Touched by a Winchester (2/3)
Title: Touched by a Winchester (Touched 2/3)
Author: secondplatypus
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Masturbation, hand-jobs, dirty talk, language, gratuitous smut, and an eensy bit of d/s.
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 1033-ish
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all characters therein are the property of Eric Kripke and the WB/CW, I'm just borrowing them for my own nefarious purposes.
Summary: The sequel to Touched by a Vessel, in which Dean walks in on Castiel doing some downright un-angelic things on Dean's bed and takes matters into his own hands.
Author's Note: dedicated to cherazz22784, who has waited so patiently and kept this series in the back of my mind while I let Rounds of Kink, Casfest, and other pairings distract me from writing it. I wish I had something better to show for the delay, but this chapter didn't feel like coming together smoothly.
The last thing Dean expected to see when he unlocked the door, creeping in quietly so as not to disturb a more-than-likely sleeping Sam, was an angel lying on his bed jerking himself off with his trousers pulled down around his hips.
Until that moment, Dean had no idea that Castiel knew what masturbation was. He didn't know about that day in Southern Ohio, about Castiel re-playing the sight of Dean's sweat-slick body and his luscious mouth stretching around that beer bottle every time Castiel had felt the need to wrap his hand around his cock since. Dean didn't know what had compelled Castiel to start touching himself in their hotel room, and he didn't think to care - he just knew that the sight caused a dizzying amount of blood to rush to his dick.
Castiel's trenchcoat was open, framing his body as he arched against Dean's mattress; his eyes were closed, head thrown back, hair tangled even more than usual.
Dean's gaze was drawn down to the slender fingers working Castiel's hard length, and Dean would be damned if Castiel's cock wasn't every bit as beautiful as the rest of him.
He couldn't have torn his eyes away from the sight if his life depended on it. Castiel was usually so controlled and composed; seeing him lying there on Dean's bed, coming completely undone was one of the hottest things Dean had ever seen.
Castiel's hand started to move faster, body shaking as the color of his dick deepened. His eyes flew open, and he moaned Dean's name right before he noticed Dean standing there, watching him.
The angel flushed a brilliant shade of red and opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't think of anything to say. His blush intensified when he realized that, not only was Dean staring at him, his hand hadn't moved from his achingly hard cock. He moved his fingers away like his erection had suddenly burned him, yanking his pants up.
Dean's brain had no idea what to do, but his body was way ahead of him. He walked over to the bed, curled the fingers of one hand into Castiel's hair, and roughly parted the angel's lips with his tongue.
Castiel returned the kiss eagerly; what he lacked in experience, he made up for with enthusiasm. Dean would have expected Castiel to be slow and deliberate instead of the writhing, groaning creature digging blunt nails into the leather of Dean's jacket, stoic veneer shattered by the clash and slide of their mouths.
Castiel moaned against him, hands clutching at his arm as Dean tore open the front of Castiel's trousers, running his fingers over hot, silky skin, teasing him with soft strokes before wrapping his hand around Castiel's dick.
The response to the touch was immediate and eager, a thrust of hips driving lust-hardened flesh into Dean's grip.
Dean's lips curled into a conniving smile as he bent his head to suck a little bruise to the skin under Castiel's ear as his fingers tightened on Castiel's throbbing cock, working him faster and harder.
"You like my hand around your dick, Cas," he purred in a low tone thick with promise and sin.
The angel whimpered.
"What's that," Dean asked, slowing the rhythm of his hand. "I couldn't hear you. Maybe I should stop."
The scarlet blush returned to Castiel's cheeks as he groaned, sounding for all the world like Dean's words had broken something inside him, "No, don't. Please... Dean... please, please don't stop."
"As long as you keep begging like that, I won't."
Castiel took Dean's words as seriously as he took everything else, and the results nearly destroyed Dean's self-control. Every shift and twist of Dean's fingers drew a noise from Castiel's throat, ragged mewls, desperate growls, and wanton keens blending together into a superbly dirty, gorgeous whole.
