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janie_tangerineTitle: and I'd claw at your heart
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: er, riding? Is that a warning?
Words: 1512
Summary: And he just couldn’t bear it if Cas decided that he was really done with all this nonsense. Or with him.
Spoilers: up until 5x18, then goes AU.
Disclaimer: SPN isn't mine, like it's news whatsoever.
A/N: originally written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bold_seer for the five acts meme; the prompts were begging, Cas' trench coat, low voices and hurt/comfort. Another coda to 5x18 that got thoroughly fucked by canon, therefore AU. Title from Leonard Cohen.
Three years ago, Dean would have burned from shame at the bare thought of doing this.
Three years ago, he just never bent down in front of anyone, period. Right, his father being an exception, but.
Three years ago, he would have never even thought of saying sorry to anyone that wasn’t family.
Three years ago, he would have never said please sounding as humble as he had just a handful of minutes ago. He never has sounded like this, with the aforementioned exceptions.
But the last three years have taught him a lot of things.
One of which is, when he has fucked up enough that he can’t just hope to solve things with a quirk and a joke.
Forty years in Hell teach you things, and then someone pulls you out and sacrifices everything for you and you don’t even get why; and then Dean let him down so hard that well, he deserved that do-over that Cas gave him.
And he just couldn’t bear it if Cas decided that he was really done with all this nonsense.
Or with him.
And so he said it, his voice wrecked and cracking on each word, because it took him long enough, but he realized that even if he’s okay with Sam (and thank fuck he is, he couldn’t physically bear it anymore even if he was digging his own grave, in that respect), he can’t do this if Cas isn’t with them. And he hadn’t even expected to see him pop up next to him on the car, parked in Bobby’s yard, to be honest. After two days of unanswered messages on that ridiculous voicemail, he had started to lose hope.
He hadn’t expected Cas to stare at him for a minute, his eyes cold as ice at the beginning and then looking like a mixture between surprised and thankful and hurt and a lot of other things that Dean wishes he never was a catalyst for; he hadn’t expected Cas to move hesitantly closer and press his lips to Dean’s for a second after whispering you didn’t do it.
He hadn’t thought that as soon as it happened, he’d have been so eager to do anything to actually show Cas how much exactly he needs him there. Took him long enough to realize that he hadn’t been totally joking when asking Cas to blow him, too. He might have changed his mind for Sam, but what Cas said before had made him feel like shame embodied and he just can’t stand the idea of Cas giving up on him when he has been the only one who never had.
Which is why Dean had just left the driver’s seat in a single motion and ended sitting on Cas’ lap just after, and he had shivered when Cas’ hands had tentatively reached his hips. He hadn’t expected Cas to say that there wasn’t the need, and he hadn’t expected to shut him up with a kiss that he hopes sounded like the apology it was meant to be, and then to whisper again, his voice still cracking, yes I want to.
If you told him three years ago that one day he would keep himself up for enough time to open Cas’ trousers and take out his already-quite-hard cock (because of him) and that then he’d have reached for some Vaseline they kept for emergency in the dashboard before slicking himself quickly, while Cas watched with wide eyes and his lips slightly parted, and then lowering himself down, he’d have laughed in your face.
He doesn’t move for a short while, and barely notices that the car’s windows are slightly steamed up; he slowly reaches out and opens Cas’ shirt, letting out a breath of relief when he sees flawless skin instead of the scar he was expecting to find. His hands suddenly go to Cas’ coat then, gripping the lapels, tugging the angel closer, but he still can’t move, not really adjusted to this or to the feeling of being intruded, because that’s not what he does. Not what he usually does.
This until Cas’ hands reach his hips again and squeeze, and fuck, Cas might be fallen but he still is stronger than him, and then Dean really stops thinking that much as he starts lifting his hips up and down, up, down, up, down, and if Cas at one point actually moves his hands trying to set a pace, he follows it.
Cas’ face is flushed now, and Dean grips the coat closer; the steam on the windows is getting thicker by the second, and fuck, Cas’ voice sounds wrecked too, low and coming right from the back of his throat as he barely manages Dean’s name. Fuck, he hopes that Cas gets it. That Dean won’t ever go as far as saying I deserved it, but that he’s saying it like this. And that he can’t handle it if he loses someone just when he has finally managed to put himself back together enough. Fuck, he never, never lets anyone inside, metaphorically and physically, and now he’s voluntarily doing this in his own car, holding on to the damn ugly coat like a lifeline, and he wishes he’d stop begging for something that he never even specifies but he’s not in control of his own actions, or so it seems.
He doesn’t expect Cas’ eyes to go from the initial coldness to that frail mix of emotions of before, to amazement, to the softest gaze he has ever set on Dean before he hooks a hand around his neck and puts the other one on the small of Dean’s back. He uses the latter to slow him down and the former to bring his head closer and kiss him on the bruise that Cas himself put on Dean’s mouth, so softly that it aches.
“Dean,” he breathes, the voice impossibly low, “I won’t… can’t… apologize for this, but for what I said after… I owe you. I should have never said that. I… don’t mean it anymore.”
