Giving Up is Giving In Part II (2/2)
Masterpost
The beginning
Part One
Part Two
When Dean wakes up Cas is there, sitting up against the headboard with his fingers in Dean's hair. He's redefining the term bedhead, marks from the creases in the pillowcase still red on his face. He's an absolute mess and Dean is dying to make fun of him if only his brain could come up with something a little more scathing than, 'Fuck, you're beautiful.'
So he doesn't talk, just arches his neck till he's kissing hip, then thigh, the warmth of Cas burning against his cheek. Dean's been driving his father's car his whole life, had the same pair of boots since his feet stopped growing, orders the same three things in every diner they stop at. He doesn't do new. But when he looks up at Cas its the definition of rapture finally hitting home and if Cas can love him like this then Dean can learn to give a decent blowjob.
When Cas cums its the best fucking thing Dean's ever heard, slim hips squirming as he holds them down, hands shaking as they cup his face, and Cas' eyes boring into his as stutters out, "You... Dean..." and a garble of nonsense that's fucking hot though Dean couldn't begin to explain why.
He lies there, licking his tingling lips like a kid discovering candy, face pressed into Cas' stomach before climbing his way up Cas' body. He already has a bad line about him tasting like Heaven queued up but Cas cuts him off at the pass. There's arms and legs wrapping around him, Cas licking the taste of himself out of Dean's mouth. Whispering please against his lips like the angel's got a direct channel tuned into how close to all out desperate Dean's currently boiling.
By the time he presses into Cas Dean's too far gone to care about holding it together. He does his best to meet the way Cas is bucking under him, leaning over him to swallow the grunts tearing out of him with every thrust, buries what he'll never admit are whimpers inside Cas' mouth. In the end it's chaos. Sweat and teeth, faces jammed together, noses bumping, recycled breath and Cas screaming so loud Dean's waiting for the sound of shattering glass to follow when he paints Dean's hand.
Dean has no idea what he says when he comes, can barely remember anything other than blue and the feeling of home.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The second time Dean wakes up it's to the shrill of his ringtone, shortly followed by his brother's voice sounding south of pleased with him.
They clean up, pack up, and if Dean smiles a little too much the new girl manning the desk doesn't seem to mind. He catches Cas' arm in the parking lot, taking a long look at him before popping the trunk and unearthing the ball of tan he'd buried deep.
"You kept it."
"Of course I kept it."
He doesn't respond right away, about a thousand emotions stripping across his face before Cas finally nods, slipping it on without a word and looking back to Dean. For approval, for acceptance, fuck if Dean knows. He nods back, mindlessly reaches out to soothe down one of the lapels before stepping back and assessing him head to toe.
"Well. You don't look less crazy," friggin' teeth starting to hurt now from all the grinning. "Come on, assbutt. We got loads to tell Sam."
Cas doesn't say anything for 10 whole minutes and Dean doesn't mind one second of it.
Onto Part III!
The beginning
Part One
Part Two
When Dean wakes up Cas is there, sitting up against the headboard with his fingers in Dean's hair. He's redefining the term bedhead, marks from the creases in the pillowcase still red on his face. He's an absolute mess and Dean is dying to make fun of him if only his brain could come up with something a little more scathing than, 'Fuck, you're beautiful.'
So he doesn't talk, just arches his neck till he's kissing hip, then thigh, the warmth of Cas burning against his cheek. Dean's been driving his father's car his whole life, had the same pair of boots since his feet stopped growing, orders the same three things in every diner they stop at. He doesn't do new. But when he looks up at Cas its the definition of rapture finally hitting home and if Cas can love him like this then Dean can learn to give a decent blowjob.
When Cas cums its the best fucking thing Dean's ever heard, slim hips squirming as he holds them down, hands shaking as they cup his face, and Cas' eyes boring into his as stutters out, "You... Dean..." and a garble of nonsense that's fucking hot though Dean couldn't begin to explain why.
He lies there, licking his tingling lips like a kid discovering candy, face pressed into Cas' stomach before climbing his way up Cas' body. He already has a bad line about him tasting like Heaven queued up but Cas cuts him off at the pass. There's arms and legs wrapping around him, Cas licking the taste of himself out of Dean's mouth. Whispering please against his lips like the angel's got a direct channel tuned into how close to all out desperate Dean's currently boiling.
By the time he presses into Cas Dean's too far gone to care about holding it together. He does his best to meet the way Cas is bucking under him, leaning over him to swallow the grunts tearing out of him with every thrust, buries what he'll never admit are whimpers inside Cas' mouth. In the end it's chaos. Sweat and teeth, faces jammed together, noses bumping, recycled breath and Cas screaming so loud Dean's waiting for the sound of shattering glass to follow when he paints Dean's hand.
Dean has no idea what he says when he comes, can barely remember anything other than blue and the feeling of home.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The second time Dean wakes up it's to the shrill of his ringtone, shortly followed by his brother's voice sounding south of pleased with him.
They clean up, pack up, and if Dean smiles a little too much the new girl manning the desk doesn't seem to mind. He catches Cas' arm in the parking lot, taking a long look at him before popping the trunk and unearthing the ball of tan he'd buried deep.
"You kept it."
"Of course I kept it."
He doesn't respond right away, about a thousand emotions stripping across his face before Cas finally nods, slipping it on without a word and looking back to Dean. For approval, for acceptance, fuck if Dean knows. He nods back, mindlessly reaches out to soothe down one of the lapels before stepping back and assessing him head to toe.
"Well. You don't look less crazy," friggin' teeth starting to hurt now from all the grinning. "Come on, assbutt. We got loads to tell Sam."
Cas doesn't say anything for 10 whole minutes and Dean doesn't mind one second of it.
Onto Part III!