Dean always imagined Castiel's home to be a dark place, filled with lots of Russian flags and Stalin posters and what not ( he wasn't very educated in Russian culture, forgive him ). He thought it to be untouchable. But now, being there, he was surprised at how at ease he felt.
Castiel was cooking the promised pie on the polished counter, kneading the dough with flour dusted hands. Dean sat nearby propped on the table, nursing a beer while looking over the progress he was making.
"I never learned how to cook, not really." –Dean voiced all of a sudden as he took another gulp of the bitter liquid.
"Making dough is like making love." –Castiel surprised Dean with his words, resulting in a choke as he gulped down.
"First you mix the yeast with flower. Gentle, soft, until it builds up, and grows and becomes dough. Then you dive in, you rush your hands through it, over it, pushing and pulling lifting and smacking '- he spoke vividly as he smacked a hand roughly on the dough-' until it's all over, and the dough is fine and flat." –He ended his speech as he finally turned towards Dean. Whose cheeks were flushed beet red and mouth hung open, breath heaving.
"Well, uh, that's... That's good, I suppose..." –Dean was at a loss of words from the show Castiel had performed and decided to gulp on his beer in awkwardness.
"It suppose to teach you." –Castiel grumbled in that dead voice of his, leaning his back on the counter, crossing his arms in defiance.
"Well, uh, it thought me you know how to have sex, if that's worth something." –Dean replied with snark, to which Castiel responded with a frown.
"I cook with love. I don't have sex with love." –Castiel explained matter-of-factly, joining a hand gesture to his statement.
"Love... I don't think I even know what that means..." –Deam mumbled with a sad chuckle more to himself rather than to Castiel.
"You Americans and your love."- Castiel pulled his most hated catch-phrase with a headshake.
"Cas, don't-" –Dean wanted to stop Castiel's ranting over Americans, when he was stopped.
"I tell you what love is."- He raised his voice over Dean's and left his place in the counter, around the kitchen and to a shelf.
Dean watched his movements with curiosity awaiting Castiel's next surprise. He came back, trudging, something clutched firmly in his hand.
"See this." –He said as he stood in front of Dean, opening his hand to reveal a lighter, engraved with lots of swirls and a name. 'Castiel' stood out in the midst, written in cyrillic script.
"This was given to me by mother. I treasure this. Very important."- He said meaningfully , speaking with his eyes as they bore into Dean's.
"Love is importance. Meaning. You mean more, than this." –Castiel spoke softly as he stressed the zippo between his fingers.
Dean's mouth flew open at the spoken words, finding himself at a loss of words, once again.
"Cas, I-."
"You don't need to lie. I know." –Castiel nodded, as he switched his gaze away from Dean making to reduce their proximity, but Dean grabbed him by the shoulders, yanking back towards himself.
"No you don't. Look, I-, if love is importance then I love you. I wouldn't come here in the middle of a work day, if you weren't important. Please, don't-, I might be a stupid American, but I-" –But his voice died as his mouth was taken by Castiel's lips, engrossing him in heat and want.
Taking Dean by surprise, he needed a second to realize what was going on, and once the realization that Castiel's lips were on him, he immediately moved to retaliate.
He ran his hand through the dark locks of Castiel, clutching the strands there, moving his other hand to brush at the stubbled cheek, feeling the rough needle press over his hand, and over his chin and cheeks as he pulled and kissed at Castiel's chapped lips.
Everything about Castiel was always new to him, his whole presence presented something unorthodox. In kind, the way he kissed felt very new to Dean. Or it just might be the knowing that this is Castiel he is kissing that was making this all very new, but the heat, and want, and edge of wildness to him brought up a surge of emotions he didn't know he possessed. And didn't realize they could be brought up in him.
Finally, Castiel pulled back, leaving Dean grateful for the catch of breath but reluctant to leave the heat. He watched with awe as the ever stoic Castiel gulped breath after breath, chest heaving under the wife-beater, lips slicked wet and swollen.
"Are you honest?" –Castiel huffed the question breathlessly.