Dean’s throat feels choked, and suddenly it doesn’t matter that at some point Cas had meant it. Dean didn’t do zilch to prove him wrong, anyway.
“You don’t?”
“No. And please, do not… feel like you have to…”
“I need to,” Dean blurts, ashamed at how needy he sounds (but he is, he is, everyone who pays attention for five minutes gets it apparently), and he moves again.
Cas lets out a moan and kisses him again, as Dean keeps on going slowly because he figured out that Cas apparently likes it better, and fuck, Cas definitely got harder while inside him and while the angle isn’t exactly perfect it feels good, better than he’d have ever thought it could be, maybe because Cas’ voice sounding so hoarse and pleased is having effects (he’s doing things right apparently, and that’d be the time he starts not fucking up). Cas’ hand on his back suddenly pushes him forward as Cas shivers and thrusts up and comes inside him with a moan that should just not be legal, and then the hand on Dean’s neck moves down and well, Cas might as well have just lost his virginity but it takes just a couple of strokes before Dean comes too, in a blinding rush, in fucking relief, still saying fuck, Cas, please, and if word crack even more on his tongue as he speaks, he doesn’t care.
He barely has the strength to slide off, after; he just can’t bring himself to physically move from Cas’ lap, his head on the angel’s shoulder, his fists still clutching the coat so hard that it hurts amongst the pleasant, warm sensation currently filling his nerves. His vision is blurry and he feels boneless, exhausted, high on something he can’t even define, most definitely not coherent. And then that hand which hadn’t moved from the small of his back disappears just to reach Dean’s head. Long fingers are suddenly buried in his hair and then they start smoothing it slowly, carefully, and so gently that Dean can’t really manage to keep his fists that clenched. So he lets the lapels go even if he keeps his head on the coat and his hands on Cas’ shoulders, and he weirdly doesn’t think he has felt so peaceful in… he can’t even remember how much time.
“So… we’re okay?” he mutters, not wanting to ruin the moment but needing to be sure. “You aren’t… having second thoughts, are you?”
“I was never planning on going anywhere else,” Cas whispers, and his voice is fucking vibrating next to Dean’s ear. “I wouldn’t have even if you… had done it.”
“I won’t,” Dean blurts, too fast, and Cas’ fingers start rubbing circles at his nape.
“I know,” and then Cas doesn’t talk anymore but he doesn’t disappear on him either, and since Dean doesn’t really want to change the status of things, he breathes with his mouth right next to the coat’s fabric and he doesn’t move an inch.
End.
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: er, riding? Is that a warning?
Words: 1512
Summary: And he just couldn’t bear it if Cas decided that he was really done with all this nonsense. Or with him.
Spoilers: up until 5x18, then goes AU.
Disclaimer: SPN isn't mine, like it's news whatsoever.
A/N: originally written for
bold_seer for the five acts meme; the prompts were begging, Cas' trench coat, low voices and hurt/comfort. Another coda to 5x18 that got thoroughly fucked by canon, therefore AU. Title from Leonard Cohen.Three years ago, Dean would have burned from shame at the bare thought of doing this.
Three years ago, he just never bent down in front of anyone, period. Right, his father being an exception, but.
Three years ago, he would have never even thought of saying sorry to anyone that wasn’t family.
Three years ago, he would have never said please sounding as humble as he had just a handful of minutes ago. He never has sounded like this, with the aforementioned exceptions.
But the last three years have taught him a lot of things.
One of which is, when he has fucked up enough that he can’t just hope to solve things with a quirk and a joke.
Forty years in Hell teach you things, and then someone pulls you out and sacrifices everything for you and you don’t even get why; and then Dean let him down so hard that well, he deserved that do-over that Cas gave him.
And he just couldn’t bear it if Cas decided that he was really done with all this nonsense.
Or with him.
And so he said it, his voice wrecked and cracking on each word, because it took him long enough, but he realized that even if he’s okay with Sam (and thank fuck he is, he couldn’t physically bear it anymore even if he was digging his own grave, in that respect), he can’t do this if Cas isn’t with them. And he hadn’t even expected to see him pop up next to him on the car, parked in Bobby’s yard, to be honest. After two days of unanswered messages on that ridiculous voicemail, he had started to lose hope.
He hadn’t expected Cas to stare at him for a minute, his eyes cold as ice at the beginning and then looking like a mixture between surprised and thankful and hurt and a lot of other things that Dean wishes he never was a catalyst for; he hadn’t expected Cas to move hesitantly closer and press his lips to Dean’s for a second after whispering you didn’t do it.
He hadn’t thought that as soon as it happened, he’d have been so eager to do anything to actually show Cas how much exactly he needs him there. Took him long enough to realize that he hadn’t been totally joking when asking Cas to blow him, too. He might have changed his mind for Sam, but what Cas said before had made him feel like shame embodied and he just can’t stand the idea of Cas giving up on him when he has been the only one who never had.
