SPN Porn Battle Fic: Sticky
Jan. 24th, 2010 05:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielI wrote porn over at the Porn Battle. Yea!
Sticky. Dean/Castiel. NC-17. 1201 words. Prompt: hands. Dean's got a fixation.
Sticky
Castiel’s hands remade him; they know every curve and dip and groove, every crease and line of Dean’s body. It shouldn’t surprise Dean that for all of Cas’ inexperience he can pull pleasure out of Dean like it’s second nature to him, stroking and touching, caressing and holding until Dean comes with a cry and a groan every time.
It makes doing anything with Cas outside of sex really fucking difficult. It’s a damn good thing Cas doesn’t eat; it’s—No, he’s hard enough, watching Cas handle a knife during a fight, he hates to think of the really embarrassing things that could happen if he ever watched Cas handle a spoon.
Oooh, Cas with a spoon. And maybe ice cream. Or, oh! Ice cream and pie!
Dean licks his lips unconsciously, imagining Cas’ fingers wrapped around a fork, carefully eating apple pie ala mode. It’s practically pornographic, thinking of those long fingers firm and capable on stainless steel. Which only makes Dean think of them firm and capable wrapped around other things, things as hard as steel. Grip firm as he jacks Dean off against the door to their room…
It’s a really good thing no one can read Dean’s mind because really? It’s kind of pathetic.
Except Dean glances up from his own slice of pie to find Cas watching him across the worn Formica of the diner table, eyes wide and lips parted and, fuck, someone here can read Dean’s mind.
Cas’ hands flex against the table.
“I’ll be right back,” Dean says, eyes never leaving Cas. “I’ve got to, uh, take a leak.” Dean slides out of the booth, shooting Cas a significant look. Sam doesn’t look up at all.
Stealthily adjusting himself, he makes his way past table after table until he reaches the bathrooms at the back of the diner. He doesn’t look back at all, but he knows that in a couple of minutes, Cas will follow him. He always does.
Dean leans over the sink and waits.
Sure enough, a couple minutes later the door swings open and Cas walks in. He looks flushed and hot under the collar and it’s crazy that Dean can do that to him just by thinking at him.
Cas stands inside the door, hands at his sides, unmoving. Neither of them says anything, and Dean stalks toward him, leaning in close to flip the lock on the door. “Well,” he says, “now that you’re he—”
The door is hard against his back, cool against his skull. He hardly notices, though, with the way Cas’ mouth is demanding on his, slick and hot. The way Cas’ fingers scramble at the front of his jeans until he’s got them open, hand wrapping around Dean’s length so perfectly Dean has to break away to groan, back of his head thudding against the door.
“Quiet, Dean,” Cas says, mouth wet against Dean’s jaw. He nips and sucks, licks and kisses, works his hand between them like a pro, and Dean can’t stay quiet no matter how much he knows he should.
“Cas,” he moans, hands searching for purchase, finding it at Cas’ arm, the door handle. “Fuck.”
Suddenly Cas’ free hand is over Dean’s mouth. Dean blinks at him in surprise over his fingers, hips moving restlessly when Cas stops stroking him. “Not here,” Cas says, leaning heavier against him. “Later.”
There’s promise in that voice, promise and barely contained lust and Dean tries not to make another sound, he really does.
Cas begins moving again, grip tight around Dean’s cock. He leaves his other hand where it is. Just in case, Dean thinks. It’s unfortunate he no longer has Cas’ mouth there, but Dean’s more than happy with his hand. Flicking his tongue across Cas’ palm, Dean wants to laugh at the way Cas’ eyes go wide and find his, looking up from his work below.
Dean wonders if Cas can feel his smirk.
He licks Cas’ palm again, tastes sweat and salt, a hint of metal and gunpowder. Turning his head slightly, he can feel the creases of Cas’ fingers, slides his tongue over them. Between them. Gets them slick and wet.
Cas blinks at him, eyes going from fierce to unfocused. His hand stutters on Dean’s cock, a broken sound escaping him.
Dean licks at his palm, his fingers; licks and teases until Cas’ hand is loose against his mouth, fingers slipping in for Dean to suck.
Eyes dark and cheeks flushed, breathing heavy, Cas’ tongue sneaks across his bottom lip and Dean wishes he were sucking on that, on Cas’ cock. Wishes they were back in the motel room and he was sucking Cas fingers, getting them wet to work Dean open and fuck him until they’re both boneless.
They’re not, though; they’re in some diner bathroom with bad lighting and a slightly sticky floor. But later…later Dean will do just that. Dean’s a big fan of later.
Dean’s a big fan of now, too, Cas squeezing his hand around him, sliding it up and down, watching Dean with dark eyes.
