I'd Give Up Forever To Touch You
Title: I'd Give Up Forever to Touch You
Author: pyjamagurl
Words: 1307
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: smut.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Summary: The events that took place between You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth and Get Tangled Up in Me.
Author's note: Once again this series is dedicated to i-rise-inside. Sorry it took so long to update, it's been forever since I attempted smut, and there's still too many mentions of the boys' names but it's as good as it's going to get, I fear. And yes, there is still a sequel to come :)
Enjoy!
Castiel pushes Dean back on the bed, and Dean quickly forgets anything at all about wanting to interrupt.
Dean will never admit it, but he always likes when the person he is with takes charge. There’s a small part of him that thinks that maybe he should be the one shoving Cas back on the bed and having his way with him, but this is much too pleasurable.
The angel is ravaging him like he hasn’t ever felt this before, and a small voice at the back of his mind reminds him quietly that he probably hasn’t. The kisses are a little too hard and he is tugging at clothes with rough abandon, not really caring that the fabric is tearing away at the seams.
Dean pushes back, forcing Castiel to slow down, drawing kisses out longer and slower so that he doesn’t feel like his mouth is being quite so bruised. There’s a niggling thought at the back of his mind that can’t help wondering where all this has come from, when his nerdy little angel got so forward and where he got his life lessons from, because he doesn’t remember seeing any hint of him wanting in his pants before. Sure, he’d seen the looks; he’d stared at him enough damn times to know there was something there between them. But he never thought either of them would act on it.
There’s the slow drag of teeth on his bottom lip and Dean lets out a small, accidental, whine as Cas pulls away from him. Dark blue, lust blown, eyes are gazing into his green ones as hands slowly drag Dean’s t-shirt up and over his head.
The next kiss is slow, careful, tongues brushing against one another in a kiss no less passionate than the ones before. He finds himself smiling against Cas, thinking he’s one hell of a fast learner.
It’s only as Castiel’s fingers are on his belt, flicking well-worn leather from its buckle with ease, fingers grazing past the waistband of his pants and he starts to think its wholly unfair how overdressed the angel is in comparison to himself.
It’s his turn to hurry things up now. He’s pushing that well-worn trench coat off with the kind of glee that implies he’s never really liked it very much. In all honesty, it’s more to do with the fact he’s never seen his Castiel without it. He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact the angel is kissing him with a newfound hunger and helping Dean with the buttons of his shirt before that too joins the trench coat in a heap on the floor.
Two pairs of pants join the pile too and the thrill of what they are about to do, something they can never come back from, is making the blood pump loudly in his ears. Castiel has forgotten any need for roughness. His touches are soft and agonizingly slow now, teasing goose pimples from Dean’s skin with his fingertips as he kisses a trail down the bare expanse of stomach, stopping at the band of his boxers.
Dean’s hand involuntarily tightens in Castiel’s hair and the angel looks up him in a way he has never seen before. Last time he was looked at like that … yeah, he got laid.
‘Cas, please,’ his voice is broken, begging and he feels a bit like an idiot but Castiel doesn’t seem to notice. There’s a bit of an evil smile on his face, actually. And he is not entirely sure that’s a look angels should have.
Castiel rids Dean of his boxers in one fluid motion before he is back over him in a matter of seconds. He traces circles low on Dean’s hips with his thumbs, tickling and teasing as kisses him long and hard.
Dean isn’t even sure where the lotion comes from, and he isn’t really in the right state of mind to stop and ask. The next thing he knows there is a cool, wet finger pressing against him, then inside him and all other thoughts leave him.
He parts his legs, realizing that it is slightly obscene to do so, giving him more room as the angel moves over him, sliding two fingers in now, carefully and Dean’s fingernails dig into Castiel’s skin where he is holding him.
He gets used to it quickly, too quickly, and he is back to caressing the skin of Castiel’s flanks and kissing any bit of skin he can reach before a third finger slides in and he juts his hips upwards. He lets out a low groan that isn’t exactly agony. Castiel kisses him softly, pulling his fingers free before he pushes back and jumps off the bed.
There is a protest on Dean’s lips at the loss, but as he watches Castiel drop his own boxers and sees evidence of the other man’s arousal, he forgets his complaint. The angel is back on him in a second anyway, warm and hard on top of him, and yet still somehow scarily human as his muscles bunch under his fingers. He thinks he should be different somehow, not quite so human. Not quite so fragile.
