dulcinea: Castiel from behind, workin' that overcoat. ([SPN] It's an overcoat.)
[personal profile] dulcinea
swing low - the gossip

The first time they kiss, it isn't all hearts and flowers. It's blood and grime and Dean almost watching Cas die again -- freaking again -- and he needs Cas to understand why he can't go around nearly getting himself killed all the time. He told him already -- Dean needs him, but Cas doesn't seem to get it. Sure, Dean's been slow on the uptake too, and probably wouldn't have ever tried to speed up if Cas could manage to not die. Or if Dean could manage to hold onto anyone, anyone at all, without having them walk away from him eventually.

Anyway, point is, it's barely romantic, and it sure as hell isn't sexy, and Dean forgets about it for the rest of the night, or so he pretends. They do a solid job of not talking about it, though Cas tries, until they finish up the case and are back in the motel room they're sharing, a pit stop on the way to Sam.

When Cas tries to bring it up this time, Dean cuts him off again, but in a slightly different way. It's hard for them to have a conversation about that kiss when they're doing it again, Cas backed up against the wall and Dean pinning him there, kissing whatever he was going to say right out of his mouth.

He'd thought Cas wouldn't know what he was doing, wouldn't know what he wanted, and he doesn't for a solid couple of minutes. He lets Dean kiss as hard as he likes, and when Dean's hands move lower, cup the curve of his ass and haul their hips together, Cas groans in surprise, his fingers flexing around Dean's shoulders, but that's about it, until the grip tightens and he pushes Dean away from his mouth.

They're breathing hard, and Dean's eyes are a plea; no talking, not about why this is happening or what it means, none of that, please. He knows it isn't obvious, what they have between them, but it should be; it should be as natural as it's felt, no matter how much they pulled and tugged at this bond between them over the years. It always snapped them back into place, right back here.

Cas considers Dean's request and seems to accept it then, his eyes settling into -- well, just settling. And then he flips Dean around, almost too quick for Dean to keep up, and he catches him in a kiss that leaves Dean struggling to catch up, a few steps behind, his heart beating loud in his ears as he stifles the instincts that have him rebelling against being caught by something -- someone bigger and stronger. This is Cas.

They paw at each other, tugging on clothes and hair, and Dean half feels like they're going to turn this into a wrestling match, trying to pull the other one close enough that their bodies become too tangled up to ever separate again. Which, when Dean thinks about it, is kind of the point. When they wind up on the bed, Cas can't seem to settle, pushing Dean onto his back whenever he manages to flip them over, his hands getting trapped underneath Dean's flannel.

"Hey, hey, breathe." Not that Dean's doing a good job of that himself, but he can still manage a laugh as he pulls back, having managed to wrestle his way on top again. Cas looks like he might drown if Dean puts anymore space between them, so Dean his face, fingers reaching around to knead at his scalp.

"I got you." And Dean does; that's all Dean wants, for Cas to relax like he does just now and let Dean take care of him, which he usually means by wanting to help Cas out of whatever jam he gets himself into, but taking care of him now -- it's a metaphor, or something, and Dean's proud of himself for coming up with it considering he's half-grinding his cock into Cas's hip while he thinks it up.


"Ssh, ssh." He nips underneath Cas's jaw, and his tongue darts out to lick over the mark. He can feel Cas's heart pounding in his chest, and his hand clutching the back of Dean's T-shirt, but that's all secondary to the heat of his cock. It's weird, holding a cock from this angle, and he keeps thinking that when he moves his hand, he ought to feel the answering sensation in his own cock, but Cas is handling that.

They probably should've gotten out of their clothes, but there wasn't time; they never seen to have enough time, not for any of the good moments, and the way Cas has his head tilted back, how's he's lost in this and trying so hard not to be -- that's good. Dean leans in for another kiss, softer than the others, and he starts moving his hand slowly, setting up a rhythm in half time to his heartbeat.

Everything had been fast until this moment, until Dean puts their foreheads together and they wind up swapping breaths, their lips parted but not angling for a kiss, and the world's whittled itself down to the way they're touching each other. Cas isn't practiced, but Dean likes that better; he can concentrate more on what makes Cas's breath catch in his throat, what leaves him jerking up into Dean's hand.


When Dean relaxes on top of him, head buried in his shoulder, everything is still and quiet, except for the way their hearts beat, pounding out a rhythm against each other.
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