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annundrielBath and Body
Dean/Castiel
NC-17
4204
No spoilers. Just porn. Fifth in what I like to call my Apocalypse, What Apocalypse? series. Follows But Soon Again.
Cas catches Dean red-handed in the shower.
Contains rimming, among other things. Look, they're finally in a shower! Massive thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
olivelavonne, mclachlan, and ginnith.
The next time Dean wakes up, it’s morning. He stretches, feels the burn of muscle that means he’s been well and thoroughly fucked, and grins into his pillow. Rolling over, he says, “Morning, Ca—”
Except Cas isn’t there. There is a distinct Cas-shaped emptiness next to him on the bed.
Huh. Dean shifts his weight up onto one elbow and takes in the room. Cas isn’t anywhere, none of Cas’ things are either. There’s something niggling at the back of Dean’s brain, though, something...
He vaguely remembers Cas leaning over him earlier, hand warm on Dean’s shoulder as he gave it a brief, hard squeeze, voice low in Dean’s ear. “I will return shortly, Dean,” Cas had said. Dean’s not sure how long ago that was, but he’s got no doubt Cas will return.
Shrugging it off, he slides his legs over the side of the bed, sitting gingerly for a moment in order to regain his equilibrium. His knees ache a little and his ass is definitely sore, but yeah, it’s a good feeling. It’s a good morning, even if Cas doesn’t happen to be there at the moment.
Stretching again at the side of the bed, Dean’s skin feels itchy in patches, dry and tight where come and lube didn’t quite get cleaned away in their lazy, boneless wipe-downs. If Cas is gone, he might as well clean up a little. Wash it all away so they can do it again later.
Dean stands and pads naked to the bathroom, hand scratching idly at his stomach as he flips on the light. He catches sight of himself in the mirror—hair disheveled, cheeks pink with stubble burn, marks on his jaw and neck, his arms; all of it Cas’ doing—and can’t help the grin that appears. It’s big and goofy, undeniably happy, clearly well-laid; he’d be embarrassed by it, except there’s no one around to see it.
Shaking his head at his reflection, Dean thinks, You’re going soft, Winchester, which naturally makes him think about just how not soft things were the night before.
After relieving himself, Dean pushes the shower curtain out of the way and leans down, turning the tap on before switching it over to run the shower. He steps in and sighs, tilting his head back under the hot spray, as the water beats down on his shoulders, sluicing over and across his skin. Dean feels sweat and come—his and Cas’—wash away.
He stands there a minute, lets the water run over him before reaching for the soap, rubbing it into a lather between his hands before running them over his chest. As he soaps himself up, he lets his mind wander to the night before, to Cas’ eagerness and desire, the way he’d watch Dean and open for him, let Dean in. He remembers thinking how different what they had was from everything that had come before. In the light of day, it’s almost overwhelming; Dean’s got Cas hook, line, and sinker.
And Cas has him.
He wonders if Cas knows that. He probably does. Dean hopes he does.
Dean brushes soapy fingers across his nipples and thinks of Cas’ fingers there and everywhere, caressing and teasing, Cas’ hands and mouth on him, touching and marking, pulling pleasure from him like taffy, slow and sticky and sweet. With his eyes closed, the hands against his skin could be Cas’. Dean enjoys thinking about that, enjoys the idea of Cas pressed behind him, smoothing hands down his chest and belly, soap bubbles leading the way to his cock as Cas’ hands follow, one slipping down to cup his balls while the other wraps around the base of his cock and—
The thud of the soap slipping out of Dean’s hand and hitting the bottom of the tub makes the Cas in Dean’s head disappear as effectively as the real Cas ever does. Dean sighs and bends to pick it up, feeling the pull and burn of muscle in his thighs and ass, his lower back. Straightening, soap in hand, he can’t help but reach back, slide a curious finger between his cheeks, against his entrance, feel how loose he still is, how sore. Finds he really likes the reminder. He wonders if Cas still feels it, too, if Cas can. Hopes Cas does; hopes Cas feels Dean as much as Dean feels him.
Pushing forward, Dean shudders a little as his finger breaches his ass. He drops the soap again, ignoring the dully ringing thud as it hits the porcelain in favor of wrapping his soapy hand around his dick, fingers brushing against his balls. He pushes back against his finger, adds another, thinks about Cas doing this earlier, about doing this earlier to Cas. Wonders if Cas will still feel it sitting behind him in the Impala later, if he’ll squirm in discomfort and catch Dean’s eye in the mirror, if he’ll see Dean squirm and know it’s because—
“Hello, Dean.”
Dean jumps and turns around, his eyes snapping open. “Holy crap, Cas! Don’t do that! I could slip and fall. I’ve been there, died that way already.”
Shower curtain pulled out of the way, Cas looks at the tiles on the walls, the floor of the tub, then back at Dean. “What are you doing?”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Taking a shower,” he says. Duh.
Cas raises an eyebrow, eyes dropping down Dean’s arms.
It’s then that Dean realizes he’s still got the fingers of one hand tucked snug inside his own ass, his other hand soapy around his dick. He feels himself flush, but can’t seem to move. Clearing his throat, Cas’ eyes travel back to Dean’s face.
“It’s not what it—” Dean sighs, closes his eyes for a half a second to collect himself. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”
“Oh?”
“I mean, if it looks like I was engaging in some extracurricular activity while you were gone, then yeah.” He nods. “Exactly what it looks like.”
“I see. Would you like me to give you some privacy?” Cas asks, voice subtly amused.
“What I’d like is for you to join me.”
Cas eyes him, up and down, and Dean resists the urge to shiver, even under the hot water.
“Yes,” Cas says, like he was actually making a decision there. “I believe I would like that as well.”
The shower curtain falls shut when Cas backs into the bathroom. Dean shivers at the movement of cooler air across his skin and pulls his fingers from his ass, gives his cock one more squeeze before letting it go. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he lets it out in a rush before stooping to get the dropped soap. He works another lather up and returns the soap to its dish, enjoying the way the suds slide down chest, over his lower belly as his hands glide over skin. Heart hammering in his chest, Dean tries to focus on slowing it down.
He’s come more in the last twelve hours than he has in a while; he should not be turned on this much this quickly because Cas caught him—again, Dean’s mind supplies—with his hand on his dick.
