[Castiel] Thursday's child has far to go. (childofthursday) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-10-26 18:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, castiel, dean winchester |
Who: Castiel + Dean Winchester
What: Cas is feeling troubled, Dean cheers him up.
When: Oct 16th
Where: Their place
Rating: High. Married people doing adult things.
Status: Complete
Dean was aware of Cas getting up like he always was. Any time the bed moved or Cas breathed in a way that didn’t qualify as “normal” on the Dean Winchester scale of sounds that should be coming out of Cas’ mouth, Dean went from out cold to wide awake. Cas looked absolutely harried as he woke, didn’t bother to explain. Shit, he didn’t even bother to turn the light on. He just groped around in the dark for clothes like he was trying not to wake Dean up. Dean had tried to talk to him. He really had. Cas just seemed to be so damn fixated on whatever it was he was doing that he couldn’t hear Dean.
And then he was gone. Dean was really getting tired of angel crap and Cas hadn’t had his wings all that friggen long.
But then his husband was back just as abruptly, looking somehow even more broken than when he left. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asked roughly in the dark, knowing that Cas could hear his annoyance even now.
Of course he could hear it: Cas wasn't oblivious to when people were annoyed, particularly with him, and Dean certainly wasn't the first to be annoyed with him tonight.
He looked at Dean for a long moment, and even in the darkness, he found the eye contact he so often sought out.
"I don't know," he said, sounding slightly lost and a lot hurt. Absently, he pulled off the shirt that he'd thrown on in the darkness just a few minutes prior. "Samandriel… called. But then would not see me."
“He called?” Dean asked, brows raising. “What you got some kinda angel radio up there?” Cas was hurt, yeah, that much was clear, but shit his leaving had been abrupt and annoying and Dean would deal with Cas’ hurt through asking what the hell was happening. “The kid okay?”
"I don't know," Castiel said again, frowning this time and pushing his jeans off before sitting back down in the bed, the mattress not even squeaking under his weight. He didn't like not knowing. "I don't think so. I just… I heard it, Dean. My name. It sounded…." Heartbreaking. "But then he made me leave."
Dean moved forward to rest his hand between Cas’ shoulderblades. He couldn’t see his angel’s wings, or touch them, but he could offer comfort regardless. “Could just be dream crap,” he reasoned. “The kid does seem to get them...way too often.” It was disturbing was what it was, the rate that Samandriel was living their lives while he slept.
"Yes," Castiel agreed, more or less melting into Dean's touch. He hated waking up like this -- rushed, frantic. He wasn't a morning person on the best of days even with the ability to wake up slowly. Being torn from sleep didn't help at all. "Probably. I-- am very far behind in terms of dreams." And if he had to be honest, he didn't want to be caught up. Everything seemed bad.
“Look, he’s got Lucifer there, right? Maybe that’s all he needs right now.” He rubbed his hand gently against Castiel’s back. “Just get some sleep and text him in the morning or he’ll text you when he’s ready. I’m sure if shit’s really bad, Lucifer’ll say something.”
Twisting in the bed until he was facing Dean, Cas gave a little sigh. "Maybe," he agreed, slow, like he was still considering it, not quite believing the reassurance. "I feel useless." Everything was slower for him, he had knowledge and flight and really not much else. Time to adjust. It seemed unfair.
Dean shifted until he could be sure he had Cas’ full attention, their eyes locked onto each other. “You’re not useless,” he said firmly. “Not now, not ever.” He let that sink in and then before Cas could argue the point, continued. “Every morning when you wake me up, every time I look down at the ring on my hand or buy your damn soy milk and tofu, or you text me or anything else, and every night I go to bed and you’re still right there, I got a reminder that there’s someone in the world who loves me no matter how fucked up I am and I got a reason to keep living.” He cleared his throat. “You’re not useless, Cas. You keep me alive.”
It was unusual, but Castiel was the first to break the eye contact -- if only because he was pulling himself closer to Dean, taking up all of his personal space and leaving absolutely no room between them. He couldn't help it -- sometimes he just needed the touch along with the words. "I love you," he said, simply, because sometimes there weren't enough words to take form for all of his complex feelings.
