MMoM Day 2: Vox, Supernatural, Dean/Castiel
What? It's only 4 hours late... ::grin::
Title: Vox
Author: Claire
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,522
Summary: The front seats of the Impala aren't perfect for this...
Notes: Written for Day 2 of mmom. Called 'Vox' because that was the Sarah McLachlan song I was listening to all the way through writing this ::grin::
It's dark when Dean leaves the motel room, breath misting in the winter air. Sam's still sleeping, soft snores coming from the bed he claimed. There's part of Dean that's continually half-surprised to see Sam there when he wakes, too used to waking to find an empty bed and Sam disappeared off to that somewhere they try not to talk about any more.
The Impala's sitting at the far end of the parking lot, flickering neon sign declaring 'VAC NC ES' flashing red on her bodywork and illuminating the face of the figure leaning against her hood.
Dean lets out a soft breath when he sees Castiel, something inside him unclenching as the angel looks at him. Because even though Cas has never not been there when Dean needs him, Dean's waiting for the day when there's no answer when he calls.
Shivering slightly as he closes the distance between them, Dean pulls his jacket further around himself, even though it does fuck all to stave off the bite that's in the air.
"You called?" There's a hint of questioning in Castiel's words, even though he knows what Dean wants, he has to. He wouldn't have waited out here if he didn't; would have just appeared in the motel room, not caring if Sam saw him.
"Not here--" Dean replies, sliding into the Impala, the soft leather of her seats moulding to his body without thought.
Cas is already in the passenger seat by the time Dean closes the door and Dean knows that if it was Sam sitting there then there'd already be a dozen questions in the air. What are you doing? Where are we going? Who? Why? What? So he's grateful for the quiet coming from Castiel. But then, it was never going to be Sam, not for this.
There's almost silence as they drive, the radio on but barely loud enough to hear, as the motel fades in the rear view mirror and the Impala speeds along the road. Dean's not sure what he's looking for until he sees it, swerving off the road to follow the dirt track to a hill clearing overlooking some of the town below them. On any other night, he thinks, there would be other cars here, teenagers looking to get laid by their dates or guys banging the secretary. But tonight, it's silent, and Dean's kinda grateful.
He's been half-hard since he left the motel, his own hand around his cock doing nothing for him, and the soft light on his phone taunting him until he finally caved, finally texted Castiel with nothing more than a town and a motel name and a hope that this wasn't the time the angel finally decided not to show.
"I'll always be here, Dean." Castiel's voice is low, careful and Dean thinks there may be more words, but he moves before Cas can speak. The Stay outta my head is a quiet murmur before he presses his lips to Cas's and swallows whatever else he's about to say.
The front seats of the Impala aren't perfect for this, but they worked out most of the difficulties too many towns ago to count. The stick shift's still digging into Dean's side, but that's more than made up for by the way Castiel's fingers are at his jeans, popping open buttons and sliding inside to wrap around Dean's dick and releasing it from the confines of cotton and denim.
"Cas--"
Dean tears his mouth away from Castiel's, the fingers of one hand running through Cas's hair as he tilts his head to the side to lay kisses along Cas's throat, and the other going to his trousers, palm pressing against the hardness straining behind the fabric.
Castiel groans as he arches into Dean's touch.
"Dean, please--"
And this is what Dean needs to hear. Castiel, undone and wanting. Undone and needing. He tugs at Cas's trousers.
"Take them off."
Because Dean can't do what he wants to do when they're in the way. Can't touch, can't feel, can't bury himself so far into Castiel he'll always be there.
Castiel pauses before he moves, hips lifting and hands pushing at his trousers, sliding them down over his thighs.
There's rustling beside him as Dean pushes the seat back as far as it'll go, and then a beat, and twin thumps as Castiel's shoes hit the floor of the Impala. He fishes into his jeans pocket for the lube he put there before he left the motel room, twisting the cap off and dropping it to the floor, as he squeezes some onto his fingers, slicking his cock with touches that are too light and not enough and not Cas.
"Dean--"
His name is the only warning Dean gets before Castiel moves, graceful and lithe as he straddles Dean's legs, trousers and coat off, with his shirt half open and tie still around his neck. Dean shimmies down the seat slightly as he reaches between Cas's legs, pressing slippery fingers inside the angel as Castiel rubs his cock against Dean's stomach, smearing his t-shirt with pre-come.
"Now--" Cas growls, wrapping a hand around Dean's dick as he lowers himself down. And Dean's barely got his fingers out of Cas's body before the angel's against his cock, pressing down and taking Dean inside in one.
"Fuck--" Because there's not enough lube and not enough prep and Castiel is fucking tight as Dean sinks inside, skin catching on skin in a way that would be painful if it wasn't so perfect.
Castiel stills once Dean is fully in, eyes closed and head back and body rippling around Dean's cock.
Dean wants him to move, needs him to move. He'd beg if he could, but the words won't seem to come. Yes and please and Cas all stuck in his throat behind something that can't decide if it's shame or desire. He runs a hand up Castiel's arm, fingers moving over starched white cotton before resting on Cas's neck, stolen pulse beating under Dean's thumb.
