Ficlets & Codas - Stories that need to be told
Sometimes an episode demands a response, a fix, an addition. Sometimes big, and sometimes small. This is an ongoing collection of ficlets and codas.
(Open, Unmoderated)
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Summary
一個關於江𤒹生整朱古力嘅故事。
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“That’s the man who is going to teach you how to love, Castiel.”
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Besides last night, he can’t even remember the last time he got laid. Well, quite literally not remember as he strongly suspects he may have had a tryst with that waitress sometime after he rode Larry but before he woke up with Peter Cottontail.
Not that any time he’d had sex before prepared him for the undoing he’d experienced in Castiel’s hands.
Hands that now trailed along his back, caressing carefully. Waiting for a signal.
“Ask me.”
Dean’s words were huffed against wild hair.
“Are you - is this?” Castiel spoke against his breastbone, the vibrations of his voice tickling. “Can I?”
“Yeah, Cas. Please.”
Dean Winchester does not beg. Not unless it’s something he wants more than his own life. And he’s reasonably certain the way Castiel moves quickly and grips him tight, his hand searing into sensitive flesh - right about now, he’d pay that price.
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He keeps walking towards Dean, so slowly you might mistake him for a predator seeking his prey. Except there's nothing malicious in his body language - his arms outstretched slightly, like you might approach an unfamiliar animal. He's expecting a fight, Dean realizes. And in truth, the moments that have been this tender in the past, where they're both laid out bare for the other to see, haven’t exactly been absent of bloodshed.
But Dean doesn't feel like fighting. The angel's words deflate him, the anger dissipating with the mist.
"It's not fair," the words choke out softly, almost disappearing. He can hardly meet the blue eyes now a foot away. "That you get to say it."
Cas pauses, a wet hand raising to place on Dean's cooling shoulder. "Do you want me to stop?"
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When Cas finally spoke, it was quiet. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Dean. I promise.”
Dean had never liked protective declarations, though he himself made them on a near constant basis. It’s because they meant someone valued their lives over Dean's, and the guilt that came with that knowledge was cumbersome. As far as he was concerned, it was easier to be a martyr.
But when Cas made yet another promise to protect Dean, something shifted inside his gut. A knowledge that hadn’t fully solidified, hadn’t fully gelled within his insides. And he stood quite suddenly in spite of himself, nearly knocking the chair over in his enthusiasm. Castiel jerked away from him on reflex but softened again when he saw the expression in Dean’s eyes.
A hand, callused and cut across the palm where he’d bled to try to save them both reached across the chasm between their bodies. It cupped the side of Castiel’s cheek, roughly scraping against stubble.