AU fiiiiic!heavenonhighFebruary 18 2012, 00:35:36 UTC
[His arm draws across her body, bending to wrap around her and curl a hand over her shoulder. He hasn't managed to pick his head up from the blanket, though he does move a bit, shifting so that his nose brushes against her skin, a hot, tingling sensation sensation that draws a gasp from lips parted against the fuzzy fibres.]
Mmhm...
[He lets his fingers stroke and press against the bare skin of her shoulder, and it's so much more than everything else, so much better, and he shifts closer, body dragging over the blanket in a way that's just this side of too much, to bury his face in the side of her neck. He can feel the heat of his own breath against his face as it comes in short huffs and quiet gasps against her skin at the way that strands of Deanna'as hair brush against his cheek.
This is nice, this is perfect, this is... Not what he'd expected out of this blast from the past care of Zachariah. It'd been so long since he'd been this close to this time's Deanna; she has better things to do than hang around and get stoned, even if it is the obvious choice of a pastime now. There's nothing else, nothing that dulls the sharp edges of the end of the world like this... Except maybe sex. But unfortunately, as much as it pains him to admit, even Cas doesn't have the stamina for that 24/7, and so he has to settle for this-- it's an adequate replacement.
His lips tingle, almost tickled by the fibre of the carpet and he tilts his head, brushes them against the soft skin of the side of Deanna's neck in a way that for once is completely accidental... Not that it feels any less wonderful for its lack of intent. He groans, a low rumble in the back of his throat, and thinks that this little pissing contest might have been the best possible way for this night to go.]
It seriously might happen soon...... Or at least an AU 'verse for RP stuffs. Lol.arighteousladyFebruary 18 2012, 10:35:58 UTC
[Deanna's breath hitches, a flutter of her eyelashes and she shifts into it as his arm wraps around her, presses to her shoulder. It tingles, hot and intense, hugging that knife's edge of too much. She murmurs, low and heated as he shifts closer into her body. She's not sure if she likes the blanket or Cas better against her skin, but thankfully she doesn't have to choose.
And then he's not just holding onto her arm, his fingers are trailing against bare skin, leaving thin trails of heat and sensation that make her shake, press into his touch like the hedonistic creature she is. They're both pressing together, and she murmurs low as his face presses into the side of her neck. And honestly? She was too far gone to even care about Zachariah. Of course, it's not like she'd be too concerned about whether the holy douchebag was watching or not, outside of a few sharp comments. Deanna and modesty weren't words that belonged comfortably in the same sentence together.
There's a low murmur from her lips, stuttering and hitching as his lips drag against the skin of her neck and it flares hot, unfolds against her skin like flower petals. Her hand drags slowly down over his side, feeling the slight indents of ribs through skin and that amazing texture of his shirt. She's so blitzed out of her mind that it takes far too much effort, too many halting, gasping breaths of pleasure to figure out how to put fingers to her skin.]
Awwww yeah!heavenonhighFebruary 18 2012, 18:17:43 UTC
[He likes the way she presses into his fingers, likes the acknowledgement that it's as pleasant for Deanna as it is for him; the only thing better than this feeling is sharing it with someone else. Touching is good, but feeling reactions to that touch that change the way the sensations shiver through his body is better, so much better and he sighs contentedly as fingers continue to ghost over Deanna's skin.
His breath catches in his throat as he feels her hand moving against his side, catching in his shirt, pressing the ribbed fabric right against his skin, and he whimpers against her neck. It's not painful, not quite, but it's intense and he shifts closer, noses against the pulse point throbbing away as his fingers curl over her shoulder, blunt nails scraping just slightly over the edges of his handprint. There's another hitched gasp as her fingers smooth over his ribs, and the sound that follows when her fingers find bare skin is decidedly inappropriate, a mix of strangled curses and other blasphemies he'd never allow himself to say if he had any control over the matter.
The touch is perfect, hot and intense and it makes him gasp, makes him wish he had the capacity to tug his shirt off and feel skin on skin... He doesn't, though, and so all he can do is arch into the brush of fingers, mumble incoherently and curl against Deanna's body. He hasn't been this gone in a long, long time, and he'll probably be feeling burnt out and horrible for the next few days but he can't bring himself to care or regret it in the slightest.]
