SPN: Fifty Miles Out
Fandom: Supernatural
Main characters: Dean, Castiel
Referenced characters: Sam
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Contains: Sex
Rating: R
Summary: Castiel has a dirty mouth and Dean has no idea where he gets it from. For rounds_of_kink.
It's weird, but Castiel still manages to sound something like innocent when he leans forward and whispers in Dean's ear, "I want to fuck you."
They've got fifty more miles to go and Dean has been trying not to think about Castiel there in the back seat. Sam's asleep, which is one good thing, but there's fifty miles and Castiel's breath is warm against his jaw and neck, and Jesus, he can't imagine anything much worse than having to drive fifty miles hopelessly turned on. And then they'd still have to get a room and get rid of Sam for long enough for them to get their clothes off and have at least one orgasm.
Dean clears his throat carefully. "Cas..."
He has to shift a little to get more comfortable when Castiel leans closer, nibbling at his earlobe, smiling against his skin. Dean can't see him, but he knows that smile, and yeah, no, there's nothing innocent about Castiel right now. "I want to do it so slowly, Dean. Until you're out of your mind."
"Cas," he says again, his hands tighter on the wheel.
"Until you beg," he whispers, barely more than a breath, and somehow that's worse. Dean shudders a little. He snatches a glance at Sam -- snoring, mouth open, head slipping further and further down where he's resting it.
"I don't think -- "
"Want to tease you," Castiel says, and Dean would point out that he's already doing that, with words alone, but he has to try and keep some of his attention for the road. "Want to drive you crazy, Dean." He runs his fingertips over Dean's shoulder, over the sleeve that conceals the burn, the handprint, Castiel's mark, and Dean takes a deep, steadying breath -- and loses all of his calm again when Castiel licks his neck, nuzzles just behind his ear, and whispers again. "Want you to be so hard. Want you to be aching for it. Want your cock to be leaking so when we're alone I can just unzip your jeans and push them down and taste you."
"Who the hell taught you to talk like this?" Dean asks, gripping the steering wheel tighter and tighter, white-knuckled, even though he's been easing off the gas for the last mile while Castiel whispers distractingly.
"You like it, don't you?" Castiel asks, and smiles again as he pulls back -- Dean can hear the smile in the warmth of his voice. He keeps his hand warm over the mark for a moment longer, but then he's sat all the way back and Dean tries not to feel too disappointed. It's ridiculous how he craves just so much as that simple touch. He'd almost feel cold -- except the car is stuffy, warm, and he's so damn hard, and his shirt is sticking to the small of his back in an uncomfortable, distracting way.
"Obviously," he says. "You're an asshole, doing this to me. We've got fifty miles left."
"Not quite fifty," Castiel says, unperturbed. The asshole.
Main characters: Dean, Castiel
Referenced characters: Sam
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Contains: Sex
Rating: R
Summary: Castiel has a dirty mouth and Dean has no idea where he gets it from. For rounds_of_kink.
It's weird, but Castiel still manages to sound something like innocent when he leans forward and whispers in Dean's ear, "I want to fuck you."
They've got fifty more miles to go and Dean has been trying not to think about Castiel there in the back seat. Sam's asleep, which is one good thing, but there's fifty miles and Castiel's breath is warm against his jaw and neck, and Jesus, he can't imagine anything much worse than having to drive fifty miles hopelessly turned on. And then they'd still have to get a room and get rid of Sam for long enough for them to get their clothes off and have at least one orgasm.
Dean clears his throat carefully. "Cas..."
He has to shift a little to get more comfortable when Castiel leans closer, nibbling at his earlobe, smiling against his skin. Dean can't see him, but he knows that smile, and yeah, no, there's nothing innocent about Castiel right now. "I want to do it so slowly, Dean. Until you're out of your mind."
"Cas," he says again, his hands tighter on the wheel.
"Until you beg," he whispers, barely more than a breath, and somehow that's worse. Dean shudders a little. He snatches a glance at Sam -- snoring, mouth open, head slipping further and further down where he's resting it.
"I don't think -- "
"Want to tease you," Castiel says, and Dean would point out that he's already doing that, with words alone, but he has to try and keep some of his attention for the road. "Want to drive you crazy, Dean." He runs his fingertips over Dean's shoulder, over the sleeve that conceals the burn, the handprint, Castiel's mark, and Dean takes a deep, steadying breath -- and loses all of his calm again when Castiel licks his neck, nuzzles just behind his ear, and whispers again. "Want you to be so hard. Want you to be aching for it. Want your cock to be leaking so when we're alone I can just unzip your jeans and push them down and taste you."
"Who the hell taught you to talk like this?" Dean asks, gripping the steering wheel tighter and tighter, white-knuckled, even though he's been easing off the gas for the last mile while Castiel whispers distractingly.
"You like it, don't you?" Castiel asks, and smiles again as he pulls back -- Dean can hear the smile in the warmth of his voice. He keeps his hand warm over the mark for a moment longer, but then he's sat all the way back and Dean tries not to feel too disappointed. It's ridiculous how he craves just so much as that simple touch. He'd almost feel cold -- except the car is stuffy, warm, and he's so damn hard, and his shirt is sticking to the small of his back in an uncomfortable, distracting way.
"Obviously," he says. "You're an asshole, doing this to me. We've got fifty miles left."
"Not quite fifty," Castiel says, unperturbed. The asshole.