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I'm Forever Yours
You guys. YOU GUYS. This is the porniest porn to ever porn, I don't even. It's also the sequel to this (being that thing where Dean watches Cas get it on with some chick from a bar) that I promised to write roughly eight years ago. It can be read as a standalone per kink_bingo rules and because, y'know, it's porn. Title yet again from Chiodos.
I’m Forever Yours
NC-17 LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER | Dean/FC, Dean/Castiel | ~1,600
Dean has a really, really good idea about how to get Cas’ attention.
Kink: Voyeurism (+ mild exibintionism, rimming). My Card.
Dean calls and asks Castiel to meet him at a hotel that Castiel knows is not anywhere the Winchesters have stayed before, and it makes him wary. There’s a note on the door, scribbled on a napkin with something red and waxy that says ‘door’s open, Cas’ in Dean’s handwriting.
He taps the door open and the sight of Dean, naked, kneeling on the floor between a girl’s splayed legs, hits him, knocking a soft groan out of him.
“Your buddy’s here,” the girl says from where she’s poised on the bed, her voice hoarse and wrecked. She groans as Dean pulls away, her hand tugging at his hair to pull his mouth back to her.
“Just in time,” Dean says. His mouth is wet and slick, and his tongue slides out to lick his lip as his eyes move over Castiel’s body.
“Dean,” Castiel says. He leans back until his back touches the wall, finding it suddenly harder to stand upright.
“Is this a thing with you two?” the girl whines, her hand combing lazily through Dean’s hair.
“You could say that.” Dean’s eyes haven’t left Castiel, and he tips his head towards a chair set next to the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”
He doesn’t wait for Castiel before he climbs onto the bed, the girl laying back to make room for him. She giggles when Dean kisses her, a high, pleased sound.
Castiel makes his way to the chair, unable to take his eyes off of them. The way their limbs tangle, loose and relaxed; the shine of their skin.
“Take your coat off, Cas. Stay a while,” Dean says lightly. He snaps his teeth at her neck and she shrieks in delight, wrapping her legs around him. Castiel’s fingers find the knot of his tie instinctively, loosening it. He slides his arms out of his coat, letting it fall off his shoulders.
“He does take orders, Dean,” the girl says breathily.
“Told you,” Dean murmurs, running his tongue over her collarbone.
“I’m Elle, by the way,” she groans, her gaze glazing over as she locks eyes with Castiel.
“And you talk too much,” Dean says.
Castiel nods, vaguely, peeling off his suit jacket. The fabric is pooled around him, pushing him to the edge of the chair.
“What can I say?” Elle laughs. “I have a big mouth.” Dean does something with his tongue to the side of her neck and she shudders, her whole body going still under him. Dean chuckles.
“How you doin’, sweetheart?” Dean asks, and Castiel makes a noise he didn’t know he was capable of, simultaneously knowing Dean’s speaking to Elle and hating her for it, for being the one pinned and smiling and sweaty under Dean’s body.
“Better than him,” she answers. “You want to get this show going, or what?” She cants her hips into him, dragging a growl from Dean.
“You read my mind.”
Castiel doesn’t know where to look; Dean grins over his shoulder at him and rolls his hips and Elle’s mouth goes slack and her toes curl and Dean slides into her, his hands moving to pull her legs higher and her fingernails claw pale pink lines into Dean’s back. Castiel presses the heel of his hand into his erection, hovering between his want to watch and his urge to join them. He has the idea that if he asked, he could be the one pinned under Dean, kissing Elle’s dark-lipped mouth.
“You’re wearing too many clothes, sugar,” Elle groans, staring at Castiel. Dean thrusts lazily, eying him up and down.
“Start with your tie,” he orders.
Clumsily, unable to perform the action now that he’s thinking about it, Castiel’s fingers tug down the loop of his tie until he can pull it over his head, shivering as the fabric moves up his neck.
“Fuck he’s pretty,” Elle groans.
“Your shirt now,” Dean says, softly.
Castiel pushes at the buttons, frustrated with the first, but finding them easier as he moves down. Elle sighs softly with every inch of fabric that falls away. Dean’s staring unrepentantly, biting into his lower lip. He lets the shirt fall off his shoulders, gathering in the heap of clothing scattered around him.
“You’re still wearing your shoes,” Dean points out. Elle giggles, and Castiel kicks off the offending items.
“What now?” Castiel asks, his voice feeling raw in his throat.