Dean held Cas as tight as he could. “I know,” he said against dark, unruly hair. “I love you too.” ‘Course after all he just spewed out, if that needed to still be said, clearly Dean hadn’t done it right. “When the kid’s ready, he’ll talk. Might not be shit you wanna hear, but he’ll talk anyway.” Like hell they were gonna talk about this any longer, so Dean silenced whatever Cas’ response might’ve been with a kiss.
Honestly, Castiel preferred kissing over talking anyway -- particularly about things that he was unsure about. Samandriel, and his dreams of the future -- or the dream future, anyway, was definitely one of those things. So he did what made sense, he kissed Dean back like maybe his life depended on it, pressed himself closer yet until he was nearly in his husband's lap.
Nearly in his husband’s lap wasn’t good enough for Dean. He reached to pull Cas exactly there and then pinned him back down on the mattress. He was still learning Cas’ moods (given that Cas himself was probably still learning how to express them, this shouldn’t have been surprising,) but even Dean was pretty sure that his angel needed to focus completely on anything that wasn’t emotionally painful or to do with his younger brother. Dean could provide that.
It wasn't all that surprising, but Castiel did appreciate that as difficult as he was, Dean was making all those efforts to understand him. Better yet that he took everything a step further and could positively distract him in ways that absolutely no one else could.
"Hello," he murmured, almost shy as he wriggled underneath Dean into a position that was slightly more comfortable.
“Hey,” Dean said roughly, smirking as he pulled back and got Cas’ boxers off. “Know what I’m gonna do?” he said, mouthing his way with teeth and lips up his husband’s body.
Cas positively squirmed under the attention of teeth and lips, sucking in a little breath and then letting it all out again in a huff. "Something involving sexual gratification?" It wasn't exactly a question, considering the pleased lilt to his tone. Castiel still failed in terms of anything remotely close to dirty talk.
Dean let out a pleased hum against Cas’ throat before biting hard enough to leave a mark just there, dark and obvious when he was finished. “Gonna fuck you so hard the only words you remember are Dean and Please.”
The noise that Cas made over that was a whimper of a moan; he tilted his head back further in order to allot more space for Dean to work with. It was no secret that he wore those marks proudly until they faded (even if they were rather unprofessional at work).
"Yes, please," he murmured, because it was never a bad idea to get into practice.
“Good boy,” Dean murmured, shucking his own boxers and grabbing the lube from where it’d stubbornly stayed on the nightstand and getting straight to the point, fingers teasing Cas’ entrance almost immediately. “So good for me.”
Castiel appreciated this; appreciated that Dean absolutely knew he needed a distraction from his own thoughts and concerns and was more than willing to be that distraction in only the best of ways. It worked too, because as much as he might have loved his brother, Castiel really had eyes only for Dean.
Settling his hands on Dean's shoulders, the angel wriggled a little underneath his husband, shifted to press into those fingers. His appreciation would be shown through enthusiasm, considering he was being given the chance not to speak on anything.
Cas’ enthusiasm didn’t go unnoticed or unanswered, Dean’s fingers moving to adapt to all the angles he knew his angel liked best. He drew back enough to wrap the fingers of his other hand around Cas’ cock, stroking him in time with the punctuating thrusts of now three fingers.
Which was, simply put, absolutely perfect. It wasn't as if Dean didn't usually give him this sort of attention, but there was something very powerful about the fact that it was being given just for the benefit of peace of mind.
It was mostly just talent that had Cas' hips moving at just the right angle to be able to thrust slightly into Dean's hand and push forward against those fingers at the same time. It wasn't enough, but it was certainly holding the promise of getting there. "Dean," he said, and that wasn't begging -- but it too was getting there.
It was getting there and getting there was close enough. “Say my name again,” Dean said roughly, pulling his fingers out to slick up his cock. “Say it again and you can have what you want.”
Cas let out a little moan that was nearly sad when Dean pulled his fingers away -- although he knew only good things would come from it the resulting emptiness was nearly a distraction. The request was easy enough though - more than, really.
"Dean," he repeated, tilting his head forward a little and fixing his gaze, blue and not nearly as sharp as usual on Dean. God, how he wanted. "Please."
