Fic: "Giving Yourself to Me Can Never Be Wrong." NC-17.
Title: Giving Yourself to Me Can Never Be Wrong
Fandom: Supernatural
Character(s)/Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Prompt: lover100 prompt 001. mine; mixtape_13 prompt Let's Get It On -Marvin Gaye
Word Count: 1849
Rating: R to NC-17 (no actual sex, really, but it's talked about, definitely happening after the fade-to-black, and there's a masturbatory moment)
Disclaimer: Not mine!
-Author Notes: This was started awhile ago as a maybe-might could be response to a prompt on the top!cas meme hosted at the beginning of the month, but it never really went anywhere. So! I just took what I had and... finished it, with a different prompt.
The lights in the motel flicker, and Sam frowns, looking up from his laptop. "That's really distracting," he says and Dean just nods, stretching out on the other bed. He curls his toes and lets his arms reach out, brushing the headboard with the tips of his fingers.
"Go hang out in the library or something, then," Dean says. He shoots Cas a quick grin; yeah, it's his fault for getting him worked up, but God Cas is easy. He licks his lips and watches Cas watching him. One hand dips into his jeans and he pops the button, sliding his fingers past the waistband of his boxers. He throws his head back, biting his bottom lip and the lights flicker again. Oh yeah, Dean is definitely getting fucked tonight.
Sam shuts his laptop and sighs. "Okay," he says, "you're right." Dean isn't sure if he's realized it's because of Cas or if he still thinks it's faulty wiring. "I'll be back in a little while."
"Cool," Dean says, leaning up. "Hey, pick up some food on your way back. Burgers."
"Whatever," Sam says, rolling his eyes.
"Hey, I'm serious," Dean calls after him. "Burgers, Sam. And... fries," he says as the door shuts. He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and flops back down onto the bed. He hums to himself, stripping out of his shirt and throwing it on the floor. He unzips his fly and spreads the flap of his jeans wide.
"Dean." Castiel stands up from the chair he'd been sitting in. His eyes are this gorgeous fucking blue, dark, pupils blown out, and he blinks once as he swallows, long lashes against pale skin that makes Dean tense in anticipation.
"Yeah, Cas?" he drawls, letting his hand drift down to his cock. Cas makes a noise that sounds a little like abortive speech, and Dean withdraws his hand, then folds his arms under his head. "Oh look," he says, when Cas doesn't speak again. "Looks like you've got a boner."
"Dean," Cas says again, and this time it's more intense, deeper - if that's even fucking possible because Christ, that voice - and Dean lets the arousal he'd been holding back with Sam in the room flood out, his body warm and flushed with that heady yearning. "Stop it."
"Stop what, Cas? Teasing?"
Cas steps toward him. "Yes."
Dean pretends to think this over for a minute. Then he leans up onto his elbows and gives Cas a long, hard look, eyes raking down his body. "Well," he says. He chews his lip a little and lets his head tilt, ear brushing his shoulder. Cas' eyes are on the handprint he made and Dean shivers, skin prickling. "I'll stop. If you take off that damn trenchcoat."
And that seems to be a deal Cas can get behind, because he stretches his arms out, forty-five degrees at each side and rolls his shoulders so the coat stars sliding off. It drops to the floor and Cas yanks hard at his tie. It loosens, hanging limp around his neck and Dean watches, transfixed, as the suit jacket follows the coat to the floor.
"C'mere," he says, scooting to the edge of the bed, and Cas obeys, stepping closer and then surging forward, his mouth landing hard on Dean's. Dean grabs his shirt and starts unbuttoning, while Castiel licks into his mouth, filthy-wet and so fucking good. As soon as one arm's out of its sleeve he grabs the back of Dean's head, yanking hard on his hair. It pulls Dean's mouth off of his and Dean grunts, sliding his palm down Cas' chest as Cas licks a crooked, slippery line down the slope of his neck. "I want you to fuck me," he says, pulling off Cas' shirt the rest of the way and settling his thighs around Cas' hips. "Tell me you're going to fuck me."