Dean feels strangely off-center, embarrassed to have been caught…what, exactly? Getting off without Cas in the room? He’s an adult; if he wants to jack off in the shower on his own…thinking about Cas, well that’s his own business. If he wants to imagine Cas in the shower with him, well then he’ll…actually get that. He doesn’t need to think about these things hypothetically anymore; if he wants Cas, all he has to do is ask. Or crowd him up against something. And Cas won’t just let him, Cas will actively encourage it. They’ve passed awkward and unsure and are heading into…into…something Dean’s not quite sure how to name.
Cas doesn’t give him long to contemplate it, though.
The curtain moves back again and Cas is naked and joining him under the spray, water hitting his shoulder, leaving his skin glistening as it races down his arm and side. “And what is involved in taking a shower?” Cas asks, eyeing Dean’s hands as they move across the planes of his chest and stomach, head tilted to the side in appreciation.
It makes Dean feel a lot less jittery, and he grins; he’s got this under control. “Getting clean,” he says. “Mostly.” Hands on Cas’ shoulders, Dean turns him until he’s under the spray, hair wet and sticking in dark clumps against his forehead. Water trickles past his brow, over his cheekbones, along his jaw and down his throat. Dean follows its path with his fingers, Cas’ flat nipples rising under his touch. “Sometimes it’s for getting dirty, for different definitions of dirty.”
Cas tilts his head to watch as Dean’s thumbs edge down his sternum, trace the lines of his ribs. He looks up at Dean through water-spiked lashes, lips full and parted. Temptation itself. “And what you were doing…?”
“A little of both,” Dean says, sliding his hands down Cas’ stomach—which doesn’t twitch, not even a little, and makes Dean wonder if Cas is ticklish—to wrap around Cas’ hardening cock. Dean’s other hand at Cas’ hip holds them both steady under the spray. “No one says it can’t be fun.”
Leaning in, forcing Cas to move enough to meet him, Dean presses an almost chaste—soft, a hint of tongue—kiss to Cas’ mouth before pulling away. He strokes Cas once before letting go. “Turn around,” he says, pushing at Cas’ hip.
Cas shoots Dean a curious look, tinted with want and expectation, but does as he says, turning away from the water and offering Dean that pale expanse of skin without question.
Dean picks the soap up again, and when he turns back he can’t help but take a moment to stare at the clean line of Cas’ shoulders, the dip of his spine.
Reaching out with soap-filled hands, Dean follows the lines and dips, enjoys the way his tanned hands look on Cas’ skin, white bubbles sliding over both, down Cas’ back and toward his ass, sliding lower and over, disappearing between Cas’ cheeks. Begging Dean’s fingers to follow.
Dean pauses, hands flat on Cas’ skin.
“Dean?” Cas asks, voice quiet under the suddenly loud roar of the water.
There’s a lump in Dean’s throat that feels…that feels…too big, too much, and Dean can’t quite answer him, can’t quite say anything because suddenly, there it is, right in front of his face. Like the truth is tattooed between Cas’ shoulder blades and all Dean had to do was open his eyes and read the misleadingly vulnerable curve of Cas’ neck, the trusting bend of his shoulders, there even when Dean is acting weird.
This is Castiel naked and putting himself in Dean’s hands, in Dean’s care, and Dean can fantasize all he wants, can touch himself and think of Cas over him and around him, in him, but all of it will forever pale when compared with this. With this crazy thing they’re forging between them that shouldn’t work, but does.
His mind’s been skating around it all evening. Outside of keeping Sam safe, Dean’s never wanted something—never wanted someone—so much in his life.
Cas looks at him over his shoulder, eyes concerned, and Dean looks back and there is nothing he is ever going to want—nothing he is ever going to need—like this.
Swallowing, Dean tries a smile. To his surprise, he finds one at the ready. “Just washing your back, Cas,” he says, voice coming out heavier than he expects. He presses his thumbs into the small of Cas’ back. “I’ll wash your back, and then you can wash mine.”
There’s a twitch at the corner of Cas’ mouth that Dean can see. “That…sounds acceptable.”
Dean feels his smile widen. “I’m glad you approve.”
Cas turns away, and Dean fights the urge to tuck his nose into the space behind Cas’ ear.
“You would do it anyway,” Cas says, no real hint of anger or blame in his voice at all.
Dean chuckles. “True.”
And then—because what’s stopping him anyway?—he tucks his nose just there, Cas’ hair wet against his cheek, and turns his head enough to press his mouth to Cas’ neck.
Cas makes an inquisitive sound in the back of his throat—Dean feels it hum beneath his lips—and leans back into Dean’s touch.
Sucking at the skin beneath his mouth, Dean’s hands slide from Cas back to his hips. He nips at the mark he’s leaving on Cas’ neck, licks at the edges, catching stray rivulets of water from Cas’ hair with his tongue.
Cas squirms against him, ass brushing against Dean’s cock, and tilts his head to give Dean better access.
Dean appreciates the gesture, appreciates every single one. From the day Castiel gripped him tight to the night before when Cas carefully fingered him open, and every moment in between, frustrating and exhilarating both.
“Dean,” Cas says, voice breathy. “This does not feel like you washing my back.”
Grinning against Cas’ skin, Dean slides his hands over Cas’ hips, around to find Cas’ cock hard. “Oh?” he says, right hand wrapping around the shaft, left dipping down to cup Cas’ balls. “And you know all about taking showers now, do you?”
“Point taken,” Cas says. He drops his head forward, and Dean knows he’s watching Dean’s hands on him. “I will concede to your greater expertise.”
“About time,” Dean says, hand sliding up Cas’ cock. Pressing his fingers behind Cas’ balls, Cas’ widens his legs to make room for him. Dean appreciates it. Judging by the sound Cas makes as Dean’s fingers brush backward, so does Cas.
He leans back against Dean, hands on Dean’s forearms as Dean strokes him. With his chin pressed into Cas’ shoulder, Dean watches Cas’ cock slide through the circle of his fist. Changing his angle, Dean twists his wrist at the head, and Cas gives Dean more of his weight, hips swaying slightly, ass pushing back.
Dean’s reminded suddenly of the way Cas’ ass looked, soap bubbles sliding toward it…
“That is…” Cas’ throat clicks as he swallows. “That is still not my back, Dean.”
Dean squeezes him once, hands stilling. “Really?” he says. “My mistake.”
Cas’ hands tighten on his arms. “I did not say you should stop.”
“I’m not stopping,” Dean says, mouth migrating up Cas’ neck to nip at his earlobe. “I just had a better idea.”
