fic: mercury storm (Dean/Cas, NC-17)
Title: Mercury Storm
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: piercings
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~2,000
Summary: Dean had known something was up all day. He just wasn't sure what.
a/n: Thanks to brokentoy for reading this through! For the dc_summerlovin exchange.
Dean had known something was up all day -- or, at least, since Cas came in looking furtive and carrying his trenchcoat in the crook of one arm, trying to act casual, though he never took the damn thing off outdoors. Dean said, "Cas?" and quirked an eyebrow curiously, but Cas only made some excuse about chafing and wandered off to steal one of Sam's stupid microbrewery beers.
So, yeah, Dean had known something was up, not least because Cas fidgeted all the way through Days of Our Lives, to which he usually paid rapt attention, and kept kind of arching his back like it hurt. But Dean had just thought he'd scratched himself or something, pulled the muscles in his back overestimating his own strength and now was embarrassed about it. Cas got that way sometimes, now his Grace had left him. It wasn't something they talked about.
It wasn't until later, when Dean had his knees clamped either side of Cas's hips and both hands working his shirt buttons, that he realized what the something was.
"Shit, Cas, did you --?"
Cas was always responsive, untrammelled and without any of the inhibitions that were bred into humans from birth, but now he was like a live wire, twisting beneath Dean's hands as if every inch of him was sensitised. When Dean tugged at his shirt, fingers not even grazing Cas's skin, Cas groaned and arched his back like an alleycat, spurs of his hips grinding into the meat of Dean's thighs. It was hot, sure; Dean could feel himself twitching responsively, but baffling, too, and Dean was half wondering if Cas had gotten hold of some e or something when the two halves of Cas's shirt slithered open, and...fuck.
"Christ. Where d'you get this?"
The ring lay flat against Cas's skin, an innocuous twist of silver pushed through the hard, pink bud of his nipple. Entranced, Dean rubbed the pad of his thumb over it in a slow, soft drag, and Cas hissed through his teeth, pushing up into the light touch as if he craved more of it.
"There's a place in town -- by the -- " Cas broke off on a low, juddering groan, teeth sinking into the swell of his lower lip as his body twisted spasmodically under Dean's thumb. It seemed crazy, that a point of contact so infinitesimal could make Cas writhe like that, and Dean could feel his blood beginning to rush at the thought of it, nerve endings coming alive all over his skin. Curious, he flattened his thumb so the whole long pad of it pressed the ring down against Cas's chest, and then pulled downward.
"You go out specially to get this?" He tugged, a single little jerky motion as if he were testing a knot, and Cas cried out, hips bucking, the tendon in his neck pulling as it lengthened.
"Yes, I --" Cas swallowed a moan, rolled his hips deliberately up against Dean's, and, fuck, he was hard, the full fat length of him stiff and hot in his pants. "I heard you mention that you liked them. And I, when you touch --" Cas swallowed again, pink tongue coming out to wet his lips, and Dean pushed on, a rush of eagerness welling up in his throat, forcing words out of him.
"When I play with your nipples," he supplied, voice hot and rushed, "you like that, don't you?" God, Dean was abruptly, achingly hard, now, heat prickling at the nape of his neck, between his shoulderblades. His breath caught, and he leaned in to mouth at the hollow of Cas's throat where sweat had begun to glisten. "Like it when I pull on 'em, twist 'em, so you thought you'd go get little rings through 'em so they'd hurt that good all the time, that it?" He seized the ring between thumb and forefinger then and tugged, sharply, and Cas's whole body bowed up from the mattress.
"Ff -- yes!" Fingernails dug into the back of Dean's neck, his shoulders, and his dick leaped against Dean's, kinky little fucker that he was. These were brand-new piercings; they must hurt, not some faux-kinky little twinge of spiked sensation, but apparently Cas liked that, from the way he was thrashing around. Christ. Dean had never thought himself less than adventurous in bed, but Cas was in a different league altogether, ready for anything Dean suggested and weirdly likely to suggest the dirtiest shit himself. Dean had never seen the appeal of the pain-pleasure loop himself, but seeing Cas so fucking into it...God. Heat slammed through him in a dizzying wave and he ground down, shoved at Cas's shirt where it still clung to his shoulders, tore it off him entirely.
"Shoulda gotten the other one done, too." Beneath him like this, Cas felt narrow, Dean's thumbs almost meeting in the dip of his navel when he spanned Cas's waist with his hands. But when he drew his thumbs upward, felt the tensile strength in Cas as he craned up, whole body begging for it, he couldn't mistake this diminished, human Cas for anything fragile, anything weak. Cas was thrumming with energy, thrumming for Dean, and that was the strongest rush of all.