"I'm going to fuck you," Cas says, voice rough as he slides against the pale, tender skin of Dean's throat. His breath is hot and his stubble scrapes around the open mouthed kisses he lays down. Dean loves to hear dirty words from that pretty mouth and he flexes his hips, yanking at the tie still around Cas' neck.
"Yeah, want you inside me, you feathery bastard," Dean says, nosing at Cas' cheek. Cas groans and lifts his head, fitting his mouth against Dean's. They almost kiss, Dean's tongue curling out, nudging at the swell of Cas' bottom lip. Cas lets out a breath and his tongue follows; it slides against Dean's, between their mouths. Dean sucks in and lets Cas' tongue push into his mouth. He wraps his lips around it and sucks again, gently.
"You are very... persuasive," Cas says, and he finally straightens up, taking on step back and pulling his tie over his head and throwing it to the floor. He grabs two handfuls of denim and yanks hard, pulling Dean forward. It's almost off the bed and he grunts, shimmying backwards as Cas tugs his pants off.
They fall to the floor in a heap and Cas kicks them up. He puts one firm hand on Dean's chest and pushes, sending him falling back onto the mattress with a small bounce. He gets onto his hands and knees, following Dean's body up until they're nose to nose and Dean can feel the hard line of Cas' cock through his slacks. He runs one hand down Cas' back and pushes his hips up.
Cas groans, low in his throat, and lifts up so they're no longer pressed to tight together. The air between them suddenly is heavy and Dean's hips lift up again, chasing the weight. Cas is like this a lot when they fuck, way too slow, stalling things to just stare, just feel, soaking up sensation like he's starving for it. Which isn't a bad way to put it, Dean thinks, knowing he probably can't feel much, wearing poor Jimmy Novak like his own personal angel condom. He wonders if he's going to actually have to tell Cas to oh so kindly divest them of the rest of their fucking clothes.
Cas just hovers above for another few seconds. Dean shifts, then, and Cas makes a deep, guttural sound in his throat. He grabs the waistband of Dean's boxers and yanks, pulling as hard as he can. He can't quite gather the coordination to work them down Dean's legs, and Dean uses his knees to push them down, before he slides one leg out and they dangle on his right foot. He kicks them off and then he's blissfully naked. He stretches out, the bedspread scratchy beneath him and Cas warm and hard above.
"You've still got your pants on," Dean says, palming his own cock and watching Cas' eyes dart down, the muscles in his jaw shift. His hands are fisted in the bedding and his knuckles are whitening. "And you're not even touching me. Shit, Cas, what exactly do you think we're doing here? Or is it, uh." He leans his head back and lets his voice go warmer, breathing rough and heavy through his mouth. "You just want to watch me?" He knows he's appealing, knows Cas gets unraveled just from the smooth cut of his hip, the line of his jaw - so he's pretty unrepentant in using every trick he knows to drive Cas a little fucking crazy. He flexes his arm and lets his hand slide up and down his cock. And fuck, Jesus, it feels good, but he wants Cas, not his own hand. He traces his upper lip with his tongue, and gives the handprint on his shoulder the barest touch.
That sets Cas off like he's on fucking fire, and he knocks Dean's hand away, grabbing his thighs and tugging, hard, ramming Dean's crotch into his. "Dean," he says, eyes on the ceiling. His neck is long, stretched out and bare, and Dean wants to bite it, tear into the pretty skin, lap up the beads of sweat that are just starting to form there. He pumps his hips once and then leans down, blanketing Dean with his body, and their mouths meet without any premeditation, silken heat that Cas presses into with a long, insistent tongue. "Stop it," Cas says into Dean's mouth, sounding a little blindsided. "Stop teasing me. Stop touching yourself like that." He fumbles with his belt, fingers hurried, uncoordinated, and Dean lets him work, waiting until the pants are around his ankles to lean up, pressing his chest to Cas', finding his mouth again. Cas makes a gorgeous sound - wrecked and wrung out - and his hands, lightly trembling, land on Dean's hips.
