[ dean's hands move over his body with something almost like reverence, and castiel is tensing beneath his touch, his skin jumping beneath dean's fingers, eager and oversensitive because all of this is still so new to him, so odd and strange, but so good. it's why he doesn't run away from it, even though it's intimidating, a huge stretch of something foreign and unexplored.
but he comes back for it, gives into it, because it's dean, and castiel would do almost anything for him, give him everything. there's no denying the strength of this connection they'd built, and for a long time castiel had thought that it must be one-sided, unrequited, and he'd been.. fine with that, more or less. dean was a skirt chaser, just as fond of girls as girls were of him, and considering his prowess and inclination for hunting outside of his own house, there was no one in their year that didn't know that. then dean was looking at him, and even after they'd gotten closer it was difficult to convince himself that anything castiel felt for him could ever be reciprocated - but now.. recently castiel has chanced to believe it, because when dean touches him like this, kisses him like this, even castiel can't mistake the look in his eyes.
and now dean has him all worked up, his lean, sinewy body tense in all the best ways, an urgent heat pooling in his belly, tightening with every kiss, with every inch of skin dean's strong hands pass over and castiel just drinks it in, sinking into the feeling, the want, the warmth. soft sounds move in his throat, appreciative noises to let dean know that it's good, that he likes everything he's doing. castiel's left hand closes in a loose fist around the condom, but his right finds the courage to start returning the favor, pressing flat to dean's bicep and sliding down, beneath it, tracing his side through his thin shirt, teasing at the waistband of his trousers
then dean is gone, dropping to his knees, and for a handful of moments castiel feels bereft, only cold library air against his too hot skin where his open shirt is pressed back, chilly against the wet spots left behind by dean's mouth. but then his blue eyes drop, and dean is kneeling before him, grinning like a jackal and pulling at his fly and castiel feels his belly go tight, a hot spike of anticipation stabbing deep. ]
Dean. [ he whispers, harsh and rough, half-hard in his trousers already. he drops the condom to the shelf to instead grasp it for support, while his right finds dean's face, fingers carding through his hair and tugging gently but impatiently. even castiel, for all his lack of expertise here, knows exactly what dean is going for. ] Please.
this thread is a good thread
but he comes back for it, gives into it, because it's dean, and castiel would do almost anything for him, give him everything. there's no denying the strength of this connection they'd built, and for a long time castiel had thought that it must be one-sided, unrequited, and he'd been.. fine with that, more or less. dean was a skirt chaser, just as fond of girls as girls were of him, and considering his prowess and inclination for hunting outside of his own house, there was no one in their year that didn't know that. then dean was looking at him, and even after they'd gotten closer it was difficult to convince himself that anything castiel felt for him could ever be reciprocated - but now.. recently castiel has chanced to believe it, because when dean touches him like this, kisses him like this, even castiel can't mistake the look in his eyes.
and now dean has him all worked up, his lean, sinewy body tense in all the best ways, an urgent heat pooling in his belly, tightening with every kiss, with every inch of skin dean's strong hands pass over and castiel just drinks it in, sinking into the feeling, the want, the warmth. soft sounds move in his throat, appreciative noises to let dean know that it's good, that he likes everything he's doing. castiel's left hand closes in a loose fist around the condom, but his right finds the courage to start returning the favor, pressing flat to dean's bicep and sliding down, beneath it, tracing his side through his thin shirt, teasing at the waistband of his trousers
then dean is gone, dropping to his knees, and for a handful of moments castiel feels bereft, only cold library air against his too hot skin where his open shirt is pressed back, chilly against the wet spots left behind by dean's mouth. but then his blue eyes drop, and dean is kneeling before him, grinning like a jackal and pulling at his fly and castiel feels his belly go tight, a hot spike of anticipation stabbing deep. ]
Dean. [ he whispers, harsh and rough, half-hard in his trousers already. he drops the condom to the shelf to instead grasp it for support, while his right finds dean's face, fingers carding through his hair and tugging gently but impatiently. even castiel, for all his lack of expertise here, knows exactly what dean is going for. ] Please.