Running from you, running to you...
Title: Running from you, running to you...
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Angsty!sex
Spoilers: 6.20 coda
Characters: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: 1,800
Summary: Dean is barley thinking, just acting. Acting on every emotion he has had since they first met. Every longing look, every accidental touch...
Dean has to get out, to move, to be anywhere else. It's 1:15am. It's dark, moonless. The air is suffocating, clinging to his skin and making his limbs heavy. It is still and quiet, the sheer lack of sound ringing in his ears, deafening him with its emptiness. He has to get out.
He shoves his feet into his boots, not caring that his socks are all bunched up and uncomfortable, everything is uncomfortable now. He grabs his keys, stubs his foot on a pile of books, knocking them over in the dark.
Upstairs, Sam rolls over. He hears the front door open and slam shut. He rolls onto his back. A moment later he hears the Impala engine start, wheels scattering loose gravel. Sam sighs, he would go after Dean, but there is nothing he can say, so he closes his eyes again and gives Dean his space. He has given up praying, so just hopes that Dean will be alright, that they will all be alright.
Dean drives down the empty road, not knowing where he is going, just going somewhere, anywhere. He stares out at the road, not really seeing it, trying not to think. His mind races despite his efforts. Images flash too quickly to keep up with, jumping randomly, but not random at all. He sees Castiel in a ring of fire, Castiel looking at him with lost blue eyes, he sees Castiel turn away from him.
He clenches his jaw, and tries to ignore the ache behind his eyes, the tightness in his chest. He can't though, so clenches his jaw even tighter. His hands grip the steering wheel, clenching and unclenching, in anger, in desperation, in an almost lost hope that he can't quite give up.
Dean is angry, at himself, at Castiel, at every damn thing in the world. He is angry that Castiel didn't confide in him, he is angry that he never thought to ask. He is angry and not angry at all.
He drives for an hour, until he can't drive anymore. The road is blurring before him, the world is blurring. Nothing is what it should be, and he doesn't know how to fix it. He yanks the wheel, and the Impala skids to a stop in an empty field.
Dean pulls the door open with more force than is necessary. He walks out into the emptiness on legs that shake so badly he can barely stand. He wants to shout at the stars, he wants to scream until he is hoarse, but no words will come to him, which just adds to his frustration.
Dean runs his hands though his hair, his eyes achingly dry with tears that will not come. He wants to understand, he wants to help, just wants to reach out, but feels like he is drowning in murky water and can't find a way to the surface.
He closes his eyes, the things he can't say racing through his mind, in a tangled mess of images and emotions that no language could ever convey.
Even in the darkness, and amid the cacophony of emotions drowning out the world, he feels the shift in the air behind him. He doesn't want to turn around; he doesn't want to see those damn eyes looking at him with a plea for help that hasn't be spoken, that he has had a thousand opportunities to see, but had ignored.
He turns around. Hopes that the darkness hides his face, hides all the emotions that have never been said out loud. He hopes all the things that have lain between them for so long can remain unspoken, unacknowledged. To open those emotions to the world would be to open a Pandora's Box that could never be closed again. All the pain now, would pale into insignificance compared to what will happen if everything between them came into the light, if it crashes against the rocky shore like a shipwreck in a storm.
It is too much, it is not enough. It is everything.
As he turns, the headlights he left on shine on his face, revealing everything he isn't ready to reveal. Castiel hesitates, before taking a step towards Dean. He is hidden in the shadows, they seem to cling to him, caress him, like he is something that this world can never know.
Dean lets out a breath he hadn't know he was holding. Castiel stops a few paces away. Dean wants to move closer, to close the divide, but his feet won't move. He stares at Castiel, at the darkness where his face should be. He doesn't want to see the lies that have been peeled back, the truths laid bare. Yet the darkness is worse.
He steps to the side, forcing Castiel to turn to face him, the light cascades off the side of his face, revealing all the angles of his features, like the dawn sun blanketing mountain tops. They don't say anything, there is nothing and too much to say at the same time.
"Dean..." Castiel ventures eventually, but says nothing more.
The stars move overhead, the world turns, an eternity passes in an instant.
"Dean, let me explain," Castiel says, his voice rasps on the words, raw with emotion.
"Cas, no."
"Dean, please..."
"You don't have to," Dean interrupts.
Castiel looks at him with eyes full of pain and regret, with determination and a thousand other things.
