[I've never had to cut a fic here into two parts before, but it's so hard to cut words out of porn...so, y'know, don't tell anyone *shifty*]
By the end of the day Dean can't hold back any more. He's too bright, too restless, adrenaline a wire in his spine that won't let him rest, won't let him relax.
Castiel lays a hand on his arm.
"You should calm down, this solves nothing."
"Maybe you should make me," Dean spits.
Castiel's fingers bite in, an edge of unexpected pain and Dean stills and gasps and, yeah, that's it. That flash of frustrated anger is what he wants and he pulls, gives one great jerk hard enough to hurt and Castiel...doesn't let go.
"Is this what you want from me?" Castiel demands, voice careful and heavy and flat. But there's a flicker of something almost wild in his eyes. Blue drowning in black - and Jesus Dean doesn't want to think that, can't think that.
But there in Castiel's face is something hard, something certain, something prepared to give him whatever he wants and Dean swallows, rough and hard, too quick.
"Yes." It's quiet and honest and stupid, damn stupid.
It's how he ends up on the floor, clothes stripped from him in quick, efficient movements. Not resisting any of it. Until he's left on his knees on the carpet, skin prickling in the cool air, breathing tension and anger and unwilling arousal.
Castiel's hand is so fucking strong on the back of his neck, impossible to push again, impossible to resist, and Dean almost chokes on trying. It pushes all the way down, presses until his forehead touches the floor
"Are you penitent?" Castiel asks smoothly.
"Cas-"
"Answer me." The fingers tighten, until they're points of fierce pain on the side of his neck and the fragile curve of his skull.
Dean drags a shocked breath in the darkness. He feels like his skin is burning, crawling with electricity and sweat.
"Yes."
Castiel hand relaxes, warm and human again and it slides down his neck, sweeps slowly over the long bending line of his back, then eases to a stop on the curve of his ass.
"Oh, Jesus, Cas -"
A sharp slap cuts the word off and Dean jumps under the force of it, ass stinging, fucking stinging.
"Blasphemy will not be tolerated," Castiel says simply, hard and certain that Dean won't need to be told again. Dean's too busy dragging breath after breath, cock heavy and hot and too hard. His thighs twitch when Castiel's hand glides over the back of them. The sensation is slow, curious. But Dean can feel the quiet tension.
"Do it, just fucking do it if you're gonna, don't leave me like this." The words are a garbled mess, mouth too wet and too desperate for air.
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timeasmymeasure
We Break Each Other, Castiel/Dean. NC-17, Part 1
Date: 2010-01-08 06:26 pm (UTC)By the end of the day Dean can't hold back any more. He's too bright, too restless, adrenaline a wire in his spine that won't let him rest, won't let him relax.
Castiel lays a hand on his arm.
"You should calm down, this solves nothing."
"Maybe you should make me," Dean spits.
Castiel's fingers bite in, an edge of unexpected pain and Dean stills and gasps and, yeah, that's it. That flash of frustrated anger is what he wants and he pulls, gives one great jerk hard enough to hurt and Castiel...doesn't let go.
"Is this what you want from me?" Castiel demands, voice careful and heavy and flat. But there's a flicker of something almost wild in his eyes. Blue drowning in black - and Jesus Dean doesn't want to think that, can't think that.
But there in Castiel's face is something hard, something certain, something prepared to give him whatever he wants and Dean swallows, rough and hard, too quick.
"Yes." It's quiet and honest and stupid, damn stupid.
It's how he ends up on the floor, clothes stripped from him in quick, efficient movements. Not resisting any of it. Until he's left on his knees on the carpet, skin prickling in the cool air, breathing tension and anger and unwilling arousal.
Castiel's hand is so fucking strong on the back of his neck, impossible to push again, impossible to resist, and Dean almost chokes on trying. It pushes all the way down, presses until his forehead touches the floor
"Are you penitent?" Castiel asks smoothly.
"Cas-"
"Answer me." The fingers tighten, until they're points of fierce pain on the side of his neck and the fragile curve of his skull.
Dean drags a shocked breath in the darkness. He feels like his skin is burning, crawling with electricity and sweat.
"Yes."
Castiel hand relaxes, warm and human again and it slides down his neck, sweeps slowly over the long bending line of his back, then eases to a stop on the curve of his ass.
"Oh, Jesus, Cas -"
A sharp slap cuts the word off and Dean jumps under the force of it, ass stinging, fucking stinging.
"Blasphemy will not be tolerated," Castiel says simply, hard and certain that Dean won't need to be told again. Dean's too busy dragging breath after breath, cock heavy and hot and too hard. His thighs twitch when Castiel's hand glides over the back of them. The sensation is slow, curious. But Dean can feel the quiet tension.
"Do it, just fucking do it if you're gonna, don't leave me like this." The words are a garbled mess, mouth too wet and too desperate for air.
Castiel makes a soft noise.