inonebasket | (no subject)

"What--No. You wouldn't be...you. Not in another body."

It's the penis. And also it's Dean. Dean is his own problem.

"Then I don't understand. Should I stop?" He really doesn't want to, but if Dean isn't going to be chill with it it's not like he'll rape the guy. That's what the greek gods do, and nobody likes those assholes.

"Stop--" Dean shuts his eyes and sucks in a deep breath. "Okay, for one thing, you suck at this. Porn is like...the ultimate, hands down worst place to get your sex ed."

Fuck you, Meg liked it.

Cas sits back on his heels and frowns. "Then how should I proceed?"

Meg was a demon. She'd probably have liked anything.

"First off? No hair grabbing. Dudes don't do that to other dudes." He can't believe he's saying any of this.

Cas nods, committing this to memory. No hair grabbing, got it. "Where should I place my hands?"

"Wherever, I guess. I don't know, Cas, I've never made out with another guy before, what do I look like to you?" Seriously. Seriously, Cas. Does Dean look gay. "Just don't think about it. Let your damn hands do whatever they want to do."

Well the fullness of his lips does imply a few things...

"Dean, my hands do what I direct them to. I don't know how to 'let them do what they want.'" Seriously Dean, he captains this Earthship with an iron fist. The only time he's let it do what it wants, he buried a crowbar into a Leviathan's skull.

No they don't shut up

Dean groans. Why does Cas always have to make things so difficult?

"Then put them in your lap and if you feel like putting them somewhere else, do it. Except for the hair. Don't touch the hair." Man, Dean is remembering why he desperately wanted Cas to lighten up ages ago. He needs it, poor guy is so freaking uptight.

"I mean it. Relax. Go with the flow. It's not gonna kill you to let your brain shut off for a while." It won't kill Dean either. Probably.

Shut. Off his...

Cas looks hopelessly lost, but he's not going to ask for even more help. He's going to sound this out on his own. He has a few pointers; just let the vessel body pilot itself and turn off his brain so he is not in control of his actions.

...

Okay still going to give a shot even if it sounds completely ridiculous. Castiel very obviously and very shamelessly rakes his eyes over Dean's body, trying to figure out where to put his hands.

Yeah, that's totally better except for the part where he is more than a little creeped out by the way Cas is looking at him. Oh, if only it was a pretty girl sitting across from him!

Dean is just going to distract himself from that by closing the space between them and kissing Cas, because as weird as that is, at least he doesn't have to see Cas looking him over anymore. That's...marginally better. Now he just has to pretend he's not feeling somebody else's stubble and would it kill Cas to shave properly sometimes?

Yes it would, Cas doesn't like putting sharp things close to his very vulnerable mortal throat. You can shave him yourself if it's that much of a problem, Dean.

So his train of thought has been derailed. Cas kind of sits there like a doll, wondering exactly what Dean is expecting him to do because he hadn't said anything about what to do if Dean starts kissing first. Cas almost grabs Dean's hair -he can't help it, his hands just seem to like it, but it's off limits so- before letting his hands hover awkwardly on either side of Dean's shoulders.

Then, as something wound tight inside of Castiel just snapped, the line of his shoulders loses its rigidity and one hand rests on Dean's arm above his handprint, the other gripping the back of Dean's neck the same way it had the previous night, as Cas had been worshiping Dean's flesh.

The kissing isn't any better, but hopefully Dean doesn't have an issue with where Cas's hands are this time.

Fine. Maybe Dean will.

The one hand is a little close to Dean's hair for comfort, but whatever. He's actually remarkably okay with it, which is...surprising. Very surprising. But Dean will freak out about how he's not freaking out later, because right now he is completely disregarding his earlier rule about hands and hair and sliding one of his hands into Cas' hair. (It's okay when Dean's doing it, see. He's a man and men do the gripping, not the other way around--yes, Cas is a man, too, but it's different!)

Screw it. Dean's not going to keep defending his actions, he is just going to do things.

Dean's thinking an awful lot for a dude making out. Cas's brain is already shutting down as suggested, as evidenced by how aggressive he's becoming because yeah, sure, angel of the Lord doesn't need sex but this body is human and Cas has no buffer between its needs and his own.

If he had the experience required to have proper fantasies, he'd be picturing himself throwing Dean onto floor and doing any number of filthy things to him, but as it is all Cas knows is that he wants. A sound comes out of him that he really hadn't meant to make, low and brief, and he leans backward and shifts his legs to sit with his shoulders against the side of the mattress, pulling Dean with him by the shoulder and neck.

