SPN Fic: Proving It, Dean/Castiel (NC-17)
Nov. 14th, 2009 10:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielProving It
Dean/Castiel
NC-17
4767
General spoilers for season five. Nothing specific. Though there is a very brief allusion to 5.04, "The End."
Dean needs proof. Castiel gives it to him.
A first-time fic. Minimal plot. There was a scene in my head and this is my attempt to put it to paper. There is a very good chance the summary does not mean what you think it means. Though there is an equally good chance it means exactly what you think it means. ;)
Many, many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ginnith and sdrohc_ratiug. You ladies are so patient with me. I don't know what I'd do without you. ♥
If you asked Dean how he ended up pinned to the wall by an angel recently exiled from Heaven, sporting a hard on instead of a black eye, he honestly wouldn’t be able to tell you.
He’s very aware that he’s not anywhere close to having the answers. His life is pretty fucking weird.
However, he does know that Cas feels really good pressed up against him, all superhuman strength and righteous anger.
Unfortunately, Dean can’t really remember what they were fighting about, not with the majority of his blood suddenly heading south. He just knows that they were arguing about…something and Dean had maybe—maybe—stepped out of their unspoken bounds a little too much. Cas had reacted, pushing Dean against the wall, hard enough to make Dean’s back twinge but apparently not hard enough to discourage other parts from sitting up and taking notice.
Sam, who had been right behind them, had taken one look at the scene in front of him and taken off. “Why don’t you guys find me when you’re finished,” he’d said. Dean had barely registered him leaving, his attention sharply focused on Castiel.
Back hard against the wall, Dean groans. He can’t help it. Cas blinks at him, face going from angry to concerned in no time at all. Like no matter how pissed Dean makes him, how frustrated and disappointed, Cas would never actually hurt him.
“Dean, are you—?”
Dean stops him with his mouth, grabbing Cas and pulling him forward. It’s awkward and messy and hardly a kiss at all really, not at first. Not with Cas caught off-guard and off-balance and Dean’s mind caught in a haze of too much feeling and not enough thought.
Cas doesn’t kiss him back and when he pulls away, Dean lets him go, disappointment a lump in his throat.
Cas doesn’t go far, though, leaning back enough to see Dean’s face, catch his eye. There’s a beat where Dean has enough time to think that this is all so monumentally stupid and embarrassing—maybe they deserve to be destroyed after all—and then Cas tilts his head and is on him, pressing him back against the wall.
Chest to chest and thighs to thighs, Dean can feel Cas’ cock through the layers between them, can feel him hardening in response to Deans own renewed erection.
Dean grunts against him in surprise, hips pushing forward while Castiel kisses him like the world is ending. He’s breathless by the time Cas releases him, has trouble finding his voice as Cas’ hands bracket his hips, fingers digging into his jeans. Cas’ face is pressed against the curve of his neck, each hot breath a further distraction. He’s not sure when they got there, but his own fingers are buried in Cas’ hair, twisted in the fabric of his coat.
“Cas,” he finally manages. ”Cas, tell me this isn’t just me.”
Cas pulls back again, his face disbelieving this time, confused. “You are filled with too much doubt, Dean,” he says, rocking his hips deliberately against Dean’s.
Dean gasps, fingers gripping a little tighter. “Yeah,” he concedes. “Way too much doubt.”
Cas doesn’t look away. Dean feels pinned, unable to do anything as Cas lets go of his hips and removes Dean’s hand from his hair, fingers wrapped tight around Dean’s wrist. He moves slowly, carefully. He doesn’t need to; Dean’s not going to pull away. He’s not going to push Cas in the opposite direction. They’ve been there, done that. It’s time to stop.
“Let me prove it to you,” Cas says. Dean knows what Cas is going to do right before he does it, settling Dean’s hand over the bulge in his pants.
Castiel is hard beneath his hand, hot through the layers of clothing, making Dean’s palms itch for more, for everything. For skin and Castiel and this, right here right now.
“Okay,” Dean says, swallowing hard as he cups Castiel, molding his fingers around the length of him. “That’s a pretty good start.”
Castiel’s breath hitches, his hand covering Dean’s where it’s pressed against him. He holds him in place, palm warm and dry, calloused and rough against Dean’s skin. Dean can’t help but wonder what those hands will feel like on him, touching him, moving him where Cas wants him. Giving and taking pleasure. Skin against skin. Those fingers slipping inside him as Cas…
He doesn’t notice when Cas leans in to kiss him again, mouth deliberate and sharp against his own. “Dean,” Cas says, voice barely betraying the fact that his dick is hard and practically in Dean’s hand. “Pay attention.”
Dean shudders at his tone and thinks that after this there is no way he’s going to be able to fight demons or Lucifer or anyone with Cas around, not when he uses that voice.
He licks his lips, chasing the lingering taste of Castiel’s mouth with the tip of his tongue. “Sorry,” he says, though he really isn’t. Loosening his grip on Cas’ coat, he smoothes the material out with one hand, briefly pressing down on Cas’ dick with the other. “You have my full attention, I swear.”
“Good.” Cas smiles, lips curving upward with approval. There’s something in it that reminds Dean of that time in Bobby’s kitchen, back when he didn’t know Cas so well; when Cas was still Castiel, this dangerous, wild being that could do whatever he pleased as far as Dean knew. He forgets sometimes that, wings half-clipped or not, Castiel is still dangerous and wild and able to do just about whatever he pleases. Dean is surprisingly okay with that now.
Cas moves enough to shrug out of his coat and jacket. He tosses them toward Sam’s bed, reaches up to loosen his tie more before slipping it over his head. It’s the first time Dean has seen Castiel in anything less than the whole ensemble. In the stark white shirt, black trousers, tie dangling from his fingers, Cas looks strangely naked. Dean wants to laugh; he’s seen women showing the same amount of skin Cas is hiding and never felt this hot.
“Dean?” Cas says, voice breaking into his thoughts.
“Yeah, sorry,” he says, swallowing. He can feel the tips of his ears heat up. “Just a little distracted is all. It’s not every day you get an angel stripping in your room.”
“I hope not.” The look on Cas’ face is fierce, possessive. Dean flashes back to Anna’s kiss right before Alastair and his goons made an appearance. He’d thought the look on Cas’ face was confusion or curiosity, maybe Cas’ patience wearing thin. With this new information, Dean thinks he knows better now.