Fingertips dig into his skin and he grunts out "Then are you going to fuck me or not?" He pulls his legs up and spreads his knees wide. And he knows he's on display, sees Cas' nostrils flare and hears the harsh breath that stutters out. Cas is so easy to fluster; Dean can work him over in next to no time flat, have him panting, so hot for it he's begging, words rough and unfamiliar tumbling out of that mouth - Dean, fuck, please. And he's not gentle; he holds himself back unless Dean drives him, with his hands, his tongue, his cock, past the point of all self-control. That's where Dean wants him - Christ, it's so good when Cas is like that. "This ass is all yours, baby."
It's not normally his thing, would normally pass up a really possessive partner. But damn does Cas like it - letting Cas do the possessive thing makes him totally lose his shit, go fucking ass over head crazy. And that means the sex is fucking out of this goddamn world great. He's never had anything that's been his before, and no, Dean's not gonna be owned, thank-you-very-fucking-much, but he can understand belonging to Cas. It's the same way Cas belongs to him. So when Cas leans in and grabs him, twists of hair locked between his fingers, and whispers mine, soft and low, like a benediction, Dean doesn't stop him. He runs his tongue along Cas' neck, bites hard at the lobe of his ear.
And Cas says "Mine," as he slots his hand onto the scar on Dean's shoulder, and licks across Dean's clavicle.
"Fuck," Dean says, anchoring a foot on the small of Cas' back and yanking him forward. Cas steps out of his pants, shaking them off, and he murmurs something soft against Dean's shoulder. "Feels like you're fucking anointing me," he says, Cas' breath warm against his flesh.
Cas just nips him with sharp, pretty teeth and whispers "mine" again as Dean huffs. He's got one hand snaking around, fingers stroking Dean's thigh, going up just high enough to touch his balls.
"Yeah," Dean says, "Okay. That's right." He pulls Cas' face up to his and kisses him, hard, their lips mashed together. "I'm fucking yours."
~~~
Feedback is always appreciated!
*lover100 table here
*mixtape_13 table here
Fandom: Supernatural
Character(s)/Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Prompt: lover100 prompt 001. mine; mixtape_13 prompt Let's Get It On -Marvin Gaye
Word Count: 1849
Rating: R to NC-17 (no actual sex, really, but it's talked about, definitely happening after the fade-to-black, and there's a masturbatory moment)
Disclaimer: Not mine!
-Author Notes: This was started awhile ago as a maybe-might could be response to a prompt on the top!cas meme hosted at the beginning of the month, but it never really went anywhere. So! I just took what I had and... finished it, with a different prompt.
The lights in the motel flicker, and Sam frowns, looking up from his laptop. "That's really distracting," he says and Dean just nods, stretching out on the other bed. He curls his toes and lets his arms reach out, brushing the headboard with the tips of his fingers.
"Go hang out in the library or something, then," Dean says. He shoots Cas a quick grin; yeah, it's his fault for getting him worked up, but God Cas is easy. He licks his lips and watches Cas watching him. One hand dips into his jeans and he pops the button, sliding his fingers past the waistband of his boxers. He throws his head back, biting his bottom lip and the lights flicker again. Oh yeah, Dean is definitely getting fucked tonight.
Sam shuts his laptop and sighs. "Okay," he says, "you're right." Dean isn't sure if he's realized it's because of Cas or if he still thinks it's faulty wiring. "I'll be back in a little while."
"Cool," Dean says, leaning up. "Hey, pick up some food on your way back. Burgers."
"Whatever," Sam says, rolling his eyes.
"Hey, I'm serious," Dean calls after him. "Burgers, Sam. And... fries," he says as the door shuts. He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and flops back down onto the bed. He hums to himself, stripping out of his shirt and throwing it on the floor. He unzips his fly and spreads the flap of his jeans wide.
"Dean." Castiel stands up from the chair he'd been sitting in. His eyes are this gorgeous fucking blue, dark, pupils blown out, and he blinks once as he swallows, long lashes against pale skin that makes Dean tense in anticipation.
