Fic: Closer, My Love (Dean/Castiel)
I filled another request over at spnkink_meme. Less kinky than the other one... ;) The prompt:
Dean and Castiel have been together for long enough that they are totally familiar with each other. After a long day, they want each other, but they are just so tired. They try anyway, both fall asleep during and then deal with waking up the next day. Top!Dean please!
NC-17 again and warnings for sweetness.
**
Sometimes it feels like they’ve been doing this forever. Not the war, although that’s been going on for years with no end in sight. It’s one exhausting ‘skirmish’ after another. They win some, they lose some. More often, they stalemate.
But that’s not what Dean is talking about. He’s talking about the ‘afterwards’. The in-between times when it’s just him and the only angel who was ever worth anything. Who, against all the odds of being associated with Dean Winchester, keeps making it out alive.
Dean needs him. Just watching Castiel walk across the room to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, Dean needs him. When Castiel turns to find Dean watching from their kitchen entrance and his reaction is to hold the water out in silent easy offering, Dean’s need flips to want.
He’s across the room in a few easy strides and has Castiel shoved up against the fridge door in an instant. Castiel doesn’t object, he doesn’t say a word. He accepts Dean’s mouth on his and his hands slide into the back pockets of Dean’s jeans to drag him in closer. The water bottle rolls forgotten under one of the cupboards.
The moment Dean closes his eyes to kiss Castiel, that exhaustion hits him. He sags forward and Castiel braces their weight back against the fridge, hands squeezing over Dean’s ass to draw a moan from him.
“Dean...” Castiel sighs in resignation and Dean groans in frustration as he turns his head to bury in Castiel’s neck.
“I know.”
He manages to pull back, even though Castiel is warm and comfortable and Dean could so easily fall asleep just leaning against him like this. Which is why Castiel is right and they both need a bed. So Dean lets Castiel take him by the hand and lead them through the house.
The wood boards creak under their feet, the only noise in the still quiet. They’d stumbled upon this house nearly a year ago. No one else had lived here for a long time. So they stopped and stayed and now it was ‘theirs’, their base, their place to rest, to be together and them.
Castiel lets Dean undress him in their bedroom. Seems to accept it as something Dean needs to do because Dean does it every time. He strips off the t-shirt that Castiel wears now and Castiel lifts his arms obediently. He kisses Castiel’s shoulder and then kneels down to remove Castiel’s boots and socks.
Dean’s eyes close again and he leans forward until his forehead is resting against Castiel’s thigh. He only startles back to awareness when Castiel’s fingers run over his hair.
“Hey,” Castiel starts, tired amusement in his voice.
Dean shakes his head and raises his hands from where they’d come to rest on Castiel’s feet, fingers loosely wrapped around his ankles. A few tugs has Castiel’s worn jeans undone and pulled down, along with his boxers. Dean turns his head and finds Castiel’s soft cock, too close to resist and - tired or not - Dean doesn’t want to.
He mouths along the length, feels Castiel’s reaction in the tremble of his fingers against Dean’s head and the puff of a sigh from parted lips. Dean smirks - Castiel always gives in so easily - and closes his mouth over the head of Castiel’s dick.
Castiel starts nudging at him when he’s half-hard with a breathless “Dean, Dean...” Dean knows what that means and he pulls off, pushing clumsily to his feet. Castiel is already stumbling backwards towards the bed, falling onto it heavily, no trace of his usual grace. Legs parted, half-hard cock laying against his thigh. It’s a sight Dean will never get tired of and one he can’t wait for.
He crawls onto the bed and over Castiel fully clothed, even the gun still strapped to his thigh. Castiel meets him with knees bent up, feet flat on the bed to lift his hips into Dean’s instant grind. Castiel’s whole body nearly undulates beneath him and Dean moans into the mouth he covers with his own. Tension melts from them both and leaves them pressed together in a way Dean had never imagined possible.
Castiel’s hands smooth down his sides while Dean keeps rolling his hips into the cradle of Castiel’s, his movements slow and mindless. Castiel’s fingers wraps around the hilt of Dean's gun and pull it from the holster. It hits the floor loudly a second later, Dean groaning and pressing his face once again into Castiel’s neck as Castiel works to free Dean from his jeans. Finally, fingers wrap around his cock, skilled and knowing when it comes to Dean and the haze in Dean’s mind thickens.
He’s hard in minutes, hard enough, and Dean doesn’t really know how Castiel is doing it but his fingers are suddenly slick and cool. Dean jerks, eyes snapping open and thrusting against Castiel’s hand. He doesn’t remember his jeans getting pushed down around his thighs, either, but there they are and Dean has the startling certainty that he’d just fallen asleep and he’s still half-way there.
He pillows his head down on Castiel’s chest, turned just enough so his mouth rests against skin, breaths heavy and shallow. Castiel doesn’t stop and Dean would never want him to, not when Castiel is guiding Dean’s cock into his body and a moan punches from somewhere deep in his chest. He can feel Castiel arch his head back and then stillness. It goes on for a minute. Castiel holds Dean so well and Dean hears him calling his name.
“Dean.” Silence. “Dean?”
Dean falls asleep to Castiel’s arms hugging him tight.
**
Dean wakes up to Castiel’s mouth around his dick.
He’s kicked his jeans down to his ankles where they’re tangled at his boots. His holster is next to him though Dean has no recollection of either of them taking it off last night. His shirt is rucked up uncomfortably under his back.
None of that matters because Castiel’s mouth is around his dick.
“Cas, what the fuck?”
Castiel pulls off in a long sucking move that makes Dean’s toes curl in his boots. “You owe me.”
Dean remembers falling asleep with a snort of amusement. Remembers Castiel all but doing the same thing. Picking up where they left off does seem like the only solution.
