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annundrielBetter Than
Dean/Castiel
NC-17
2917
No spoilers. Contains rimming and somnophilia.
Castiel worships Dean, asleep and awake.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
qthelights. Written last December. Many thanks to perfumaniac and cautionzombies for betaing and oddlyfamiliar for giving it a look. <3
“Do whatever you want,” Dean had said. “I’ll probably like it.” He’d kissed Castiel, long and deep and distracting. “And I’ll let you know if I don’t.”
Castiel had wanted to, had looked at Dean and wanted to try everything, but this was new and fragile. He had let Dean take control instead, followed Dean’s lead because anything else was too much. He’d been overwhelmed with want and need, his fingers stalling with indecision.
He’d lain with Dean afterward, felt the beating of their hearts slow, their sweat cool. He’d wanted more, wanted it again, wanted to touch and taste and feel Dean the way Dean had touched and tasted and felt him.
There’d been no time; Castiel had been too slow, called back to Heaven with a pull to his grace. With a kiss to Dean’s temple and one to Dean’s lips, he’d promised to return.
It takes hours, but Castiel keeps his word. Dean is asleep, completely oblivious when Castiel returns. Mostly on his stomach, Dean’s face is buried in the pillow, his arms wrapped tightly around it. The pillow is, Castiel is strangely pleased to note, the same pillow he himself used earlier. The rest of Dean is relaxed, legs spread, body loose. The sheet only comes up to Dean’s waist, falling gently over the curve of Dean’s ass. Castiel has never seen Dean so calm before, never so peaceful; even his mind is unplagued by unpleasant memories and all too real fears.
Castiel stands over Dean and watches him breathe, Dean’s ribs expanding and contracting with each inhale and exhale. If he were still in bed beside Dean, pressed against Dean’s naked back, he’d be able to feel that. Dean would be warm in his arms, soft and hard in delightfully confounding and contradictory ways.
Sliding his coat off, Castiel drapes it over the back of the nearest chair; his jacket follows. There’s no real need for him to undress this way, not when Dean isn’t watching, but Castiel takes the time to unknot his tie. He needs this distance, needs to ground himself in this slow, human ritual before he jumps in.
The tie joins the rest, Castiel’s fingers moving on to the buttons of his shirt, untucking it before continuing on to his belt, toeing off his shoes. He slips the shirt over his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor along with the rest, pants crumpling with a jangle of belt buckle. Ducking down, Castiel pulls his socks off before turning his attention back to Dean.
He’s still asleep, his body a temptation Castiel isn’t accustomed to. He’d wanted so much earlier and hadn’t known where to start or how to go about forging this new thing between the two of them. He’d been too nervous, too afraid of failure, too embarrassed to ask for or take what he wanted.
Too worried Dean would change his mind, would decide this was too much, and push him away.
Dean had said whatever Castiel wanted, though, and what Castiel wanted…what he wants is to see all of Dean again and again. He’s mapped the curve of Dean’s ribs with his hands, felt the rise of bone and muscle and tendon that are Dean’s shoulders, followed the lines of Dean’s thighs up and then down either leg. Castiel has pressed and measured and felt, cared for every inch of Dean’s skin, every hair and freckle and dip and divot.
But never in the way Castiel wants to now, never with Dean’s lungs gasping for breath, Dean’s tongue pressed against Castiel’s own quickened pulse. Never with Dean bright and burning and so alive against him, filled with so much humanity that it makes Castiel’s chest ache to look at him. He’s gotten close, has gotten Dean beside him, against him, over and around him. Dean’s held himself above Castiel, spine arching and thighs trembling, shuddered and shook and come apart.
Castiel wants to hold him down. He wants to touch and taste, explore every bit of Dean at his own pace, wants everything Dean has to give him, everything Dean wants to give him. He wants…he wants…
Reaching out, Castiel grasps the sheet with his fingers and pulls, slowly revealing the smooth curve of Dean’s ass before it falls to the back of his thighs, the vulnerable skin behind Dean’s knees. One of Dean’s calves twitches as Castiel draws the sheet lower, but otherwise Dean does not move.
In all of creation, in all of his eons and eons of existence, Castiel doesn’t think he’s ever met a being more beautiful, more finely made for all his sturdiness. Dean’s muscles and joints fit together perfectly—Castiel should know.
