annundriel | SPN Fic: The Ecstasy, Dean/Castiel (NC-17)

The Ecstasy
Dean/Castiel
NC-17
900
No spoilers.
They'll remember this later.

And back to our regularly scheduled porn. Thank you,

mclachlan and

ginnith, for reading this over. ♥♥ When in doubt of a title, turn to John Donne.

Cas’ fingers slide up the damp crease where Dean’s thigh meets his hip, wrapping around the jut of bone there, holding Dean steady. By morning, bruises will have blossomed where his fingers pressed, five dark blotches to match the handprint on his shoulder. Dean knows that he will trace them in the shower. That those days when Cas is gone—doing whatever it is he does when he flaps those wings and disappears—he will jerk off with one hand pressed hard against the fading thumb print tucked close to his to his cock until he feels the muscle-deep ache Cas has left and comes beneath the hot-water spray.

Until then, Dean has Cas right here, fingers pressed into Dean’s skin, mouth inches from Dean’s cock.

Dean shifts his hips, and Cas’ hand tightens, pressing down. His eyes flick up to meet Dean’s; they’re dark and hot, limitless and curious. Learning and knowing Dean in ways Dean’s becoming increasingly used to but continues to be unsettled by. He wants to squirm against the weight of that gaze, but Cas has him pinned.

“Patience, Dean,” Cas says. His eyes flicker back to Dean’s cock, and he wraps his free hand around the base, pulling back a little to watch, to study his hand and Dean’s dick and Dean’s reaction to every combination of the two.

Dean groans as Cas changes pace and grip, varies rhythm; another one of Cas’ quests.

It’s going to end up being a really good way for Dean to go when it inevitably kills him.

“Cas,” he says, and Cas glances up at him again, his mouth twitching. Dean’s not sure if he hates that Cas finds it funny or loves that he can make Cas’ mouth do that. No one else, him. A little a both, probably. At the moment, though, he’d really like it if Cas did something else with his mouth instead. “Please,” he gets out. “Would you just—”

Cas’ tongue darts out, pink and wet, to lick up the underside of Dean’s cock, eyes wide and watching. “I want to know what you like, Dean,” he says, and Dean shudders at the ghost of breath across his damp skin.

Dean’s hips twitch as Cas takes the head of his cock into his mouth, lips wrapped tight around him before pulling off. Dean knows Cas saw them move, knows he felt them. Knows in some still functioning part of his brain that Cas is weighing that twitch with the way Dean squirmed against the sheets earlier with only Cas’ hands on his skin. Because Cas wants to know.

It doesn’t matter that Cas already knows him more intimately than anyone ever has, than anyone ever will. That he found Dean and raised Dean and put his faith in Dean when Dean’s not sure he would have done as much. It doesn’t matter because what Cas wants to know is what makes him tick, what makes Dean’s body writhe and his breath stutter, what makes his heart race and his palms sweat.

What leaves him hard and wanting and completely at Cas’ mercy spread out against worn motel sheets.

As goals go, Dean finds he can’t argue with it. He doesn’t particularly want to.

“By all means,” Dean manages, “don’t let me stop you.”

Cas’ look says I won’t and his mouth on Dean’s cock is wet and hot, slick and messy. Unpracticed and unselfconscious.

It’s fucking perfect.

Cas’ hand and lips around him, his tongue working along the length of it, flicking against the head, makes Dean moan and pant. He clutches at the sheets and Cas, at anything his hands can reach as Cas works him toward the finish line, everything too much and not enough.

Cas sucks and licks and touches, hums and swallows, throat working. He grounds Dean with one hand, takes him apart with the other. The whole time his eyes are open, gaze covering Dean’s skin, traveling his belly and chest to lock on his face and take it all in.

Breathless, muscles wound tight, when Dean comes it’s with his heart in his throat and Cas’ name on his lips.

Cas works him through it, mouth and hands gone gentle, soft and careful. Once Dean’s heart stops tripping around his chest, he opens his eyes his eyes to find Cas watching him, a look on his face like the cat who got the cream.

Heh.

Dean reaches out, runs a hand through Cas’ already crazy hair, across his flushed cheek. Cas turns into it, stubble scraping against the ball of Dean’s hand, nose nuzzled against his thumb as Cas presses his lips there, less a kiss than a connection.

“C’mere,” Dean says.

Cas does, moving up Dean’s body until he’s close enough to kiss. He tastes like sex and Dean, and Dean chases that taste through his mouth, across his tongue and behind his molars until it’s Cas who’s squirming against him, hard at Dean’s hip, his cock pressing against the trail of his own fingerprints. He blinks at Dean when Dean pulls away, and Dean relishes the look there, savors the fact that he gets to have this.

The world may be gloriously fucked beyond repair or salvation, but Dean gets Cas.

Dean’s got Cas.

He watches Cas’ tongue slide across his lower lip, licks at his own. “My turn,” Dean says, and rolls them over.

Current Mood: tired
Current Music: Cosmic Love - Florence + The Machine

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

rock-chick-333.livejournal.com

Oh, my. I do like Cas in exploratory, getting-to-know-Dean's-buttons mode. When he gets the lay of the land, Dean is in sooooo much trouble... *fans self*

From:

The Rambling Confessions of a Fickle Fangirl

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