Jump the Track time stamp # 2: Surrender
Length - 3,034
Rating - NC-17
Summary - Set during Dean and Castiel's road trip before college. Dean finally feels comfortable enough to let Cas take charge in bed.
Warnings - Spoilers for Jump the Track (though can be read alone). Sex. Lots and lots of sex.
Dean liked the place they were staying in. As a whole, the places they’d stopped at in New England had been a little too... twee for his tastes, but this was nice. They were in Maine, and the weather was pleasantly cool. Dean had insisted that they spend a little more than usual on accommodation, and so rather than the slightly seedy motel room with an inadequate A/C system they usually ended up in, they were in a little cabin with a nice bathroom and a separate bedroom and living area.
Dean was in the bath, and nerves were making his stomach flutter which, he kept telling himself, was stupid. He dipped down so that the water covered his head, liking how it felt like he was safe and protected, like he was cut off from the world. It made him feel calmer. He resurfaced, inhaling deeply, feeling the water run back over his face.
Castiel would be back soon.
Dean had never been one for planning things; he was a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy, and he could do no amount of crazy shit on impulse without experiencing a moment’s trepidation, but if he knew in advance that he was going to do something, he got the jitters. But then, sometimes it couldn’t be helped, and this was one of those instances. He wanted this to go right. It was pretty fucking important that it did.
Dean toweled himself dry, and pulled on one of the thick toweling bathrobes the motel provided. It was soft against his bare skin, and Dean felt clean and new, in a way he’d thought was lost to him forever.
He left the bathroom at the same time Castiel was coming in through the front door, a mist of rain in his hair, unsuccessfully trying to hide a bulging brown paper bag beneath his trenchcoat.
Dean grinned. “In an ideal world, you’d be trying to sneak in a stash of porn. You bought more books, didn’t you?”
Castiel shot him a guilty look. “I can’t help it if New England is full of used book stores. There was a first edition of To the Lighthouse, and a beautiful copy of Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs du Mal that had-”
“Okay, okay!” Dean protested. “Just... there is a limit to how many books we’re gonna be able to fit in the car!”
Castiel looked at him sheepishly. “I’ll try to exercise some constraint.”
“Come here.” Dean reached out a hand and pulled Castiel towards him. Cas’s skin was cool, and Dean was really glad he’d come back.
Castiel ran a hand soothingly over his back, lightly kissing the side of his neck where the skin was still warm and damp from the bath. “Are you alright?” he asked. “You seem... I don’t know.”
“I’ve been, you know... thinking.”
“Thinking?”
There was a note of panic in Castiel’s voice, and it made Dean laugh. “Nothing bad! I was just thinking that maybe we could... well, you know that thing we’ve been leading up to?”
Cas pulled back, looking a little nervous himself. Dean knew he didn’t need to elaborate: there was only one thing he could possibly be referring to.
Dean’s issues with control had been a bone of contention for some time now. At least, they had been for Dean. He’d been growing increasingly frustrated with himself, and he was still a little amazed with how patient Castiel had been about it. Dean had wanted to just be able to do it. He’d wanted to be able to trust Castiel with his body the way that Cas had trusted Dean with his, and he hated that it was so hard, because it wasn’t like he didn’t trust Cas. Hell, he trusted Cas with his life, so why was this so hard? Most of all, he’d hated that he couldn’t just move on from what had happened with Alastair, that it was still holding him back, tainting what he had with Castiel.
Cas had been amazing, and Dean was the first to admit that. If he’d been at all infuriated by Dean’s slow progress, he hadn’t shown it. He’d insisted that they took things slowly, gradually getting Dean used to giving up control, one step at a time. Dean hoped Castiel knew how grateful he was.
“Dean,” Castiel said slowly. “You shouldn’t let the room pressurize you.”
Dean blinked. “The... the room?”
“Just because we’re staying somewhere nice, it doesn’t mean you have to-”
“Nooo!” Dean laughed. “Cas, I wanted us to stay some place nicer because I wanted this to happen. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. And I... I know we’ve been, you know, leading up to it, and I want to. I... I want you to know that I...”
Castiel pulled Dean close by the belt of his bath robe. “I do know.”