"Yeah, Cas?" he drawls, letting his hand drift down to his cock. Cas makes a noise that sounds a little like abortive speech, and Dean withdraws his hand, then folds his arms under his head. "Oh look," he says, when Cas doesn't speak again. "Looks like you've got a boner."
"Dean," Cas says again, and this time it's more intense, deeper - if that's even fucking possible because Christ, that voice - and Dean lets the arousal he'd been holding back with Sam in the room flood out, his body warm and flushed with that heady yearning. "Stop it."
"Stop what, Cas? Teasing?"
Cas steps toward him. "Yes."
Dean pretends to think this over for a minute. Then he leans up onto his elbows and gives Cas a long, hard look, eyes raking down his body. "Well," he says. He chews his lip a little and lets his head tilt, ear brushing his shoulder. Cas' eyes are on the handprint he made and Dean shivers, skin prickling. "I'll stop. If you take off that damn trenchcoat."
And that seems to be a deal Cas can get behind, because he stretches his arms out, forty-five degrees at each side and rolls his shoulders so the coat stars sliding off. It drops to the floor and Cas yanks hard at his tie. It loosens, hanging limp around his neck and Dean watches, transfixed, as the suit jacket follows the coat to the floor.
"C'mere," he says, scooting to the edge of the bed, and Cas obeys, stepping closer and then surging forward, his mouth landing hard on Dean's. Dean grabs his shirt and starts unbuttoning, while Castiel licks into his mouth, filthy-wet and so fucking good. As soon as one arm's out of its sleeve he grabs the back of Dean's head, yanking hard on his hair. It pulls Dean's mouth off of his and Dean grunts, sliding his palm down Cas' chest as Cas licks a crooked, slippery line down the slope of his neck. "I want you to fuck me," he says, pulling off Cas' shirt the rest of the way and settling his thighs around Cas' hips. "Tell me you're going to fuck me."
"I'm going to fuck you," Cas says, voice rough as he slides against the pale, tender skin of Dean's throat. His breath is hot and his stubble scrapes around the open mouthed kisses he lays down. Dean loves to hear dirty words from that pretty mouth and he flexes his hips, yanking at the tie still around Cas' neck.
"Yeah, want you inside me, you feathery bastard," Dean says, nosing at Cas' cheek. Cas groans and lifts his head, fitting his mouth against Dean's. They almost kiss, Dean's tongue curling out, nudging at the swell of Cas' bottom lip. Cas lets out a breath and his tongue follows; it slides against Dean's, between their mouths. Dean sucks in and lets Cas' tongue push into his mouth. He wraps his lips around it and sucks again, gently.
"You are very... persuasive," Cas says, and he finally straightens up, taking on step back and pulling his tie over his head and throwing it to the floor. He grabs two handfuls of denim and yanks hard, pulling Dean forward. It's almost off the bed and he grunts, shimmying backwards as Cas tugs his pants off.
They fall to the floor in a heap and Cas kicks them up. He puts one firm hand on Dean's chest and pushes, sending him falling back onto the mattress with a small bounce. He gets onto his hands and knees, following Dean's body up until they're nose to nose and Dean can feel the hard line of Cas' cock through his slacks. He runs one hand down Cas' back and pushes his hips up.
Cas groans, low in his throat, and lifts up so they're no longer pressed to tight together. The air between them suddenly is heavy and Dean's hips lift up again, chasing the weight. Cas is like this a lot when they fuck, way too slow, stalling things to just stare, just feel, soaking up sensation like he's starving for it. Which isn't a bad way to put it, Dean thinks, knowing he probably can't feel much, wearing poor Jimmy Novak like his own personal angel condom. He wonders if he's going to actually have to tell Cas to oh so kindly divest them of the rest of their fucking clothes.