He releases Cas, and Cas’ hands stutter across Dean’s skin as Dean pulls away. Finding Cas’ hands with his own, Dean presses them against the tiled wall at the far end of the tub. He moves Cas until he’s bent slightly at the waist, weight braced against the wall instead of Dean.
“Dean,” Cas says, “what are you—?”
“Stay there.”
Dean picks the bar of soap back up, works it between his hands until he’s worked up another good lather, the smell of it tickling his nose. Putting the soap back, he presses up close behind Cas, one hand steady on the small of his back, the other sliding around Cas’ hip, and leans in until he’s close enough to press his lips to Cas’ ear and say, “You’ll enjoy this.”
Cas shudders beneath his hands when Dean pulls back. This time when he watches the soap bubbles disappear between Cas’ cheeks, Dean’s fingers follow.
There’s a sharp inhalation of breath from Cas when Dean’s fingers slip between his cheeks and slide across his opening. Dean grins and rubs against it, around it, Cas’ pushing back against him.
“Dean,” Cas groans, “would you—”
Other hand sneaking around Cas’ front, Dean drops a kiss to Cas’ shoulder and takes Cas’ cock back in hand. “Would I what?”
“Would you”—Cas breathes—“do something already?”
Dean grins harder, grateful Cas can’t see him, and pushes forward with one soapy finger, feels Cas’ ass clench around it. “You mean like that?” He works his finger farther in, then out. In.
Cas’ head drops forward, the back of his neck bared. Dean’s not doing anything more than holding Cas, but he knows Cas is watching Dean’s hand on his cock, feeling him there and behind him. Within him.
“Yes,” Cas says, the word drawn out in a hiss as Dean adds another finger. “Like that.”
Dean presses in, feels Cas open around him, take him easily, readily. He remembers doing this the night before, his fingers and Cas’ skin slick with lube. Remembers Cas doing it to him in the early hours of the morning, opening Dean up, making a place for himself.
A place Dean wanted to tell him was already there, whenever he wanted.
Dean pulls out, presses forward, feels Cas gasp against him, hears his voice over the sound of the lukewarm water. No one besides Dean has ever done this to Cas before, no one has ever touched him like this, stroked pleasure from his skin and pleas for more from his lips.
He works Cas toward the edge—opens him with his fingers, cups him with his palm, nips and licks and kisses across his shoulders and neck, the curling ends of his wet hair tickling Dean’s nose—and then he stops and lets go, steps back, his own heart beating like a drum in his chest.
Cas’ voice, when he speaks, promises smiting. “Dean.”
Ignoring him, Dean angles the showerhead down so it’s not hitting them directly and then, hands on Cas’ hips, he lowers himself to his knees, his own cock hard and demanding.
He ignores it, too, in favor of spreading Cas’ cheeks—pale and round, the perfect fit in the palms of his hands—and following the path his fingers took with his tongue.
A shuddering breath above him, Cas’ fingers squeak against the tiles.
Dean’s never done this before; he doesn’t even know where the thought came from, only that he’d looked down at Cas’ cock sliding through his fist, felt Cas’ ass pressed against him, and needed…something. Needed to get his mouth on Cas, get his mouth everywhere on Cas. Needed to know what Cas felt like against his tongue, his lips, when he already knew what Cas felt like around his fingers, his cock.
Cas’ skin doesn’t taste like much beneath his mouth, just soap and water and skin. But when he spreads Cas’ cheeks farther, feels Cas’ hole flutter against his tongue, and delves deeper, Dean thinks he can taste Cas, heaven-sent and earth-bound.
Dean’s, given and claimed.
Cas lurches forward, and Dean loses his balance, pulls away to find Cas leaning heavily against the wall, forearm beneath his forehead. Dean can see his ribs expand and contract with every breath, rapid and greedy.
“Hey,” Dean says, surprised by the sound of his own voice. “You okay?”
Cas doesn’t answer for a moment. Worry starts to creep up on Dean, past the fuck yeah, I did that he’s been feeling, when Cas reaches back with the arm he’s not leaning against and presses his hand over Dean’s still on Cas’ ass.
“I am…I…” He sounds lost, wrecked, drifting somewhere out at sea, and Dean goes back to feeling smug because that is definitely not the sound of someone who isn’t enjoying themselves. “Yes,” Cas settles on.
“You sure?”
He presses Dean’s hand harder. “Are you going to finish what you started?”
Dean grins, wide and wild. “Oh, Cas,” he says. “I always finish what I start.”
He presses his teeth briefly to the curve of a cheek before diving back in, finding his place right where he left it.
Cas squirms beneath his mouth, hips moving, looking for more or less or—
“There. Yes, Dean, just—”
Dean feels Cas’ hand leave his, can tell by the sound just under that of the shower, by the movement just out of his vision, that Cas has moved it to his own cock, that he’s jerking off as Dean licks and slides and thrusts into him.
His jaw begins to ache, and he’s going to have a cramp in his tongue, but Dean’s not stopping. No, he’s not stopping until Cas…until Cas…
Cas shudders against him, clenches around him, comes with a shout and a groan and Dean’s name.
One hand still on Cas’ ass, Dean wraps the other around his dick and pulls—one, two, three—coming against the floor of the tub and Cas’ feet.
He stays there awhile, leaning against Cas leaning against the wall, and catches his breath, waits for his heart to slow down.
His knees are going to kill him when he stands up, he’s sure. He can’t bring himself to care.
The water hitting his feet is getting pretty chilly, so Dean sits back, can’t help but press one more smacking kiss to the lily-white ass before him, and levers himself up. Turning the knob as far to hot as it will go, he hopes there’s a little something left. He’d rather not completely freeze his balls off.
When Dean glances at him, Cas is watching him over his shoulder. He turns as Dean adjusts the showerhead. The water’s not exactly warm, but it’s not exactly arctic either.
“That was...an unconventional way to wash my back,” Cas says.
Dean rinses off quickly before it gets cold enough to make him shiver. He’s got goose bumps, but those might be from the speculative look Cas is shooting him as much as from the temperature of the water.
Reaching up, Dean angles the shower so it hits Cas. He barely seems to notice, just looks down and watches his front get soaked—it’s a good view, Dean’s got to admit—for a moment before running his hands over his skin, rinsing any traces of come away.
“Yeah,” he says. “But you liked it.”
