Fic: "Impatience." NC-17.
Title: Impatience
Fandom: Supernatural
Character(s)/Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Prompt: from the top!cas meme at fast_writing: I want post-battle sex with Dean getting all kinds of turned on by BAMF!Cas and Cas needing to blow off some steam and them ending up having hot sex.
Word Count: 1741
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine!
-Author Notes: Yeah, so this is PWP. No bones about it.
Dean lands ass first on the floor. And it's filthy, covered in dust and grime, cobwebs everywhere, the sound of skittering bugs a constant beat in the background. It was a simple haunting. Simple - yeah fucking right, Dean things, because that's really the way things work in their lives. He could handle it - he still could, yeah, just give him a second to collect himself - had sent Sam to find the bones of the man who'd lived there. Old-fashioned salt and burn. But, of course, because the universe had a goddamn hard on for fucking him over, the house was a hideout for a few demons, who'd gotten the jump on Dean as soon as his back was turn.
"Are you all right?" Cas asks, his hand around the last demon's throat. It's wearing a pretty young woman, probably about twenty-five, in a floral skirt and pink cardigan.
"Uh, yeah," Dean says, rubbing his hip. He stands up as Cas exorcises the demon. "I'm... fine." Cas turns to look at him, eyes narrowed. Fuck, he's badass, Dean thinks, an involuntary thrill shooting like liquid heat up his spine. He wipes the dirt from his hands to his jeans and can't help the grin spreading across his face. "Good job, man. Thanks for, you know. Not letting them kill me."
"Be careful," Cas spits out, scolding him. He turns and takes a step toward Dean, rocking the whole holy warrior of God with unself-conscious ease. He radiates power, and Dean can't help responding to that, his body humming with adrenaline, and he licks his lips without thinking about it, the heaviness of want on his tongue. It's a reflex to be annoyed at the way Cas is looking at him, like he's a child who's misbehaved, but it's hard to work up anything past how fucking turned on he is.
There's practically no room between them now, and Cas taps Dean's chest with one blunt finger. "You could have died if I hadn't been here," he says.
Dean grabs his wrist and throws his hand away, a scowl slanting across his face. "Relax, Cas, you were here."
Cas' eyes narrow further, and he's probably going to say something else, continue with the berating, but Dean's done the math and there's no way Sam's going to come looking for him yet, at least not for another half an hour, and his mind is already flooded with the idea of some hot, dirty sex, right here on the floor of the late Rex Carlisle's living room. "Hey," Dean says. He's pretty sure he's leering, which - if Cas' expressions are at all representative of his mood - seems to be vexing, but he really doesn't care. He puts a hand on Cas' shoulder. "Why don't we, uh..." He cocks his head toward the wall and makes a movement with his eyebrows that should be pretty clearly evocative of oh hey, how about a quickie?
For maybe a second Cas looks confused, before his expression is wiped off and he's looking at Dean flatly, something hard to identify burning behind his eyes. "You want me to fuck you," he says and Dean's dick is getting progressively more interested in the conversation. "Here."
Dean grins. "Yeah. Here."
There's probably going to be an argument and Dean is already steeling himself, ready to counter, but in the half second it takes for his fingers to brush against the underside of Cas' jaw, he's turned around and bodily thrown into the nearest wall. He grunts, and braces himself with an arm. Cas is behind him, snaking one arm around his waist.
"You are careless," he says, mouth at Dean's ear. "Reckless."
Dean shivers and turns his head, until his nose hits Cas' over his shoulder. "Yeah," he says. "And?"
Cas makes a noise low in his throat and presses his whole front against Dean's back. It's warm, solid - and that's Cas' dick pressing against him, too, Jesus. "Take off your pants," Cas says, sticking his hand into the waistband. Dean hums in agreement and they fumble together, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. Dean shucks the jeans down his legs and reaches back, tugging on the fabric of Cas' slacks.
"You are impatient, too," Cas says, but it's without bite, and Dean's starting to suspect he doesn't really mind at all. There's naked skin, then, warm against his, and he reaches back again and presses his hand flat to Cas' belly.
"Come on," he says. His hand slides down to just touch Cas' cock - and it's warm, heavy in his hand, and he's tempted just to jack Cas off right there, but there's also a knee between his legs, spreading them apart, and Cas fucking him is pretty good, too.