Dean's own arousal strained against the rough denim at his crotch. Castiel was too good at following orders, too willing to please, and the images that flashed unbidden through his mind of that good little angel obeying commands to stretch lush, swollen lips around Dean's cock and suck him dry threatened to drive Dean to distraction.
As pleasure began to overtake him, one of Castiel's hands groped its way down Dean's body, greedily sliding over smooth, muscled lines and the gentle-sharp points of hipbones. Castiel gasped when he felt the bulge in Dean's pants, flattening his palm against it; when Castiel's hand began to move, bold strokes creating delicious friction, Dean's mind began to unravel. It was obvious that Castiel didn't really know what he was doing, but the bottom line was that Dean didn't give a fuck; he was far too excited to begin with, in serious danger of coming in his pants before Castiel laid a finger on him.
He felt Castiel's body stiffen against him. The angel was incoherent, a mixture of moans and gorgeous blasphemy and Dean's name that Dean's dick couldn't help but respond to, making Dean so hard he could barely stand it.
When Castiel came, the noise he made was practically a scream. The pressure of his hand against the taut fabric at the juncture of Dean's legs increased, til he was rubbing Dean off through his jeans so hard it almost hurt, but the rough treatment was exactly what Dean needed.
Dean felt the first pulses of his rising orgasm course through him. He closed his eyes, hearing Castiel's call his name right before...
Dean was shaken awake by Castiel, the angel's face far too close to his, as per always.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I was under the impression you were having another of your nightmares - you were thrashing and crying out as though you were in pain."
The first impulse that flashed through Dean's sleep and libido-addled brain was to grab Castiel and kiss him within an inch of his existence. Dean swallowed hard, took a few deep breaths to steady himself, and met the concern-darkened eyes that were staring so intently into his. "Thanks, Cas", Dean said, shifting to try and hide his erection beneath the thin sheet, cursing those increasingly frequent dreams and that damn space-invading angel.
Author: secondplatypus
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Masturbation, hand-jobs, dirty talk, language, gratuitous smut, and an eensy bit of d/s.
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 1033-ish
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all characters therein are the property of Eric Kripke and the WB/CW, I'm just borrowing them for my own nefarious purposes.
Summary: The sequel to Touched by a Vessel, in which Dean walks in on Castiel doing some downright un-angelic things on Dean's bed and takes matters into his own hands.
Author's Note: dedicated to cherazz22784, who has waited so patiently and kept this series in the back of my mind while I let Rounds of Kink, Casfest, and other pairings distract me from writing it. I wish I had something better to show for the delay, but this chapter didn't feel like coming together smoothly.
The last thing Dean expected to see when he unlocked the door, creeping in quietly so as not to disturb a more-than-likely sleeping Sam, was an angel lying on his bed jerking himself off with his trousers pulled down around his hips.
Until that moment, Dean had no idea that Castiel knew what masturbation was. He didn't know about that day in Southern Ohio, about Castiel re-playing the sight of Dean's sweat-slick body and his luscious mouth stretching around that beer bottle every time Castiel had felt the need to wrap his hand around his cock since. Dean didn't know what had compelled Castiel to start touching himself in their hotel room, and he didn't think to care - he just knew that the sight caused a dizzying amount of blood to rush to his dick.
Castiel's trenchcoat was open, framing his body as he arched against Dean's mattress; his eyes were closed, head thrown back, hair tangled even more than usual.
Dean's gaze was drawn down to the slender fingers working Castiel's hard length, and Dean would be damned if Castiel's cock wasn't every bit as beautiful as the rest of him.
He couldn't have torn his eyes away from the sight if his life depended on it. Castiel was usually so controlled and composed; seeing him lying there on Dean's bed, coming completely undone was one of the hottest things Dean had ever seen.