"You don't have to, I know why, I know..." Dean pauses, frustrated that the right words won't come, that there were no right words.
"It's a crap plan, you should have come to us, you should have asked me...I should have been there for you," Dean finishes quietly, the words inadequate.
Dean can't identify the emotions flashing across Castiel's face. Can't, doesn't want to, he doesn't know if there is a difference. The confusion fuels his anger. The anger is easier, safer.
"Damn it Cas, you stupid, stubborn son of a bitch."
"I've made mistakes, I know that, but I did what I had to do."
"What you had to? Really? You had to lie to us, to me?"
That was the crux of it. Everything Castiel had done, it didn't really matter, they had all fucked up, and they all had a permanent residence in the camp ground of the morally grey. It isn't Crowley, it isn't purgatory. It's the lies.
He wants to scream again, he wants to strike out, he wants to hurt something. He wants to destroy everything that fills the space between them. He stares at Castiel and Castiel stares back at him. He doesn't know what to do, so does the one thing he never thought he would. He steps over that line that should never be crossed, that once blurred can never be redrawn.
He doesn't do it with soft words and touches. He does it with fury, with raw emotion that has no other outlet.
He clenches his fist, he strikes out.
He feels the skin on his knuckles split as he connects with Castiel's jaw, he watches as Castiel barely seems to feel the punch. He watches the echo of his own fury, his frustrations, in Castiel's eyes.
Pure wrath, pure desire. Everything between them explodes in fists and blood, in pent up emotions that neither has had the courage to express. It comes out raw and painful, unstoppable.
Dean doesn't know how they go from releasing years of frustration and craving in punches, to something else. He suddenly finds himself thrown against the side of the Impala, Castiel leans into him, blood from Dean's knuckles smeared across his jaw, raw need swirls in his eyes.
Dean kisses him. He doesn't know how, he is barley thinking, just acting. Acting on every emotion he has had since they first met. Every longing look, every accidental touch. It all culminates in the crush of lips, in hands clenched in Castiel's coat, in mingled breaths as raw need takes over.
Dean doesn't know who is in control, it doesn't matter, he doesn't care. For once he is getting what he wants, what he has needed for longer than he cares to admit.
At first it is all lips, caught between teeth with the weight of the kiss, before he feels Castiel open up to him. He darts his tongue into Castiel's mouth, tasting him, drawing him into himself, as if the sheer force of the kiss can bind them as one. He forgets to breathe for a moment, before sucking the air from Castiel, not wanting to stop.
He slides his tongue around Castiel's, the conflict between them playing itself out in the thrust of tongue against tongue. He scrunches both fists in Castiel's trench coat, pulls him nearer, raises his own body to push closer than seems possible.
Castiel groans, the sound reverberates against Dean's lips, driving him over the edge with desire. He thrust his hips upwards, wanting release, wanting everything. His thigh slips between Castiel's, seeking contact, friction. He can feel Castiel's hardness against him, he grinds against it, not caring if the movement is awkward and uncomfortable.
He feels Castiel's hand push inside his coat, fingers seeking skin, seeking warmth and contact. Castiel finds his way to Dean's waist, impatiently pushes Dean's shirt up to run his fingers along Dean's stomach. Strong fingers push into the skin, the warmth of his touch searing amidst the cool brush of the night air. Dean moans at the touch, arches into it. It's agonisingly arousing, he tingles with goose bumps as Castiel leaves trails of fire across his skin.
His own fingers reach for Castiel's tie, he tugs it loose, tears at the buttons of his shirt. He groans in impatience when the touch of skin beneath his hands is not enough. He reaches lower, rubbing at Castiel, the thin material of his cheap suit pants between them, but it doesn't matter as Castiel makes a noise from somewhere deep in his throat, the sound causes Dean's cock to pulse in response. He can feel pre-come through the material as Castiel pushes into his hand. Dean pushes his hips forward rubbing against Castiel's thigh.
All the pent up emotion and need is too much. It ends with uncontrolled thrusting, Castiel's fingers dig into the flesh on Dean's chest as his own fingers entwine in Castiel's hair. Their rasping breaths mingle as Dean comes, followed quickly by Castiel.
Castiel leans against him, as if his body is too heavy a weight to hold up on his own. Their foreheads rest against each other, their breath frosts in the air between them. They say nothing. There is nothing to say. There is still so much in the space between them, but for the moment it doesn't matter.
