[FIC] Suppliant on your curious knees (R) for Bold_Seer
Gift type: Fanfic
Title: Suppliant on your curious knees
Recipient: bold_seer
Author: moonlettuce
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: It's over and they won, and Cas is on his knees in front of him...
Author notes: I went for the following prompt: "Come and kneel with me, body and soul." - Tori Amos, Body and Soul. The title is from the DH Lawrence poem, Tease.
Suppliant on your curious knees
Dean's not entirely sure how the two of them end up in the bedroom he's claimed for himself, clothes scattered where he dropped them (because, according to Sam, the one thing Dad had never managed to instil in Dean was how to pick up after himself) with the bed still unmade from the last time Dean was in here. (Since he hadn't been entirely sure he was about to survive the next 24 hours, he sure as fuck hadn't been prepared to waste his possible last morning on earth screwing around with sheets and military corners when he could be screwing around with Cas.)
He can still hear the muted sounds of celebration in the air, even though the hotel is old enough that the solid wood of the doors should block out most noise. Still, though, it's fighting against the utter fucking relief of people who've just survived the apocalypse, fighting against people who half expected not to see the coming dawn and are still kinda surprised that they actually won.
Even if it's not like they came through completely unscathed. There's ash dancing in the air, and Dean's pretty sure the dull orange glow to the west is Vegas, empty of life and still burning as the wind brings the smell of smoke and death and hundred other things Dean doesn't want to think about right now.
But even with that, with some of the dead still lying on the ground and some of the cities still alight, it's over. Lucifer is locked back in the pit, the remaining demons who had flocked to his cause (and there were plenty that decided, wisely, as it turns out, to stay the fuck away) have scattered and it's fucking over.
"There's still much to do." Cas's voice is low, careful, and Dean knows he's right. There is still too much to do. They need to bury their dead and mourn their losses and chase down the evil sons of bitches they didn't get. But not tonight.
A slow smirk crosses Cas's face, and Dean thinks he should be pissed but Sam's got him more than half convinced it's an expression Cas picked up off Dean in the first place, and so he's not allowed to be annoyed when the angel turns it back on him. "No, Dean, not tonight."
And Dean's not sure if it's useful or just really fucking annoying having a-- Dean's mind stumbles slightly because he's just not willing to sound like a 13 year old girl by calling Cas his boyfriend. Anyway, having a whatever the fuck Cas is, that can read his mind.
But if Cas is reading him right now then he's ignoring Dean's vocabulary issues. Ignoring them as he steps forward, closes the distance between them and drops to his knees, movements graceful and silent. (Dean's had a lot of people go to their knees for him, and the locations may have changed from dirty back alleys to penthouse suites, but there's been no one no one, who has ever done it like Cas).
"Dean--"
Cas is looking at him, just fucking looking at him, blue eyes bright, even in the artificial light of the room.
"Cas--" Because his angel is there, on his knees and staring at Dean like his quest for God is finally over, and that has Dean harder than a fucking rock. "C'mon--" And he doesn't mind begging, not for this, not if it gets Cas's lips wrapped around him.
Only Cas doesn't move, just continues to look at him, head tilted slightly and soft smile playing on his lips.
"Cas, please--" Because Dean's dick is about to drill a hole through his jeans. He drops a hand to his belt, fingers barely touching the leather before Cas stops him with a single word.
"Don't--"
But Dean wouldn't have to, not if Cas would just do something. Bastard.
Time moves like molasses, the hotel door solid against Dean's back as he waits to Cas to do something, anything.
And finally, fucking finally, Cas moves, hands reaching out and fingers undoing Dean's belt, like they have a hundred times before. Buttons popping and denim peeled back, and Dean can't help the hiss that escapes him as the air hits his overheated cock. Can't help the hiss as Cas leans forwards and engulfs him, barely giving Dean time to adjust from cool air to warm and moist.
"Jesus, fuck--" The words drown out the sound of Dean's head banging back against the door as Cas just fucking swallows him to the root.
Cas's mouth is hot and perfect and Dean can't stop his hips from thrusting, can't stop himself from sliding down Cas's throat. And Cas just takes it, kneels there with his hands on Dean's thighs and just fucking takes it.
"Cas--" Name groaned into the air as Dean's hands tangle through Cas's hair, strands catching between his fingers as his grip tightens suddenly, reaction of Cas's hand moving between his legs, to just under his balls and pushing.