The trenchcoat is probably still on, because Cas is a fucking creeper, and a small part of Dean wants them both naked, sprawled out on a bed, with enough time to really enjoy it, instead of just a quick fuck after a hunt. But he's still shot through with adrenaline and there's desperation there, too, burning in his gut, and all he wants is Cas, a heady rhythm of now, now, now pounding at his skull.
Cas kisses his neck, biting hard enough to bruise, and he jams two fingers into Dean's mouth. Dean wraps his tongue around them, sucking hard; it's wet and messy, saliva dribbling down his chin. He thinks for a minute of asking Cas to mojo up something better than spit, but he can't really talk around the fingers thrusting into his mouth. And then the next second Cas pulls them out and one is pushing into Dean.
He groans, and Cas bites hard at the lobe of his ear. He says something Dean doesn't understand, murmuring in a language he doesn't know, then pushes the next finger in.
"One day you will stop taking these needless risks," he snarls out, his dick rubbing against Dean's hip.
"Hey, I didn't even know those demons were here," Dean breathes. "Not my fault. I was... was trying to be careful."
"That is not good enough," Cas says, and he's three fingers into Dean and maybe - maybe - this isn't the best time to be having this conversation.
"You can fuss as much as you want later, you motherfucking bastard. Right now, though - "
"What about right now, Dean?" Cas traces the curve of his ear with his tongue and Dean shivers. One hand trails up Dean's bicep and as soon as it reaches his handprint Dean sees spots, white-hot pleasure bursting before his eyes. He gurgles out something that he thinks sounds sort of like words, and Cas does something that probably counts in angel-language as a laugh. "I think maybe I can do something much better than fussing." He lets go of Dean's shoulder - stingy bastard, Dean thinks - and digs around in his pocket. For, apparently, a bottle of lube - and really? Because not even Dean carries lube around with him everywhere and where was that a minute ago anyway. "It's cherry-flavored," Cas supplies helpfully, thumbing open the cap and pouring some onto his cock.
He drops the bottle and wraps a hand around himself. He moans, nosing into Dean's neck. "Yeah, Cas," Dean says as Cas pulls his other hand away, "come on." He grabs Dean's hips and then slides in.
And Christ, Dean thinks, holy fucking hell, he loves cock, he loves this feeling, Cas inside him, and yeah, it hurts, but that's okay, that's good, too, and he moans - deep, shameless - and one of Cas' hands smooths down his flank.
"Dean," he says, because Cas isn't articulate at the best of times and when he's buried balls-deep in Dean monosyllables are pretty much the only thing he can handle. "Dean," he says again, voice breaking. He pants, wrapping one hand around Dean's dick. Dean flexes his hands where he's got them braced against the wall.
"Come on, give it to me, Cas, come on." The only part of Cas that's moving is his hand, and while yeah, that's great, Dean's dick is grateful for the attention, neither of them are going to get off if Cas doesn't get to fucking. He pushes back and Cas makes a strangled sound that squeezes something in Dean's chest before starting to move. His hips snap, pumping into Dean, and it feels so good Dean thinks he might die. He might actually die. Cas might actually fuck him to death, and he realizes that he doesn't really have much of a problem with that, not when it feels this good.
And it doesn't take long at all before he comes, messy over Cas' hand, letting out a breathy "Cas, fuck" as his body seizes. Cas makes a sound like thunder, biting into Dean's shoulder through his shirt, and then in a few seconds he's coming, too.
"So, uh. Good hunt, huh?" Dean asks, looking over his shoulder.
Cas grunts and pats Dean gently on the cheek, smearing Dean's own come across his face.
"Really?" he asks as Cas pulls away. He turns to face him and Cas is already practically dressed, neatly fastening his belt and pushing the end through a belt loop. His hand is clean and Dean stares pointedly until Cas uses some mojo on him, too.
"I have to go now," Cas says, and Dean tries to suppress the twinge of disappointment he feels. He was going to invite Cas to go get some pie. "I would like to stay," Cas explains, looking contrite. His eyes flicker over Dean - oh, who's still naked, crap, he thinks, pulling up his jeans. "But I - "
"Yeah, yeah, Cas, I get it," Dean says. "Just don't be a stranger, okay?" He grins, boyish and crooked, and Cas glares in a way that's really mostly fond. He moves tentatively closer, and then - when Dean doesn't stop him - grabs Dean's jaw and pulls him in, kissing him hard.
And the next second he's gone. Dean rubs his mouth and says "Bye, Cas." There hasn't been any sign of the ghost, so - assuming there was one and it wasn't some sort of demon trick - Sam must have already taken care of its bones. Dean sighs, happy, and leaves, heading back to the motel.
