i had a blast! ]

[ooc: Anytime. It was a lot of fun and your Cas is awesome. Feel free to poke me if you ever want to do something else.]

[ ooc; you got it, and the same goes for you! i joined a game recently so i might be a little more scarce, but i like to cruise bakerstreet a lot, so i'll keep an eye out. ]

[ooc: Oh, have fun! And Dean is still really new for me (and I'm still playing catch up in canon) so not quite ready to throw up top comments, but i'll happily hit you up if I see something.]

[ ooc; i sure will! and fair enough, though you're doing great so far, i had a great time! c: i'll definitely pop into memes here and there when i can, or if you want to do anything specifically don't hesitate to pm me or shoot me a plurk, if you've got one. ]

[ooc: Thank you! And that sounds fun. I don't have many ideas at the moment, (except they should definitely try the rougher spectrum of sex sometime). But plurk works great for future plotting, if you want to add me, feel free

rubberbandaid]

[ ooc; haha fair enough, though i'm totally down for the bleedy scratchy furniture-breaking smut for sure. i went ahead and added you! ]

[ooc: I saw! And yes, good. Shouldn't be too hard to conjure up a situation where they feel like throwing each other across the room.]

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heavenonearth - 2016-01-21 02:50 (UTC) - Expand