[ Combustible, fragile things are the kind most likely to explode and destroy a great deal of everything around them, but then Cas isn't in a place to lecture Dean about his anger. Cas was lightning in a bottle like that, once. Now he's a drained wine bottle with the bottom broken off: empty and sharp and incapable of being filled. But oh, how sweet it is to feel whole for a moment here and there, when Dean touches him gently and breathes Cas's name against his lips, a reminder of who he still is.
That lightning is gone, but the smell of motor oil and leather seats makes him feel high on nostalgia for a time when it wasn't. He sighs Dean's name into the next kiss, a reminder of who Dean always will be to him, and though there's no urgency or need to rush, Cas feels greedy for more of Dean, anyway. He traces the curve of Dean's back and his sides, his chest and his stomach as he kisses him again and again, inhaling the scent and taste of Dean with soft, oiled leather, and when Dean's shirt gets in the way of his hands, Cas tugs it up, and up, over Dean's arms.
He drops his head back to the seat and smiles as he watches, because Dean's always been, and still is, lovely to look at. Mostly though, it's just as nice to see Dean right now as it is to touch him. Cas's starved touches turn gentle as he traces Dean's high cheekbones, his plush lips and rough chin, before tugging him down again slowly and arching up to meet him in more leisurely, deep kisses. ]
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That lightning is gone, but the smell of motor oil and leather seats makes him feel high on nostalgia for a time when it wasn't. He sighs Dean's name into the next kiss, a reminder of who Dean always will be to him, and though there's no urgency or need to rush, Cas feels greedy for more of Dean, anyway. He traces the curve of Dean's back and his sides, his chest and his stomach as he kisses him again and again, inhaling the scent and taste of Dean with soft, oiled leather, and when Dean's shirt gets in the way of his hands, Cas tugs it up, and up, over Dean's arms.
He drops his head back to the seat and smiles as he watches, because Dean's always been, and still is, lovely to look at. Mostly though, it's just as nice to see Dean right now as it is to touch him. Cas's starved touches turn gentle as he traces Dean's high cheekbones, his plush lips and rough chin, before tugging him down again slowly and arching up to meet him in more leisurely, deep kisses. ]