“Here,” he says, stepping forward and taking Cas’ tie from his hand, tossing it toward the bed. “Let me help you.” He tugs Cas forward by his hips and kisses him, a promise of more to come, before using his grip for balance as he goes to his knees, fingers working Cas’ belt open. He presses against the bulge at the front of Cas’ pants, noses and mouths at Cas, breathes him in and feels his heat before pulling back enough to unfasten them.
Cas pulls his rumpled shirttails out of the way as Dean works Cas’ pants and underwear down far enough to get to his cock. He leans in—almost close enough to touch, close enough to taste—and pauses, looking up. Castiel is watching him, wide-eyed and staring. His lips are red and wet and tempting and Dean regrets that they’re too far away for him to kiss, but he’s got other, more pressing matters at hand.
Literally, he thinks, licking his lips and wrapping a hand around the base of Castiel’s cock. He feels the weight of him, hot and real, and thinks, Oh yeah, this is going to be good, before he leans forward, taking the head into his mouth and sucking.
Castiel jerks against him, a sound that resembles Dean’s name escaping his mouth. He drops a hand to rest against Dean’s cheek. Not holding or pushing, but resting. A connection that apparently they both need as Dean tilts his head into it and looks up at him, Cas’ thumb stroking high on his cheek. Cas’ other hand is still pressed against his belly, keeping his shirt out of the way.
For some reason, it’s that detail, the sight of that more than Cas’ eyes on him, that makes Dean realize that Castiel is watching him. And not just in the curious, You humans confound me, kind of way like he usually does, but watching him because Dean is on his knees to bring him pleasure. He wants to see this just as much as Dean does. Wants to watch just as much as Dean wants to give. There’s not just curiosity behind those eyes; there’s want and desire and need…and…and…Dean closes his eyes against it, groaning as he presses the heel of his free hand against his own dick still trapped in his jeans.
Cas groans in response to the vibration, his hand sliding from Dean’s cheek to his hair, holding him in place before pulling away.
“Cas?” Dean starts, disappointed until he looks up and sees the heat in Cas’ eyes
“Enough, Dean,” Cas says, pulling Dean’s hand away from him. Dean wants to complain, wants to argue that there is no way on Earth that it’s enough. He doesn’t get the chance as Cas fists Dean’s shirt in his hands and pulls him to his feet. Dean stumbles backwards as Cas presses him against the wall and kisses him, deep and dirty and oh so fucking good.
There is no doubt in his mind that Cas wants this, no when Cas is doing his best to lick the back of Dean’s teeth. Dean grips his hips, hands finding skin where his undone pants have slid down, and yanks forward until Cas is flush against him, bare cock rubbing against the front of his jeans. It makes Cas moan, biting Dean’s lip in surprise before he pulls away, eyes dark and dilated, mouth swollen. He’s breathing heavily and it shocks Dean what the sight of Cas desperate and panting and human does to him, human but still completely himself.
“What do you want, Dean?” He looks nervous standing there, for the first time unsure. Dean had forgotten, in the heat of the moment, that for all he seems to be, Castiel isn’t experienced in this.
Dean grins and kisses him, nips at his lips before soothing his tongue over them as he slips his hand back to Cas’ cock where it’s pressed so enticingly against him. “This,” he says, squeezing gently as Cas’ warm breath stutters across his lips. “You.” He presses a kiss to the corner of Cas’ mouth. “Me.” He follows it up with one high on Cas’ cheek. “Naked,” he adds, breath whispering across Cas’ ear when he leans in to press a kiss to the skin underneath. He feels Cas’ breath fast against his neck before he pulls away and thinks, Oh yeah, this is my game now.
Turns out Cas has other plans.
Cas’ hands on him are impatient, tugging at clothing as Dean attempts to get Cas’ shirt undone. He’s already half undressed, his pants open, by the time he gets the shirt halfway unbuttoned. In his defense, they’re small buttons. Plus, Cas keeps getting in the way. The fingers he traces along Dean’s collarbones, over his nipples, across his ribs, they’re damn distracting. Dean tells him as much.
The smile Cas shoots him is small but knowing. Dean shudders. “I thought this was what you wanted.” He doesn’t sound blank or confused; he sounds like he’s teasing. Dean feels himself flush, surprised he can manage it with how much blood is currently occupying his dick.
“Oh, it is,” he says, fumbling with the buttons as Cas presses his mouth against Dean’s neck, lips against his pulse as Dean fumbles at his shirt. “It really is. But these…goddamned…This is why I never bother with the buttons.”
Cas pulls back, stilling Dean’s hand with his own. “Yes, you are very wise, Dean,” he says, reaching over his shoulder and pulling the shirt up over his head in one even motion.
Dean would be surprised at how smooth the move is, except Cas’ hands get stuck in the cuffs. He can’t help but laugh at the look of frustration that crosses Cas’ face.
“Here,” Dean says, reaching for him. “Let me.”
He gets the cuffs undone and as soon as the shirt’s out of the way, Cas’ hands are back on him, like he can’t stay away. Dean knows the feeling; he can’t keep his own hands off the smooth, pale skin before him.
Cas arches into him, moving with Dean; his body responsive, his touch generous. Dean can’t figure out why they never did this before, why he ever thought the pull between them was going to lead to anything other than this. Why he thought it could be ignored.
Cas’ hands slide across his skin, around his torso until they’re resting at the small of his back. His hands are wide and hot, making Dean feel lit up from the inside as they stroke his skin. One hand descends farther, sneaking beneath the waistband of his jeans, the elastic of his shorts to palm his ass and, like a switch being flipped, Dean knows exactly what he wants.
“Cas,” he says, voice rough when he breaks away. “Cas, please. You have to—I want—” He swallows as Cas’ hand moves, the tips of his fingers slipping between his cheeks.
Cas looks at him with infinite patience, eyelids heavy as he waits for Dean to tell him.
“Fuck me,” Dean growls, Cas’ fingers brushing against his hole. “Yeah. Fuck me. Please, Cas, just—Can you?”
Cas’ hands disappear. Dean’s about to demand an explanation when Cas works Dean’s pants down his hips until they’re at his thighs. One hand wrapping firmly around Dean’s cock, Cas looks up at him through his lashes. ”Tell me what to do, Dean, and I will.”