Castiel's hand started to move faster, body shaking as the color of his dick deepened. His eyes flew open, and he moaned Dean's name right before he noticed Dean standing there, watching him.
The angel flushed a brilliant shade of red and opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't think of anything to say. His blush intensified when he realized that, not only was Dean staring at him, his hand hadn't moved from his achingly hard cock. He moved his fingers away like his erection had suddenly burned him, yanking his pants up.
Dean's brain had no idea what to do, but his body was way ahead of him. He walked over to the bed, curled the fingers of one hand into Castiel's hair, and roughly parted the angel's lips with his tongue.
Castiel returned the kiss eagerly; what he lacked in experience, he made up for with enthusiasm. Dean would have expected Castiel to be slow and deliberate instead of the writhing, groaning creature digging blunt nails into the leather of Dean's jacket, stoic veneer shattered by the clash and slide of their mouths.
Castiel moaned against him, hands clutching at his arm as Dean tore open the front of Castiel's trousers, running his fingers over hot, silky skin, teasing him with soft strokes before wrapping his hand around Castiel's dick.
The response to the touch was immediate and eager, a thrust of hips driving lust-hardened flesh into Dean's grip.
Dean's lips curled into a conniving smile as he bent his head to suck a little bruise to the skin under Castiel's ear as his fingers tightened on Castiel's throbbing cock, working him faster and harder.
"You like my hand around your dick, Cas," he purred in a low tone thick with promise and sin.
The angel whimpered.
"What's that," Dean asked, slowing the rhythm of his hand. "I couldn't hear you. Maybe I should stop."
The scarlet blush returned to Castiel's cheeks as he groaned, sounding for all the world like Dean's words had broken something inside him, "No, don't. Please... Dean... please, please don't stop."
"As long as you keep begging like that, I won't."
Castiel took Dean's words as seriously as he took everything else, and the results nearly destroyed Dean's self-control. Every shift and twist of Dean's fingers drew a noise from Castiel's throat, ragged mewls, desperate growls, and wanton keens blending together into a superbly dirty, gorgeous whole.
Dean's own arousal strained against the rough denim at his crotch. Castiel was too good at following orders, too willing to please, and the images that flashed unbidden through his mind of that good little angel obeying commands to stretch lush, swollen lips around Dean's cock and suck him dry threatened to drive Dean to distraction.
As pleasure began to overtake him, one of Castiel's hands groped its way down Dean's body, greedily sliding over smooth, muscled lines and the gentle-sharp points of hipbones. Castiel gasped when he felt the bulge in Dean's pants, flattening his palm against it; when Castiel's hand began to move, bold strokes creating delicious friction, Dean's mind began to unravel. It was obvious that Castiel didn't really know what he was doing, but the bottom line was that Dean didn't give a fuck; he was far too excited to begin with, in serious danger of coming in his pants before Castiel laid a finger on him.
He felt Castiel's body stiffen against him. The angel was incoherent, a mixture of moans and gorgeous blasphemy and Dean's name that Dean's dick couldn't help but respond to, making Dean so hard he could barely stand it.
When Castiel came, the noise he made was practically a scream. The pressure of his hand against the taut fabric at the juncture of Dean's legs increased, til he was rubbing Dean off through his jeans so hard it almost hurt, but the rough treatment was exactly what Dean needed.
Dean felt the first pulses of his rising orgasm course through him. He closed his eyes, hearing Castiel's call his name right before...
Dean was shaken awake by Castiel, the angel's face far too close to his, as per always.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I was under the impression you were having another of your nightmares - you were thrashing and crying out as though you were in pain."
The first impulse that flashed through Dean's sleep and libido-addled brain was to grab Castiel and kiss him within an inch of his existence. Dean swallowed hard, took a few deep breaths to steady himself, and met the concern-darkened eyes that were staring so intently into his. "Thanks, Cas", Dean said, shifting to try and hide his erection beneath the thin sheet, cursing those increasingly frequent dreams and that damn space-invading angel.