[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.]
Busy day today, ick. THIS MAKES IT SO MUCH BETTERwinchester_lostOctober 1 2011, 04:46:39 UTC
[It hurts the way they press together, aggravating the bruises and scrapes and cuts they've inflicted on one another's bodies. But that hurt feels good, and in a twisted way Dean would never have admitted to, he wants more. He wants more of Cass sucking bruises into his throat, hands pulling their bodies flush. With the way he gasps and moans, he knows there aren't any secrets about the fact that he's enjoying this. However, with Cass' erection stabbing into Dean's hip, it's suddenly so tangibly clear he's not the only one.
Dean's shifting, enough so that their erections rub together through too much denim. All reservations are falling away however, and he's struggling with fabric, trying to get it off of Cass. They might have just been fighting, and their hands might both be red with the same shade of blood smeared on their mouths, but that just makes it perverse. It doesn't make him not want to fall headlong into whatever this is.
Because he needs needs needs this in ways that are only suddenly dawning.]
heee definitely fun to come home to <3heavenonhighOctober 1 2011, 06:07:38 UTC
[Cas feels Dean's attempts to rid him of his clothes; this he doesn't fight at all. Pushing away from the wall, he picks his arms up and tugs his shirt off, flinging it aside as his hands shove at Dean's jacket, pushing it off of his shoulders. He presses his face into the crook of Dean's neck again and nips at the skin, dropping kisses onto the bruises that are already there. They're not meant to soothe, not exactly, but they aren't meant to hurt, either. ...Well, maybe just a little.
Hands are working their way under Dean's shirt again, fingertips retracing where they'd clawed earlier, skimming over the torn and raised flesh. He crooks them into the hem of the shirt, tugging it up and over the hunter's head before leaning in and sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, teeth grazing the split. It's not bleeding anymore but it's still heated and swollen and Cas can't help himself, has to press into it harder. His own lip throbs in protest but the pain is just encouraging him at this point.
His hands stray farther south and he cups Dean through his pants, a quick squeeze that's just this side of too hard, before going to work at the buttons of his fly. He needs this, needs to feel Dean hard and searing under his hands, against his own skin, and it's taking too damn long. He growls low in his throat, a warning, though he isn't sure who the warning is for, exactly.]
I'll reply to the others after my CPR class <3winchester_lostOctober 1 2011, 08:03:46 UTC
[It's easier to separate cloth from Cass' skin when he pushes away from the wall and helps Dean with the process. Then Dean's reciprocating, shrugging out of his jacket, not caring where things land as long as there's bared skin. He murmurs at the way lips nip at his skin, the way that kisses press to bruises, and it hurts a little, just enough to drag a low murmur from his throat.
He shudders, leaning into Cass' hands as the former angel traces over torn skin, raised red paths of fingernails that are not-quite welts. Then Cass is lifting the shirt off over his head, and Dean is all cooperation, even if it means pulling his hands away from the other man's body. Then they're kissing, or at least something like it, and Dean is nipping and sucking at Cass' lip as surely as the man is at his. He whines as teeth scrape harder against the cut in his lip and the attention has him pressing back heatedly into that mauling kiss.
His hands start at Cass' shoulders, trailing short nails down his torso, along his sides. He gasps, moaning and jerking his hips as a hand cups against that aching erection, and when Cass has his pants mostly undone, Dean's growling against his mouth, grabbing them and shoving them down his muscular legs. He's already starting to work on getting Cass out of his pants while he finishes kicking off his jeans.
This is desperate and aching and hot and he craves this in ways that leave him reeling. He wants Cass' hands on his bruises, he wants this heat, he wants the way their kisses are biting and how Cass' body presses against him.
Ooooh CPR :D pretty bossheavenonhighOctober 1 2011, 17:16:37 UTC
[Cas shivers at Dean's nails raking down his sides; they're blunt and jagged and they catch on his skin. Finally stepping out of his own pants, he kicks them aside and hauls Dean's body closer, hands gripping more bruises into the hunter's hips. Dean's body is taut, all muscle where it's crushing against him and it's scorching, molten fire where they touch. Sweat is beading at his lower back and Cas's fingers slip as they try to keep hold of him, keep them pressed together.
His hips rock forward into Dean's and he makes a strangled sound as his hardness slides against the other man's, slipping easily with the sweat. There's barely any air between them and it's suffocating as Cas brings his mouth to Dean's again, lips parted as they move against Dean's skin.
It's a bone-deep need to be closer that has him gripping the hunter's shoulders hard, fitting his hand over his first mark. If he could he'd burn it there again, burn handprints all over his body, but that kind of power is lost to him and so he just clings to it, fingertips pressing into the raised skin. He's moaning into Dean's mouth out of frustration and need, and he just wants this so much.]
