![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielInterior
Dean/Castiel
NC-17
1000
Post-season four.
It was a very slow day at the library on Thursday, so this was written on company time. Scandalous! Thanks go to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ginnith for her help in the decision making process. Holla in the Impala! ;)
It's cramped in the backseat of the Impala, no way for two grown men to really get comfortable. That's not going to stop Dean from trying. It's not comfort he's after anyway.
No, not comfort.
Pressed together in tight quarters, clothes pinching and pulling because he can’t be bothered to do more than unfasten a few buttons, lower a zipper, in his haste to get to Castiel’s skin.
The Impala’s parked in the farthest corner of the parking lot, a short stop—a quick break from everything out there—before they return to Sam. There are bags of food sitting forgotten on the front seat, growing cold.
A streetlight stands nearby, close enough that it lights the interior of the car, making them both look pale and drawn. Dean knows that standing in the lot you can hear it hum, electricity buzzing through. Occasionally it’s accompanied by a TV turned up too loud in one of the motel rooms, thin walls barely managing to separate their occupants and the things that go bump in the night. Dean knows the parking lot smells like gasoline and deli food, the scent drifting over the asphalt from the gas station across the street. In the air he can practically feel the grit of the road, of the fight, of survival and exhaustion on his skin.
But inside, face tucked hard against the curve of Castiel's throat, all Dean can smell is the two of them and the lingering tang of gunpowder. All he can taste is Castiel’s skin sharp-sweet against his tongue as stubble scrapes against stubble. Their breathing filling the space between them and around them until Dean knows nothing else but the ebb and flow of the air in and out of their lungs as he licks and nips and takes.
Tie flung over his shoulder, shirt pushed up toward his chest, Castiel's cock is hot in Dean's hand as he groans and writhes against him, looking for friction, for something. For more. He's wrecked and glorious, tax accountant garb wrinkled, mouth open and red, kiss-bruised. Feathers ruffled, Dean thinks, if only he could see them. If they’re even still there.
That exterior hid more than might but still less than Dean realized. Who knew angels—who knew Dean's angel—could be so wanton? And he is Dean's angel, of that Dean is sure. They may both deny it, but they've been through too much, broken down too many barriers and crossed too many lines to be anything but the other's. The proof is there on Dean's skin.
And while Castiel himself isn't marked by Dean—not outwardly anyway, not in any way that Dean can see—the fact that he's there with Dean walking the earth, fighting the good fight, risking the fall...That's all the proof Dean needs.
The fact that he's with Dean in the backseat of the Impala? That’s just icing.
So Dean mouths against Castiel’s skin, sucks at the base of his throat, marks him as best he can until Castiel reaches for him, fingers slipping against the back of Dean’s head, nails scratching through his hair, against the grain.
Dean groans, licks at the mark he’s just left where tie and collar might reach, and shifts until his own dick, still trapped in the confines of his jeans, is pressed against Cas' hip.
Castiel twists his neck, turns his head, mouth seeking as he breathes Dean’s name into the night. Dean kisses him for all he’s worth, messy and desperate as his hand slips over Cas’ cock again and again until Castiel’s mouth falls open and he shudders, grasping and gasping as he comes over Dean’s hand and their clothing.
Dean hides his face in the crook of Cas’ neck—the niche that seems created just for him, just for this, a dark safe place away from everything—and moves against Castiel until he’s coming, too, Cas’ name on his lips muffled.
He’s going to regret the fact that he just came in his pants, but Dean can’t quite bring himself to care. In the grand scheme of things, that’s nothing. Sticky and uncomfortable, yeah, but nothing.
And it’s enough, it’s almost enough, the two of them twisted on the seat until they fit in the confined space. It’s not perfect, but it’s good. It’s something. Even if Dean isn’t quite sure how to define it yet.
Castiel watches him from under drooping eyelids as Dean wipes his hand on Cas’ shirt. Dean watches him back and thinks of all the skin he hasn’t touched yet, all of the things he doesn’t know about this being who’s thrown his lot in with them.
Cas’ hand is still at the back of his neck, holding steady. Dean feels the weight of it, and the warmth, rests his head against Castiel’s and just breathes.
After a moment, Cas’ voice breaks the silence settling around them. “The food is getting cold, Dean.”
