[ Things progress like a fire hitting gasoline, from a warm slow spark to roaring flames as Dean is suddenly touching him everywhere: his face, his hips— and then Dean is gone entirely, leaned back and leaving Castiel to breathlessly watch as Dean arches, pulling off his shirt: a beautiful sculpture of God's magnificence in human form, and much too far away, suddenly. Castiel makes a needy little sound, but he isn't left to want for long. Dean is leaned over him again almost instantly, sucking on his neck, and Castiel's head tilts back in ecstasy. His hips lift, seeking out friction, only to be met by the grind of Dean's own hips down, and there's clothing there in the way still, but Castiel's hands dig mindlessly into Dean's hips and he ruts up shameless against Dean, anyway, as if there were nothing there between them. ]
Dean...
[ He begs shamelessly, and with a thought and a squeeze of his hands in Dean's belt, the belt and jeans are gone. But there's still a layer of fabric there that Castiel hadn't even thought about, and he whimpers with need, and the heat he can feel of Dean's cock straining through the thin cotton. ]
Dean, please...
[ Castiel doesn't even know what he's begging for. More of Dean's skin? More of his mouth on his neck? Or maybe just to come, after all the teasing he's already endured. He doesn't know, can't think to know anything beyond Dean, Dean, Dean. ]
no subject
Dean...
[ He begs shamelessly, and with a thought and a squeeze of his hands in Dean's belt, the belt and jeans are gone. But there's still a layer of fabric there that Castiel hadn't even thought about, and he whimpers with need, and the heat he can feel of Dean's cock straining through the thin cotton. ]
Dean, please...
[ Castiel doesn't even know what he's begging for. More of Dean's skin? More of his mouth on his neck? Or maybe just to come, after all the teasing he's already endured. He doesn't know, can't think to know anything beyond Dean, Dean, Dean. ]