"Would you like that?" Cas's voice was low, and his thighs splayed easy and wide around Dean's, loose, an invitation. "I'd like your mouth, Dean." The hand on Dean's neck slid upward, carding into his hair, and Cas arched his back further, presenting himself for Dean's tongue and teeth and lips. "Suck it."
"Jesus," Dean rasped out. He could have protested, but the glint of the ring against the flush of Cas's nipple drew his mouth, his wholehearted attention. He ducked his head, nudged at the ring with his lips and swallowed a groan at the sound Cas made when Dean's tongue crept out to curl gently around the metal, cool but warming in his mouth.
"Dean." The fingers tightened in Dean's hair, and Dean let them guide him, parting his lips to take the whole of Cas's nipple wetly into his mouth. Dean loved to do this, always; loved the sounds Cas made and the way he thrashed at the sensation, but it had never been like this: Cas cradling the back of Dean's neck as his teeth closed on the ring and pulled; Cas's breathing shredded into a series of ragged moans.
"Fuck, Cas." Part of him wanted to go on doing this forever, see if he could make Cas come in his pants just like this, just from Dean's mouth, but the rest of him wanted to see Cas's face while Dean took him apart, the tiny thread of silver the key to his downfall. "You have any idea how fucking hot this is?"
"The piercing?" The word sounded odd in Cas's mouth, and he smiled darkly around it, as if he knew. Dean shivered, thumb coming back to nudge at the ring, rubbing slick circles around it through the shine of his own spit.
"Yeah, the piercing -- you, the kinky shit you think of." Dean stretched up to bite at the bolt of Cas's jaw and felt Cas's laughter reverberate beneath him, Cas's dick shove up against his own as he canted his hips.
"You like to defile what you perceive to be innocent." Cas spread his legs further, then lifted them until his heels were pressed into the small of Dean's back. "Do you like it less, now I'm not an angel any more?" Slowly, deliberately, Cas churned his hips, and Dean felt it spark all the way up his spine.
"Fuck, no." He was close. God, he was so fucking close, just from this, and Dean knew he shouldn't let himself fall into rhythm like this if he didn't want to come in his pants like a teenager, but Cas was fucking hot this way and there was no rule against going twice. "I like you more every fuckin' day, Cas."
Cas groaned, hips rocking up to meet Dean's as they descended, and Dean lost any impetus to stop.
His fingers returned to the ring as if drawn inexorably there, twisting it sharply with rough little flicks of his wrist. Beneath him, Cas writhed, thrusts going sloppy until Dean took hold of his pelvis one-handed, holding him still for a brutal several strokes of his hips, flash-heat slams. Another tug, and Cas's moans had become almost cries, but Dean leaned up to catch them in his mouth, licking wetly over Cas's tongue.
The heat built between them hectic and animal, a frenetic rut that drove Dean onward. The ring was hot as Dean's blood, now, rolled between Dean's fingers, and every tug seemed to go as much to Dean's dick as to Cas's, every thrust sending a ripple of want up his spine. He wanted to come, Christ, so turned on his skin sang with it, and he groped his free hand between them, snapping open the button of his jeans and shoving down the zipper with the inside of his wrist to free his cock, inelegant and desperate.
"Cas," he groaned, wet and hot into the kiss gone sloppy and slack, "gonna come, man. You gonna come for me?" He fumbled shakily for Cas's buttons, found the velvet heat of him beneath. Cas was leaking, the whole crown of his dick slick with precome, and Dean felt his own dick pulse at the sensation, the sweat-sharp smell of Cas like sex and feral things.
"Cas," he got out, "Cas, fuck," and then his thumbnail caught at the ring in Cas's nipple and Cas was surging up against him like the tide, coming all over Dean's hand and Dean's bare dick and their bellies in deep, hard pulses.
That did it. Dean had been riding the edge for minutes, but now Cas was biting his lip on a gut-deep moan, hips still grinding against Dean's through the slick of his own come, and Dean couldn't have held out a second longer if his life had depended on it. He seized up, back arching, and his fingers twisted roughly on the ring as he came, spilling all over the pan of Cas's pelvis.
After, when they had recovered their breath, Cas turned his body so his cheek rested against Dean's shoulder, and Dean tracked the movement of Cas's hand as it drifted toward his own nipple, rubbing lazy circles around the swell of it, pink where the metal had tugged.
"So," Cas said, "the other one, then?" His fingers were white with their come, and Dean's laugh was half-hysterical, dick giving a valiant twitch.
"God," he said, "yeah," and lifted his head to press his mouth to Cas's, wet little cling of a kiss. "You kinky son of a bitch. Yeah."
