Fic: Spn - Good Day - Complete
Title: Good Day - Companion to Good Night and Good Morning.
Author: ravengrimm
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Genre: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2235
Warnings: SEX!!!! XD
Spoilers: None
Notes: Mah first fanfic sex scene, ahhhhh!! I'm so embarrassed, I hope it's okay :'')
Comments and critique are always appreciated :)
Previous Pieces: Good Night and Good Morning
Talk about awkward.
Dean waking up to find himself sprawled across an angel, his head resting on the his chest, his arm draped across him, and when the hell did Castiel end up under the covers?! Not helpful!
Dean doesn’t know how he’s supposed to react to this; he’s never been in a situation quite like this one before. He could pretend he’s not really awake and roll over, act like it didn’t happen… Shrug it off as no big thing… When really Dean feels way too hot and turned on by Castiel lying beneath his half naked body for it to be remotely classed as ‘no big thing’.
And Castiel isn’t exactly making things any easier, having turned to face Dean, their noses touching, and Dean so badly wants to kiss him. He could just tilt his chin up and their lips would meet and that would be that, and just when did Dean start wanting to kiss Castiel?!
To fight the urge Dean clenches his hands and finds Castiel’s wrist between his fingers. The warmth and skin makes Dean’s whole body shiver and he loosens his grip but his fingers linger, reluctant to loose that contact, his heart beating a little faster.
Castiel’s breath is warm against his lips as Dean’s eyelids flutter closed completely, only to open a fraction so that he can examine the fine stubble on the angel’s jaw, and Dean can imagine how amazing that would feel scraping across his lips.
Castiel moves his arm slightly and it startles Dean into pulling his hand away and his fingers ghost across Castiel’s thighs leaving Dean’s stomach in knots as he flops on his back, his eyes tight. And when he opens them again slightly, he stares at the ceiling, throat dry and notices out the corner of his eye that Castiel is doing the same, not questioning Dean’s weird behaviour, just laying there, silently staring at nothing, until…
“Dean?”
Dean starts. He isn’t prepared for speech this early in the morning, and Dean’s body is doing things that are really unhelpful given the circumstances, so it’s a moment before he feels ready to respond.
“Yeah?” he asks at last, a little shakily as he tries to hide the inappropriate thoughts floating around his mind. And pretending he’s not awake now would be ridiculous.
Castiel doesn’t answer, he just stares up at the yellowing ceiling thoughtfully, and the silence makes Dean curious so, yawning broadly, he sits up on his elbows to get a better look at the angel in his bed.
And that should be wrong in so many ways; an angel in Dean’s bed, but Dean really doesn’t care. Because looking down at Castiel now, that soft, thoughtful look in his eyes, his lips slightly parted, all Dean can think about is kissing him, about tangling his fingers in his hair, about running his hand all over that firm, masculine body and … Dean is leaning in!
…About to kiss him, his body pressing down against Castiel’s, their lips inches apart and Dean can’t breath.
He pulls back sharply, too sharply and he falls backwards off of the bed, and crashes to the floor in a heap of tangled bed sheets.
He curses loudly and finds Castiel leaning over the edge of the bed curiously.
“Are you okay, Dean?” he asks and Dean gathers the sheets around him.
“Fine,” he grumbles and shifts around trying to free his legs from the sheets so that he can stand.
When he looks up this time, Castiel is sitting on the edge of the bed watching Dean as though he wants to say something but can’t find the right words.
“Urm, yeah?” Dean prompts, pausing in his failing fight for freedom.
Castiel closes his eyes a moment, a frown knitting his brows together. “Would you…” he starts but bites his lip, and his frown deepens.
He opens his eyes again and sighs, his shoulders sagging more than usual.
“Cas, what’s up?” Dean asks, genuinely concerned that something is troubling Castiel, and anything that troubles an angel should surely trouble Dean as well.