~~~
Fandom: Supernatural
Character(s)/Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Prompt: from the top!cas meme at fast_writing: I want post-battle sex with Dean getting all kinds of turned on by BAMF!Cas and Cas needing to blow off some steam and them ending up having hot sex.
Word Count: 1741
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine!
-Author Notes: Yeah, so this is PWP. No bones about it.
Dean lands ass first on the floor. And it's filthy, covered in dust and grime, cobwebs everywhere, the sound of skittering bugs a constant beat in the background. It was a simple haunting. Simple - yeah fucking right, Dean things, because that's really the way things work in their lives. He could handle it - he still could, yeah, just give him a second to collect himself - had sent Sam to find the bones of the man who'd lived there. Old-fashioned salt and burn. But, of course, because the universe had a goddamn hard on for fucking him over, the house was a hideout for a few demons, who'd gotten the jump on Dean as soon as his back was turn.
"Are you all right?" Cas asks, his hand around the last demon's throat. It's wearing a pretty young woman, probably about twenty-five, in a floral skirt and pink cardigan.
"Uh, yeah," Dean says, rubbing his hip. He stands up as Cas exorcises the demon. "I'm... fine." Cas turns to look at him, eyes narrowed. Fuck, he's badass, Dean thinks, an involuntary thrill shooting like liquid heat up his spine. He wipes the dirt from his hands to his jeans and can't help the grin spreading across his face. "Good job, man. Thanks for, you know. Not letting them kill me."
"Be careful," Cas spits out, scolding him. He turns and takes a step toward Dean, rocking the whole holy warrior of God with unself-conscious ease. He radiates power, and Dean can't help responding to that, his body humming with adrenaline, and he licks his lips without thinking about it, the heaviness of want on his tongue. It's a reflex to be annoyed at the way Cas is looking at him, like he's a child who's misbehaved, but it's hard to work up anything past how fucking turned on he is.
There's practically no room between them now, and Cas taps Dean's chest with one blunt finger. "You could have died if I hadn't been here," he says.
Dean grabs his wrist and throws his hand away, a scowl slanting across his face. "Relax, Cas, you were here."
Cas' eyes narrow further, and he's probably going to say something else, continue with the berating, but Dean's done the math and there's no way Sam's going to come looking for him yet, at least not for another half an hour, and his mind is already flooded with the idea of some hot, dirty sex, right here on the floor of the late Rex Carlisle's living room. "Hey," Dean says. He's pretty sure he's leering, which - if Cas' expressions are at all representative of his mood - seems to be vexing, but he really doesn't care. He puts a hand on Cas' shoulder. "Why don't we, uh..." He cocks his head toward the wall and makes a movement with his eyebrows that should be pretty clearly evocative of oh hey, how about a quickie?
For maybe a second Cas looks confused, before his expression is wiped off and he's looking at Dean flatly, something hard to identify burning behind his eyes. "You want me to fuck you," he says and Dean's dick is getting progressively more interested in the conversation. "Here."
Dean grins. "Yeah. Here."
There's probably going to be an argument and Dean is already steeling himself, ready to counter, but in the half second it takes for his fingers to brush against the underside of Cas' jaw, he's turned around and bodily thrown into the nearest wall. He grunts, and braces himself with an arm. Cas is behind him, snaking one arm around his waist.
"You are careless," he says, mouth at Dean's ear. "Reckless."
Dean shivers and turns his head, until his nose hits Cas' over his shoulder. "Yeah," he says. "And?"
Cas makes a noise low in his throat and presses his whole front against Dean's back. It's warm, solid - and that's Cas' dick pressing against him, too, Jesus. "Take off your pants," Cas says, sticking his hand into the waistband. Dean hums in agreement and they fumble together, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. Dean shucks the jeans down his legs and reaches back, tugging on the fabric of Cas' slacks.
"You are impatient, too," Cas says, but it's without bite, and Dean's starting to suspect he doesn't really mind at all. There's naked skin, then, warm against his, and he reaches back again and presses his hand flat to Cas' belly.
"Come on," he says. His hand slides down to just touch Cas' cock - and it's warm, heavy in his hand, and he's tempted just to jack Cas off right there, but there's also a knee between his legs, spreading them apart, and Cas fucking him is pretty good, too.
The trenchcoat is probably still on, because Cas is a fucking creeper, and a small part of Dean wants them both naked, sprawled out on a bed, with enough time to really enjoy it, instead of just a quick fuck after a hunt. But he's still shot through with adrenaline and there's desperation there, too, burning in his gut, and all he wants is Cas, a heady rhythm of now, now, now pounding at his skull.
