Today's color:
Mint
Mint (/mint/)
a variable color averaging a pale green, with hints of blue and very slightly yellow
I was doing... um, research awhile for a previous fic and came across some lovely mint colored panties. So, since it's been awhile since I wrote anything smutty... As soon as I saw the daily word, I was inspired by those panties and that was that.
This chapter will be rated M for sexual situations and language (I think it's safe to say it's pretty much just a PWP—fair warning). This chapter will contain panty kink (Dean in panties).
Enjoy!
Castiel looks up when the bag of frozen vegetables Dean is holding slips from his fingers, falling onto the floor and spilling its contents across the tile. He touches Dean's arm, concerned when he notices the far-off look on Dean's face and the way he seems frozen; staring blankly, hands up and open like he doesn't realize he'd just dropped the peas.
"Dean?"
Dean jerks back to awareness and practically mauls Cas, grabbing him by the front of his button down, yanking him close and kissing him hot and dirty. Cas makes a sound of surprise but just goes with it like he always does; grabbing at the back of Dean's head, fingers sliding through his hair, and the other palming Dean's ass, kissing back with enthusiasm that make Dean's toes curl in his socks and his hips jerk forward.
"Fuck," he breathes as he pulls away, panting lightly. Cas just grins at him, hips bumping forward suggestively. "No, seriously. We should totally fuck."
He looks around the kitchen, his body warming, heat curling and pooling in his belly, when his gaze lands on the sturdy table. He's always wanted to throw Cas down on the table and get it on. But with Kevin and Sam living at the Bunker, and Charlie's frequent visits, it's nearly impossible to get alone time that didn't include a locked door because all three of the assholes had a sixth cock-block Dean sense that rarely failed to catch him and Cas out when they try to do anything past making out.
Castiel looks around the kitchen, eyebrow raised, before looking back at Dean and studying his expression. "Here?" he asks, already knowing the answer when Dean grins, eyebrows dancing lewdly, and starts directing him towards the large oak table. He spares a moment to think 'but we eat there' but he goes willingly, of course, Dean no longer needing to have his hands on his chest to get him moving.
"Hell yeah," Dean breathes out, dick twitching when Cas grins back and goes willingly. No questions asked, no objections.
As soon as Cas' legs hit the table's edge, he's grabbing Dean and pulling him close so their bodies are flush together, hands everywhere, mouth insistent and hot. He might've started this, but Cas takes the reins with ease and Dean just goes with a happy sound as Cas undoes his belt with one hand and slides the other down the back of his jeans.
He has a moment of panic when Cas goes still and leans back, eyebrows raised. He can feel Cas' palm and fingers hot through the thin fabric, Cas' thumb teasing at the thick lace band.
They had a bit of a... discussion about the back of Dean's sock drawer, but it wasn't like they really got into it. Cas had found a pair of panties because he was a terrible clothes thief and Dean didn't care if he borrowed a pair of socks. After Dean snatched the panties, face hot and eyes averted, and shoved them as far as he could while assuring Cas they weren't from some random woman and that they were Dean's, that was that. They didn't talk about it after that... not enough for Cas to know Dean sometimes slips a pair out and wears them instead of his boxer briefs. And yeah, that's usually days he doesn't think Cas will see 'em, if he's honest with himself.
Because as cool as Cas had been about it, expression interested but not judgemental (almost looking confused why Dean would even be blushing and practically stammering), that doesn't mean Dean was quite ready to wear them in front of him.
Too late now.
He stares back, trying not to look defensive or defiant. Reminds himself 'this is Cas, this is Cas, Cas loves you and won't freak out''. He smothers the urge to fidget (or maybe make a break for it—chances of finding out if their table can take the weight of two grown men be damned) because Cas is still staring at him, blue eyes dark and intent; he's got that look in his eye that makes Dean shiver pleasantly. It's all focused lust and adoration and he's starting to relax.
"Is that—what I think it is?" Castiel finally asks, breaking the tense silence. Dean's flushed with embarrassment, eyes darting away occasionally, and he wants to tread lightly. He's been waiting for this for awhile. As arousing as the idea of Dean in his panties is, he didn't want to push, he'd been happy to wait until Dean came to him about it, with his cocky smile and confident swagger. Dean is remarkably sensitive and he loathes the thought of risking the trust they've built.
Dean clears his throat and meets Cas' eyes. Yeah, Cas is looking at him in the way that secretly makes his knees weak. He can't quite find his voice though, so he just nods. Cas' hand slides across his ass, the slide slow and smooth over the rayon. It feels awesome and his eyes flutter closed with a sigh.
Castiel watches closely. "Is this okay?" he murmurs, hesitantly resting a hand on Dean's hip. He wants to touch the lace and soft fabric. "We can—"
"It's fine, Cas," Dean says, opening his eyes and giving Cas a look. He's half-hard and it's not going to be long to get all the way there if Cas keeps petting his ass, sliding his hand over the softness of his panties. He rolls his hips out just a little, pressing into Cas' palm.
Castiel pushes Dean's jeans down, finally getting a glimpse. He slowly runs his thumbs over the thick lace band, gaze drawn the the little black satin bow just under Dean's navel. The soft mint green panel covering his nascent erection is soft to the touch, softer than the black and doing very little to hide Dean's excitement.
He runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he stares at the darker patch of precome, excited by the sight of it by habit as much as knowing Dean's turned on and not shying away.
"Well?" Dean asks after a solid two minutes of staring, Cas' hands back to gripping his hips tightly. He can feel the flush on his neck and chest when Cas merely looks up through his lashes at him, head lifted just enough Dean can see the smile on his face.
He groans softly when Cas' hand slides from where he'd had it across his hip and cups him, thumb sweeping along the outline of him through the soft fabric. His hips twitch forward eagerly and he grabs at Cas' shirt, dragging him in for another kiss.
