he stiffens (heh) and slaps both hands in front of his crotch when he catches dean looking. as though cas ever would have cared before this very moment. ]
[ He'll refrain from tickling for now, instead carefully giving him a long scrub. Sensuous, not that he realizes what he's doing. It's really intimate, he thinks - definitely a shared moment, cause Dean's never seen Cas' wings and he's pretty sure this is some major trust. ]
[ he's good. but he's breathless for all matter of reasons. his arousal spikes, but where he thinks it might peak and settle it only grows and grows the longer dean has his hands on him. he's so embarrassed he could pop. ]
[ he looks back at dean over his shoulder, red-faced and miserable in a way that isn't truly miserable. there's a softness there— it's funny to him that dean didn't realize. ]
No one's ever touched my wings like this. When they're non-corporeal, they don't need to be groomed. But since the Fall...
[ well, he doesn't want to talk or think about that. but suffice to say, it's different than it used to be. he's more closely attached to this vessel than he was. ]
What I mean to say is, since we don't have a physical body, or genitals, we don't experience arousal in our true forms. I didn't expect this to, uh... Result.
[ He doesn't press that aspect, the Fall. It's sensitive, and Dean's not trying to pick a fight. Cas just...trusted the wrong angel. Dean's trusted the wrong people, too. ]
[ he ruined absolutely everything— but he can only do so much to fix it. he's thankful that dean doesn't drag him over the coals for it, because he's already done that enough himself. ]
It is... strange.
[ he glances back again, but quickly looks away as he rubs the back of his neck. ]
When I was human, it was relentless. The slightest perturbance would— or nothing at all. I've never had this problem as an angel.
Well, us humans sometimes just get like that. Sometimes it's just, y'know. There.
[ Morning wood, all that jazz. It doesn't happen often to Dean anymore, he's grown mostly out of the stick his dick in everything phase, and while he thinks chicks are hot he doesn't really pop a bone while looking at them. You gotta work for that. ]
[ castiel, on the other hand, never had to deal with hormones before that precipitous time in his life. it's not so bad now that he has grace again, even if it isn't his own grace, but apparently dean can still get a rise out of him.
he licks his lips and swallows around the lump in his throat. ]
I'm a little embarrassed. I know it must make you uncomfortable.
[ he assumes that dean is just saying that for his benefit, but, well, he appreciates it anyway. of course, then he has to go and put his hand on his shoulder, and the skin on skin contact rings through him like a bell. there's a small, soft hitch in his breath, which he hopes that the sound of the water covers. ]
[ The water still falls, splashes over them, droplets on old tile
yellowed with age. Dean licks his lips and ignores the things that stir in
his belly; naked under running water with another man - his friend, his
best friend - he’s losing track of what’s real what isn’t. Air is thick and
friends are strangers and Dean can’t tell up from down. Shame he doesn’t
have a drink. ]
Do you, uh. Want help with it? Dunno if you know what to do with it.
[ he would protest that he does know how to masturbate, thanks, but before he gets his mouth open to stick his foot into it, it occurs to him he has to concede his technique may leave a little to be desired. perhaps it's that rarely spotted self-preservation instinct, or his dedication to taking things too literally.
either way, he realizes dean is offering.
his chin jerks, though he doesn't quite manage to look back over his shoulder. ]
[ It would be insanely stupid for Cas to turn down Dean’s offer.
It’s not like he does this regularly, slip into the shower with other men,
press close, slide hands over wings, carefully pull broken feathers, ask if
they need pointers on how to handle a bone they’re not used to dealing
with. ]
Take it in your hand.
[ Moving close is hard, pressing between spread wings and the joint
of them against Cas’ back, a hand dropping to grip his hip, fingers
pressing into skin. ]
Don’t jerk, stroke. Nice and slow. It’s all in the movement, right? Skin on
skin. It’s nice.
[ yeah, sure. he can do all that. as soon as he stops internally combusting.
dean crowds in close, hot at his back, and he moves almost as though by rote, like a machine. his hand drops to his hard cock and his fingers grip around it, a breath rushing in through his nose to hitch in the back of his throat at the sudden deluge of pure sensation. he had known he was aroused, obviously, but he'd never actually considered taking care of it.
he hadn't prepared himself for how good it'd feel.
but he has a little bit of trouble following dean's directions in his nervous haste— squeezing too tight, moving his hand too stiffly. it doesn't feel bad, but it isn't what dean told him to do. ]
[ The wings present a small problem- he can’t quite press up against Cas’ back, but he likes them out. It’s.. kinda wild, a literal angel in the bathroom of a shoddy motel, a place that peaked in the 50s with greasers and black leather jackets. The shower shows its age, mold across the caulk despite the owners best attempts, the ancient shower head, the towels that feel like they’ve been washed too many times.
But the water stays hot, and Dean finds a way to rest his chin on Cas’ shoulder, his hand sliding from hip to thigh to inner thigh, a huffed chuckle in his throat. ]
Slower. Don’t squeeze so tight. You’re not trying to stop a water hose.
[ it has a certain ambiance— familiar. he likes it despite himself, and the dirty tiles, and the stained shower curtain that's currently in a pile on the floor. dean's hand is rough and warm on the soft skin of his inner thigh, and for several seconds he forgets to breathe.
but he does as dean instructs, loosening his grip. it feels better, feels so good, in fact, that it pulls a moan out of him. ]
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he stiffens (heh) and slaps both hands in front of his crotch when he catches dean looking. as though cas ever would have cared before this very moment. ]
What?
