fic: MMOM #16: Bliss (Dean/Castiel)
Title: Bliss
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Dean, Sam, and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 1150
Notes: *** SPOILERS FOR 4.22 *** Post-4.22 reunion sex fic (I’m guessing I’ll write 25 of these before the summer is over, ha.) Cas and Dean have synchronous sex (loudly) in a hotel room next to Sam.
When they kiss, Dean doesn’t even pretend to be quiet. He moans.
For once, for once, his faith in someone paid off, and Cas is his. Not god’s. Not Heaven’s. His.
Dean strokes Castiel’s face and kisses him open-mouthed, not caring that he’s acting like a teenager.
Cas pushes him against the wall and just stares, their bodies pressed together. They breathe and stare and hold each other’s gaze without thought.
Dean tilts his head, extending his neck to press his lips to Castiel’s, soft little pecks. Castiel teases him, grinding his body against him and running his tongue across Dean’s lips, dipping his tongue inside.
Castiel pulls back to look at Dean’s lips. Then does it again. Dean moans after the second time, but he keeps doing it, teasing him, just because he can. A little smile curves at the corner of Castiel’s mouth.
Then Dean takes his head in his hands again, runs his fingers all the way through thick dark hair. “You’re trying to make me your helpless bitch, huh?”
Castiel leans in. “I’m just making you mine.” He still manages to be deadpan with the soft skin of Dean’s neck between his teeth.
Dean sweeps his gaze across the ceiling, unfocused. He closes his eyes down to slits at the feel of a bite, and moans.
Then they’re on their knees, crotch and belly and chest touching. Cas grabs his ass, so Dean grabs back, and it’s the perfect thing. Cas is holding onto Dean so tight, pressing his face into Dean’s neck so hard, he’s pinned by it.
Dean grabs Castiel’s hair and tries to pull him off, but he can’t make Cas do anything. He breathes hot ragged breaths all over the angel’s shoulders and the nape of his neck, learning a new kind of patience.
When he finally releases Dean, Castiel holds his chin up and looks down his nose at Dean. Normally, on a human, it’s a look of disdain. If Cas’ expressions were human. But they were just Cas, purely Cas. When Castiel looked down his nose at him, it meant validation, praise, pride. The equivalent of his father’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing.
“Cas…,” and Dean just wants to ask him why? The same question over and over - Why me?
But he already knows what Castiel will say, and it’s not an answer, and he doesn’t want to be as pathetic as all this sounds.
Still, it’s hard to think Cas wants nothing more than to hold his ass in his hands, to claim him, and look at him with pride from across a lifetime of watching, and say, plainly, “Dean?”
“What do you want me to do?” And Dean can’t help it, he’s resigned to sounding pathetic tonight.
Cas just blinks at that, but he doesn’t drop his gaze. Castiel hasn’t hidden his gaze from Dean since he turned him around in the Heaven room and slapped a hand over his mouth hard and won back his trust with a look.
And then the angel does deliberately drop his gaze, all the way down Dean’s torso to where their hard cocks pulse against each other. And raises his eyes all the way up again, until he’s looking down at Dean’s wide-open eyes, the widening part of his lips.
Dean feels like a child, but he could swear he feels his cock jump under his clothes. This is a lightheaded inferno. Something close to bliss.
So when Castiel forcefully moves over Dean to remove his clothes, roam his hands everywhere, Dean lets him.
He lets Castiel grip his ass and pull him down onto his cock over and over again without any humanly pause. Bliss.
The whole rest of his body feels numb in comparison to the heat of Castiel shoving his way into him. Castiel’s gaze is all over Dean and nothing but deliberate, and Dean can’t imagine doing anything besides calling the angel’s name and taking it taking it taking it.
This is forceful Cas, fucking him, staring into his eyes, fucking like a superhero. This is his guardian angel, with him his whole life and yet never known to him in this way. Never even known to him at all, until the day when Dean had stabbed him in the heart.
