Before the Showdown

[winchester_lost]

It was the night before. Tomorrow they were moving out, and they were going to take the Colt and try to kill Lucifer. Kill Sam. He still didn't like the thought. He understood that in this time Sam was Lucifer's vessel, and he liked to think that he'd done everything he could to find another solution

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[winchester_lost]

Eight or nine women. He watched as Cas emptied his glass, and he swallowed at the way that the man said he knew how to have a good time. He still was having trouble wrapping his head around Cas as an orgy-loving, drunken stoner. A lovably scruffy one whose blue eyes were all lust and suggestion, and the way he crawled over to him had Dean struggling to hold onto coherent thought.

When Cas grabbed his hips, mouthing against his erection, he decided coherent thought was highly over-rated anyway. His head falling back a little as Cas nuzzled into his cock, mouth open, hot breath teasing against flesh through the fabric of his pants. Cas' hands grabbing against his ass, squeezing. Dean's eyes were wide, lips parted, his breath coming fast as his hands touched against Cas' shoulders.

He was shocked, couldn't help it. It was just hard to wrap his mind around having Cas like this. It had only been days when he'd seen him all awkward and strange about it, and to be confronted with the delicious opposite spun his head for a loop. One he was rather enjoying, admittedly. Enough so that he didn't catch it when Cas moved, instead gasping as he was tackled down into the pile of pillows that Cas had been reclining on when he'd first walked in.

Cas was straddling his hips before he quite had his bearings. Their lips pressing together, and Dean pressed back, hard, intense, wanted him even as he tried to wrestle his hands away from the man's grip. This was amazing. He jerked his hips, arching up into Cas' body above him. Dean was a hedonist, pleasure was his drug before any other. He tried to keep his hands away from Cas long enough for him to squirm out of his coat.

And then with a quirk of an eyebrow, gleam of hot wanton lust in his eyes, he shifted his weight, quickly trying to flip their positions and pin Cas beneath him.

[seekthesilence]

He got him down, caught his wrists and kissed him hard. Dean felt good, solid beneath his body, different from the women earlier. That had been all soft touch, a daze of foreplay and lazy pleasure. This was different, it was hot and immediate and joyous. Dean was moving, jerking his hips, he was fighting it even though he wanted it.

Realizing that Dean was trying to get out of his coat, he let go of his wrists, hands moving to his face to feel the shape, to caress his jaw, fingertips teasing over his neck. Then Dean was shifting, trying to flip them, and Cas grabbed hold of Dean's shirt, trying desperately not to fall off, almost as if he were riding Dean like an untamed horse.

"Really?" he breathed as he leaned in again, wrestling Dean's hands down to the pillows as his lips came to brush his neck. "You want to be on top? I don't buy it," he let his teeth drag down along Dean's neck slowly, enjoying the shuddering reaction he felt in Dean as he did so.

"…because I know you, Dean. I know what you want, even though you don't think you've told me yet, because you have already told me…" he shifted slowly, grinding himself against Dean as he breathed, "You love being fucked… and you want to be spanked, but you haven't told anyone…"