Cas’ fingers leave wet trails against Dean’s cheek when he slides them from his mouth, replacing them with his tongue. Cas kisses him wet and dirty. Tongue and teeth and lips getting in the action, demanding Dean reciprocate.
Dean holds tight and does his best to keep up, feels Cas’ hand move faster on his cock until Dean is moaning Cas’ name into his mouth and coming with stars behind his eyes.
Cas stiffens against him for a moment and Dean knows that he’s come without Dean really touching him, if you can call fellating his fingers “not touching.” Cas pulls away, forehead heavy on Dean’s shoulder, breath hot against Dean’s neck when he turns his head that way before straightening up. Dean’s grateful for the door at his back when Cas releases him and steps away.
Hair and clothes more disheveled than usual, face pink with exertion and stubble burn, Cas definitely looks like he’s been getting up to something. Dean’s not sure how they’re going to get back to the booth, let alone back to the room, without anyone noticing.
Dean tucks himself back into his jeans, looking up in time to catch Cas examining his come-covered hand, pink tongue darting out to lick up the side of one finger. Dean shudders and feels his dick twitch, already interested. Still interested. Cas glances at him, eyes knowing, and smirks.
“Fuck,” Dean says, heart skipping. He grins and shakes his head, walking past Cas to the sink. Washing his hands, he glances in the mirror; it could be worse. He doesn’t think he’ll scandalize the mid-afternoon crowd too much. Cas, though…
“I don’t know what we’re going to do with you,” he says, reaching for a paper towel. Ruffled and come-stained, utterly debauched. Dean enjoys the look, but he doesn’t exactly want to share it.
When he turns around, though, Cas only looks as rumpled as he ever does. Like some over-worked, over-tired accountant.
Dean pauses, staring. “That’s a handy trick.”
Cas smirks at him and unlocks the door. “With you,” he says, “yes, it is.”
Chuckling, Dean follows him out of the bathroom.
Sticky. Dean/Castiel. NC-17. 1201 words. Prompt: hands. Dean's got a fixation.
Sticky
Castiel’s hands remade him; they know every curve and dip and groove, every crease and line of Dean’s body. It shouldn’t surprise Dean that for all of Cas’ inexperience he can pull pleasure out of Dean like it’s second nature to him, stroking and touching, caressing and holding until Dean comes with a cry and a groan every time.
It makes doing anything with Cas outside of sex really fucking difficult. It’s a damn good thing Cas doesn’t eat; it’s—No, he’s hard enough, watching Cas handle a knife during a fight, he hates to think of the really embarrassing things that could happen if he ever watched Cas handle a spoon.
Oooh, Cas with a spoon. And maybe ice cream. Or, oh! Ice cream and pie!
Dean licks his lips unconsciously, imagining Cas’ fingers wrapped around a fork, carefully eating apple pie ala mode. It’s practically pornographic, thinking of those long fingers firm and capable on stainless steel. Which only makes Dean think of them firm and capable wrapped around other things, things as hard as steel. Grip firm as he jacks Dean off against the door to their room…
It’s a really good thing no one can read Dean’s mind because really? It’s kind of pathetic.
Except Dean glances up from his own slice of pie to find Cas watching him across the worn Formica of the diner table, eyes wide and lips parted and, fuck, someone here can read Dean’s mind.
Cas’ hands flex against the table.
“I’ll be right back,” Dean says, eyes never leaving Cas. “I’ve got to, uh, take a leak.” Dean slides out of the booth, shooting Cas a significant look. Sam doesn’t look up at all.
Stealthily adjusting himself, he makes his way past table after table until he reaches the bathrooms at the back of the diner. He doesn’t look back at all, but he knows that in a couple of minutes, Cas will follow him. He always does.
Dean leans over the sink and waits.
Sure enough, a couple minutes later the door swings open and Cas walks in. He looks flushed and hot under the collar and it’s crazy that Dean can do that to him just by thinking at him.
Cas stands inside the door, hands at his sides, unmoving. Neither of them says anything, and Dean stalks toward him, leaning in close to flip the lock on the door. “Well,” he says, “now that you’re he—”
The door is hard against his back, cool against his skull. He hardly notices, though, with the way Cas’ mouth is demanding on his, slick and hot. The way Cas’ fingers scramble at the front of his jeans until he’s got them open, hand wrapping around Dean’s length so perfectly Dean has to break away to groan, back of his head thudding against the door.
“Quiet, Dean,” Cas says, mouth wet against Dean’s jaw. He nips and sucks, licks and kisses, works his hand between them like a pro, and Dean can’t stay quiet no matter how much he knows he should.
“Cas,” he moans, hands searching for purchase, finding it at Cas’ arm, the door handle. “Fuck.”