It builds and builds and builds on the bed, the enjoyment of it, the knowledge of it. Is dangerous. This knowledge is dangerous enough to be warned against. It makes them want to tear themselves down and build themselves back up as a way to praise this, and all that it means. It is a kind of praise Cas recognizes, if not the form. It’s the kind he can practice now, in the absence of his Father.
With a frustrated sob, Castiel stops, and finally drops his gaze from Dean. He’s still buried in Dean’s body, his eyes cowed and lowered.
But Dean won’t let him. He grabs Castiel’s chin and turns his head toward him. He hunts his eyes down with his own, searches and demands his attention. And holds it.
When he has it, Dean starts to move again, rocking his body between his left foot - clamped under Castiel’s arm - and his right knee - tight at Castiel’s side - rocking rocking rocking. Dean grips underneath Castiel’s ass with one hand to angle his steel-hard cock just right, and demands the angel’s gaze with his other hand on his chin, gripping tight.
Castiel remains held like that, both of Dean’s hands tightening on his body as Dean moves faster and faster, in shorter and shorter bursts, crying louder and louder, until their release hits them both, together.
Castiel screams in the same breath Dean does, together. And Dean’s screams go on and on.
Cas goes silent, but he writhes on the bed He holds his hands to his head like he wants to rend his face in two, and shakes his head, as if shaking off an electric shock. Too much, too much.
They are surprised by his their own bodies, their complete synchronicity. Because they feel it all. They feel it all.
Their eyes are wide, tuned into each other like a radio. Dean doesn’t want to blink, ever again. He is amazed. And this is different, this is new. This is what they need - what they had needed - all along.
*
Sam awakes in the dark hotel room to the sound of thumping, shouts. He listens, wonders for a split second if Dean needs his help, and decides that he doesn’t even want to ask himself that question. Dean’s ok. Dean’s ok. Dean’s ok. Better off without him. He pulls the sheets over his head and listens to the rhythmic thumping on the wall, hears the voice screaming now and knows it’s Dean’s. He matches the rhythm to the beating of his own cock, and it’s hard and harsh and fast and it’s just what he needs.
The End
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Dean, Sam, and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 1150
Notes: *** SPOILERS FOR 4.22 *** Post-4.22 reunion sex fic (I’m guessing I’ll write 25 of these before the summer is over, ha.) Cas and Dean have synchronous sex (loudly) in a hotel room next to Sam.
When they kiss, Dean doesn’t even pretend to be quiet. He moans.
For once, for once, his faith in someone paid off, and Cas is his. Not god’s. Not Heaven’s. His.
Dean strokes Castiel’s face and kisses him open-mouthed, not caring that he’s acting like a teenager.
Cas pushes him against the wall and just stares, their bodies pressed together. They breathe and stare and hold each other’s gaze without thought.
Dean tilts his head, extending his neck to press his lips to Castiel’s, soft little pecks. Castiel teases him, grinding his body against him and running his tongue across Dean’s lips, dipping his tongue inside.
Castiel pulls back to look at Dean’s lips. Then does it again. Dean moans after the second time, but he keeps doing it, teasing him, just because he can. A little smile curves at the corner of Castiel’s mouth.
Then Dean takes his head in his hands again, runs his fingers all the way through thick dark hair. “You’re trying to make me your helpless bitch, huh?”
Castiel leans in. “I’m just making you mine.” He still manages to be deadpan with the soft skin of Dean’s neck between his teeth.
Dean sweeps his gaze across the ceiling, unfocused. He closes his eyes down to slits at the feel of a bite, and moans.
Then they’re on their knees, crotch and belly and chest touching. Cas grabs his ass, so Dean grabs back, and it’s the perfect thing. Cas is holding onto Dean so tight, pressing his face into Dean’s neck so hard, he’s pinned by it.
Dean grabs Castiel’s hair and tries to pull him off, but he can’t make Cas do anything. He breathes hot ragged breaths all over the angel’s shoulders and the nape of his neck, learning a new kind of patience.