Cas looks up at him through his eyelashes like Dean’s slow. “Yes.”
Dean is not blushing, Dean is absolutely not blushing. “Well then,” he says, and shuts the shower off with a flick of his wrist. He pulls the curtain open and steps out onto the bathmat. Grabbing a towel, Dean dries himself off quickly before turning to find Cas standing beside him. He’d say something about personal space, but that’s kind of a moot point. He grabs another towel and hands it to him.
Cas stares at it.
Dean chuckles and drops his own on the floor, taking the other back. He tosses it over Cas’ head and ruffles his hair. “Where were you earlier?” he asks.
Cas’ voice comes out slightly muffled by the towel. “I thought you would appreciate breakfast in bed.”
Dean pauses, hands going still. Cas looks out at him from the folds of towel. “Wait,” Dean says. “You brought me breakfast in bed?”
Cas’ brow furrows. He’s dripping on the floor. “Was that…wrong of me?”
The smile Dean’s fighting threatens to break his face. “No,” he says. “No, Cas. That’s…” perfect “…awesome. I’m starving.”
Cas smiles back at him, warm and happy and pleased, and Dean wants to kiss him, but his mouth has just been, well, occupied elsewhere and—
He doesn’t have to worry about it because Cas makes the decision for him, mouth pressed against Dean’s firmly, without any hesitation.
Dean’s fingers tighten in the towel still wrapped around Cas’ neck.
His knees are sore and his ass aches, but he’s got Cas naked and wet against him. There’s apparently breakfast in the other room. He’s happy.
It’s a good feeling. Dean could get used to this.
He could get used to Cas joining him in the shower, used to Cas bringing him food. Used to Cas’ hands on him, Cas’ skin against him, Cas’ mouth and fingers marking him. Cas’ shoulders and thighs, knees and elbows, heels and toes, his chest and stomach, dick and balls and hips and ass all naked in Dean’s bed, between Dean’s sheets.
He could get used to Cas in the backseat of the Impala or riding shotgun when Sam’s following a lead. Cas arguing with them about the best course of action, arguing with Bobby and Sam about this translation or the next.
And later, after they’ve eaten—he’s going to make Cas try a little of whatever he brought—and cleaned up, met up with Sam, they’ll drive away. Stop somewhere for a bite to eat. When Dean gets out of the car and stretches, he’ll flinch at the twinge in his backside—a barely there, microscopic flinch—and Cas will catch it and meet Dean’s eyes and he will know exactly what is on Dean’s mind.
Cas’ eyes will burn across the asphalt.
Sam will pause, wondering what the hold up is until he notices the look passing between them. He'll roll his eyes and mutter something about getting it out of their systems already as he heads into the diner. And Dean will look at Cas, at the relaxed line of his shoulders, the amused curve of his mouth, and feel smug. I did that, he'll think before slinging an arm around Cas' shoulders and following Sam inside.
Dean/Castiel
NC-17
4204
No spoilers. Just porn. Fifth in what I like to call my Apocalypse, What Apocalypse? series. Follows But Soon Again.
Cas catches Dean red-handed in the shower.
Contains rimming, among other things. Look, they're finally in a shower! Massive thanks to
olivelavonne, mclachlan, and ginnith.The next time Dean wakes up, it’s morning. He stretches, feels the burn of muscle that means he’s been well and thoroughly fucked, and grins into his pillow. Rolling over, he says, “Morning, Ca—”
Except Cas isn’t there. There is a distinct Cas-shaped emptiness next to him on the bed.
Huh. Dean shifts his weight up onto one elbow and takes in the room. Cas isn’t anywhere, none of Cas’ things are either. There’s something niggling at the back of Dean’s brain, though, something...
He vaguely remembers Cas leaning over him earlier, hand warm on Dean’s shoulder as he gave it a brief, hard squeeze, voice low in Dean’s ear. “I will return shortly, Dean,” Cas had said. Dean’s not sure how long ago that was, but he’s got no doubt Cas will return.
Shrugging it off, he slides his legs over the side of the bed, sitting gingerly for a moment in order to regain his equilibrium. His knees ache a little and his ass is definitely sore, but yeah, it’s a good feeling. It’s a good morning, even if Cas doesn’t happen to be there at the moment.
Stretching again at the side of the bed, Dean’s skin feels itchy in patches, dry and tight where come and lube didn’t quite get cleaned away in their lazy, boneless wipe-downs. If Cas is gone, he might as well clean up a little. Wash it all away so they can do it again later.
Dean stands and pads naked to the bathroom, hand scratching idly at his stomach as he flips on the light. He catches sight of himself in the mirror—hair disheveled, cheeks pink with stubble burn, marks on his jaw and neck, his arms; all of it Cas’ doing—and can’t help the grin that appears. It’s big and goofy, undeniably happy, clearly well-laid; he’d be embarrassed by it, except there’s no one around to see it.
Shaking his head at his reflection, Dean thinks, You’re going soft, Winchester, which naturally makes him think about just how not soft things were the night before.
After relieving himself, Dean pushes the shower curtain out of the way and leans down, turning the tap on before switching it over to run the shower. He steps in and sighs, tilting his head back under the hot spray, as the water beats down on his shoulders, sluicing over and across his skin. Dean feels sweat and come—his and Cas’—wash away.
He stands there a minute, lets the water run over him before reaching for the soap, rubbing it into a lather between his hands before running them over his chest. As he soaps himself up, he lets his mind wander to the night before, to Cas’ eagerness and desire, the way he’d watch Dean and open for him, let Dean in. He remembers thinking how different what they had was from everything that had come before. In the light of day, it’s almost overwhelming; Dean’s got Cas hook, line, and sinker.
And Cas has him.
He wonders if Cas knows that. He probably does. Dean hopes he does.
Dean brushes soapy fingers across his nipples and thinks of Cas’ fingers there and everywhere, caressing and teasing, Cas’ hands and mouth on him, touching and marking, pulling pleasure from him like taffy, slow and sticky and sweet. With his eyes closed, the hands against his skin could be Cas’. Dean enjoys thinking about that, enjoys the idea of Cas pressed behind him, smoothing hands down his chest and belly, soap bubbles leading the way to his cock as Cas’ hands follow, one slipping down to cup his balls while the other wraps around the base of his cock and—
The thud of the soap slipping out of Dean’s hand and hitting the bottom of the tub makes the Cas in Dean’s head disappear as effectively as the real Cas ever does. Dean sighs and bends to pick it up, feeling the pull and burn of muscle in his thighs and ass, his lower back. Straightening, soap in hand, he can’t help but reach back, slide a curious finger between his cheeks, against his entrance, feel how loose he still is, how sore. Finds he really likes the reminder. He wonders if Cas still feels it, too, if Cas can. Hopes Cas does; hopes Cas feels Dean as much as Dean feels him.
