POOR CASS. XDDwinchester_lostSeptember 29 2011, 04:25:30 UTC
[The fact that Dean gets jealous really doesn't help things, of course. Oh, not that he'll ever admit to it, not even really to himself. After all, he's the one that showed Cass that the best balms for the soul were sex and intoxicants. But after what sort of week it's been and Cass babbling some new-age-sounding bullshit he's almost certain is going to end up as the sermon before the orgy sometime in the next few days, he can't help himself. He doesn't even feel bad when the former-angel curses in shock.
Not yet, not with anger and agitation and sheer frustration still thrumming hothothot through his veins. No, the guilt and the apologies will come later, when it's settled, when it clears and he realizes he's hurt the only person he has left. The only person he cares for, even if he keeps trying to remind himself that he'd decided it was safer not to.
One hand grabs for Cass' shirt and the other is swinging again, insensitive to the former-angel's protests. He's been so tense that now that it's snapped, he's not exactly in a mood for explanations, for now.]
Lmao I can just see him being like BLAH BLAH GROUP MI- WHAT THE FFFFFFUUUUCCCKKK D8<heavenonhighSeptember 29 2011, 04:43:37 UTC
[Dean doesn't show any sign of stopping, and Cas is not in the mood to be a punching bag tonight. He brings his hand up to block the next fist that comes flying at his face and shoves down on the elbow of Dean's other arm, the one with its hand fisted in his shirt. Bringing his palm up he catches Dean in the chin and knocks him off balance. If he'd been a little less out of it up he might have been able to actually throw him down, but that isn't happening right now. And truthfully, as pissed as he is about the sucker punch his goal is only to stop Dean from coming at him like a lunatic... For the moment, anyway.
He's tolerant of the rudeness and the snark, and the occasional uncalled for remark about his leisure activities, because he knows that Dean has worries he himself can sometimes afford to avoid, but even he draws the line somewhere. If it comes down to it, he's willing to give as good as he gets.]
LOL YES. Dean is jealous and upset and has no Whiskey. Cass is screwed. :Pwinchester_lostSeptember 29 2011, 05:29:59 UTC
[If anything, the fact that Cass is starting to defend himself, just encourages him. Dean has long found barbrawls as an acceptable way to burn off tension. This doesn't work as well when there aren't really any bars left, but the intention remains the same. Conflict. Because he hurts, hurts so much, and he can't, he doesn't know how to say it. And so he doesn't.
Instead, he settles for shifting his feet to try and catch his balance, and then launching another fist at the former-angel. His hazel-green eyes glitter with hurt and stress and a need for something, and so he settles with this. Although, Dean is so tense he's not in the best of shape either.]
He definitely is XDheavenonhighSeptember 29 2011, 16:31:27 UTC
[He's not quite fast enough to knock away the next fist that hurtles at him; it hits him square in the chest and takes his breath away. Okay, no more fucking around, then. Gasping and clutching at his chest, he draws back and throws a punch. His outer knuckles skid against the side of Dean's face; not quite a solid hit but he's still a little disoriented from that first blow to his jaw.
He hadn't intended on getting into a brawl with Dean tonight, but now that there's adrenalin pumping through his system and a throbbing pain in his head he's finding himself a lot more open to the idea. All the anger at their situation and his and Dean's roles in it that he's tried to bury with the drinking and the drugs and the sex is bubbling up inside of him-- an impotent rage at his powerlessness. He throws another punch, aim a little bit better for the rush.]
[It is disturbingly satisfying when his fist catches Cass in the chest, the impact only slightly muted by the clothes the other man wears. There's an undeniable sick sort of glee at the violence, the raw aggression that surges through him at the contact. This is a high too. And one he's rather intent on riding out until the pain is muted and quiet, until he can deal. There's a certain measure of satisfaction on hurting Cass, because the former-angel and his fucking orgies cuts deep, even if he's not well-adjusted enough to fucking sayit, instead of taking it out in violence and sex with other people he doesn't really care about.
Jealousy is a green-eyed bitch.
He grunts as that first fist connects, knuckles scraping against his stubbled jaw. The second punch catches him in the cheek, snapping his head to the side and he growls in frustration as he staggers. He lunges for Cass, trying to make contact again because adrenaline is singing in his veins, making this feel hot and alluring, even though it's so very wrong.]
[Again he fails to get out of the way in time and Dean's body slams into his, knocking him backwards into the wall. There's a sick crack as his head bangs into the hard surface, and he's seeing stars of the totally unpleasant variety. He swings his fist up, slamming it into Dean's stomach and reveling in the grunt of pain that the blow pushes through the other man's lips.
