Off His Edge
This point of view was always Dean's favorite. Something about looking down at eyes looking up at him, as somebody eats him alive—it made his knees weak. The mix of vulnerability and strength, how he could so easily choke someone or be bitten to pieces; it was a tightrope walk and Dean, for once, wasn't afraid of the height. This rope was different though. It wasn't rope at all, it was fucking fishing line; invisible and with seemingly no end in sight. A clear string, strung across two blue oceans, a thousand miles high, with white clouds all around—nothing has ever been more terrifying, more exciting . . . more desired in Dean's life.
Cas starts with his hands—idyllic, precise strokes after that first little kiss on Dean's tip. He never breaks eye contact, only blinking every so often and each time, it is slow, calculated. The azure disappears and then inches back, rocking at the top of his sockets. Dean almost explodes right there—the look is enough. How the hell is that enough? He tries to think about it, tries to decipher what it means that a few little tugs and two giant eyes from this man is plenty to make him want to topple over himself in vicious heaves. Dean tries to think, but then Cas's lips wrap around his tip, sucking just a little. Dean watches as Castiel's cheeks hollow around him. The soft, stick of his tongue swivels around the head of his cock, making Dean the first one to look away in this overwhelming game of chicken. He can't help it, he has to jerk his head to the side because the pull from Cas's mouth intensifies- it makes him flinch and shake. After a few more brutal seconds, Cas releases, sliding off him with a pop. Dean looks at his friend again, watching him leave his lips parted, dragging hot breaths across his tender skin—just staring up at him. Dean throbs once more, loving the pressure of Cas's hand on the base of his shaft.
"Is this okay, Dean?" Cas asks, his voice still wrecked and low, sliding a tight grip up Dean's length.
"Jesus!" Dean blurts out, mid-nod, just before tossing his head back and giving a few amazed looks to the ceiling.
He feels Castiel return him to his mouth, this time, sliding him deeper inside until Dean can feel the soft palate just beyond the ridges above his tongue. Dean's right knee gives and he jerks down a little, causing the tip of his cock to pull back and catch on Cas's teeth. The man pulls away instantly, a look of horror curving his giant, blue eyes.
"I'm sorry! Did that hurt?" he chokes out.
It did a little but Dean doesn't dare make the man feel bad, especially since he is currently doing what he's doing. Dean just shakes his head and smiles at Cas, loving how that is all it takes to bring his friend off his edge. Cas nods, giving another soft stroke with his hand before collecting Dean's throbbing bulge into his mouth once again. He moves slower but more continuously now. Up and down, letting his tongue slide from the base of Dean's shaft, all the way to his head; making Dean wobble in place; making him have to arch his back inward to shift his weight to steady himself. The motion pushes his cock deeper down Cas's throat and he hears the man gag a little. Now Dean is the one looking broken, as if he just cracked Castiel in two. He starts to pull back but Cas catches him, quickly at his hips, pulling Dean further in. The strength within the man's arms is still surprising; even though Dean has felt its force multiple times today. Cas gobbles him down, choking himself slightly but still under complete control of his tongue. Dean lets out a growling moan, knowing the shocked, gaping expression on his face is probably ridiculous; but each time Cas opens his eyes and looks back up at Dean, he seems to grow more furious by what he sees. Sucking faster, bobbing his head further, swallowing Dean more and more. Dean feels himself start to roll out—the muscles in his cock clenching and pulling from within, wanting so bad to release.
"Cas!" Dean gasps, not knowing what else to say—he wants to warn him, he doesn't know if Cas had thought ahead to this point; he sure as hell didn't.
Castiel closes his eyes one more time, slowly reopening to send a final, penetrating gaze up at Dean; a deep growl vibrates from his throat, all the way around Dean's tightened cock. Cas digs his fingers into Dean's hips, pulling the rest of the throbbing shaft in, as hard as he can manage. Dean slams into the back of the man's throat, feeling the smooth, wet give on his head. He nearly falls over, letting his hands drop onto Castiel's shoulders, gripping them hard, wanting to shut his eyes and let the heat inside him pour out into Castiel's mouth; but he keeps his eyes open, needing to watch his friend suck him down.
Cas matches his stare, pressing his tongue hard to the underside of Dean's shaft. Dean breaks- his shoulders jutting out, nails cutting into Cas's skin, feeling himself empty hot, wild streams against the curving pink inside the man's mouth. The focused blues still don't blink—they just grow wider, and his suction more intense as he tries to gain enough traction to swallow before Dean starts to spill out of the corners of his mouth. The extra pressure makes Dean wheeze, shaking his head hard from side to side, finally squinting his eyes closed. He feels Cas swallow the last of his load, and slowly inch back, until Dean's tip frees itself from the pull.
Hard, raspy breathes fall from Castiel's mouth; his lips are bright pink, heavily contrasted by his dark, unshaven face. Dean is still curled over, shaking hands holding tightly to Cas's shoulders for support; before finally letting gravity win and falling to his knees. Dean sinks down, letting go of the superior perspective. His hands release from their holds and slide across the bare front of the man's body. Dean kneels there, heaving, muscles jolting, his hands resting atop his friend's thighs, feeling himself get heavier and heavier—until he finally drops his head to rest on Cas's knee.