He can feel his own body reacting to the sight of Dean’s, his cock heavy between his legs, growing hard as his eyes travel the length of Dean’s naked skin. Kneeling at the end of the bed between Dean’s feet, Castiel pauses, watching the movement of Dean’s eyes behind the delicate skin of his eyelids. He knows that Dean is dreaming and that, for once, those dreams are pleasant. Crawling forward, Castiel hovers over Dean, feels the heat coming off of him. He leans down to press a kiss to the rise of Dean’s shoulder blade then follows the line of his shoulders to the other, dropping kisses as he goes.
Dean doesn’t move, doesn’t even twitch.
Castiel shifts lower, following the curve of Dean’s spine with his lips and tongue. There’s sweat and gun oil and Dean there, and Castiel chases the taste across Dean’s skin, finds it concentrated at the small of his back. He licks and kisses, sucking a mark against the curve of Dean’s waist that makes Dean rock against the mattress, his hips resettling as he groans. Castiel pulls away to blink up at him, but Dean only snuffles into the pillow.
There’s a part of Castiel that wishes Dean were awake, that wants to hear Dean’s voice saying his name like it’s the only word he knows, like it’s the only word that matters. He wants Dean to look at him with those eyes so green, so clear, wants to see them widen when he does something Dean doesn’t expect. Castiel is certain he knows more than Dean suspects when it comes to sex. Even if he doesn’t, the idea of Dean watching him makes Castiel’s blood zing.
Next time, Castiel thinks. Next time he’ll give Dean what he wants, he’ll take what he likes, and he’ll let Dean watch the whole thing. He’s trusted Dean with everything before; he can trust Dean with this.
Castiel slips farther back, a gentle hand on Dean’s thigh. His fingers brushing the bottom curve of Dean’s ass as he presses a kiss against one cheek. The stubble on his jaw rubs against Dean’s skin, and goose bumps appear, rising up as Castiel continues further down.
Changing his balance, Castiel puts more weight on his knees. He wants more freedom with his hands, wants to really touch and stroke and spread.
The hair on the back of Dean’s thighs tickles Castiel’s fingers. He runs a palm down Dean’s leg to the bend of a knee, drags it back up in the opposite direction, soaking in the heat of Dean’s skin, the feel of relaxed power beneath. He’s felt these legs on either side of him, felt these thighs under his hands as Dean raised and lowered himself on Castiel’s cock earlier.
Sitting up, Castiel glances up at Dean’s face as he slides his hands back to Dean’s ass. He rubs his thumbs across the pale skin there, over the cleft. The dark smudges of Dean’s eyelashes don’t so much as flutter and his breathing remains deep and steady. Castiel sighs and feels something in his chest swell, something large and hot and needy, an urge to cover Dean, protect him and keep him safe. It has little to do with the fact that Dean is his charge. Castiel has never felt this before, doubts very much that he will ever feel it again outside of Dean, outside of what he has with Dean. He thinks this might be what humans write stories about, what they kill to keep and die to protect.
He would kill for Dean. He would die for him. He’s done both.
Castiel’s heart thuds in his chest, a racing thrum beneath his skin. He loves Dean, loves him more than he thought it was possible to love a finite being.
He leans down and presses a kiss to the base of Dean’s spine, lingering there to breathe Dean’s skin, the traces of lubrication and sweat and Dean, of what Castiel himself left there not so very long ago. It’s a heady mix, one that Castiel has to chase to its source. Thumbs pressing inward, Castiel parts Dean’s cheeks, mouthing slowly between them, following the scent and taste until he’s right where he wants to be, tongue flickering across Dean’s opening, curious and wanting.
He licks Dean, presses the tip of his tongue in, breaching Dean’s body ever so slightly.
Dean makes a hitching noise in his sleep, a soft, breathless sound that pulls at that feeling inside of Castiel. He wants to hear Dean say his name in that tone, wants to see Dean look at him when he does.