It's satisfying in a way he doesn't like to think about, hurting Dean this way. He doesn't like to admit it, but a part of him does blame Dean for this, for all of this. For his doubt, his fall, his suffering... If it wasn't for Dean, Cas's entire millennia-long existence might not have had to end this way, with him rolling in the mud waiting to die as a mortal. This part of him is pointedly ignoring the fact that it was his choice to remain on earth when the other angels left, his choice (though he'd been helped along) to let Sam out of the panic room all those years ago, ultimately his choice to rebel at all. This part of him isn't exactly rational.
He truly hates being this way, stuck in this body, weak in a way he can't even describe. He'd never, ever say it aloud, he cares for Dean far too much to let that happen, but with this fighting, this twisted, brutal, human way of handling these feelings, he's finding it so easy to just let those emotions out, pouring his frustrations out in punches because even after everything he still cares too much.]
I somehow forsee this turning into equally violent making out at some point, lol. /pervswinchester_lostSeptember 29 2011, 23:12:37 UTC
[Dean groans in pain as Cass' fist hits his stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and making him jerk forward. He growls in frustration, and swings at Cass, trying to take advantage of the fact that he has him up against the wall. This isn't going particularly well for either of them, admittedly. Blood is dribbling from Dean's split lip down his chin, his lips are wet with the thick fluid that tinges the air with that scent of copper.
It's easier like this than it would be to explain in words, to let out all the tension that's been eating him alive. It's easier to just ride the waves of adrenaline, venting all that anger and frustration because he cares, because Dean forgot and he ended up in love with him all over again and that hurts. He aims another fist at the former-angel's chest, and the fact that Cass gives as good as he gets just makes this more sickly seductive.]
OH GOOD SO I'M NOT ALONE 8'DheavenonhighSeptember 30 2011, 00:47:06 UTC
[Dean's fist slams into his chest again and he's coughing, wheezing, hand gripping into the lapel of the hunter's jacket. He can't catch his breath; it's coming in small gasps and pants and he can't see straight for the pain. The blood in the air and running down his face is making him feel dizzy, it's filling all of his senses; he can smell it, taste it on his tongue, hear it where it's pounding in his ears. Maybe it's better this way, better than trying to talk things out with words. Words had never been their strong suit, it wasn't the way they'd operated, why should now be any different?
He doesn't want to feel anymore, he wishes he could be his former self and just not care about anything but what he was told to care about. He punches these wishes into Dean, aim haphazard, sluggish jerks of his fists as he tries to take in a breath. He manages to land a weak uppercut, knuckles scraping across a stubbled chin, but he can't get Dean to let go of him. Probably for the best, if he's honest, because he's so dizzy he doubts he could remain standing without the hunter to lean on. It's so fitting, Dean simultaneously breaking him and being the one to keep him upright, so reflective of their relationship in general. In a sick way he feels closer to Dean right now than he has in a while.
He coughs again as another wave of dizziness overtakes him; he'd known he was no match for Dean from the beginning but he hopes he can at least last a little while longer and save some small amount of dignity. His fingers tighten around Dean's jacket and he draws his fist back again.]
WE COULD START A CLUB xDwinchester_lostSeptember 30 2011, 01:56:42 UTC
[Dean's grunting as Cass' fists land haphazardly against his torso, punching that desire not to feel into Dean, and the hunter echoes the sentiment. Fists hit hard enough to leave bruises, but not hard enough to make him stop this. Dean refuses to let go of him, because no matter how much it hurts, he's always holding on to Cass. Even if now is more literal than usual. His gaze falters, tracing the trail of blood down the former angel's face instead of hitting him again, and suddenly it's like being pulled apart, wanting too much.
The punch that follows is stuttering, awkward and almost half-hearted because before he was riding it, and now it's starting to feel like he's falling. He grunts as a fist catches him under the jaw, scraping against unshaven stubble and smearing blood that he's wearing like lipstick.
Dean stumbles on his feet briefly, dizzy and reeling, and he means to hit him again, but instead as he shifts forward their mouths collide. Dean shivers, not pulling back, though he should for so many different reasons. But instead he's kissing him like they're fighting; scrapes of teeth and the metal taste of split-lips.]
THE BEST OF CLUBS.heavenonhighSeptember 30 2011, 02:59:33 UTC
[For a second he thinks he's done for, he can see Dean's punch coming and knows he can't bring his arms up to block it in time, but when the blow comes it's not what he was expecting, just a weak push of knuckles to his skin. It's still enough to daze him, because he'd been anticipating so much worse, and when he comes to his senses Dean's mouth is pressing into his and it's so wrong but he wants it anyway. Teeth scrape against his lip where it's split and bleeding and he knows he should stop, shove Dean off of him and fight back... But he can't bring himself to do it.