Cas’ hand on his dick feels incredible, hot and perfect, and Dean has to force himself to focus. “The bed,” he says. “We should—” Suddenly Dean’s on his back on the bed, blinking up at the water-stained ceiling, scratchy motel comforter against his skin as Cas removes his boots and socks, finishes tugging his pants down his legs before tossing them out of the way. Dean watches him slip out of the rest of his clothing until he’s naked, too.
“You don’t seem to need that much instruction,” Dean can’t help but tease, leaning up on his elbows to better appreciate the sight before him.
Cas blushes and looks down at himself. It would be the sweetest thing Dean’s ever seen if it wasn’t also ridiculously hot. “I may be new to this, Dean,” Cas says, looking up and meeting his eyes again. “But I was not born yesterday.”
Dean huffs a laugh, fiddling with a loose thread on the comforter. “You’re right,” he says. “It’s just, uh, a little hard to remember that sometimes.” Cas’ eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. Dean leans on one elbow and waves a hand between them. “Uh, not that you aren’t a big, scary angel who could smite me where I lie. Just, y’know, sometimes you’re…I already told you not to change, Cas. I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Cas doesn’t move, so Dean flops back on the bed, arm covering his eyes. “There’s lube and condoms in my bag.”
When he hears Cas rummaging through his things, Dean uncovers his face and rolls off the bed. He pulls back the comforter to reveal the worn white sheets below. He doesn’t want that comforter anywhere near his naked ass when this happens, thank you. Head against the pillows, he looks up to find Cas beside the bed, lube and condom in hand.
Cas sets the condom on the nightstand. The lube he keeps in hand as he settles himself between Dean’s knees, and then he’s hovering over Dean, smooth and crazy-haired and kissing him.
Dean fists his hands in Cas’ hair and rises to meet him.
Cas’ hand glides down his chest to stroke Dean’s cock before moving to his balls, fitting them in the cradle of his palm before retreating. Dean whimpers against his mouth and pulls away. “Hey, you were on a pretty good path there, why’d you stop?”
Dean lets him go as he sits back and Cas hands him the lube. “It is my understanding that these things…work better with the proper preparation.”
Dean flips the bottle open and takes Cas’ hand in his, pouring some onto his fingers. “There,” he says, letting go. “Now you’re properly prepared to do some proper preparation.”
Cas looks at his fingers with curiosity, rubbing them slowly together. Dean drops the bottle beside him and wraps a hand around Cas’ wrist. Cas turns his attention on him as Dean guides Cas’ hand between his legs. This time when Cas touches him, his fingers are lube-slick, pressing against Dean’s opening smooth and sure.
Dean gasps, letting go of Cas’ wrist as his head falls back against the pillows. “Fuck, where did you learn this anyway?”
“I learn quickly, Dean,” Cas says, running his fingers over and around. “And I have all of creation at my disposal.”
Dean chuckles beneath him, the sound turning into a groan as he lets his thighs fall open more. “You were curious, weren’t you? After the—?”
“Den of iniquity?” Cas supplies, an eyebrow quirking up. Dean licks his lips, nodding. “Yes, Dean, I was curious. But not so innocent then as you believed.”
“Yeah,” Dean laughs, breathless and wanting. “I’m figuring that out.” He squirms beneath Cas, looking for more. Cas pulls his hands away.
“Turn over, Dean,” Castiel commands and there is no way Dean’s not going to obey, not here, not now.
He grumbles a little for show which doesn’t really work as he can’t fight the grin that wants to escape. Turning onto his side, Dean pulls himself up on his hands and knees. When he looks over his shoulder, Cas is behind him, watching him with dark eyes. Dean knows he’s hot, but it does wonders for his ego to now he’s got Castiel looking at him like that. He wiggles his ass a little, flexes, can’t help but show off. “C’mon, Cas,” he taunts. “This is an interactive sport.”
Cas’ forehead creases as his hands smooth across Dean’s hips. He moves forward until the outside of his knees press against the sweaty inside curves of Dean’s own. “I thought we had been interacting.”
Dean rocks backward against him, feels Cas’ cock against his ass. “There could be more.”
Cas leans over Dean until he’s pressed against Dean’s back, close enough for his voice to curl low in Dean’s ear. “Perhaps you should be careful what you ask for.”
That voice, that fucking voice, goes all the way to Dean’s dick. “Fuck,” Dean says. “I hope so.”
Warmth suddenly gone, Dean looks over his shoulder to see Cas slicking up his fingers. Cas drops the lube beside him, one hand on Dean’s hip holding him steady as he begins to work his fingers inside of him, pressing and sliding, stretching Dean around them. Dean rocks against his fingers, enjoying the pressure, the sound of lubed skin against skin. Every time he moves, Cas is right there, always where Dean needs him, wants him. Like he knows exactly where and how fast. Hell, Dean thinks, he probably does.
It’s uncomfortable at first. It usually is and Dean hasn’t done this in, well, awhile. But Cas is careful and Dean trusts him.
Thankfully, the discomfort doesn’t last for long. Dean can feel sparks of pleasure along his spine, working from the inside out as Cas touches him, finds that spot inside that makes everything else melt away.
Dean balances his weight on one hand and grabs the condom Cas dropped on the night stand. He rips the package open with his teeth, twisting his torso around to hand it to Cas. “I’m good, Cas. Believe me, I’m really good. Now how about the main event?”
Cas’ eyes grow darker as his fingers slide out wetly. Dean misses them immediately, but he knows he won’t for long. He wishes he were at a better angle to watch Castiel prepare himself, to see his lube-slick hand on his own cock before he slips the condom on. Maybe next time, Dean thinks. Maybe next time he’ll help.
Twisting back around, Dean resettles his weight on both hands as Cas knees closer, the head of his cock pressing against Dean’s entrance. One hand grips Dean’s hip as Cas pushes forward, guiding with his other hand until the head of his cock is in. Dean whimpers low in his throat and feels Cas’ hand come up to sit low on his back, rubbing soothing circles that trail heat behind.
“Dean?” Cas asks, pausing when Dean drops his head down between his braced arms. “Are you—?”
Dean tries to push back, but Cas holds him steady. With his head bent like this, he’s got a good view of his own dick, blood-red and hard enough to pound nails. He shifts his weight to reach for it, but Cas’ hand leaves his back to stop him. “You’re driving me crazy here, Cas,” he pants.
“No more than you have done to me.” Dean can feel the strength in that grip on his arm, the one on his hip.
“Great, we drive each other crazy. Now can you plea—Oh fuck.”