Castiel's eyes are open now, wide and blown and looking at Dean. He swallows heavily and Dean can feel the movement under his palm. Can feel the breath running through him as Castiel shifts slightly, one hand gripping the back on the seat and the other on Dean's shoulder, fingers moving under the arm of his tee until Cas's hand is on the brand that marks Dean as his, squeezing both his fingers around Dean's shoulder and his ass around Dean's cock as he leans down and nips at Dean's lower lip with his teeth.
"Move--"
The word comes out part way between order and plea, and either way Dean can't help but obey. His free hand reaching to grip Castiel's hip, Dean thrusts up as Cas pushes down. It's not exactly co-ordinated and it's not exactly graceful, but it's as close as they're going to get for two grown men fucking in the front seat of a car.
And Dean thinks it isn't going to last. He's been too on edge, too close for too long, and Castiel is too tight, too hot, too there for Dean to be able to hold out. He moves his hand from Cas's throat to wrap around the angel's cock, fingers swiping through pre-come as Dean jacks him.
"Dean--"
Cas's voice is wrecked, laced with want and sin, and it breaks the dam in Dean's throat. Yes and fuck and god and Cas-- all spilling out of him in a litany of need.
Castiel is shuddering above him, shaking with each thrust of Dean's cock into his body. The please, Dean, oh god, please-- barely audible above the sounds of their breath, as Cas's grip on Dean's shoulder tightens.
Dean can feel the pleasure running through him, pooling in his belly, heady and volatile. He's too close to stop, couldn't even if he wanted to. His hand moves quicker over Castiel's flesh as his fingertips dig into the angel's hip, sharp and sudden, as Castiel stills above him, eyes closed and cock pulsing in Dean's grip as he comes.
It only takes a couple of thrusts for Dean to follow him, emptying himself into Castiel's still-shaking body as the soft Dean-- falls from Cas's lips.
Castiel's eyes stay closed as Dean moves his hand from his hip, ignoring the red mark that's left behind, partner to the permanent one Cas gave him when Dean was remade from the inside out. He moves his hand to card his fingers through Castiel's sweat-damp hair, feeling tiny tremors running through Cas's body.
"Cas, we should--" Get apart, get cleaned up, get back to the motel. There are a dozen options running through Dean's mind, but he finds himself unwilling to voice them. Finds himself unwilling to move, wanting to stay connected to Castiel.
"Stay--" Castiel offers, their faces so close they're sharing the same breath. "We should stay. For a little while longer."
And Dean can't disagree, so he rests his forehead against Cas's and lets the silence carry him.
Title: Vox
Author: Claire
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,522
Summary: The front seats of the Impala aren't perfect for this...
Notes: Written for Day 2 of mmom. Called 'Vox' because that was the Sarah McLachlan song I was listening to all the way through writing this ::grin::
It's dark when Dean leaves the motel room, breath misting in the winter air. Sam's still sleeping, soft snores coming from the bed he claimed. There's part of Dean that's continually half-surprised to see Sam there when he wakes, too used to waking to find an empty bed and Sam disappeared off to that somewhere they try not to talk about any more.
The Impala's sitting at the far end of the parking lot, flickering neon sign declaring 'VAC NC ES' flashing red on her bodywork and illuminating the face of the figure leaning against her hood.
Dean lets out a soft breath when he sees Castiel, something inside him unclenching as the angel looks at him. Because even though Cas has never not been there when Dean needs him, Dean's waiting for the day when there's no answer when he calls.
Shivering slightly as he closes the distance between them, Dean pulls his jacket further around himself, even though it does fuck all to stave off the bite that's in the air.
"You called?" There's a hint of questioning in Castiel's words, even though he knows what Dean wants, he has to. He wouldn't have waited out here if he didn't; would have just appeared in the motel room, not caring if Sam saw him.
"Not here--" Dean replies, sliding into the Impala, the soft leather of her seats moulding to his body without thought.
Cas is already in the passenger seat by the time Dean closes the door and Dean knows that if it was Sam sitting there then there'd already be a dozen questions in the air. What are you doing? Where are we going? Who? Why? What? So he's grateful for the quiet coming from Castiel. But then, it was never going to be Sam, not for this.
There's almost silence as they drive, the radio on but barely loud enough to hear, as the motel fades in the rear view mirror and the Impala speeds along the road. Dean's not sure what he's looking for until he sees it, swerving off the road to follow the dirt track to a hill clearing overlooking some of the town below them. On any other night, he thinks, there would be other cars here, teenagers looking to get laid by their dates or guys banging the secretary. But tonight, it's silent, and Dean's kinda grateful.
He's been half-hard since he left the motel, his own hand around his cock doing nothing for him, and the soft light on his phone taunting him until he finally caved, finally texted Castiel with nothing more than a town and a motel name and a hope that this wasn't the time the angel finally decided not to show.
"I'll always be here, Dean." Castiel's voice is low, careful and Dean thinks there may be more words, but he moves before Cas can speak. The Stay outta my head is a quiet murmur before he presses his lips to Cas's and swallows whatever else he's about to say.
