inonebasket | (no subject)

Cas doesn't end up making another sound; not vocally, anyway. His breathing becomes more labored, his hands start to shake as they stroke down Dean's sides and he presses his face against Dean's shoulder.

In their position Cas ended up straddling Dean's leg, and it really isn't long until he's rutting against Dean's thigh, almost hard enough to hurt.

Seriously. Virgins. Dean presses a kiss to Cas' temple, keeping up the...can he call it a massage? It isn't really.

"Easy. Don't hurt yourself."

Wow, this is actually really great. He's pretty sure he could watch Cas fall to pieces all the live-long day. It's a surprisingly nice view. So his jeans are really, incredibly uncomfortable at this point, but oh god, he can live with that.

Experimentally, he drags his nails down Cas' spine, just to see what kind of reaction that'll get.

Cas bares his teeth, grits them against Dean's shoulder and grunts like he'd just been punched in the gut. His hands clutch Dean's sides bruise-tight and even through two layers of jeans Dean can probably feel Castiel's dick twitch against his thigh.

Oh holy shit, yes he can.

"Wow." And that really is the only thing he can think of to say right now. "Should I...you want me to keep going?"

Cas is gasping against Dean's shoulder, but once he poses that question Castiel pushes himself up with a hand to the pillows to nip at Dean's ear. "Yes," he hisses, voice absolutely wrecked, and he's moving against Dean's leg again. "Dean-" He wants him, God, he wants Dean to- To something, he just wants, he wants so badly.

That is something like perfect is what it is. Dean takes his hands off Cas' back briefly. He shifts, fumbling with his fly. Cas' fly takes a little more effort. Dean's never taken off a dude's jeans from this angle before, after all. But finally he gets both flies open and Dean's never been so thankful for his self-control before because otherwise he'd have probably lost it by now, what with Cas making obscene noises and biting his damn ear.

He mouths against Cas' jaw--gonna get stubble burn, but oh well--returning his hands to where they were, though with less rubbing and more scratching, since that seemed to go over especially well.

"You're something else, you know that?" Something amazing.

Dean's fingers brush over Cas's dick as he unzips his jeans and Cas's hand slaps against the headboard before gripping it. Everything feels a thousand times stronger when it's just him and his hand in the shower, and he doesn't know if he can hold on.

It doesn't even take a minute after Dean's nails go back to his spine before Cas is pulling tense, hand on his own dick and teeth digging into Dean's shoulder as he groans out a release. He wilts against him, panting, dazed and wondering what the fuck just happened.

Seriously wow.

Yeah.

Dean could watch that all day.

"Shit, Cas. Wow." Dean actually feels somewhat awed, like he can't believe he actually helped engineer that. All he did was scratch Cas' back, after all. Who knew it'd be so sensitive?

And suddenly, the only thing Dean wants to do is make that happen again.

Dean's going to have to wait to make that happen again, because surging up in place of that desperate want is the need to make Dean feel just as good as he made Cas feel.

Cas knows all of Dean's hot spots by heart. He'd known about them before, logically, medically, in a way that would never apply to him but now, now-

"Dean," Castiel whispers. He's not even ashamed at unraveling so quickly, because who's going to blame him? He's never done this shit before. Castiel doesn't often feel shame anyway, it's just not programmed into him. He shifts, wipes the mess on his hand on the pant leg of his own jeans, and puts his hands to work.

Before, it was just a massage. Now, now Castiel's purpose is seduction. He strokes his thumbs over Dean's lower belly, lips sucking idly down his neck, toward his collarbone. His hands shift up to his shoulders, down his arms, back up to his neck. He rakes his nails across Dean's stomach, because Dean doing that to his back had felt amazing.

Edited 2011-11-27 12:05 (UTC)

Oh, that's just unfair.

Dean groans without meaning to, his head falling back against the headboard with a thump. His stomach tightens when Cas uses his nails and so much for self control; Dean's not going to last if that keeps happening. He fits his hands against Cas' hips and rocks up sharply.

"Cas." It comes out more like a breath or a prayer than anything else. Dean makes himself keep his eyes open. Makes himself look, because this feels important in the way a hunt feels important or the way the tattoo over his heart or the hand-shaped scar on his shoulder is important.

Oh God, the way Dean says his name- Cas shudders, kisses Dean hard, tries to go for seductive but thinks he might just have come off as desperate instead. "Tell me," he murmurs against Dean's lips, kissing down his throat again. "Tell me what you need me to do." He'll do it, he'll do anything, he just doesn't know enough to know what it has to be.