Dean wants to laugh at the complete and utter normality of that statement. Instead, he tips his chin forward, finds Castiel’s mouth without looking. “Yeah,” he says. “We should head back.”
“Sam will be wondering where we are.”
“We’ll tell him you ate all the fries and we had to go back.” Cas’ breath comes out in an amused huff against Dean’s lips. Pulling back, Dean grimaces at the cooling wetness in his pants. Castiel rights himself in the confines of the backseat. The end result is still pretty disheveled, which does nothing to make Dean’s hands stop itching to touch.
He does the next best thing, reaching out to move Cas’ tie back into place, lets his fingers linger over the material. Looking down at himself and over at Dean, Castiel sighs. “He will suspect,” he says, and Dean’s sure it’s in concern for Dean and his issues, his image, his relationship with his brother and the rest of the world.
“If he asks, then we’ll tell him,” Dean says. “We’re all in this together now.”
Dean/Castiel
NC-17
1000
Post-season four.
It was a very slow day at the library on Thursday, so this was written on company time. Scandalous! Thanks go to
ginnith for her help in the decision making process. Holla in the Impala! ;)It's cramped in the backseat of the Impala, no way for two grown men to really get comfortable. That's not going to stop Dean from trying. It's not comfort he's after anyway.
No, not comfort.
Pressed together in tight quarters, clothes pinching and pulling because he can’t be bothered to do more than unfasten a few buttons, lower a zipper, in his haste to get to Castiel’s skin.
The Impala’s parked in the farthest corner of the parking lot, a short stop—a quick break from everything out there—before they return to Sam. There are bags of food sitting forgotten on the front seat, growing cold.
A streetlight stands nearby, close enough that it lights the interior of the car, making them both look pale and drawn. Dean knows that standing in the lot you can hear it hum, electricity buzzing through. Occasionally it’s accompanied by a TV turned up too loud in one of the motel rooms, thin walls barely managing to separate their occupants and the things that go bump in the night. Dean knows the parking lot smells like gasoline and deli food, the scent drifting over the asphalt from the gas station across the street. In the air he can practically feel the grit of the road, of the fight, of survival and exhaustion on his skin.
But inside, face tucked hard against the curve of Castiel's throat, all Dean can smell is the two of them and the lingering tang of gunpowder. All he can taste is Castiel’s skin sharp-sweet against his tongue as stubble scrapes against stubble. Their breathing filling the space between them and around them until Dean knows nothing else but the ebb and flow of the air in and out of their lungs as he licks and nips and takes.
Tie flung over his shoulder, shirt pushed up toward his chest, Castiel's cock is hot in Dean's hand as he groans and writhes against him, looking for friction, for something. For more. He's wrecked and glorious, tax accountant garb wrinkled, mouth open and red, kiss-bruised. Feathers ruffled, Dean thinks, if only he could see them. If they’re even still there.
That exterior hid more than might but still less than Dean realized. Who knew angels—who knew Dean's angel—could be so wanton? And he is Dean's angel, of that Dean is sure. They may both deny it, but they've been through too much, broken down too many barriers and crossed too many lines to be anything but the other's. The proof is there on Dean's skin.
And while Castiel himself isn't marked by Dean—not outwardly anyway, not in any way that Dean can see—the fact that he's there with Dean walking the earth, fighting the good fight, risking the fall...That's all the proof Dean needs.
The fact that he's with Dean in the backseat of the Impala? That’s just icing.
So Dean mouths against Castiel’s skin, sucks at the base of his throat, marks him as best he can until Castiel reaches for him, fingers slipping against the back of Dean’s head, nails scratching through his hair, against the grain.
Dean groans, licks at the mark he’s just left where tie and collar might reach, and shifts until his own dick, still trapped in the confines of his jeans, is pressed against Cas' hip.
Castiel twists his neck, turns his head, mouth seeking as he breathes Dean’s name into the night. Dean kisses him for all he’s worth, messy and desperate as his hand slips over Cas’ cock again and again until Castiel’s mouth falls open and he shudders, grasping and gasping as he comes over Dean’s hand and their clothing.
Dean hides his face in the crook of Cas’ neck—the niche that seems created just for him, just for this, a dark safe place away from everything—and moves against Castiel until he’s coming, too, Cas’ name on his lips muffled.
