(no subject)
Restless
This is in the same 'verse as Backlash Read this first or this isn't going to make sense.
Thanks to bauble for her help!
As they started to settle down for the night on surprisingly decent motel beds, Sam said, "Dean?"
"What, Sam?"
Sam made a disapproving face at him; Dean could just see in the glow of the television. "Are you ever gonna call Castiel and talk to him?"
"That's none of your business, Sam," Dean said, surfing channels without seeing what was on.
"You were a total jerk to him."
"I said that it's none of your business." Dean turned off the television, plunging them into darkness. Sam rolled over.
Dean couldn't sleep. Every time that he shut his eyes he saw Castiel looking at him with that look, hurt and disappointed and like Dean could make it better but wouldn't. He knew he'd hurt Castiel. But did Cas want him to say sorry?
He had been cruel the first time, he knew that, but he wasn't sorry about the sex itself, not either time. It'd been great, and he thought Cas had enjoyed it as much as he had. He'd been the one to come back to do it again, despite what had happened the first time].
“I did it for you. Just like everything else. All for you.”
Holy crap. Had Cas not wanted to do it the first time? Had he just gone along with it to make Dean happy? The idea that he'd pushed Cas into doing it was horrifying but a little out there. If Cas hadn't liked it, why would he have come back? Payback? If that was Castiel's idea of payback, Dean was messing with him more often.
But, then what had happened? Cas had just up and left after giving him that damn look. Did Castiel really care so much?
“I’m even a vehicle for your lust. And you can’t even-”
Okay. Maybe he had used Cas for sex and just left him lying around once he was done. Damn, he'd never done that to a woman he'd picked up;; he'd always tried to treat women with some sort of respect, or charm, at the very least.
And he'd used his friend for sex and just left him on the ground. And when Castiel had come back, Dean hurt him again rather than owning up to it.
He thought of the little punch to his stomach every time Cas left, the quiet simmering of happiness when he appeared that he tried to suppress. He really was a pathetic motherfucker, not even strong enough to admit these things to Castiel.
Instead he'd used him, hurt him, and hadn't even been able to fucking see it until now. How could he have done that? Oh, wait, he'd tortured souls for a decade, using and hurting a friend was child's play for someone like him.
Castiel appeared before Dean's eyes; the same expression on his face, but this time, he was kneeling on the floor, hands on Dean's thighs. "Fuck," Dean whispered. "Can't even think of him without thinking about fucking him. What the hell is wrong with me?" Everything, apparently. Why was he even fucking surprised anymore?
In his mind's eye, Castiel was kissing him, and Dean was letting him lick his mouth open. Dean could feel himself getting hard; he let his hand slide to his crotch and press down, hissing at the pressure. Dean felt guilty about it, using Cas when he wasn't even there, but it was too late now.
Maybe jerking off would help him sleep if he thought about someone else. He reached into the pool of people (mostly women, but there were men in there too) the sea of mouths wrapped around his dick, tightness that he'd fucked that were echoed by his hand wrapped around himself. He remembered long hair and breasts pressed against him, being gripped by strong arms-no, that was too much like Cas-girls, he had to think about girls-but his dick wasn't interested in girls, it wanted Cas.
He wanted Cas, Cas licking him open and fucking him deep, Cas sucking his cock. He wanted Cas kissing him so deep that he shuddered under it. Dean stroked faster, panting. He needed, he couldn't help it, "Oh, God, Cas." He spurted over his hand, tension easing out with his orgasm as he relaxed into the bed.
But it wasn't enough. It was empty. He wanted Cas to there, to lay down next to him...and the chances of that happening now were pretty much zero. What he'd done to Cas wasn't something that led to kisses and pillow talk. But maybe he could get back what they had, if he apologized, if he showed regret. Cas deserved at least that much from him.
This is in the same 'verse as Backlash Read this first or this isn't going to make sense.
Thanks to bauble for her help!
As they started to settle down for the night on surprisingly decent motel beds, Sam said, "Dean?"
"What, Sam?"
Sam made a disapproving face at him; Dean could just see in the glow of the television. "Are you ever gonna call Castiel and talk to him?"
"That's none of your business, Sam," Dean said, surfing channels without seeing what was on.
"You were a total jerk to him."
"I said that it's none of your business." Dean turned off the television, plunging them into darkness. Sam rolled over.
Dean couldn't sleep. Every time that he shut his eyes he saw Castiel looking at him with that look, hurt and disappointed and like Dean could make it better but wouldn't. He knew he'd hurt Castiel. But did Cas want him to say sorry?
He had been cruel the first time, he knew that, but he wasn't sorry about the sex itself, not either time. It'd been great, and he thought Cas had enjoyed it as much as he had. He'd been the one to come back to do it again, despite what had happened the first time].
“I did it for you. Just like everything else. All for you.”
Holy crap. Had Cas not wanted to do it the first time? Had he just gone along with it to make Dean happy? The idea that he'd pushed Cas into doing it was horrifying but a little out there. If Cas hadn't liked it, why would he have come back? Payback? If that was Castiel's idea of payback, Dean was messing with him more often.
But, then what had happened? Cas had just up and left after giving him that damn look. Did Castiel really care so much?
“I’m even a vehicle for your lust. And you can’t even-”
Okay. Maybe he had used Cas for sex and just left him lying around once he was done. Damn, he'd never done that to a woman he'd picked up;; he'd always tried to treat women with some sort of respect, or charm, at the very least.
And he'd used his friend for sex and just left him on the ground. And when Castiel had come back, Dean hurt him again rather than owning up to it.
He thought of the little punch to his stomach every time Cas left, the quiet simmering of happiness when he appeared that he tried to suppress. He really was a pathetic motherfucker, not even strong enough to admit these things to Castiel.
Instead he'd used him, hurt him, and hadn't even been able to fucking see it until now. How could he have done that? Oh, wait, he'd tortured souls for a decade, using and hurting a friend was child's play for someone like him.
Castiel appeared before Dean's eyes; the same expression on his face, but this time, he was kneeling on the floor, hands on Dean's thighs. "Fuck," Dean whispered. "Can't even think of him without thinking about fucking him. What the hell is wrong with me?" Everything, apparently. Why was he even fucking surprised anymore?
In his mind's eye, Castiel was kissing him, and Dean was letting him lick his mouth open. Dean could feel himself getting hard; he let his hand slide to his crotch and press down, hissing at the pressure. Dean felt guilty about it, using Cas when he wasn't even there, but it was too late now.
Maybe jerking off would help him sleep if he thought about someone else. He reached into the pool of people (mostly women, but there were men in there too) the sea of mouths wrapped around his dick, tightness that he'd fucked that were echoed by his hand wrapped around himself. He remembered long hair and breasts pressed against him, being gripped by strong arms-no, that was too much like Cas-girls, he had to think about girls-but his dick wasn't interested in girls, it wanted Cas.
He wanted Cas, Cas licking him open and fucking him deep, Cas sucking his cock. He wanted Cas kissing him so deep that he shuddered under it. Dean stroked faster, panting. He needed, he couldn't help it, "Oh, God, Cas." He spurted over his hand, tension easing out with his orgasm as he relaxed into the bed.
But it wasn't enough. It was empty. He wanted Cas to there, to lay down next to him...and the chances of that happening now were pretty much zero. What he'd done to Cas wasn't something that led to kisses and pillow talk. But maybe he could get back what they had, if he apologized, if he showed regret. Cas deserved at least that much from him.