There’s the crinkle of foil and he drops his gaze to watch as Castiel slides on the condom and not for the first time he realizes how weird this is. The angel catches his gaze, a silent question on his face. He nods once, the movement barely more than a twitch.
When Castiel pushes into him, the rest of the world falls away. Dean’s knees tighten around the angel’s hips, his fingers digging in a little too tightly on his sides. Castiel pauses, leaning in to kiss him, letting him get used to the feeling of being filled.
‘Damn it, Cas,’ Dean whispers against the skin of the pale neck above him, pressing his forehead against the curve of Castiel’s shoulder. ‘Please…’
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts moving over Dean, slowly at first with shallow thrusts but then faster, harder, further as Dean urges him on in desperate whispers. When Castiel brushes up against a little knot of nerves he was barely aware of having before, he can see little else but white dots skittering across his vision.
The groan that escapes him seems to be the noise Cas has been waiting for as he slows his thrusts down again, fucking him slow and deep as he wraps a hand around Dean’s cock. It doesn’t take much, three sharp strokes and he is coming, groaning into the angel’s neck. Castiel tumbles after him, a stream of mostly incoherent mumblings escaping him as rides out his orgasm.
He leans in and kisses Dean once more softly on the lips before kissing along his jaw line. He ducks his head and kisses Dean’s neck, lips sucking on sensitive skin drawing blood to the surface but not breaking skin. He kisses his way back up, stopping when he kisses the corner of his lips.
He pulls out of Dean and drags the sheets up over their waists before he lies down beside him. He trails fingers down Dean’s ribs, tracing the almost-there line of a white scar from god-knows-how-long-ago.
‘I love you...’ he says quietly.
It’s honest, raw, and Dean doesn’t know how to respond to that. There’s a dull ache in the pit of his stomach. He wants so much to say the words back but at the same time he doesn’t know how. It shouldn’t be hard, it is just three simple words, after all but they don’t come. Saying them would make this real, final.
He pulls Castiel closer to him, wrapping his arms around the other man’s shoulders and nuzzling into dark brown, unruly hair. He only hopes it is enough.
As Cas drapes an arm possessively around his middle, snuggling in against him, Dean feels himself falling asleep thinking maybe, just maybe, it is enough.
Author: pyjamagurl
Words: 1307
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: smut.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Summary: The events that took place between You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth and Get Tangled Up in Me.
Author's note: Once again this series is dedicated to i-rise-inside. Sorry it took so long to update, it's been forever since I attempted smut, and there's still too many mentions of the boys' names but it's as good as it's going to get, I fear. And yes, there is still a sequel to come :)
Enjoy!
Castiel pushes Dean back on the bed, and Dean quickly forgets anything at all about wanting to interrupt.
Dean will never admit it, but he always likes when the person he is with takes charge. There’s a small part of him that thinks that maybe he should be the one shoving Cas back on the bed and having his way with him, but this is much too pleasurable.
The angel is ravaging him like he hasn’t ever felt this before, and a small voice at the back of his mind reminds him quietly that he probably hasn’t. The kisses are a little too hard and he is tugging at clothes with rough abandon, not really caring that the fabric is tearing away at the seams.
Dean pushes back, forcing Castiel to slow down, drawing kisses out longer and slower so that he doesn’t feel like his mouth is being quite so bruised. There’s a niggling thought at the back of his mind that can’t help wondering where all this has come from, when his nerdy little angel got so forward and where he got his life lessons from, because he doesn’t remember seeing any hint of him wanting in his pants before. Sure, he’d seen the looks; he’d stared at him enough damn times to know there was something there between them. But he never thought either of them would act on it.
There’s the slow drag of teeth on his bottom lip and Dean lets out a small, accidental, whine as Cas pulls away from him. Dark blue, lust blown, eyes are gazing into his green ones as hands slowly drag Dean’s t-shirt up and over his head.
The next kiss is slow, careful, tongues brushing against one another in a kiss no less passionate than the ones before. He finds himself smiling against Cas, thinking he’s one hell of a fast learner.
It’s only as Castiel’s fingers are on his belt, flicking well-worn leather from its buckle with ease, fingers grazing past the waistband of his pants and he starts to think its wholly unfair how overdressed the angel is in comparison to himself.
