forgiven.

last time. dean can't help his mind straying back to the images that haunt his brain the best corridors where he willingly peers into now and then. or not so much. sometimes the feel of oliver wrapped around him, of the way he felt riding him, taking every inch while the sounds he made above where dean was sat? creep into his skull and cause him to shudder, or blush or both in the weirdest places. like ordering coffee one morning and catching glance at his belt while peering down at his shoes and remembering the way oliver's fingers looked working it free. all she wrote. suddenly, he's got his spine doing crazy shit in the middle of a cafe.

skip forward to this? and that night comes running back as their hips meet and he feels him through his pants. the depth he explores oliver's mouth leaves no doubt that he remembered the flavor of him perfectly. night after night. where only the imaginary flavor would be enough to send his hand into his pants where he'd jerk off at the ghost drifting his mouth, his memory.

right now--he has him here. real and solid. above him kissing him just as hard as dean begs him to with every stroke of his tongue, every moan fed between them. i want you, he begs without the need for words. just a starved mouth devouring all he can reach. air rushes into his lungs with a deep inhale soon as their mouths part. only enough that oliver can murmur a want that makes a pitched noise escape dean's strained throat.

the hunter's nodding and can barely get out a, "yes," before oliver takes his mouth again. deeper as he grinds down and dean ruts up. one set of digits curls into dark hair, ball it into a loose fist. trembling fingers of his opposite hand drift between them, curl around oliver's wrist and guide it to the button of his jeans undoing it together with deft movements that are given over to oliver's control once they're pressed to the zipper. he wants out. needs out. needs bare skin against bare skin. "m'so hard. touch me. i need--touch me--fuck. need it so bad," he begs breaking free from the kiss only long enough to get the choked words out before diving back in.

Oliver gets cloned somehow, and conspires with the original Oliver to hook up with @bloodsalted together at the same time. Dean is overwhelmed by all the hands bringing him pleasure.

Witches.

So hard to recognize them, to tell them apart from other regular people. You think you're helping someone—like a woman who collapsed at the hospital entrance—only for them to slip a hex bag into your coat. The younger Winchester had found and burned it before it could truly harm me, but by then it had already done half of its intended purpose: to make a fully functional copy of me.

I must've missed it (well, him) on my hurried way back to the hospital, because later that evening I found him sitting on my couch, drinking my coffee and waiting for me.

The next hour was spent exhaustively confirming that we're identical. Same memories, same scars. Same prosopagnosia, which only made it harder to interact with him and more disorienting. I could write a whole paper on the feeling if only I could explain how I got here.

Sam estimates the duplicate (which I've resorted to calling Oliver 2) will last a week before it decays back into nothing, and we agreed, fairly quickly, that we'd make the most of it.

It was Oliver 2 who suggested getting Dean in private, somewhere between the second and third glasses of whiskey. I laughed, amused by how obvious the idea was. There could never be a version of me, in any universe, who would get a duplicate of themselves and not think about what they could do to Dean Winchester.

dean didn't have the faintest idea of what he was about to walk in on the minute oliver opened the door after the hunter answered his call. anticipation of seeing him already swelled in his gut the entire drive there. took him about forty minutes from the town over he finished a hunt the night previous to make the drive. didn't stop or let down on the gas the entire way. white and yellow lines were blurring by as his mind wandered off to the last time they'd seen one another..

..what happened. that a hex bag ended up doubling the person who had become someone dean's let in. more than he has anyone in a very long time. honestly, if you think about it? ever. considering what they've done..

how since he they have crossed that line? there's not been a single night where his mind hasn't gone back to the sound of oliver's sigh in his ear. the feeling of hands upon his back. the taste of his tongue. skin. other things. all of it remaiend as fresh in his mind's eye as the night it happened. lurked in his dreams. the ones he had when he was asleep. fantasies he'd drum up laying in bed alone. or in the shower. always losing himself to imagining him. dreaming up new things. an endless rotation of scenes so vivid, they left him hard and wanting each time.

flush faced when the doctor greeted him at the threshold with a warm embrace that guided him in--dean had his boots toed off within seconds and that's when he saw oliver part two standing there. waiting. and the double take he gave oliver was fast enough to almost give him whiplash. their previous meeting of oliver two? between sam, him and the olivers? took a whole lot of explaining for him to not want to take oliver two as anything more than something to put down. a threat. one that oliver might've earned because of his association with him. one that would've been his fault if anything had happened before sam and him got there.

