Fic: Slow Dancing 3/5
Thanks to bhsbaby for looking it over!
Words: 1135
Scene 1
Scene 2
Scene 3
Scene 4
Scene 5
Scene 3
Castiel is beginning to think that his severance from Heaven is taking a greater toll .
Scene 3
Castiel is beginning to think that his severance from Heaven is taking a greater toll than he had initially guessed.
He’s sitting on the couch of what appears to be a luxury high-rise hotel room. It’s a whole suite of rooms, with doors from the common room leading to a bedroom, a bathroom, and even a kitchen. The decoration is sumptuous yet modern, and one wall opens up in a huge picture window of a glittering cityscape beneath him. It's evening, wherever he is in this dream, and the city lights twinkle like stars while the actual night sky is dark and blotted with clouds.
“Swanky digs,” Dean says behind him, and Castiel’s not even surprised anymore. “You stepping up your game, Cas? Trying to impress little ol’ me?”
Castiel doesn’t know quite how to respond, but he finds that often to be the case when it comes to Dean. He stops gazing out the window, however, and looks at Dean instead, who is pulling the champagne bottle out of an ice bucket on the coffee table. “I don’t remember falling asleep.”
“Most people don’t,” Dean says as he pours the champagne into two elegant crystal flutes. “It’s normal.”
“I am not normal people,” Castiel says, but the protest sounds weak to his ears. “At least-I should not be.”
“Have a drink.” Dean holds out a flute filled with bubbling gold liquid. “It’s good. It’ll take the edge off.”
“The edge of what?” Castiel asks as he accepts the glass.
“The edge of life,” Dean grins, and then shakes his head at Castiel’s puzzlement. “Forget it. It’ll make you feel better. Drink up.” He holds up his glass and then swallows the champagne down in one long swallow, Adam’s apple moving smoothly along the line of his throat.
After a second, Castiel copies Dean’s movements, and the first burst of bubbles is a little startling, but pleasantly so. The liquid tingles as it goes down, and when he finishes the glass, Dean fills it with more. “I do not think this is the best use of our time,” Castiel says as Dean drinks his second glass and gestures for Castiel to do the same.
“We’ve gone over this before, Cas. This is a dream, and there aren’t really that many good uses for dream time,” Dean says. “But if you’d like to do something else while we’re here, I’m all ears.” Dean’s comment is innocuous, but there’s a note in his voice that stirs something inside Castiel--that feeling Dean had stirred the last time they’d met like this.
Castiel gulps down his champagne, and this time, willingly holds out his hand for more. “Will we be doing more of-of what we did in the last dream?”
A slow smile spreads across Dean’s face, and it’s beautiful-sexual, but with surprising sweetness and joy alongside the lust. There’s a kind of happiness that Castiel hasn’t seen Dean wear in a very long time. “You mean you wanna make out on the couch?”
Castiel looks down at the couch he’s sitting on and supposes he has no particular objection to it, and says as much. Dean throws his head back and laughs (though Castiel doesn't quite understand what's funny), and then pours the last of the bottle into Castiel’s glass.
After Castiel drinks it all down, Dean sits down beside him and puts a hand on his knee. His lips are soft against Castiel’s, and now that he knows what to expect, they move to open mouthed kisses almost immediately.
Castiel keeps his arms at his sides stiffly, not certain what to do with them now that they’re not dancing. But Dean runs his hands all over Castiel’s body self-assuredly, tracing Castiel’s neck, shoulders, and back. Castiel feels gooseflesh rise up when Dean grazes the bare skin with his fingertips, and a rush of heat gather below his waist.
Dean notices too, and chuckles, pulling away a little. “Guess you’re a fan, huh?”
Castiel shakes his head and stares down as his lap, where the protrusion is very visible. He understands the physical process of arousal and eventual ejaculation, but the actual sensations are much more than he expected. Heightening the intensity is a gentle tug of heat buzzing through his body-the alcohol, perhaps. “The human body is strange,” Castiel says, and Dean smiles as he slides off the couch onto the rug-covered floor.
