Work Text:
MOTH POV
“You said,” Moth sighed, breathless already.
“You said..” Moth tried again but was interrupted by his own soft moan as he felt Dean’s mouth move slowly, gently down the slope of his neck, his hands deftly unbuttoning Moth’s shirt as he went. The sensations running through Moth right now would’ve had a weaker man already putty in Dean’s hands, and even still he was halfway there.
Finally inhaling deeply, Moth got his head clear enough to utter “You said you were here to let me draw you.”
Even without looking at his face, Moth could feel Dean’s mouth forming a smile against his neck, sending even more zips of electricity down to his toes.
“If you were so determined to work on that drawing…” Dean began, pulling back slightly to look Moth in the eyes. Moth, embarrassingly, just barely holds back a whine at the motion “Then why is your hand in my hair?”
Dean’s eyes had that infuriating twinkle in them that spoke of the quiet confidence he always carried with him. The one that said he knew the effect he was having on someone but wasn’t going to say it out loud… yet. His pupils were darker than ever and there was a slight softness there, despite the heat, in his gaze that Moth did not have the capacity to dissect at the moment.
Moth’s brain came back online long enough to register Dean’s teasing words.
When had that gotten there?
Moth realized Dean was right. At some point in the last however many minutes since they had sat down, Moth’s hand had subconsciously moved to Dean’s hair and had been pulling him closer to his neck. Moth felt a blush rise to his cheeks and spread to his, already burning, ears at being caught.
Not willing to admit to his obvious weakness, and not about to show defeat, Moth removed his hand from Dean’s soft hair. Moth couldn’t help himself when he pulled slightly on that hair as he slid his hand away, feeling triumphant when Dean closed his eyes at the sensation and bit lightly at his own lip.
Good, at least he wasn’t losing his touch.
Pushing lightly at Dean’s chest, Moth slid back slightly. He took a few more breaths to resettle himself and then looked Dean in the eye again.
“You promised you would behave,” Even before Moth finished his sentence he saw a smirk start to crawl across Dean’s face, so he spoke faster to get to the end of his sentence without being drawn back in again “and I do really need to get this piece done. It’s important to me.”
Dean pouted slightly, which made Moth’ clench his fist to avoid reaching out to the other, before sighing dramatically.
“Fineee…” Dean finally fully leant out of Moth’s space. Once he was settled, Dean sent Moth another teasing look.
“How do you want me?”
Dean throws in a quick wink that should not make Moth’s heart race the way that it does, but Moth can also hear the sincerity in the question. Moth feels a small smile pull at the edges of his lips and reaches for the sketch pad and other various art supplies that had been abandoned next to him after Dean’s initial surge towards him.
“Just…” Moth squints slightly, finally getting back into his artistic mindset. “ Lean back, rest naturally.” Dean does so without any fuss, which should not make Moth’s pulse race faster.. and yet.
Once Dean is settled back against the red bean bag behind him, Moth moves forward without thinking, running his hand through Dean’s hair to settle it slightly. He almost misses the way Dean’s breath hitches below him as his hand moves through his hair. He’s working on auto pilot when he brings his hands to the buttons on Dean’s shirt, unbuttoning the top three easily. He only slows down once his fingers brush heated skin and he notices the chest underneath his hand rising and falling. His eyes snap up to Dean’s, seeing heat in the other’s gaze but also silent laughter.
“Can I help you there?” Dean’s voice is as smooth as always but has deepened even further from when he spoke only moments ago. His familiar half smirk-half smile has also made a reappearance. Dean’s eyes snap down to Moth’s hand, which makes Moth realize his hand is still resting lightly against Dean’s solid chest. He snatches his hand back and half rolls his eyes to regain some dignity back from the last few minutes. From the look in Dean’s eyes, Moth is not as successful at this as he wanted to be. Ignoring Dean’s question, Moth settles back in his seat, picking up his sketchbook again.
“There, all set now.” He hopes his voice doesn’t come out as unsteady as he feels. The expression on Dean’s face tells Moth that he’s not super successful in that task.
Moth looks back down at all the art supplies next to him, markers, pastels, pencils, and his mind starts racing for a different reason. He would never admit it out loud to him for fear it would make his ego far bigger than it is now, if that were even possible, but Moth had wanted to make a portrait of Dean since he first laid eyes on him. He reaches over for a simple pencil to begin and feels a calm wash over him that only ever happens when he’s making art. There’s something about the whole process that settles something in Moth every time. He always feels the most himself when he speaks through his art. It also allows him to escape his, sometimes loud, mind. He takes a few more breaths and allows his shoulders to lose some tension.