Dean’s face almost hits the pillow when Cas’ hips snap forward.
Cas fucks him smoothly; no stuttering or hesitation, just long, firm thrusts that Dean feels everywhere. It’s all he can do to hang on, to plant his hands and knees and not end up face first against the headboard. Cas is hot against him, inside him, hands slipping on Dean’s sweat-slick skin, seeking purchase on his hips.
Dean feels like he’s burning up, like his skin can no longer contain him. Like there’s more there than he realized and he never—he never knew until Castiel came along and broke him open.
He can hear Cas breathing heavily behind him, the sound too far away. “Cas,” he says. Dean presses one hand to the headboard, palm slipping against the cheap wood, and turns his head. Cas is wild-eyed, focused completely on Dean. “Cas, I want. I want—”
“Tell me, Dean. Tell me what you want.”
“More.”
Hands urge Dean to follow as Cas kneels backwards, sitting back on his heels. Dean goes with the movement, lets Cas move him until he’s in Cas’ lap. Dean’s hips twitch and he groans at the change of angle. He has to take a moment to find his balance again, astride Cas’ thighs. Cas’ arm across his chest helps as Cas presses them together, front to back, thighs to thighs, cock throbbing inside of him.
Dean holds on to Cas’ forearm with one hand, presses the other over Cas’ hand still gripping his hip.
Like this, Cas’ face is right beside his. Dean thinks that next time—next time—they are doing this face to face. He feels Cas’ breath across his skin, the movement of Cas’ lips against his ear as Cas says, “I have given you everything, and still you ask for more.”
“I can’t help it. I’m selfish,” Dean says, moving his hips in a slow circle. He smirks when Cas’ breath catches in his chest.
Cas rubs across a nipple with his thumb, flicks back across it with his nail. “So am I.”
Cas’ arm flexes beneath his palm as Cas flattens his hand against Dean’s chest, pulling Dean in more snugly as his hips begin to move again, his cock a slow drag in and out that threatens to drive Dean just that much crazier as he picks up the pace.
Dean moves with him, revels in the feel of Cas deep within him, all around him, the sweaty stick and slide of their skin.
“Dean,” Cas moans. “Dean, you are—are—” He pulls his hand from Dean’s hip, wrapping it around Dean’s cock and pulling. Dean writhes with pleasure, caught between Cas’ cock and his hand. “Dean,” Cas breathes, pressing his face against the side of Dean’s, lips moving against the curve of his jaw. “Fuck.”
Dean feels the word on his skin, in his bones; it’s like a spark to gunpowder. Groaning, he comes, long and hard, the tension that’s been coiling inside of him since Cas pinned him to the wall finally releasing as Cas brings him off.
Cas’ hips stutter beneath Dean and he turns his face into Dean’s shoulder, coming with Dean’s name on his lips.
It’s too much to keep balanced after that. Dean has just enough presence of mind to keep them from ending up in a bruised tangle of limbs on the floor next to the bed. With a little help, he lets gravity do its thing, falling forward with Cas against the sheets. He lays there for a moment, cataloguing the feel of his body as he catches his breath. There’s a dull ache in his knees which he finds really depressing, but other than that he feels really fucking good. Thanks to a good fucking, he thinks, grinning into the pillow.
Cas is draped over his back, a comforting weight against his skin, dick softening inside of him. Dean shudders at the feel. If they had more time, maybe they could stay like this. Go again.
Shifting against him, Cas drops a kiss to the curve of Dean’s shoulder before pulling away, pulling out. Dean resists the urge to reach for him and ask him not to move, to stay right where he is.
Cas drops the condom in the trash tucked under the night stand before settling on his side next to Dean, hand resting low on Dean’s back. He seems tense, which is odd all things considered.
Dean folds his arms on top of his pillow and looks at Cas across the white expanse, mind fumbling through an orgasmic fog to figure out what might be wrong. He stretches, feeling the burn of well-used muscle, and can’t help but grin. Cas relaxes beside him and, oh. That was easy.
“Not bad for our first time, huh?” Dean smirks.
“No,” Cas answers, shaking his head. “Though…”
“What? Don’t tell me that wasn’t awesome because that, that was…”
“Awesome, yes,” Cas agrees. He looks amused. “Though I think practice would not go amiss. I may not have proven how much I want this.”
Dean laughs, making Castiel blush. Levering himself up on an elbow, Dean reaches out to Cas with one hand. He runs his fingers across Cas’ slightly frowning brow, cups his cheek. “Oh, I think you proved yourself plenty. But we are definitely doing that again,” he says, leaning in to kiss Cas’ parted lips. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”
Cas nods, forehead pressing against Dean’s. He licks his lips and Dean feels the movement against his own. “Yes.”
“Good.” Dean leans in again, one kiss turning to two, to three. Five before he can pull away. “Unfortunately, that’ll have to wait. We need to go find Sam, grab dinner.” It’s a damn shame they have to wait, that they can’t do anything more right now. But Sam’s out there waiting after making himself scarce and lunch seems forever ago.
Dean looks down at both of them, sticky with sweat and lube and come. “I’ve got an idea,” he says, shifting himself onto his knees. He climbs off the bed and heads for the bathroom. At the door, he turns around. “Well? You coming?”
Cas eyes him from across the room, forehead creased in confusion, but he slides to the side of the bed and stands. “Coming where?”
Dean leers. “The shower,” he says, visions of Cas wet and naked and slick with soap already distracting him. “We can’t go out like this and we don’t want to keep Sam waiting, right?”
There’s a glint in Cas’ eye as he gets closer. “And you suggest we share?”
“Sure,” Dean grins. “It’ll save time. And water.”
“It would be more efficient.”
“Exactly. And we could fit in some more, y’know, practice.”
“I’m glad we are on the same page, Dean.”
Yeah, Dean thinks, so am I.
Dean/Castiel
NC-17
4767
General spoilers for season five. Nothing specific. Though there is a very brief allusion to 5.04, "The End."
Dean needs proof. Castiel gives it to him.
A first-time fic. Minimal plot. There was a scene in my head and this is my attempt to put it to paper. There is a very good chance the summary does not mean what you think it means. Though there is an equally good chance it means exactly what you think it means. ;)
Many, many thanks to
ginnith and sdrohc_ratiug. You ladies are so patient with me. I don't know what I'd do without you. ♥If you asked Dean how he ended up pinned to the wall by an angel recently exiled from Heaven, sporting a hard on instead of a black eye, he honestly wouldn’t be able to tell you.
