Castiel’s hands are everywhere on Dean, sliding over his shoulders, his chest, his groin, and he’s talking into Dean’s mouth as he kisses him. Dean can’t tell what he’s saying, but he doesn’t care as long as Castiel keeps rolling his hips downward against Dean’s. When Castiel reaches down to wrap a hand around Dean’s cock, Dean comes, pulling Castiel into a kiss with a hand on the back of his neck. Castiel follows moments later, turning his head to the side to breath heavily as he orgasms.
Castiel sinks down against Dean and rolls over, one hand splayed on Dean’s chest as they catch their breath. Dean’s foot is in a spilled puddle of paint, and he rubs it against Castiel’s ankle, turning them both purple.
“Fuck, Cas,” Dean says, turning his head to look at Castiel, who is staring back at him, slightly bug-eyed as though he can’t quite believe what just happened, “How long have you been planning to do that?”
“Planning?” Castiel says, “About an hour. Wanting… since the wool sweater.” Leave it to Castiel to measure time in his paintings, Dean thinks.
“Why now?” Dean asks. “If you tell me it’s because of this dress, I’m leaving. I’m not wearing this every time I wanna get fucked.”
“You didn’t get fucked,” Castiel says dryly. “Anyway, it’s not what you think. I don’t, it’s not that the dress is… maybe a little, but…” Castiel looks flustered, his cheeks coloring pink, and Dean chuckles. “I just thought if you weren’t interested, you might leave before I could finish the set. But then today—“
“Yeah?” Dean prompts.
“Well, I realized either you did this because you were very easy to convince, in which case I could convince you to stay even if I tried… that, and you weren’t interested. Or you did it for me because…” Castiel trails off and Dean finishes.
“Because I want to get in your pants.”
“Well, yes,” Castiel agrees.
Dean laughs again. “You’re not wrong.”
“Clearly,” Castiel says. His lips quirk up into a small smile, and Dean leans over to kiss him.
When he pulls back, Dean says, “I’m serious, I’m not wearing this again.” He pulls at the fabric of the dress he’s still wearing, wrinkled and smushed up on his chest.
“I still have to finish the painting,” Castiel reminds him, nodding toward the easel. Dean looks at him for a moment without saying anything, and Castiel stares back unblinking.
Finally, Dean relents. “Make it up to me,” he says.
“I’ll start right away,” Castiel promises, smoothing a hand down the fabric and over Dean’s chest. Dean pulls at him until Castiel rolls over to straddle him, a knee on each side of Dean’s legs. Castiel pushes the dress farther up and Dean lifts his upper body so he can slide it off, then Castiel kisses him again. “I promise,” he says, lips brushing against Dean’s as he talks, “I’ll make it worth your time.”
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Re: Supernatural: Dean/Castiel; AU, attention, crossdressing (NC-17)
Date: 2011-01-14 11:55 am (UTC)Castiel sinks down against Dean and rolls over, one hand splayed on Dean’s chest as they catch their breath. Dean’s foot is in a spilled puddle of paint, and he rubs it against Castiel’s ankle, turning them both purple.
“Fuck, Cas,” Dean says, turning his head to look at Castiel, who is staring back at him, slightly bug-eyed as though he can’t quite believe what just happened, “How long have you been planning to do that?”
“Planning?” Castiel says, “About an hour. Wanting… since the wool sweater.” Leave it to Castiel to measure time in his paintings, Dean thinks.
“Why now?” Dean asks. “If you tell me it’s because of this dress, I’m leaving. I’m not wearing this every time I wanna get fucked.”
“You didn’t get fucked,” Castiel says dryly. “Anyway, it’s not what you think. I don’t, it’s not that the dress is… maybe a little, but…” Castiel looks flustered, his cheeks coloring pink, and Dean chuckles. “I just thought if you weren’t interested, you might leave before I could finish the set. But then today—“
“Yeah?” Dean prompts.
“Well, I realized either you did this because you were very easy to convince, in which case I could convince you to stay even if I tried… that, and you weren’t interested. Or you did it for me because…” Castiel trails off and Dean finishes.
“Because I want to get in your pants.”
“Well, yes,” Castiel agrees.
Dean laughs again. “You’re not wrong.”
“Clearly,” Castiel says. His lips quirk up into a small smile, and Dean leans over to kiss him.
When he pulls back, Dean says, “I’m serious, I’m not wearing this again.” He pulls at the fabric of the dress he’s still wearing, wrinkled and smushed up on his chest.
“I still have to finish the painting,” Castiel reminds him, nodding toward the easel. Dean looks at him for a moment without saying anything, and Castiel stares back unblinking.
Finally, Dean relents. “Make it up to me,” he says.
“I’ll start right away,” Castiel promises, smoothing a hand down the fabric and over Dean’s chest. Dean pulls at him until Castiel rolls over to straddle him, a knee on each side of Dean’s legs. Castiel pushes the dress farther up and Dean lifts his upper body so he can slide it off, then Castiel kisses him again. “I promise,” he says, lips brushing against Dean’s as he talks, “I’ll make it worth your time.”