[ Blake's a little surprised himself, although for entirely different reasons. In passing Dean, he foists off the bottle with a press of it against the hunter's chest before eyeing the entranceway as a whole. ]
You spendin' Christmas alone?
[ A veiled question that translates to whether or not there's anyone else around to disturb with their obvious shenanigans. ]
[ A hint of acknowledgement — message received — while Blake is shrugging out of his coat. Christmas time is the same for him, not that he's saying as much. It's probably pretty obvious, though.
Coat hanging from an arm, he eyes Dean with a raised eyebrow, reaching out to slide the festive candy cane from it's ribbon binding. He twirls it like an umbrella in his fingers. ]
Did you want your present now, or...?
[ The alcohol seems to suggest some kibitzing but Blake doesn't want to assume anything. One thing's for sure, though: He'll be indulging his oral fixation one way or another soon enough. ]
I've got time but if you're plannin' to keep me 'til New Years I'm gonna need a bit more'n whiskey and candy canes.
[ Turning, he lets himself wander a bit. Taking in the sights, so to speak. He's not really interested in an extensive tour to anywhere but his knees after the conversation they've had, but he's fine working at Dean's pace. Hell, maybe the guy needs the whiskey now that he's answered the door. ]
[ Stilled by the connection, Blake glances over at Dean and offers a thin smirk. ]
Why? What's that way? Like drugs? Poppers?
[ Not that he cares except that he's been told no. Reaching for the bottle, he wraps his fingers around base, eyebrow raised as he gives a little tug. Christmas is the time for sharing. ]
[ there's probably bodies in their sex dungeon, who knows. He does
relinquish the bottle though, because yes - sharing is caring. Without it
in hi shands he can steer Blake away from boring demon traps towards the
hall that houses the bedrooms. ]
[ Probably better to keep him from snooping, anyway. He's got a bit of a hard nose for certain things, although he doesn't turn it up over their obvious tryst.
Tipping back the bottle, he lets his feet do the walking as Dean urges them along through unknown territory. His face twists at the heat — not really his preferred alcohol, but he'll deal — and he passes the bottle back helpfully. ]
Not the brand of debauchery we're lookin' for, then.
[ He seems pretty certain of that, anyway. Maybe he's ignorant of the possibilities, but he also doesn't think Dean's trying to convince him. ]
[ The sentiment is echoed and lacks no cheek, although as Blake takes another swig after the shove, he finds the sound of the lock clicking into place curious.
He offers out the bottle, turning to fix Dean with a look, tasting the whiskey on his lips more purposefully. ]
You keepin' someone out or keepin' me in?
[ Blake glances away, amused and uncaring either way, and tosses aside his jacket because he knows he won't need it. ]
[ Straight to business, eh? No kibitzing to be done. The quirk of Blake's smile says a lot — he's pleasantly surprised — and as he tick-tocks his head back and forth, he closes the majority of the distance between them in a slow approach. ]
Safe word sounds a little impractical if my mouth's too full to use it. But I think I can hold my own. Unless you're adamant.
[ His gaze levels on Dean's, dark eyes turned near black in his desire, pupils wide with the promise laid before him. He's no stranger to negotiating and there isn't a beat missed as he reaches for the other man's belt.
He leans in, spaced invaded, his mouth tilted towards Dean's ear. It's a slow, deep tone used as he asks, ]
[ Like the lock on the door, Blake notes that Dean provides no direction for stop, which also seems to defeat the purpose. But he registers the "rules" as well as Dean's eagerness, pulling back with a wolfish grin to take in the other man's expression. ]
Naw, we can start sweet.
[ His hand slides outward to Dean's hip, grips around him and squeezes while the other pushes the bottle out of the way. Tipping his head, his lips brush against Dean's jaw, working back towards Dean's ear. ]
[ The affirmative noise Blake makes doesn't stop the crawl of his lips as he plies more affection along Dean's neck. He gives a nip — teeth over lips — and rescues the bottle. When he pulls back, he takes a swig, hips jutting out to meet Dean's.
Whiskey still stinging his lips, he stops just short of a kiss. ]
[ Mouth capturing Dean's, he draws out a kiss that could be a bit more firm but remains achingly light. He's got things to do with his mouth and opts to save the abuse for the oncoming cock instead.