He delves deeper, fingers spreading Dean farther, and Dean moves against the sheets, body twisting, resituating until his hips are flat against the mattress. Castiel pulls back to watch him; he can’t see it, but he’s sure Dean is hard, recognizes already that pleading sound in Dean’s voice even asleep. He smiles, follows the line of Dean’s spine back to his ass, already spread. Dean’s wet from Castiel’s mouth, pink from their activities earlier. Castiel’s cock twitches, a reminder. A suggestion.
He presses his thumb against Dean’s hole, watches Dean’s flesh open to him, wrap around him. He wants to feel Dean around him again.
Castiel’s thumb slides free and he leans over Dean, reaching for the lube on the nightstand. He remembers watching Dean use it earlier, pouring some on his fingers before reaching behind him to work them inside himself. He’d clutched at Castiel’s hand then, slicked up Castiel’s fingers and pulled them behind himself until Castiel was there, too, pressing inside Dean, hot and tight.
He pours lube on his fingers now, feels it warm against his skin before he traces Dean’s opening with his index finger and presses inside, follows it with another. Dean’s muscles clench around them and he shifts lazily. No matter how many times they do this—Castiel hopes many—and no matter how often he’s allowed to touch Dean like this—he hopes often—Castiel doesn’t think he will ever tire of watching Dean’s body, of feeling Dean’s body react to him.
Sliding his fingers out, Castiel watches the way Dean’s flesh seems loath to let him go. He presses back in with three fingers. Takes great pleasure in the way Dean’s body lets him in, the way Dean lets him in. He pushes forward, feels Dean open around him, slick and perfect, and can’t wait any longer, needs to feel Dean closing around his cock.
Pulling his fingers away, Castiel shifts his weight on his knees, changes his position. He takes hold of his cock, shuddering even at the touch of his own hand, and lines up, pressing forward slowly until its head breaches the muscles of Dean’s ass. One hand planted next to Dean’s shoulders, the other at the small of Dean’s back, Castiel pauses, groaning deep and low in his throat. The sensation is almost overwhelming, too much and not enough. His muscles shake and he wants to slip forward, wants to plunge himself deep within Dean until there’s no space left between them. There’s a danger of losing himself like this, but Dean’s already changed him irrevocably and Castiel is not afraid. Not anymore.
Castiel moves his hands and angles his hips, pushes forward, sinks into Dean like he was meant to be there. Maybe he was.
Leaning down, Castiel presses a kiss to the back of Dean’s neck, nuzzles at his hair. He breathes in and pulls his hips back carefully, pressing forward slowly as he tucks his nose behind Dean’s ear.
Dean moans, his ass pressing back into Castiel, slow and easy, so easy. Castiel had no idea it could be this easy.
Dean tenses beneath him, body tightening impossibly around Castiel’s cock.
“Cas?” Dean’s voice is thick with sleep, and he slurs the edges of Castiel’s name.
Castiel swallows and looks up, finds Dean’s eyes half-open, heavy-lidded and dark. He wants so badly to keep going, to keep moving, and Dean had said…he’d said whatever you want...He wants this. He wants Dean every way and any way. He won’t apologize for it, or hide from it.
“You were expecting someone else?” Castiel asks, lips brushing Dean’s neck, making Dean shudder.
“No,” Dean answers, his voice trembling. There’s a roughness there that’s from more than just disuse, Castiel is sure of this. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. Certainly wasn’t expecting this.”
Castiel frowns and worries that perhaps he has crossed a line, that he’s done something wrong. He moves to pull back, but Dean stops him, unwrapping an arm from around the pillow to reach behind him and grip Castiel’s hip, firm and commanding.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t like it.” His body relaxes beneath Castiel’s, muscles flexing around him. “Feels good. Keep going.”
“Are you—“
Dean’s fingers are hard on Castiel’s skin. “Keep. Going.”
Castiel breathes a sigh and does as Dean commands. He keeps it slow at first, almost gentle. He wants to savor this time he has with Dean, wants to drink it up now so he never forgets it later. Dean melts into the sheets beneath them, pliant and mostly silent, breath gusting against the pillows. It’s a marked change from earlier, when the tension between them was strung tight, each movement, each breath ratcheting them higher, pulling them tighter until there was nothing for it to do but snap, their bodies arching and pulsing until they collapsed together, sweaty and spent.