That was it. Dean could feel the desire in the air between them, thick and hot. He shifted Cas’ legs tight together over one shoulder, well aware that he knew how to balance this and the shift would only make him that much tighter. He pressed slowly forward into him. “Good boy, Castiel,” he moaned.
Good boy. It was absolutely, utterly ridiculous how that phrase did terrible and wonderful things to Castiel's stomach. It was like a burst of pride and delight that just made his insides twist up until it was nearly hard to breathe sometimes. Coupling that with Dean pushing inside of him -- it was nearly too much.
Twisting his fingers up into the sheets, Cas held on like maybe his life depended on it, murmured vague words of encouragement and only a second later had no idea what he'd said at all. It didn't seem to matter much.
It was a pretty good place to be in, but the fact of the matter was that after a while, he really wanted to kiss that filthy little mouth (and really, he was pretty sure at this point Cas had no idea the kinds of things he was whining. It was glorious,) so Dean paused just long enough to adjust Cas’ legs so he was between them instead.
He bent over him, hitching them higher against his waist and kissed him. His thrusts had been hard and fast, but now they were almost torturously slow, his mouth echoing what his hips were doing.
Cas was absolutely sure he was wrecked over this. He hooked a heel over his other ankle and squirmed against Dean, physically begging for more of that pressure from only a moment before. His kisses were nearly sloppy -- wet and hard against Dean's purposeful slowness, and Castiel whimpered and begged against his husband's lips. "Dean, please. More." A little mantra repeated, each word muffled and delayed by kisses.
Dean caught Castiel’s lower lip between his teeth. “More what, gorgeous?” he murmured, smiling wickedly against those poor, slightly chapped lips.
It he weren't so distracted, Castiel probably would have rolled his eyes at such obstinacy from Dean. It was more than a little obvious what he wanted more of, he thought.
But Dean liked this -- Cas knew that. Liked when he begged and asked properly. And if Cas had to be honest, he liked it too. "Dean," he said, tone entirely too rough, and fingers finding skin to touch instead of cotton and sheets. "Fuck me harder." It was just as much of a demand as it was begging, and even Cas wasn't sure how he managed that.
Those were the exact words that Dean wanted from Cas. His mouth found not lips, but neck, rough stubble catching against lips and teeth as he bit and sucked just under his jaw. His hips moved as they had before, nearly snapping as if to reinforce the claim he was leaving in so many spots all over Cas’ neck.
Appreciation was handed out in gasps and half broken moans, and the angel was only too glad to tilt his head back as far as it would go -- arching his back with the movement -- allowing Dean more space to work with and grinding his hips forward at the same time.
Dean guided one of Cas’ hands between his legs, not wanting to sacrifice the leverage both of his own arms were giving him to fuck into his husband harder in order to actually get him off. It was a very delicate balance, and he was almost completely positive that Cas would mind not at all.
“Do it,” he growled, nipping sharply at his earlobe. “For me.”
No, he really didn't mind, not even a little bit. It was really the best kind of permission and prompting and Cas curled his fingers around his own length nearly carefully - like if he went too wild with it everything would be over entirely too quickly.
"Yes," he said, and then repeated that twice more, practically babbling. "Dean."
“Cas,” Dean said, low and rough and found that he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. When he came, it was with his moan muffled into the skin of Castiel’s shoulder, teeth pressed against but not biting into. Losing himself into his angel was easy, no matter how guilty he felt about it after.
Cas' response wasn't vocal in a wordy sense, and probably no one should have been surprised at that. He moaned out some very firm approval, and didn't even need to race to catch up -- it only took a few strokes, just like he knew it would and Cas was adding to the mess, sticky in one of the only ways he never seemed to mind.
It was perfect, really. The kind of orgasm that had him nearly high and tingly -- he pulled Dean closer yet, tilting his head until his lips found any kind of skin to lay kisses on at all.
Dean shivered a little while he came down, lips finding Cas’ after a brief (too long) moment of searching. “Love you,” he rasped once he caught his breath again. He knew he needed to, but he didn’t particularly want to move from where he was just yet.
For the moment, Cas really didn't mind that Dean wasn't moving. There was something satisfying about his husband still being there, inside and on top of him. His weight was a reminder of the act just as much as the bite marks and bruises would be later on.
He smiled into the next kiss, nearly smug with it all. "You had better."