Actually thinking of posting some of this to the Vault myself:
He pushed Castiel off and turned for the door again, only to be caught mid-motion and slammed back into place, the plaster creaking with the force of his impact. Castiel pressed his body close, locking off any escape and it felt right, it felt good – this was what he came for – to ease the pain in both of them, to feel this, to find pleasure in Dean, in his body, his touch.
He caught Dean’s lips in a bruising kiss, capturing his wrists and holding them away as he pinned Winchester against the wall, knee coming up between his thighs to make escape impossible. Dean struggled against him, trying to turn his head away, break off the kiss – but Castiel was having none of it, tongue darting out to deepen the contact, his frustration at Dean’s resistance forcing him to nip at those soft lips until they opened for him, allowing him inside.
He curled his tongue around Dean’s, the taste of blood on his lips coppery, exciting, as he increased the pressure, chest to chest, his hips grinding into him, finding the sweet spot, the perfect place to position himself for maximum friction. Dean moaned low in his throat, the delicious sound vibrating straight to Castiel’s dick, goading him to thrust against Winchester’s thigh, feeling that same muscle flex against him, encouraging him as he hardened, all that anger, pain and lust driving him to rut mercilessly against him, all thoughts of restraint, of this being worse than a bad idea, of taking it easy blinded by need and fear.
He came up for air, drinking in with a small amount of wicked satisfaction the mussed, twisted features of his charge – blood smeared across his lips, eyes heavy with dark emotion, chest heaving as he fought for air. Dean flexed his thigh again and a smirk flitted across his face as Castiel groaned, hips surging back to meet it, his grip on Dean’s wrists tightening down, almost crushing as he fought for control.
“ This…this is why you see me,” he panted, licking his own blood from the corner of his mouth. “ I was Alistair’s pet whore – did you know that? I was good at it too, I could fuck like –”
“ Shut up,” Castiel growled. “ You will not make me let you go.”
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2010-02-20 08:00 am (UTC)*Shivers*
Actually thinking of posting some of this to the Vault myself:
He pushed Castiel off and turned for the door again, only to be caught mid-motion and slammed back into place, the plaster creaking with the force of his impact. Castiel pressed his body close, locking off any escape and it felt right, it felt good – this was what he came for – to ease the pain in both of them, to feel this, to find pleasure in Dean, in his body, his touch.
He caught Dean’s lips in a bruising kiss, capturing his wrists and holding them away as he pinned Winchester against the wall, knee coming up between his thighs to make escape impossible. Dean struggled against him, trying to turn his head away, break off the kiss – but Castiel was having none of it, tongue darting out to deepen the contact, his frustration at Dean’s resistance forcing him to nip at those soft lips until they opened for him, allowing him inside.
He curled his tongue around Dean’s, the taste of blood on his lips coppery, exciting, as he increased the pressure, chest to chest, his hips grinding into him, finding the sweet spot, the perfect place to position himself for maximum friction. Dean moaned low in his throat, the delicious sound vibrating straight to Castiel’s dick, goading him to thrust against Winchester’s thigh, feeling that same muscle flex against him, encouraging him as he hardened, all that anger, pain and lust driving him to rut mercilessly against him, all thoughts of restraint, of this being worse than a bad idea, of taking it easy blinded by need and fear.
He came up for air, drinking in with a small amount of wicked satisfaction the mussed, twisted features of his charge – blood smeared across his lips, eyes heavy with dark emotion, chest heaving as he fought for air. Dean flexed his thigh again and a smirk flitted across his face as Castiel groaned, hips surging back to meet it, his grip on Dean’s wrists tightening down, almost crushing as he fought for control.
“ This…this is why you see me,” he panted, licking his own blood from the corner of his mouth. “ I was Alistair’s pet whore – did you know that? I was good at it too, I could fuck like –”
“ Shut up,” Castiel growled. “ You will not make me let you go.”
*Shrugs*
Maybe one day...