The Bucket List (2/?)
Title: The Bucket List (2/?)
Warnings: grinding, clothed!sex, angry!sex, frotting
Genre: Romance/Angst
Chapter Summary: During a hunt, Castiel almost dies throwing himself in front of Dean. Dean isn't happy.
Chapter 2: In which there is sex in the Impala.
"The hell where you thinking, Cas?" Dean shouts, jaw clenched, face red.
"Saving your ass, that's what," Castiel retorts, dark eyes unflinching like blue steel.
"I'm just going to go inside…" Sam mumbles, slinking up to the motel room with all of their stuff. Dean and Castiel ignore him.
"You could've died," Dean growls lowly, stepping up into the ex-angel's face.
"I am fine, aren't I? Hardly even a scratch."
"Don't be a smartass," he snarls, pushing Castiel up against the Impala door. Castiel narrows his eyes.
"Well, who do you think I learned that from?"
"Goddamnit, Cas, you aren't an angel anymore! You're not fucking invincible!"
"You think I do not know that? Dean, me being here, wearing this, having this," he points at a dark bruise forming on his face, eyes flashing angrily, "means I'm no longer what I used to be. I cannot even heal a simple bruise, Dean! I know this."
Dean swallows, "Cas…" The ex-angel's nose flares, and he flips them around, cold seeping through Dean's clothes.
"But just because I'm not what I used to be does not mean I am useless. I was a soldier for many millennia, Dean. Millennia. My body isn't weak-you know that. I'm not completely fallen. I am still stronger than you, and I can still feel my wings, useless as they may be. I have a spark of Grace I can feel when I'm with you, Dean, because of this." He fits his long fingers into the scar on Dean's shoulder and Dean groans, head falling back against his baby. A spark of heat trails up his spine and he shivers, feeling every movement of Castiel's fingers in hyper-clarity.
"You will not baby me," Castiel hisses into the hunter's panting mouth before sealing his lips over his in a harsh, brutal kiss that's all clacking teeth and savage tongues. It's been at least a week since they've done this, gotten body to body and had enough time to get farther than quick handjobs and messy kisses. They're both too frantic to get inside, Dean opening the back door of the Impala, pushing at Castiel so he can jiggle it open. When he does, Castiel pushes him and they fall, landing in a tangle of arms and legs.
Dean's soft Oof when his back hits the leather seats causes Castiel to sit up, peering unblinkingly at him with dark, hungry eyes.
"God, you freak, stop staring at me," Dean cracks, body growing warm at the flash of affection in those depths, along with something else he definitely doesn't want to name.
They'd started this relationship based on convenience, Dean too tired of having empty one night stands and Castiel eager to experience the upsides of practically falling. They aren't exactly inclusive but they aren't open either, Dean free to flirt and mess around with anyone he wants but finding himself strangely reluctant. Last week hadn't been the first time they'd had all the way, full out sex, but it had only been the third or fourth, their relationship still new and unbelievable. Of course, you wouldn't believe that with the way Castiel is biting at Dean's neck and rolling his hips.
Dean snaps his head back, gasping.
"Stop thinking," Castiel growls. Dean lets out a shuddering breath, gripping at Castiel's clothes. He slips a hand underneath his shirt, needing to touch warm, writhing skin. Castiel hisses when Dean drags his nails from the concave of his stomach up to his ribs, to his nipple, rubbing and twisting the nub with his fingers. Castiel trembles, rolling his hips against Dean's clothed erection, and his hand stutters as he chokes on a moan.
"Jesus, Cas," Dean groans and Cas stills and Dean will never admit that he whimpers at the loss of movement, shifting around in the sticky leather.
"How many times have I told you to stop with the blasphemy," Castiel says lowly, voice deep and rich as liquid dark chocolate. Which makes him seriously get some ideas.
"I-fuck," but, fuck, Cas is fucking brutal, undulating his hips and lining up the length of their cocks, dragging his teeth against the side of his neck before sinking them into the sensitive place slightly below and behind his ear. Dean keens, both hands settling low at Castiel' hips, thankful he's taken on wearing low-slung jeans, making it easy for him to reach down and grip those sharp, prominent hipbones. Holy hell, but he shouldn't find a dominating Cas so hot, but he clearly does if the way he's spreading his legs and rutting against him is any indication. It's not like this is news to him; he got hard that first time Castiel slammed him against a wall in the Green Room, eyes hard and defiant, chin up and knife out, exposing delicate wrists and so much blood.
The same thing happened when Castiel had found him about to say yes, slamming him against the dirty alley wall and spitting angry, hurt words, breath hot and panting against his lips. When he'd mumbled Please and Do it he had no idea what he had been asking for: blissful oblivion or…something else.
Castiel takes skin in his mouth and sucks, and Dean's abruptly pulled back from reminiscing, hearing the low, broken cry burst from his lips.
Castiel hums, the vibrations sending tingling excitement through his veins.