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: piercings
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~2,000
Summary: Dean had known something was up all day. He just wasn't sure what.
a/n: Thanks to brokentoy for reading this through! For the dc_summerlovin exchange.
Dean had known something was up all day -- or, at least, since Cas came in looking furtive and carrying his trenchcoat in the crook of one arm, trying to act casual, though he never took the damn thing off outdoors. Dean said, "Cas?" and quirked an eyebrow curiously, but Cas only made some excuse about chafing and wandered off to steal one of Sam's stupid microbrewery beers.
So, yeah, Dean had known something was up, not least because Cas fidgeted all the way through Days of Our Lives, to which he usually paid rapt attention, and kept kind of arching his back like it hurt. But Dean had just thought he'd scratched himself or something, pulled the muscles in his back overestimating his own strength and now was embarrassed about it. Cas got that way sometimes, now his Grace had left him. It wasn't something they talked about.
It wasn't until later, when Dean had his knees clamped either side of Cas's hips and both hands working his shirt buttons, that he realized what the something was.
"Shit, Cas, did you --?"
Cas was always responsive, untrammelled and without any of the inhibitions that were bred into humans from birth, but now he was like a live wire, twisting beneath Dean's hands as if every inch of him was sensitised. When Dean tugged at his shirt, fingers not even grazing Cas's skin, Cas groaned and arched his back like an alleycat, spurs of his hips grinding into the meat of Dean's thighs. It was hot, sure; Dean could feel himself twitching responsively, but baffling, too, and Dean was half wondering if Cas had gotten hold of some e or something when the two halves of Cas's shirt slithered open, and...fuck.
"Christ. Where d'you get this?"
The ring lay flat against Cas's skin, an innocuous twist of silver pushed through the hard, pink bud of his nipple. Entranced, Dean rubbed the pad of his thumb over it in a slow, soft drag, and Cas hissed through his teeth, pushing up into the light touch as if he craved more of it.
"There's a place in town -- by the -- " Cas broke off on a low, juddering groan, teeth sinking into the swell of his lower lip as his body twisted spasmodically under Dean's thumb. It seemed crazy, that a point of contact so infinitesimal could make Cas writhe like that, and Dean could feel his blood beginning to rush at the thought of it, nerve endings coming alive all over his skin. Curious, he flattened his thumb so the whole long pad of it pressed the ring down against Cas's chest, and then pulled downward.
"You go out specially to get this?" He tugged, a single little jerky motion as if he were testing a knot, and Cas cried out, hips bucking, the tendon in his neck pulling as it lengthened.
"Yes, I --" Cas swallowed a moan, rolled his hips deliberately up against Dean's, and, fuck, he was hard, the full fat length of him stiff and hot in his pants. "I heard you mention that you liked them. And I, when you touch --" Cas swallowed again, pink tongue coming out to wet his lips, and Dean pushed on, a rush of eagerness welling up in his throat, forcing words out of him.
"When I play with your nipples," he supplied, voice hot and rushed, "you like that, don't you?" God, Dean was abruptly, achingly hard, now, heat prickling at the nape of his neck, between his shoulderblades. His breath caught, and he leaned in to mouth at the hollow of Cas's throat where sweat had begun to glisten. "Like it when I pull on 'em, twist 'em, so you thought you'd go get little rings through 'em so they'd hurt that good all the time, that it?" He seized the ring between thumb and forefinger then and tugged, sharply, and Cas's whole body bowed up from the mattress.
"Ff -- yes!" Fingernails dug into the back of Dean's neck, his shoulders, and his dick leaped against Dean's, kinky little fucker that he was. These were brand-new piercings; they must hurt, not some faux-kinky little twinge of spiked sensation, but apparently Cas liked that, from the way he was thrashing around. Christ. Dean had never thought himself less than adventurous in bed, but Cas was in a different league altogether, ready for anything Dean suggested and weirdly likely to suggest the dirtiest shit himself. Dean had never seen the appeal of the pain-pleasure loop himself, but seeing Cas so fucking into it...God. Heat slammed through him in a dizzying wave and he ground down, shoved at Cas's shirt where it still clung to his shoulders, tore it off him entirely.
"Shoulda gotten the other one done, too." Beneath him like this, Cas felt narrow, Dean's thumbs almost meeting in the dip of his navel when he spanned Cas's waist with his hands. But when he drew his thumbs upward, felt the tensile strength in Cas as he craned up, whole body begging for it, he couldn't mistake this diminished, human Cas for anything fragile, anything weak. Cas was thrumming with energy, thrumming for Dean, and that was the strongest rush of all.