/sidetracked for hours. The internet is awwwful.arighteousladyFebruary 23 2012, 20:12:42 UTC
[Deanna rather wants to stay like this. It's warm and pleasant, and only her rough denims is something rough and too-intense against her sensitized nerves to be pleasant. Taking them off would be stellar, but she's a bit too gone, too distracted to manage that. She murmurs in soft pleasure as Cas keeps touching her, as her hands slide against his skin. The way his ribs feel under skin makes her shiver, lean in closer to his hands, to the simple press of their bodies against one another.
He curses, and it distantly makes her grin. She can't even such words from her Cas, but the fact that they ended up like this at all was rather incongruous to the one that she knows. But at the moment, it's good enough to not care. It's good enough to just lean into the warmth and the pressure and the contact and only care about touching more, feeling more, getting closer. Fuck Zachariah and whatever the Hell he was trying to teach her, this was perfect. Cas, breathing him in, absent drag of lips against his face as her hands erratically map over his torso. Fingers taking one path, and then distracted by some shift in the texture of his skin, or the way his shirt drags against the back of her hands.
She trembles, shivers as his nails scrape against the edge of that handprint scarred into her arm. And it's hot, a fire of pleasure that surges through her, makes her press into his body out of sheer desire to be closer. Touch more, that craving for contact. Pleasure makes everything better.]
/sidetracked for hours. The internet is awwwful.arighteousladyFebruary 23 2012, 20:29:20 UTC
[Deanna rather wants to stay like this. It's warm and pleasant, and only her rough denims is something rough and too-intense against her sensitized nerves to be pleasant. Taking them off would be stellar, but she's a bit too gone, too distracted to manage that. She murmurs in soft pleasure as Cas keeps touching her, as her hands slide against his skin. The way his ribs feel under skin makes her shiver, lean in closer to his hands, to the simple press of their bodies against one another.
He curses, and it distantly makes her grin. She can't even such words from her Cas, but the fact that they ended up like this at all was rather incongruous to the one that she knows. But at the moment, it's good enough to not care. It's good enough to just lean into the warmth and the pressure and the contact and only care about touching more, feeling more, getting closer. Fuck Zachariah and whatever the Hell he was trying to teach her, this was perfect. Cas, breathing him in, absent drag of lips against his face as her hands erratically map over his torso. Fingers taking one path, and then distracted by some shift in the texture of his skin, or the way his shirt drags against the back of her hands.
She trembles, shivers as his nails scrape against the edge of that handprint scarred into her arm. And it's hot, a fire of pleasure that surges through her, makes her press into his body out of sheer desire to be closer. Touch more, that craving for contact. Pleasure makes everything better.]
rofl I totally understand dude... tumblr got me yesterday =/ that and the grouchiness ugh :|heavenonhighFebruary 24 2012, 21:00:09 UTC
[Pleasure does make everything better. This world and all of the miserable people in it, the croates and the demons and the total lack of any hope that they might be able to fix things... Like this it's easy to forget, and Cas means to take full advantage of that, enjoy these few hours of being blissfully out of his mind. He knows it's entirely irresponsible, taking it to this extreme; if something happened, if there was a raid or even just one demon or croate running around in the camp he'd be utterly unable to do anything about it.
He doesn't care. He can't care, not when this is all he has.
Sighing, he shifts closer, letting his hand curl over Deanna's waist as her lips brush against his face absently. His breath is coming in ragged, uneven bursts against her skin, and he nuzzles his face into her neck, nosing at the corner of her jaw as her fingers trail over his bare skin.
There's something about the way they move, rhythmless and erratic, something about the fact that her hands are up and under his shirt that's making the feeling better. There's a sensuality to it that he's never been able to resist, not once he'd been exposed to it, and it makes him shiver, press closer, lips sliding over the soft skin of her throat. It's the worst kind of idea- he's seen where that kind of thing leads, where it'd lead with the Deanna of this time... But he can't make himself stop because it feels too good to resist.]
Mmhm...
[He lets his fingers stroke and press against the bare skin of her shoulder, and it's so much more than everything else, so much better, and he shifts closer, body dragging over the blanket in a way that's just this side of too much, to bury his face in the side of her neck. He can feel the heat of his own breath against his face as it comes in short huffs and quiet gasps against her skin at the way that strands of Deanna'as hair brush against his cheek.
This is nice, this is perfect, this is... Not what he'd expected out of this blast from the past care of Zachariah. It'd been so long since he'd been this close to this time's Deanna; she has better things to do than hang around and get stoned, even if it is the obvious choice of a pastime now. There's nothing else, nothing that dulls the sharp edges of the end of the world like this... Except maybe sex. But unfortunately, as much as it pains him to admit, even Cas doesn't have the stamina for that 24/7, and so he has to settle for this-- it's an adequate replacement.