He’s going to regret the fact that he just came in his pants, but Dean can’t quite bring himself to care. In the grand scheme of things, that’s nothing. Sticky and uncomfortable, yeah, but nothing.
And it’s enough, it’s almost enough, the two of them twisted on the seat until they fit in the confined space. It’s not perfect, but it’s good. It’s something. Even if Dean isn’t quite sure how to define it yet.
Castiel watches him from under drooping eyelids as Dean wipes his hand on Cas’ shirt. Dean watches him back and thinks of all the skin he hasn’t touched yet, all of the things he doesn’t know about this being who’s thrown his lot in with them.
Cas’ hand is still at the back of his neck, holding steady. Dean feels the weight of it, and the warmth, rests his head against Castiel’s and just breathes.
After a moment, Cas’ voice breaks the silence settling around them. “The food is getting cold, Dean.”
Dean wants to laugh at the complete and utter normality of that statement. Instead, he tips his chin forward, finds Castiel’s mouth without looking. “Yeah,” he says. “We should head back.”
“Sam will be wondering where we are.”
“We’ll tell him you ate all the fries and we had to go back.” Cas’ breath comes out in an amused huff against Dean’s lips. Pulling back, Dean grimaces at the cooling wetness in his pants. Castiel rights himself in the confines of the backseat. The end result is still pretty disheveled, which does nothing to make Dean’s hands stop itching to touch.
He does the next best thing, reaching out to move Cas’ tie back into place, lets his fingers linger over the material. Looking down at himself and over at Dean, Castiel sighs. “He will suspect,” he says, and Dean’s sure it’s in concern for Dean and his issues, his image, his relationship with his brother and the rest of the world.
“If he asks, then we’ll tell him,” Dean says. “We’re all in this together now.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 05:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 05:36 am (UTC)Great job!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 06:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 06:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 06:31 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 06:32 am (UTC)And besides, disheveled Cas in the backseat of the Impala? Best. Image. Ever. Nnnngh, I'll be in my bunk.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 09:09 am (UTC)It was so vivid I feel like I remember seeing it.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 10:35 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 03:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 05:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 06:20 pm (UTC)Made me all happy and warm inside :)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 10:49 pm (UTC)*happy sounds* I love that, Dean kind of trying to figure out what they are, but not managing, just knowing it's good, whatever it is. Lovely ficlet!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 11:20 pm (UTC)"That exterior hid more than might but still less than Dean realized. Who knew angels—who knew Dean's angel—could be so wanton? And he is Dean's angel, of that Dean is sure. They may both deny it, but they've been through too much, broken down too many barriers and crossed too many lines to be anything but the other's. The proof is there on Dean's skin.
And while Castiel himself isn't marked by Dean—not outwardly anyway, not in any way that Dean can see—the fact that he's there with Dean walking the earth, fighting the good fight, risking the fall...That's all the proof Dean needs."
- *asplodes* So incredibly hot! I'm practically drooling all over my self here xD Everything about the marking...GUH!
"“If he asks, then we’ll tell him,” Dean says. “We’re all in this together now.”"
- *flails* Are you a NIN fan!??! Such an EPIC closing line!
*memories*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 11:23 pm (UTC)- FUCK YES! That's got to be the most delicious image ever!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 11:25 pm (UTC)Laura.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-01 07:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-02 04:37 pm (UTC)There's something so delicate yet real about Dean fixing Castiel's tie.
I really loved this, thanks for sharing!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:03 am (UTC)It's a good one, isn't it? ;)
Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:09 am (UTC)Disheveled Cas is a good image, isn't it? I'm appreciating it more and more post-fic. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:15 am (UTC)I'm really pleased the last line worked. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:16 am (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:17 am (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:17 am (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:30 am (UTC)The NIN thing was totally an accident since I don't know a lot of their music. But I've looked the song up now and, yeah, completely appropriate.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 12:39 am (UTC)I'm so happy you liked this, thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-03 04:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-21 05:02 pm (UTC)I loved the little part about Dean sort of hiding in Castiel's neck and how that spot was made for him. Very great fic^^
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-22 02:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-28 04:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-29 05:03 am (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-04-01 01:36 am (UTC)This? That was even hotter than the sex.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-04-03 07:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-04 04:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-05 02:17 am (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-02 08:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-24 11:53 pm (UTC)