**
Dean and Castiel have been together for long enough that they are totally familiar with each other. After a long day, they want each other, but they are just so tired. They try anyway, both fall asleep during and then deal with waking up the next day. Top!Dean please!
NC-17 again and warnings for sweetness.
**
Sometimes it feels like they’ve been doing this forever. Not the war, although that’s been going on for years with no end in sight. It’s one exhausting ‘skirmish’ after another. They win some, they lose some. More often, they stalemate.
But that’s not what Dean is talking about. He’s talking about the ‘afterwards’. The in-between times when it’s just him and the only angel who was ever worth anything. Who, against all the odds of being associated with Dean Winchester, keeps making it out alive.
Dean needs him. Just watching Castiel walk across the room to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, Dean needs him. When Castiel turns to find Dean watching from their kitchen entrance and his reaction is to hold the water out in silent easy offering, Dean’s need flips to want.
He’s across the room in a few easy strides and has Castiel shoved up against the fridge door in an instant. Castiel doesn’t object, he doesn’t say a word. He accepts Dean’s mouth on his and his hands slide into the back pockets of Dean’s jeans to drag him in closer. The water bottle rolls forgotten under one of the cupboards.
The moment Dean closes his eyes to kiss Castiel, that exhaustion hits him. He sags forward and Castiel braces their weight back against the fridge, hands squeezing over Dean’s ass to draw a moan from him.
“Dean...” Castiel sighs in resignation and Dean groans in frustration as he turns his head to bury in Castiel’s neck.
“I know.”
He manages to pull back, even though Castiel is warm and comfortable and Dean could so easily fall asleep just leaning against him like this. Which is why Castiel is right and they both need a bed. So Dean lets Castiel take him by the hand and lead them through the house.
The wood boards creak under their feet, the only noise in the still quiet. They’d stumbled upon this house nearly a year ago. No one else had lived here for a long time. So they stopped and stayed and now it was ‘theirs’, their base, their place to rest, to be together and them.
Castiel lets Dean undress him in their bedroom. Seems to accept it as something Dean needs to do because Dean does it every time. He strips off the t-shirt that Castiel wears now and Castiel lifts his arms obediently. He kisses Castiel’s shoulder and then kneels down to remove Castiel’s boots and socks.
Dean’s eyes close again and he leans forward until his forehead is resting against Castiel’s thigh. He only startles back to awareness when Castiel’s fingers run over his hair.
“Hey,” Castiel starts, tired amusement in his voice.
Dean shakes his head and raises his hands from where they’d come to rest on Castiel’s feet, fingers loosely wrapped around his ankles. A few tugs has Castiel’s worn jeans undone and pulled down, along with his boxers. Dean turns his head and finds Castiel’s soft cock, too close to resist and - tired or not - Dean doesn’t want to.
He mouths along the length, feels Castiel’s reaction in the tremble of his fingers against Dean’s head and the puff of a sigh from parted lips. Dean smirks - Castiel always gives in so easily - and closes his mouth over the head of Castiel’s dick.
Castiel starts nudging at him when he’s half-hard with a breathless “Dean, Dean...” Dean knows what that means and he pulls off, pushing clumsily to his feet. Castiel is already stumbling backwards towards the bed, falling onto it heavily, no trace of his usual grace. Legs parted, half-hard cock laying against his thigh. It’s a sight Dean will never get tired of and one he can’t wait for.
He crawls onto the bed and over Castiel fully clothed, even the gun still strapped to his thigh. Castiel meets him with knees bent up, feet flat on the bed to lift his hips into Dean’s instant grind. Castiel’s whole body nearly undulates beneath him and Dean moans into the mouth he covers with his own. Tension melts from them both and leaves them pressed together in a way Dean had never imagined possible.
Castiel’s hands smooth down his sides while Dean keeps rolling his hips into the cradle of Castiel’s, his movements slow and mindless. Castiel’s fingers wraps around the hilt of Dean's gun and pull it from the holster. It hits the floor loudly a second later, Dean groaning and pressing his face once again into Castiel’s neck as Castiel works to free Dean from his jeans. Finally, fingers wrap around his cock, skilled and knowing when it comes to Dean and the haze in Dean’s mind thickens.
He’s hard in minutes, hard enough, and Dean doesn’t really know how Castiel is doing it but his fingers are suddenly slick and cool. Dean jerks, eyes snapping open and thrusting against Castiel’s hand. He doesn’t remember his jeans getting pushed down around his thighs, either, but there they are and Dean has the startling certainty that he’d just fallen asleep and he’s still half-way there.
He pillows his head down on Castiel’s chest, turned just enough so his mouth rests against skin, breaths heavy and shallow. Castiel doesn’t stop and Dean would never want him to, not when Castiel is guiding Dean’s cock into his body and a moan punches from somewhere deep in his chest. He can feel Castiel arch his head back and then stillness. It goes on for a minute. Castiel holds Dean so well and Dean hears him calling his name.
“Dean.” Silence. “Dean?”
Dean falls asleep to Castiel’s arms hugging him tight.
**
Dean wakes up to Castiel’s mouth around his dick.
He’s kicked his jeans down to his ankles where they’re tangled at his boots. His holster is next to him though Dean has no recollection of either of them taking it off last night. His shirt is rucked up uncomfortably under his back.
None of that matters because Castiel’s mouth is around his dick.
“Cas, what the fuck?”
Castiel pulls off in a long sucking move that makes Dean’s toes curl in his boots. “You owe me.”
Dean remembers falling asleep with a snort of amusement. Remembers Castiel all but doing the same thing. Picking up where they left off does seem like the only solution.
**