This is nowhere near that desperation, that furor, but it’s just as good, just as amazing. More so, perhaps, because Dean has put himself in Castiel’s hands, trusts him with his life and body and soul. Dean is his as surely as he is Dean’s.
“Yes,” Dean groans, voice half-muffled in the pillows. “Yes, Cas. I’m yours, I’m—“
Castiel takes Dean’s mouth with his own. It’s not easy at this angle, Dean’s head turned awkwardly to the side. It’s wet and open and sloppy, and Castiel can’t really kiss Dean like he wants to, can’t really throw himself into it like he aches to, but it works. They make it work.
Next time, he thinks, they will go back to doing this face to face.
He mouths at Dean's jaw, follows the line of it to downward. Nips at the curve of Dean's shoulder, that solid slope that leads from Dean's neck, before biting down. It makes Dean’s hips jerk and his voice break and Castiel quickens his pace. He twists his hips and pushes harder into Dean, faster. Sweat covers Castiel’s skin, covers Dean’s, and they slide against each other, sheets bunching as they pant together, as they groan and moan and fuck.
Castiel’s orgasm hits him out of nowhere, a bolt from the blue, and he fills Dean up, hips stuttering. Dean pushes back frantically, clenching around him, Castiel’s name a strangled, pleasure-shot sound on his lips.
That name on those lips in that moment; it’s the best sound in Creation.
Castiel doesn’t need sleep, or even rest, really, but his eyelids droop as he catches his breath against Dean’s back, his limbs heavy. He doesn’t wish to move, only wants to lie against Dean, with Dean. Humans have greater resources , more self-control than any of them realized if they know this—these feelings, this moment, this—exists and they can still go about their lives.
“Fuck,” Dean breathes.
Castiel presses his mouth to the new mark on Dean’s skin. “My thoughts exactly.”
Dean chuckles. The feeling of his happiness so close to Castiel is intriguing; Castiel has the bizarre desire to press himself closer, wrap himself in that low rolling sound.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Dean says, voice rumbling. Castiel can feel that, too; it makes his skin tingle. “But you’re getting kind of heavy.”
It was only a matter of time, Castiel knows that. Just as it’s only a matter of time until he’s here again. He pulls out and slips to Dean’s side, lying back against the sheets. He breathes deep once, then again, before glancing over at Dean.
Dean’s watching him, eyes fond; a smile plays at the corner of mouth that isn’t hidden by his pillow.
Castiel blinks and wants to ask Dean what he’s looking at, what he sees, but Dean reaches for him before he can open his mouth, hand finding Castiel’s face.
When Dean pulls back, he’s still smiling. “Maybe next time you decide to do whatever you want, you’ll wake me up for it.”
Castiel knows that they’ve got time to try whatever he wants, to do whatever they want. Dean’s welcomed him into his bed, his body. This is just the beginning. He smirks, closing the distance between them once more. “Maybe I will.”
Dean/Castiel
NC-17
2917
No spoilers. Contains rimming and somnophilia.
Castiel worships Dean, asleep and awake.
For
qthelights. Written last December. Many thanks to perfumaniac and cautionzombies for betaing and oddlyfamiliar for giving it a look. <3“Do whatever you want,” Dean had said. “I’ll probably like it.” He’d kissed Castiel, long and deep and distracting. “And I’ll let you know if I don’t.”
Castiel had wanted to, had looked at Dean and wanted to try everything, but this was new and fragile. He had let Dean take control instead, followed Dean’s lead because anything else was too much. He’d been overwhelmed with want and need, his fingers stalling with indecision.
He’d lain with Dean afterward, felt the beating of their hearts slow, their sweat cool. He’d wanted more, wanted it again, wanted to touch and taste and feel Dean the way Dean had touched and tasted and felt him.
There’d been no time; Castiel had been too slow, called back to Heaven with a pull to his grace. With a kiss to Dean’s temple and one to Dean’s lips, he’d promised to return.
It takes hours, but Castiel keeps his word. Dean is asleep, completely oblivious when Castiel returns. Mostly on his stomach, Dean’s face is buried in the pillow, his arms wrapped tightly around it. The pillow is, Castiel is strangely pleased to note, the same pillow he himself used earlier. The rest of Dean is relaxed, legs spread, body loose. The sheet only comes up to Dean’s waist, falling gently over the curve of Dean’s ass. Castiel has never seen Dean so calm before, never so peaceful; even his mind is unplagued by unpleasant memories and all too real fears.