The hand that's still clutched in the hunter's jacket hauls him in, pulls him so that there's barely any space between Dean's body and his where it's crushed against the wall, and his other hand slides up to cup Dean's jaw, fingers digging into the bloodied skin. He moans into the bruising kiss, although he isn't sure if it's from pleasure or pain; he isn't even sure if there's a difference when it comes to Dean. Tongue darting out to taste the blood there, he nips sharply at the hot and swollen slash in Dean's lip.]
NOTHING COULD BE MORE AWESOME. <3winchester_lostSeptember 30 2011, 03:09:55 UTC
[Dean moans into the kiss, a hitch of breath, something almost like a twisted whine as it feels so much. His hand on Cass is pulling him closer, harder against him as his teeth nip and scrape at battered lips split on his own knuckles. His other hand is sliding into the shorts strands of Cass' hair. He knows this is screwed up, but he can't help himself, because under all that anger, all that hurt and aggression is this.
It hurts because he cares, because he wants, craves this. He can smell the weed overlaying with the blood and the scent of Cass' skin because they're so damn close, but it's still almost not close enough and all that he can do is pull him closer. Jealous and hurt and between the violence and touching, it's almost soothing, almost a balm against injury he doesn't want to admit to.]
Most definitely *o*heavenonhighSeptember 30 2011, 04:02:22 UTC
[Fingers are winding their way into his hair and Cas is whimpering now, though the sound is muted against Dean's lips, cracked and still bleeding against his own as they slide together. His hands move against his will, down Dean's body and inside his jacket. He can feel the skin burning through the fabric of his shirt, and all he wants is that heat under his hands, wants to scratch and bite and tear at it. He wants to feel it under his fingers, and he hates himself for wanting it. Hates Dean a little bit too, for letting him have it. He tugs the shirt out from where it had been tucked into Dean's pants and gives in, nails scraping, digging into the skin of the hunter's sides and back and he hopes he's leaving bruises.
Sighing into Dean's mouth, he feels his knees start to buckle and it just makes him grip tighter, dig blunt nails in just a little bit more, trying to keep as little space between them as possible while he tries to hold himself up.]
This is amaaaaazing. :Dwinchester_lostSeptember 30 2011, 04:41:08 UTC
[He can taste the blood between their battered lips and it makes him shiver, makes him pull Cass harder against him, because he's craved this. And he's not sure if the former-angel will understand, will forgive him for this, but he can't let go (Cass isn't hitting him, isn't pushing him away, but their kisses are still like fighting, but it's enough to make him wonder, but not enough to let him care). He's arching into Cass' hands as they slide down his body, through the fabric of his shirt that feels too thin. Too thin when he can feel Cass' hands like fire, like the scorching trail of a brand. He's gasping, breathing Cass' air when nails dig into skin and he forgets to breathe through his nose.
Whimpers into the former-angel's lips, his fingers soft in ebony black hair, but his lips and teeth are still nipping and biting and scraping, as if in reply to how those fingers are marking his skin. (He can't convince himself they're not branding him, that it's not like the handprint on his shoulder, that Cass isn't covering him in burns of grasping fingerprints.)]
It really, really is. Enjoying it more than I have any right to hahahahaheavenonhighSeptember 30 2011, 13:19:51 UTC
[His fingers are branding Dean's skin, they're on fire, searing bloody, bruising marks there because they can. The rational part of Cas's brain is screaming for him to stop this, but the rational part has had no part of this night at all and Cas isn't about to let it take over now, not when the rest of him is thrumming with closer closer closer, and his body's arching into Dean's. He breaks the kiss only to drag his mouth across Dean's face, stubble burning and scratching his abused lips. His teeth close around the flesh of Dean's neck and he's sucking a deep bruise into the skin. The handprint isn't enough, the burning trails of his fingers aren't enough; Cas's entire body, the fact that it's his body at all are all signs of Dean's ownership, and Cas won't stop until Dean is as blatantly marked as he is.
Some of the strength returns to his legs as another wave of dizziness passes, and he shifts slightly, pressing a thigh up between Dean's. Using his fingers to grip and pull, he drags Dean forward a little harder than he usually would, bodies crushed together so close it's almost painful.]