He’s very aware that he’s not anywhere close to having the answers. His life is pretty fucking weird.
However, he does know that Cas feels really good pressed up against him, all superhuman strength and righteous anger.
Unfortunately, Dean can’t really remember what they were fighting about, not with the majority of his blood suddenly heading south. He just knows that they were arguing about…something and Dean had maybe—maybe—stepped out of their unspoken bounds a little too much. Cas had reacted, pushing Dean against the wall, hard enough to make Dean’s back twinge but apparently not hard enough to discourage other parts from sitting up and taking notice.
Sam, who had been right behind them, had taken one look at the scene in front of him and taken off. “Why don’t you guys find me when you’re finished,” he’d said. Dean had barely registered him leaving, his attention sharply focused on Castiel.
Back hard against the wall, Dean groans. He can’t help it. Cas blinks at him, face going from angry to concerned in no time at all. Like no matter how pissed Dean makes him, how frustrated and disappointed, Cas would never actually hurt him.
“Dean, are you—?”
Dean stops him with his mouth, grabbing Cas and pulling him forward. It’s awkward and messy and hardly a kiss at all really, not at first. Not with Cas caught off-guard and off-balance and Dean’s mind caught in a haze of too much feeling and not enough thought.
Cas doesn’t kiss him back and when he pulls away, Dean lets him go, disappointment a lump in his throat.
Cas doesn’t go far, though, leaning back enough to see Dean’s face, catch his eye. There’s a beat where Dean has enough time to think that this is all so monumentally stupid and embarrassing—maybe they deserve to be destroyed after all—and then Cas tilts his head and is on him, pressing him back against the wall.
Chest to chest and thighs to thighs, Dean can feel Cas’ cock through the layers between them, can feel him hardening in response to Deans own renewed erection.
Dean grunts against him in surprise, hips pushing forward while Castiel kisses him like the world is ending. He’s breathless by the time Cas releases him, has trouble finding his voice as Cas’ hands bracket his hips, fingers digging into his jeans. Cas’ face is pressed against the curve of his neck, each hot breath a further distraction. He’s not sure when they got there, but his own fingers are buried in Cas’ hair, twisted in the fabric of his coat.
“Cas,” he finally manages. ”Cas, tell me this isn’t just me.”
Cas pulls back again, his face disbelieving this time, confused. “You are filled with too much doubt, Dean,” he says, rocking his hips deliberately against Dean’s.
Dean gasps, fingers gripping a little tighter. “Yeah,” he concedes. “Way too much doubt.”
Cas doesn’t look away. Dean feels pinned, unable to do anything as Cas lets go of his hips and removes Dean’s hand from his hair, fingers wrapped tight around Dean’s wrist. He moves slowly, carefully. He doesn’t need to; Dean’s not going to pull away. He’s not going to push Cas in the opposite direction. They’ve been there, done that. It’s time to stop.
“Let me prove it to you,” Cas says. Dean knows what Cas is going to do right before he does it, settling Dean’s hand over the bulge in his pants.
Castiel is hard beneath his hand, hot through the layers of clothing, making Dean’s palms itch for more, for everything. For skin and Castiel and this, right here right now.
“Okay,” Dean says, swallowing hard as he cups Castiel, molding his fingers around the length of him. “That’s a pretty good start.”
Castiel’s breath hitches, his hand covering Dean’s where it’s pressed against him. He holds him in place, palm warm and dry, calloused and rough against Dean’s skin. Dean can’t help but wonder what those hands will feel like on him, touching him, moving him where Cas wants him. Giving and taking pleasure. Skin against skin. Those fingers slipping inside him as Cas…
He doesn’t notice when Cas leans in to kiss him again, mouth deliberate and sharp against his own. “Dean,” Cas says, voice barely betraying the fact that his dick is hard and practically in Dean’s hand. “Pay attention.”
Dean shudders at his tone and thinks that after this there is no way he’s going to be able to fight demons or Lucifer or anyone with Cas around, not when he uses that voice.
He licks his lips, chasing the lingering taste of Castiel’s mouth with the tip of his tongue. “Sorry,” he says, though he really isn’t. Loosening his grip on Cas’ coat, he smoothes the material out with one hand, briefly pressing down on Cas’ dick with the other. “You have my full attention, I swear.”
“Good.” Cas smiles, lips curving upward with approval. There’s something in it that reminds Dean of that time in Bobby’s kitchen, back when he didn’t know Cas so well; when Cas was still Castiel, this dangerous, wild being that could do whatever he pleased as far as Dean knew. He forgets sometimes that, wings half-clipped or not, Castiel is still dangerous and wild and able to do just about whatever he pleases. Dean is surprisingly okay with that now.
Cas moves enough to shrug out of his coat and jacket. He tosses them toward Sam’s bed, reaches up to loosen his tie more before slipping it over his head. It’s the first time Dean has seen Castiel in anything less than the whole ensemble. In the stark white shirt, black trousers, tie dangling from his fingers, Cas looks strangely naked. Dean wants to laugh; he’s seen women showing the same amount of skin Cas is hiding and never felt this hot.
“Dean?” Cas says, voice breaking into his thoughts.
“Yeah, sorry,” he says, swallowing. He can feel the tips of his ears heat up. “Just a little distracted is all. It’s not every day you get an angel stripping in your room.”
“I hope not.” The look on Cas’ face is fierce, possessive. Dean flashes back to Anna’s kiss right before Alastair and his goons made an appearance. He’d thought the look on Cas’ face was confusion or curiosity, maybe Cas’ patience wearing thin. With this new information, Dean thinks he knows better now.
“Here,” he says, stepping forward and taking Cas’ tie from his hand, tossing it toward the bed. “Let me help you.” He tugs Cas forward by his hips and kisses him, a promise of more to come, before using his grip for balance as he goes to his knees, fingers working Cas’ belt open. He presses against the bulge at the front of Cas’ pants, noses and mouths at Cas, breathes him in and feels his heat before pulling back enough to unfasten them.
Cas pulls his rumpled shirttails out of the way as Dean works Cas’ pants and underwear down far enough to get to his cock. He leans in—almost close enough to touch, close enough to taste—and pauses, looking up. Castiel is watching him, wide-eyed and staring. His lips are red and wet and tempting and Dean regrets that they’re too far away for him to kiss, but he’s got other, more pressing matters at hand.
