inonebasket | (no subject)

(no subject)

This was not how Castiel had wanted to reunite with Dean Winchester. In fact, now that he was at that point, Cas wasn't sure he'd wanted to reunite with Dean Winchester at all. Guilt sank heavy and uncomfortable in his stomach and he was still getting used to the intensity of feeling.

He'd thought things were confusing as an angel. Twenty times worse with a human ticker pumping away in his chest.

Still, there wasn't exactly an option of running when the only exit was prowled by the Leviathan just beyond the door, held at bay only by the wards Cas had carved into the wood and accented with blood from the gash clotting on his forearm. He checked the shells in his shotgun (useless), the bowie knife against his thigh (also useless) and finally, finally looked over at Dean, not sure what he was going to see.

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'Flirting' implies that Cas was aware of what he was doing.

He really wasn't. He just opened his mouth and words fell out again. They do that occasionally; you should be familiar with the sensation, Dean.

Cas does as he's told, pillowing his chin on his arms and closing his eyes.

After a moment's hesitation, Dean straddles Cas' hips, careful to support most of his weight on his knees. It's kind of awkward, given they're both bare assed, but whatever. In for a penny in for a pound or...however that saying goes.

Okay.

Dean takes a breath and sets his hands to Cas' back, using his thumbs and knuckles to dig into the muscle. He might not know what he's doing the way Cas does, but he remembers what Cas seemed to like best last time, so he focuses on shoulders, spine, the space between his shoulder blades. Especially between his shoulder blades.

It's super effective!

Cas was already aroused when he'd rolled over, on his way to hardness with his dick pressed against the sheets. Then Dean climbed on top of him and he sucked in a breath, and then Dean started doing that thing he's doing and everything just got better and better.

In no time at all, Cas is rolling his hips against the mattress (which has the unfortunate side effect of unsettling Dean's seat but these things happen) and propped up on his elbows, panting as he hangs his head. He doesn't know why stimulation along the skin of his back feels so horribly good but right now he doesn't care to know. It does, Dean's on top of him and touching him and Cas fists a hand in the sheets, finally letting loose that groan that had been building in the back of his throat.

If Dean was a thinking man, he might guess that it had something to do with wings, since that's probably where they'd attach if Cas had them. Well. Sort of. He's not really sure how it would work with a vessel and y'know what, he is not questioning it, because Cas just made the most amazing sound.

"Liked that, huh?" Time to figure out exactly what he did that made that happen. Was it the nails on his spine or the thumb at the base of his neck?

Both, actually, because Cas make that noise again and lets go of the sheets to reach back for Dean's thigh, gripping it.

"Dean," he says raggedly, shuddering as he thrusts against the bed. It's not enough.

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