MIDFUCK MEME
♋ Respond with your character(s) and put their name and canon in the subject bar. (You can make blank comments with < ! >. Remove the spaces).
♋ Respond to other character(s) with your own as if you are right in the middle of having sex. How did it happen? Who started it? Who is topping who? All that matters is they are in the middle of
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He shivers as Cass traces his fingers over his muscles as they flex with Dean's attempt to fight his bonds. Cass is, he decides distantly, enjoying having him tied up far too much. Of course, truth is that it's stealing a twisted sort of heat through his body, flushing his skin as he trembles against the man above him. Dean isn't used to being tied up, isn't used to being restrained, and in the absence of whatever pheremone drug that monster had been affecting him with, he can't fight that desire to free himself. The fact that he can't has his cock twitching against Cass' body, moisture beading against the tip as he moans into the kiss, slipping their tongues together.
Cass' mouth slipping away from Dean's to press kisses against his neck and he's shaking at the feel of it. He's stronger than Cass now; it's a fact, proven in those moments when Dean's temper gets the better of him, and he's coming at Cass all fists and aggression. No matter that those moments usually end with anger sated in a different kind of friction, there's never been any doubt that he could beat the graceless angel in a straight fight. And yet, for the moment, he's at Cass' mercy until the man lets him go. He should ask for it, demand that Cass undo his hands, but he doesn't. Instead, he's gasping, his breath hitching in his throat as tongue presses against the handprint burned into his shoulder. It makes his cock twitch, his hips rolling up to try and get more friction, more contract, more touch when he's unable to take it for himself. He arches as fingers slide down his spine, and he wants to pull him close, touch and hold onto him.
And most certainly keep him from pulling away. But all Dean can do is growl wantonly through his teeth as he watches Cass, the way his body is revealed as tee-shirt and then denims hit the ground. It's a sight he doesn't often savor, usually faqr more concerned with touching and feeling. But tied up like this, he's forced to be good and watch. His eyes lewdly dropping down to Cass' cock, a breathy murmur on his lips before he looks back up to meet his eyes. He wants this. He wants it like this, and that's a surprising thought as burning hazel-greens look into sharp blues.]
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The kiss is heated, slick and filthy and Cas pushes his tongue past Dean's lips, licks into his mouth as his hands move over skin, taking his time in a way he rarely has the opportunity to enjoy. He loves the feel of him under his fingers, and he trails them down Dean's sides, skims over the tops of his thighs... He swipes his thumb up over his cock too, but it's a brief, fleeting touch meant more to tease than for any kind of relief.
It sends a shiver of pleasure through his body, the way he can feel Dean's body responding to his touch; he aches for some of that contact himself and so he moves a hand to his own cock. Wrapping long fingers around his length, he gasps into the kiss as he starts to move his hand. His strokes are quick, shallow jerks that are just enough to have him panting against Dean's lips, soft breathless sighs as he lifts his free hand and curls it over the curve of Dean's neck. He presses his forehead to Dean's, letting his eyes flutter closed as his mind wanders to imagining the feel of Dean's fingers wrapped around him, of Dean getting him off like this.]
Oh, Dean...
[His eyes slit open again and peer into Dean's. He knows it must be infuriating, to watch but not be able to touch; it would be for him, it'd be nothing short of torturous... He nips at Dean's bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth, letting his thumb stroke over the tendon at the side of his neck before sliding his hand into his hair, up over his arm and inching closer to his bonds.]
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He's all desire, heat and willingness when Cass kisses him. He returns it with a low murmur of pleasure in the back of his throat as his lips part under the other man's tongue, almost invitation as his tongue slides against Cass'. There's a muffled noise, sharp and wanton that might have been a whine when there's that brief touch against his cock, teasing, and it makes his body arch. It's not enough to displace Cass from his thighs; almost as if Dean likes him there.
And then Cass is jerking fingers against his own cock, and it's torture to have to watch. His eyes fluttering, gasping sharply against the way the other man pants into his mouth. He tilts his head into the hand that presses against the side of his neck, a flutter of eyelashes and a low groan at the way that Cass says his name. His voice is thin and hot with this feeling humming inside his body; it's torture to not be allowed to touch, but it's a torture he likes.
Not that he doesn't want his hands all over Cass, touching and tasting and getting him off with lips and fingers, but there's a trust to this, and it has his pulse racing. Something he thought he couldn't, didn't know how to give until Cass was so gleefully refusing to untie him. He should have insisted, should have made it clear he wasn't playing around. Instead, having that bit of control taken away from him is nothing if not a relentless turn on that Dean wouldn't know how to begin to admit to.]
Cass..
[Dean's breath comes shaky, a little uncertain as Cass' fingers slide through his hair and slip closer to those restraints. His body shivers, and he kisses him, because he doesn't know how to ask for what he wants.]
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He feels dizzy, both with the physical pleasure and the high it's giving him to be in control, to render Dean's considerable strength useless until he decides to let him go. Control of this nature isn't usually something he craves but right now he's drunk on it; their relationship is a one of constant give and take: bruises, aggression, affection-- right now he wants to take.
Breaking the kiss, his lips twitch into a smile against Dean's as his fingers toy with the knots holding his hands together. He's eyeing his knife where he'd dropped it on the side of the bed; it's not far.]
What do you want, Dean?
[Cas knows exactly what he wants: he wants Dean, wants Dean's hands on him, Dean's body fucking him into this ludicrously extravagant bed. Wants Dean to want him more than that woman he'd followed here. He wants so much it aches, and he nibbles at Dean's lips as fingers ghost over his cock, trying to goad him into wanting it too.]
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