Once he has the pencil in his hand, Moth looks back up at Dean. His breath hitches slightly when his eyes land back on him. Dean isn’t even doing anything to inspire the reaction, he’s just resting against the seat behind him, eyes following Moth as he begins to sketch. And yet, he’s still so good looking it’s sometimes hard to look at him.
A few minutes of silence pass as Moth begins his initial simple sketch. Dean’s voice breaks Moth out of his concentration
“So…” Despite the interruption, Dean’s voice is still soft. Moth lifts the pencil off the page, glancing up at him, raising his eyebrow at the minor disturbance. “I’ve never been sketched before.” Dean definitely sounds smug at this, the smirk fully back on his lips, which inspires Moth to roll his eyes gently.
“Don’t sound so smug, I sketch everyone.” There’s no way Moth is letting Dean know that out of everyone he’s ever made art of, Dean was definitely the one that brought the most inspiration.
Dean hums as if he doesn’t quite believe Moth’s words. Moth briefly cannot accept how far he’s fallen from the original guarded, cold individual Dean had first met. He hopes it’s not as obvious to Dean, he’s not sure his pride could take the fact that somehow Dean was the one to start breaking down his walls. Dean who smiles and gives away his instagram like it’s candy, who could have anyone he wanted at the snap of his fingers and is aware of it, who has probably inspired art in others as well, not just in quiet, reserved, too-cold-for-his-own-good Moth.
Moth shakes his head to clear it again. He cannot be distracted right now, which is tough with the walking temptation sitting across from him.
“Just… sit there and look pretty.” Dean’s eyes light up at Moth’s words, so Moth barrels on. “I don’t trust that mouth of yours to behave.”
Despite trying to distract Dean, Moth fails at the task because the next thing Dean says is,
“You think I’m pretty?” There is far too much delight on Dean’s face for Moth’s taste. As if Dean doesn’t already know what he looks like, nor it’s affect on other people.
“Shut up. You know what you look like.” Moth mumbles before looking back down at his sketchpad, purposefully avoiding Dean’s eyes.
He’s not sure if it’s because he decides to behave or if he’s just waiting for another time to strike, but Dean finally quiets for enough time that Moth can get a good portion of his initial sketch done.
The only problem with the arrangement is that each time Moth allows his eyes to scan over Dean’s body and face, Moth feels the tension in the room rise a little more. Despite trying to avoid it, Moth knows the initial chemistry never fully left the air. It has really only been laying dormant waiting for another time to burst through. From the look in Dean’s eyes whenever Moth allows himself to look into them, Dean feels the same thing in the air.
Trying to avoid the inevitable for a bit longer, Moth looks down at his sketch. It’s good. Really good. Like all of Moth’s art is, even in initial stages. But Moth can’t lie, it doesn't come close to capturing Dean’s actual beauty. Because Dean is indeed beautiful. Infuriatingly, undeniably, beautiful. Moth’s not sure he’d ever be able to fully capture it actually, even if he does want to do his darndest to try.
His eyes flick back up to Dean and he can’t help the full body scan he does of the other man. It’s slow and obvious and he knows what he must look like. Dean’s even told him before,
“Your eyes set me on fire more than anything else, Moth.”
He internally curses the way that Dean has always been able to read his attraction from his eyes alone. Even since day one. Oftentimes he doesn’t even realize it until Dean slips next to him, hand sliding to the small of his back, and whispers, voice smooth and slightly strained like he’s barely holding himself back, “Your eyes, they’re doing that thing again.”
Most times, Moth will just push Dean away from him when this happens, ignoring the heat running through his body, and roll his eyes to hide the tremble of his fingers and stutter of his breath.
This time, Dean doesn’t even have to say anything. Just from Moth looking into Dean’s eyes, he knows exactly what the other is thinking. Moth even sees Dean clench his fist at his side, clearly holding himself back from reaching out and pulling Moth towards him. It’s this more than anything else that breaks Moth. Something about Dean being so full of desire, but still denying himself just to please Moth pulls at Moth’s core.
“Fuck it.” Moth tosses his sketchpad and pencil to the side and climbs into Dean’s lap before Dean has even registered the words that leave Moth’s mouth. With more intensity than Moth thought he could even hold in his body, Moth grabs Dean by the face and brings their lips together.