He sits up straighter when Castiel opens his mouth to speak again, but all he comes out with is, “Do you-“ before closing it again, and turning his eyes down and away from Dean.
“Do I…?” Dean prompts for a second time, but Castiel just looks annoyed, frustrated maybe as he tents his fingers together, resting his elbows on his knees.
Dean waits but it doesn’t look as though Castiel is going to respond, so he attempts to crouch and manoeuvre himself back into Castiel’s line of sight. But that doesn’t go according to plan, as yanking his foot free of the sheets causes him to loose his balance and he falls forward.
Failing to brace himself properly on Castiel’s knees, his hands slide up the angel’s thighs, Castiel moving his arms out of the way at precisely the wrong time, and Dean’s hands slide underneath them and stop only when they reach his waist.
Castiel blinks at Dean, a surprised look in his eyes at how close they suddenly are and Dean’s pretty sure he’s got a similar look on his own face too.
Dean knows he should move, but his hands are clamped to Castiel’s hips and he’s feeling strangely light headed as he stares into the angel’s probing blue eyes.
This is wrong. Dean shouldn’t be feeling like this about a man, he never has before, he certainly shouldn’t be feeling this way about an angel. But Dean thinks these feelings have been building for a long time, perhaps even from the first time Castiel looked at him, that faint smile in his eyes as he told Dean that he’d saved him from Hell, and Dean had repaid him with a knife through the chest, some thank you that was.
The regrettable memory seems enough to empower Dean to restrain himself and pull away, but he finds himself tethered, Castiel gripping his wrists, holding his hands in place.
“Do it,” Castiel says, his eyes focused on Dean’s with determination and conviction burning behind them.
“Do it,” he says again, but his voice sounds weaker this time, and something like desperation flits across his face. And it becomes clear to Dean what he’s being asked to do, what he’s being told to do, and Dean doesn’t need to be told a third time as every ounce of restraint whispers away into nothing.
“Dean, Ki-“ is all Castiel manages to say this time as Dean is pushing him back against the bed, fingers running through his hair just like he wanted to as he lowers Castiel’s head, lips burning as they crush together.
He pushes his way up the bed, knees tight between Castiel’s thighs, one foot still tangled in sheets and his back arched.
Castiel snakes his hands around Dean’s back, fingers digging into his shoulder blades, and just the feel of Castiel’s fingertips against Dean’s bare skin makes him shiver and groan.
Dean repays him in kind; his hand finding bare flesh beneath the angel’s shirt, and sliding up across his abdomen and making him moan a soft little sound into Dean’s mouth.
Dean can barely breathe as he slides his hands back down, Castiel seemingly sucking all the air out of his lungs, his chest heaving with each heavy breath he takes. He finds fabric, and there he fumbles with the belt buckle and button of Castiel’s slacks, only he has to break the kiss in order to see what he’s doing as he’s getting nowhere fast.
Castiel moans when he no longer feels Dean’s lips against his own and his head lolls back, one hand running up Dean’s back and scraping through his hair. He pulls Dean’s head close and presses his lips against his cheek, mouthing ‘Dean’ into skin, his voice both soft and rough.
Dean shivers. He never knew Castiel could sound so freakin’ sexy.
And success, the belt comes undone followed quickly by the button, the fly separating at the same time, and Dean swallows dryly at the sight of the angel’s pale-stripped boxers, something he never dreamed he’d see, well maybe a little…
Dean tilts his head up, lips grazing over Castiel’s stubble, his eyelids fluttering with the sensation, so unlike any lover he’s had before. The male body beneath his, hard and wider in all the right places, somehow fitting perfectly against his own like two pieces of a puzzle.
Dean grips Castiel’s hips tightly, pressing them down into the bed as he drags his lips up the angel’s neck where his teeth bite softly on his ear and Castiel turns his head into the touch, fingers digging into his scalp.
“So… long…” Castiel breaths, his voice rough, but so faint that Dean barely hears him, and his mind only vaguely comprehends the meaning.
