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.]
Hahaha that's definitely very awesomeheavenonhighOctober 2 2011, 18:45:08 UTC
[Cas's body is arching into Dean's and they're pressed together as closely as possible but it still isn't enough, he needs more. More pain, more contact, more of Dean's fingers and nails and teeth. Growling he pushes himself of of the wall, not disentangling their bodies and walks them back to Dean's bed, where he feels certain the hunter has been entertaining some of the camp's female residents at some point in the recent past, if the mussed sheets are any indication.
And maybe he's jealous too, and the fact that he has no right to be doesn't even enter into the equation. He nips at Dean's lip again and pulls them both down, the contact with the mattress and Dean falling on top of him pushing the air out of his lungs. Their bodies knock together and it hurts but it's still not enough. His hand's still pressed over that mark, clinging tightly as he tries to catch his breath, still dizzy from the pain and the drugs. Arching his back again, his legs come up to wrap around Dean's waist, thighs pressing into bruised hips and he breathes out Dean's name at the friction.]
I had my heater at 40. It came on. After CRANKING IT I made hot cocoa. And thought of CassDean. XDwinchester_lostOctober 3 2011, 10:02:26 UTC
[He had, of course. He wasn't even sure what her name had been. It doesn't mean anything. It was supposed to be a balm. It was supposed to make it hurt less. But, if anything, it just seems to make the jealousy sharper. Because he wants the kisses to be Cass', and they aren't. It's grating, and not what he wants, and he pretends it's just part of his cold-asshole demeanor because it's always been easier to go through the motions.
He has no right to be jealous, and yet he still is. It's not like he's told Cass, it's not like he's ever asked for what he wants. But now there's this, and it makes him groan into Cass' mouth as they tumble down onto the rumpled sheets of his bed. It hurts, burns, the way their bodies hit bruises as they sink into the mattress. He winches as thighs press at the bruises on his hips, and his arms wrap around Cass' chest, his face nuzzling into the former angel's collarbone in a way that's surprisingly gentle for a few long moments.
He nibbles at it with scrapes of teeth, as if trying to hide how he feels in this sexuality of aggression.]
Guuuh </3 ..lol I had some the other day too and thought of exactly the same thing, happy times :BheavenonhighOctober 3 2011, 19:13:57 UTC
Oh--
[Cas moans at the softness of Dean's face against his chest, then squirms at the teeth. Tilting his head back and exposing his neck, he rocks his hips forward, breath stuttering. It's so good, the gentleness and then the slight burn of pain, the scratch of stubble across his skin, it's so Dean and Cas sighs again and runs his hands up and down Dean's back.
He can't ignore smell of Dean on the sheets, Dean and someone else, and he feels another stab of anger and jealousy. He pulled Dean out of hell, he stayed behind when his family left, he lost everything to follow Dean into hell again... Not whoever it is he can smell on the sheets. And then he's digging little crescents into Dean's skin before he knows what he's doing, trying to drag him closer.]
[Cass tilts his head back, and Dean lets his head slip into the space at his neck and shoulder. He nuzzles at the skin, gasping as fingers dig into his hips, moaning at the feel of it as nails press crescents into his skin. He can feel his own anger reflected back at him, and it draws a low groan from his lips as he jerks his hips and arches up into the former-angel's body above him. There's a part of him that wants to admit to whatever this is, because he wants this, wants him, wants to hold onto this feeling. Because Cass is raw and hot and makes him throb with desire. This is honest for the first time in a long time, instead of just because it's who people think he is.
He nibbles at the skin, nuzzling into Cass' neck, breathing hot words against flesh because he needs this. Jealousy and anger still singing in his veins, that edge of hurt he's still too proud to admit to. But it's there in every touch. It's in the way that hands cling and clutch and the way that he arches into the pain that they both keep pressing into skin. He likes the edge, the sharpness of it. He'd never say it, but he likes those bruises as much as he's cherished that burn Cass left on his shoulder. Because they feel like they mean something, and the red marks of teeth he leaves in Cass' skin make him smile.]
[Cas is writhing under Dean's touches, under the bites and scrapes and nails digging in. The marks that Dean's teeth leave in his skin sting and burn and if Cas had any semblance of thoughts other than more and need and deandeandean he'd probably wonder what it says about him that he's enjoying it this much, arching into the pain and letting it overtake everything else.
Muted curses are spilling from his lips and every brush of Dean's skin against his, every new bruise and welt being pressed or bitten into him is bringing him that much closer to the edge. It's overwhelming and hot and he can't breath through the haze of it. His eyes are slitted and his vision is blurry, pupils too dilated from the pleasure and so he can barely see Dean's face when he's moving forward to crush their mouths together again.]
[On the upside, at least Cass isn't alone in his depravity. Dean's just as guilty of leaning into it, arching into stings and bruises, allowing the former angel's touches to press just that much harder. He's licking at the marks he leaves, sucking over the imprints of his teeth before letting his mouth move to claim more of him. Touches hungry and demanding, whispers of mineminemine he's too scared to say. And so he hurts him just a little, just enough to see his touches burned into his skin.