“Yeah, but...” Dean rested their foreheads together. “When I’m inside you, it’s the best feeling in the world. And not just because, you know, it feels good. It’s cause you’re... you’re trusting me with that. You’re trusting me to make you feel good, and not to hurt you, and you’re... you’re letting me be inside your body. And I want to do that for you. I want you to know what that feels like, and I want to just... I need it. I want to not be... in control the whole time. So if you want to, I’d... I’d really like to do this.”
Cas’s hand was on his cheek, gently caressing, and Dean leaned into it, letting the touch steady him. “If you need me to stop, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
Dean nodded. He trusted Castiel. He trusted Castiel more than he feared surrender.
Castiel had beautiful hands. Dean had noticed that pretty early on, but it was what those hands could do to him that had been the revelation. Long fingers seeking out Dean’s flesh, probing under the soft fabric of his terrycloth bathrobe, peeling it away. It was strange how erotic it was, Castiel still being fully clothed, how his trenchcoat was cool and a little rough against Dean’s naked skin. Cas pushed the robe off Dean’s shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. His hands skimmed over Dean’s body almost reverently, and Dean shuddered against him.
He could feel his heart thudding as he led Castiel over to the bed. It wasn’t really that he was nervous about the act itself. He’d thought about it enough, planned it enough. What he was nervous about was the possibility that the old panic would rear up again, that he’d have to get out, that he’d spoil everything.
Dean didn’t want to spoil everything. This was Castiel’s first time doing this, too.
Cas shrugged off his coat and pulled his sweater off over his head.
The bed was soft, and Dean sunk down onto it, making his body relaxed and pliable. He hooked a finger through the belt loop of Cas’s pants, pulling him down. Castiel’s mouth was hot and wet on Dean’s throat, a prickle of stubble on his collarbone. He shivered. It was going to be okay.
It had been on Castiel’s insistence that they’d taken things as slow as they had. Dean, frustrated, had snapped a couple of times. “Just do it!” he’d yelled. “Just... just do it! Fix me already! I know you want it, and I- I don’t want to- I don’t want this hanging over me any more!” Castiel had just held him. He didn’t want to do anything, he’d said, unless Dean wanted it completely too. He didn’t want to force it, or make it into something that was only about what had happened to Dean before. They would take it one step at a time, gradually soothing away the shadows in Dean’s past.
Just kissing at first. Kissing with Castiel lying on top, kissing until Dean relaxed, got used to the weight holding him down, until he’d begun to enjoy it. They’d progressed since then, very slowly, until just a couple of weeks ago Dean had finally felt comfortable enough to let Castiel use his fingers inside him during what turned out to be the best head of his life. He wanted this.
Fingers skimmed down Dean’s chest, making his skin jump. He shifted up the bed a little so that he could stretch out properly. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes as Cas began to kiss a path down his chest. He could feel himself growing hard. He remembered telling Cas months ago when they had only been together for a few weeks, that the trick was not to think. To just trust your body and do what felt right. Dean decided to take his own advice now. He wasn’t going to let himself overanalyze what was happening or what might happen, he would just concentrate on the sensations, how good it felt when Cas touched him, how it made Dean’s body flush with pleasure.
Dean started to squirm. Cas hadn’t even moved lower than his waist yet, and Dean was getting impatient for more. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could cope with this long, slow tease. He spoke Castiel’s name, his voice already ragged. He felt Cas smile against his hipbone.
Castiel’s mouth came as a surprise, engulfing him suddenly, warm and wet and tight, so that Dean gasped and arched up off the bed. Cas made a soft humming noise, and the vibrations made Dean whimper. Cas had gotten extremely good at this, and he knew it. He knew all the tricks, all the little things that would cause Dean to lose it. Dean clutched at the bed sheets; the slow, steady suction of Cas’s mouth was making him dizzy. Just as Dean was starting to feel concerned that he wasn’t going to make it to the actual sex, Cas pulled off.
He moved up the bed, losing his pants and socks in the process, and kissed Dean hard. Dean didn’t think he’d ever stop being thrilled by this - their two bodies pressed together so close, wanting to wrap himself up in Castiel, never feeling like they were touching enough.