Cas just hovers above for another few seconds. Dean shifts, then, and Cas makes a deep, guttural sound in his throat. He grabs the waistband of Dean's boxers and yanks, pulling as hard as he can. He can't quite gather the coordination to work them down Dean's legs, and Dean uses his knees to push them down, before he slides one leg out and they dangle on his right foot. He kicks them off and then he's blissfully naked. He stretches out, the bedspread scratchy beneath him and Cas warm and hard above.
"You've still got your pants on," Dean says, palming his own cock and watching Cas' eyes dart down, the muscles in his jaw shift. His hands are fisted in the bedding and his knuckles are whitening. "And you're not even touching me. Shit, Cas, what exactly do you think we're doing here? Or is it, uh." He leans his head back and lets his voice go warmer, breathing rough and heavy through his mouth. "You just want to watch me?" He knows he's appealing, knows Cas gets unraveled just from the smooth cut of his hip, the line of his jaw - so he's pretty unrepentant in using every trick he knows to drive Cas a little fucking crazy. He flexes his arm and lets his hand slide up and down his cock. And fuck, Jesus, it feels good, but he wants Cas, not his own hand. He traces his upper lip with his tongue, and gives the handprint on his shoulder the barest touch.
That sets Cas off like he's on fucking fire, and he knocks Dean's hand away, grabbing his thighs and tugging, hard, ramming Dean's crotch into his. "Dean," he says, eyes on the ceiling. His neck is long, stretched out and bare, and Dean wants to bite it, tear into the pretty skin, lap up the beads of sweat that are just starting to form there. He pumps his hips once and then leans down, blanketing Dean with his body, and their mouths meet without any premeditation, silken heat that Cas presses into with a long, insistent tongue. "Stop it," Cas says into Dean's mouth, sounding a little blindsided. "Stop teasing me. Stop touching yourself like that." He fumbles with his belt, fingers hurried, uncoordinated, and Dean lets him work, waiting until the pants are around his ankles to lean up, pressing his chest to Cas', finding his mouth again. Cas makes a gorgeous sound - wrecked and wrung out - and his hands, lightly trembling, land on Dean's hips.
Fingertips dig into his skin and he grunts out "Then are you going to fuck me or not?" He pulls his legs up and spreads his knees wide. And he knows he's on display, sees Cas' nostrils flare and hears the harsh breath that stutters out. Cas is so easy to fluster; Dean can work him over in next to no time flat, have him panting, so hot for it he's begging, words rough and unfamiliar tumbling out of that mouth - Dean, fuck, please. And he's not gentle; he holds himself back unless Dean drives him, with his hands, his tongue, his cock, past the point of all self-control. That's where Dean wants him - Christ, it's so good when Cas is like that. "This ass is all yours, baby."
It's not normally his thing, would normally pass up a really possessive partner. But damn does Cas like it - letting Cas do the possessive thing makes him totally lose his shit, go fucking ass over head crazy. And that means the sex is fucking out of this goddamn world great. He's never had anything that's been his before, and no, Dean's not gonna be owned, thank-you-very-fucking-much, but he can understand belonging to Cas. It's the same way Cas belongs to him. So when Cas leans in and grabs him, twists of hair locked between his fingers, and whispers mine, soft and low, like a benediction, Dean doesn't stop him. He runs his tongue along Cas' neck, bites hard at the lobe of his ear.
And Cas says "Mine," as he slots his hand onto the scar on Dean's shoulder, and licks across Dean's clavicle.
"Fuck," Dean says, anchoring a foot on the small of Cas' back and yanking him forward. Cas steps out of his pants, shaking them off, and he murmurs something soft against Dean's shoulder. "Feels like you're fucking anointing me," he says, Cas' breath warm against his flesh.
Cas just nips him with sharp, pretty teeth and whispers "mine" again as Dean huffs. He's got one hand snaking around, fingers stroking Dean's thigh, going up just high enough to touch his balls.
"Yeah," Dean says, "Okay. That's right." He pulls Cas' face up to his and kisses him, hard, their lips mashed together. "I'm fucking yours."
~~~
Feedback is always appreciated!
*lover100 table here
*mixtape_13 table here