Prompt: Dean/Gabriel, dirty talk
anonymous
November 2 2011, 23:11:58 UTC
Dean loves cock, but he denies it, just like he denies that he likes to be fucked.
Gabriel's having none of that, he's gonna make him admit it. Even better, he's gonna make him moan and scream these things out loud, how much he loves what's being done to him. Especially since it's Gabriel doing all of it.
Re: Prompt: Dean/Gabriel, dirty talk (1/4)
anonymous
November 3 2011, 04:08:39 UTC
(More or less. Denial of the actual act is more or less past, but we glimpse it. This is more denial of the whole dominance aspect of it. Implied background Cas/Dean and OT4. May be triggery for noncon and dubcon.)
There had been a man once, back before Hell, who’d found just the right spot to press on the inside of Dean’s thigh that opened him up, gasping and startled, made him bend and plead and want. He’d never thought about it before.
Then there had been a couple of girls who’d slid their fingers back and down, and he’d taken their hands and pressed them just there and opened for them and fallen apart for them, dirty and begging and shameless because he’d never see them again after tomorrow, and just once, just for this once, he could let them take over, take him, break him into shuddering pieces, hand them the reins and not be the one who had to fix every fucking thing in the world
( ... )
Re: Prompt: Dean/Gabriel, dirty talk
anonymous
November 3 2011, 05:05:08 UTC
Gabriel avoided Dean for two weeks. Or possibly Dean avoided him. Or Castiel just did his collie-dog thing where he glared at everyone until they were magically in the places he wanted them to be without them really noticing how they’d got there (and really, it was kind of embarrassing how quickly he’d programmed Sam and Dean to respond to growled orders, especially when it came to life and death situations or turning off the television after 10:30 pm, and Dean wasn’t even asking about Gabriel but it seemed to work on him too, against all logic
( ... )
Re: Prompt: Dean/Gabriel, dirty talk (3/4)
anonymous
November 3 2011, 05:37:59 UTC
Gabriel looked startled, then softer, then his eyes narrowed. “You weren’t actually listening at all, were you? I swear, between the three of you, you’ve almost got the observational powers of a small caterpillar. A purple one, with spots. You’re lucky I spent millenia drumming Dad’s messages through thicker skulls than yours. Neanderthals, surprisingly sharp
( ... )
Re: Prompt: Dean/Gabriel, dirty talk (3/4)
anonymous
November 3 2011, 05:43:26 UTC
... and I shall post the rest in the morning. It will probably morph to 5 parts. This is what happens when you let Dean and Gabriel actually talk. Or, you know, have thoughts. Seriously, who gave them brains and emotions and histories? Ridiculous.
Re: Prompt: Dean/Gabriel, dirty talk (3.5/4)
anonymous
November 3 2011, 16:54:51 UTC
Somehow, Dean couldn’t help thinking in a sort of panicky way through the hand curved hard around his collarbone, they’d gotten way off track. Or maybe Gabriel just had a thing for Dean and walls. Or trees. Or whatever.
Gabriel’s voice was a low rumble through his bones, just through that one point of contact. And somehow Dean always forgot just how terrifying the archangel could be, just how fucking vast. “He gave up his family for you, his faith, his heart, his life, his essence, and you gave him flesh.”
Gabriel’s fingers ran up the inside of his thigh, not gentle, pressing into the seam of the denim. They skimmed just by that spot and lingered, a breath short of too-hot pressure. Dean tried to keep his voice from shaking. “And what the hell does that have to do with - with grabbing at me, Gabriel? Trying to prove some kind of a point? Cause that isn’t anything we haven’t done before.”
“Yeah?” Gabriel breathed into his ear. “Then go ahead and tell me you’re completely down with this. Letting me do this to you. Anything. Open
( ... )
Re: Prompt: Dean/Gabriel, dirty talk (4/4)
anonymous
November 3 2011, 16:55:51 UTC
He expected Gabriel to make it rough and hard and quick, pound him into raw shattered gasps against the rough ridges of the tree roots, all weight and heat and irrefutable strength. But he did worse, devastatingly worse.
