Beyond the Door
Dust catches in the burnt, sunset-rays slipping in through the blinds. A peaceful quiet fills the room; even the hum of car engines and the occasional bustling neighbor is muted by the walls surrounding them. They are cocooned inside—a little nook where they can do what they please, no longer abiding by any rules of the world beyond the door.
Cas crouches, motionless, between the coffee table and the soft, tan couch; Dean, curved just below him, looking up- eyes, tanning in the rays.
Fabric falls helplessly on top of Dean's skin, caressing the slightly concave-curve of his stomach; and stretching across his broad, mounding chest. He watches as Dean leans back against the couch, giving a light tug on Cas's shirt, just before dropping his hands to his sides. Dean's lips part slightly, the way they always do when he is eager for something—eager for food, eager for a drink; now, eager for Castiel. His short, shadowed, blonde hair is slightly askew, making the man look gruff when accompanied by his five o'clock shadow. He could stare at him like this, until the world ends. He always loves watching the beautiful things.
But watching from afar won't be enough, not now. Castiel leans in, wanting to look closer, wanting to watch every muscle in Dean's body twitch and jump with anticipation. He has never felt power like this; he has never felt capable of controlling someone but right now, in this moment, he feels like he can do anything to Dean—he would be allowed to. The sensation exhilarates him, flooring his mind into places he has rarely strayed. He is sure Dean frequents these filthy areas of the brain often; but Cas, he usually prefers cleanliness and predictability. Not now, not here.
"Cas?" Dean whimpers, making the tendons in his jaw visibly snap, highlighting every edge of his face. Dean has beautiful edges. "Are you going to stay?
Cas grins, he feels the smile burst from within him like he has never known. He didn't realize it was possible to grin with your entire body but he knows he is doing it now; and Dean must also be aware of it. The man's freckled face glows; sending beautiful etches across his skin. Cas sees the outline of every laugh, every jaw splitting grin—every moment of pure happiness Dean has had, written against his eyes, his mouth . . . and he is sharing the story with him.
"Yes." Is all Cas can think to say before falling over his friend, his hands gripping the cushion on either side of Dean's head; his back arching up as he moves his legs across the other's body, straddling Dean's thigh.
"Thank god!" Dean growls, pulling Cas down by the hips until their chests pound together.
Cas winces, "I don't think God would much approve of this." unable to keep old habits at bay.
Dean laughs, sliding his hand up Cas's spine, eventually coming to rest along the side of his neck.
"I thought you had given up on religion and were all approving of this . . . gay shit." Dean whispers, flinching a little at his own words.
"I have, and I am." Cas retorts, his voice edging on defensive. He props his head up slightly, enjoying feeling the pull of Dean's hand, keeping him in place. "I just mean, the fact that we are being so intimate without any vows between us. . . God wouldn't be welcoming your thanks for this."
Dean's body rocks beneath him. Laughter sputters through his full, drying lips. Cas is a little confused by the apparent humor of what he has said, but loves the new sensation of feeling Dean laugh.
"Cas, I'm sure God isn't too happy with me, anyway, and he hasn't been in a long time; one of the downfalls of associating with this Winchester."
"If that is true, then God is an ass-butt." Cas spits out, suddenly very offended that anyone might not be happy with Dean.
Another quake strikes, nearly bucking Cas from his mount. He watches as Dean's eyes close and an open smile overtakes his face. Dean pulls a loose fist up, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as the rest of his body rolls out uninhibited laughter. Cas could watch this forever.
The fits calm and Cas sighs, tossing a meager smile down at Dean, "Is that not a proper name to call someone?"
Dean's mouth stretches up another inch, likening him very closely to a Pez dispenser. "Not really man, but I think it's my new favorite."
Cas smiles again, happy to have given Dean something to favor. He drops his head the rest of the way, letting his mouth do the only thing it is apparently good at: kissing Dean. He feels Dean's bottom lip slide perfectly between his. Cas's tongue peeks out, exploring every curve, before pushing further, opening Dean up. He feels his body jolt as the man beneath him meets him in the middle. A soft sweetness leaps off of Dean's taste buds, crossing over to his own.
Dean slides his body sideways, letting himself fall and stretch out along the length of the couch. Cas sinks with him, moving his legs so he could stay straddled over Dean. They arch and sway together, mouths never separating—arms and hands, skating across fabric in a desperate search of skin.