Pushing forward, Dean shudders a little as his finger breaches his ass. He drops the soap again, ignoring the dully ringing thud as it hits the porcelain in favor of wrapping his soapy hand around his dick, fingers brushing against his balls. He pushes back against his finger, adds another, thinks about Cas doing this earlier, about doing this earlier to Cas. Wonders if Cas will still feel it sitting behind him in the Impala later, if he’ll squirm in discomfort and catch Dean’s eye in the mirror, if he’ll see Dean squirm and know it’s because—
“Hello, Dean.”
Dean jumps and turns around, his eyes snapping open. “Holy crap, Cas! Don’t do that! I could slip and fall. I’ve been there, died that way already.”
Shower curtain pulled out of the way, Cas looks at the tiles on the walls, the floor of the tub, then back at Dean. “What are you doing?”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Taking a shower,” he says. Duh.
Cas raises an eyebrow, eyes dropping down Dean’s arms.
It’s then that Dean realizes he’s still got the fingers of one hand tucked snug inside his own ass, his other hand soapy around his dick. He feels himself flush, but can’t seem to move. Clearing his throat, Cas’ eyes travel back to Dean’s face.
“It’s not what it—” Dean sighs, closes his eyes for a half a second to collect himself. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”
“Oh?”
“I mean, if it looks like I was engaging in some extracurricular activity while you were gone, then yeah.” He nods. “Exactly what it looks like.”
“I see. Would you like me to give you some privacy?” Cas asks, voice subtly amused.
“What I’d like is for you to join me.”
Cas eyes him, up and down, and Dean resists the urge to shiver, even under the hot water.
“Yes,” Cas says, like he was actually making a decision there. “I believe I would like that as well.”
The shower curtain falls shut when Cas backs into the bathroom. Dean shivers at the movement of cooler air across his skin and pulls his fingers from his ass, gives his cock one more squeeze before letting it go. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he lets it out in a rush before stooping to get the dropped soap. He works another lather up and returns the soap to its dish, enjoying the way the suds slide down chest, over his lower belly as his hands glide over skin. Heart hammering in his chest, Dean tries to focus on slowing it down.
He’s come more in the last twelve hours than he has in a while; he should not be turned on this much this quickly because Cas caught him—again, Dean’s mind supplies—with his hand on his dick.
Dean feels strangely off-center, embarrassed to have been caught…what, exactly? Getting off without Cas in the room? He’s an adult; if he wants to jack off in the shower on his own…thinking about Cas, well that’s his own business. If he wants to imagine Cas in the shower with him, well then he’ll…actually get that. He doesn’t need to think about these things hypothetically anymore; if he wants Cas, all he has to do is ask. Or crowd him up against something. And Cas won’t just let him, Cas will actively encourage it. They’ve passed awkward and unsure and are heading into…into…something Dean’s not quite sure how to name.
Cas doesn’t give him long to contemplate it, though.
The curtain moves back again and Cas is naked and joining him under the spray, water hitting his shoulder, leaving his skin glistening as it races down his arm and side. “And what is involved in taking a shower?” Cas asks, eyeing Dean’s hands as they move across the planes of his chest and stomach, head tilted to the side in appreciation.
It makes Dean feel a lot less jittery, and he grins; he’s got this under control. “Getting clean,” he says. “Mostly.” Hands on Cas’ shoulders, Dean turns him until he’s under the spray, hair wet and sticking in dark clumps against his forehead. Water trickles past his brow, over his cheekbones, along his jaw and down his throat. Dean follows its path with his fingers, Cas’ flat nipples rising under his touch. “Sometimes it’s for getting dirty, for different definitions of dirty.”
Cas tilts his head to watch as Dean’s thumbs edge down his sternum, trace the lines of his ribs. He looks up at Dean through water-spiked lashes, lips full and parted. Temptation itself. “And what you were doing…?”
“A little of both,” Dean says, sliding his hands down Cas’ stomach—which doesn’t twitch, not even a little, and makes Dean wonder if Cas is ticklish—to wrap around Cas’ hardening cock. Dean’s other hand at Cas’ hip holds them both steady under the spray. “No one says it can’t be fun.”
Leaning in, forcing Cas to move enough to meet him, Dean presses an almost chaste—soft, a hint of tongue—kiss to Cas’ mouth before pulling away. He strokes Cas once before letting go. “Turn around,” he says, pushing at Cas’ hip.
Cas shoots Dean a curious look, tinted with want and expectation, but does as he says, turning away from the water and offering Dean that pale expanse of skin without question.
Dean picks the soap up again, and when he turns back he can’t help but take a moment to stare at the clean line of Cas’ shoulders, the dip of his spine.
Reaching out with soap-filled hands, Dean follows the lines and dips, enjoys the way his tanned hands look on Cas’ skin, white bubbles sliding over both, down Cas’ back and toward his ass, sliding lower and over, disappearing between Cas’ cheeks. Begging Dean’s fingers to follow.
Dean pauses, hands flat on Cas’ skin.
“Dean?” Cas asks, voice quiet under the suddenly loud roar of the water.
There’s a lump in Dean’s throat that feels…that feels…too big, too much, and Dean can’t quite answer him, can’t quite say anything because suddenly, there it is, right in front of his face. Like the truth is tattooed between Cas’ shoulder blades and all Dean had to do was open his eyes and read the misleadingly vulnerable curve of Cas’ neck, the trusting bend of his shoulders, there even when Dean is acting weird.
This is Castiel naked and putting himself in Dean’s hands, in Dean’s care, and Dean can fantasize all he wants, can touch himself and think of Cas over him and around him, in him, but all of it will forever pale when compared with this. With this crazy thing they’re forging between them that shouldn’t work, but does.
His mind’s been skating around it all evening. Outside of keeping Sam safe, Dean’s never wanted something—never wanted someone—so much in his life.
Cas looks at him over his shoulder, eyes concerned, and Dean looks back and there is nothing he is ever going to want—nothing he is ever going to need—like this.