The sensation that slides through Moth’s body when their mouths collide is unlike anything he’s experienced before, even in the times they’ve hooked up before this. He can sense it move through him from the top of his head through the tips of his toes in waves. Moth feels Dean groan against his mouth, which in turn makes Moth let out a noise of his own. Moth’s hands settle right back in Dean’s hair like they never left and Dean’s hands settle on Moth’s waist like it’s his to own. Moth tilts his head, deepening the kiss, feeling how Dean’s body responds to him. He feels drunk and has no intention of pulling away any time soon. Dean’s hands, which had been stable against Moth’s waist, start to wander lower, brushing his thighs before moving lower and squeezing. A moan escapes Moth’s mouth despite his brief attempts to stop it. He feels Dean smile against his mouth and nips at his lower lip in retaliation. The rumble that moves through Dean’s chest at the action, Moth feels through his whole body.
With more inner strength than Moth knew he even possessed, Dean pulls back slightly from Moth’s mouth.
“I thought you brought me here to work on your portrait.” Dean’s lips continue to brush lightly against Moth’s as the words leave his lips, continuing to send heat coursing through Moth’s body. The fact that the words even break through Moth’s desire-filled brain is honestly a miracle. Once they do, Moth doesn’t hide the way he rolls his eyes and says,
“Shut up.” He brings his lips to Dean’s jaw and begins to kiss and nip down the side to his neck, where Moth’s kisses become longer and more fluid. Moth feels Dean’s breath stutter and it’s his turn to smile against Dean’s neck.
“You…” Moth hears Dean’s breath hitch and how he swallows a moan when he brings his mouth up to Dean’s earring and pulls on it lightly with his teeth. Dean takes a deep breath in that Moth can feel in his soul.
“You told me this was important to you.”
The sincerity in Dean’s words, underneath the heat of course, makes Moth pause in his journey to turn Dean into putty. Once the words register, another wave of pleasure, even stronger than before, flows through Moth. Something about Dean, despite his clear interest in what they’re doing, still trying to honor Moth mentioning this being important to him is more of an aphrodisiac than just about anything else Dean could do. At the same time, Moth could not care less about his portrait anymore, what with the way Dean is looking at him and how he feels against him.
Moth pulls back a little more from the man underneath him, enough to look him in the eye, and feels Dean’s hands clench around his waist. He watches as teeth sink into Dean’s lower lip yet again. The look in Dean’s eyes is conflicted despite his words. He clearly doesn’t want Moth to move but is trying to honor Moth’s earlier words. Moth feels his mouth pull into a smirk and one of his eyebrows rise.
Oh this is fun.
“Baby…” The word leaves Moth’s mouth before he can stop it. Moth hadn’t meant to pull out the big guns yet, but Dean’s entire being was pulling at a place inside of Moth that no one had ever accessed before. The tone is unlike anything he’s ever used before, soft and needy. To hammer the word home, Moth even rests his hand on Dean’s bare chest and slides it down slowly. The affect on the other is immediate. Moth watches as his eyes somehow darken even more, Dean’s entire body going slack except for his hands which stay clenched at Moth’s waist. His mouth drops open, and a blush rises to his cheeks that Moth hadn’t seen before.
“Are you sure you wanna talk about my portrait right now?” Moth leans back into Dean, brushing their lips together but not allowing them to connect yet. The power Moth currently has over Dean is making him feel a little light-headed. “While I’m here…?” Moth brushes his lips to Dean’s left cheek, leaving a soft kiss there, feeling Dean’s hands attempting to pull him even closer than he already is. “In your lap…?” Moth moves to the other side of Dean’s face, kissing his other cheek just as gently as the first one. “Ready for you?” Moth finishes his rhetorical question by pressing a soft kiss against the other’s lips, light and teasing but still charged, pulling away before Dean could even try reciprocating.
The look in Dean’s eye when Moth flicks his gaze up to them is unlike anything he’s seen on the other before. Heat, passion, intensity, and something else Moth can’t quite name swirl in the dark pupils. Before Moth can move further back again, a growl escapes Dean’s lips. His hand reaches out and pulls Moth’s mouth back to his by the back of his neck, connecting their lips in a kiss that is only heat and sensation. They let out simultaneous noises of pleasure at the feeling of their mouths coming back together. Dean barely moves back enough to let a final sentence out between them,
“No, no I think there’s definitely something else I’d rather do right now.”
FIN