"I take it you like them?"
Castiel hums softly, dipping his head to nose at Dean's jaw and chuckles. "I do, but I like that you like them even more." He pulls away with an effort and looks Dean over again, pleased to see Dean's practically preening this time; hips jutted forward a little and unashamedly, fully hard and peeking obscenely over the thick lace band.
He doesn't quite understand why Dean would think this is odd, why he'd be embarrassed, but he's more than pleased to know Dean still indulges himself. He's quick to bring Dean closer again, needing to feel Dean hard and eager against him. Dean is already rutting in shallow thrusts against his hip, so he doesn't think they're going to have the patience for what Dean originally had in mind.
Castiel steadies himself against the sturdy table and brings Dean in close, running his hands all over the soft panties. They're so soft and warm from Dean's body heat, he can understand the appeal. They're indulgent and attractive, more so than the no-nonsense, plain underwear Dean usually wears. He has an idea that Dean has more than one pair of panties shoved in the back of his drawer and he really hopes Dean makes a habit of wearing them daily.
He slides a finger under the soft elastic by Dean's thigh, tracing the line of muscle and bone. Dean braces himself on his shoulders with an excited shudder and he's happy to take his weight. He places a line of kisses across Dean's chest and up his neck, keeps his fingers loose and light as he traces the shape of Dean through the rayon.
Dean moans as his head tilts back, eyes closing. He feels like a lump just standing there as Cas does everything, but it feels too good and Cas looks happy enough to have Dean panting and pliant like putty in his hands. He can feel the smug little smile on Cas' lips as he kisses across his chest, nipples peaked and skin flushed with goosebumps. Cas knows just where to touch him to drive him crazy. Right now, Cas is very carefully leaving the panties on and it's about to melt his goddamn brain he's so turned on.
He presses closer to Cas, moaning out a shuddering exhale when Cas' other hand slips down the back of his panties and teases down between his cheeks. He's cursing and panting, rubbing against Cas, hands buried in Cas' hair as he tries to hold himself upright as pleasure burns through him.
Dean's mouth drops with a lewd moan when Cas increases the pressure, the friction perfect through his panties. Cas keeps this up, and he'll be coming in his damn panties in no time.
"That is the idea, Dean," Castiel murmurs lowly, smiling to himself when Dean twitches and voices another loud moan, nipping at Dean's collarbone, dragging his tongue over one of Dean's nipples. Dean's hands are tight on him as he rocks with each move he makes and he's entranced, practically soaking up the sight before him. Thankfully, Dean is too lost to pleasure, moments away from orgasm, to chide him for staring.
He leans in again, tracing his tongue along the line of Dean's earlobe and puts a few nipping kisses down Dean's neck before leaning in close again, murmuring in Dean's ear. He nearly smiles in satisfaction when Dean moans and comes with a shudder when he asks him to, tells Dean he wants to see him come in his pretty panties. He didn't know how Dean would respond to that and he's pleased with the results.
Dean practically collapses against Cas' chest, hands weakly grabbing at his arms and panting against Cas' chest. And holy shit, Cas is still completely dressed. He groans weakly and needs a few extra minutes to catch his breath and get his legs back under him.
He reaches for Cas, feeling bad when it looks like Cas is ready to burst right through the damn zipper, but Cas' hand on his wrist is gentle but insistent. A murmured 'later' has him nodding and flopping over Cas again with a satisfied sigh. As soon as he's able to stand without wobbling, he's grabbing Cas and dragging him out of the kitchen and to their bedroom. They need real lube to get Cas taken care of; they can try table sex later.
-X-
"—the fucking bomb!" Charlie gushes as she bursts through the heavy front door, practically dancing down the main stairs of the Bunker. Sam is shaking his head, a fond smile on his face, as he follows her down at a more sedate pace. The graceful moose, she thinks to herself and snickers under her breath.
Sam huffs a laugh. "Yeah, it was pretty cool," he agrees easily enough. It isn't often he enjoyed the various Comic Cons Charlie drags him too, but thankfully this one hadn't ever heard of the Supernatural books, so he felt relatively safe and anonymous and had been able to enjoy himself. He'd actually had fun, laughing and taking pictures of Kevin and Charlie in their cosplays. "I'm glad we went for the weekend passes."
"Hells yeah," Charlie sing-songs, lifting her hand for a high five. Which Sam is in the process of returning when he stills completely, hand still raised, gaze trained over her shoulder and his eyes bugging out. She whips around, expecting some baddie or something, but doesn't see anything nefarious. "Dude?"
Sam sputters and averts his eyes. Dammit. Dean's insistence on staying back at the Bunker had been weird, he likes the dorky stuff and no longer tries to pretend he doesn't when Charlie has something worth geeking out over, but now he knows why. He groans and covers his eyes with one hand, using the other to wordlessly point to the offending item.
"What?" Charlie asks even as she turns around. She looks around but doesn't see anyth— "Oh," she breathes out, grinning and crossing her arms over her chest. "Rock on, Dean-o," she cheers, pumping a fist in the air. Sam groans again and she rolls her eyes. "Don't be a priss," she scolds playfully.
She can totally get why Sam is having a little brother moment, but she knows for a fact both of them have walked in on a lot worse than a pair of underwear dangling from a ceiling fan. She drags a chair over and fishes them off the fan blade. They're cute, all soft black mesh with white trim and little pretty flowers, and she figures Dean will want them once his fit of passion has subsided (and his embarrassment at having them found).
She hops down, twirling them around her finger and grinning at Sam. She's tempted to fling them right in his pinched up face, but she just punches his arm with a grin and heads towards the laundry room. No need for Kevin to wander in and start screeching about brain bleach too.