Dean had been fully prepared, setting out condoms and a bottle of lubricant by the pillow, and Castiel reached for it now, flipping the little cap up and squeezing some of the cool liquid onto his fingers. Dean sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. His eyes stayed on Castiel, watched as he leaned in for another kiss.
It was cold at first, and Dean forced himself to relax once more until he was used to the sensation. Castiel kissed him so gently, and Dean got lost in the sensations, the familiar touch of Cas’s lips and tongue easing him through the more alien feeling of fingers being worked inside him. It didn’t hurt. The way Cas looked at him, the way he touched him... Cas could never hurt Dean.
Dean got lost in the kiss, safe in the knowledge that he was being taken care of, that he didn’t have to fight or be strong because Cas was there. It was sending electric shocks through him, the thing Castiel was doing with his fingers, and Dean knew that the sounds he was making weren’t very dignified.
“Get on top of me,” Cas said, his voice thick.
“Huh?”
Castiel pulled back a little; his pupils were blown wide. “Get on top of me. You’ll... you’ll feel more in control that way.”
Dean had a horrible feeling that he was going to cry, but he managed to suppress it. He flipped them both over so that he was straddling Castiel’s hips.
He was aware of every one of his nerve endings, and at the same time he felt almost... detached, like this was all a dream. It was a good feeling, like nothing existed apart from that moment, and there was no one else in the world besides him and Castiel. He could feel Cas pressing up against him, hard and insistent, and Dean sunk down onto him slowly. He’d expected it to hurt, but it didn’t really. It kind of burned, and it felt strange to be stretched and filled like this, but there wasn’t any actual pain. He was panting hard. Castiel’s eyes were wide and startled.
Dean rocked his hips experimentally, and Cas made a soft, helpless noise.
Dean laughed breathlessly. This was actually happening, and it was fine. More than fine. Dean’s body felt electric and alive in a way it hadn’t before, and it was almost too much. He felt suddenly vulnerable. Castiel’s hand, steady and soothing on his hip, grounded him again. Cas caressed him with a thumb, slowly guiding Dean back into that gentle rocking motion that sent jolts through his insides.
Dean looked down at him. Castiel’s cheeks were flushed and he was biting on his bottom lip so hard the surrounding skin was white. Dean knew what he was feeling, knew how overwhelming it was to be inside another person, the heat and the pressure and the long, slow glide of it. He put his hand over Cas’s and turned it round so he could lace their fingers together. Dean picked up the pace, just a little, and Castiel’s eyelids fluttered. They were in this together. This was theirs, something they were sharing, and of course it was going to feel like too much because it always did, but they had each other to hold on to, and it would be okay. Dean never took his eyes off Cas. He wanted to reassure him; Dean reminded himself that it wasn’t just his first attempt at this.
Castiel propped himself up on his elbow, and Dean leaned in to kiss him. It was harder to move like this, and Dean had reached a point where he felt like he’d go crazy from the feel of Cas inside him, but he needed to be closer to the other boy. Cas started to slowly thrust his hips upwards to meet Dean’s, and Dean moaned against his mouth, fingers digging into Cas’s skin, urging him on.
Yes. Don’t stop. I’m okay.
Dean marveled at how good it felt. Not just the physical sensations, but the way it made him feel. He’d learned to associate giving up control with pain and humiliation, but this was something different. Dean felt powerful and alive, he felt electric, he felt beautiful. The feeling of Cas, hard inside him, hearing him gasp and moan... it was mind blowing.
Dean was grateful that he hadn’t needed to ask Cas to be gentle. It was kind of embarrassing that that was what he needed, and he loved Cas for just knowing it without actually being told. Every movement he made was slow and tender, and Dean held onto him tightly, knowing how difficult it was to hold back like that, loving Cas for loving him enough to do it.
“Over,” Dean gasped. “Turn over. You... on top of me...” He couldn’t manage anything more coherent.
Castiel looked up at him questioningly for a moment, then wrapped an arm around Dean’s back and slowly turned them over, lowering Dean back onto the mattress. Dean sometimes forgot how strong Cas was. He hooked and arm under Dean’s knee and pushed into him slowly. The change in angle meant that Castiel was hitting Dean’s prostate on every stroke, and Dean made a soft keening noise, arching up off the bed.