Maybe it never did.
...................
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Angsty!sex
Spoilers: 6.20 coda
Characters: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: 1,800
Summary: Dean is barley thinking, just acting. Acting on every emotion he has had since they first met. Every longing look, every accidental touch...
Dean has to get out, to move, to be anywhere else. It's 1:15am. It's dark, moonless. The air is suffocating, clinging to his skin and making his limbs heavy. It is still and quiet, the sheer lack of sound ringing in his ears, deafening him with its emptiness. He has to get out.
He shoves his feet into his boots, not caring that his socks are all bunched up and uncomfortable, everything is uncomfortable now. He grabs his keys, stubs his foot on a pile of books, knocking them over in the dark.
Upstairs, Sam rolls over. He hears the front door open and slam shut. He rolls onto his back. A moment later he hears the Impala engine start, wheels scattering loose gravel. Sam sighs, he would go after Dean, but there is nothing he can say, so he closes his eyes again and gives Dean his space. He has given up praying, so just hopes that Dean will be alright, that they will all be alright.
Dean drives down the empty road, not knowing where he is going, just going somewhere, anywhere. He stares out at the road, not really seeing it, trying not to think. His mind races despite his efforts. Images flash too quickly to keep up with, jumping randomly, but not random at all. He sees Castiel in a ring of fire, Castiel looking at him with lost blue eyes, he sees Castiel turn away from him.
He clenches his jaw, and tries to ignore the ache behind his eyes, the tightness in his chest. He can't though, so clenches his jaw even tighter. His hands grip the steering wheel, clenching and unclenching, in anger, in desperation, in an almost lost hope that he can't quite give up.
Dean is angry, at himself, at Castiel, at every damn thing in the world. He is angry that Castiel didn't confide in him, he is angry that he never thought to ask. He is angry and not angry at all.
He drives for an hour, until he can't drive anymore. The road is blurring before him, the world is blurring. Nothing is what it should be, and he doesn't know how to fix it. He yanks the wheel, and the Impala skids to a stop in an empty field.
Dean pulls the door open with more force than is necessary. He walks out into the emptiness on legs that shake so badly he can barely stand. He wants to shout at the stars, he wants to scream until he is hoarse, but no words will come to him, which just adds to his frustration.
Dean runs his hands though his hair, his eyes achingly dry with tears that will not come. He wants to understand, he wants to help, just wants to reach out, but feels like he is drowning in murky water and can't find a way to the surface.
He closes his eyes, the things he can't say racing through his mind, in a tangled mess of images and emotions that no language could ever convey.
Even in the darkness, and amid the cacophony of emotions drowning out the world, he feels the shift in the air behind him. He doesn't want to turn around; he doesn't want to see those damn eyes looking at him with a plea for help that hasn't be spoken, that he has had a thousand opportunities to see, but had ignored.
He turns around. Hopes that the darkness hides his face, hides all the emotions that have never been said out loud. He hopes all the things that have lain between them for so long can remain unspoken, unacknowledged. To open those emotions to the world would be to open a Pandora's Box that could never be closed again. All the pain now, would pale into insignificance compared to what will happen if everything between them came into the light, if it crashes against the rocky shore like a shipwreck in a storm.
It is too much, it is not enough. It is everything.
As he turns, the headlights he left on shine on his face, revealing everything he isn't ready to reveal. Castiel hesitates, before taking a step towards Dean. He is hidden in the shadows, they seem to cling to him, caress him, like he is something that this world can never know.
Dean lets out a breath he hadn't know he was holding. Castiel stops a few paces away. Dean wants to move closer, to close the divide, but his feet won't move. He stares at Castiel, at the darkness where his face should be. He doesn't want to see the lies that have been peeled back, the truths laid bare. Yet the darkness is worse.
He steps to the side, forcing Castiel to turn to face him, the light cascades off the side of his face, revealing all the angles of his features, like the dawn sun blanketing mountain tops. They don't say anything, there is nothing and too much to say at the same time.
"Dean..." Castiel ventures eventually, but says nothing more.
The stars move overhead, the world turns, an eternity passes in an instant.
"Dean, let me explain," Castiel says, his voice rasps on the words, raw with emotion.
"Cas, no."
"Dean, please..."
"You don't have to," Dean interrupts.
Castiel looks at him with eyes full of pain and regret, with determination and a thousand other things.