It's enough; enough to make Dean come with Cas's tongue moving over his cock and his balls being rubbed by the seam in his jeans that's just barely cushioned by the old, soft cotton of his boxers. There's part of Dean that thinks he should be embarrassed at coming quicker than he ever has since he was fourteen, but he's been on the edge since he felt the blood of Lucifer's vessel running thick and hot through his fingers, been on the edge since Cas's thumb swiped at the blood running over his cheek. He's been on the edge since Lucifer fell and the demons screamed and the Host broke away from the rest of them, sweeping through the demons that had been so desperately trying to stop them and burning them out of the people they had taken.
So he lets it take him, balls clenching and hips jerking and emptying himself down Cas's throat until there's nothing more to give. His cock slips from Cas's lips, sticky and softening as a dribble of come escapes from the corner of Cas's mouth, chased by a tongue that darts out to catch it as Cas looks up at him, blue meeting green.
Dean slides to the ground, partly because he wants to look Cas in the eyes and partly because his legs won't support him any more. He doesn't say anything as he reaches out, hands slipping into Cas's trench coat and pushing it off his shoulders, Cas's careful shrug puddling the coat behind him. Wrapping his fingers around Cas's tie, Dean tugs his angel closer, their lips barely brushing each other before Dean leans forward, his forehead resting against Cas's.
They made it. They made it and Sam made it and Bobby made it and a whole fucking world that Dean thought he was going to watch burn made it. The celebration is still going on outside, with shouting and laughter and alcohol they got from fuck knows where. And that's Sam's voice he hears in the midst of it all, loud and raucous and gloriously fucking alive, which means they've got tequila out there as well, because Sammy only loses his shit like that when he's wasted and chasing every shot with a lime.
But that's out there and they're in here and there's one more thing Dean needs to do, one more question burning inside him.
"You stickin' around?" Because he's got to ask, even if he's not sure he wants to hear the answer. Got to ask because he's already heard some other angels talking of returning to Heaven, already heard some of the other angels talking about staying. And he's not a chick, but he's got to know.
"Of course." Cas's voice is sure, unhesitating, like there was never going to be any other answer.
And Dean Winchester, vanquisher of Lucifer, Sword of fucking no one but his goddamn self, thank you very much, and saviour of the whole friggin' world, just holds on to his angel that little bit tighter and breathes.
Title: Suppliant on your curious knees
Recipient: bold_seer
Author: moonlettuce
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: It's over and they won, and Cas is on his knees in front of him...
Author notes: I went for the following prompt: "Come and kneel with me, body and soul." - Tori Amos, Body and Soul. The title is from the DH Lawrence poem, Tease.
Suppliant on your curious knees
Dean's not entirely sure how the two of them end up in the bedroom he's claimed for himself, clothes scattered where he dropped them (because, according to Sam, the one thing Dad had never managed to instil in Dean was how to pick up after himself) with the bed still unmade from the last time Dean was in here. (Since he hadn't been entirely sure he was about to survive the next 24 hours, he sure as fuck hadn't been prepared to waste his possible last morning on earth screwing around with sheets and military corners when he could be screwing around with Cas.)
He can still hear the muted sounds of celebration in the air, even though the hotel is old enough that the solid wood of the doors should block out most noise. Still, though, it's fighting against the utter fucking relief of people who've just survived the apocalypse, fighting against people who half expected not to see the coming dawn and are still kinda surprised that they actually won.
Even if it's not like they came through completely unscathed. There's ash dancing in the air, and Dean's pretty sure the dull orange glow to the west is Vegas, empty of life and still burning as the wind brings the smell of smoke and death and hundred other things Dean doesn't want to think about right now.
But even with that, with some of the dead still lying on the ground and some of the cities still alight, it's over. Lucifer is locked back in the pit, the remaining demons who had flocked to his cause (and there were plenty that decided, wisely, as it turns out, to stay the fuck away) have scattered and it's fucking over.
"There's still much to do." Cas's voice is low, careful, and Dean knows he's right. There is still too much to do. They need to bury their dead and mourn their losses and chase down the evil sons of bitches they didn't get. But not tonight.
A slow smirk crosses Cas's face, and Dean thinks he should be pissed but Sam's got him more than half convinced it's an expression Cas picked up off Dean in the first place, and so he's not allowed to be annoyed when the angel turns it back on him. "No, Dean, not tonight."
And Dean's not sure if it's useful or just really fucking annoying having a-- Dean's mind stumbles slightly because he's just not willing to sound like a 13 year old girl by calling Cas his boyfriend. Anyway, having a whatever the fuck Cas is, that can read his mind.
