AN: Don't hate me, but this is based off of a Garth Brooks song. Heh heh heh
It started out innocently enough. It always did. The touches were gentle; fingers just simply grazing against each other as they passed the bottle of whiskey back and forth. But soon it moved on, accidental intertwining of hands turned into purposeful, hungry grasps. Friendly gazes turned into sexual stare downs. The heat of the alcohol in their abdomens turned into a fire within their souls. Soft turned to hard and innocent turned to dirty.
"We shouldn't do this," Castiel whispered gently, pulling Dean's hand from his mussed hair.
Dean groaned, "You do this every time."
"Because it's not right."
Ignoring the other man's plea, Dean brought his lips to the chapped ones of the other. Softly he kissed from corner to corner, showing him just how right it was. If it felt so heavenly how could it be wrong in any way possible. Castiel reacted, sitting up straighter on the leather couch, pulling the stronger man to him. Hard bodies pressed against one another, grinding and hitting. Clothes became wrinkled and slowly began to fly off, hitting walls, lamps, and tables before falling to a final thud on the floor.
Castiel stopped the wild blur of lips and tongues, pulling back and admiring the half naked man before him.
His stomach dropped with a mix of admiration and disgust. Who was he? Who was he really? He claimed to be a man of God yet here he was, accepting the sexual advances of a man.
As he started to think too far into it, Castiel was pushed onto his back. Dean lay over top of him, the entirety of his lower body pressing against Castiel. His arms held himself up as he looked into the angels eyes. He smirked as he grinded down. Castiel's vessel reacted with a jerk of the hips. Lips parted and air escaped, floating between the two.
Castiel had never felt more like a mere mortal.
The involuntary twitches and sweat just egged the men on more. Bites were landed on collar bones, boxers were all but ripped off. And moans were transferred from one mouth to another.
Dicks were grabbed and names were cried out. Smirks were dished out like candy and eaten up just as quickly.
Before too long seed was spilled, mixing together on Castiel's belly.
The two men laid exhausted, breathing so raggedly it seemed they'd been running. And they might as well have been.
Looking up at the ceiling, the two men said nothing. The black leather sticking to their sweaty backs. Dean sat up quickly, "What time is it?" He grabbed his phone off of the coffee table and cursed, "It's three thirty."
He sprung from the couch and pulled his clothes on, kissed Cas gently on the forehead and said his goodbyes. Cas just lay on the couch, ejaculate resting on his stomach and with nothing to wipe up with. A feeling of being used washed over him but he pushed it away. Human emotions shouldn't apply to him, he wouldn't let them. He closed his eyes and for once wished he could sleep.
Dean pushed the speed limit, breaking at least ninety miles an hour. The rain smashed against his windsheild and the thunder boomed all around him. He had only two more miles and he prayed to whatever higher power existed that he'd arrive home to a sleeping household. As he pulled into the driveway he noticed that the kitchen light was on.
"Shit," he swore under his breath, pulling the key out of the ignition.
When he went to open the door, someone on the other side pulled it open. They flung into his arms, letting out an audible sigh of relief, "Thank God you're home, I was thinking you'd gotten into an accident or something. I'm so glad your safe."
Dean forced a smile.
Just as she leaned in for a kiss, Lisa stopped, "Who's cologne is that?"