The front seats of the Impala aren't perfect for this, but they worked out most of the difficulties too many towns ago to count. The stick shift's still digging into Dean's side, but that's more than made up for by the way Castiel's fingers are at his jeans, popping open buttons and sliding inside to wrap around Dean's dick and releasing it from the confines of cotton and denim.
"Cas--"
Dean tears his mouth away from Castiel's, the fingers of one hand running through Cas's hair as he tilts his head to the side to lay kisses along Cas's throat, and the other going to his trousers, palm pressing against the hardness straining behind the fabric.
Castiel groans as he arches into Dean's touch.
"Dean, please--"
And this is what Dean needs to hear. Castiel, undone and wanting. Undone and needing. He tugs at Cas's trousers.
"Take them off."
Because Dean can't do what he wants to do when they're in the way. Can't touch, can't feel, can't bury himself so far into Castiel he'll always be there.
Castiel pauses before he moves, hips lifting and hands pushing at his trousers, sliding them down over his thighs.
There's rustling beside him as Dean pushes the seat back as far as it'll go, and then a beat, and twin thumps as Castiel's shoes hit the floor of the Impala. He fishes into his jeans pocket for the lube he put there before he left the motel room, twisting the cap off and dropping it to the floor, as he squeezes some onto his fingers, slicking his cock with touches that are too light and not enough and not Cas.
"Dean--"
His name is the only warning Dean gets before Castiel moves, graceful and lithe as he straddles Dean's legs, trousers and coat off, with his shirt half open and tie still around his neck. Dean shimmies down the seat slightly as he reaches between Cas's legs, pressing slippery fingers inside the angel as Castiel rubs his cock against Dean's stomach, smearing his t-shirt with pre-come.
"Now--" Cas growls, wrapping a hand around Dean's dick as he lowers himself down. And Dean's barely got his fingers out of Cas's body before the angel's against his cock, pressing down and taking Dean inside in one.
"Fuck--" Because there's not enough lube and not enough prep and Castiel is fucking tight as Dean sinks inside, skin catching on skin in a way that would be painful if it wasn't so perfect.
Castiel stills once Dean is fully in, eyes closed and head back and body rippling around Dean's cock.
Dean wants him to move, needs him to move. He'd beg if he could, but the words won't seem to come. Yes and please and Cas all stuck in his throat behind something that can't decide if it's shame or desire. He runs a hand up Castiel's arm, fingers moving over starched white cotton before resting on Cas's neck, stolen pulse beating under Dean's thumb.
Castiel's eyes are open now, wide and blown and looking at Dean. He swallows heavily and Dean can feel the movement under his palm. Can feel the breath running through him as Castiel shifts slightly, one hand gripping the back on the seat and the other on Dean's shoulder, fingers moving under the arm of his tee until Cas's hand is on the brand that marks Dean as his, squeezing both his fingers around Dean's shoulder and his ass around Dean's cock as he leans down and nips at Dean's lower lip with his teeth.
"Move--"
The word comes out part way between order and plea, and either way Dean can't help but obey. His free hand reaching to grip Castiel's hip, Dean thrusts up as Cas pushes down. It's not exactly co-ordinated and it's not exactly graceful, but it's as close as they're going to get for two grown men fucking in the front seat of a car.
And Dean thinks it isn't going to last. He's been too on edge, too close for too long, and Castiel is too tight, too hot, too there for Dean to be able to hold out. He moves his hand from Cas's throat to wrap around the angel's cock, fingers swiping through pre-come as Dean jacks him.
"Dean--"
Cas's voice is wrecked, laced with want and sin, and it breaks the dam in Dean's throat. Yes and fuck and god and Cas-- all spilling out of him in a litany of need.
Castiel is shuddering above him, shaking with each thrust of Dean's cock into his body. The please, Dean, oh god, please-- barely audible above the sounds of their breath, as Cas's grip on Dean's shoulder tightens.
Dean can feel the pleasure running through him, pooling in his belly, heady and volatile. He's too close to stop, couldn't even if he wanted to. His hand moves quicker over Castiel's flesh as his fingertips dig into the angel's hip, sharp and sudden, as Castiel stills above him, eyes closed and cock pulsing in Dean's grip as he comes.
It only takes a couple of thrusts for Dean to follow him, emptying himself into Castiel's still-shaking body as the soft Dean-- falls from Cas's lips.
Castiel's eyes stay closed as Dean moves his hand from his hip, ignoring the red mark that's left behind, partner to the permanent one Cas gave him when Dean was remade from the inside out. He moves his hand to card his fingers through Castiel's sweat-damp hair, feeling tiny tremors running through Cas's body.
"Cas, we should--" Get apart, get cleaned up, get back to the motel. There are a dozen options running through Dean's mind, but he finds himself unwilling to voice them. Finds himself unwilling to move, wanting to stay connected to Castiel.
"Stay--" Castiel offers, their faces so close they're sharing the same breath. "We should stay. For a little while longer."
And Dean can't disagree, so he rests his forehead against Cas's and lets the silence carry him.