Wrecked
The air that tumbles into Dean's lungs is rich with Castiel's breath. He stares at his friend's eager, blue eyes, searching for answers that Dean just doesn't know. He cannot form any combinations of words that would make any of this make sense; and the longer Cas looks at him, the more confused he becomes.
"Do you?" Cas's rough voice rattles low, shaking Dean to the core.
"D-do I, what?" Dean asks, his eyes wide, darting from one blue inquisitor to the other.
"Do you really care about this?" Cas asks, retracing the line Dean had just made between their chests.
Dean opens his mouth, but all he can do is let out a strangled breath and nod.
Cas smiles. Dean watches every laugh line appear, splintering off the edges of his eyes. Little half-moons dance upon the corners of the man's mouth, curving his cheeks up, fracturing the edges more. When they first met, Cas didn't have those lines.
He nearly jumps when he feels his friend's hand glide up his arm, wrapping long fingers around his elbow. The grip was tight, stronger than Dean would have expected from timid-Castiel. He feels a quick pull that rocks him forward, closing the small gap between their bodies. Cas rolls onto the balls of his feet, lifting himself up, until his nose touches the tip of Dean's. Dean braces himself, both hands instinctively coming up and clasping his friend's arms, just beneath his shoulders. They both are still for a moment, looking down at each other's cheeks, inspecting the slightly-blurred images of their melding features. Dean finally draws his eyes up, feeling his body shake as Cas does the same.
Cas seems to explode, his mouth smashing into Dean's—lips capturing the pillowy curves of his own. He almost falls backwards but Castiel is already there, sliding his hands across Dean's shoulder blades to the center of his back, and then diverging them; his left falling just above the waistband of Dean's jeans, and the right, up to the nape of his neck.
Dean's mouth responds how it always has when being furiously kissed, even though his mind is firing off a thousand questions per second. What the hell is going on? Am I seriously doing this? Oh my god, oh my god! I'm kissing a dude! I'm kissing Cas! I am-
Castiel knows him too well. He knows Dean's mind is overworking- suddenly Dean's lips are abandoned for the curve of his jaw, and the length of his throat
Tiny bites and elusive licks trace the stubble that shades Dean's edges. He closes his eyes—quickly lost in the feeling of someone paying so much attention to the details of his skin. He allows his hands to slip down from Cas's shoulders and onto his narrow hips. He pulls him closer, finding the warmth of the man's body all too inviting. Dean swivel's his head and nestles his cheek into Castiel's hair. He breathes in deep; the familiar, comforting smell rushes through him, causing him to shudder. Cas times himself perfectly, dancing a few frantic licks along the outside rim of Dean's ear.
Dean loses it. With blown pupils and wrecked breath, he steps back, yanking Castiel with him. The two tumble, grappling each other all the way to the couch. Dean falls back first, attempting to pull his friend down over his body— suddenly eager to taste the salt on Castiel's skin; but the blue eyed man remains upright, staring down at him, still looking hungry and manic, but his mouth twitching with unspoken words.
"Dean?" his breath is heavy and his tongue almost seems numb by the sound of Dean's name rolling off of it. "Is this what you want? I don't know if I can handle you making me leave because of this."
The look on Castiel's face changes with his words; it's the same look he had all those years ago in that bar: terrified-lost, in desperate need of someone's kindness. It struck Dean back then but it melts him now.
Dean leans up again, grabbing at Cas's shirt, pulling him down until he is partially kneeling between Dean's legs. The man steadies himself, a palm resting on Dean's shoulder, and the other on his thigh. Cas turns his head away almost as if he wants to pull back, the massive whites of his eyes, pulsing from his lids. Dean breathes in heavy, and the oceans shifts their gaze again, sliding back to Dean's face- but Cas's head is still turned away, making every bit of blue splash into the corners of his eyes. Dean thinks he may just drown in the look.
He isn't sure of what he wants to say, but he knows he wants Cas to keep looking at him like this. He knows he wants to feel Cas devour him again. He has no fucking clue why, or what will happen after that but he knows that the last thing he wants in this world is for Castiel to leave.
Dean arches the last few inches and kisses the man in front of him— gently biting his lip and dusting his tongue along the quivering seam of his mouth, pulling away after another second to say the only thing that comes to mind.
"Cas . . . stay."