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]

It was good. It was almost too good. It was as if Cas knew him better than anyone ever had, knew just how he liked it, the way his cheeks hollowed and tongue slid against the vein as he slid back up, fingers curled around the base. His heart was pounding, his breath coming fast, and Cas had hardly even started. It was hard to keep focused, to keep watching him, when it was so good. His toes curling, his body trembling as Cas clearly abused the fact that he knew what Dean liked, knew exactly how he liked this. And then Cas was sliding down again, and Dean moaned as fingers moved between his thighs, touching his balls, and then further. Just a threat, a hint of suggestion at touching his entrance that didn't quite materialize.

Dean cried out wordlessly, his hips jerking against Cas' hands, straining for more, squirming, trying to press back against teasing fingertips. The man knew him too well, knew his reactions, knew what he liked, the degree of which was only starting to become clear as Dean lost all ability to think as Cas teased his reactions. He was helpless under the feel of his mouth, the way his hands touched and teased. His nails digging into his wrists as he fought to keep his hands in place. His body shaking as he moaned and gasped against the pleasure; Dean was never the quiet sort.

[seekthesilence]

As much as he wanted to keep this up and feel Dean's climax between his lips, to taste it and watch, hands on his hips and thighs as he trembled and shook apart, he wanted to be inside him just as much. Perhaps more, because he knew that as loud as Dean was like this, as full of shaking motion, he was louder and more squirmy when he was inside him. Dean didn't just love to be fucked, he craved it, needed it. When it had been too long, he could tell, could feel it in the way his hips moved to try and take what he wanted, trying to tempt fingers to press inside him. He could hear it in the way he cried out. It had just been a few days, according to Dean, but he could tell, he could feel that he was desperate to lose himself in it.

No longer able to make preparations unnecessary, he had to plan ahead, to keep things that he'd need at hand. He might not normally have had a bottle of lube stashed in his pile of pillows, but he'd planned to spend some time jerking off and drinking, and so he'd had it here. He found it now, spreading some over his fingers a little messily, and then caressed his fingers down, behind his balls and over his entrance slowly. He pulled back, off of Dean's cock with an obscene, wet sound, and grasped it in his free hand as he applied pressure with one slick finger.

"I should let you decide if you want me to keep sucking your cock, or if you'd like to be fucked…" he mused aloud, lips shining and wet with saliva. He grinned, licking his lip and catching it between his teeth as he glanced down at Dean's cock in his hand and moved down again, letting his lips drag lazily over the head, enjoying the way the silky smooth skin felt on his lips.

"I'm not going to, though…" he murmured, pressing kisses along the length, slowly, along the underside, until he was nuzzling against his body, tongue teasing at his balls as his finger made its way inside his body, pressing steadily deeper. He moved again, so he could see him. "I'm going to choose for you," he said with a devious grin.