Literally, he thinks, licking his lips and wrapping a hand around the base of Castiel’s cock. He feels the weight of him, hot and real, and thinks, Oh yeah, this is going to be good, before he leans forward, taking the head into his mouth and sucking.
Castiel jerks against him, a sound that resembles Dean’s name escaping his mouth. He drops a hand to rest against Dean’s cheek. Not holding or pushing, but resting. A connection that apparently they both need as Dean tilts his head into it and looks up at him, Cas’ thumb stroking high on his cheek. Cas’ other hand is still pressed against his belly, keeping his shirt out of the way.
For some reason, it’s that detail, the sight of that more than Cas’ eyes on him, that makes Dean realize that Castiel is watching him. And not just in the curious, You humans confound me, kind of way like he usually does, but watching him because Dean is on his knees to bring him pleasure. He wants to see this just as much as Dean does. Wants to watch just as much as Dean wants to give. There’s not just curiosity behind those eyes; there’s want and desire and need…and…and…Dean closes his eyes against it, groaning as he presses the heel of his free hand against his own dick still trapped in his jeans.
Cas groans in response to the vibration, his hand sliding from Dean’s cheek to his hair, holding him in place before pulling away.
“Cas?” Dean starts, disappointed until he looks up and sees the heat in Cas’ eyes
“Enough, Dean,” Cas says, pulling Dean’s hand away from him. Dean wants to complain, wants to argue that there is no way on Earth that it’s enough. He doesn’t get the chance as Cas fists Dean’s shirt in his hands and pulls him to his feet. Dean stumbles backwards as Cas presses him against the wall and kisses him, deep and dirty and oh so fucking good.
There is no doubt in his mind that Cas wants this, no when Cas is doing his best to lick the back of Dean’s teeth. Dean grips his hips, hands finding skin where his undone pants have slid down, and yanks forward until Cas is flush against him, bare cock rubbing against the front of his jeans. It makes Cas moan, biting Dean’s lip in surprise before he pulls away, eyes dark and dilated, mouth swollen. He’s breathing heavily and it shocks Dean what the sight of Cas desperate and panting and human does to him, human but still completely himself.
“What do you want, Dean?” He looks nervous standing there, for the first time unsure. Dean had forgotten, in the heat of the moment, that for all he seems to be, Castiel isn’t experienced in this.
Dean grins and kisses him, nips at his lips before soothing his tongue over them as he slips his hand back to Cas’ cock where it’s pressed so enticingly against him. “This,” he says, squeezing gently as Cas’ warm breath stutters across his lips. “You.” He presses a kiss to the corner of Cas’ mouth. “Me.” He follows it up with one high on Cas’ cheek. “Naked,” he adds, breath whispering across Cas’ ear when he leans in to press a kiss to the skin underneath. He feels Cas’ breath fast against his neck before he pulls away and thinks, Oh yeah, this is my game now.
Turns out Cas has other plans.
Cas’ hands on him are impatient, tugging at clothing as Dean attempts to get Cas’ shirt undone. He’s already half undressed, his pants open, by the time he gets the shirt halfway unbuttoned. In his defense, they’re small buttons. Plus, Cas keeps getting in the way. The fingers he traces along Dean’s collarbones, over his nipples, across his ribs, they’re damn distracting. Dean tells him as much.
The smile Cas shoots him is small but knowing. Dean shudders. “I thought this was what you wanted.” He doesn’t sound blank or confused; he sounds like he’s teasing. Dean feels himself flush, surprised he can manage it with how much blood is currently occupying his dick.
“Oh, it is,” he says, fumbling with the buttons as Cas presses his mouth against Dean’s neck, lips against his pulse as Dean fumbles at his shirt. “It really is. But these…goddamned…This is why I never bother with the buttons.”
Cas pulls back, stilling Dean’s hand with his own. “Yes, you are very wise, Dean,” he says, reaching over his shoulder and pulling the shirt up over his head in one even motion.
Dean would be surprised at how smooth the move is, except Cas’ hands get stuck in the cuffs. He can’t help but laugh at the look of frustration that crosses Cas’ face.
“Here,” Dean says, reaching for him. “Let me.”
He gets the cuffs undone and as soon as the shirt’s out of the way, Cas’ hands are back on him, like he can’t stay away. Dean knows the feeling; he can’t keep his own hands off the smooth, pale skin before him.
Cas arches into him, moving with Dean; his body responsive, his touch generous. Dean can’t figure out why they never did this before, why he ever thought the pull between them was going to lead to anything other than this. Why he thought it could be ignored.
Cas’ hands slide across his skin, around his torso until they’re resting at the small of his back. His hands are wide and hot, making Dean feel lit up from the inside as they stroke his skin. One hand descends farther, sneaking beneath the waistband of his jeans, the elastic of his shorts to palm his ass and, like a switch being flipped, Dean knows exactly what he wants.
“Cas,” he says, voice rough when he breaks away. “Cas, please. You have to—I want—” He swallows as Cas’ hand moves, the tips of his fingers slipping between his cheeks.
Cas looks at him with infinite patience, eyelids heavy as he waits for Dean to tell him.
“Fuck me,” Dean growls, Cas’ fingers brushing against his hole. “Yeah. Fuck me. Please, Cas, just—Can you?”
Cas’ hands disappear. Dean’s about to demand an explanation when Cas works Dean’s pants down his hips until they’re at his thighs. One hand wrapping firmly around Dean’s cock, Cas looks up at him through his lashes. ”Tell me what to do, Dean, and I will.”
Cas’ hand on his dick feels incredible, hot and perfect, and Dean has to force himself to focus. “The bed,” he says. “We should—” Suddenly Dean’s on his back on the bed, blinking up at the water-stained ceiling, scratchy motel comforter against his skin as Cas removes his boots and socks, finishes tugging his pants down his legs before tossing them out of the way. Dean watches him slip out of the rest of his clothing until he’s naked, too.
“You don’t seem to need that much instruction,” Dean can’t help but tease, leaning up on his elbows to better appreciate the sight before him.
Cas blushes and looks down at himself. It would be the sweetest thing Dean’s ever seen if it wasn’t also ridiculously hot. “I may be new to this, Dean,” Cas says, looking up and meeting his eyes again. “But I was not born yesterday.”