Swallowing, Dean tries a smile. To his surprise, he finds one at the ready. “Just washing your back, Cas,” he says, voice coming out heavier than he expects. He presses his thumbs into the small of Cas’ back. “I’ll wash your back, and then you can wash mine.”
There’s a twitch at the corner of Cas’ mouth that Dean can see. “That…sounds acceptable.”
Dean feels his smile widen. “I’m glad you approve.”
Cas turns away, and Dean fights the urge to tuck his nose into the space behind Cas’ ear.
“You would do it anyway,” Cas says, no real hint of anger or blame in his voice at all.
Dean chuckles. “True.”
And then—because what’s stopping him anyway?—he tucks his nose just there, Cas’ hair wet against his cheek, and turns his head enough to press his mouth to Cas’ neck.
Cas makes an inquisitive sound in the back of his throat—Dean feels it hum beneath his lips—and leans back into Dean’s touch.
Sucking at the skin beneath his mouth, Dean’s hands slide from Cas back to his hips. He nips at the mark he’s leaving on Cas’ neck, licks at the edges, catching stray rivulets of water from Cas’ hair with his tongue.
Cas squirms against him, ass brushing against Dean’s cock, and tilts his head to give Dean better access.
Dean appreciates the gesture, appreciates every single one. From the day Castiel gripped him tight to the night before when Cas carefully fingered him open, and every moment in between, frustrating and exhilarating both.
“Dean,” Cas says, voice breathy. “This does not feel like you washing my back.”
Grinning against Cas’ skin, Dean slides his hands over Cas’ hips, around to find Cas’ cock hard. “Oh?” he says, right hand wrapping around the shaft, left dipping down to cup Cas’ balls. “And you know all about taking showers now, do you?”
“Point taken,” Cas says. He drops his head forward, and Dean knows he’s watching Dean’s hands on him. “I will concede to your greater expertise.”
“About time,” Dean says, hand sliding up Cas’ cock. Pressing his fingers behind Cas’ balls, Cas’ widens his legs to make room for him. Dean appreciates it. Judging by the sound Cas makes as Dean’s fingers brush backward, so does Cas.
He leans back against Dean, hands on Dean’s forearms as Dean strokes him. With his chin pressed into Cas’ shoulder, Dean watches Cas’ cock slide through the circle of his fist. Changing his angle, Dean twists his wrist at the head, and Cas gives Dean more of his weight, hips swaying slightly, ass pushing back.
Dean’s reminded suddenly of the way Cas’ ass looked, soap bubbles sliding toward it…
“That is…” Cas’ throat clicks as he swallows. “That is still not my back, Dean.”
Dean squeezes him once, hands stilling. “Really?” he says. “My mistake.”
Cas’ hands tighten on his arms. “I did not say you should stop.”
“I’m not stopping,” Dean says, mouth migrating up Cas’ neck to nip at his earlobe. “I just had a better idea.”
He releases Cas, and Cas’ hands stutter across Dean’s skin as Dean pulls away. Finding Cas’ hands with his own, Dean presses them against the tiled wall at the far end of the tub. He moves Cas until he’s bent slightly at the waist, weight braced against the wall instead of Dean.
“Dean,” Cas says, “what are you—?”
“Stay there.”
Dean picks the bar of soap back up, works it between his hands until he’s worked up another good lather, the smell of it tickling his nose. Putting the soap back, he presses up close behind Cas, one hand steady on the small of his back, the other sliding around Cas’ hip, and leans in until he’s close enough to press his lips to Cas’ ear and say, “You’ll enjoy this.”
Cas shudders beneath his hands when Dean pulls back. This time when he watches the soap bubbles disappear between Cas’ cheeks, Dean’s fingers follow.
There’s a sharp inhalation of breath from Cas when Dean’s fingers slip between his cheeks and slide across his opening. Dean grins and rubs against it, around it, Cas’ pushing back against him.
“Dean,” Cas groans, “would you—”
Other hand sneaking around Cas’ front, Dean drops a kiss to Cas’ shoulder and takes Cas’ cock back in hand. “Would I what?”
“Would you”—Cas breathes—“do something already?”
Dean grins harder, grateful Cas can’t see him, and pushes forward with one soapy finger, feels Cas’ ass clench around it. “You mean like that?” He works his finger farther in, then out. In.
Cas’ head drops forward, the back of his neck bared. Dean’s not doing anything more than holding Cas, but he knows Cas is watching Dean’s hand on his cock, feeling him there and behind him. Within him.
“Yes,” Cas says, the word drawn out in a hiss as Dean adds another finger. “Like that.”
Dean presses in, feels Cas open around him, take him easily, readily. He remembers doing this the night before, his fingers and Cas’ skin slick with lube. Remembers Cas doing it to him in the early hours of the morning, opening Dean up, making a place for himself.
A place Dean wanted to tell him was already there, whenever he wanted.
Dean pulls out, presses forward, feels Cas gasp against him, hears his voice over the sound of the lukewarm water. No one besides Dean has ever done this to Cas before, no one has ever touched him like this, stroked pleasure from his skin and pleas for more from his lips.
He works Cas toward the edge—opens him with his fingers, cups him with his palm, nips and licks and kisses across his shoulders and neck, the curling ends of his wet hair tickling Dean’s nose—and then he stops and lets go, steps back, his own heart beating like a drum in his chest.
Cas’ voice, when he speaks, promises smiting. “Dean.”
Ignoring him, Dean angles the showerhead down so it’s not hitting them directly and then, hands on Cas’ hips, he lowers himself to his knees, his own cock hard and demanding.
He ignores it, too, in favor of spreading Cas’ cheeks—pale and round, the perfect fit in the palms of his hands—and following the path his fingers took with his tongue.
A shuddering breath above him, Cas’ fingers squeak against the tiles.
Dean’s never done this before; he doesn’t even know where the thought came from, only that he’d looked down at Cas’ cock sliding through his fist, felt Cas’ ass pressed against him, and needed…something. Needed to get his mouth on Cas, get his mouth everywhere on Cas. Needed to know what Cas felt like against his tongue, his lips, when he already knew what Cas felt like around his fingers, his cock.
Cas’ skin doesn’t taste like much beneath his mouth, just soap and water and skin. But when he spreads Cas’ cheeks farther, feels Cas’ hole flutter against his tongue, and delves deeper, Dean thinks he can taste Cas, heaven-sent and earth-bound.
