Dean sighs, and then squeaks when Castiel starts sucking a mark into his neck. “He’s, uh, he’s an angel, Sam. I think he’s got more control.”
Sam just blinks. “Yes, that’s why he’s dry-humping you in front of me, because he’s the pinnacle of control.”
“I haven’t torn his clothing off yet,” Castiel growls, tugging on Dean’s shirt.
Sam shakes his head, and the fear grows stronger. “Dean.”
Dean nods. “It’s okay, Sam,” he says, and Sam swallows. “I trust Cas. Trust my judgment here, Sam.”
LOL! Poor Sam! Then again, the image of Cas all horny and desperate for sex with Dean is a very hot image.
“Cas,” Dean groans, his hips still moving, “I want… Fuck, Cas. I want you to fuck me.”
Castiel slips his fingers out grabs Dean’s hips, digging in his fingers, and pulls him across the rosy comforter to line him up with Castiel’s reddened cock. Dean lets out a high-pitched noise and his dick twitches against his stomach. Castiel raises an eyebrow at him, and Dean blushes.
“I, uh,” he clears his throat, looking away, “like being manhandled. A little. Kinda.”
LMAO! So busted!
He starts the slow slide inside him, and the pressure and warmth he’d felt around his fingers is doubled. The pleasure from it, from the soft, gasping grunts Dean lets out as Castiel sinks deeper into his delicious heat, and from knowing that Dean is enjoying this, that he wants this, is too overwhelming. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back as his balls come to rest against Dean’s ass, feeling the heat and warmth and pleasure and fulfillment. Then Dean clenches around him, and Castiel is coming in sharp bursts of pleasure, white lights flashing in his eyes.
He returns to himself panting, blinking, a little stunned, and looks at Dean, who simply raises an eyebrow. “Let me guess,” Dean starts, voice raspy, “that was Famine’s effect, too?” His head flops back onto the mattress.
Castiel scowls down at himself. “It’s only a setback,” he says, rolling his hips slightly, feeling the slick wetness inside Dean.
Sam just blinks. “Yes, that’s why he’s dry-humping you in front of me, because he’s the pinnacle of control.”
“I haven’t torn his clothing off yet,” Castiel growls, tugging on Dean’s shirt.
Sam shakes his head, and the fear grows stronger. “Dean.”
Dean nods. “It’s okay, Sam,” he says, and Sam swallows. “I trust Cas. Trust my judgment here, Sam.”
LOL! Poor Sam! Then again, the image of Cas all horny and desperate for sex with Dean is a very hot image.
“Cas,” Dean groans, his hips still moving, “I want… Fuck, Cas. I want you to fuck me.”
Castiel slips his fingers out grabs Dean’s hips, digging in his fingers, and pulls him across the rosy comforter to line him up with Castiel’s reddened cock. Dean lets out a high-pitched noise and his dick twitches against his stomach. Castiel raises an eyebrow at him, and Dean blushes.
“I, uh,” he clears his throat, looking away, “like being manhandled. A little. Kinda.”
LMAO! So busted!
He starts the slow slide inside him, and the pressure and warmth he’d felt around his fingers is doubled. The pleasure from it, from the soft, gasping grunts Dean lets out as Castiel sinks deeper into his delicious heat, and from knowing that Dean is enjoying this, that he wants this, is too overwhelming. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back as his balls come to rest against Dean’s ass, feeling the heat and warmth and pleasure and fulfillment. Then Dean clenches around him, and Castiel is coming in sharp bursts of pleasure, white lights flashing in his eyes.
He returns to himself panting, blinking, a little stunned, and looks at Dean, who simply raises an eyebrow. “Let me guess,” Dean starts, voice raspy, “that was Famine’s effect, too?” His head flops back onto the mattress.
Castiel scowls down at himself. “It’s only a setback,” he says, rolling his hips slightly, feeling the slick wetness inside Dean.
*snort*
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