Re: Prompt: Dean/Gabriel, dirty talk (3.5/4)
anonymous
November 3 2011, 16:54:51 UTC
Somehow, Dean couldn’t help thinking in a sort of panicky way through the hand curved hard around his collarbone, they’d gotten way off track. Or maybe Gabriel just had a thing for Dean and walls. Or trees. Or whatever.
Gabriel’s voice was a low rumble through his bones, just through that one point of contact. And somehow Dean always forgot just how terrifying the archangel could be, just how fucking vast. “He gave up his family for you, his faith, his heart, his life, his essence, and you gave him flesh.”
Gabriel’s fingers ran up the inside of his thigh, not gentle, pressing into the seam of the denim. They skimmed just by that spot and lingered, a breath short of too-hot pressure. Dean tried to keep his voice from shaking. “And what the hell does that have to do with - with grabbing at me, Gabriel? Trying to prove some kind of a point? Cause that isn’t anything we haven’t done before.”
“Yeah?” Gabriel breathed into his ear. “Then go ahead and tell me you’re completely down with this. Letting me do this to you. Anything. Open you up. Take you apart. Taking you for mine, all of you, all at once, and not a thing, not a fucking thing you can do about it once I’m there.”
Dean’s breath scraped raw inside his throat. “Really... really not the same thing at all, Gabriel.”
Gabriel chuckled, harsh and low and dirty, into the soft skin of Dean’s throat. “Isn’t it? You got any idea what you’re asking him, kid?”
And Dean tipped back his head, hit it hard against the trunk of the tree, hissed then growled, “So just fucking tell me already.”
Gabriel bit down, hard. Dean spat out one fierce, formless syllable very far from “no,” and grabbed at the angel’s hair and jacket, bunching them up into twisted desperate handholds as Gabriel shoved his way between Dean’s knees. Then there was the wicked sweet curve of his mouth against Dean’s ear. There was the shivering touch of cool air over Dean’s sides, and arms stronger than him taking his weight.
There was the shocking warmth of Gabriel’s hand curling over Dean’s bare stomach for just a moment, reverent, before he flicked the top button on the jeans below.
“Tell me, Dean,” all low and velvet-rough.
Dean’s fingers crooked in warm, messy hair, trying to drag Gabriel’s mouth just a little bit up and a little across, tugging for some little bit of control against an immovable statue whose heart was thudding against his breastbone. His own voice was wrecked already, but it always went quick. “Tell you what, you goddamn teasing rat-bastard?”
The hot press of Gabriel’s mouth didn’t even waver, stirring the fine hairs just above Dean’s ear as he breathed, “Tell me yes. Tell me you want this even if it fucking terrifies you.” One finger curled around Dean’s belt, tugging his jeans down over his hips. “Tell me you’re a sucker for losing the reins.”
Dean groaned “... the hell, Gabriel?”, and lost the rest on a gasp as fingers flickered over that spot on the inside of his thigh and they tumbled to the autumn-damp ground in a rush.
Gabriel’s voice was a low rumble through his bones, just through that one point of contact. And somehow Dean always forgot just how terrifying the archangel could be, just how fucking vast. “He gave up his family for you, his faith, his heart, his life, his essence, and you gave him flesh.”
Gabriel’s fingers ran up the inside of his thigh, not gentle, pressing into the seam of the denim. They skimmed just by that spot and lingered, a breath short of too-hot pressure. Dean tried to keep his voice from shaking. “And what the hell does that have to do with - with grabbing at me, Gabriel? Trying to prove some kind of a point? Cause that isn’t anything we haven’t done before.”
“Yeah?” Gabriel breathed into his ear. “Then go ahead and tell me you’re completely down with this. Letting me do this to you. Anything. Open you up. Take you apart. Taking you for mine, all of you, all at once, and not a thing, not a fucking thing you can do about it once I’m there.”
Dean’s breath scraped raw inside his throat. “Really... really not the same thing at all, Gabriel.”
Gabriel chuckled, harsh and low and dirty, into the soft skin of Dean’s throat. “Isn’t it? You got any idea what you’re asking him, kid?”
And Dean tipped back his head, hit it hard against the trunk of the tree, hissed then growled, “So just fucking tell me already.”
Gabriel bit down, hard. Dean spat out one fierce, formless syllable very far from “no,” and grabbed at the angel’s hair and jacket, bunching them up into twisted desperate handholds as Gabriel shoved his way between Dean’s knees. Then there was the wicked sweet curve of his mouth against Dean’s ear. There was the shivering touch of cool air over Dean’s sides, and arms stronger than him taking his weight.
There was the shocking warmth of Gabriel’s hand curling over Dean’s bare stomach for just a moment, reverent, before he flicked the top button on the jeans below.
“Tell me, Dean,” all low and velvet-rough.
Dean’s fingers crooked in warm, messy hair, trying to drag Gabriel’s mouth just a little bit up and a little across, tugging for some little bit of control against an immovable statue whose heart was thudding against his breastbone. His own voice was wrecked already, but it always went quick. “Tell you what, you goddamn teasing rat-bastard?”
The hot press of Gabriel’s mouth didn’t even waver, stirring the fine hairs just above Dean’s ear as he breathed, “Tell me yes. Tell me you want this even if it fucking terrifies you.” One finger curled around Dean’s belt, tugging his jeans down over his hips. “Tell me you’re a sucker for losing the reins.”
Dean groaned “... the hell, Gabriel?”, and lost the rest on a gasp as fingers flickered over that spot on the inside of his thigh and they tumbled to the autumn-damp ground in a rush.
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