“Sit back and enjoy the show,” Elle says, pushing at Dean’s shoulders. Chuckling, Dean rolls the two of them over, so Elle’s straddling him. He settles against the headboard, Elle perching in his lap. “Good for you, baby?” she purrs.
Dean kisses her, his hands tangling in her long, black hair. Castiel groans, shifting in his chair.
“It’s good for us,” Dean answers.
“Good,” Elle says, moving in his lap. Dean sighs, his head knocking back into the wall, his hands holding loosely onto Elle’s hips. Castiel groans, biting his mouth closed.
“Just watch, Cas,” Dean groans. “For now.”
Cas leans back in his chair, suddenly realizing that he’s been moving closer to them.
“You’re a tease, baby,” Elle purrs.
“You know it,” Dean groans.
Castiel’s hand smooths up and down his thigh, unconsciously, as Elle fucks herself on Dean, her lips curled into an easy smile. She meets Castiel’s eye and leans down to kiss Dean. “I think your boy over there’s about to explode.”
“You think I should do something about it?” Dean chuckles.
“Yeah,” she sighs. “Maybe I want to watch for a while.”
Castiel whimpers, digging his fingernails into his thigh. He can’t stop himself. Dean’s staring at him, hungrily.
“Yeah,” Dean says, “okay.”
Elle slides away, laying back on the bed, her fingers going to work. Dean moves towards Castiel across the bed, crawling, sinful and slow, and Castiel has to hold himself in his chair. Dean stands, his arms framing Castiel. He leans up into Dean, wanting to touch and not knowing if he can.
Dean, the hint of a smile on his lips, kisses Castiel, laughing as Castiel and Elle groan. Castiel grabs at Dean’s hips, pulling him half onto his lap, pressing their bare chests together.
“Jesus,” Dean says. He interrupts Castiel’s protests with another kiss, searing him. His lips are blisteringly hot, his tongue molten. Castiel would be happy to burn.
“Dean,” Castiel says, pushing his hips up towards Dean’s heat.
“I got you, Cas,” Dean mutters against Castiel’s lips. Castiel sighs as Dean slides his zipper down. “I got you.”
Dean starts to move away and Castiel clutches at him. Dean presses their foreheads together, gently prying Castiel’s hands away, and Castiel lets him. He kneels between Castiel’s legs, spreading them with palms on his knees. Castiel hisses when Dean pulls his cock out, bucking into Dean’s hand. “Hold still.”
Castiel doesn’t have time to ask what Dean’s going to do before his cock is in Dean’s mouth. He groans, tipping his head back, and tries to hold still while Dean hums around him.
“Fuck,” Elle groans, from somewhere in the vicinity of the bed.
Dean’s name is slipping from Castiel’s lips, over and over, and Dean himself is smirking up at him, his lips stretched and shiny. Castiel runs his fingers through Dean’s hair, resisting the urge to grab on. Dean’s eyes slide to half shut, contented and hazy. Dean pulls off, his mouth moving away with a slick pop, and Castiel groans at the cool air hitting him.
“Shh,” Dean says, pulling Castiel’s legs even farther apart, until he’s slouching half off the chair. The tip of his tongue trails across Castiel’s testicles, and he does grab Dean’s hair this time. Dean waits for him to let go before continuing, pushing the slickness of his tongue lower and lower until he’s tracing Castiel’s hole.
“Holy shit,” Elle hisses, and could Castiel speak, he would have to agree. Dean’s tongue is inside of Castiel, wet and hot and so good Castiel can barely stand it, and someone’s moaning, whimpering, panting like they’re falling apart at the seams and Castiel doesn’t know who.
“Dean,” Castiel says, his mouth nearly too dry to form words, “it’s -- I need.”
Dean sinks his teeth into the flesh of Castiel’s thigh. “I got you, Cas, remember?” His mouth, so fucking perfect, is back around Castiel in a heartbeat, and Dean’s finger is pushing into him. Castiel doesn’t know how to move with the new sensation, to go towards it or closer to Dean’s mouth. Dean flicks his tongue, his finger scraping over something inside Castiel, and Castiel nearly screams as he comes, his fingers tightening in Dean’s hair in a way that has to be painful.
Castiel feels like he’s melting out of his chair, and Dean presses a quick, dirty kiss to the inside of Castiel’s thigh, bringing himself off with his hand. Castiel wants to help him, but he’s finding it difficult to move. Dean shudders, whining deep in his throat, and nuzzles at Castiel’s hip.