Dean's chest staggers against the added weight of Castiel, stretched out on top of him. His hips instinctively motion small circles against Cas's thigh. Sweat collects on their plains, causing their hands to slip as they vie for more to touch. Castiel pulls away for a moment, finally noticing Dean's gentle grind against his leg. His eyes round, pupils exploding as he slides his knee closer, feeling Dean, throbbing beneath him. Dean looks down at himself, a cherry hue crawling up his neck.
Cas slinks his fingers from Dean's chest, where they were just molesting every ridge and rib underneath his shirt. He keeps his eyes locked on the beautiful, green eyed man, analyzing each flinch and blink, for a sign that says, where he is about to go is okay.
The engraved metal button of Dean's jeans is pulled tight against the loop, trying to keep the tented fabric closed. Cas releases it from its hold with a quick flick of his thumb and forefinger. Dean lets out a small gasp, the freeing sensation, seemingly enough to make his muscles jump. Cas drinks in the last flecks of green in Dean's eyes just before they fully black out in the dilation.
Heat rises up from Dean's freshly exposed skin, causing Cas's palms to sweat as he slides his hand just beneath the waistband, feeling the man's eagerness with his decent. Cas slips his body beside Dean, cramming him against the back cushions of the couch. He finds himself wishing he had another set of eyes to stare at the angled lines crawling from beneath Dean's shirt, disappearing under the hem of his boxers. He wants to remove every piece of fabric that keeps Dean's freckled skin hidden from the world.
Castiel inches his hand further- the tips of his fingers gliding down until his knuckles disappear beneath cotton. A sticky wetness meets his fingertips, and the familiar scent of arousal fills Cas's nose. His own jeans tighten, and he finds himself, slowly sliding his hips, up and down Dean's side. With one last push, Cas's hand edges through soft hair and wrap around the rigid, pulsing shaft of Dean's cock.
Dean's neck arches against the arm of the couch; eyes bursting wide, staring at the ceiling as a deep, grunting moan leaps from his throat. Cas watches as the man's adams apple bounces with each desperate gulp of air. Castiel pulls his torso up, over Dean's chest, until his head is hanging over his friend's face. He slides his grasped hand upward, until Dean's purpling tip is caught in the crook of his thumb. Dean's eyes dart back and forth—from Cas to the ceiling and then back to Cas; occasionally falling low, trying to peek at just what would come next.
With a slow, strong swipe of his thumb, Cas collects every drop that he squeezed out of Dean; hitting each nerve ending along the way, causing Dean to thrash momentarily against his hand. Cas feels an evil grin crawl over his face, as Dean's wanton expressions change from pleasure, to fear, to almost-pain.
He moves his hand back down Dean's length, loving the feeling of his own finger tips, straining to touch each other around the girth. He glides faster, each time, paying special attention to the now-throbbing head of Dean's bulge. Cas hovers his lips close to the other, panting mouth, soaking up each whimper and inhale that he was making the man take. He finally drops, his lips choking out the cut off moans- filling Dean's mouth with the taste of his tongue. Cas pumps quicker still, holding his chest tightly to Dean's, calming the squirming body beneath him. Dean's jaw goes slack, and he vibrates against Cas's hand. Cas rips his lips away, taking one quick moment to revel in Dean's shocked expression, before breaking down, letting his head fall beside Dean's; the stick of his tongue sliding across the edge of the man's ear.
Dean grabs hard onto Castiel's wrist, nearly pulling him from his swelling cock. Dean's other hand clutches onto his friend's neck as he devours his earlobe. They sweat against each other, Dean writhing and rocking his hips with every swipe and strike of the man's grip.
Cas lets out a heavy raspy breath into Dean's ear; the closeness, the eagerness in the man's eyes, making him feel as if he is tipping over the edge as well. Goosebumps invade Dean's skin as he arches, hard. Castiel drinks in the sight as a smooth warmth spills out over his fingers in gentle gusts. After a couple more light strokes, he stills, waiting for Dean to relax his spine. He chases one last lick along the man's neck, making him tense slightly once more. He loosens his hold, sliding his circled fingers up, giving Dean's tip a final caress. Dean gasps, rounding out the sound with a heaving laugh.
"Jesus Christ, Cas!" Dean grunts, chest still jolting with each breath.
Cas relaxes his neck, letting his head rest on the freckled, firm shoulder beneath him, "I don't think he would approve of this either, Dean."