But if Cas is reading him right now then he's ignoring Dean's vocabulary issues. Ignoring them as he steps forward, closes the distance between them and drops to his knees, movements graceful and silent. (Dean's had a lot of people go to their knees for him, and the locations may have changed from dirty back alleys to penthouse suites, but there's been no one no one, who has ever done it like Cas).
"Dean--"
Cas is looking at him, just fucking looking at him, blue eyes bright, even in the artificial light of the room.
"Cas--" Because his angel is there, on his knees and staring at Dean like his quest for God is finally over, and that has Dean harder than a fucking rock. "C'mon--" And he doesn't mind begging, not for this, not if it gets Cas's lips wrapped around him.
Only Cas doesn't move, just continues to look at him, head tilted slightly and soft smile playing on his lips.
"Cas, please--" Because Dean's dick is about to drill a hole through his jeans. He drops a hand to his belt, fingers barely touching the leather before Cas stops him with a single word.
"Don't--"
But Dean wouldn't have to, not if Cas would just do something. Bastard.
Time moves like molasses, the hotel door solid against Dean's back as he waits to Cas to do something, anything.
And finally, fucking finally, Cas moves, hands reaching out and fingers undoing Dean's belt, like they have a hundred times before. Buttons popping and denim peeled back, and Dean can't help the hiss that escapes him as the air hits his overheated cock. Can't help the hiss as Cas leans forwards and engulfs him, barely giving Dean time to adjust from cool air to warm and moist.
"Jesus, fuck--" The words drown out the sound of Dean's head banging back against the door as Cas just fucking swallows him to the root.
Cas's mouth is hot and perfect and Dean can't stop his hips from thrusting, can't stop himself from sliding down Cas's throat. And Cas just takes it, kneels there with his hands on Dean's thighs and just fucking takes it.
"Cas--" Name groaned into the air as Dean's hands tangle through Cas's hair, strands catching between his fingers as his grip tightens suddenly, reaction of Cas's hand moving between his legs, to just under his balls and pushing.
It's enough; enough to make Dean come with Cas's tongue moving over his cock and his balls being rubbed by the seam in his jeans that's just barely cushioned by the old, soft cotton of his boxers. There's part of Dean that thinks he should be embarrassed at coming quicker than he ever has since he was fourteen, but he's been on the edge since he felt the blood of Lucifer's vessel running thick and hot through his fingers, been on the edge since Cas's thumb swiped at the blood running over his cheek. He's been on the edge since Lucifer fell and the demons screamed and the Host broke away from the rest of them, sweeping through the demons that had been so desperately trying to stop them and burning them out of the people they had taken.
So he lets it take him, balls clenching and hips jerking and emptying himself down Cas's throat until there's nothing more to give. His cock slips from Cas's lips, sticky and softening as a dribble of come escapes from the corner of Cas's mouth, chased by a tongue that darts out to catch it as Cas looks up at him, blue meeting green.
Dean slides to the ground, partly because he wants to look Cas in the eyes and partly because his legs won't support him any more. He doesn't say anything as he reaches out, hands slipping into Cas's trench coat and pushing it off his shoulders, Cas's careful shrug puddling the coat behind him. Wrapping his fingers around Cas's tie, Dean tugs his angel closer, their lips barely brushing each other before Dean leans forward, his forehead resting against Cas's.
They made it. They made it and Sam made it and Bobby made it and a whole fucking world that Dean thought he was going to watch burn made it. The celebration is still going on outside, with shouting and laughter and alcohol they got from fuck knows where. And that's Sam's voice he hears in the midst of it all, loud and raucous and gloriously fucking alive, which means they've got tequila out there as well, because Sammy only loses his shit like that when he's wasted and chasing every shot with a lime.
But that's out there and they're in here and there's one more thing Dean needs to do, one more question burning inside him.
"You stickin' around?" Because he's got to ask, even if he's not sure he wants to hear the answer. Got to ask because he's already heard some other angels talking of returning to Heaven, already heard some of the other angels talking about staying. And he's not a chick, but he's got to know.
"Of course." Cas's voice is sure, unhesitating, like there was never going to be any other answer.
And Dean Winchester, vanquisher of Lucifer, Sword of fucking no one but his goddamn self, thank you very much, and saviour of the whole friggin' world, just holds on to his angel that little bit tighter and breathes.