Castiel stands over Dean and watches him breathe, Dean’s ribs expanding and contracting with each inhale and exhale. If he were still in bed beside Dean, pressed against Dean’s naked back, he’d be able to feel that. Dean would be warm in his arms, soft and hard in delightfully confounding and contradictory ways.
Sliding his coat off, Castiel drapes it over the back of the nearest chair; his jacket follows. There’s no real need for him to undress this way, not when Dean isn’t watching, but Castiel takes the time to unknot his tie. He needs this distance, needs to ground himself in this slow, human ritual before he jumps in.
The tie joins the rest, Castiel’s fingers moving on to the buttons of his shirt, untucking it before continuing on to his belt, toeing off his shoes. He slips the shirt over his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor along with the rest, pants crumpling with a jangle of belt buckle. Ducking down, Castiel pulls his socks off before turning his attention back to Dean.
He’s still asleep, his body a temptation Castiel isn’t accustomed to. He’d wanted so much earlier and hadn’t known where to start or how to go about forging this new thing between the two of them. He’d been too nervous, too afraid of failure, too embarrassed to ask for or take what he wanted.
Too worried Dean would change his mind, would decide this was too much, and push him away.
Dean had said whatever Castiel wanted, though, and what Castiel wanted…what he wants is to see all of Dean again and again. He’s mapped the curve of Dean’s ribs with his hands, felt the rise of bone and muscle and tendon that are Dean’s shoulders, followed the lines of Dean’s thighs up and then down either leg. Castiel has pressed and measured and felt, cared for every inch of Dean’s skin, every hair and freckle and dip and divot.
But never in the way Castiel wants to now, never with Dean’s lungs gasping for breath, Dean’s tongue pressed against Castiel’s own quickened pulse. Never with Dean bright and burning and so alive against him, filled with so much humanity that it makes Castiel’s chest ache to look at him. He’s gotten close, has gotten Dean beside him, against him, over and around him. Dean’s held himself above Castiel, spine arching and thighs trembling, shuddered and shook and come apart.
Castiel wants to hold him down. He wants to touch and taste, explore every bit of Dean at his own pace, wants everything Dean has to give him, everything Dean wants to give him. He wants…he wants…
Reaching out, Castiel grasps the sheet with his fingers and pulls, slowly revealing the smooth curve of Dean’s ass before it falls to the back of his thighs, the vulnerable skin behind Dean’s knees. One of Dean’s calves twitches as Castiel draws the sheet lower, but otherwise Dean does not move.
In all of creation, in all of his eons and eons of existence, Castiel doesn’t think he’s ever met a being more beautiful, more finely made for all his sturdiness. Dean’s muscles and joints fit together perfectly—Castiel should know.
He can feel his own body reacting to the sight of Dean’s, his cock heavy between his legs, growing hard as his eyes travel the length of Dean’s naked skin. Kneeling at the end of the bed between Dean’s feet, Castiel pauses, watching the movement of Dean’s eyes behind the delicate skin of his eyelids. He knows that Dean is dreaming and that, for once, those dreams are pleasant. Crawling forward, Castiel hovers over Dean, feels the heat coming off of him. He leans down to press a kiss to the rise of Dean’s shoulder blade then follows the line of his shoulders to the other, dropping kisses as he goes.
Dean doesn’t move, doesn’t even twitch.
Castiel shifts lower, following the curve of Dean’s spine with his lips and tongue. There’s sweat and gun oil and Dean there, and Castiel chases the taste across Dean’s skin, finds it concentrated at the small of his back. He licks and kisses, sucking a mark against the curve of Dean’s waist that makes Dean rock against the mattress, his hips resettling as he groans. Castiel pulls away to blink up at him, but Dean only snuffles into the pillow.
There’s a part of Castiel that wishes Dean were awake, that wants to hear Dean’s voice saying his name like it’s the only word he knows, like it’s the only word that matters. He wants Dean to look at him with those eyes so green, so clear, wants to see them widen when he does something Dean doesn’t expect. Castiel is certain he knows more than Dean suspects when it comes to sex. Even if he doesn’t, the idea of Dean watching him makes Castiel’s blood zing.