Yeaaah, I'm just as guilty, cause, yeah, wow. This is amazing, hehehe.winchester_lostSeptember 30 2011, 17:37:16 UTC
[Dean's shivering under Cass' hands as they burn across his skin like wildfire, like a brand. Rationally, he knows it's twisted, wrong in so many ways that he's pressing in, leaning into this, gasping into the other man's mouth. But Dean can't bring himself to care. With how far gone the world is, how far gone they are, he just can't bring himself to give a damn about should and shouldn'ts.
He's leaning in, pressing into the former angel's body, needing to be closer. His other hand, that mean right hook, is instead sliding to the small of Cass' back, using it to draw their bodies closer despite all forms of good sense. Not that Dean has ever been good with that in the first place. Cass' lip draw away from Dean's, and there's still that faint sting of blood in the air. Then those teeth are digging into his neck, mouth sucking a bruise, and he doesn't protest, because he can't manage it. It's so good, so hot, so searing. His head tips back, and sound shudders and shatters on his lips.
The noise Dean makes is incoherent, but at some point it might have been Cass' name. The Hunter groans as he can feel Cass' thigh shoved up between his legs, and Dean's hard through his denims. They're so close, and it hurts, but it's so good, and fuck if he doesn't want more.]
keysmash worthy, oh man. lkajsgldkjahkheavenonhighSeptember 30 2011, 19:49:20 UTC
[Cas's lips part in a groan where they're pressed against Dean's throat; it's painful, the way they're pressed together chest to chest, Dean's solid weight leaning into the bruises his fists have undoubtedly left behind, but there's something undeniably, sickly pleasurable about all of this too, and though it turns Cas's stomach that he feels this way he can't deny that he wants more. His hands finally move away from Dean's back; he catches a glimpse of his fingers in the light and there's blood on them, under his fingernails and smeared across his palms. He thinks he should feel bad about it but right now he really doesn't.
His mouth is still working at Dean's neck, the newly exposed flesh only encouraging him to bite and suck harder, to draw more gasps and moans from Dean's lips. One hand moves to cradle the other man's head, the other snaking down into the back of his pants, pulling their bodies flush. Cas is hard, so painfully hard and he sobs out a breath as Dean's body brushes against him, rocking his hips forward because even though it hurts so much he can't get enough. Between the drugs in his system and the pain and the smell of blood in the air everything seems surreal, and it only adds to his arousal.]
Not yet, not with anger and agitation and sheer frustration still thrumming hothothot through his veins. No, the guilt and the apologies will come later, when it's settled, when it clears and he realizes he's hurt the only person he has left. The only person he cares for, even if he keeps trying to remind himself that he'd decided it was safer not to.
One hand grabs for Cass' shirt and the other is swinging again, insensitive to the former-angel's protests. He's been so tense that now that it's snapped, he's not exactly in a mood for explanations, for now.]
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He's tolerant of the rudeness and the snark, and the occasional uncalled for remark about his leisure activities, because he knows that Dean has worries he himself can sometimes afford to avoid, but even he draws the line somewhere. If it comes down to it, he's willing to give as good as he gets.]
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Instead, he settles for shifting his feet to try and catch his balance, and then launching another fist at the former-angel. His hazel-green eyes glitter with hurt and stress and a need for something, and so he settles with this. Although, Dean is so tense he's not in the best of shape either.]
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He hadn't intended on getting into a brawl with Dean tonight, but now that there's adrenalin pumping through his system and a throbbing pain in his head he's finding himself a lot more open to the idea. All the anger at their situation and his and Dean's roles in it that he's tried to bury with the drinking and the drugs and the sex is bubbling up inside of him-- an impotent rage at his powerlessness. He throws another punch, aim a little bit better for the rush.]
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Jealousy is a green-eyed bitch.
He grunts as that first fist connects, knuckles scraping against his stubbled jaw. The second punch catches him in the cheek, snapping his head to the side and he growls in frustration as he staggers. He lunges for Cass, trying to make contact again because adrenaline is singing in his veins, making this feel hot and alluring, even though it's so very wrong.]
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It's satisfying in a way he doesn't like to think about, hurting Dean this way. He doesn't like to admit it, but a part of him does blame Dean for this, for all of this. For his doubt, his fall, his suffering... If it wasn't for Dean, Cas's entire millennia-long existence might not have had to end this way, with him rolling in the mud waiting to die as a mortal. This part of him is pointedly ignoring the fact that it was his choice to remain on earth when the other angels left, his choice (though he'd been helped along) to let Sam out of the panic room all those years ago, ultimately his choice to rebel at all. This part of him isn't exactly rational.
He truly hates being this way, stuck in this body, weak in a way he can't even describe. He'd never, ever say it aloud, he cares for Dean far too much to let that happen, but with this fighting, this twisted, brutal, human way of handling these feelings, he's finding it so easy to just let those emotions out, pouring his frustrations out in punches because even after everything he still cares too much.]