..until he learned every detail. and once that storm passed? honestly, it didn't cross his mind that they would BOTH want him here. though oliver and oliver part two reassured him repeatedly that they did and as the whiskey began to pour--the more dean listened. and the more he listened? curiouser and curiouser... until that string gave and the what would it be like thought in his head? became.. something he wanted to not only know but.. feel.

what happened next? a blur. after reassurance that this was on his terms, he heard himself laughing--felt the very real press of their bodies that he drew closer. tasted oliver part two on his mouth because he was the closest to kiss and dean needed to see if it would be the same. fucking insane that there was no difference. their flavor? complete match. just like the rest of them. and the notion pushed a whine that parted his mouth before he turned to taste oliver's. there were hands upon him. everywhere. lips and breaths and he felt fingertips on his abdomen and up his chest as another set palmed at his already stiffening crotch. barely saw a damn thing on his way to the bedroom. clothes over his head. his pants on the floor. boxer briefs? hallway somewhere.

watching the two of them undress was enough to make his mouth water, throat in overtime to swallow. oliver part two is kneeling beside him and oliver's between is legs kneeling. look at him. dean can still taste the kiss he was pulled from as his chin is taken. an action that sends as much of a shockwave up his spine as he's guided to watch as being gripped tight had. green eyes devoured by pupils go round and he jerks again when oliver starts to suck him into his mouth. strong thighs part wider. taunt skin over the insides as he spreads himself open. an offering. and for a moment, he nearly turns into oliver part two's neck but that grip on his chin ensures he does as he's told and watches.. panting, biting into his bottom lip as he sees himself gliding into a throat that's greedily taking him.

His name, whined like that? Higher than he's ever heard Dean's go? Christ, if Benny had been getting any kind of relief downstairs, that might have done him in. Spilled him right over the edge. He moaned around Dean's cock and worked him like he needed the man to cum yesterday. His need had coated the inside of the vampire's mouth, and it felt like it wouldn't stop. Dean was so far gone, Benny was pretty sure his reddened shaft would leak like a faucet if he pulled off now.

Benny heard that urgent warning, so very close to fear, and he looked up in time to see those green eyes pleading with him to stay. Dean was a debauched mess. Cheeks flushed, neck and chest flushed with them, hair disheveled, lips still red and swollen. That wordless plea made Benny suck faster and harder, and he felt Dean's body lock. The shaft in his mouth throbbed in time with the hunter's whimpers, and Benny kept his hips pinned to the ground as he sucked and swallowed him down. Dean was helpless to do anything but cum in his mouth, and the thought drove Benny insane. If they got out of this? If they made it out of Purgatory alive? It would be a long damn time before the vampire could get off to anything but what transpired that day. The fact that he'd pinned Dean Winchester down and worked him til he begged, and he begged so pretty.

The inside of Benny's boxers were damp from his own leaking cock by the time he was sure Dean had been wrung dry. He pulled off and made a show of licking his lips with that devil-may-care smile Dean had come to know in their time together. "Good boy." While the hunter was still coming down from that high, Benny pulled himself over his frame again, taking care to grind his concealed erection against Dean as he went. "In a second, baby," he murmured, husky and low, before he tugged Dean into a kiss. Deep, and unhurried. He said taste, he didn't specify where, and Benny took advantage by slipping his tongue into that eager mouth. God could he get used to that. Tasting the inside of Dean's mouth, and feeling those full lips against his. Soon his cock would slide past those lips, and the thought alone made it twitch against Dean.

begging as he came in wave after wave that benny pinned him to the ground and sucked him through--the hunter finished with another cry that should've sent off their location to any predator within earshot and yet? all of them remained away. could've been the water. could've been the fact that had anything stumbled upon them now? the two of them in the position they were in? and a blur of either benny or dean coming at them would've been the last thing they saw before purgator swallowed them whole. hands shook in their grip of cropped dark hair. they continue to as benny pulls off of him giving words of praise as dean watches, wide eyed at the vampire licking his taste off his mouth

the sight alone makes dean's gut tight, floods his thighs and caves in the back of his mouth with a need he could never put a name on. but he has to taste him. has to have him inside his mouth and he wants it now. covering his frame with his weight--benny kisses him and dean is starving by the time he kisses him back. slow and lazy--dean can taste himself on the vampire's tongue. the flavor is salty and warm and makes him shudder. his entire spine goes into a squirm along with him.

gasping for the stale air of the world they live in once their mouths are apart, dean stares up at him and nods sharply. his turn. the vampire's on his back, knees parted and dean takes a moment to take in the look of him. strained and thick against his boxers. disheveled simply by sucking him off? and wanting him so bad he's that hard? the hunter feels his face heat up and that craving digs in deeper. has him moving on its own accord to crawl between benny's knees and settle there. dean's arms hook around swung open thighs and with an arch in his spine that keeps his lower half curved upwards--he dips his head down and presses his mouth to the trail of hair running from benny's belly button down to the elastic hem. traces the entirety of it with his tongue and only pauses once it touches cotton.

nerves swell up as he moves his right arm around and braces himself against the ground with his left. dean has to squirm as he directs benny to lift that leg along with the pull. doesn't take long before they both manage to free benny's leg from one side. the hunter leaves the other as is because now that benny's sprung free--hard and curved towards his belly? dean, finally, acknowledges the instructions and swallows past the lump of jitters in his throat.

