![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
I fail at kink memes
... because out of the kajillion I had picked out to write, I only finished one. /o\ (I also fail at DW because I'm not bothering to xpost.)
Dean’s never seen Cas relaxed. Never. The poor bastard is a stiff drunk and passes out after sex too soon for it to be considered any kind of relaxation; he doesn’t even take well to pie and shitty B movies, which is like, the A bomb of comfort. He’s more than a little afraid that Cas is going to give himself a heart attack, so he rents them their own motel room (not for the first time) and sends Sam out with the explanation of “deep relaxation therapy”. He’s really glad Sam decided that he didn’t want to know.
“I don’t see --” Cas starts, unbuttoning his shirt. He’s so uptight that he can’t even do foreplay right.
“Just get naked and lie down,” Dean snaps. Cas rolls his eyes, but he’s still sliding his shirt off, his cock starting to tent his slacks. He always undresses too fast, never giving Dean any time to enjoy the show.
“On your back,” Dean clarifies as Cas goes to lay on his stomach. Maybe the whole foreplay thing says more about who he learned it from than stress. Cas does his confused but still barely phased forehead thing and turns onto his back, laying spread eagle across the bed, his legs just slightly bent because he knows this is normally the part where Dean crawls between them, hard and fast, trying to get them both off as soon as he can.
Cas totally learned shitty foreplay from Dean.
“What do you have planned?” Cas asks suspiciously.
“Just trust me,” Dean says, running the edge of his thumb over what he has in his pocket and deliberately not thinking its name. “And no mind reading.”
“Okay,” Cas sighs, visibly trying to relax on the bed. It doesn’t work, and Dean waits for him to stop shaking, taking in as much of the sight as he can; the long lines of Cas’ legs leading up to his perfect ass, his cock getting harder under Dean’s gaze. He’s still as a statue, but Dean plans on changing that. He pulls off his overshirt, kicks off his boots, and settles himself between Cas’ legs, tracing the lines of his hipbones with one finger.
He’s going so deliberately slow, and he can tell just how much it’s throwing Cas off when his thumb brushes close to Cas’ dick and Cas pushes his hips into Dean, wrapping his legs around Dean’s thighs and pulling him closer.
“Still trust me?” Dean asks, slipping the thing out of his pocket. Cas nods slowly, grinding his hips against Dean, trying to coax him into moving faster, taking what he wants. Before Dean loses his nerve he leans forward and kisses Cas, slipping the ring around his cock and strapping it closed.
“What?” Cas hisses, squirming under Dean.
“You trust me, remember?” Dean reminds him, loosely wrapping his fingers around Cas’ cock and dragging them upwards. Castiel’s mouth drops open around a wordless sound and his eyes lose focus, which is pretty much the biggest reaction other than an outright orgasm Dean’s ever gotten.
“I remember,” Cas says, his voice breathy and tight. Dean jerks him a few more times, running his fingernails down the sensitive skin of his shaft, trailing them down across Cas’ balls to circle his hole, and he watches Cas’ eyes flutter shut, his hips stuttering, seeking the pressure of Dean’s hand. He lets out a soft groan when Dean pushes the tip of his finger inside him, and Cas is still as tight and perfect as the first time they fucked.
“Grab the lube,” Dean commands. He could get it, easily; just lean over Cas, maybe press his denim clad hips a little too close to Castiel’s in the process, but he doesn’t. It’s so worth watching the way Cas’ hand shakes as he grabs blindly at the nightstand. He can see Cas taking deep breaths to try and regain his composure as he hands the tube back to Dean.
Dean makes sure Cas can see him slick his fingers, and Cas’ legs tighten around him as Dean pushes a finger back into his ass, working him open as slowly as he can. Cas pushes back into him, trying to hurry Dean until he leans down and licks a stripe up Cas’ cock, swirling his tongue around the head. Cas honest-to-God groans, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.
Dean works a second finger into him, twisting and curling them until he finds Cas’ prostate, making the angel shiver. He wants to taunt Cas, tease him, but he’s pretty sure Cas is a little beyond words right now, so close to the edge just from Dean’s hands and a little scrap of leather. Cas’ legs are twitching, the muscles close to the surface fluttering every time Dean’s finger finds the bump of his prostate, and Dean drops kisses along them, moving himself down to watch his fingers fucking in and out of Castiel. He adds a third and Castiel whines, breathy hitches of Dean’s name.
He feels like he’s going to come just from watching because fuck does Cas look sexy, wound up as high as he can go, just this close to letting go and being unable to. Cas begs, pleases mixed with his other sounds -- oh Dean please Dean please -- and Dean has to unzip his jeans, hissing when the zipper nearly catches him. He pulls his fingers out of Castiel and pulls his angel’s legs apart, Cas just letting himself be manhandled, and lines himself up. Cas is so slick and hot that Dean slides in, and Cas digs his fingers into the sheets as Dean bottoms out, working his hips back and forth for every bit of friction he can get.