Castiel reached down between their bodies and slowly started to jerk him off, and Dean lost it completely. The bed creaked loudly beneath them, and Dean twined his fingers into the sheets, just trying to get some purchase on something, as he gave himself over completely to Castiel, and the heat of their bodies, and the pleasure pounding inside of him.
He knew he was close, he knew he was going to come, but it felt different from usual. He could feel it building in his thighs, up his spine, and inside him, inside where Cas was thrusting into him, slow and hard, easing him towards climax. Cas was doing this for him, making love to him, healing and cherishing him.
All of Dean’s muscles clenched, and he came so hard he saw stars dancing in front of his eyes. The pleasure was so keen, so different, that Dean felt like he was going to pass out. He shuddered and moaned, blood pounding in his face, the jolts passing down his thighs, through his stomach.
I’ll die if this doesn’t stop soon.
Dean was dimly aware that Castiel was coming too, coming inside him, and it was so fucking perfect.
Castiel held onto him very tightly afterwards. Dean was slowly ebbing back into awareness, still riding out the little shocks that were modulating beautifully over his skin. He felt lightheaded, like he was floating and Cas was the only thing holding him down. He didn’t think he could move. Castiel’s heartbeat was gradually slowing down; he pulled away from Dean a little, burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.
Dean started to laugh softly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. He was safe and loved, and he wasn’t going to be afraid any more.
Castiel looked at him then, looked at him with so much tenderness that Dean’s heart clenched. Every time Cas looked at him like that, he hated himself a little less.
“It’s okay,” Cas whispered, brushing his fingers over Dean’s cheek. “It’s okay.”
Dean’s face was wet, and he realized that he was crying as well as laughing. Castiel was holding onto him tightly, and Dean needed him to not let go for a long time. He still felt shaky, and he was dimly aware that anything he tried to say would be unintelligible. Castiel stroked his face and kissed his eyes softly.
“It’s okay,” he breathed, his voice unsteady. He gathered Dean up in his arms and held him close against his chest. “Sleep for a while.”
Dean realized that he was exhausted. Castiel had the best ideas. He hooked a knee over Cas’s legs, closed his eyes, and slept.
This way to the Jump the Track timestamp masterpost!
Rating - NC-17
Summary - Set during Dean and Castiel's road trip before college. Dean finally feels comfortable enough to let Cas take charge in bed.
Warnings - Spoilers for Jump the Track (though can be read alone). Sex. Lots and lots of sex.
Dean liked the place they were staying in. As a whole, the places they’d stopped at in New England had been a little too... twee for his tastes, but this was nice. They were in Maine, and the weather was pleasantly cool. Dean had insisted that they spend a little more than usual on accommodation, and so rather than the slightly seedy motel room with an inadequate A/C system they usually ended up in, they were in a little cabin with a nice bathroom and a separate bedroom and living area.
Dean was in the bath, and nerves were making his stomach flutter which, he kept telling himself, was stupid. He dipped down so that the water covered his head, liking how it felt like he was safe and protected, like he was cut off from the world. It made him feel calmer. He resurfaced, inhaling deeply, feeling the water run back over his face.
Castiel would be back soon.
Dean had never been one for planning things; he was a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy, and he could do no amount of crazy shit on impulse without experiencing a moment’s trepidation, but if he knew in advance that he was going to do something, he got the jitters. But then, sometimes it couldn’t be helped, and this was one of those instances. He wanted this to go right. It was pretty fucking important that it did.
Dean toweled himself dry, and pulled on one of the thick toweling bathrobes the motel provided. It was soft against his bare skin, and Dean felt clean and new, in a way he’d thought was lost to him forever.
He left the bathroom at the same time Castiel was coming in through the front door, a mist of rain in his hair, unsuccessfully trying to hide a bulging brown paper bag beneath his trenchcoat.
Dean grinned. “In an ideal world, you’d be trying to sneak in a stash of porn. You bought more books, didn’t you?”
Castiel shot him a guilty look. “I can’t help it if New England is full of used book stores. There was a first edition of To the Lighthouse, and a beautiful copy of Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs du Mal that had-”
“Okay, okay!” Dean protested. “Just... there is a limit to how many books we’re gonna be able to fit in the car!”
Castiel looked at him sheepishly. “I’ll try to exercise some constraint.”