Dean huffs a laugh, fiddling with a loose thread on the comforter. “You’re right,” he says. “It’s just, uh, a little hard to remember that sometimes.” Cas’ eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. Dean leans on one elbow and waves a hand between them. “Uh, not that you aren’t a big, scary angel who could smite me where I lie. Just, y’know, sometimes you’re…I already told you not to change, Cas. I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Cas doesn’t move, so Dean flops back on the bed, arm covering his eyes. “There’s lube and condoms in my bag.”
When he hears Cas rummaging through his things, Dean uncovers his face and rolls off the bed. He pulls back the comforter to reveal the worn white sheets below. He doesn’t want that comforter anywhere near his naked ass when this happens, thank you. Head against the pillows, he looks up to find Cas beside the bed, lube and condom in hand.
Cas sets the condom on the nightstand. The lube he keeps in hand as he settles himself between Dean’s knees, and then he’s hovering over Dean, smooth and crazy-haired and kissing him.
Dean fists his hands in Cas’ hair and rises to meet him.
Cas’ hand glides down his chest to stroke Dean’s cock before moving to his balls, fitting them in the cradle of his palm before retreating. Dean whimpers against his mouth and pulls away. “Hey, you were on a pretty good path there, why’d you stop?”
Dean lets him go as he sits back and Cas hands him the lube. “It is my understanding that these things…work better with the proper preparation.”
Dean flips the bottle open and takes Cas’ hand in his, pouring some onto his fingers. “There,” he says, letting go. “Now you’re properly prepared to do some proper preparation.”
Cas looks at his fingers with curiosity, rubbing them slowly together. Dean drops the bottle beside him and wraps a hand around Cas’ wrist. Cas turns his attention on him as Dean guides Cas’ hand between his legs. This time when Cas touches him, his fingers are lube-slick, pressing against Dean’s opening smooth and sure.
Dean gasps, letting go of Cas’ wrist as his head falls back against the pillows. “Fuck, where did you learn this anyway?”
“I learn quickly, Dean,” Cas says, running his fingers over and around. “And I have all of creation at my disposal.”
Dean chuckles beneath him, the sound turning into a groan as he lets his thighs fall open more. “You were curious, weren’t you? After the—?”
“Den of iniquity?” Cas supplies, an eyebrow quirking up. Dean licks his lips, nodding. “Yes, Dean, I was curious. But not so innocent then as you believed.”
“Yeah,” Dean laughs, breathless and wanting. “I’m figuring that out.” He squirms beneath Cas, looking for more. Cas pulls his hands away.
“Turn over, Dean,” Castiel commands and there is no way Dean’s not going to obey, not here, not now.
He grumbles a little for show which doesn’t really work as he can’t fight the grin that wants to escape. Turning onto his side, Dean pulls himself up on his hands and knees. When he looks over his shoulder, Cas is behind him, watching him with dark eyes. Dean knows he’s hot, but it does wonders for his ego to now he’s got Castiel looking at him like that. He wiggles his ass a little, flexes, can’t help but show off. “C’mon, Cas,” he taunts. “This is an interactive sport.”
Cas’ forehead creases as his hands smooth across Dean’s hips. He moves forward until the outside of his knees press against the sweaty inside curves of Dean’s own. “I thought we had been interacting.”
Dean rocks backward against him, feels Cas’ cock against his ass. “There could be more.”
Cas leans over Dean until he’s pressed against Dean’s back, close enough for his voice to curl low in Dean’s ear. “Perhaps you should be careful what you ask for.”
That voice, that fucking voice, goes all the way to Dean’s dick. “Fuck,” Dean says. “I hope so.”
Warmth suddenly gone, Dean looks over his shoulder to see Cas slicking up his fingers. Cas drops the lube beside him, one hand on Dean’s hip holding him steady as he begins to work his fingers inside of him, pressing and sliding, stretching Dean around them. Dean rocks against his fingers, enjoying the pressure, the sound of lubed skin against skin. Every time he moves, Cas is right there, always where Dean needs him, wants him. Like he knows exactly where and how fast. Hell, Dean thinks, he probably does.
It’s uncomfortable at first. It usually is and Dean hasn’t done this in, well, awhile. But Cas is careful and Dean trusts him.
Thankfully, the discomfort doesn’t last for long. Dean can feel sparks of pleasure along his spine, working from the inside out as Cas touches him, finds that spot inside that makes everything else melt away.
Dean balances his weight on one hand and grabs the condom Cas dropped on the night stand. He rips the package open with his teeth, twisting his torso around to hand it to Cas. “I’m good, Cas. Believe me, I’m really good. Now how about the main event?”
Cas’ eyes grow darker as his fingers slide out wetly. Dean misses them immediately, but he knows he won’t for long. He wishes he were at a better angle to watch Castiel prepare himself, to see his lube-slick hand on his own cock before he slips the condom on. Maybe next time, Dean thinks. Maybe next time he’ll help.
Twisting back around, Dean resettles his weight on both hands as Cas knees closer, the head of his cock pressing against Dean’s entrance. One hand grips Dean’s hip as Cas pushes forward, guiding with his other hand until the head of his cock is in. Dean whimpers low in his throat and feels Cas’ hand come up to sit low on his back, rubbing soothing circles that trail heat behind.
“Dean?” Cas asks, pausing when Dean drops his head down between his braced arms. “Are you—?”
Dean tries to push back, but Cas holds him steady. With his head bent like this, he’s got a good view of his own dick, blood-red and hard enough to pound nails. He shifts his weight to reach for it, but Cas’ hand leaves his back to stop him. “You’re driving me crazy here, Cas,” he pants.
“No more than you have done to me.” Dean can feel the strength in that grip on his arm, the one on his hip.
“Great, we drive each other crazy. Now can you plea—Oh fuck.”
Dean’s face almost hits the pillow when Cas’ hips snap forward.
Cas fucks him smoothly; no stuttering or hesitation, just long, firm thrusts that Dean feels everywhere. It’s all he can do to hang on, to plant his hands and knees and not end up face first against the headboard. Cas is hot against him, inside him, hands slipping on Dean’s sweat-slick skin, seeking purchase on his hips.
Dean feels like he’s burning up, like his skin can no longer contain him. Like there’s more there than he realized and he never—he never knew until Castiel came along and broke him open.
He can hear Cas breathing heavily behind him, the sound too far away. “Cas,” he says. Dean presses one hand to the headboard, palm slipping against the cheap wood, and turns his head. Cas is wild-eyed, focused completely on Dean. “Cas, I want. I want—”
“Tell me, Dean. Tell me what you want.”
