The force of Dean's kiss knocks the thought straight out of him, suddenly hungry for it and for all the things they've had before. Their friendship, the way they'd been comfortable with one another as if they'd always been that way. The intimacy, the touching, the solid need that flares through him, and Castiel clutches at him, slides his hands up his chest to hold him still and keep him there. He lets him kiss him like it's their last time, lips burning even when Dean speaks, and he shudders, the protest in him deep in his throat the second he tells him a lie.
It won't be all right. This is never all right. This is... ]
Don't do this.
[ His voice is low, a whisper that's hardly even audible despite how close they are, and he tries-- Castiel doesn't know what to do besides beg, and begging, he's found, is easy when all that's left is desperation.
His hands pull at his clothes then, pushing at the jacket Dean wears, and when it doesn't budge, he goes for his pants instead. He leans into him, mouth pressing anywhere he can that's skin--cheek, jaw, the curve of his neck. It's boiling through him how hard he has to convince Dean that it's okay, that he doesn't mind. That he would always need him more than the pain he feels in a moment of suffering. Castiel arches against him and tries to pull him as he takes a step backwards. The table isn't far-- He'll give him whatever he wants, anything at all, and this body hardly means what it should if he's bartering it for a little more of his time. ]
Please don't. Please — [ He pulls at the button of his jeans. you're all i have please ]
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The force of Dean's kiss knocks the thought straight out of him, suddenly hungry for it and for all the things they've had before. Their friendship, the way they'd been comfortable with one another as if they'd always been that way. The intimacy, the touching, the solid need that flares through him, and Castiel clutches at him, slides his hands up his chest to hold him still and keep him there. He lets him kiss him like it's their last time, lips burning even when Dean speaks, and he shudders, the protest in him deep in his throat the second he tells him a lie.
It won't be all right. This is never all right. This is... ]
Don't do this.
[ His voice is low, a whisper that's hardly even audible despite how close they are, and he tries-- Castiel doesn't know what to do besides beg, and begging, he's found, is easy when all that's left is desperation.
His hands pull at his clothes then, pushing at the jacket Dean wears, and when it doesn't budge, he goes for his pants instead. He leans into him, mouth pressing anywhere he can that's skin--cheek, jaw, the curve of his neck. It's boiling through him how hard he has to convince Dean that it's okay, that he doesn't mind. That he would always need him more than the pain he feels in a moment of suffering. Castiel arches against him and tries to pull him as he takes a step backwards. The table isn't far-- He'll give him whatever he wants, anything at all, and this body hardly means what it should if he's bartering it for a little more of his time. ]
Please don't. Please — [ He pulls at the button of his jeans. you're all i have please ]