Castiel pushes against Dean’s hold and rolls his hips up against him, one leg hooking over his thigh, their groins pressing tightly together and Dean’s vision nearly whites out with the pressure.
Dean’s hands work at Castiel’s tie now, almost feverishly, tugging it loose before biting roughly at his neck. His fingers then make their way down his shirt, button after button coming undone in Dean’s need to feel more skin against his own.
His hands roam, sculpting pale flesh from chest to hips and back again, Castiel writhing with each soft caress as Dean maps his form, committing it to memory.
“Dean…” Castiel moans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against Dean’s lips as he runs them up Castiel’s jaw before finding the angel’s again and kissing him briefly but deeply.
“Cas…” he whispers back as he slides his hands around him and down beneath the waistband of his slacks, and Castiel arches his back.
“Need… more, Dean… more…”
Dean shivers and complies. He slides his hands down further, pulling Castiel’s slacks and boxers down with them and cupping firmly at his ass.
Castiel grinds against him and Dean uses the motion to slide the restricting fabric lower.
“More…” Castiel rumbles, making Dean thrust forward in reaction and for a moment he sees only white.
One hand fumbles blindly between their bodies and ventures down, and Castiel groans deeply as Dean’s hand clasps tightly around his shaft.
This is new. So new, but unbelievably hot and Dean knows how it should go, what he should do. And he’s obviously doing it right too as Castiel is biting his bottom lip and humming a pleasing sound low in his throat, bucking up into Dean’s hand with each soft, then sharp caress in turn.
Castiel’s fingers dig into Dean’s shoulder blades as he pulls him down and back into a kiss that’s so needy it brings Dean right to the edge, and one uncontrollable trust brings him over it. And holy crap, Dean’s never felt it so good!
His skin feels on fire, a constant white noise of blood rushing in his ears, sparks flying behind his eyes that he’s having trouble keeping open, determined to see the angel climax. And he doesn’t have to wait long as Castiel thrusts up into his hand and moans, “Dean,” as he comes, his head lolling back, his eyelids fluttering.
He’s utterly breathless a moment, and Dean’s surprised, he didn’t think angel's needed to breath.
“So… so…”
“Good?” Dean offers and Castiel closes his eyes and smiles so broadly that Dean nearly comes all over again.
“Good…” he agrees in one long breath, and tilting his head he places a kiss on Dean’s nose. “So good…”
Dean laughs, he’s not really sure why, but he’s so fricken’ happy right now that the ‘why’ doesn’t really mater.
He flops down beside Castiel, laying on his side and rests his head on his arm. He drapes his free arm across Castiel’s chest, fingers finding the groves and tracing them softly. And Dean notes how dry Castiel’s skin is, not the least bit sweaty like Dean is, a simple reminded that this man is an angel and not human, but Dean doesn’t care, because this angel is all his.
~ Some time later…
“Good day off from hunting?” Sam asks as he fills his sandwich with unnecessary pieces of salad.
Dean pauses with his hand on the fridge handle, tugging subconsciously at his not-so-clean boxer shorts, thinking maybe he should have put a bit more on before leaving the bedroom.
“Yeah,” he says, keeping his back to Sam. He reaches inside and pulls out his left over pie and two beers; Sam wouldn’t think that weird, two beers for Dean is normal. “Relaxing,” he adds, a little lie, but then would he really tell his little brother he’s been having hot angel sex all morning and is headed back inside for round three? Not a chance!
Sam looks up from his sandwich as Dean walks past saying, “Dude? You’re going back to bed? It’s midday!”
Dean thinks fast, and putting on his cockiest grin he says, “Magic fingers and pie, Sammy.”
He looks at his other hand and raises it. “And beer.”
Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to preparing his lunch. “You’ll go blind, Dean,” he tells him, and Dean just laughs as he heads back to his room, where a certain naked angel is waiting for Dean to explain why combining angel and pie is such a brilliant idea…
Author: ravengrimm
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Genre: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2235
Warnings: SEX!!!! XD
Spoilers: None
Notes: Mah first fanfic sex scene, ahhhhh!! I'm so embarrassed, I hope it's okay :'')
Comments and critique are always appreciated :)
Previous Pieces: Good Night and Good Morning
Talk about awkward.
Dean waking up to find himself sprawled across an angel, his head resting on the his chest, his arm draped across him, and when the hell did Castiel end up under the covers?! Not helpful!
Dean doesn’t know how he’s supposed to react to this; he’s never been in a situation quite like this one before. He could pretend he’s not really awake and roll over, act like it didn’t happen… Shrug it off as no big thing… When really Dean feels way too hot and turned on by Castiel lying beneath his half naked body for it to be remotely classed as ‘no big thing’.
And Castiel isn’t exactly making things any easier, having turned to face Dean, their noses touching, and Dean so badly wants to kiss him. He could just tilt his chin up and their lips would meet and that would be that, and just when did Dean start wanting to kiss Castiel?!
To fight the urge Dean clenches his hands and finds Castiel’s wrist between his fingers. The warmth and skin makes Dean’s whole body shiver and he loosens his grip but his fingers linger, reluctant to loose that contact, his heart beating a little faster.
Castiel’s breath is warm against his lips as Dean’s eyelids flutter closed completely, only to open a fraction so that he can examine the fine stubble on the angel’s jaw, and Dean can imagine how amazing that would feel scraping across his lips.
Castiel moves his arm slightly and it startles Dean into pulling his hand away and his fingers ghost across Castiel’s thighs leaving Dean’s stomach in knots as he flops on his back, his eyes tight. And when he opens them again slightly, he stares at the ceiling, throat dry and notices out the corner of his eye that Castiel is doing the same, not questioning Dean’s weird behaviour, just laying there, silently staring at nothing, until…
“Dean?”
Dean starts. He isn’t prepared for speech this early in the morning, and Dean’s body is doing things that are really unhelpful given the circumstances, so it’s a moment before he feels ready to respond.
“Yeah?” he asks at last, a little shakily as he tries to hide the inappropriate thoughts floating around his mind. And pretending he’s not awake now would be ridiculous.
Castiel doesn’t answer, he just stares up at the yellowing ceiling thoughtfully, and the silence makes Dean curious so, yawning broadly, he sits up on his elbows to get a better look at the angel in his bed.
And that should be wrong in so many ways; an angel in Dean’s bed, but Dean really doesn’t care. Because looking down at Castiel now, that soft, thoughtful look in his eyes, his lips slightly parted, all Dean can think about is kissing him, about tangling his fingers in his hair, about running his hand all over that firm, masculine body and … Dean is leaning in!
…About to kiss him, his body pressing down against Castiel’s, their lips inches apart and Dean can’t breath.
He pulls back sharply, too sharply and he falls backwards off of the bed, and crashes to the floor in a heap of tangled bed sheets.
He curses loudly and finds Castiel leaning over the edge of the bed curiously.
“Are you okay, Dean?” he asks and Dean gathers the sheets around him.
“Fine,” he grumbles and shifts around trying to free his legs from the sheets so that he can stand.
When he looks up this time, Castiel is sitting on the edge of the bed watching Dean as though he wants to say something but can’t find the right words.
“Urm, yeah?” Dean prompts, pausing in his failing fight for freedom.
Castiel closes his eyes a moment, a frown knitting his brows together. “Would you…” he starts but bites his lip, and his frown deepens.
He opens his eyes again and sighs, his shoulders sagging more than usual.
“Cas, what’s up?” Dean asks, genuinely concerned that something is troubling Castiel, and anything that troubles an angel should surely trouble Dean as well.
He sits up straighter when Castiel opens his mouth to speak again, but all he comes out with is, “Do you-“ before closing it again, and turning his eyes down and away from Dean.
