1038. Caught in the Act
Originally posted by lone_defender at 678. Do I have to put up signs?!
Caught In The Act Meme
(Extended Edition)
We all masturbate, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's also something most prefer to keep private. But sometimes, people forget to knock while we're in the middle of things, and awkwardness ensues.
* Post with your character's name and fandom in the ( Read more... )
Caught In The Act Meme
(Extended Edition)
We all masturbate, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's also something most prefer to keep private. But sometimes, people forget to knock while we're in the middle of things, and awkwardness ensues.
* Post with your character's name and fandom in the ( Read more... )
And if he remembers correctly, last time had ended... pretty friggin' awesomely, so maybe this isn't the worst possible scenario. Actually... well, considering plan A had been doing it solo style on the couch, plan B was looking to be a ten times better alternative.
And it isn't as though he doesn't feel perfectly at home in Cas's room- they've spent just as much time in there as they have in Dean's, and he's not ashamed to admit Cas's bed is by far superior. Just... doing it alone is shameful enough considering he gets laid on a semi-regular basis (which admittedly has declined lately thanks to Sam and Gabriel's constant presence), but doing it alone in his boyfriend's empty bed seems a touch too pathetic for him.
Door number two, please.
He raises an eyebrow, accepts the pillow, pauses with it in his hands for a second, then reclines back on the couch and stuffs it behind his head. When all else fails, his go-to response is to pay it cocky.
Pun also intended.]
That is just the ugliest uniform in the universe, you're aware of that, right?
[It looks much better on the floor. He's hoping that goes unsaid, save for the tiny little quirk in his lips.]
'Member that time we got really high and listened to Massive Attack for like three hours?
[Which is just... the best music to have sex to. It really is, even if Dean's more of a classic rock or country kind of guy.]
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They do it to keep us humble, I guess. Lowly coffee peddlers in our hideous purple shirts...
[Seriously, fuck those shirts.
...Massive Attack. You've picked a winner, Dean, consider Cas's brain totally rerouted from "ugly shirt that I hate for the job I hate more" to "best three hours ever". Good choice. Well played, sir.]
Mmm, yeah, I think I do.
[A tiny smirk curves his lips as he lets his mind wander just a bit. Oh yes, he remembers... In vivid detail. Vivid enough, in fact, that he's beginning to feel that first stab of arousal, that dull throb low in his gut; it is the best music to have sex to, that's a definite part of the reason Cas likes listening to it so much, and adding being high to that mix? There's a definite shiver that runs down his spine at the thought. Don't judge, music and smoking get him hard, okay?
And alright, so Cas is stoned a good seventy-five percent of the time (maybe slightly less, since he's been with Dean and has, you know, things to do other than do drugs and have sex like he'd done when he'd been travelling, but Dean... Dean agreeing to smoke up with him is pretty rare, and definitely something to be committed to memory.
But as much as Cas truly enjoys those times, and would love to have another one of those times right now, he's not about to push the issue with Sam in the other room struggling to get straight.
There's another issue he's totally willing to push, though, and he bends to lean over Dean where he's reclining on the couch, rests a hand at the bare skin of his hip to steady himself as he ducks in to press a kiss to the side of his neck. He's taking the pillow test as an invitation.]
Gotta do that again soon...
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[He sounds both amused and distracted, more interested in the sight of Cas sans shirt moving forward into his personal space.]
Guess they don't know you at all, then. Humble? Not a chance.
[His hands go up automatically and settle themselves on either side of those (possibly illegal) hips as soon as Cas is within reach. Thumbs brush upward along his skin, and the ideas it brings do nothing to help the erection that had already been pretty far along by the time Cas showed up. Both Dean and his boner are more than happy to jump right back into the game.
Especially thinking about that day. Frankly, he's surprised the couch managed to survive. Everything had been slow and ten times more focused, dreamlike and fuzzy and perfect. A three hour blur of skin, weirdly erotic drumming, sweat, smoke, and he distantly remembers candles somewhere- thanks to Cas no doubt, because Dean doesn't own any fucking candles. Or maybe it was incense? His mind was focused on better things at the time.