Cas kisses his neck, biting hard enough to bruise, and he jams two fingers into Dean's mouth. Dean wraps his tongue around them, sucking hard; it's wet and messy, saliva dribbling down his chin. He thinks for a minute of asking Cas to mojo up something better than spit, but he can't really talk around the fingers thrusting into his mouth. And then the next second Cas pulls them out and one is pushing into Dean.
He groans, and Cas bites hard at the lobe of his ear. He says something Dean doesn't understand, murmuring in a language he doesn't know, then pushes the next finger in.
"One day you will stop taking these needless risks," he snarls out, his dick rubbing against Dean's hip.
"Hey, I didn't even know those demons were here," Dean breathes. "Not my fault. I was... was trying to be careful."
"That is not good enough," Cas says, and he's three fingers into Dean and maybe - maybe - this isn't the best time to be having this conversation.
"You can fuss as much as you want later, you motherfucking bastard. Right now, though - "
"What about right now, Dean?" Cas traces the curve of his ear with his tongue and Dean shivers. One hand trails up Dean's bicep and as soon as it reaches his handprint Dean sees spots, white-hot pleasure bursting before his eyes. He gurgles out something that he thinks sounds sort of like words, and Cas does something that probably counts in angel-language as a laugh. "I think maybe I can do something much better than fussing." He lets go of Dean's shoulder - stingy bastard, Dean thinks - and digs around in his pocket. For, apparently, a bottle of lube - and really? Because not even Dean carries lube around with him everywhere and where was that a minute ago anyway. "It's cherry-flavored," Cas supplies helpfully, thumbing open the cap and pouring some onto his cock.
He drops the bottle and wraps a hand around himself. He moans, nosing into Dean's neck. "Yeah, Cas," Dean says as Cas pulls his other hand away, "come on." He grabs Dean's hips and then slides in.
And Christ, Dean thinks, holy fucking hell, he loves cock, he loves this feeling, Cas inside him, and yeah, it hurts, but that's okay, that's good, too, and he moans - deep, shameless - and one of Cas' hands smooths down his flank.
"Dean," he says, because Cas isn't articulate at the best of times and when he's buried balls-deep in Dean monosyllables are pretty much the only thing he can handle. "Dean," he says again, voice breaking. He pants, wrapping one hand around Dean's dick. Dean flexes his hands where he's got them braced against the wall.
"Come on, give it to me, Cas, come on." The only part of Cas that's moving is his hand, and while yeah, that's great, Dean's dick is grateful for the attention, neither of them are going to get off if Cas doesn't get to fucking. He pushes back and Cas makes a strangled sound that squeezes something in Dean's chest before starting to move. His hips snap, pumping into Dean, and it feels so good Dean thinks he might die. He might actually die. Cas might actually fuck him to death, and he realizes that he doesn't really have much of a problem with that, not when it feels this good.
And it doesn't take long at all before he comes, messy over Cas' hand, letting out a breathy "Cas, fuck" as his body seizes. Cas makes a sound like thunder, biting into Dean's shoulder through his shirt, and then in a few seconds he's coming, too.
"So, uh. Good hunt, huh?" Dean asks, looking over his shoulder.
Cas grunts and pats Dean gently on the cheek, smearing Dean's own come across his face.
"Really?" he asks as Cas pulls away. He turns to face him and Cas is already practically dressed, neatly fastening his belt and pushing the end through a belt loop. His hand is clean and Dean stares pointedly until Cas uses some mojo on him, too.
"I have to go now," Cas says, and Dean tries to suppress the twinge of disappointment he feels. He was going to invite Cas to go get some pie. "I would like to stay," Cas explains, looking contrite. His eyes flicker over Dean - oh, who's still naked, crap, he thinks, pulling up his jeans. "But I - "
"Yeah, yeah, Cas, I get it," Dean says. "Just don't be a stranger, okay?" He grins, boyish and crooked, and Cas glares in a way that's really mostly fond. He moves tentatively closer, and then - when Dean doesn't stop him - grabs Dean's jaw and pulls him in, kissing him hard.
And the next second he's gone. Dean rubs his mouth and says "Bye, Cas." There hasn't been any sign of the ghost, so - assuming there was one and it wasn't some sort of demon trick - Sam must have already taken care of its bones. Dean sighs, happy, and leaves, heading back to the motel.
~~~