His lips tingle, almost tickled by the fibre of the carpet and he tilts his head, brushes them against the soft skin of the side of Deanna's neck in a way that for once is completely accidental... Not that it feels any less wonderful for its lack of intent. He groans, a low rumble in the back of his throat, and thinks that this little pissing contest might have been the best possible way for this night to go.]
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And then he's not just holding onto her arm, his fingers are trailing against bare skin, leaving thin trails of heat and sensation that make her shake, press into his touch like the hedonistic creature she is. They're both pressing together, and she murmurs low as his face presses into the side of her neck. And honestly? She was too far gone to even care about Zachariah. Of course, it's not like she'd be too concerned about whether the holy douchebag was watching or not, outside of a few sharp comments. Deanna and modesty weren't words that belonged comfortably in the same sentence together.
There's a low murmur from her lips, stuttering and hitching as his lips drag against the skin of her neck and it flares hot, unfolds against her skin like flower petals. Her hand drags slowly down over his side, feeling the slight indents of ribs through skin and that amazing texture of his shirt. She's so blitzed out of her mind that it takes far too much effort, too many halting, gasping breaths of pleasure to figure out how to put fingers to her skin.]
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His breath catches in his throat as he feels her hand moving against his side, catching in his shirt, pressing the ribbed fabric right against his skin, and he whimpers against her neck. It's not painful, not quite, but it's intense and he shifts closer, noses against the pulse point throbbing away as his fingers curl over her shoulder, blunt nails scraping just slightly over the edges of his handprint. There's another hitched gasp as her fingers smooth over his ribs, and the sound that follows when her fingers find bare skin is decidedly inappropriate, a mix of strangled curses and other blasphemies he'd never allow himself to say if he had any control over the matter.
The touch is perfect, hot and intense and it makes him gasp, makes him wish he had the capacity to tug his shirt off and feel skin on skin... He doesn't, though, and so all he can do is arch into the brush of fingers, mumble incoherently and curl against Deanna's body. He hasn't been this gone in a long, long time, and he'll probably be feeling burnt out and horrible for the next few days but he can't bring himself to care or regret it in the slightest.]
Deanna...
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He curses, and it distantly makes her grin. She can't even such words from her Cas, but the fact that they ended up like this at all was rather incongruous to the one that she knows. But at the moment, it's good enough to not care. It's good enough to just lean into the warmth and the pressure and the contact and only care about touching more, feeling more, getting closer. Fuck Zachariah and whatever the Hell he was trying to teach her, this was perfect. Cas, breathing him in, absent drag of lips against his face as her hands erratically map over his torso. Fingers taking one path, and then distracted by some shift in the texture of his skin, or the way his shirt drags against the back of her hands.
She trembles, shivers as his nails scrape against the edge of that handprint scarred into her arm. And it's hot, a fire of pleasure that surges through her, makes her press into his body out of sheer desire to be closer. Touch more, that craving for contact. Pleasure makes everything better.]
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He curses, and it distantly makes her grin. She can't even such words from her Cas, but the fact that they ended up like this at all was rather incongruous to the one that she knows. But at the moment, it's good enough to not care. It's good enough to just lean into the warmth and the pressure and the contact and only care about touching more, feeling more, getting closer. Fuck Zachariah and whatever the Hell he was trying to teach her, this was perfect. Cas, breathing him in, absent drag of lips against his face as her hands erratically map over his torso. Fingers taking one path, and then distracted by some shift in the texture of his skin, or the way his shirt drags against the back of her hands.
She trembles, shivers as his nails scrape against the edge of that handprint scarred into her arm. And it's hot, a fire of pleasure that surges through her, makes her press into his body out of sheer desire to be closer. Touch more, that craving for contact. Pleasure makes everything better.]
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He doesn't care. He can't care, not when this is all he has.
Sighing, he shifts closer, letting his hand curl over Deanna's waist as her lips brush against his face absently. His breath is coming in ragged, uneven bursts against her skin, and he nuzzles his face into her neck, nosing at the corner of her jaw as her fingers trail over his bare skin.
There's something about the way they move, rhythmless and erratic, something about the fact that her hands are up and under his shirt that's making the feeling better. There's a sensuality to it that he's never been able to resist, not once he'd been exposed to it, and it makes him shiver, press closer, lips sliding over the soft skin of her throat. It's the worst kind of idea- he's seen where that kind of thing leads, where it'd lead with the Deanna of this time... But he can't make himself stop because it feels too good to resist.]
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