"You don't have to, I know why, I know..." Dean pauses, frustrated that the right words won't come, that there were no right words.
"It's a crap plan, you should have come to us, you should have asked me...I should have been there for you," Dean finishes quietly, the words inadequate.
Dean can't identify the emotions flashing across Castiel's face. Can't, doesn't want to, he doesn't know if there is a difference. The confusion fuels his anger. The anger is easier, safer.
"Damn it Cas, you stupid, stubborn son of a bitch."
"I've made mistakes, I know that, but I did what I had to do."
"What you had to? Really? You had to lie to us, to me?"
That was the crux of it. Everything Castiel had done, it didn't really matter, they had all fucked up, and they all had a permanent residence in the camp ground of the morally grey. It isn't Crowley, it isn't purgatory. It's the lies.
He wants to scream again, he wants to strike out, he wants to hurt something. He wants to destroy everything that fills the space between them. He stares at Castiel and Castiel stares back at him. He doesn't know what to do, so does the one thing he never thought he would. He steps over that line that should never be crossed, that once blurred can never be redrawn.
He doesn't do it with soft words and touches. He does it with fury, with raw emotion that has no other outlet.
He clenches his fist, he strikes out.
He feels the skin on his knuckles split as he connects with Castiel's jaw, he watches as Castiel barely seems to feel the punch. He watches the echo of his own fury, his frustrations, in Castiel's eyes.
Pure wrath, pure desire. Everything between them explodes in fists and blood, in pent up emotions that neither has had the courage to express. It comes out raw and painful, unstoppable.
Dean doesn't know how they go from releasing years of frustration and craving in punches, to something else. He suddenly finds himself thrown against the side of the Impala, Castiel leans into him, blood from Dean's knuckles smeared across his jaw, raw need swirls in his eyes.
Dean kisses him. He doesn't know how, he is barley thinking, just acting. Acting on every emotion he has had since they first met. Every longing look, every accidental touch. It all culminates in the crush of lips, in hands clenched in Castiel's coat, in mingled breaths as raw need takes over.
Dean doesn't know who is in control, it doesn't matter, he doesn't care. For once he is getting what he wants, what he has needed for longer than he cares to admit.
At first it is all lips, caught between teeth with the weight of the kiss, before he feels Castiel open up to him. He darts his tongue into Castiel's mouth, tasting him, drawing him into himself, as if the sheer force of the kiss can bind them as one. He forgets to breathe for a moment, before sucking the air from Castiel, not wanting to stop.
He slides his tongue around Castiel's, the conflict between them playing itself out in the thrust of tongue against tongue. He scrunches both fists in Castiel's trench coat, pulls him nearer, raises his own body to push closer than seems possible.
Castiel groans, the sound reverberates against Dean's lips, driving him over the edge with desire. He thrust his hips upwards, wanting release, wanting everything. His thigh slips between Castiel's, seeking contact, friction. He can feel Castiel's hardness against him, he grinds against it, not caring if the movement is awkward and uncomfortable.
He feels Castiel's hand push inside his coat, fingers seeking skin, seeking warmth and contact. Castiel finds his way to Dean's waist, impatiently pushes Dean's shirt up to run his fingers along Dean's stomach. Strong fingers push into the skin, the warmth of his touch searing amidst the cool brush of the night air. Dean moans at the touch, arches into it. It's agonisingly arousing, he tingles with goose bumps as Castiel leaves trails of fire across his skin.
His own fingers reach for Castiel's tie, he tugs it loose, tears at the buttons of his shirt. He groans in impatience when the touch of skin beneath his hands is not enough. He reaches lower, rubbing at Castiel, the thin material of his cheap suit pants between them, but it doesn't matter as Castiel makes a noise from somewhere deep in his throat, the sound causes Dean's cock to pulse in response. He can feel pre-come through the material as Castiel pushes into his hand. Dean pushes his hips forward rubbing against Castiel's thigh.
All the pent up emotion and need is too much. It ends with uncontrolled thrusting, Castiel's fingers dig into the flesh on Dean's chest as his own fingers entwine in Castiel's hair. Their rasping breaths mingle as Dean comes, followed quickly by Castiel.
Castiel leans against him, as if his body is too heavy a weight to hold up on his own. Their foreheads rest against each other, their breath frosts in the air between them. They say nothing. There is nothing to say. There is still so much in the space between them, but for the moment it doesn't matter.
Maybe it never did.
...................