“Guys,” Elle says, sounding blissed out, “the next time you have one of these little get-togethers, you’d better count me the fuck in.”
~
.
I’m Forever Yours
NC-17 LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER | Dean/FC, Dean/Castiel | ~1,600
Dean has a really, really good idea about how to get Cas’ attention.
Kink: Voyeurism (+ mild exibintionism, rimming). My Card.
Dean calls and asks Castiel to meet him at a hotel that Castiel knows is not anywhere the Winchesters have stayed before, and it makes him wary. There’s a note on the door, scribbled on a napkin with something red and waxy that says ‘door’s open, Cas’ in Dean’s handwriting.
He taps the door open and the sight of Dean, naked, kneeling on the floor between a girl’s splayed legs, hits him, knocking a soft groan out of him.
“Your buddy’s here,” the girl says from where she’s poised on the bed, her voice hoarse and wrecked. She groans as Dean pulls away, her hand tugging at his hair to pull his mouth back to her.
“Just in time,” Dean says. His mouth is wet and slick, and his tongue slides out to lick his lip as his eyes move over Castiel’s body.
“Dean,” Castiel says. He leans back until his back touches the wall, finding it suddenly harder to stand upright.
“Is this a thing with you two?” the girl whines, her hand combing lazily through Dean’s hair.
“You could say that.” Dean’s eyes haven’t left Castiel, and he tips his head towards a chair set next to the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”
He doesn’t wait for Castiel before he climbs onto the bed, the girl laying back to make room for him. She giggles when Dean kisses her, a high, pleased sound.
Castiel makes his way to the chair, unable to take his eyes off of them. The way their limbs tangle, loose and relaxed; the shine of their skin.
“Take your coat off, Cas. Stay a while,” Dean says lightly. He snaps his teeth at her neck and she shrieks in delight, wrapping her legs around him. Castiel’s fingers find the knot of his tie instinctively, loosening it. He slides his arms out of his coat, letting it fall off his shoulders.
“He does take orders, Dean,” the girl says breathily.
“Told you,” Dean murmurs, running his tongue over her collarbone.
“I’m Elle, by the way,” she groans, her gaze glazing over as she locks eyes with Castiel.
“And you talk too much,” Dean says.
Castiel nods, vaguely, peeling off his suit jacket. The fabric is pooled around him, pushing him to the edge of the chair.
“What can I say?” Elle laughs. “I have a big mouth.” Dean does something with his tongue to the side of her neck and she shudders, her whole body going still under him. Dean chuckles.
“How you doin’, sweetheart?” Dean asks, and Castiel makes a noise he didn’t know he was capable of, simultaneously knowing Dean’s speaking to Elle and hating her for it, for being the one pinned and smiling and sweaty under Dean’s body.
“Better than him,” she answers. “You want to get this show going, or what?” She cants her hips into him, dragging a growl from Dean.
“You read my mind.”
Castiel doesn’t know where to look; Dean grins over his shoulder at him and rolls his hips and Elle’s mouth goes slack and her toes curl and Dean slides into her, his hands moving to pull her legs higher and her fingernails claw pale pink lines into Dean’s back. Castiel presses the heel of his hand into his erection, hovering between his want to watch and his urge to join them. He has the idea that if he asked, he could be the one pinned under Dean, kissing Elle’s dark-lipped mouth.
“You’re wearing too many clothes, sugar,” Elle groans, staring at Castiel. Dean thrusts lazily, eying him up and down.
“Start with your tie,” he orders.
Clumsily, unable to perform the action now that he’s thinking about it, Castiel’s fingers tug down the loop of his tie until he can pull it over his head, shivering as the fabric moves up his neck.
“Fuck he’s pretty,” Elle groans.
“Your shirt now,” Dean says, softly.
Castiel pushes at the buttons, frustrated with the first, but finding them easier as he moves down. Elle sighs softly with every inch of fabric that falls away. Dean’s staring unrepentantly, biting into his lower lip. He lets the shirt fall off his shoulders, gathering in the heap of clothing scattered around him.
“You’re still wearing your shoes,” Dean points out. Elle giggles, and Castiel kicks off the offending items.
“What now?” Castiel asks, his voice feeling raw in his throat.
“Sit back and enjoy the show,” Elle says, pushing at Dean’s shoulders. Chuckling, Dean rolls the two of them over, so Elle’s straddling him. He settles against the headboard, Elle perching in his lap. “Good for you, baby?” she purrs.