Lol. I pretend it is! It's an EMT class. :)winchester_lostOctober 1 2011, 18:52:33 UTC
[Dean groans as Cass drags him closer, fingers pressing deliciously into bruises on his hips. It's twisted and he knows he shouldn't like it, he's not usually like this, but it's Cass, and somehow that makes it better, makes it good, makes that pain sing into hot-hot pleasure. They're both naked, and the Hunter almost sobs in pleasure as their flesh fits together so fucking perfectly.
Hips jerking and their erections slide together, slicked with sweat, and it's electric fire that's liquid in his vein. The sensation is consuming, and it makes him groan. It's so good, but nowhere near enough. He wants more. He always wants more when it comes to Cass. It's never enough.
Then a hand is gripping his shoulder, fitting to that mark, and it tingles with heat. Cass might have lost his power, but there's still something about that burned handprint. It's erotic and he jerks and clings to Castiel, moaning and trying to pull him closer. He shifts, his other shoulder hitting against the wall, trying with almost incoherent desire to feed that seething desire.
His hands scraping nails against Cass' skin, and while it's not comfort or affection -- not here, not now, not like this -- it's awed and trembling as he tries to pull him closer.]
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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Dean's shifting, enough so that their erections rub together through too much denim. All reservations are falling away however, and he's struggling with fabric, trying to get it off of Cass. They might have just been fighting, and their hands might both be red with the same shade of blood smeared on their mouths, but that just makes it perverse. It doesn't make him not want to fall headlong into whatever this is.
Because he needs needs needs this in ways that are only suddenly dawning.]
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Hands are working their way under Dean's shirt again, fingertips retracing where they'd clawed earlier, skimming over the torn and raised flesh. He crooks them into the hem of the shirt, tugging it up and over the hunter's head before leaning in and sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, teeth grazing the split. It's not bleeding anymore but it's still heated and swollen and Cas can't help himself, has to press into it harder. His own lip throbs in protest but the pain is just encouraging him at this point.
His hands stray farther south and he cups Dean through his pants, a quick squeeze that's just this side of too hard, before going to work at the buttons of his fly. He needs this, needs to feel Dean hard and searing under his hands, against his own skin, and it's taking too damn long. He growls low in his throat, a warning, though he isn't sure who the warning is for, exactly.]
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He shudders, leaning into Cass' hands as the former angel traces over torn skin, raised red paths of fingernails that are not-quite welts. Then Cass is lifting the shirt off over his head, and Dean is all cooperation, even if it means pulling his hands away from the other man's body. Then they're kissing, or at least something like it, and Dean is nipping and sucking at Cass' lip as surely as the man is at his. He whines as teeth scrape harder against the cut in his lip and the attention has him pressing back heatedly into that mauling kiss.
His hands start at Cass' shoulders, trailing short nails down his torso, along his sides. He gasps, moaning and jerking his hips as a hand cups against that aching erection, and when Cass has his pants mostly undone, Dean's growling against his mouth, grabbing them and shoving them down his muscular legs. He's already starting to work on getting Cass out of his pants while he finishes kicking off his jeans.
This is desperate and aching and hot and he craves this in ways that leave him reeling. He wants Cass' hands on his bruises, he wants this heat, he wants the way their kisses are biting and how Cass' body presses against him.
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His hips rock forward into Dean's and he makes a strangled sound as his hardness slides against the other man's, slipping easily with the sweat. There's barely any air between them and it's suffocating as Cas brings his mouth to Dean's again, lips parted as they move against Dean's skin.
It's a bone-deep need to be closer that has him gripping the hunter's shoulders hard, fitting his hand over his first mark. If he could he'd burn it there again, burn handprints all over his body, but that kind of power is lost to him and so he just clings to it, fingertips pressing into the raised skin. He's moaning into Dean's mouth out of frustration and need, and he just wants this so much.]
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Hips jerking and their erections slide together, slicked with sweat, and it's electric fire that's liquid in his vein. The sensation is consuming, and it makes him groan. It's so good, but nowhere near enough. He wants more. He always wants more when it comes to Cass. It's never enough.
Then a hand is gripping his shoulder, fitting to that mark, and it tingles with heat. Cass might have lost his power, but there's still something about that burned handprint. It's erotic and he jerks and clings to Castiel, moaning and trying to pull him closer. He shifts, his other shoulder hitting against the wall, trying with almost incoherent desire to feed that seething desire.
His hands scraping nails against Cass' skin, and while it's not comfort or affection -- not here, not now, not like this -- it's awed and trembling as he tries to pull him closer.]
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