SPN Ficlet: Hunger, Dean/Castiel (R)
Feb. 7th, 2010 11:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielHunger
Dean/Castiel
R
777
One hunger is traded for another.
This fic was inspired by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spacefragments very nice piece of fanart here, which was in turn inspired by the preview for episode 5.14. I love her art in general, but this piece in particular caught my attention and I've been thinking about it since it was posted. So this is for her as something of a thank you for the art. I hope you enjoy it!
Dean’s mouth on his is slick and hot and tastes like the whiskey he’s been drinking, like late nights and desperation. Castiel knows he should push Dean away, that neither of them are in their right minds, but he wants so badly and when he raises his hands they clutch and grasp, not pushing away at all. He slides a hand through Dean’s hair and kisses back, mouth falling open and welcoming Dean in, meeting each slip and slide of Dean’s tongue and lips with his own.
Distantly, Castiel hears the dull thud of the whiskey bottle Dean’s been nursing hitting the floor, Dean’s hand suddenly free, fingers twining with Castiel’s and squeezing before letting go to grab at his coat. Castiel could smell the alcohol on Dean earlier, but now the smell permeates the air as the bottle tips and spills on the carpet. Dean doesn’t seem to care or even notice, hands turned greedy, one hunger replaced with another.
Castiel falls backwards as Dean pushes him down until they’re horizontal on the bed, feet hanging off the end. It’s an entirely new sensation, being pinned like this, but Castiel relishes Dean’s weight against him and feels the burn of desire deep within. He’s never done this before, never wanted this before, but Dean inspires him to new heights, new depths, and Castiel lets him.
Instinct and Dean’s knees have Castiel opening his legs, shifting to accommodate Dean between them. He can feel Dean’s erection even through the layers of their clothing, and knows that Dean can feel him, gasps when Dean rocks his hips against him.
Dean mouths along his jaw, sucking and nipping at Castiel’s skin; he works his way downward, lips pressing nonsense along his throat as his fingers scramble at the loose knot of Castiel’s tie, his collar, pulling them askew, needing to find more skin. Castiel tilts his head back against the bed to give Dean more room and shudders when Dean latches on and sucks.
Castiel’s hips buck of their own accord, but Dean just presses back, hands hard on Castiel’s shoulders, holding him in place. The mark won’t stay, not for long, but that’s all right; all of the traces Dean is leaving on him go deeper than the surface, and Castiel will carry them with him for the rest of his existence.
Dean pulls back and licks the bruise Castiel knows is blooming briefly where his neck meets his shoulder, laves it with his tongue, soothing the hot skin before nipping briefly at the mark. Castiel groans and feels Dean chuckle darkly against him before Dean’s mouth covers his once more, hard and demanding.
Fingers in his hair, one leg hooked around Dean’s, Castiel pulls him as close as he can, urging him on with lips and tongue and teeth, with the noises that keep getting caught between them, the twitch and thrust of his hips.
Dean doesn’t need much encouragement. Hands gripping and pulling, grasping and tearing, Dean’s hips work against his, their erections rubbing together, friction almost too much with the fabric in the way. But it’s good, it’s so good, and just what Castiel has been craving, what his skin has been itching for. If it feels like this while they’re dressed, he thinks, it can only be better when they’re not.
Oh, he wants that; he wants Dean naked above him, below him, near him, inside him. He wants and wants and wants. Wants to take and have and keep.
And for now he has. He’s not sure it’s enough, not sure it will ever be enough.
Dean rocks desperately against him, groaning and panting as Castiel meets him move for move.
“Fuck,” Dean breathes, pulling away. “Fuck, Cas, I need—I need—”
He reaches his peak with a shudder and a cry, and Castiel tumbles after, pleasure shooting through him with surprising speed and force, everything gone dark and bright and hot around him.
When he opens his eyes, Dean’s watching him like he’s coming out of a haze; his own eyes bloodshot with drink and lack of sleep. He looks wary.
“Jesus, Cas,” he says, and Castiel ignores the blasphemy. “We—I shouldn’t—”
Castiel ignores his objections, pulling Dean down with a firm hand on the back of his skull and kissing him. This want was vibrating beneath his skin long before this night; he’s certain it was there under Dean’s as well. But Dean is very good at denial, both in terms of himself and the rest of the world.
Dean kisses him back, and when Castiel pushes at his shoulder, urging him to roll over, Dean lets him.