He's only got the one free hand — he's not dropping that whiskey bottle anywhere but a safe space currently out of reach — but he uses one hand he's got purposefully, reaching between them to palm along the other man's stiff dick. ]
[ Eyebrow cocking at Dean's purposefulness, Blake decides it's as good enough as a go and gives a squeeze. His breath shudders as he explores more deftly, seeking signs of girth, length, heft. ]
Gonna stretch my lips to their limit, huh? Promise you won't hear me complain.
[ Haha, get it? Because his mouth'll be full. Still, it's said tantalizingly against Dean's jaw before Blake descends more purposefully to argue the other man out of his pants far enough for their intent. ]
[ He'll take the direction, descending one knee at a time, but the cock of his eyebrow as he looks up at Dean suggests a blip of something else to be observed: Blake, despite his obvious interest, doesn't seem to appreciate something about the insinuation.
Undeterred, he squeezes his hand around the end of Dean's inch-above-average, thumb swiping over the top and along the frenulum.
He licks his lips, leans in, opens his mouth and stops just short, breath purposefully ghosting along the head. ]
I'll get my bearings and then you can have your little fantasy.
[ Which is what Blake intends to do by leaving a long, wet lick along the underside, hand manipulating as necessary. Best practices says he ought to at least get a few licks in before he's forced to breathe around Dean's dick for who knows how long. ]
S-sorry, [ a little breathless. the look doesn't go unnoticed. ] Into it.
[ Nothing like the anticipation of a really good blow job to get a guy ramped up and saying stupid shit. ]
Whatever you want, man. Just tell me if you wanna stop. Signal. Whatever.
[ He's twitchy, can't help it; a cool breath of air sliding over damn skin, the touch of fingers over soft skin, a wet tongue over his cock. If he weren't a practiced man, that would be the end of it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
for @oversight
Well, color him surprised. His brows pin high and he laughs, moving to open the door a little wider. ]
Welcome to the bunker, man.
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You spendin' Christmas alone?
[ A veiled question that translates to whether or not there's anyone else around to disturb with their obvious shenanigans. ]
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Yeah. Not unusual, really. [ Sam's off on a hunt and Cas is probably causing some new world ending disaster out of sight. ]
Don't judge my late typo edits!!!
[ A hint of acknowledgement — message received — while Blake is shrugging out of his coat. Christmas time is the same for him, not that he's saying as much. It's probably pretty obvious, though.
Coat hanging from an arm, he eyes Dean with a raised eyebrow, reaching out to slide the festive candy cane from it's ribbon binding. He twirls it like an umbrella in his fingers. ]
Did you want your present now, or...?
[ The alcohol seems to suggest some kibitzing but Blake doesn't want to assume anything. One thing's for sure, though: He'll be indulging his oral fixation one way or another soon enough. ]
I SHANT
How long can you wait?
🥰
I've got time but if you're plannin' to keep me 'til New Years I'm gonna need a bit more'n whiskey and candy canes.
[ Turning, he lets himself wander a bit. Taking in the sights, so to speak. He's not really interested in an extensive tour to anywhere but his knees after the conversation they've had, but he's fine working at Dean's pace. Hell, maybe the guy needs the whiskey now that he's answered the door. ]
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[ Dean flashes a grin, wandering up behind him and clapping a firm hand down on his shoulder. ]
But not that way.
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Why? What's that way? Like drugs? Poppers?
[ Not that he cares except that he's been told no. Reaching for the bottle, he wraps his fingers around base, eyebrow raised as he gives a little tug. Christmas is the time for sharing. ]
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Probably something demon related.
[ there's probably bodies in their sex dungeon, who knows. He does relinquish the bottle though, because yes - sharing is caring. Without it in hi shands he can steer Blake away from boring demon traps towards the hall that houses the bedrooms. ]
no subject
Tipping back the bottle, he lets his feet do the walking as Dean urges them along through unknown territory. His face twists at the heat — not really his preferred alcohol, but he'll deal — and he passes the bottle back helpfully. ]
Not the brand of debauchery we're lookin' for, then.
[ He seems pretty certain of that, anyway. Maybe he's ignorant of the possibilities, but he also doesn't think Dean's trying to convince him. ]
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[ Nosiness gets you dead in the bunker, irritatingly enough.
Or sucked into Oz. ]
Not really, no.
[ Dean's door is cracked, not completely shut, and he kicks it open with his foot before pushing Blake in, closing and locking it behind him. ]
Unless that's something that really turns you on.