Dean's frantic now because Castiel's slotted their hips together just so, hands scrambling to reach skin, nails scratching up his back. His fingers scrabble against the ex-angel's shoulder blades and Castiel freezes, pupils blown even wider, mouth dropping open.
"Dean," he breathes, right before attacking his lips, full mouth sealing over Dean's in a messy, filthy kiss, sucking Dean's tongue in and looping that dexterous muscle tightly around.
They're both unbelievably desperate, hands pushing down pants and pulling up shirts, Dean taking out Castiel's and his own dick and sliding them together, pre-come and the messy friction hot and dirty, sweat shining on both their skin. The muscles in Castiel's lean stomach clench and those in Dean's biceps bulge as he flips them over, slip-sliding his way straight to bliss.
"Dean," Castiel gasps, writhing as he cups Dean's face, bringing him in for a kiss as pure as sin, which is to say, not at all. And they're both so close, nearly tripping over the edge but not quite there.
"Cas," he grates, panting, "Cas."
"Dean, Dean, I'm going-I'm-" Castiel tucks his neck in the hollow of Dean's neck, breathing in and out rapidly. Dean traces the ex-angel's fluttering abdominal muscles, watching in hazy fascination the silver glow of the Enochian scar.
"I got you, Cas. You can let go. You can let go." There's a high-pitched keen and Castiel's bucking up, arching into Dean's chest when he twists his fingers a certain way, coming between them in burning spurts. He slumps underneath Dean, blue eyes half-lidded and framed by thick, black lashes. He shifts over Dean, exposing the hook of his thigh to hipbone for him to rut against, glancing quizzically at the mess between them. Dean bites his lip, thrusting his hips helplessly as he watches the near-human drag his long, slender fingers through his own release, coming up to sniff at it before tentatively wrapping his mouth around the digit, looking up at Dean with huge sapphire eyes.
Dean's breath catches because hell if that's not the hottest thing he's ever seen. He catches a slip of pink tongue and that's it. He shudders violently, his orgasm ripping through him in bright flashes, the scent of leather, sweat, and musk filling his nostrils.
"Fucking hell, Cas. Hottest thing ever," he murmurs nearly incoherently, vision hazy but not near unclear enough to avoid the smug smirk on Castiel's lips.
Castiel hums, grabbing a black towel used to wipe up blood and cleaning them off, settling into Dean's chest like he could burrow in and live there. Dean wraps an arm around him, inhaling the spring rain odor of Castiel's hair and shifting on the sticky sweat of what they did.
There's not enough room for two grown men in the backseat of the Impala, and much as he loves her-and he does-he doesn't really want to sleep in the backseat. He's too old and broad for that, although when he sits up and looks down at Castiel, languid and pale, molded into the dark leather like he was sewn into it, shirt off, pants unbuttoned to expose those sharp hipbones, he can't find it in himself to really care.
Castiel opens one eye, dark hair shining in the night light.
"What are you doing?" He asks, and dear God if that voice were any rougher he'd be ready for round two.
"Can't sleep here, Cas. We'll hate ourselves in the morning." Castiel huffs, not looking like he wants to agree but finding himself doing just that anyway.
"Don't wanna move," and he really shouldn't find a lazy, sleep-slurred Cas so damn endearing but he does, and all he wants to do is cradle him in his arms so he won't have to do anything.
"C'mere, you," he says instead, zipping up his pants and catching the angel as he half-crawls, half-snails his way to Dean, wrapping him up and carrying him. The night air is cool and bright, the moon silver and reflecting in his (what? no. the) angel's dark eyes and slack mouth.
As he makes his way toward the motel (why is Castiel so light?) he presses his mouth to those silky black strands, feeling as he sighs and curls in closer to Dean's warm chest.
"So, I assume we're crossing the Impala of that list, yes?"
Dean stops, brow furrowed as he tries to remember what Cas is talking about. Flashes of a late-night conversation: a sleep-slurred everywhere and a small, indulgent smile.
He laughs, smile genuine and so very happy when he says, "Yeah, I guess it is."
It got schmoopy at the end. REMEMBER, REVIEWS WITH SUGGESTIONS WILL MOST LIKELY MAKE IT INTO THE STORY AT SOME POINT.
Also, the plot is kinda making itself known here. But it's very small. Impala!sex is hard to write.
AND. GUYS. THE EPISODE. JUST. I LIKED IT A LOT. THE SAM AND CASTIEL MOMENT. I WAS LIKE AWW STOP MAKING ME SHIP SASSY (I don't. I feel uncomfortable shipping Sassy when there is Dean around. It makes me feel weird.) BUT I SHIP BROTHERLY MOMENTS BETWEEN THEM AAAALLL.
P.S. Cas needs a hug.
P.P.S. I HAVE A TUMBLR NOW GUYS. It's rewrite-the-role-we-play.tumblr.com/
I kind of flail around and am generally annoying. Also, I post weird shit I write. And there's Glee there too because I am obsessed with that show as well. BUT IT'S MOSTLY SUPERNATURAL STUFF. And, yeah. I'm done.