“Do I…?” Dean prompts for a second time, but Castiel just looks annoyed, frustrated maybe as he tents his fingers together, resting his elbows on his knees.
Dean waits but it doesn’t look as though Castiel is going to respond, so he attempts to crouch and manoeuvre himself back into Castiel’s line of sight. But that doesn’t go according to plan, as yanking his foot free of the sheets causes him to loose his balance and he falls forward.
Failing to brace himself properly on Castiel’s knees, his hands slide up the angel’s thighs, Castiel moving his arms out of the way at precisely the wrong time, and Dean’s hands slide underneath them and stop only when they reach his waist.
Castiel blinks at Dean, a surprised look in his eyes at how close they suddenly are and Dean’s pretty sure he’s got a similar look on his own face too.
Dean knows he should move, but his hands are clamped to Castiel’s hips and he’s feeling strangely light headed as he stares into the angel’s probing blue eyes.
This is wrong. Dean shouldn’t be feeling like this about a man, he never has before, he certainly shouldn’t be feeling this way about an angel. But Dean thinks these feelings have been building for a long time, perhaps even from the first time Castiel looked at him, that faint smile in his eyes as he told Dean that he’d saved him from Hell, and Dean had repaid him with a knife through the chest, some thank you that was.
The regrettable memory seems enough to empower Dean to restrain himself and pull away, but he finds himself tethered, Castiel gripping his wrists, holding his hands in place.
“Do it,” Castiel says, his eyes focused on Dean’s with determination and conviction burning behind them.
“Do it,” he says again, but his voice sounds weaker this time, and something like desperation flits across his face. And it becomes clear to Dean what he’s being asked to do, what he’s being told to do, and Dean doesn’t need to be told a third time as every ounce of restraint whispers away into nothing.
“Dean, Ki-“ is all Castiel manages to say this time as Dean is pushing him back against the bed, fingers running through his hair just like he wanted to as he lowers Castiel’s head, lips burning as they crush together.
He pushes his way up the bed, knees tight between Castiel’s thighs, one foot still tangled in sheets and his back arched.
Castiel snakes his hands around Dean’s back, fingers digging into his shoulder blades, and just the feel of Castiel’s fingertips against Dean’s bare skin makes him shiver and groan.
Dean repays him in kind; his hand finding bare flesh beneath the angel’s shirt, and sliding up across his abdomen and making him moan a soft little sound into Dean’s mouth.
Dean can barely breathe as he slides his hands back down, Castiel seemingly sucking all the air out of his lungs, his chest heaving with each heavy breath he takes. He finds fabric, and there he fumbles with the belt buckle and button of Castiel’s slacks, only he has to break the kiss in order to see what he’s doing as he’s getting nowhere fast.
Castiel moans when he no longer feels Dean’s lips against his own and his head lolls back, one hand running up Dean’s back and scraping through his hair. He pulls Dean’s head close and presses his lips against his cheek, mouthing ‘Dean’ into skin, his voice both soft and rough.
Dean shivers. He never knew Castiel could sound so freakin’ sexy.
And success, the belt comes undone followed quickly by the button, the fly separating at the same time, and Dean swallows dryly at the sight of the angel’s pale-stripped boxers, something he never dreamed he’d see, well maybe a little…
Dean tilts his head up, lips grazing over Castiel’s stubble, his eyelids fluttering with the sensation, so unlike any lover he’s had before. The male body beneath his, hard and wider in all the right places, somehow fitting perfectly against his own like two pieces of a puzzle.
Dean grips Castiel’s hips tightly, pressing them down into the bed as he drags his lips up the angel’s neck where his teeth bite softly on his ear and Castiel turns his head into the touch, fingers digging into his scalp.
“So… long…” Castiel breaths, his voice rough, but so faint that Dean barely hears him, and his mind only vaguely comprehends the meaning.
