fic, Supernatural: I sometimes realize I could only be as good as you'll let me (Dean/Castiel), NC17
Title: I sometimes realize I could only be as good as you'll let me
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: consensual d/s, orgasm denial
Words: 903
Summary: Cas, Dean thinks, is a fucking sadist.
Spoilers: general S5.
Disclaimer: SPN isn't mine, like it's news whatsoever.
A/N: originally written for liadan14 for the five acts meme; the prompts were coming untouched and orgasm denial. Since when do I write this unrepentant porn, I have no idea. Title from Pearl Jam.
Cas, Dean thinks, is a fucking sadist.
I can hear you, Dean, resonates in his head, and yeah. Damn. He had forgotten about the whole telepathy thing currently going on. He should’ve never brought the subject up. He really shouldn’t have.
Not that he can do much now, not when Cas is sitting on a chair, perfectly clothed, on the other side of the room, while Dean is on the bed, wearing just one of his flannels which is open anyway. The feathered sadist is actually using mojo on him to force him still on the bed, and while he can half-move his hands and head and feet, he can’t actually stand up or turn on his side or anything else.
And fuck, he’s hard, so much, and everything Cas has done until now has been speaking and staring and talking inside his head, and reading his mind on top of it.
Not to mention that he has fucking followed the sadist’s indications and touched himself everywhere but where it matters, and he really doesn’t think he can hold on that much longer.
“Cas…”
“No,” Cas whispers, his voice low but resonating perfectly in the room, and Dean bites down on his lip. The most humiliating thing is that it’s not like he could come anyway, there’s something Cas is pulling preventing him from that, but even if Cas wasn’t stopping him, he’d be forcing himself not to on his own.
That’s quite interesting to hear, Dean. Maybe next time it could be… worth trying it, he hears inside his head. Fuuck.
“Open your eyes,” Cas says again, sounding quite decisive. “I want you to watch yourself,” and fuck, Dean doesn’t really want to, it’s humiliating enough, but he does and looks down at himself anyway and damn, seeing how hard he is makes him hurt just by glancing.
I wish you could realize how beautiful you look like this, and why the hell must Cas really say this kind of shit in his head? It’s so not what anyone else would say, but then again Cas is most definitely not anyone else.
I am pleased to see that you did get that part.
Yeah. He fucking did.
“Cas, please, just…”
“Let me decide,” Cas says before standing up and coming closer to the bed, until he’s sitting right next to Dean’s hip without still touching him. Suddenly his hand barely, barely runs along Dean’s chest and he moans so shamelessly that he can barely recognize himself.
“I think I might let you,” Cas says, and Dean breathes out in relief. “But no touching,” he adds, and Dean groans.
“How… I can’t… I don’t…”
Cas looks down at him and damn, how can he turn from downright evil to soft and plainly fond in just a second, Dean doesn’t know-
You can, he hears inside his head, and you will. You most definitely will, and damndamndamn, when was it that Cas looking at him like that as he thinks at Dean, or tells him, he doesn’t fucking know, that he will also come so hard that he won’t be able to remember his name after and without any help, became such a fucking turn on? Maybe it’s because it shows him exactly how much of an angel Cas still is, despite the slow falling, or because he has to admit that he likes it way too much when he doesn’t have to be the one with everything in control, or… he doesn’t know. He really can’t say.
“Look at yourself, not at me,” Cas whispers right in his hear as he lowers down and he’s still not touching him at all, and Dean moves his head and does, and fuck, the sight is almost obscene if you ask him. It can’t be otherwise, not when he can see exactly how dark his cock is and when he can feel himself leaking and he’s forced to take account of it.
That’s obscene just because you see things the wrong way.
Fuck.
There’s nothing about this that is such.
Just Cas could make ordinary talking sound so filthy. Him and that goddamn low and deep and vibrating voice.
You can let go. Do it. Now.
He wishes he could close his eyes but he doesn’t and damn, damn, he can’t tear his stare away as he does indeed come. Hard, fast, all over himself, with all of his (finally free to move) body shivering and writhing, and without a single brush of a finger against his cock… just as Cas said. And damn, it’s long and hard and he can’t help thrashing on the bed, and he couldn’t probably tell you his own name if you asked him right now.
He lets pleasure run through his nerves as sweat trickles down his temples, and then he doesn’t exactly pass out but he feels so gone that he can’t even open his eyes. Which is totally the only reason why, when a perfectly clean hand reaches up and tangles through his hair he curls into the touch at once, but he’s really too out of it to realize what he’s doing.
He never sees that, at some point while he was letting go, Cas’ other hand had reached down into the suit’s trousers. If he had, he probably would have felt kind of proud. But he doesn’t, and for now he just basks in the afterglow.