Dean nearly says God, but bites his lip just in time. He tries to start shallow, fucking Cas slow and smooth, until Cas fucking growls at him, “Harder,” and Dean crowds him up against the headboard. Cas tilts his hips into him and Dean is so fucking deep he might die from how perfect it feels. Bracing himself against the headboard with one hand, Cas jerks himself, rough, every time Dean thrusts into him, but the ring is still around him, and he can’t come until he takes it off, he has to know that. Dean takes one look at the frustration and ecstasy on Cas’ face and comes, slamming into Cas and holding him there, riding out his orgasm buried to the hilt in Cas.
Cas lets himself be stilled, his breath punching out of him in little gasps. He’s still hard, his cock red and dripping precome. There are spots of it on Dean’s shirt. Cas thumbs at the velcro of the cock ring, but doesn’t remove it.
“I trust you,” he says, catching Dean watching.
Ignoring his own lethargy, Dean presses Cas back into the mattress, letting Cas grind against his hip while he reaches into the nightstand drawer.
“I got one more thing,” Dean says, pulling his purchase out. He pulls it into Cas’ range of vision, asking wordlessly. Cas takes one look at the dildo and groans, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head.
“Can I?” Dean asks.
“Please,” Cas whines. Dean leans back, pulling Cas’ leg up over his shoulder. The dildo is a little bigger than Dean’s cock, and he considers opening Cas up more first, but Cas whimpers, and Dean doesn’t want him to die anytime soon, so he presses the tip of it against Cas’ already abused looking hole and pushes it home. Cas squirms, working himself open on the dildo in Dean’s hand.
“You’re going to fucking love this,” Dean says, his voice feeling cracked and raw, as he flicks the switch at the base of the dildo. It vibrates to life and Cas fucking arches off the bed, letting out a sound suspiciously like a sob, and Dean tears open the velcro strap of the cockring, fucking the dildo into Cas once, twice before he’s coming.
Dean carefully works the dildo out of Cas, and it finally comes out with an obscene pop of lube. There are marks on Castiel’s thighs where he dug his fingernails in that look like they match the ones Dean can feel along his back.
Cas looks boneless, liquid, like he’s about to be absorbed into the mattress. He smiles lazily up at Dean, sweaty and fucked out and perfectly relaxed.
Yeah, Dean wins at relaxation.
~
Dean’s never seen Cas relaxed. Never. The poor bastard is a stiff drunk and passes out after sex too soon for it to be considered any kind of relaxation; he doesn’t even take well to pie and shitty B movies, which is like, the A bomb of comfort. He’s more than a little afraid that Cas is going to give himself a heart attack, so he rents them their own motel room (not for the first time) and sends Sam out with the explanation of “deep relaxation therapy”. He’s really glad Sam decided that he didn’t want to know.
“I don’t see --” Cas starts, unbuttoning his shirt. He’s so uptight that he can’t even do foreplay right.
“Just get naked and lie down,” Dean snaps. Cas rolls his eyes, but he’s still sliding his shirt off, his cock starting to tent his slacks. He always undresses too fast, never giving Dean any time to enjoy the show.
“On your back,” Dean clarifies as Cas goes to lay on his stomach. Maybe the whole foreplay thing says more about who he learned it from than stress. Cas does his confused but still barely phased forehead thing and turns onto his back, laying spread eagle across the bed, his legs just slightly bent because he knows this is normally the part where Dean crawls between them, hard and fast, trying to get them both off as soon as he can.
Cas totally learned shitty foreplay from Dean.
“What do you have planned?” Cas asks suspiciously.
“Just trust me,” Dean says, running the edge of his thumb over what he has in his pocket and deliberately not thinking its name. “And no mind reading.”
“Okay,” Cas sighs, visibly trying to relax on the bed. It doesn’t work, and Dean waits for him to stop shaking, taking in as much of the sight as he can; the long lines of Cas’ legs leading up to his perfect ass, his cock getting harder under Dean’s gaze. He’s still as a statue, but Dean plans on changing that. He pulls off his overshirt, kicks off his boots, and settles himself between Cas’ legs, tracing the lines of his hipbones with one finger.
He’s going so deliberately slow, and he can tell just how much it’s throwing Cas off when his thumb brushes close to Cas’ dick and Cas pushes his hips into Dean, wrapping his legs around Dean’s thighs and pulling him closer.
“Still trust me?” Dean asks, slipping the thing out of his pocket. Cas nods slowly, grinding his hips against Dean, trying to coax him into moving faster, taking what he wants. Before Dean loses his nerve he leans forward and kisses Cas, slipping the ring around his cock and strapping it closed.