It’s his turn to hurry things up now. He’s pushing that well-worn trench coat off with the kind of glee that implies he’s never really liked it very much. In all honesty, it’s more to do with the fact he’s never seen his Castiel without it. He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact the angel is kissing him with a newfound hunger and helping Dean with the buttons of his shirt before that too joins the trench coat in a heap on the floor.
Two pairs of pants join the pile too and the thrill of what they are about to do, something they can never come back from, is making the blood pump loudly in his ears. Castiel has forgotten any need for roughness. His touches are soft and agonizingly slow now, teasing goose pimples from Dean’s skin with his fingertips as he kisses a trail down the bare expanse of stomach, stopping at the band of his boxers.
Dean’s hand involuntarily tightens in Castiel’s hair and the angel looks up him in a way he has never seen before. Last time he was looked at like that … yeah, he got laid.
‘Cas, please,’ his voice is broken, begging and he feels a bit like an idiot but Castiel doesn’t seem to notice. There’s a bit of an evil smile on his face, actually. And he is not entirely sure that’s a look angels should have.
Castiel rids Dean of his boxers in one fluid motion before he is back over him in a matter of seconds. He traces circles low on Dean’s hips with his thumbs, tickling and teasing as kisses him long and hard.
Dean isn’t even sure where the lotion comes from, and he isn’t really in the right state of mind to stop and ask. The next thing he knows there is a cool, wet finger pressing against him, then inside him and all other thoughts leave him.
He parts his legs, realizing that it is slightly obscene to do so, giving him more room as the angel moves over him, sliding two fingers in now, carefully and Dean’s fingernails dig into Castiel’s skin where he is holding him.
He gets used to it quickly, too quickly, and he is back to caressing the skin of Castiel’s flanks and kissing any bit of skin he can reach before a third finger slides in and he juts his hips upwards. He lets out a low groan that isn’t exactly agony. Castiel kisses him softly, pulling his fingers free before he pushes back and jumps off the bed.
There is a protest on Dean’s lips at the loss, but as he watches Castiel drop his own boxers and sees evidence of the other man’s arousal, he forgets his complaint. The angel is back on him in a second anyway, warm and hard on top of him, and yet still somehow scarily human as his muscles bunch under his fingers. He thinks he should be different somehow, not quite so human. Not quite so fragile.
There’s the crinkle of foil and he drops his gaze to watch as Castiel slides on the condom and not for the first time he realizes how weird this is. The angel catches his gaze, a silent question on his face. He nods once, the movement barely more than a twitch.
When Castiel pushes into him, the rest of the world falls away. Dean’s knees tighten around the angel’s hips, his fingers digging in a little too tightly on his sides. Castiel pauses, leaning in to kiss him, letting him get used to the feeling of being filled.
‘Damn it, Cas,’ Dean whispers against the skin of the pale neck above him, pressing his forehead against the curve of Castiel’s shoulder. ‘Please…’
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts moving over Dean, slowly at first with shallow thrusts but then faster, harder, further as Dean urges him on in desperate whispers. When Castiel brushes up against a little knot of nerves he was barely aware of having before, he can see little else but white dots skittering across his vision.
The groan that escapes him seems to be the noise Cas has been waiting for as he slows his thrusts down again, fucking him slow and deep as he wraps a hand around Dean’s cock. It doesn’t take much, three sharp strokes and he is coming, groaning into the angel’s neck. Castiel tumbles after him, a stream of mostly incoherent mumblings escaping him as rides out his orgasm.
He leans in and kisses Dean once more softly on the lips before kissing along his jaw line. He ducks his head and kisses Dean’s neck, lips sucking on sensitive skin drawing blood to the surface but not breaking skin. He kisses his way back up, stopping when he kisses the corner of his lips.
He pulls out of Dean and drags the sheets up over their waists before he lies down beside him. He trails fingers down Dean’s ribs, tracing the almost-there line of a white scar from god-knows-how-long-ago.
‘I love you...’ he says quietly.
It’s honest, raw, and Dean doesn’t know how to respond to that. There’s a dull ache in the pit of his stomach. He wants so much to say the words back but at the same time he doesn’t know how. It shouldn’t be hard, it is just three simple words, after all but they don’t come. Saying them would make this real, final.
He pulls Castiel closer to him, wrapping his arms around the other man’s shoulders and nuzzling into dark brown, unruly hair. He only hopes it is enough.
As Cas drapes an arm possessively around his middle, snuggling in against him, Dean feels himself falling asleep thinking maybe, just maybe, it is enough.