“Come here.” Dean reached out a hand and pulled Castiel towards him. Cas’s skin was cool, and Dean was really glad he’d come back.
Castiel ran a hand soothingly over his back, lightly kissing the side of his neck where the skin was still warm and damp from the bath. “Are you alright?” he asked. “You seem... I don’t know.”
“I’ve been, you know... thinking.”
“Thinking?”
There was a note of panic in Castiel’s voice, and it made Dean laugh. “Nothing bad! I was just thinking that maybe we could... well, you know that thing we’ve been leading up to?”
Cas pulled back, looking a little nervous himself. Dean knew he didn’t need to elaborate: there was only one thing he could possibly be referring to.
Dean’s issues with control had been a bone of contention for some time now. At least, they had been for Dean. He’d been growing increasingly frustrated with himself, and he was still a little amazed with how patient Castiel had been about it. Dean had wanted to just be able to do it. He’d wanted to be able to trust Castiel with his body the way that Cas had trusted Dean with his, and he hated that it was so hard, because it wasn’t like he didn’t trust Cas. Hell, he trusted Cas with his life, so why was this so hard? Most of all, he’d hated that he couldn’t just move on from what had happened with Alastair, that it was still holding him back, tainting what he had with Castiel.
Cas had been amazing, and Dean was the first to admit that. If he’d been at all infuriated by Dean’s slow progress, he hadn’t shown it. He’d insisted that they took things slowly, gradually getting Dean used to giving up control, one step at a time. Dean hoped Castiel knew how grateful he was.
“Dean,” Castiel said slowly. “You shouldn’t let the room pressurize you.”
Dean blinked. “The... the room?”
“Just because we’re staying somewhere nice, it doesn’t mean you have to-”
“Nooo!” Dean laughed. “Cas, I wanted us to stay some place nicer because I wanted this to happen. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. And I... I know we’ve been, you know, leading up to it, and I want to. I... I want you to know that I...”
Castiel pulled Dean close by the belt of his bath robe. “I do know.”
“Yeah, but...” Dean rested their foreheads together. “When I’m inside you, it’s the best feeling in the world. And not just because, you know, it feels good. It’s cause you’re... you’re trusting me with that. You’re trusting me to make you feel good, and not to hurt you, and you’re... you’re letting me be inside your body. And I want to do that for you. I want you to know what that feels like, and I want to just... I need it. I want to not be... in control the whole time. So if you want to, I’d... I’d really like to do this.”
Cas’s hand was on his cheek, gently caressing, and Dean leaned into it, letting the touch steady him. “If you need me to stop, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
Dean nodded. He trusted Castiel. He trusted Castiel more than he feared surrender.
Castiel had beautiful hands. Dean had noticed that pretty early on, but it was what those hands could do to him that had been the revelation. Long fingers seeking out Dean’s flesh, probing under the soft fabric of his terrycloth bathrobe, peeling it away. It was strange how erotic it was, Castiel still being fully clothed, how his trenchcoat was cool and a little rough against Dean’s naked skin. Cas pushed the robe off Dean’s shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. His hands skimmed over Dean’s body almost reverently, and Dean shuddered against him.
He could feel his heart thudding as he led Castiel over to the bed. It wasn’t really that he was nervous about the act itself. He’d thought about it enough, planned it enough. What he was nervous about was the possibility that the old panic would rear up again, that he’d have to get out, that he’d spoil everything.
Dean didn’t want to spoil everything. This was Castiel’s first time doing this, too.
Cas shrugged off his coat and pulled his sweater off over his head.
The bed was soft, and Dean sunk down onto it, making his body relaxed and pliable. He hooked a finger through the belt loop of Cas’s pants, pulling him down. Castiel’s mouth was hot and wet on Dean’s throat, a prickle of stubble on his collarbone. He shivered. It was going to be okay.
It had been on Castiel’s insistence that they’d taken things as slow as they had. Dean, frustrated, had snapped a couple of times. “Just do it!” he’d yelled. “Just... just do it! Fix me already! I know you want it, and I- I don’t want to- I don’t want this hanging over me any more!” Castiel had just held him. He didn’t want to do anything, he’d said, unless Dean wanted it completely too. He didn’t want to force it, or make it into something that was only about what had happened to Dean before. They would take it one step at a time, gradually soothing away the shadows in Dean’s past.