Oh God is right.

"Wish I knew." Definitely a prayer. Dean's had a lot of sex in his life, but he's as clueless in this department as Cas is. "Wish to god I knew, Cas, but--here." Hey, he's got a reasonable guess. He takes hold of Cas' wrist, guiding his hand down. "Same equipment and I know you've been using yours."

Hand job shouldn't be too hard to figure out, and Dean is more than happy to oblige Cas and tell him when to ease off and when to grip harder.

Right. Of course, naturally.

Cas switches sides, shifting his weight so he can pay attention to Dean's neglected ear, wrapping his fingers around Dean's cock and stroking slowly. He obeys without hesitation Dean's orders of 'tighter' or 'faster' or 'Jesus Cas, I'm not a chick, harder.'

Eventually Castiel slides down Dean's body, out of his grip, kissing a crooked line down his chest until he sets his teeth and lips to Dean's lower belly, sucking up a bruise as he smooths a thumb over the head of Dean's cock, a move that had him coming like a shot in the shower the first time he'd tried it.

Well, it's not exactly like a shot, but it's sure like a something, and inexplicably, infinitely better than he's had in a good long while. Dean groans, teeth dug into his lip, and goes lax against the bed, breathing hard.

Yeah well Cas was a virgin. Still is? Does whatever just happened count?

Cas pushes himself up onto his knees with a grunt, rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders. He's got Dean's come all over his hand and he's not sure if he should hurry off to the bathroom to clean himself or if that would be misconstrued as...something he doesn't want it to be misconstrued as.

Holy hell. Dean strewn out on the pillows and breathing past his post-orgasm bliss short-circuits Cas's brain and he openly stares like he just found the Holy Grail, the Ark of the Covenant and Joseph's Technicolor Dreamcoat.

Totally counts. At least, it totally counts in Dean's book.

Dean is still for a while, one arm thrown across the bed, the other resting loosely across his stomach. After a few minutes, he grimaces and sits up, lifting his hips so he can wriggle out of his jeans. Hey, they both just got off, not much point in modesty now.

Oh yeah. That's better.

AND THEN DEAN GOT NAKED.

IS CAS DEAD. DID HE GROW A SOUL, DIE AND GO TO HEAVEN? HE THINKS HE MIGHT HAVE DONE THIS.

What? No.

What?

"Cas. You okay?"

"Yes. I'm very remarkably okay, Dean." Cas wipes his hand off on his jeans and shucks them as well, climbing up further onto the bed to lay beside Dean.

"Well. Okay then. Good." Because for a second, Cas looked poleaxed.

In a very naked mimicry of the way they usually sleep together, Dean shifts onto his stomach, flinging one arm across Cas' body. It feels remarkably...normal.

"I'm okay, too."

Go figure. He's not flipping his shit for some reason. No sense in questioning it.

Cas moves closer, still a little bit stunned by what they'd just done together, but returns the gesture and puts an arm around Dean's shoulders. He kisses Dean once more before settling. "...Dean? We...are doing this again some time, right?"

If Dean says no, so help him God Cas may- he doesn't even know. Do something ridiculous and drastic. Become a hippie, maybe.

Dean huffs, feeling the pull of post-sex sleep upon him. "Ask me when I wake up."

When he's sober. Well, it's close enough to a yes, right?

Not exactly. Actually it sounds more like a 'no' from where Cas is sitting, and try as he might to keep the concern off of his face, he can't do it. Hopefully Dean is too buzzed on booze and sex to notice. "Ah. I'll do that."

Way too buzzed on both, as a matter of fact. Also, quickly falling asleep. Dean's gone in less than a minute, arm securely over Cas, face pressed into his arm. He sleeps remarkably well, though he wakes up a bit hungover. And sticky. Ugh. Downside to getting laid. It itches.

Carefully, Dean untangles himself from from Cas, only stumbling a little on his way into the bathroom. He basks under the hot water for a little while before emerging, clad only in a towel.

"Good morning, starshine, the Earth says hello." Up and at 'em, Cas.

Castiel grumbles and rolls over, rubbing at his eyes. He slept like the dead, something that has been happening very, very rarely for him. Apparently getting off was just what the doctor ordered.

"I watched George Carlin last night," he says. The pillow muffles his commentary somewhat. "He seems like a very dissatisfied person."