Is that a reference.
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Uh huh. Pretty sure it's called doggy style.
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[ he has no idea they're talking about sex. ]
Do you... prefer doggy style, Dean?
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...I'm talking about sex, here. And yeah, don't mind it sometimes.
[ casually talking about this face to face with a naked dude who happens to be his bestie. noooo biggie ]
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whatever he was going to stay clearly isn't relevant. ]
Oh.
[ a naked aroused dude. it's an important distinction. ]
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What? He's watched gay porn.
He wets his lips, and clears his throat. ]
D'you wanna finish?
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[ his face flares hot. and then it strikes him what dean means, and he turns around on a dime to hide behind his wings. ]
Yes.
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Okay. Stay still.
[ He'll refrain from tickling for now, instead carefully giving him a long scrub. Sensuous, not that he realizes what he's doing. It's really intimate, he thinks - definitely a shared moment, cause Dean's never seen Cas' wings and he's pretty sure this is some major trust. ]
You good?
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I'm— I'm fine. I just didn't expect—
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[ He grins to himself, running his hands up and down the length, totally non-sexual. ]
Didn't expect you to be, either.
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[ oh, god. ]
D-Dean—!
[ look. he's just gonna come out and say it. ]
You're making me very aroused when you do that!
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Oh, shit-
[ AWKWARD. ]
Sorry, dude. [ He drops his hands with a coughed laugh, cheeks red. ] Sensitive, I guess?
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[ he looks back at dean over his shoulder, red-faced and miserable in a way that isn't truly miserable. there's a softness there— it's funny to him that dean didn't realize. ]
No one's ever touched my wings like this. When they're non-corporeal, they don't need to be groomed. But since the Fall...
[ well, he doesn't want to talk or think about that. but suffice to say, it's different than it used to be. he's more closely attached to this vessel than he was. ]
What I mean to say is, since we don't have a physical body, or genitals, we don't experience arousal in our true forms. I didn't expect this to, uh... Result.
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[ He doesn't press that aspect, the Fall. It's sensitive, and Dean's not trying to pick a fight. Cas just...trusted the wrong angel. Dean's trusted the wrong people, too. ]
Bet it's weird to have a boner all of a sudden.
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It is... strange.
[ he glances back again, but quickly looks away as he rubs the back of his neck. ]
When I was human, it was relentless. The slightest perturbance would— or nothing at all. I've never had this problem as an angel.
[ and now he's looking down at his boner like >:(
why are you doing this to him? ]
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[ Morning wood, all that jazz. It doesn't happen often to Dean anymore, he's grown mostly out of the stick his dick in everything phase, and while he thinks chicks are hot he doesn't really pop a bone while looking at them. You gotta work for that. ]
Don't be embarrassed.
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he licks his lips and swallows around the lump in his throat. ]
I'm a little embarrassed. I know it must make you uncomfortable.
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[ It's Cas. It's not like he's in some gym locker room and dudes are trying to peep his dick.
He shrugs, not that Cas can see it. He does lean in, tries to work around the wings and rest a hand on his shoulder. ]
Promise.
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Thank— Thank you.
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[ The water still falls, splashes over them, droplets on old tile yellowed with age. Dean licks his lips and ignores the things that stir in his belly; naked under running water with another man - his friend, his best friend - he’s losing track of what’s real what isn’t. Air is thick and friends are strangers and Dean can’t tell up from down. Shame he doesn’t have a drink. ]
Do you, uh. Want help with it? Dunno if you know what to do with it.
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[ he would protest that he does know how to masturbate, thanks, but before he gets his mouth open to stick his foot into it, it occurs to him he has to concede his technique may leave a little to be desired. perhaps it's that rarely spotted self-preservation instinct, or his dedication to taking things too literally.
either way, he realizes dean is offering.
his chin jerks, though he doesn't quite manage to look back over his shoulder. ]
I could. Use the pointers?
[ a pointer? a— some help. is what he's saying. ]
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[ It would be insanely stupid for Cas to turn down Dean’s offer. It’s not like he does this regularly, slip into the shower with other men, press close, slide hands over wings, carefully pull broken feathers, ask if they need pointers on how to handle a bone they’re not used to dealing with. ]
Take it in your hand.
[ Moving close is hard, pressing between spread wings and the joint of them against Cas’ back, a hand dropping to grip his hip, fingers pressing into skin. ]
Don’t jerk, stroke. Nice and slow. It’s all in the movement, right? Skin on skin. It’s nice.
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[ yeah, sure. he can do all that. as soon as he stops internally combusting.
dean crowds in close, hot at his back, and he moves almost as though by rote, like a machine. his hand drops to his hard cock and his fingers grip around it, a breath rushing in through his nose to hitch in the back of his throat at the sudden deluge of pure sensation. he had known he was aroused, obviously, but he'd never actually considered taking care of it.
he hadn't prepared himself for how good it'd feel.
but he has a little bit of trouble following dean's directions in his nervous haste— squeezing too tight, moving his hand too stiffly. it doesn't feel bad, but it isn't what dean told him to do. ]
Um... Is tha..that...
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But the water stays hot, and Dean finds a way to rest his chin on Cas’ shoulder, his hand sliding from hip to thigh to inner thigh, a huffed chuckle in his throat. ]
Slower. Don’t squeeze so tight. You’re not trying to stop a water hose.
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but he does as dean instructs, loosening his grip. it feels better, feels so good, in fact, that it pulls a moan out of him. ]
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it got smaller and smaller
cas' dick
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