End.
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: consensual d/s, orgasm denial
Words: 903
Summary: Cas, Dean thinks, is a fucking sadist.
Spoilers: general S5.
Disclaimer: SPN isn't mine, like it's news whatsoever.
A/N: originally written for liadan14 for the five acts meme; the prompts were coming untouched and orgasm denial. Since when do I write this unrepentant porn, I have no idea. Title from Pearl Jam.
Cas, Dean thinks, is a fucking sadist.
I can hear you, Dean, resonates in his head, and yeah. Damn. He had forgotten about the whole telepathy thing currently going on. He should’ve never brought the subject up. He really shouldn’t have.
Not that he can do much now, not when Cas is sitting on a chair, perfectly clothed, on the other side of the room, while Dean is on the bed, wearing just one of his flannels which is open anyway. The feathered sadist is actually using mojo on him to force him still on the bed, and while he can half-move his hands and head and feet, he can’t actually stand up or turn on his side or anything else.
And fuck, he’s hard, so much, and everything Cas has done until now has been speaking and staring and talking inside his head, and reading his mind on top of it.
Not to mention that he has fucking followed the sadist’s indications and touched himself everywhere but where it matters, and he really doesn’t think he can hold on that much longer.
“Cas…”
“No,” Cas whispers, his voice low but resonating perfectly in the room, and Dean bites down on his lip. The most humiliating thing is that it’s not like he could come anyway, there’s something Cas is pulling preventing him from that, but even if Cas wasn’t stopping him, he’d be forcing himself not to on his own.
That’s quite interesting to hear, Dean. Maybe next time it could be… worth trying it, he hears inside his head. Fuuck.
“Open your eyes,” Cas says again, sounding quite decisive. “I want you to watch yourself,” and fuck, Dean doesn’t really want to, it’s humiliating enough, but he does and looks down at himself anyway and damn, seeing how hard he is makes him hurt just by glancing.
I wish you could realize how beautiful you look like this, and why the hell must Cas really say this kind of shit in his head? It’s so not what anyone else would say, but then again Cas is most definitely not anyone else.
I am pleased to see that you did get that part.
Yeah. He fucking did.
“Cas, please, just…”
“Let me decide,” Cas says before standing up and coming closer to the bed, until he’s sitting right next to Dean’s hip without still touching him. Suddenly his hand barely, barely runs along Dean’s chest and he moans so shamelessly that he can barely recognize himself.
“I think I might let you,” Cas says, and Dean breathes out in relief. “But no touching,” he adds, and Dean groans.
“How… I can’t… I don’t…”
Cas looks down at him and damn, how can he turn from downright evil to soft and plainly fond in just a second, Dean doesn’t know-
You can, he hears inside his head, and you will. You most definitely will, and damndamndamn, when was it that Cas looking at him like that as he thinks at Dean, or tells him, he doesn’t fucking know, that he will also come so hard that he won’t be able to remember his name after and without any help, became such a fucking turn on? Maybe it’s because it shows him exactly how much of an angel Cas still is, despite the slow falling, or because he has to admit that he likes it way too much when he doesn’t have to be the one with everything in control, or… he doesn’t know. He really can’t say.
“Look at yourself, not at me,” Cas whispers right in his hear as he lowers down and he’s still not touching him at all, and Dean moves his head and does, and fuck, the sight is almost obscene if you ask him. It can’t be otherwise, not when he can see exactly how dark his cock is and when he can feel himself leaking and he’s forced to take account of it.
That’s obscene just because you see things the wrong way.
Fuck.
There’s nothing about this that is such.
Just Cas could make ordinary talking sound so filthy. Him and that goddamn low and deep and vibrating voice.
You can let go. Do it. Now.
He wishes he could close his eyes but he doesn’t and damn, damn, he can’t tear his stare away as he does indeed come. Hard, fast, all over himself, with all of his (finally free to move) body shivering and writhing, and without a single brush of a finger against his cock… just as Cas said. And damn, it’s long and hard and he can’t help thrashing on the bed, and he couldn’t probably tell you his own name if you asked him right now.
He lets pleasure run through his nerves as sweat trickles down his temples, and then he doesn’t exactly pass out but he feels so gone that he can’t even open his eyes. Which is totally the only reason why, when a perfectly clean hand reaches up and tangles through his hair he curls into the touch at once, but he’s really too out of it to realize what he’s doing.
He never sees that, at some point while he was letting go, Cas’ other hand had reached down into the suit’s trousers. If he had, he probably would have felt kind of proud. But he doesn’t, and for now he just basks in the afterglow.
End.