“More.”
Hands urge Dean to follow as Cas kneels backwards, sitting back on his heels. Dean goes with the movement, lets Cas move him until he’s in Cas’ lap. Dean’s hips twitch and he groans at the change of angle. He has to take a moment to find his balance again, astride Cas’ thighs. Cas’ arm across his chest helps as Cas presses them together, front to back, thighs to thighs, cock throbbing inside of him.
Dean holds on to Cas’ forearm with one hand, presses the other over Cas’ hand still gripping his hip.
Like this, Cas’ face is right beside his. Dean thinks that next time—next time—they are doing this face to face. He feels Cas’ breath across his skin, the movement of Cas’ lips against his ear as Cas says, “I have given you everything, and still you ask for more.”
“I can’t help it. I’m selfish,” Dean says, moving his hips in a slow circle. He smirks when Cas’ breath catches in his chest.
Cas rubs across a nipple with his thumb, flicks back across it with his nail. “So am I.”
Cas’ arm flexes beneath his palm as Cas flattens his hand against Dean’s chest, pulling Dean in more snugly as his hips begin to move again, his cock a slow drag in and out that threatens to drive Dean just that much crazier as he picks up the pace.
Dean moves with him, revels in the feel of Cas deep within him, all around him, the sweaty stick and slide of their skin.
“Dean,” Cas moans. “Dean, you are—are—” He pulls his hand from Dean’s hip, wrapping it around Dean’s cock and pulling. Dean writhes with pleasure, caught between Cas’ cock and his hand. “Dean,” Cas breathes, pressing his face against the side of Dean’s, lips moving against the curve of his jaw. “Fuck.”
Dean feels the word on his skin, in his bones; it’s like a spark to gunpowder. Groaning, he comes, long and hard, the tension that’s been coiling inside of him since Cas pinned him to the wall finally releasing as Cas brings him off.
Cas’ hips stutter beneath Dean and he turns his face into Dean’s shoulder, coming with Dean’s name on his lips.
It’s too much to keep balanced after that. Dean has just enough presence of mind to keep them from ending up in a bruised tangle of limbs on the floor next to the bed. With a little help, he lets gravity do its thing, falling forward with Cas against the sheets. He lays there for a moment, cataloguing the feel of his body as he catches his breath. There’s a dull ache in his knees which he finds really depressing, but other than that he feels really fucking good. Thanks to a good fucking, he thinks, grinning into the pillow.
Cas is draped over his back, a comforting weight against his skin, dick softening inside of him. Dean shudders at the feel. If they had more time, maybe they could stay like this. Go again.
Shifting against him, Cas drops a kiss to the curve of Dean’s shoulder before pulling away, pulling out. Dean resists the urge to reach for him and ask him not to move, to stay right where he is.
Cas drops the condom in the trash tucked under the night stand before settling on his side next to Dean, hand resting low on Dean’s back. He seems tense, which is odd all things considered.
Dean folds his arms on top of his pillow and looks at Cas across the white expanse, mind fumbling through an orgasmic fog to figure out what might be wrong. He stretches, feeling the burn of well-used muscle, and can’t help but grin. Cas relaxes beside him and, oh. That was easy.
“Not bad for our first time, huh?” Dean smirks.
“No,” Cas answers, shaking his head. “Though…”
“What? Don’t tell me that wasn’t awesome because that, that was…”
“Awesome, yes,” Cas agrees. He looks amused. “Though I think practice would not go amiss. I may not have proven how much I want this.”
Dean laughs, making Castiel blush. Levering himself up on an elbow, Dean reaches out to Cas with one hand. He runs his fingers across Cas’ slightly frowning brow, cups his cheek. “Oh, I think you proved yourself plenty. But we are definitely doing that again,” he says, leaning in to kiss Cas’ parted lips. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”
Cas nods, forehead pressing against Dean’s. He licks his lips and Dean feels the movement against his own. “Yes.”
“Good.” Dean leans in again, one kiss turning to two, to three. Five before he can pull away. “Unfortunately, that’ll have to wait. We need to go find Sam, grab dinner.” It’s a damn shame they have to wait, that they can’t do anything more right now. But Sam’s out there waiting after making himself scarce and lunch seems forever ago.
Dean looks down at both of them, sticky with sweat and lube and come. “I’ve got an idea,” he says, shifting himself onto his knees. He climbs off the bed and heads for the bathroom. At the door, he turns around. “Well? You coming?”
Cas eyes him from across the room, forehead creased in confusion, but he slides to the side of the bed and stands. “Coming where?”
Dean leers. “The shower,” he says, visions of Cas wet and naked and slick with soap already distracting him. “We can’t go out like this and we don’t want to keep Sam waiting, right?”
There’s a glint in Cas’ eye as he gets closer. “And you suggest we share?”
“Sure,” Dean grins. “It’ll save time. And water.”
“It would be more efficient.”
“Exactly. And we could fit in some more, y’know, practice.”
“I’m glad we are on the same page, Dean.”
Yeah, Dean thinks, so am I.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 07:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 08:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 08:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 10:08 am (UTC)I agree. This is a very good page to be on. I think we should stay on it.
I have to admit to you that I squealed when I saw you had posted. :D You're easily one of my favourite authors in fandom. :) I just absolutely love your style and the way your words just flow. ♥ And of course, you have perfect characterization. And the dialogue? I always appreciate good dialogue, because I fail with it. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 01:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 02:45 pm (UTC)o_O Guh... *Incoherent*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 03:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 03:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 03:59 pm (UTC)you know what's my favorite part, though? cas getting his hands stuck in the shirt cuffs. :']
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 04:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 04:21 pm (UTC)Now to my own shower...
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 04:29 pm (UTC)*hugs it*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 04:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 05:44 pm (UTC)I love how you started them off angry with all the pent up sexual tension, and then gradually moved them towards something different without it being soppy. I really enjoyed it, thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-15 05:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-16 12:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-16 12:48 am (UTC)cannot tell you how hot that was.
i think im in dire need of a cold shower now thank you very much
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-16 12:53 am (UTC)Delicious!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-16 02:11 am (UTC)Laura.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-16 04:17 am (UTC)Goddamn.
♥
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-16 04:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-16 05:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-17 12:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-17 12:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-17 12:38 am (UTC)