"Would you like that?" Cas's voice was low, and his thighs splayed easy and wide around Dean's, loose, an invitation. "I'd like your mouth, Dean." The hand on Dean's neck slid upward, carding into his hair, and Cas arched his back further, presenting himself for Dean's tongue and teeth and lips. "Suck it."
"Jesus," Dean rasped out. He could have protested, but the glint of the ring against the flush of Cas's nipple drew his mouth, his wholehearted attention. He ducked his head, nudged at the ring with his lips and swallowed a groan at the sound Cas made when Dean's tongue crept out to curl gently around the metal, cool but warming in his mouth.
"Dean." The fingers tightened in Dean's hair, and Dean let them guide him, parting his lips to take the whole of Cas's nipple wetly into his mouth. Dean loved to do this, always; loved the sounds Cas made and the way he thrashed at the sensation, but it had never been like this: Cas cradling the back of Dean's neck as his teeth closed on the ring and pulled; Cas's breathing shredded into a series of ragged moans.
"Fuck, Cas." Part of him wanted to go on doing this forever, see if he could make Cas come in his pants just like this, just from Dean's mouth, but the rest of him wanted to see Cas's face while Dean took him apart, the tiny thread of silver the key to his downfall. "You have any idea how fucking hot this is?"
"The piercing?" The word sounded odd in Cas's mouth, and he smiled darkly around it, as if he knew. Dean shivered, thumb coming back to nudge at the ring, rubbing slick circles around it through the shine of his own spit.
"Yeah, the piercing -- you, the kinky shit you think of." Dean stretched up to bite at the bolt of Cas's jaw and felt Cas's laughter reverberate beneath him, Cas's dick shove up against his own as he canted his hips.
"You like to defile what you perceive to be innocent." Cas spread his legs further, then lifted them until his heels were pressed into the small of Dean's back. "Do you like it less, now I'm not an angel any more?" Slowly, deliberately, Cas churned his hips, and Dean felt it spark all the way up his spine.
"Fuck, no." He was close. God, he was so fucking close, just from this, and Dean knew he shouldn't let himself fall into rhythm like this if he didn't want to come in his pants like a teenager, but Cas was fucking hot this way and there was no rule against going twice. "I like you more every fuckin' day, Cas."
Cas groaned, hips rocking up to meet Dean's as they descended, and Dean lost any impetus to stop.
His fingers returned to the ring as if drawn inexorably there, twisting it sharply with rough little flicks of his wrist. Beneath him, Cas writhed, thrusts going sloppy until Dean took hold of his pelvis one-handed, holding him still for a brutal several strokes of his hips, flash-heat slams. Another tug, and Cas's moans had become almost cries, but Dean leaned up to catch them in his mouth, licking wetly over Cas's tongue.
The heat built between them hectic and animal, a frenetic rut that drove Dean onward. The ring was hot as Dean's blood, now, rolled between Dean's fingers, and every tug seemed to go as much to Dean's dick as to Cas's, every thrust sending a ripple of want up his spine. He wanted to come, Christ, so turned on his skin sang with it, and he groped his free hand between them, snapping open the button of his jeans and shoving down the zipper with the inside of his wrist to free his cock, inelegant and desperate.
"Cas," he groaned, wet and hot into the kiss gone sloppy and slack, "gonna come, man. You gonna come for me?" He fumbled shakily for Cas's buttons, found the velvet heat of him beneath. Cas was leaking, the whole crown of his dick slick with precome, and Dean felt his own dick pulse at the sensation, the sweat-sharp smell of Cas like sex and feral things.
"Cas," he got out, "Cas, fuck," and then his thumbnail caught at the ring in Cas's nipple and Cas was surging up against him like the tide, coming all over Dean's hand and Dean's bare dick and their bellies in deep, hard pulses.
That did it. Dean had been riding the edge for minutes, but now Cas was biting his lip on a gut-deep moan, hips still grinding against Dean's through the slick of his own come, and Dean couldn't have held out a second longer if his life had depended on it. He seized up, back arching, and his fingers twisted roughly on the ring as he came, spilling all over the pan of Cas's pelvis.
After, when they had recovered their breath, Cas turned his body so his cheek rested against Dean's shoulder, and Dean tracked the movement of Cas's hand as it drifted toward his own nipple, rubbing lazy circles around the swell of it, pink where the metal had tugged.
"So," Cas said, "the other one, then?" His fingers were white with their come, and Dean's laugh was half-hysterical, dick giving a valiant twitch.
"God," he said, "yeah," and lifted his head to press his mouth to Cas's, wet little cling of a kiss. "You kinky son of a bitch. Yeah."