"Yes. " –Dean sighed the words. And with that, Castiel was on him again, taking his mouth as he slipped his tongue between the heat there, making sure to lap at every available surface. Dean was content to play this battle of dominance, but he wanted to let Castiel win, wanted to feel that sheer dominance Castiel possessed, to finally see it and experience it.
Castiel trailed away from his mouth and down his raspy chin, left to his jaw line and down to his Adam's apple where he lapped and sucked and took his time in leaving a mark. Dean felt himself getting lost minute by minute, all rationality leaving him, baring him down to pure emotion and feel. He clutched blindly at Castiel's shoulders and hair, sighing moan after moan at every movement the other man made.
He felt nimble fingers shake as they worked the buttons of his shirt open. Deciding to help the other man, he only proved to be of more trouble, mixing the buttons up and slapping their hands. Dean chuckled at their incident, but Castiel growled with defiance, finally ripping open the shirt, making the buttons fly through the room in various directions.
"C-Cas?"- Dean asked bewilderedly.
"I-I am so sorry, Dean, I get carried away, I-"- But his apologetic ramblings were stopped by Dean's hungry mouth eager to continue where they'd stop. As Castiel pushed back the remnants of his shirt, Dean busied himself with Castiel's undershirt. He broke the kiss to pull it off through Castiel's head, and he just stopped. He stopped to admire the tight muscles rippling beneath. the popped veins down his groin, the dark hairs there.
He gulped as he finally looked up to Castiel's eyes seeing as he two eyes his body with hunger. Their eyes locked and ina burst of movement they were on each other again.
Kissing and lapping, Castiel's hands fumbled with Dean's zipper, whilst Dean pushed them aside, hurriedly taking his pants down, while Castiel slid out of his sweatpants.
Dean let out a soft moan upon seeing Castiel's manhood, relishing in the idea that he made that happen. And that soon, he was gonna feel it.
Before he even finished marveling, Castiel threw him further down the counter, pushing him further down, as he climbed on top of him.
" Я тебя люблю" –Castiel uttered the words with a sigh, and even though Dean didn't speak Russian, he understood.
"I love you" –Dean sighed the words as he cupped Castiel's awe struck face.
And with that Castiel sealed their lips once more as he buried his hips between Dean's spread legs, rutting against the flesh there.
Finally, Dean felt soft pressure against his entrance. He surprised even himself, at how easily he seemed to blossom around Castiel's cock, taking him in gladly, painlessly.
He watched Castiel's face above himself, as his eyes lids fluttered close, his mouth parting in a soft sigh.
It was fascinating to see the crude and rough Castiel soften so gradually, looking lost.
He wrapped his arms around Castiel's shoulders as the man dived in to kiss at Dean's spit slick lips.
He found bliss as he made love to Castiel. And he found himself realizing that for the first time ever, he was actually making love, not having sex with somebody. Somehow there was a very distinct difference between the two.
Like how he wished this would never end. How he realized that he was not seeking relief, that he sought connection. How he realized he didn't feel an itch of pain. No shame. Only love.
And as he felt Castiel hit his spot, he came with a sudden cry of ecstasy, dragging his nails across Castiel's shoulders and back.
Castiel followed suit, leaving a feeling of wet warmth inside of him, and for the first time, he didn't mind it.
He breathed heavily as he tried to catch his breath, as did Castiel, who still loomed over him, his weight supported on his forearms.
"Dean..."-Castiel sighed the words quietly, but Dean could see the whole meaning of it in his blue eyes.
"Yeah... Me too."-
Castiel smiled widely, lovingly, as he dipped down to peck at Dean's lips.
So, I was reading through some fandom wank (sue me) and came across this guy's livejournal where he oh so eloquently explained how 'white women' or women in general couldn't write smut, nor gay fanfiction. In which he explains how he knows best because he is a gay man, so if he says that men are animals who only want sex that's final ( he actually says this). So this is a big fuck you to anybody that belittles smut. :) Hope you liked it! Sorry for the rant x) )