Next time, Castiel thinks. Next time he’ll give Dean what he wants, he’ll take what he likes, and he’ll let Dean watch the whole thing. He’s trusted Dean with everything before; he can trust Dean with this.
Castiel slips farther back, a gentle hand on Dean’s thigh. His fingers brushing the bottom curve of Dean’s ass as he presses a kiss against one cheek. The stubble on his jaw rubs against Dean’s skin, and goose bumps appear, rising up as Castiel continues further down.
Changing his balance, Castiel puts more weight on his knees. He wants more freedom with his hands, wants to really touch and stroke and spread.
The hair on the back of Dean’s thighs tickles Castiel’s fingers. He runs a palm down Dean’s leg to the bend of a knee, drags it back up in the opposite direction, soaking in the heat of Dean’s skin, the feel of relaxed power beneath. He’s felt these legs on either side of him, felt these thighs under his hands as Dean raised and lowered himself on Castiel’s cock earlier.
Sitting up, Castiel glances up at Dean’s face as he slides his hands back to Dean’s ass. He rubs his thumbs across the pale skin there, over the cleft. The dark smudges of Dean’s eyelashes don’t so much as flutter and his breathing remains deep and steady. Castiel sighs and feels something in his chest swell, something large and hot and needy, an urge to cover Dean, protect him and keep him safe. It has little to do with the fact that Dean is his charge. Castiel has never felt this before, doubts very much that he will ever feel it again outside of Dean, outside of what he has with Dean. He thinks this might be what humans write stories about, what they kill to keep and die to protect.
He would kill for Dean. He would die for him. He’s done both.
Castiel’s heart thuds in his chest, a racing thrum beneath his skin. He loves Dean, loves him more than he thought it was possible to love a finite being.
He leans down and presses a kiss to the base of Dean’s spine, lingering there to breathe Dean’s skin, the traces of lubrication and sweat and Dean, of what Castiel himself left there not so very long ago. It’s a heady mix, one that Castiel has to chase to its source. Thumbs pressing inward, Castiel parts Dean’s cheeks, mouthing slowly between them, following the scent and taste until he’s right where he wants to be, tongue flickering across Dean’s opening, curious and wanting.
He licks Dean, presses the tip of his tongue in, breaching Dean’s body ever so slightly.
Dean makes a hitching noise in his sleep, a soft, breathless sound that pulls at that feeling inside of Castiel. He wants to hear Dean say his name in that tone, wants to see Dean look at him when he does.
He delves deeper, fingers spreading Dean farther, and Dean moves against the sheets, body twisting, resituating until his hips are flat against the mattress. Castiel pulls back to watch him; he can’t see it, but he’s sure Dean is hard, recognizes already that pleading sound in Dean’s voice even asleep. He smiles, follows the line of Dean’s spine back to his ass, already spread. Dean’s wet from Castiel’s mouth, pink from their activities earlier. Castiel’s cock twitches, a reminder. A suggestion.
He presses his thumb against Dean’s hole, watches Dean’s flesh open to him, wrap around him. He wants to feel Dean around him again.
Castiel’s thumb slides free and he leans over Dean, reaching for the lube on the nightstand. He remembers watching Dean use it earlier, pouring some on his fingers before reaching behind him to work them inside himself. He’d clutched at Castiel’s hand then, slicked up Castiel’s fingers and pulled them behind himself until Castiel was there, too, pressing inside Dean, hot and tight.
He pours lube on his fingers now, feels it warm against his skin before he traces Dean’s opening with his index finger and presses inside, follows it with another. Dean’s muscles clench around them and he shifts lazily. No matter how many times they do this—Castiel hopes many—and no matter how often he’s allowed to touch Dean like this—he hopes often—Castiel doesn’t think he will ever tire of watching Dean’s body, of feeling Dean’s body react to him.
Sliding his fingers out, Castiel watches the way Dean’s flesh seems loath to let him go. He presses back in with three fingers. Takes great pleasure in the way Dean’s body lets him in, the way Dean lets him in. He pushes forward, feels Dean open around him, slick and perfect, and can’t wait any longer, needs to feel Dean closing around his cock.