“What?” Cas hisses, squirming under Dean.
“You trust me, remember?” Dean reminds him, loosely wrapping his fingers around Cas’ cock and dragging them upwards. Castiel’s mouth drops open around a wordless sound and his eyes lose focus, which is pretty much the biggest reaction other than an outright orgasm Dean’s ever gotten.
“I remember,” Cas says, his voice breathy and tight. Dean jerks him a few more times, running his fingernails down the sensitive skin of his shaft, trailing them down across Cas’ balls to circle his hole, and he watches Cas’ eyes flutter shut, his hips stuttering, seeking the pressure of Dean’s hand. He lets out a soft groan when Dean pushes the tip of his finger inside him, and Cas is still as tight and perfect as the first time they fucked.
“Grab the lube,” Dean commands. He could get it, easily; just lean over Cas, maybe press his denim clad hips a little too close to Castiel’s in the process, but he doesn’t. It’s so worth watching the way Cas’ hand shakes as he grabs blindly at the nightstand. He can see Cas taking deep breaths to try and regain his composure as he hands the tube back to Dean.
Dean makes sure Cas can see him slick his fingers, and Cas’ legs tighten around him as Dean pushes a finger back into his ass, working him open as slowly as he can. Cas pushes back into him, trying to hurry Dean until he leans down and licks a stripe up Cas’ cock, swirling his tongue around the head. Cas honest-to-God groans, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.
Dean works a second finger into him, twisting and curling them until he finds Cas’ prostate, making the angel shiver. He wants to taunt Cas, tease him, but he’s pretty sure Cas is a little beyond words right now, so close to the edge just from Dean’s hands and a little scrap of leather. Cas’ legs are twitching, the muscles close to the surface fluttering every time Dean’s finger finds the bump of his prostate, and Dean drops kisses along them, moving himself down to watch his fingers fucking in and out of Castiel. He adds a third and Castiel whines, breathy hitches of Dean’s name.
He feels like he’s going to come just from watching because fuck does Cas look sexy, wound up as high as he can go, just this close to letting go and being unable to. Cas begs, pleases mixed with his other sounds -- oh Dean please Dean please -- and Dean has to unzip his jeans, hissing when the zipper nearly catches him. He pulls his fingers out of Castiel and pulls his angel’s legs apart, Cas just letting himself be manhandled, and lines himself up. Cas is so slick and hot that Dean slides in, and Cas digs his fingers into the sheets as Dean bottoms out, working his hips back and forth for every bit of friction he can get.
Dean nearly says God, but bites his lip just in time. He tries to start shallow, fucking Cas slow and smooth, until Cas fucking growls at him, “Harder,” and Dean crowds him up against the headboard. Cas tilts his hips into him and Dean is so fucking deep he might die from how perfect it feels. Bracing himself against the headboard with one hand, Cas jerks himself, rough, every time Dean thrusts into him, but the ring is still around him, and he can’t come until he takes it off, he has to know that. Dean takes one look at the frustration and ecstasy on Cas’ face and comes, slamming into Cas and holding him there, riding out his orgasm buried to the hilt in Cas.
Cas lets himself be stilled, his breath punching out of him in little gasps. He’s still hard, his cock red and dripping precome. There are spots of it on Dean’s shirt. Cas thumbs at the velcro of the cock ring, but doesn’t remove it.
“I trust you,” he says, catching Dean watching.
Ignoring his own lethargy, Dean presses Cas back into the mattress, letting Cas grind against his hip while he reaches into the nightstand drawer.
“I got one more thing,” Dean says, pulling his purchase out. He pulls it into Cas’ range of vision, asking wordlessly. Cas takes one look at the dildo and groans, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head.
“Can I?” Dean asks.
“Please,” Cas whines. Dean leans back, pulling Cas’ leg up over his shoulder. The dildo is a little bigger than Dean’s cock, and he considers opening Cas up more first, but Cas whimpers, and Dean doesn’t want him to die anytime soon, so he presses the tip of it against Cas’ already abused looking hole and pushes it home. Cas squirms, working himself open on the dildo in Dean’s hand.
“You’re going to fucking love this,” Dean says, his voice feeling cracked and raw, as he flicks the switch at the base of the dildo. It vibrates to life and Cas fucking arches off the bed, letting out a sound suspiciously like a sob, and Dean tears open the velcro strap of the cockring, fucking the dildo into Cas once, twice before he’s coming.
Dean carefully works the dildo out of Cas, and it finally comes out with an obscene pop of lube. There are marks on Castiel’s thighs where he dug his fingernails in that look like they match the ones Dean can feel along his back.
Cas looks boneless, liquid, like he’s about to be absorbed into the mattress. He smiles lazily up at Dean, sweaty and fucked out and perfectly relaxed.
Yeah, Dean wins at relaxation.
~