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It's easier like this than it would be to explain in words, to let out all the tension that's been eating him alive. It's easier to just ride the waves of adrenaline, venting all that anger and frustration because he cares, because Dean forgot and he ended up in love with him all over again and that hurts. He aims another fist at the former-angel's chest, and the fact that Cass gives as good as he gets just makes this more sickly seductive.]
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He doesn't want to feel anymore, he wishes he could be his former self and just not care about anything but what he was told to care about. He punches these wishes into Dean, aim haphazard, sluggish jerks of his fists as he tries to take in a breath. He manages to land a weak uppercut, knuckles scraping across a stubbled chin, but he can't get Dean to let go of him. Probably for the best, if he's honest, because he's so dizzy he doubts he could remain standing without the hunter to lean on. It's so fitting, Dean simultaneously breaking him and being the one to keep him upright, so reflective of their relationship in general. In a sick way he feels closer to Dean right now than he has in a while.
He coughs again as another wave of dizziness overtakes him; he'd known he was no match for Dean from the beginning but he hopes he can at least last a little while longer and save some small amount of dignity. His fingers tighten around Dean's jacket and he draws his fist back again.]
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The punch that follows is stuttering, awkward and almost half-hearted because before he was riding it, and now it's starting to feel like he's falling. He grunts as a fist catches him under the jaw, scraping against unshaven stubble and smearing blood that he's wearing like lipstick.
Dean stumbles on his feet briefly, dizzy and reeling, and he means to hit him again, but instead as he shifts forward their mouths collide. Dean shivers, not pulling back, though he should for so many different reasons. But instead he's kissing him like they're fighting; scrapes of teeth and the metal taste of split-lips.]
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The hand that's still clutched in the hunter's jacket hauls him in, pulls him so that there's barely any space between Dean's body and his where it's crushed against the wall, and his other hand slides up to cup Dean's jaw, fingers digging into the bloodied skin. He moans into the bruising kiss, although he isn't sure if it's from pleasure or pain; he isn't even sure if there's a difference when it comes to Dean. Tongue darting out to taste the blood there, he nips sharply at the hot and swollen slash in Dean's lip.]
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It hurts because he cares, because he wants, craves this. He can smell the weed overlaying with the blood and the scent of Cass' skin because they're so damn close, but it's still almost not close enough and all that he can do is pull him closer. Jealous and hurt and between the violence and touching, it's almost soothing, almost a balm against injury he doesn't want to admit to.]
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Sighing into Dean's mouth, he feels his knees start to buckle and it just makes him grip tighter, dig blunt nails in just a little bit more, trying to keep as little space between them as possible while he tries to hold himself up.]
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Whimpers into the former-angel's lips, his fingers soft in ebony black hair, but his lips and teeth are still nipping and biting and scraping, as if in reply to how those fingers are marking his skin. (He can't convince himself they're not branding him, that it's not like the handprint on his shoulder, that Cass isn't covering him in burns of grasping fingerprints.)]
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Some of the strength returns to his legs as another wave of dizziness passes, and he shifts slightly, pressing a thigh up between Dean's. Using his fingers to grip and pull, he drags Dean forward a little harder than he usually would, bodies crushed together so close it's almost painful.]
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He's leaning in, pressing into the former angel's body, needing to be closer. His other hand, that mean right hook, is instead sliding to the small of Cass' back, using it to draw their bodies closer despite all forms of good sense. Not that Dean has ever been good with that in the first place. Cass' lip draw away from Dean's, and there's still that faint sting of blood in the air. Then those teeth are digging into his neck, mouth sucking a bruise, and he doesn't protest, because he can't manage it. It's so good, so hot, so searing. His head tips back, and sound shudders and shatters on his lips.
The noise Dean makes is incoherent, but at some point it might have been Cass' name. The Hunter groans as he can feel Cass' thigh shoved up between his legs, and Dean's hard through his denims. They're so close, and it hurts, but it's so good, and fuck if he doesn't want more.]
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His mouth is still working at Dean's neck, the newly exposed flesh only encouraging him to bite and suck harder, to draw more gasps and moans from Dean's lips. One hand moves to cradle the other man's head, the other snaking down into the back of his pants, pulling their bodies flush. Cas is hard, so painfully hard and he sobs out a breath as Dean's body brushes against him, rocking his hips forward because even though it hurts so much he can't get enough. Between the drugs in his system and the pain and the smell of blood in the air everything seems surreal, and it only adds to his arousal.]
Oh--
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