Dean’s, given and claimed.
Cas lurches forward, and Dean loses his balance, pulls away to find Cas leaning heavily against the wall, forearm beneath his forehead. Dean can see his ribs expand and contract with every breath, rapid and greedy.
“Hey,” Dean says, surprised by the sound of his own voice. “You okay?”
Cas doesn’t answer for a moment. Worry starts to creep up on Dean, past the fuck yeah, I did that he’s been feeling, when Cas reaches back with the arm he’s not leaning against and presses his hand over Dean’s still on Cas’ ass.
“I am…I…” He sounds lost, wrecked, drifting somewhere out at sea, and Dean goes back to feeling smug because that is definitely not the sound of someone who isn’t enjoying themselves. “Yes,” Cas settles on.
“You sure?”
He presses Dean’s hand harder. “Are you going to finish what you started?”
Dean grins, wide and wild. “Oh, Cas,” he says. “I always finish what I start.”
He presses his teeth briefly to the curve of a cheek before diving back in, finding his place right where he left it.
Cas squirms beneath his mouth, hips moving, looking for more or less or—
“There. Yes, Dean, just—”
Dean feels Cas’ hand leave his, can tell by the sound just under that of the shower, by the movement just out of his vision, that Cas has moved it to his own cock, that he’s jerking off as Dean licks and slides and thrusts into him.
His jaw begins to ache, and he’s going to have a cramp in his tongue, but Dean’s not stopping. No, he’s not stopping until Cas…until Cas…
Cas shudders against him, clenches around him, comes with a shout and a groan and Dean’s name.
One hand still on Cas’ ass, Dean wraps the other around his dick and pulls—one, two, three—coming against the floor of the tub and Cas’ feet.
He stays there awhile, leaning against Cas leaning against the wall, and catches his breath, waits for his heart to slow down.
His knees are going to kill him when he stands up, he’s sure. He can’t bring himself to care.
The water hitting his feet is getting pretty chilly, so Dean sits back, can’t help but press one more smacking kiss to the lily-white ass before him, and levers himself up. Turning the knob as far to hot as it will go, he hopes there’s a little something left. He’d rather not completely freeze his balls off.
When Dean glances at him, Cas is watching him over his shoulder. He turns as Dean adjusts the showerhead. The water’s not exactly warm, but it’s not exactly arctic either.
“That was...an unconventional way to wash my back,” Cas says.
Dean rinses off quickly before it gets cold enough to make him shiver. He’s got goose bumps, but those might be from the speculative look Cas is shooting him as much as from the temperature of the water.
Reaching up, Dean angles the shower so it hits Cas. He barely seems to notice, just looks down and watches his front get soaked—it’s a good view, Dean’s got to admit—for a moment before running his hands over his skin, rinsing any traces of come away.
“Yeah,” he says. “But you liked it.”
Cas looks up at him through his eyelashes like Dean’s slow. “Yes.”
Dean is not blushing, Dean is absolutely not blushing. “Well then,” he says, and shuts the shower off with a flick of his wrist. He pulls the curtain open and steps out onto the bathmat. Grabbing a towel, Dean dries himself off quickly before turning to find Cas standing beside him. He’d say something about personal space, but that’s kind of a moot point. He grabs another towel and hands it to him.
Cas stares at it.
Dean chuckles and drops his own on the floor, taking the other back. He tosses it over Cas’ head and ruffles his hair. “Where were you earlier?” he asks.
Cas’ voice comes out slightly muffled by the towel. “I thought you would appreciate breakfast in bed.”
Dean pauses, hands going still. Cas looks out at him from the folds of towel. “Wait,” Dean says. “You brought me breakfast in bed?”
Cas’ brow furrows. He’s dripping on the floor. “Was that…wrong of me?”
The smile Dean’s fighting threatens to break his face. “No,” he says. “No, Cas. That’s…” perfect “…awesome. I’m starving.”
Cas smiles back at him, warm and happy and pleased, and Dean wants to kiss him, but his mouth has just been, well, occupied elsewhere and—
He doesn’t have to worry about it because Cas makes the decision for him, mouth pressed against Dean’s firmly, without any hesitation.
Dean’s fingers tighten in the towel still wrapped around Cas’ neck.
His knees are sore and his ass aches, but he’s got Cas naked and wet against him. There’s apparently breakfast in the other room. He’s happy.
It’s a good feeling. Dean could get used to this.
He could get used to Cas joining him in the shower, used to Cas bringing him food. Used to Cas’ hands on him, Cas’ skin against him, Cas’ mouth and fingers marking him. Cas’ shoulders and thighs, knees and elbows, heels and toes, his chest and stomach, dick and balls and hips and ass all naked in Dean’s bed, between Dean’s sheets.
He could get used to Cas in the backseat of the Impala or riding shotgun when Sam’s following a lead. Cas arguing with them about the best course of action, arguing with Bobby and Sam about this translation or the next.
And later, after they’ve eaten—he’s going to make Cas try a little of whatever he brought—and cleaned up, met up with Sam, they’ll drive away. Stop somewhere for a bite to eat. When Dean gets out of the car and stretches, he’ll flinch at the twinge in his backside—a barely there, microscopic flinch—and Cas will catch it and meet Dean’s eyes and he will know exactly what is on Dean’s mind.
Cas’ eyes will burn across the asphalt.
Sam will pause, wondering what the hold up is until he notices the look passing between them. He'll roll his eyes and mutter something about getting it out of their systems already as he heads into the diner. And Dean will look at Cas, at the relaxed line of his shoulders, the amused curve of his mouth, and feel smug. I did that, he'll think before slinging an arm around Cas' shoulders and following Sam inside.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-17 09:23 am (UTC)oh, oh oh! yes, this! When Dean got the lump in his throat? So did I.
And then taking Cas apart, like that? Oh yes please. That Cas kisses him afterwards? UNF.
i'll be.. oh hell, i doubt i'll even make it to my bunk...
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 05:31 am (UTC)It wasn't even supposed to happen like that, but then they were in the shower and...suddenly that was what they wanted. Apparently I couldn't refuse them. ;)
I am so, so happy that this worked for you!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-17 09:25 am (UTC)♥ ♥ ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 05:33 am (UTC)I'm so happy you liked it! Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-17 01:56 pm (UTC)That moment, when Dean gets the lump in his throat, was absolute perfection. I love moments like that in your stories, because it just elevates them to a whole other level.