When he finally releases Dean, Castiel holds his chin up and looks down his nose at Dean. Normally, on a human, it’s a look of disdain. If Cas’ expressions were human. But they were just Cas, purely Cas. When Castiel looked down his nose at him, it meant validation, praise, pride. The equivalent of his father’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing.
“Cas…,” and Dean just wants to ask him why? The same question over and over - Why me?
But he already knows what Castiel will say, and it’s not an answer, and he doesn’t want to be as pathetic as all this sounds.
Still, it’s hard to think Cas wants nothing more than to hold his ass in his hands, to claim him, and look at him with pride from across a lifetime of watching, and say, plainly, “Dean?”
“What do you want me to do?” And Dean can’t help it, he’s resigned to sounding pathetic tonight.
Cas just blinks at that, but he doesn’t drop his gaze. Castiel hasn’t hidden his gaze from Dean since he turned him around in the Heaven room and slapped a hand over his mouth hard and won back his trust with a look.
And then the angel does deliberately drop his gaze, all the way down Dean’s torso to where their hard cocks pulse against each other. And raises his eyes all the way up again, until he’s looking down at Dean’s wide-open eyes, the widening part of his lips.
Dean feels like a child, but he could swear he feels his cock jump under his clothes. This is a lightheaded inferno. Something close to bliss.
So when Castiel forcefully moves over Dean to remove his clothes, roam his hands everywhere, Dean lets him.
He lets Castiel grip his ass and pull him down onto his cock over and over again without any humanly pause. Bliss.
The whole rest of his body feels numb in comparison to the heat of Castiel shoving his way into him. Castiel’s gaze is all over Dean and nothing but deliberate, and Dean can’t imagine doing anything besides calling the angel’s name and taking it taking it taking it.
This is forceful Cas, fucking him, staring into his eyes, fucking like a superhero. This is his guardian angel, with him his whole life and yet never known to him in this way. Never even known to him at all, until the day when Dean had stabbed him in the heart.
It builds and builds and builds on the bed, the enjoyment of it, the knowledge of it. Is dangerous. This knowledge is dangerous enough to be warned against. It makes them want to tear themselves down and build themselves back up as a way to praise this, and all that it means. It is a kind of praise Cas recognizes, if not the form. It’s the kind he can practice now, in the absence of his Father.
With a frustrated sob, Castiel stops, and finally drops his gaze from Dean. He’s still buried in Dean’s body, his eyes cowed and lowered.
But Dean won’t let him. He grabs Castiel’s chin and turns his head toward him. He hunts his eyes down with his own, searches and demands his attention. And holds it.
When he has it, Dean starts to move again, rocking his body between his left foot - clamped under Castiel’s arm - and his right knee - tight at Castiel’s side - rocking rocking rocking. Dean grips underneath Castiel’s ass with one hand to angle his steel-hard cock just right, and demands the angel’s gaze with his other hand on his chin, gripping tight.
Castiel remains held like that, both of Dean’s hands tightening on his body as Dean moves faster and faster, in shorter and shorter bursts, crying louder and louder, until their release hits them both, together.
Castiel screams in the same breath Dean does, together. And Dean’s screams go on and on.
Cas goes silent, but he writhes on the bed He holds his hands to his head like he wants to rend his face in two, and shakes his head, as if shaking off an electric shock. Too much, too much.
They are surprised by his their own bodies, their complete synchronicity. Because they feel it all. They feel it all.
Their eyes are wide, tuned into each other like a radio. Dean doesn’t want to blink, ever again. He is amazed. And this is different, this is new. This is what they need - what they had needed - all along.
*
Sam awakes in the dark hotel room to the sound of thumping, shouts. He listens, wonders for a split second if Dean needs his help, and decides that he doesn’t even want to ask himself that question. Dean’s ok. Dean’s ok. Dean’s ok. Better off without him. He pulls the sheets over his head and listens to the rhythmic thumping on the wall, hears the voice screaming now and knows it’s Dean’s. He matches the rhythm to the beating of his own cock, and it’s hard and harsh and fast and it’s just what he needs.
The End