Dean positions himself between Castiel’s knees and unbuckles his belt. “Let me take care of that for you.”
A small part of his mind tells Castiel he ought to push Dean away, or at least not lift his hips to allow Dean to slide off his pants and his underwear. This is not something Castiel should be indulging in-not even in the context of a false reality-when Dean is his charge and the fate of the world rests on both their heads. But Castiel can’t seem to move his legs under Dean’s palms, or look away when Dean kisses up Castiel’s knee to his inner thigh, finally closing his mouth around Castiel’s erection in an explosion of sensation the likes of which Castiel has never experienced before.
The heat, the perfect wet suction, the way Dean looks on his knees before him-all of it causes Castiel to try to buck his hips up instinctively, but Dean holds him firmly to the couch with surprising strength and ease. But all thoughts slip away as the incredible feelings continue and improve and finally spiral up in an incredible peak Castiel can only assume is an orgasm.
When the pleasure subsides and he can focus his attention enough to open his eyes, Castiel finds Dean sitting next to him again, watching him with a satisfied smile. “Good stuff, right?” Dean says, and Castiel can only agree. Dean’s eyes rake over Castiel’s flushed body with a mixture of emotions Castiel can’t begin to identify without the ability to touch Dean’s mind. “You’re getting to be pretty human now, aren’t you?”
“Is this what being human is like?” Castiel asks. These dreams and the alcohol and the pleasures of the flesh-he can understand now why temptation exists.
“The good parts,” Dean says, and he brushes away an eyelash that’s fallen onto Castiel’s cheek. “All this time you were missing out. Virtue’s totally overrated.”
“Why are you doing this?” Castiel feels something inside him, a yearning to reach out and touch Dean, to hold him close. This desire he does manage to resist.
“I’m giving you what you want,” Dean replies.
“I don’t want-” Castiel glances over at the window, at the darkened night sky. “I do not seek sex when I come here.”
“No,” Dean says, and he caresses the side of Castiel’s face, forces him to look Dean again. “You want me.”
Onto Scene 4.
Words: 1135
Scene 1
Scene 2
Scene 3
Scene 4
Scene 5
Scene 3
Castiel is beginning to think that his severance from Heaven is taking a greater toll .
Scene 3
Castiel is beginning to think that his severance from Heaven is taking a greater toll than he had initially guessed.
He’s sitting on the couch of what appears to be a luxury high-rise hotel room. It’s a whole suite of rooms, with doors from the common room leading to a bedroom, a bathroom, and even a kitchen. The decoration is sumptuous yet modern, and one wall opens up in a huge picture window of a glittering cityscape beneath him. It's evening, wherever he is in this dream, and the city lights twinkle like stars while the actual night sky is dark and blotted with clouds.
“Swanky digs,” Dean says behind him, and Castiel’s not even surprised anymore. “You stepping up your game, Cas? Trying to impress little ol’ me?”
Castiel doesn’t know quite how to respond, but he finds that often to be the case when it comes to Dean. He stops gazing out the window, however, and looks at Dean instead, who is pulling the champagne bottle out of an ice bucket on the coffee table. “I don’t remember falling asleep.”
“Most people don’t,” Dean says as he pours the champagne into two elegant crystal flutes. “It’s normal.”
“I am not normal people,” Castiel says, but the protest sounds weak to his ears. “At least-I should not be.”
“Have a drink.” Dean holds out a flute filled with bubbling gold liquid. “It’s good. It’ll take the edge off.”
“The edge of what?” Castiel asks as he accepts the glass.
“The edge of life,” Dean grins, and then shakes his head at Castiel’s puzzlement. “Forget it. It’ll make you feel better. Drink up.” He holds up his glass and then swallows the champagne down in one long swallow, Adam’s apple moving smoothly along the line of his throat.
After a second, Castiel copies Dean’s movements, and the first burst of bubbles is a little startling, but pleasantly so. The liquid tingles as it goes down, and when he finishes the glass, Dean fills it with more. “I do not think this is the best use of our time,” Castiel says as Dean drinks his second glass and gestures for Castiel to do the same.
