Raging
The rumble of his laughter fade as he stares back at Dean; but the loving cracks and carvings etched on his face over the length of their friendship, still remain-causing Dean to warm as he looks at each one. They hover there, smiling letting their hands graze together; the sensations making their bodies sway as eager feet beg them to move closer; but they are stagnant. Dean takes a lingering blink, needing just one moment to contemplate if he is seeing what is truly there or what he hopes to see—a happy Castiel, no longer wanting Dean gone and no longer holding deadened eyes to him. As the vivid green exposes itself once more to the air, it is welcomed by the sight of oceans and a waving smile, with tiny moons stitched just above it.
He can't help himself, not that he wants to. His hands slide up to the base of Castiel's skull and pull him in. Cas's lips seem to pause as Dean encases his own onto them. The wait is infuriating and Dean brings down his right hand to the small of Cas's back, yanking their bodies as close together as his muscles would allow. Cas still holds onto himself, breathing in, a smirk breaking through, between each of Dean's attacks.
"Damnit, Cas!" Dean chides, beaming at his friend, who is obviously loving the desperation in Dean's eyes.
Dean pulls him in again, letting his tongue glide between the man's lips, in order to taste every, wet ridge. Cas's head tilts a little and suddenly, Dean's mouth is being filled by Cas's own eagerness. Their arms curl around each other, tightening as teeth and lips clash. Dean finds himself needing the man's skin. He doesn't stop to question the thought, after everything he has put them through, he knows it's better now to just let himself go. Dean rips open Cas's shirt, letting the buttons fly and the loops fray. Cas releases his hold on Dean, as the cold air peaks his skin.
"This was a good shirt, Dean!" he groans; but Dean only laughs in response, before letting his hands smooth over Castiel's firm sides.
The loss of apparel is quickly forgotten, as he begins sucking and biting the straining tendons along the side of Dean's neck. Dean arches down and does the same to Cas's collar bone—licking the salt off every inch that meets his lips. Cas shudders and hums with the motions, and Dean feels the excitement rush down to his waist, making his jeans tighten. Cas moves his leg in between Dean's, somehow sensing Dean's hardened cock. Cas glides his thigh along the hiding, strained tip, making Dean gasp and wheeze away from the spot on Castiel's shoulder that he was currently teething.
"Cas . . ." Dean groans, hot breath collecting on his friend's chest, "I want to . . ."
Cas pulls away, and for a moment, Dean's stomach sinks, thinking that their day is about to repeat like a record skipping on the needle.
"You sure?" Cas whirrs quickly.
"Fuck yes." Dean shoots back, his eyes, singing around the green edges.
Before he can blink, Dean's forearm is caught in a firm grip. He's quickly being hauled down the hall and into Cas's bedroom. The man pulls him inside, looking back only to give Dean a mischievous grin, that seems new and eager on his friend's face; new and unbelievably sexy. Dean's cock jolts again and he lets the pull go slack before rushing Cas into the mattress. They fall, colliding together, a hollow thud of their chests, sounding out through the cool, night air. Dean straddles the dark haired man, uncurling from him for a moment only to rip off his own shirt. He smiles as Cas's eyes burn at the sight of him—the familiar blue, raging in the white. He feels his friend's hands glide up over the subtle, hard mounds on his stomach; a sensation that Dean was no stranger to, but this time—feeling almost as good as when Castiel finished him on the couch.
Dean curves back down over the man, loving the power behind Cas's tongue as it enters his mouth. Dean lets his fingers trace the Cas's hard lines; wondering at how he's been neglecting the guy's body all these years. He wishes he could go back in time, just so he would have seven more to inspect every inch of skin until it was all committed to memory. Dean bites onto Cas's bottom lip, as his traveling fingers finally find their way down to the button, pressing firm to Cas's waist. The moment he touches it, he feels Cas's jean-cloaked cock writhe beneath his own. The feeling is so new but undeniably exhilarating. He unfastens the button, letting the exposed heat slide along his stomach.
Dean pulls away an inch, eyes still closed, letting every other sense bathe in the moment, "Cas, will you help me do this?" he asks, finally, letting his eyes slit a little, only to see Cas's wide glare coming back at him. There was no concern this time, or pity- just the hunger that Dean felt he had waited his whole life to see.
"Yes" Cas breathes before pulling Dean's lips back into his own.