Just kissing at first. Kissing with Castiel lying on top, kissing until Dean relaxed, got used to the weight holding him down, until he’d begun to enjoy it. They’d progressed since then, very slowly, until just a couple of weeks ago Dean had finally felt comfortable enough to let Castiel use his fingers inside him during what turned out to be the best head of his life. He wanted this.
Fingers skimmed down Dean’s chest, making his skin jump. He shifted up the bed a little so that he could stretch out properly. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes as Cas began to kiss a path down his chest. He could feel himself growing hard. He remembered telling Cas months ago when they had only been together for a few weeks, that the trick was not to think. To just trust your body and do what felt right. Dean decided to take his own advice now. He wasn’t going to let himself overanalyze what was happening or what might happen, he would just concentrate on the sensations, how good it felt when Cas touched him, how it made Dean’s body flush with pleasure.
Dean started to squirm. Cas hadn’t even moved lower than his waist yet, and Dean was getting impatient for more. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could cope with this long, slow tease. He spoke Castiel’s name, his voice already ragged. He felt Cas smile against his hipbone.
Castiel’s mouth came as a surprise, engulfing him suddenly, warm and wet and tight, so that Dean gasped and arched up off the bed. Cas made a soft humming noise, and the vibrations made Dean whimper. Cas had gotten extremely good at this, and he knew it. He knew all the tricks, all the little things that would cause Dean to lose it. Dean clutched at the bed sheets; the slow, steady suction of Cas’s mouth was making him dizzy. Just as Dean was starting to feel concerned that he wasn’t going to make it to the actual sex, Cas pulled off.
He moved up the bed, losing his pants and socks in the process, and kissed Dean hard. Dean didn’t think he’d ever stop being thrilled by this - their two bodies pressed together so close, wanting to wrap himself up in Castiel, never feeling like they were touching enough.
Dean had been fully prepared, setting out condoms and a bottle of lubricant by the pillow, and Castiel reached for it now, flipping the little cap up and squeezing some of the cool liquid onto his fingers. Dean sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. His eyes stayed on Castiel, watched as he leaned in for another kiss.
It was cold at first, and Dean forced himself to relax once more until he was used to the sensation. Castiel kissed him so gently, and Dean got lost in the sensations, the familiar touch of Cas’s lips and tongue easing him through the more alien feeling of fingers being worked inside him. It didn’t hurt. The way Cas looked at him, the way he touched him... Cas could never hurt Dean.
Dean got lost in the kiss, safe in the knowledge that he was being taken care of, that he didn’t have to fight or be strong because Cas was there. It was sending electric shocks through him, the thing Castiel was doing with his fingers, and Dean knew that the sounds he was making weren’t very dignified.
“Get on top of me,” Cas said, his voice thick.
“Huh?”
Castiel pulled back a little; his pupils were blown wide. “Get on top of me. You’ll... you’ll feel more in control that way.”
Dean had a horrible feeling that he was going to cry, but he managed to suppress it. He flipped them both over so that he was straddling Castiel’s hips.
He was aware of every one of his nerve endings, and at the same time he felt almost... detached, like this was all a dream. It was a good feeling, like nothing existed apart from that moment, and there was no one else in the world besides him and Castiel. He could feel Cas pressing up against him, hard and insistent, and Dean sunk down onto him slowly. He’d expected it to hurt, but it didn’t really. It kind of burned, and it felt strange to be stretched and filled like this, but there wasn’t any actual pain. He was panting hard. Castiel’s eyes were wide and startled.
Dean rocked his hips experimentally, and Cas made a soft, helpless noise.
Dean laughed breathlessly. This was actually happening, and it was fine. More than fine. Dean’s body felt electric and alive in a way it hadn’t before, and it was almost too much. He felt suddenly vulnerable. Castiel’s hand, steady and soothing on his hip, grounded him again. Cas caressed him with a thumb, slowly guiding Dean back into that gentle rocking motion that sent jolts through his insides.