“We’ve gone over this before, Cas. This is a dream, and there aren’t really that many good uses for dream time,” Dean says. “But if you’d like to do something else while we’re here, I’m all ears.” Dean’s comment is innocuous, but there’s a note in his voice that stirs something inside Castiel--that feeling Dean had stirred the last time they’d met like this.
Castiel gulps down his champagne, and this time, willingly holds out his hand for more. “Will we be doing more of-of what we did in the last dream?”
A slow smile spreads across Dean’s face, and it’s beautiful-sexual, but with surprising sweetness and joy alongside the lust. There’s a kind of happiness that Castiel hasn’t seen Dean wear in a very long time. “You mean you wanna make out on the couch?”
Castiel looks down at the couch he’s sitting on and supposes he has no particular objection to it, and says as much. Dean throws his head back and laughs (though Castiel doesn't quite understand what's funny), and then pours the last of the bottle into Castiel’s glass.
After Castiel drinks it all down, Dean sits down beside him and puts a hand on his knee. His lips are soft against Castiel’s, and now that he knows what to expect, they move to open mouthed kisses almost immediately.
Castiel keeps his arms at his sides stiffly, not certain what to do with them now that they’re not dancing. But Dean runs his hands all over Castiel’s body self-assuredly, tracing Castiel’s neck, shoulders, and back. Castiel feels gooseflesh rise up when Dean grazes the bare skin with his fingertips, and a rush of heat gather below his waist.
Dean notices too, and chuckles, pulling away a little. “Guess you’re a fan, huh?”
Castiel shakes his head and stares down as his lap, where the protrusion is very visible. He understands the physical process of arousal and eventual ejaculation, but the actual sensations are much more than he expected. Heightening the intensity is a gentle tug of heat buzzing through his body-the alcohol, perhaps. “The human body is strange,” Castiel says, and Dean smiles as he slides off the couch onto the rug-covered floor.
Dean positions himself between Castiel’s knees and unbuckles his belt. “Let me take care of that for you.”
A small part of his mind tells Castiel he ought to push Dean away, or at least not lift his hips to allow Dean to slide off his pants and his underwear. This is not something Castiel should be indulging in-not even in the context of a false reality-when Dean is his charge and the fate of the world rests on both their heads. But Castiel can’t seem to move his legs under Dean’s palms, or look away when Dean kisses up Castiel’s knee to his inner thigh, finally closing his mouth around Castiel’s erection in an explosion of sensation the likes of which Castiel has never experienced before.
The heat, the perfect wet suction, the way Dean looks on his knees before him-all of it causes Castiel to try to buck his hips up instinctively, but Dean holds him firmly to the couch with surprising strength and ease. But all thoughts slip away as the incredible feelings continue and improve and finally spiral up in an incredible peak Castiel can only assume is an orgasm.
When the pleasure subsides and he can focus his attention enough to open his eyes, Castiel finds Dean sitting next to him again, watching him with a satisfied smile. “Good stuff, right?” Dean says, and Castiel can only agree. Dean’s eyes rake over Castiel’s flushed body with a mixture of emotions Castiel can’t begin to identify without the ability to touch Dean’s mind. “You’re getting to be pretty human now, aren’t you?”
“Is this what being human is like?” Castiel asks. These dreams and the alcohol and the pleasures of the flesh-he can understand now why temptation exists.
“The good parts,” Dean says, and he brushes away an eyelash that’s fallen onto Castiel’s cheek. “All this time you were missing out. Virtue’s totally overrated.”
“Why are you doing this?” Castiel feels something inside him, a yearning to reach out and touch Dean, to hold him close. This desire he does manage to resist.
“I’m giving you what you want,” Dean replies.
“I don’t want-” Castiel glances over at the window, at the darkened night sky. “I do not seek sex when I come here.”
“No,” Dean says, and he caresses the side of Castiel’s face, forces him to look Dean again. “You want me.”
Onto Scene 4.