Dean/Castiel
R
777
One hunger is traded for another.
This fic was inspired by
spacefragments very nice piece of fanart here, which was in turn inspired by the preview for episode 5.14. I love her art in general, but this piece in particular caught my attention and I've been thinking about it since it was posted. So this is for her as something of a thank you for the art. I hope you enjoy it!Dean’s mouth on his is slick and hot and tastes like the whiskey he’s been drinking, like late nights and desperation. Castiel knows he should push Dean away, that neither of them are in their right minds, but he wants so badly and when he raises his hands they clutch and grasp, not pushing away at all. He slides a hand through Dean’s hair and kisses back, mouth falling open and welcoming Dean in, meeting each slip and slide of Dean’s tongue and lips with his own.
Distantly, Castiel hears the dull thud of the whiskey bottle Dean’s been nursing hitting the floor, Dean’s hand suddenly free, fingers twining with Castiel’s and squeezing before letting go to grab at his coat. Castiel could smell the alcohol on Dean earlier, but now the smell permeates the air as the bottle tips and spills on the carpet. Dean doesn’t seem to care or even notice, hands turned greedy, one hunger replaced with another.
Castiel falls backwards as Dean pushes him down until they’re horizontal on the bed, feet hanging off the end. It’s an entirely new sensation, being pinned like this, but Castiel relishes Dean’s weight against him and feels the burn of desire deep within. He’s never done this before, never wanted this before, but Dean inspires him to new heights, new depths, and Castiel lets him.
Instinct and Dean’s knees have Castiel opening his legs, shifting to accommodate Dean between them. He can feel Dean’s erection even through the layers of their clothing, and knows that Dean can feel him, gasps when Dean rocks his hips against him.
Dean mouths along his jaw, sucking and nipping at Castiel’s skin; he works his way downward, lips pressing nonsense along his throat as his fingers scramble at the loose knot of Castiel’s tie, his collar, pulling them askew, needing to find more skin. Castiel tilts his head back against the bed to give Dean more room and shudders when Dean latches on and sucks.
Castiel’s hips buck of their own accord, but Dean just presses back, hands hard on Castiel’s shoulders, holding him in place. The mark won’t stay, not for long, but that’s all right; all of the traces Dean is leaving on him go deeper than the surface, and Castiel will carry them with him for the rest of his existence.
Dean pulls back and licks the bruise Castiel knows is blooming briefly where his neck meets his shoulder, laves it with his tongue, soothing the hot skin before nipping briefly at the mark. Castiel groans and feels Dean chuckle darkly against him before Dean’s mouth covers his once more, hard and demanding.
Fingers in his hair, one leg hooked around Dean’s, Castiel pulls him as close as he can, urging him on with lips and tongue and teeth, with the noises that keep getting caught between them, the twitch and thrust of his hips.
Dean doesn’t need much encouragement. Hands gripping and pulling, grasping and tearing, Dean’s hips work against his, their erections rubbing together, friction almost too much with the fabric in the way. But it’s good, it’s so good, and just what Castiel has been craving, what his skin has been itching for. If it feels like this while they’re dressed, he thinks, it can only be better when they’re not.
Oh, he wants that; he wants Dean naked above him, below him, near him, inside him. He wants and wants and wants. Wants to take and have and keep.
And for now he has. He’s not sure it’s enough, not sure it will ever be enough.
Dean rocks desperately against him, groaning and panting as Castiel meets him move for move.
“Fuck,” Dean breathes, pulling away. “Fuck, Cas, I need—I need—”
He reaches his peak with a shudder and a cry, and Castiel tumbles after, pleasure shooting through him with surprising speed and force, everything gone dark and bright and hot around him.
When he opens his eyes, Dean’s watching him like he’s coming out of a haze; his own eyes bloodshot with drink and lack of sleep. He looks wary.
“Jesus, Cas,” he says, and Castiel ignores the blasphemy. “We—I shouldn’t—”
Castiel ignores his objections, pulling Dean down with a firm hand on the back of his skull and kissing him. This want was vibrating beneath his skin long before this night; he’s certain it was there under Dean’s as well. But Dean is very good at denial, both in terms of himself and the rest of the world.
Dean kisses him back, and when Castiel pushes at his shoulder, urging him to roll over, Dean lets him.
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Date: 2010-02-08 07:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-09 09:35 pm (UTC)