He took his time.
He was gentle and fierce and inexorable, leaving no part of Dean untouched, unloved. Hands and mouth and voice and grace, body and soul, murmuring all the time in a rough litany that pulled Dean to bits, taking out every little part that made him who he was and cradling it gently, turning it over and over in his hands and wondering at it and seeing everything, mind and body and the centre of his fucking soul. It was bright and hungry and fierce and not nice at all, on and on until Dean was trembling with the intimacy of it, raw and open and terrifying, stumbling over the responses Gabriel demanded, confessing, moaning, admitting, cursing. He didn’t let Dean keep a single part for himself, until Dean was pleading and promising and Gabriel was pressing soft open kisses along his jaw and whispering
( ... )
Re: Prompt: Dean/Gabriel, dirty talk (4/4)
anonymous
November 3 2011, 16:58:19 UTC
(And, having just re-read the prompt after posting the last part of this, it probably doesn't actually answer the kinks your prompt was aiming for at all. Oh well. I was feverish and couldn't sleep, and this was fun to write!)
Re: Prompt: Dean/Gabriel, dirty talk (4/4)
anonymous
November 3 2011, 22:29:19 UTC
Yes - apparently trying to write actually dirty talk makes me intensely uncomfortable. That, I did not foresee. Which is a little unfortunate, given the title of your prompt - and consequently of the fic, though if I ever own up to it as an outtake of a verse I'm currently writing I'll probably rename it anyway. But, apologies if it wasn't what you were hoping for. I shall blame the fever.
Re: Prompt: Dean/Gabriel, dirty talk (4/4)whit_meruleNovember 28 2011, 21:22:32 UTC
I wasn't going to claim this one, but I just wrote another which was far too long for the comments and needed just to be posted in a regular journal entry. So, I may as well 'fess up to both at once. Slightly revised, over here.
Gabriel's having none of that, he's gonna make him admit it. Even better, he's gonna make him moan and scream these things out loud, how much he loves what's being done to him. Especially since it's Gabriel doing all of it.
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There had been a man once, back before Hell, who’d found just the right spot to press on the inside of Dean’s thigh that opened him up, gasping and startled, made him bend and plead and want. He’d never thought about it before.
Then there had been a couple of girls who’d slid their fingers back and down, and he’d taken their hands and pressed them just there and opened for them and fallen apart for them, dirty and begging and shameless because he’d never see them again after tomorrow, and just once, just for this once, he could let them take over, take him, break him into shuddering pieces, hand them the reins and not be the one who had to fix every fucking thing in the world ( ... )
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Gabriel’s voice was a low rumble through his bones, just through that one point of contact. And somehow Dean always forgot just how terrifying the archangel could be, just how fucking vast. “He gave up his family for you, his faith, his heart, his life, his essence, and you gave him flesh.”
Gabriel’s fingers ran up the inside of his thigh, not gentle, pressing into the seam of the denim. They skimmed just by that spot and lingered, a breath short of too-hot pressure. Dean tried to keep his voice from shaking. “And what the hell does that have to do with - with grabbing at me, Gabriel? Trying to prove some kind of a point? Cause that isn’t anything we haven’t done before.”
“Yeah?” Gabriel breathed into his ear. “Then go ahead and tell me you’re completely down with this. Letting me do this to you. Anything. Open ( ... )
Reply
He took his time.
He was gentle and fierce and inexorable, leaving no part of Dean untouched, unloved. Hands and mouth and voice and grace, body and soul, murmuring all the time in a rough litany that pulled Dean to bits, taking out every little part that made him who he was and cradling it gently, turning it over and over in his hands and wondering at it and seeing everything, mind and body and the centre of his fucking soul. It was bright and hungry and fierce and not nice at all, on and on until Dean was trembling with the intimacy of it, raw and open and terrifying, stumbling over the responses Gabriel demanded, confessing, moaning, admitting, cursing. He didn’t let Dean keep a single part for himself, until Dean was pleading and promising and Gabriel was pressing soft open kisses along his jaw and whispering ( ... )
Reply
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Slightly revised, over here.
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