For Dean
Dean always enjoyed watching me touch myself. He'd sit in the armchair in our room, telling me what to do while I was sprawled out on our bed, moaning his name.
"Dean…" I ran my hand over my swollen cock, swirling my thumb over the head, my back arching.
"That's it, baby." Dean's voice was low and gruff, as it always was when we were intimate, and it spurred me on even more. "Imagine my hands on you, Cas. Imagine me inside you."
I groaned at his words and made a fist around my cock, stroking slowly, not wanting this to be over too soon. I turned my head and opened my eyes, looking at Dean. His legs were spread, an obvious bulge in his jeans. All I wanted was to pull him to me and let him have his way with me. But I knew he liked this, so I continued, my eyes locked with his.
I began to stroke my hand faster, writhing on the bed, moaning Dean's name over and over.
"That's it, Cas," Dean whispers in approval, and I know he's doing everything in his power to not pounce me.
"Dean…" I feel my orgasm building up, my muscles tightening. "I'm so close…"
"Let it go, baby. Cum for me. C'mon, let it all go."
I shouted Dean's name, pushing my hips off the bed and thrusting into my hand, my climax hitting me hard. Suddenly, Dean was there to rock me through it, replacing my hand with his own, moving it gently.
"I've got you, Cas. Let it go," he breathed softly against my lips.
Our breath mingled as I came down from my high and I moved to flip him over onto his back.
"My turn."