He tilts his head to the side to make room for Cas's lips on his neck, lets out a soft breath just above Cas's ear, and slides his fingertips down and back so they skim beneath the hem of his jeans.]
That... yeah. I'm so on board with that.
[Just not right now. Not with Sam in the apartment. Or maybe they could go somewhere else. Get away for a while- some place where Gabriel won't bounce in, Sam isn't puking in the other room, Ruby's not pounding on their door, and Colt isn't... you know. In the room. Dean is just so against that- it's creepy. He wouldn't want to scar the poor guy.]
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Dean's hands resting at his hips and the roughness of his thumbs brushing against bare skin earn him a soft hum, and Cas allows his own hand to wander just a bit, sliding down to follow the crease between Dean's pelvis and thigh, skating around that erection. Close... But not close enough. He follows the line of Dean's neck as his head tips to the side, lips moving across his throat, and noses at his jaw lightly before latching his mouth onto the space just under his ear briefly.]
Yeah?
[And fuck if he doesn't want to just stay here and get on with it- look, he's even moved to pick his knee up and settle it between Dean's legs on their ridiculous couch... But really, that's... Probably not the best idea. He hadn't locked the door, and while that wouldn't have posed any problem at all, say, a month ago, with the ever-present threat of Gabriel waltzing in without knocking and the fact that there's only one wall between them and Sam... There are probably better places for this, and anything else they might get up to, to go down.
Fuck, but it's so comfortable out here, he's so tempted... Maybe the shock would be enough to keep Gabriel from barging in...? He's shifting more, leaning more into Dean's space...
And then Colt. Whimpers. Actually whimpers from somewhere out of sight and if that isn't the biggest fucking boner killer, Cas doesn't know what is. He's sure Dean's heard it too. Shit, well, looks like they should probably... Yeah. Tipping his face forward, he groans, pulls back slightly.]
Wanna... Relocate? Somewhere?
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Shit. His hips shift a little, press upward into Cas's hands, which are going everywhere but where he'd really like them to go. Granted, they still feel amazing, but when they're just a few inches shy, there's a slim difference between feels really good and tease.
And that space below his ear- fuck, see, this is the benefit of actually, you know, staying with someone. They figure out all the little places on your body that just... He huffs out a hitched breath, tightens his hands on Cas's waist, automatically shifts his knees apart to make room for that knee, and this is so awesome, yes, good, just-
Whimper.]
Oh god damn it.
[His head flops back on the couch, somewhere, he throbs in protest, and Cas pulls back with a groan. That is just. So unfuckingfair. The ideas of the various positions in which they could do this on the couch had been pretty damn appealing, too. There had been laps involved, and hips, and grinding, and-
...Well, then again, Cas does own a bed.]
Yes.
[He announced, pointing seriously, and shoved off the couch to stride across the room without waiting up. Bed. Bed bed bed naked on the bed, on his back on the bed, on his front on the bed, above Cas on the bed, below Cas on the bed, and god bless both America and beds.]
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Yep, oh god damn it just about covers it. Cas, too, had been making a mental list of the ways this could go down on the couch, and he'd been pretty much good to go with any of the numerous possibilities. Oversized, super comfortable couches really do lend themselves to quite a few very appealing positions...
But then again, so do beds. Beds can be pretty nice too. In fact, yeah, the bed is a perfectly acceptable alternative to the couch, especially given the fact that there are no whimpering dogs or interruption threats... And, you know, the whole relative privacy thing.
Dean seems to agree, because he's up even faster than Cas and moving across the room before Cas even has time to move out of the way. He supposes he should be flattered; that kind of speed can only mean one thing and if he's honest, Cas is more than happy to hurry right along himself. Which he does by following Dean into his bedroom, tugging the door shut (and locking it this time, no surprises, please...), and reaching out to haul Dean in by his t-shirt to crush their mouths together. One of his hands snakes around his waist up under said t-shirt to slide over his back, palm flattening to press him closer. They'll make it to the bed eventually, he supposes.]
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bed would probably be good, you know, eventually. At some point. Right now, what's more important is touching.