Edited 2011-11-24 08:15 (UTC)

That sound does something very, very weird to Dean's gut. Something that--no. No, he's not questioning it right now. Forget it. Far from resisting the pull, Dean goes with it, looping his other arm around Cas' waist--ow, bruise--and pulling up, breaking the kiss for a second.

"Second rule of making out: doing it on the floor really sucks. Don't do it on the floor."

Edited 2011-11-24 08:45 (UTC)

Being breathless isn't a new thing for Cas, but being breathless because of something like this is, and he takes a second before ordering Dean, "Up," and gripping his collar, hauling them both to their feet and back down onto the bed.

For once, it's actually kind of nice to see Cas breathless. Well. Nice to see him breathless for reasons that don't involve horrible injuries. How's that for rare?

Despite being stuck as a human (or as a human with a tiny bit of Grace, whatever), Cas is still surprisingly strong for being such a weedy, nerdy thing. Dean grunts when he's yanked to his feet and actually almost laughs when his back hits the bed.

Of all the people he thought he'd be making out with, Cas isn't even near the list.

Pretty rare in their line of work. Nice to have a reason to be breathless that doesn't include blinding pain or a run for your life.

On the list or not, Cas has apparently decided to make the best of this situation, and this time the heel of his palm presses down on Dean's hip as if to pin him there. His weight on an elbow digging into the mattress, the springs creaking because they're probably rusted to hell and back, Cas ignores the deja vu as he goes for Dean's lips, misses and drops a kiss onto the corner of his mouth instead. Whatever. He'll just kiss over to his jaw and down his neck then, because Cas has this obsession with Dean's neck that can be explained by the realization that Dean has a really nice neck.

Not that Cas has examined a whole lot of necks up close. Theoretically he knows what every single one looks like, but in his very informed expert opinion, Dean's is the nicest.

It's a neck. It keeps his head from falling off and makes it easier to turn said head to see things. Aside from that, Dean fails to see why Cas is so interested in it.

"Cas. That's--that's enough of that." No necking. That's a little too weird for Dean.

Sam's next door. Dean suddenly hopes Sam is sound asleep.

Cas pushes himself up on his elbow, looking very disgruntled. "I can't do that either?" You are seriously limiting the 'what's okay between dudes' list here, man. Lips-on-lips vanilla kissing on the bed is going to get pretty old after a while.

Hey now, Dean thinks he's been pretty open-minded already just to allow that. Geez, Cas.

"Just gimme a minute, okay? This whole thing is...it's weird. I'm not usually in bed with other men."

HUFF.

Okay. Cas will remember to be patient, because he is a sexless several-hundred-million-year-old creature and Dean is an American in his thirties.

Cas rolls over onto his back to lay beside Dean instead, lacing his fingers over his stomach and letting his legs dangle over the edge of the bed. "...I think I could eat after all." Unintentionally giving Dean an out if he wants to take it.

Dean lunges for it, sitting up and yanking open the nightstand drawer to pull out takeout menus.

"You're in luck. They've got plenty of food around." He'll just pick up the phone and call the first place he sees, ordering for the both of them. Cas still likes red meat, right? Hope so, because Dean's getting lots of it.

Yeah Cas said he could eat, not he could eat five orders of the carnivore special.

Vaguely disappointed and more than a little unsure of himself (a feeling he will never, ever grow accustomed to) Castiel rolls off of the bed and heads into the bathroom, snagging his duffel along the way. He needs a shower and he gets the feeling Dean needs space. Two birds.

Hey, at least one of those is for Sam, okay? Give Dean a little credit.

Castiel is right, though, Dean does need some space. All his life he's been all about the ladies (because there are some very nice ladies out there and he would like to appreciate them, thanks). But now he's just spent the--what time is it again?--the last hour spilling his guts to and making out with a dude. With Cas and he's pretty sure the only way that'd get any freakier is if it'd been with Sam.

Dean rubs his hands over his face, trying to figure out why this bothers him so much. Or, more importantly, why it isn't bothering so much. It is bothering him, just not as much as he'd think it would. He's bothered less than he should be and that bothers him. Or something.

Dammit. He needs a drink. He gets up and digs through his duffel until he finds the half-full bottle of Jack and cracks it open, sorely tempted to down the whole thing.