Suddenly Cas’ free hand is over Dean’s mouth. Dean blinks at him in surprise over his fingers, hips moving restlessly when Cas stops stroking him. “Not here,” Cas says, leaning heavier against him. “Later.”
There’s promise in that voice, promise and barely contained lust and Dean tries not to make another sound, he really does.
Cas begins moving again, grip tight around Dean’s cock. He leaves his other hand where it is. Just in case, Dean thinks. It’s unfortunate he no longer has Cas’ mouth there, but Dean’s more than happy with his hand. Flicking his tongue across Cas’ palm, Dean wants to laugh at the way Cas’ eyes go wide and find his, looking up from his work below.
Dean wonders if Cas can feel his smirk.
He licks Cas’ palm again, tastes sweat and salt, a hint of metal and gunpowder. Turning his head slightly, he can feel the creases of Cas’ fingers, slides his tongue over them. Between them. Gets them slick and wet.
Cas blinks at him, eyes going from fierce to unfocused. His hand stutters on Dean’s cock, a broken sound escaping him.
Dean licks at his palm, his fingers; licks and teases until Cas’ hand is loose against his mouth, fingers slipping in for Dean to suck.
Eyes dark and cheeks flushed, breathing heavy, Cas’ tongue sneaks across his bottom lip and Dean wishes he were sucking on that, on Cas’ cock. Wishes they were back in the motel room and he was sucking Cas fingers, getting them wet to work Dean open and fuck him until they’re both boneless.
They’re not, though; they’re in some diner bathroom with bad lighting and a slightly sticky floor. But later…later Dean will do just that. Dean’s a big fan of later.
Dean’s a big fan of now, too, Cas squeezing his hand around him, sliding it up and down, watching Dean with dark eyes.
Cas’ fingers leave wet trails against Dean’s cheek when he slides them from his mouth, replacing them with his tongue. Cas kisses him wet and dirty. Tongue and teeth and lips getting in the action, demanding Dean reciprocate.
Dean holds tight and does his best to keep up, feels Cas’ hand move faster on his cock until Dean is moaning Cas’ name into his mouth and coming with stars behind his eyes.
Cas stiffens against him for a moment and Dean knows that he’s come without Dean really touching him, if you can call fellating his fingers “not touching.” Cas pulls away, forehead heavy on Dean’s shoulder, breath hot against Dean’s neck when he turns his head that way before straightening up. Dean’s grateful for the door at his back when Cas releases him and steps away.
Hair and clothes more disheveled than usual, face pink with exertion and stubble burn, Cas definitely looks like he’s been getting up to something. Dean’s not sure how they’re going to get back to the booth, let alone back to the room, without anyone noticing.
Dean tucks himself back into his jeans, looking up in time to catch Cas examining his come-covered hand, pink tongue darting out to lick up the side of one finger. Dean shudders and feels his dick twitch, already interested. Still interested. Cas glances at him, eyes knowing, and smirks.
“Fuck,” Dean says, heart skipping. He grins and shakes his head, walking past Cas to the sink. Washing his hands, he glances in the mirror; it could be worse. He doesn’t think he’ll scandalize the mid-afternoon crowd too much. Cas, though…
“I don’t know what we’re going to do with you,” he says, reaching for a paper towel. Ruffled and come-stained, utterly debauched. Dean enjoys the look, but he doesn’t exactly want to share it.
When he turns around, though, Cas only looks as rumpled as he ever does. Like some over-worked, over-tired accountant.
Dean pauses, staring. “That’s a handy trick.”
Cas smirks at him and unlocks the door. “With you,” he says, “yes, it is.”
Chuckling, Dean follows him out of the bathroom.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-25 04:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-25 08:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-26 05:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-27 06:06 am (UTC)Thank you!!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-01 08:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-01 08:46 pm (UTC)This was DAMN HOT, especially the bit with Castiel's hand over Dean's mouth. Unnnngh, brilliant!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-01 08:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-01 08:52 pm (UTC)Again: UNM.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-01 09:31 pm (UTC)And don't even know what to say except !!!!!! And yes, that's a very good thing. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-01 09:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-01 09:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-01 09:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-01 10:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-02 01:55 am (UTC)BRB bunk.
ETA: Two of my kinks, actually. One is hand!porn, another is Castiel reading Dean's thoughts while he fantasizes about having sex with Cas.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-02 02:59 am (UTC)I'll be in my bunk, natch.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-02 03:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-02 05:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-02 05:43 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you enjoyed this, thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-02 05:44 pm (UTC)Disheveled, debauched Cas is one of my favorite mental images. ;) Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-02 05:46 pm (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed it! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-02 05:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-02 05:54 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you enjoyed it! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-02 05:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-02 06:47 pm (UTC)I hope you accept onomatopoeic reviews. <3
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-02 08:00 pm (UTC)