Holy shit, it's been, like, way too long. Too many people, too much of a chance of getting caught, too much Gabriel. Fucking assbutt.
Okay, granted, it hasn't been that long, but considering he's used to it being just the two of them, pretty much able to fool around whenever the mood strikes... And considering the type of people they are, that mood struck fairly often...
Fucking stupid Gabriel. Freaking Sam throwing up in the back room. Damn Sam's bitch girlfriend pounding on their door at weird hours.
Which is exactly not what he's thinking about right now. mostly, his brain is a wonderful tangle of Cas, yes, awesome, Cas, hard, fuck, yes, love, awesome, great- And maybe a distant part of him doing some strategizing on how best to get their pants off without taking out furniture in the process.
His hands fall back around Cas's hips and haul his lower half closer, tugs away from Cas's lips to set to work nibbling on his jawline, messily kissing his way to where it meets his neck. Yep, way too many distractions, way too long.]
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Way, way too long.
Dean's mouth pulls away and there's a soft whine of protest, at least until those lips are moving over his jaw, nips of teeth and wet heat sliding to where it connects with the side of his neck. He runs his hands down Dean's back and then up his sides, fingertips tracing the muscle and skirting over his ribs, touching anywhere he can reach, really, because he can't shake the feeling that something's going to get in the way again...
It's with that thought in mind that he shifts, fists his hands in the hem of Dean's t-shirt and tugs up. As much as he doesn't really want to be separated for the time it's gonna take to pull the offending article over Dean's head... Yeah. Clothes need no longer apply. You're next, pants.]
Mm- Off.
[Just in case there was any gray area involved...]
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Cas's groaning isn't doing much to help with that.
Dean figured, if anything, their sex life would maybe be a little less amazing since that drunken love confession a few days ago. Something about cracking down and getting serious seemed the opposite of sexy to him- being in that position couldn't possibly be hotter than no-strings-attached light, fun fooling around. It's proven to be the complete opposite- he feels less stupid, taking the time to be vulnerable and... well... loving. Granted they'd always been passionate, but now, knowing that it's mutual, knowing what they are... it seems like more. It feels like... more. It feels like this, all of this, is his. It makes his chest swell, his heart beat harder, it makes everything better, and sex isn't talking. He's bad at talking- he's good at sex. Meaning he can show with actions more than words what he really feels during moments like these, and moments after.
He'd say he looks forward to the time afterward more than the act itself, but... well, he fucking loves sex, so that wouldn't entirely be true. It's still awesome, though.
If he's got anything to say about it, not a damn thing's getting in the way this time.
He groans a little in protest as Cas tugs his shirt up, just because it means he has to let go and loosen his lips from Cas's neck. He complies anyway, tugs back and raises his arms. Between the two of them, they managed to get that bastard off and it's discarded onto the floor. Team effort stripping. Division of labor. He's on board.
To make up for lost time, he loops an arm around Cas's waist and hauls them away from the door and toward the bed. Pants are easier to remove when you're not standing. His mouth wants back in the game, too, so he ducks down midway through to latch his lips onto that collarbone that's just begging for attention. It makes him lose balance a little, but that's alright, because he's pretty sure that thing that's obstructing them from moving is a bed, so he reaches down with his free arm to press a hand into a mattress and guide them onto the sheets.]
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Cas hates sitcoms.
Something he doesn't hate, though, is that this doesn't seem to be going the way of the sitcom sexual escapade. Things are going pretty damn smoothly, actually; that shirt's gone, owning to some pretty awesome team stripping (is that an event? Like a three-legged race, only with stripping? It really should be.) and Dean's mouth has replaced itself over his skin (in a different place, yes, but really... any place will do, at this point, he just wants to feel), and hey, they're moving toward the bed now! Definitely going smoothly.