Pulling his fingers away, Castiel shifts his weight on his knees, changes his position. He takes hold of his cock, shuddering even at the touch of his own hand, and lines up, pressing forward slowly until its head breaches the muscles of Dean’s ass. One hand planted next to Dean’s shoulders, the other at the small of Dean’s back, Castiel pauses, groaning deep and low in his throat. The sensation is almost overwhelming, too much and not enough. His muscles shake and he wants to slip forward, wants to plunge himself deep within Dean until there’s no space left between them. There’s a danger of losing himself like this, but Dean’s already changed him irrevocably and Castiel is not afraid. Not anymore.
Castiel moves his hands and angles his hips, pushes forward, sinks into Dean like he was meant to be there. Maybe he was.
Leaning down, Castiel presses a kiss to the back of Dean’s neck, nuzzles at his hair. He breathes in and pulls his hips back carefully, pressing forward slowly as he tucks his nose behind Dean’s ear.
Dean moans, his ass pressing back into Castiel, slow and easy, so easy. Castiel had no idea it could be this easy.
Dean tenses beneath him, body tightening impossibly around Castiel’s cock.
“Cas?” Dean’s voice is thick with sleep, and he slurs the edges of Castiel’s name.
Castiel swallows and looks up, finds Dean’s eyes half-open, heavy-lidded and dark. He wants so badly to keep going, to keep moving, and Dean had said…he’d said whatever you want...He wants this. He wants Dean every way and any way. He won’t apologize for it, or hide from it.
“You were expecting someone else?” Castiel asks, lips brushing Dean’s neck, making Dean shudder.
“No,” Dean answers, his voice trembling. There’s a roughness there that’s from more than just disuse, Castiel is sure of this. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. Certainly wasn’t expecting this.”
Castiel frowns and worries that perhaps he has crossed a line, that he’s done something wrong. He moves to pull back, but Dean stops him, unwrapping an arm from around the pillow to reach behind him and grip Castiel’s hip, firm and commanding.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t like it.” His body relaxes beneath Castiel’s, muscles flexing around him. “Feels good. Keep going.”
“Are you—“
Dean’s fingers are hard on Castiel’s skin. “Keep. Going.”
Castiel breathes a sigh and does as Dean commands. He keeps it slow at first, almost gentle. He wants to savor this time he has with Dean, wants to drink it up now so he never forgets it later. Dean melts into the sheets beneath them, pliant and mostly silent, breath gusting against the pillows. It’s a marked change from earlier, when the tension between them was strung tight, each movement, each breath ratcheting them higher, pulling them tighter until there was nothing for it to do but snap, their bodies arching and pulsing until they collapsed together, sweaty and spent.
This is nowhere near that desperation, that furor, but it’s just as good, just as amazing. More so, perhaps, because Dean has put himself in Castiel’s hands, trusts him with his life and body and soul. Dean is his as surely as he is Dean’s.
“Yes,” Dean groans, voice half-muffled in the pillows. “Yes, Cas. I’m yours, I’m—“
Castiel takes Dean’s mouth with his own. It’s not easy at this angle, Dean’s head turned awkwardly to the side. It’s wet and open and sloppy, and Castiel can’t really kiss Dean like he wants to, can’t really throw himself into it like he aches to, but it works. They make it work.
Next time, he thinks, they will go back to doing this face to face.
He mouths at Dean's jaw, follows the line of it to downward. Nips at the curve of Dean's shoulder, that solid slope that leads from Dean's neck, before biting down. It makes Dean’s hips jerk and his voice break and Castiel quickens his pace. He twists his hips and pushes harder into Dean, faster. Sweat covers Castiel’s skin, covers Dean’s, and they slide against each other, sheets bunching as they pant together, as they groan and moan and fuck.
Castiel’s orgasm hits him out of nowhere, a bolt from the blue, and he fills Dean up, hips stuttering. Dean pushes back frantically, clenching around him, Castiel’s name a strangled, pleasure-shot sound on his lips.
That name on those lips in that moment; it’s the best sound in Creation.