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[ The sentiment is echoed and lacks no cheek, although as Blake takes another swig after the shove, he finds the sound of the lock clicking into place curious.
He offers out the bottle, turning to fix Dean with a look, tasting the whiskey on his lips more purposefully. ]
You keepin' someone out or keepin' me in?
[ Blake glances away, amused and uncaring either way, and tosses aside his jacket because he knows he won't need it. ]
no subject
[ Nope, Blake isn't gonna need his jacket while Dean fucks the shit out of his face, that's for sure.
He takes the bottle back and takes a long swig, enjoying something that isn't garbage bottom shelf liquor. It's a nice change. ]
How you wanna do this? Got some kinda safeword so I don't choke you to death?
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Safe word sounds a little impractical if my mouth's too full to use it. But I think I can hold my own. Unless you're adamant.
[ His gaze levels on Dean's, dark eyes turned near black in his desire, pupils wide with the promise laid before him. He's no stranger to negotiating and there isn't a beat missed as he reaches for the other man's belt.
He leans in, spaced invaded, his mouth tilted towards Dean's ear. It's a slow, deep tone used as he asks, ]
You need a little romancin', or...?
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[ Easy enough, he thinks, and he moves in when Blake reaches for his belt. HE's already hard, a little hungry, eyes as dark as the other mans. ]
I always like a lil romancin'. Nothing wrong with some hi=ugging and kissing. Unless you're weirdly averse to that.
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Naw, we can start sweet.
[ His hand slides outward to Dean's hip, grips around him and squeezes while the other pushes the bottle out of the way. Tipping his head, his lips brush against Dean's jaw, working back towards Dean's ear. ]
I've got all the patience in the world.
[ A total, utter lie. ]
wow those drunk typos
Do you? Didn't get that vibe from you.
[ But maybe dragging it out is fun, because those lips give him a shiver, hands dropping to slip up under his shirt. ]
I knew what you meant~
[ The affirmative noise Blake makes doesn't stop the crawl of his lips as he plies more affection along Dean's neck. He gives a nip — teeth over lips — and rescues the bottle. When he pulls back, he takes a swig, hips jutting out to meet Dean's.
Whiskey still stinging his lips, he stops just short of a kiss. ]
You seem pretty eager.
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[ Like, really into it. How could he not be? Most sane, semi-straight men would be. Probably, anyway.
His nails drag over skin, light but still firm, hips pressed close, hard in briefs - no missing that. ]
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[ Mouth capturing Dean's, he draws out a kiss that could be a bit more firm but remains achingly light. He's got things to do with his mouth and opts to save the abuse for the oncoming cock instead.
He's only got the one free hand — he's not dropping that whiskey bottle anywhere but a safe space currently out of reach — but he uses one hand he's got purposefully, reaching between them to palm along the other man's stiff dick. ]
Okay, might be a bit impatient...
no subject
[ He keeps chasing them, the kisses too light, but when Blake palms his dick he loses all of his sense, a little groan, pressing into his hand. ]
Y-you think? [ He's getting impatient too, and he's going to grab that bottle and take a swig before he sets it down and pushes it out of reach. ]
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Gonna stretch my lips to their limit, huh? Promise you won't hear me complain.
[ Haha, get it? Because his mouth'll be full. Still, it's said tantalizingly against Dean's jaw before Blake descends more purposefully to argue the other man out of his pants far enough for their intent. ]
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Damn right I will. Get on your knees where you belong.
[ He rocks into Blake's grip, hard and waiting, his hands tight as he rests them now on Blake's shoulders, firmly guiding him down. ]
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Undeterred, he squeezes his hand around the end of Dean's inch-above-average, thumb swiping over the top and along the frenulum.
He licks his lips, leans in, opens his mouth and stops just short, breath purposefully ghosting along the head. ]
I'll get my bearings and then you can have your little fantasy.
[ Which is what Blake intends to do by leaving a long, wet lick along the underside, hand manipulating as necessary. Best practices says he ought to at least get a few licks in before he's forced to breathe around Dean's dick for who knows how long. ]
no subject
[ Nothing like the anticipation of a really good blow job to get a guy ramped up and saying stupid shit. ]
Whatever you want, man. Just tell me if you wanna stop. Signal. Whatever.
[ He's twitchy, can't help it; a cool breath of air sliding over damn skin, the touch of fingers over soft skin, a wet tongue over his cock. If he weren't a practiced man, that would be the end of it. ]
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