His back hits the sheets and he lets out of huff of breath against Dean's ear, shifts a bit so he has the space to tug Dean the rest of the way on top of him. Fuck, but this is nice. Not just the weight of Dean's body pressing against his own, or the fact that Dean's thigh is in a pretty amazing place right now, but the fact that they're... You know, that whole love thing. Drunk and on the floor or not, that totally counts, and if anything it's only serving to make things better, more enjoyable. Cas is actually looking forward to being able to think and feel the things he's been thinking and feeling for quite some time now without the added feeling of jackass for feeling them at all. It's mutual, officially mutual and while Cas isn't exactly fond of putting labels on things... That's a label he can live with.
Winding his arms around Dean's back, he pulls him closer so that their chests are pressed together and he can feel the beating of his heart; call him what you want, it's things like that that really get him going.
...That and that thigh. Still with that thigh... Cas's legs spread a bit wider and he rocks his hips a bit to steal some friction while he can.]
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The other ten percent is sitcoms. Dude- have you seen Friends? Seinfeld? That's classic television, right there.
He's more than happy to put Team Stripping on the Olympic roster, though, because now that it's gone, he can feel the slide of Cas's bare chest beneath him, can chase lines with his tongue, and that's pretty damn fantastic. He's certainly not complaining when Cas pulls him down, too, especially when he can feel the line of Cas's cock pressed hot and solid against his thigh.]
Oh, fuck...
[Yeah, that's... it's amazing how that never fails to send a shot of electricity down his spine and straight into his pelvis, and he nudges Cas's legs further apart with aforementioned thigh, presses down gently and charitably helps out in that friction department. He's either an amazingly nice guy, or he just friggin' loves the feeling.
Spoilers- it's door number two, Bob.
Since they're chest-to-chest anyway, he directs Cas's chin up with the tip of his nose and dips in to nuzzle along the underside of his jaw, trace his lips along the dips and lines of muscle, kiss his way across the other man's neck. Jesus Christ if the feeling of Cas rocking himself against his thigh isn't unreasonably hot- damn, shit, he's already twitching and he hasn't even gotten their pants off yet. He grips Cas by the hips, fingers digging in a little too tight, and stiffens to keep his own hips from rolling down. Get it together, Dean.
A low rumble of frustration and impatience works it's way out of his chest when the moment passes, and he shifts upward to give himself space to work on Cas's button and zipper. His hurry is evident, it makes his fingers clumsy and fumbling, and dear god why don't they all just switch to Velcro or something, fuck, shit-]
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Colt has yet to express an opinion on the matter, just FYI. Cas is sure he'd go so far as to ask that one time he'd smoked way, way too much in one night... Though where the Jewish had come from, he has no idea...
The dog's religious beliefs aside though, Cas figures he and Dean are more or less on the same page, especially when it comes to this, and really, that's what's important right now. Cas's head tips back and his lips part in a moan when Dean oh so charitably applies light pressure to his achingly hard cock. Fuck, he could just... He could just get off on that alone, the heat of Dean's skin through the denim, the extra sensation of the fabric sending little jolts of pleasure across his nerves... It wouldn't even take much. His hips give another involuntary twitch at the thought, regardless of the fact that that's not really what he's after today. He stills, though his hands may still be pressing into Dean's lower back to keep him where he is.
And damn it, but Dean's lips moving over his throat are really making it hard for him to stick with that decision; it's only because of the fingers digging into his hips that he manages to keep from jerking into Dean again. He can feel the tension, the way Dean's resisting the urge to do the same thing and fuck if that doesn't make him want it more.
But Dean once again spares him the trouble of having to stop himself, though, because before Cas gets a chance to do much of anything Dean's shifted to pluck at his fly; Cas takes this opportunity to let one of his hands slide up the back of Dean's neck and into his hair, tip his head to the side to latch onto his neck and suck a light bruise there. Nothing too intense, nothing that won't be gone after a few hours... As much as he likes leaving marks- and make no mistake, he does- he's not a total asshole, and those are never fun to explain. Well, maybe sometimes. Still.
His free hand slips from Dean's back and trails up his chest, fingertips ghosting over a nipple before dragging back down to his fly. Can he do this single-handed even with the rush of adrenaline and the fact that he wants nothing more than for them to magically disappear? Only time will tell, but it's not looking good. Well, it is looking good, just... Not for the pants situation.]
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