They stood up, Castiel using his coat to hide the effect that Dean’s little show had caused. Dean noticed and gave a self satisfied smirk, which Castiel pretended not to notice, and followed closely behind Dean. Dean stopped short twice on the way out, and Castiel knew that he had done it on purpose, hoping Castiel would run into the back of him.
Maybe he was an angel who was doing something unheard of and having a hot, torrid affair with a man, but he was still an angel, and he wasn’t born yesterday.
Dean seemed almost disappointed. Castiel resisted the urge to smirk himself, that whatever sly, teasing, seductive response that Dean had obviously planned, would just have to wait.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Castiel grabbed a fistful of Dean’s jacket and moved them: a rush of wings, heat and blurred motion, until they were in the back alley. He didn’t wait for Dean to catch his breath, or complain that he ‘hated it when Castiel did that’.
Castiel shoved Dean against the rough brick wall and captured those coffee drinking, pie eating lips with his own. He took his time and savored each and every flavor as Dean had done in the diner. He identified the lingering taste of sweet, -apples, cinnamon, nutmeg- against the small hint of bitter as he suck lightly at Dean’s tongue until Dean gave a small moan, the same one Castiel had wanted to give just minutes before.
When Castiel was fully satisfied that he’d experienced the taste of coffee and apple pie to the utmost, he let Dean go. Panting, Dean looked at him, confused as to why he’d stopped. He bucked his hips against Castiel’s, grinding his hard cock against Castiel’s thigh, and hissing slightly in frustration that Castiel wasn’t doing anything.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Dean. Did you want some?” Castiel asked coyly, echoing Dean from earlier.
“You…oh come on,” Dean breathed, bucking again. Castiel took a step back.
“You’re kidding me,” Dean said, still out of breath, and leaning against the wall for support.
It was Castiel’s turn to give a self satisfied smirk, and Dean’s eyes went a little wide with realization. Castiel turned around and started walking out of the alley.
“Dude, you are not even…are you kidding me??” Dean called after him. His voice was exasperated.
Castiel had decided, sometimes between bites number five and six, that he was fine with being marked as Dean’s. As long as he knew that Dean was also his as well.
The sound of Dean’s hurrying steps after him, told Castiel that he was.
***
The end. Someone else will have to write what happens when they get back to the motel room. *waggles eyebrows* (Also OMG this goes nicely with the pretty pic you got of Misha and his tongue.)
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C.A.S. Pt 2/2
Date: 2009-04-17 09:02 pm (UTC)Maybe he was an angel who was doing something unheard of and having a hot, torrid affair with a man, but he was still an angel, and he wasn’t born yesterday.
Dean seemed almost disappointed. Castiel resisted the urge to smirk himself, that whatever sly, teasing, seductive response that Dean had obviously planned, would just have to wait.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Castiel grabbed a fistful of Dean’s jacket and moved them: a rush of wings, heat and blurred motion, until they were in the back alley. He didn’t wait for Dean to catch his breath, or complain that he ‘hated it when Castiel did that’.
Castiel shoved Dean against the rough brick wall and captured those coffee drinking, pie eating lips with his own. He took his time and savored each and every flavor as Dean had done in the diner. He identified the lingering taste of sweet, -apples, cinnamon, nutmeg- against the small hint of bitter as he suck lightly at Dean’s tongue until Dean gave a small moan, the same one Castiel had wanted to give just minutes before.
When Castiel was fully satisfied that he’d experienced the taste of coffee and apple pie to the utmost, he let Dean go. Panting, Dean looked at him, confused as to why he’d stopped. He bucked his hips against Castiel’s, grinding his hard cock against Castiel’s thigh, and hissing slightly in frustration that Castiel wasn’t doing anything.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Dean. Did you want some?” Castiel asked coyly, echoing Dean from earlier.
“You…oh come on,” Dean breathed, bucking again. Castiel took a step back.
“You’re kidding me,” Dean said, still out of breath, and leaning against the wall for support.
It was Castiel’s turn to give a self satisfied smirk, and Dean’s eyes went a little wide with realization. Castiel turned around and started walking out of the alley.
“Dude, you are not even…are you kidding me??” Dean called after him. His voice was exasperated.
Castiel had decided, sometimes between bites number five and six, that he was fine with being marked as Dean’s. As long as he knew that Dean was also his as well.
The sound of Dean’s hurrying steps after him, told Castiel that he was.
***
The end. Someone else will have to write what happens when they get back to the motel room. *waggles eyebrows* (Also OMG this goes nicely with the pretty pic you got of Misha and his tongue.)