Dean kisses her, his hands tangling in her long, black hair. Castiel groans, shifting in his chair.
“It’s good for us,” Dean answers.
“Good,” Elle says, moving in his lap. Dean sighs, his head knocking back into the wall, his hands holding loosely onto Elle’s hips. Castiel groans, biting his mouth closed.
“Just watch, Cas,” Dean groans. “For now.”
Cas leans back in his chair, suddenly realizing that he’s been moving closer to them.
“You’re a tease, baby,” Elle purrs.
“You know it,” Dean groans.
Castiel’s hand smooths up and down his thigh, unconsciously, as Elle fucks herself on Dean, her lips curled into an easy smile. She meets Castiel’s eye and leans down to kiss Dean. “I think your boy over there’s about to explode.”
“You think I should do something about it?” Dean chuckles.
“Yeah,” she sighs. “Maybe I want to watch for a while.”
Castiel whimpers, digging his fingernails into his thigh. He can’t stop himself. Dean’s staring at him, hungrily.
“Yeah,” Dean says, “okay.”
Elle slides away, laying back on the bed, her fingers going to work. Dean moves towards Castiel across the bed, crawling, sinful and slow, and Castiel has to hold himself in his chair. Dean stands, his arms framing Castiel. He leans up into Dean, wanting to touch and not knowing if he can.
Dean, the hint of a smile on his lips, kisses Castiel, laughing as Castiel and Elle groan. Castiel grabs at Dean’s hips, pulling him half onto his lap, pressing their bare chests together.
“Jesus,” Dean says. He interrupts Castiel’s protests with another kiss, searing him. His lips are blisteringly hot, his tongue molten. Castiel would be happy to burn.
“Dean,” Castiel says, pushing his hips up towards Dean’s heat.
“I got you, Cas,” Dean mutters against Castiel’s lips. Castiel sighs as Dean slides his zipper down. “I got you.”
Dean starts to move away and Castiel clutches at him. Dean presses their foreheads together, gently prying Castiel’s hands away, and Castiel lets him. He kneels between Castiel’s legs, spreading them with palms on his knees. Castiel hisses when Dean pulls his cock out, bucking into Dean’s hand. “Hold still.”
Castiel doesn’t have time to ask what Dean’s going to do before his cock is in Dean’s mouth. He groans, tipping his head back, and tries to hold still while Dean hums around him.
“Fuck,” Elle groans, from somewhere in the vicinity of the bed.
Dean’s name is slipping from Castiel’s lips, over and over, and Dean himself is smirking up at him, his lips stretched and shiny. Castiel runs his fingers through Dean’s hair, resisting the urge to grab on. Dean’s eyes slide to half shut, contented and hazy. Dean pulls off, his mouth moving away with a slick pop, and Castiel groans at the cool air hitting him.
“Shh,” Dean says, pulling Castiel’s legs even farther apart, until he’s slouching half off the chair. The tip of his tongue trails across Castiel’s testicles, and he does grab Dean’s hair this time. Dean waits for him to let go before continuing, pushing the slickness of his tongue lower and lower until he’s tracing Castiel’s hole.
“Holy shit,” Elle hisses, and could Castiel speak, he would have to agree. Dean’s tongue is inside of Castiel, wet and hot and so good Castiel can barely stand it, and someone’s moaning, whimpering, panting like they’re falling apart at the seams and Castiel doesn’t know who.
“Dean,” Castiel says, his mouth nearly too dry to form words, “it’s -- I need.”
Dean sinks his teeth into the flesh of Castiel’s thigh. “I got you, Cas, remember?” His mouth, so fucking perfect, is back around Castiel in a heartbeat, and Dean’s finger is pushing into him. Castiel doesn’t know how to move with the new sensation, to go towards it or closer to Dean’s mouth. Dean flicks his tongue, his finger scraping over something inside Castiel, and Castiel nearly screams as he comes, his fingers tightening in Dean’s hair in a way that has to be painful.
Castiel feels like he’s melting out of his chair, and Dean presses a quick, dirty kiss to the inside of Castiel’s thigh, bringing himself off with his hand. Castiel wants to help him, but he’s finding it difficult to move. Dean shudders, whining deep in his throat, and nuzzles at Castiel’s hip.
“Guys,” Elle says, sounding blissed out, “the next time you have one of these little get-togethers, you’d better count me the fuck in.”
~
.