Which is why Dean had just left the driver’s seat in a single motion and ended sitting on Cas’ lap just after, and he had shivered when Cas’ hands had tentatively reached his hips. He hadn’t expected Cas to say that there wasn’t the need, and he hadn’t expected to shut him up with a kiss that he hopes sounded like the apology it was meant to be, and then to whisper again, his voice still cracking, yes I want to.
If you told him three years ago that one day he would keep himself up for enough time to open Cas’ trousers and take out his already-quite-hard cock (because of him) and that then he’d have reached for some Vaseline they kept for emergency in the dashboard before slicking himself quickly, while Cas watched with wide eyes and his lips slightly parted, and then lowering himself down, he’d have laughed in your face.
He doesn’t move for a short while, and barely notices that the car’s windows are slightly steamed up; he slowly reaches out and opens Cas’ shirt, letting out a breath of relief when he sees flawless skin instead of the scar he was expecting to find. His hands suddenly go to Cas’ coat then, gripping the lapels, tugging the angel closer, but he still can’t move, not really adjusted to this or to the feeling of being intruded, because that’s not what he does. Not what he usually does.
This until Cas’ hands reach his hips again and squeeze, and fuck, Cas might be fallen but he still is stronger than him, and then Dean really stops thinking that much as he starts lifting his hips up and down, up, down, up, down, and if Cas at one point actually moves his hands trying to set a pace, he follows it.
Cas’ face is flushed now, and Dean grips the coat closer; the steam on the windows is getting thicker by the second, and fuck, Cas’ voice sounds wrecked too, low and coming right from the back of his throat as he barely manages Dean’s name. Fuck, he hopes that Cas gets it. That Dean won’t ever go as far as saying I deserved it, but that he’s saying it like this. And that he can’t handle it if he loses someone just when he has finally managed to put himself back together enough. Fuck, he never, never lets anyone inside, metaphorically and physically, and now he’s voluntarily doing this in his own car, holding on to the damn ugly coat like a lifeline, and he wishes he’d stop begging for something that he never even specifies but he’s not in control of his own actions, or so it seems.
He doesn’t expect Cas’ eyes to go from the initial coldness to that frail mix of emotions of before, to amazement, to the softest gaze he has ever set on Dean before he hooks a hand around his neck and puts the other one on the small of Dean’s back. He uses the latter to slow him down and the former to bring his head closer and kiss him on the bruise that Cas himself put on Dean’s mouth, so softly that it aches.
“Dean,” he breathes, the voice impossibly low, “I won’t… can’t… apologize for this, but for what I said after… I owe you. I should have never said that. I… don’t mean it anymore.”
Dean’s throat feels choked, and suddenly it doesn’t matter that at some point Cas had meant it. Dean didn’t do zilch to prove him wrong, anyway.
“You don’t?”
“No. And please, do not… feel like you have to…”
“I need to,” Dean blurts, ashamed at how needy he sounds (but he is, he is, everyone who pays attention for five minutes gets it apparently), and he moves again.
Cas lets out a moan and kisses him again, as Dean keeps on going slowly because he figured out that Cas apparently likes it better, and fuck, Cas definitely got harder while inside him and while the angle isn’t exactly perfect it feels good, better than he’d have ever thought it could be, maybe because Cas’ voice sounding so hoarse and pleased is having effects (he’s doing things right apparently, and that’d be the time he starts not fucking up). Cas’ hand on his back suddenly pushes him forward as Cas shivers and thrusts up and comes inside him with a moan that should just not be legal, and then the hand on Dean’s neck moves down and well, Cas might as well have just lost his virginity but it takes just a couple of strokes before Dean comes too, in a blinding rush, in fucking relief, still saying fuck, Cas, please, and if word crack even more on his tongue as he speaks, he doesn’t care.
He barely has the strength to slide off, after; he just can’t bring himself to physically move from Cas’ lap, his head on the angel’s shoulder, his fists still clutching the coat so hard that it hurts amongst the pleasant, warm sensation currently filling his nerves. His vision is blurry and he feels boneless, exhausted, high on something he can’t even define, most definitely not coherent. And then that hand which hadn’t moved from the small of his back disappears just to reach Dean’s head. Long fingers are suddenly buried in his hair and then they start smoothing it slowly, carefully, and so gently that Dean can’t really manage to keep his fists that clenched. So he lets the lapels go even if he keeps his head on the coat and his hands on Cas’ shoulders, and he weirdly doesn’t think he has felt so peaceful in… he can’t even remember how much time.
“So… we’re okay?” he mutters, not wanting to ruin the moment but needing to be sure. “You aren’t… having second thoughts, are you?”
“I was never planning on going anywhere else,” Cas whispers, and his voice is fucking vibrating next to Dean’s ear. “I wouldn’t have even if you… had done it.”
“I won’t,” Dean blurts, too fast, and Cas’ fingers start rubbing circles at his nape.
“I know,” and then Cas doesn’t talk anymore but he doesn’t disappear on him either, and since Dean doesn’t really want to change the status of things, he breathes with his mouth right next to the coat’s fabric and he doesn’t move an inch.
End.