Castiel doesn’t need sleep, or even rest, really, but his eyelids droop as he catches his breath against Dean’s back, his limbs heavy. He doesn’t wish to move, only wants to lie against Dean, with Dean. Humans have greater resources , more self-control than any of them realized if they know this—these feelings, this moment, this—exists and they can still go about their lives.
“Fuck,” Dean breathes.
Castiel presses his mouth to the new mark on Dean’s skin. “My thoughts exactly.”
Dean chuckles. The feeling of his happiness so close to Castiel is intriguing; Castiel has the bizarre desire to press himself closer, wrap himself in that low rolling sound.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Dean says, voice rumbling. Castiel can feel that, too; it makes his skin tingle. “But you’re getting kind of heavy.”
It was only a matter of time, Castiel knows that. Just as it’s only a matter of time until he’s here again. He pulls out and slips to Dean’s side, lying back against the sheets. He breathes deep once, then again, before glancing over at Dean.
Dean’s watching him, eyes fond; a smile plays at the corner of mouth that isn’t hidden by his pillow.
Castiel blinks and wants to ask Dean what he’s looking at, what he sees, but Dean reaches for him before he can open his mouth, hand finding Castiel’s face.
When Dean pulls back, he’s still smiling. “Maybe next time you decide to do whatever you want, you’ll wake me up for it.”
Castiel knows that they’ve got time to try whatever he wants, to do whatever they want. Dean’s welcomed him into his bed, his body. This is just the beginning. He smirks, closing the distance between them once more. “Maybe I will.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-21 09:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-28 11:41 pm (UTC)I am absolutely thrilled that you enjoyed it.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-21 09:47 pm (UTC)You are so good.
So fucking good, I swear.
So tactile, so smooth, so soft, and the intensity building up so slowly...
You are so DAMN good at this. I am so stupidly weak for your imagery, your sense of breathless intensity...
The descriptions of Dean lying in that bed...
Yeah. Incoherent.
You're amazing. <3
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-28 11:44 pm (UTC)I am so, so happy that you enjoyed it, bb. You have no idea. Thank you. <333
And, yes, I kinda like imagining Dean lying in that bed...
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-29 12:07 am (UTC)I'm thrilled that you liked it. Thank you!!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-21 09:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-29 05:42 pm (UTC)<3 I'm glad you liked it.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-21 10:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-29 05:50 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-21 10:13 pm (UTC)best. porn. ever.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-29 05:52 pm (UTC)\o/
I'm so happy you liked it! Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-21 10:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-29 05:54 pm (UTC):)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-29 05:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-21 10:52 pm (UTC)I know you didn't write it for me, but thank you for it all the same ♥♥♥
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-29 06:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-21 11:01 pm (UTC)And this was just so much fun and kinky! I just love sexual exploration!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-29 06:03 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked it! Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-21 11:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-29 06:05 pm (UTC)Thank you so much. <3
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-21 11:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-29 06:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-21 11:50 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-30 03:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-22 01:37 am (UTC)I adore it. and you. and both of y'all. i adore the love and trust in this so much. and the kink, oh yes dear, the kink IS HOT.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-04 03:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-22 02:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-04 03:47 am (UTC)THANK YOU!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-22 03:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-04 03:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-22 04:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-04 03:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-22 05:16 am (UTC)/writing weird comments at ass o'clock in the morning
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-04 05:04 am (UTC)I'm so happy that you enjoyed this and think my brain must be an awesome place to visit. You're certainly welcome to visit. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-22 05:17 am (UTC)Excuse me while I mop up the puddle of what my brains used to be.
Hhhhnnnnggghhjfdkafhdkaflajd....YES.
Not only did you write two of my favorite kinks, you did it in such a way that was hot and dirty and at the same time so tender and wonderful. I don't know how you do it, but you're amazing.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-06 06:28 pm (UTC)::squeezes you:: Thank you so much! I'm so happy that it all worked for you.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-22 07:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-06 06:29 pm (UTC)Thank you! I'm so happy that you liked it.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-22 08:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-06 06:35 pm (UTC)<3
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-23 07:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-06 06:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-23 08:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-06 06:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-23 08:36 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-06 06:39 pm (UTC)Thank you so much! I'm happy you liked it!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-23 09:36 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-06 06:40 pm (UTC)