Castiel pushes against Dean’s hold and rolls his hips up against him, one leg hooking over his thigh, their groins pressing tightly together and Dean’s vision nearly whites out with the pressure.
Dean’s hands work at Castiel’s tie now, almost feverishly, tugging it loose before biting roughly at his neck. His fingers then make their way down his shirt, button after button coming undone in Dean’s need to feel more skin against his own.
His hands roam, sculpting pale flesh from chest to hips and back again, Castiel writhing with each soft caress as Dean maps his form, committing it to memory.
“Dean…” Castiel moans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against Dean’s lips as he runs them up Castiel’s jaw before finding the angel’s again and kissing him briefly but deeply.
“Cas…” he whispers back as he slides his hands around him and down beneath the waistband of his slacks, and Castiel arches his back.
“Need… more, Dean… more…”
Dean shivers and complies. He slides his hands down further, pulling Castiel’s slacks and boxers down with them and cupping firmly at his ass.
Castiel grinds against him and Dean uses the motion to slide the restricting fabric lower.
“More…” Castiel rumbles, making Dean thrust forward in reaction and for a moment he sees only white.
One hand fumbles blindly between their bodies and ventures down, and Castiel groans deeply as Dean’s hand clasps tightly around his shaft.
This is new. So new, but unbelievably hot and Dean knows how it should go, what he should do. And he’s obviously doing it right too as Castiel is biting his bottom lip and humming a pleasing sound low in his throat, bucking up into Dean’s hand with each soft, then sharp caress in turn.
Castiel’s fingers dig into Dean’s shoulder blades as he pulls him down and back into a kiss that’s so needy it brings Dean right to the edge, and one uncontrollable trust brings him over it. And holy crap, Dean’s never felt it so good!
His skin feels on fire, a constant white noise of blood rushing in his ears, sparks flying behind his eyes that he’s having trouble keeping open, determined to see the angel climax. And he doesn’t have to wait long as Castiel thrusts up into his hand and moans, “Dean,” as he comes, his head lolling back, his eyelids fluttering.
He’s utterly breathless a moment, and Dean’s surprised, he didn’t think angel's needed to breath.
“So… so…”
“Good?” Dean offers and Castiel closes his eyes and smiles so broadly that Dean nearly comes all over again.
“Good…” he agrees in one long breath, and tilting his head he places a kiss on Dean’s nose. “So good…”
Dean laughs, he’s not really sure why, but he’s so fricken’ happy right now that the ‘why’ doesn’t really mater.
He flops down beside Castiel, laying on his side and rests his head on his arm. He drapes his free arm across Castiel’s chest, fingers finding the groves and tracing them softly. And Dean notes how dry Castiel’s skin is, not the least bit sweaty like Dean is, a simple reminded that this man is an angel and not human, but Dean doesn’t care, because this angel is all his.
~ Some time later…
“Good day off from hunting?” Sam asks as he fills his sandwich with unnecessary pieces of salad.
Dean pauses with his hand on the fridge handle, tugging subconsciously at his not-so-clean boxer shorts, thinking maybe he should have put a bit more on before leaving the bedroom.
“Yeah,” he says, keeping his back to Sam. He reaches inside and pulls out his left over pie and two beers; Sam wouldn’t think that weird, two beers for Dean is normal. “Relaxing,” he adds, a little lie, but then would he really tell his little brother he’s been having hot angel sex all morning and is headed back inside for round three? Not a chance!
Sam looks up from his sandwich as Dean walks past saying, “Dude? You’re going back to bed? It’s midday!”
Dean thinks fast, and putting on his cockiest grin he says, “Magic fingers and pie, Sammy.”
He looks at his other hand and raises it. “And beer.”
Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to preparing his lunch. “You’ll go blind, Dean,” he tells him, and Dean just laughs as he heads back to his room, where a certain naked angel is waiting for Dean to explain why combining angel and pie is such a brilliant idea…