He's moaning, shaking and shivering as the other man's hands still feel so hot. Touches and fingerprints and bruises feel like burn-scars, feel like they're white-hot and sinking into his skin. It feels like claiming one another and that just makes the trembling sensations hotter. It's embarrassing, but he's not going to last like this. The friction, the hot-sweet burn of need and harsh touches.
Lips soften when their mouths touch, tugging at Cass' lips more than biting, licking and tasting and feeling as hazel-green's flutter closed.]
I feel like this lj maintenance warning is taunting me 8'C noooo down lj :'(heavenonhighOctober 4 2011, 22:42:24 UTC
[He's sighing into the kisses and touches as his hips stutter, jerking into Dean and he's close, so close...]
D-Dean--
[There's a swipe of tongue against his lips and it pushes him over, the soft wetness and the burn of it across the split have him spilling between them, hands roaming over Dean's back and lower, nails scraping and digging with his release. A whimper escapes his lips and it might be Dean's name again, indecipherable through the waves of ecstasy shuddering through his body. It's fierce, this pleasure swallowing him and it has him clinging to Dean, still dragging him closer, afraid of being swept away by the intensity of it.]
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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And maybe he's jealous too, and the fact that he has no right to be doesn't even enter into the equation. He nips at Dean's lip again and pulls them both down, the contact with the mattress and Dean falling on top of him pushing the air out of his lungs. Their bodies knock together and it hurts but it's still not enough. His hand's still pressed over that mark, clinging tightly as he tries to catch his breath, still dizzy from the pain and the drugs. Arching his back again, his legs come up to wrap around Dean's waist, thighs pressing into bruised hips and he breathes out Dean's name at the friction.]
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He has no right to be jealous, and yet he still is. It's not like he's told Cass, it's not like he's ever asked for what he wants. But now there's this, and it makes him groan into Cass' mouth as they tumble down onto the rumpled sheets of his bed. It hurts, burns, the way their bodies hit bruises as they sink into the mattress. He winches as thighs press at the bruises on his hips, and his arms wrap around Cass' chest, his face nuzzling into the former angel's collarbone in a way that's surprisingly gentle for a few long moments.
He nibbles at it with scrapes of teeth, as if trying to hide how he feels in this sexuality of aggression.]
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[Cas moans at the softness of Dean's face against his chest, then squirms at the teeth. Tilting his head back and exposing his neck, he rocks his hips forward, breath stuttering. It's so good, the gentleness and then the slight burn of pain, the scratch of stubble across his skin, it's so Dean and Cas sighs again and runs his hands up and down Dean's back.
He can't ignore smell of Dean on the sheets, Dean and someone else, and he feels another stab of anger and jealousy. He pulled Dean out of hell, he stayed behind when his family left, he lost everything to follow Dean into hell again... Not whoever it is he can smell on the sheets. And then he's digging little crescents into Dean's skin before he knows what he's doing, trying to drag him closer.]
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[Cass tilts his head back, and Dean lets his head slip into the space at his neck and shoulder. He nuzzles at the skin, gasping as fingers dig into his hips, moaning at the feel of it as nails press crescents into his skin. He can feel his own anger reflected back at him, and it draws a low groan from his lips as he jerks his hips and arches up into the former-angel's body above him. There's a part of him that wants to admit to whatever this is, because he wants this, wants him, wants to hold onto this feeling. Because Cass is raw and hot and makes him throb with desire. This is honest for the first time in a long time, instead of just because it's who people think he is.
He nibbles at the skin, nuzzling into Cass' neck, breathing hot words against flesh because he needs this. Jealousy and anger still singing in his veins, that edge of hurt he's still too proud to admit to. But it's there in every touch. It's in the way that hands cling and clutch and the way that he arches into the pain that they both keep pressing into skin. He likes the edge, the sharpness of it. He'd never say it, but he likes those bruises as much as he's cherished that burn Cass left on his shoulder. Because they feel like they mean something, and the red marks of teeth he leaves in Cass' skin make him smile.]
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Muted curses are spilling from his lips and every brush of Dean's skin against his, every new bruise and welt being pressed or bitten into him is bringing him that much closer to the edge. It's overwhelming and hot and he can't breath through the haze of it. His eyes are slitted and his vision is blurry, pupils too dilated from the pleasure and so he can barely see Dean's face when he's moving forward to crush their mouths together again.]
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He's moaning, shaking and shivering as the other man's hands still feel so hot. Touches and fingerprints and bruises feel like burn-scars, feel like they're white-hot and sinking into his skin. It feels like claiming one another and that just makes the trembling sensations hotter. It's embarrassing, but he's not going to last like this. The friction, the hot-sweet burn of need and harsh touches.
Lips soften when their mouths touch, tugging at Cass' lips more than biting, licking and tasting and feeling as hazel-green's flutter closed.]
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D-Dean--
[There's a swipe of tongue against his lips and it pushes him over, the soft wetness and the burn of it across the split have him spilling between them, hands roaming over Dean's back and lower, nails scraping and digging with his release. A whimper escapes his lips and it might be Dean's name again, indecipherable through the waves of ecstasy shuddering through his body. It's fierce, this pleasure swallowing him and it has him clinging to Dean, still dragging him closer, afraid of being swept away by the intensity of it.]
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