Of course, moments like that don't detract from the hotness, because HOLY FUCK that was hot. Have I mentioned I love this series?
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 05:36 am (UTC)Oh, I am just so happy you think so! I really wanted it to work and worried it wouldn't. I guess I worry too much?
I'm thrilled you liked it. Thank you! <3
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-17 06:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 05:39 am (UTC)Yes, that! I wanted that. Because I like it when they're happy and they deserve to be happy and have some of that giddiness and expectation for later. Um, which I guess is sort of the point of this 'verse, what with the AWA thing. ;)
I'm so happy this worked for you. Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-17 10:30 pm (UTC)This fic has managed to make me so damn happy and sad and happy all at once that I think I might be in love with it. Oh Dean. This is officially my canon now. Beautiful, sexy as hell, and just so damn loving.
LOVE. Just love it.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 06:32 am (UTC)I am so glad you liked it! Thank you so much!
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-17 11:20 pm (UTC)I love the details about the boneless wipedowns and how Dean was itchy and sore. It was dirty without being degrading in any way. I loved it.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 07:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-17 11:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 07:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-17 11:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 07:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-18 12:02 am (UTC)I need to go . . . somewhere . . . do . . . something . . . wait, who am I again? Where am I? THE HOTNESS HAS KILLED ALL REMAINING BRAIN CELLS, MY BRAIN IS ONLY GOOD FOR PR0N NOW.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 07:26 pm (UTC)Is that really such a bad thing? Maybe I'm biased. It's the only thing my brain is good for. ;)
I'm so, so happy you liked this. Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-18 12:06 am (UTC)I was so fatigued and tired before reading this...but my gawd not anymore. HOT AND BOTHERED RN. ~FANSELF~
It's like each piece you do, you just manage to turn it up a few dozen notches in the HAWWWWTNESS department...nghhhh.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 09:09 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-18 12:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-20 05:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-18 02:26 am (UTC)PERFECT END OF THE NIGHT READ BEFORE BED! I'll be in my bunk...forever
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-20 05:47 am (UTC)Hee!
Season 6: Taking Dean and Cas between the sheets. And in the shower. And against the Impala. And that one time behind the "You are now leaving Washington. Come again!" sign. (They do come again, btw. Over and over. ::nudge nudge:: )
Um. Yeah. That's a season I could get behind. ;)
I'm so glad you liked it!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-18 04:18 am (UTC)On top of that, I think the things that really got to me were Dean reveling in the physical after effects (the soreness and marks!) and then his anticipation of a future with Cas. Dean imagining the showers and breakfasts and everything they will do together in the future was sweet and awesome.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-20 05:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-18 07:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-20 05:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-18 08:23 am (UTC)Wow. Just... wow. For love of everything delicious and holy in that fucking-an-angel-in-the-ass kind of way, don't ever stop writing this pair.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-20 06:25 am (UTC)I'm so, so happy that you liked it. And I really do hope to keep writing the pairing. Even when writing drives me crazy, I still enjoy writing them.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-18 10:05 am (UTC)*dies*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-20 06:27 am (UTC);D
You know they will. Dean will feel them on his skin, recognize that stare from any distance.
And probably get hard from it. Which could be awkward in combat situations.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-18 10:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-20 06:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 12:28 am (UTC)Hot. Damn.
Some of the hottest porn out there, yet so tender without being overly schmoopy. I just. Wow. *dazed*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-20 06:30 am (UTC)Hee! I like that, I like that a lot. (Though, uh, sorry for destroying them?)
I'm thrilled you like it! Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 12:52 am (UTC)I loved that the hot sex wasn't all, though, that there was plenty of moments where Dean realised what he had with Cas, what all his own feelings and Cas' reactions meant.
Laura.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-20 06:31 am (UTC)LOL. I guess Dean will just have to educate him about the proper way to take a shower after this. Though, hmm, they'll probably get distracted. It might take more than one lesson. ;)
I'm so, so happy that this worked for you. Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-19 06:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-20 06:34 am (UTC)And god those two are hot!
Oh god, aren't they? It's seriously distracting.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-23 02:34 am (UTC)"Dean presses in, feels Cas open around him, take him easily, readily. He remembers doing this the night before, his fingers and Cas’ skin slick with lube. Remembers Cas doing it to him in the early hours of the morning, opening Dean up, making a place for himself.
A place Dean wanted to tell him was already there, whenever he wanted."
and
"Cas tilts his head to watch as Dean’s thumbs edge down his sternum, trace the lines of his ribs. He looks up at Dean through water-spiked lashes, lips full and parted. Temptation itself."
and
"There’s a lump in Dean’s throat that feels…that feels…too big, too much, and Dean can’t quite answer him, can’t quite say anything because suddenly, there it is, right in front of his face. Like the truth is tattooed between Cas’ shoulder blades and all Dean had to do was open his eyes and read the misleadingly vulnerable curve of Cas’ neck, the trusting bend of his shoulders, there even when Dean is acting weird.
This is Castiel naked and putting himself in Dean’s hands, in Dean’s care, and Dean can fantasize all he wants, can touch himself and think of Cas over him and around him, in him, but all of it will forever pale when compared with this. With this crazy thing they’re forging between them that shouldn’t work, but does."
Your writing is beyond amazing. Your details are so realistic, you can see and touch and hear and smell them. Thank you for writing this!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-24 06:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-01 07:37 pm (UTC)I just read all of these, and they are PERFECT.
With the hot, and the cute, and I am in love! :D
I love how you write. It's HOT, but it's MORE than that. There are all of these emotions, and it's DEAN and it's CAS. And it makes my heart swell, and then we're back to the HOT. haha.
Anyway, I really loved these (especially this one), and I can't wait for you to do more in this series! In the mean time I'll have to occupy myself with more of your fic. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-06 11:45 pm (UTC)And I am so glad you enjoyed this one since it took me ages to finish.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-07 05:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-11 11:10 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you enjoyed it. Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-11 05:55 pm (UTC)Wow, there were so many great moments. I love Dean's inner dialog so much. Does Castiel know what Dean is thinking?
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-18 09:13 pm (UTC)Does Castiel know what Dean is thinking?
That is an excellent question, and I hate to say that I'm not 100% sure. I think that more than actually knowing what Dean is thinking, Castiel is more likely very capable of sensing what's going on with Dean and within him.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-10-22 02:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-10-26 04:56 am (UTC)