Fic: Staring at the Sun (Dean/Castiel)
Sunday porny Sunday!
Five days! One hand, baby, count 'em! Previous ficlets here.
Title: Staring at the Sun
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: General S4
Length: ~550 words
Summary: Written for a kink_meme prompt: “Dean and Castiel, getting it on (some how) with Castiel being in his true form, not his human vessel.”
Staring at the Sun
The whole blindfold thing was never really Dean's kink, but since he'd, you know, like to keep his eyeballs intact, it's kind of necessary now. Same with the plugs shoved in his ears, the necessity of which they discovered the hard way, as Cas apparently can't keep his big angelic mouth shut when he comes. (If he even has, technically, what could be called a mouth.) So although they didn't choose to, they're kind of working the whole sensory-deprivation thing. If you can call what Dean feels when Cas-in-his-true-form fucks him deprivation.
Dean's vote: you absolutely can't.
He sees nothing but he feels everything. Cas' heat envelops him, going beyond the sensation of being filled, of fullness he gets when they do this with human bodies. Dean is engulfed in a buzzing, electric...something, and it's all Cas. The closest analogy he can come up with (Penthouse Forum has no idea how much they need this letter) is that it's like slipping naked into a charged pool-and the water lapping at every inch of his body is Castiel. And the current that runs across his skin, shooting gently but powerfully up the curve of his spine, up the answering curve of his cock like a thousand eager fingers-that is Castiel. And the cool, tantalizing sweeps of what can only be an angel's electric feathers-that is Castiel moving across him, and in him, and all over him, making love to him with a body that could crush the life out of him with barely a thought, that could burn the eyes from his skull at one glimpse. That gripped him tight and raised his tattered soul from perdition.
Being with Castiel like this, Dean knows, is like making love to a hurricane; it is reckless and stupid and he can't get enough. He can't give enough-for how can he touch Castiel like this? Cas can touch him, caress him with essentially invisible maybe-fingers that with one brush against his flushed skin practically set off sparks. But all Dean can do is lie there and take it; writhe blindly for Castiel, under him, surrounded by him-aching and moaning and reaching for something he can never really touch.
Cas doesn't seem to mind; in fact he seems perfectly capable-as the burst-eardrum incident amply proved-of finding pleasure in simply getting Dean off. But Dean at his core is a giver, not a taker. And as, as...transcendent as sex with Castiel in full-on angel mode is, there's something to be said for Cas' (falsely?) vulnerable human body bucking and writhing under Dean's ministrations; for his human moans and heady, human sweat; for his big blue eyes going shocked and wide and the all-too-human splash of his come against Dean's hand and stomach.
Dean doesn't even know what Cas is touching him with, what part of this vast, unknowable entity is currently being used to tease pleasure out of Dean's frail, human self. He is tempted sometimes to ask, to pop the earplugs from his ears and demand an answer; to tear the blindfold from his eyes and just for one, glorious second, to see-
Instead Dean strains unseeing into the blinding light, and Castiel draws each orgasm from him like a sacrifice, a ritual renewal of faith.
Five days! One hand, baby, count 'em! Previous ficlets here.
Title: Staring at the Sun
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: General S4
Length: ~550 words
Summary: Written for a kink_meme prompt: “Dean and Castiel, getting it on (some how) with Castiel being in his true form, not his human vessel.”
Staring at the Sun
The whole blindfold thing was never really Dean's kink, but since he'd, you know, like to keep his eyeballs intact, it's kind of necessary now. Same with the plugs shoved in his ears, the necessity of which they discovered the hard way, as Cas apparently can't keep his big angelic mouth shut when he comes. (If he even has, technically, what could be called a mouth.) So although they didn't choose to, they're kind of working the whole sensory-deprivation thing. If you can call what Dean feels when Cas-in-his-true-form fucks him deprivation.
Dean's vote: you absolutely can't.
He sees nothing but he feels everything. Cas' heat envelops him, going beyond the sensation of being filled, of fullness he gets when they do this with human bodies. Dean is engulfed in a buzzing, electric...something, and it's all Cas. The closest analogy he can come up with (Penthouse Forum has no idea how much they need this letter) is that it's like slipping naked into a charged pool-and the water lapping at every inch of his body is Castiel. And the current that runs across his skin, shooting gently but powerfully up the curve of his spine, up the answering curve of his cock like a thousand eager fingers-that is Castiel. And the cool, tantalizing sweeps of what can only be an angel's electric feathers-that is Castiel moving across him, and in him, and all over him, making love to him with a body that could crush the life out of him with barely a thought, that could burn the eyes from his skull at one glimpse. That gripped him tight and raised his tattered soul from perdition.
Being with Castiel like this, Dean knows, is like making love to a hurricane; it is reckless and stupid and he can't get enough. He can't give enough-for how can he touch Castiel like this? Cas can touch him, caress him with essentially invisible maybe-fingers that with one brush against his flushed skin practically set off sparks. But all Dean can do is lie there and take it; writhe blindly for Castiel, under him, surrounded by him-aching and moaning and reaching for something he can never really touch.
Cas doesn't seem to mind; in fact he seems perfectly capable-as the burst-eardrum incident amply proved-of finding pleasure in simply getting Dean off. But Dean at his core is a giver, not a taker. And as, as...transcendent as sex with Castiel in full-on angel mode is, there's something to be said for Cas' (falsely?) vulnerable human body bucking and writhing under Dean's ministrations; for his human moans and heady, human sweat; for his big blue eyes going shocked and wide and the all-too-human splash of his come against Dean's hand and stomach.
Dean doesn't even know what Cas is touching him with, what part of this vast, unknowable entity is currently being used to tease pleasure out of Dean's frail, human self. He is tempted sometimes to ask, to pop the earplugs from his ears and demand an answer; to tear the blindfold from his eyes and just for one, glorious second, to see-
Instead Dean strains unseeing into the blinding light, and Castiel draws each orgasm from him like a sacrifice, a ritual renewal of faith.