Dean looked down at him. Castiel’s cheeks were flushed and he was biting on his bottom lip so hard the surrounding skin was white. Dean knew what he was feeling, knew how overwhelming it was to be inside another person, the heat and the pressure and the long, slow glide of it. He put his hand over Cas’s and turned it round so he could lace their fingers together. Dean picked up the pace, just a little, and Castiel’s eyelids fluttered. They were in this together. This was theirs, something they were sharing, and of course it was going to feel like too much because it always did, but they had each other to hold on to, and it would be okay. Dean never took his eyes off Cas. He wanted to reassure him; Dean reminded himself that it wasn’t just his first attempt at this.
Castiel propped himself up on his elbow, and Dean leaned in to kiss him. It was harder to move like this, and Dean had reached a point where he felt like he’d go crazy from the feel of Cas inside him, but he needed to be closer to the other boy. Cas started to slowly thrust his hips upwards to meet Dean’s, and Dean moaned against his mouth, fingers digging into Cas’s skin, urging him on.
Yes. Don’t stop. I’m okay.
Dean marveled at how good it felt. Not just the physical sensations, but the way it made him feel. He’d learned to associate giving up control with pain and humiliation, but this was something different. Dean felt powerful and alive, he felt electric, he felt beautiful. The feeling of Cas, hard inside him, hearing him gasp and moan... it was mind blowing.
Dean was grateful that he hadn’t needed to ask Cas to be gentle. It was kind of embarrassing that that was what he needed, and he loved Cas for just knowing it without actually being told. Every movement he made was slow and tender, and Dean held onto him tightly, knowing how difficult it was to hold back like that, loving Cas for loving him enough to do it.
“Over,” Dean gasped. “Turn over. You... on top of me...” He couldn’t manage anything more coherent.
Castiel looked up at him questioningly for a moment, then wrapped an arm around Dean’s back and slowly turned them over, lowering Dean back onto the mattress. Dean sometimes forgot how strong Cas was. He hooked and arm under Dean’s knee and pushed into him slowly. The change in angle meant that Castiel was hitting Dean’s prostate on every stroke, and Dean made a soft keening noise, arching up off the bed.
Castiel reached down between their bodies and slowly started to jerk him off, and Dean lost it completely. The bed creaked loudly beneath them, and Dean twined his fingers into the sheets, just trying to get some purchase on something, as he gave himself over completely to Castiel, and the heat of their bodies, and the pleasure pounding inside of him.
He knew he was close, he knew he was going to come, but it felt different from usual. He could feel it building in his thighs, up his spine, and inside him, inside where Cas was thrusting into him, slow and hard, easing him towards climax. Cas was doing this for him, making love to him, healing and cherishing him.
All of Dean’s muscles clenched, and he came so hard he saw stars dancing in front of his eyes. The pleasure was so keen, so different, that Dean felt like he was going to pass out. He shuddered and moaned, blood pounding in his face, the jolts passing down his thighs, through his stomach.
I’ll die if this doesn’t stop soon.
Dean was dimly aware that Castiel was coming too, coming inside him, and it was so fucking perfect.
Castiel held onto him very tightly afterwards. Dean was slowly ebbing back into awareness, still riding out the little shocks that were modulating beautifully over his skin. He felt lightheaded, like he was floating and Cas was the only thing holding him down. He didn’t think he could move. Castiel’s heartbeat was gradually slowing down; he pulled away from Dean a little, burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.
Dean started to laugh softly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. He was safe and loved, and he wasn’t going to be afraid any more.
Castiel looked at him then, looked at him with so much tenderness that Dean’s heart clenched. Every time Cas looked at him like that, he hated himself a little less.
“It’s okay,” Cas whispered, brushing his fingers over Dean’s cheek. “It’s okay.”
Dean’s face was wet, and he realized that he was crying as well as laughing. Castiel was holding onto him tightly, and Dean needed him to not let go for a long time. He still felt shaky, and he was dimly aware that anything he tried to say would be unintelligible. Castiel stroked his face and kissed his eyes softly.
“It’s okay,” he breathed, his voice unsteady. He gathered Dean up in his arms and held him close against his chest. “Sleep for a while.”
Dean realized that he was exhausted. Castiel had the best ideas. He hooked a knee over Cas’s legs, closed his eyes, and slept.
This way to the Jump the Track timestamp masterpost!