green eyes dart up to watch benny's expression as he takes his shaft into his fist stroking him to relearn the width, the texture. it's easy to coat him with himself once dean's thumb gathers up a tendril of pre-cum and spreads it over the head. his breath trembles. hot and jagged from his lips as he strokes him. slow and exploring.. doesn't take his eyes from him as he turns his mouth and guides the head between his lips sucking him between a full pout where he's eager to sample him by sucking the skin. the taste. he moans and begins to lap over the swollen, leaking tip as he strokes him. long lashes dip down as his hand stills.. leaving all but the pull of each suck over his crown and the sweep of his tongue that's unending. one side to the other. around. pressing against the slit there. as he settles into the motion and sensation of having him stuck there, trapped in his mouth. the flavor?! he could get addicted, wants to. needs to. fuck, he's actually doing this!

Dean yielded to his every move. The space he claimed, the entry he demanded. Even pressed chest to chest, it wasn't enough. There was still too much between them, and he couldn't articulate how that was possible when he could feel every breath Dean fought for against his vessel's chest and face. He held Dean's with both hands and the utmost reverence. That impossible man, who would bleed for anyone and still thought himself irredeemable.

It was the hunter's need for air that pried them apart, with great reluctance. Castiel had half a mind to let his grace fill Dean's lungs and keep them content until he was content, but the Seraph wasn't certain he could maintain that concentration for long. Dean would be able to feel his own chest moving more, breathing harder. Winded for once, and not from lack of grace. Dean studied his face, and Castiel studied his. The heat that darkened his freckled cheeks, the swell of his pupils, and the slight puffy redness of his lips. His thumbs caressed those cheeks, and then it was Dean who captured his lips with force. Something about that sent a shiver up and down his spine, so much so that one of the bedside lamp bulbs exploded in a shower of sparks that left the room dimmer.

One of Jimmy's hands left Dean's face and pressed to his hip, and when a shift of fabric left bare skin against his thumb, the contact had Castiel reaching up under the hunter's shirt before he even realized that decision had been made. Desperate to feel the warmth of freckled skin against his hand, he slid it up Dean's back and held it there, soaking in the movement of muscles beneath it. The hunter was only human, Castiel could snap him in ways only God himself wouldn't struggle to undo. The trust yielded to him, not just for his strength but for all the protective layers Dean never lowered for anyone else, it was not taken for granted.

glass and the fine wires inside the bulb? apparently no match for the power of castiel's grace as their mouths explored one another. dean's with a growing hunger that only kept doubling every time his face was cradled or his skin was gifted a touch of the angel's fingertips. dizzy and spinning as his heart sped in his chest with the pulse of a drumming, impatient rumble of thunder clapping one after another in a feverish sky--he feels each rattle against his breastbone as if it might send every bone shattering under the storm. not that he'd mind. no. he'd tip-toe dance across the pieces at this point.

eyelids flutter open only for the greens of his eyes to disappear and roll white soon as the warm, roughness of cas's thumb grazed over heated exposed on his hip exposed by the way his shirt's riding up and the hem of his jeans and belt shift down as he squirms closer. without meaning to--the hunter moans. heavy and deep directly into cas's mouth. one single touch and he's all but melted and let himself crave. out in the open. not behind closed doors. not when he's alone so he can keep thoughts he'd never dare share secret and locked away. no. he falls right over that guarded edge. head first. no takebacks!

coats were removed to fall wherever they wanted. dean's with a leather and metallic thud somewhere behind him. cas's coat and vest? a more silent puddle onto the floor. tie tugged loose, only their shirts separate them now and it's enough. for about two seconds. bowed legs move and wrap around cas's middle, pulling them both impossibly tighter once those are gone. it's easier to breathe but barely. as adrenaline coated want floods in now that the tiny hole in the dam's been punctured completely and left the entire damn thing crumbling to ruin.

dean's hands are trembling as they fuss with the knot on cas's tie. after several attempts (without letting their mouths split apart for more than a breath) the fabric's undone and the buttons are next. one after another until they are half unfastened and he can press his hands against the heat of the angel's chest. they curl, all ten. before fanning out and exploring his chest and the hollows of his collarbones. the dip of his neck. anywhere. all the while? shaking each time they lift only to steady upon touchdown.

lips part from one another just so dean's kiss swollen mouth can trace a line from them towards the defined line of a strong jaw and to his ear where the angel's name's whispered. mouth gently caresses the shell as the two syllables of castiel's name's groaned into it before he drifts down, latching onto the spot just alongside a pulsing jugular and sucking it between his lips. nails scrape skin. gentle, learning as his thighs press against the outside of cas's hips bringing with the action, a sudden realization, he's getting hard. fuck! a new rush of red gets hidden as he sucks against skin desperate to get hold of himself and knowing there's no god damn way.

Full, barely a scratch or blemish among them. That is what surprises me, to find something so soft and tender on a man I know for scars and scrapes, wounds and roughness. His lips are a glimpse of the man underneath all of it, the one I've come to know in restless nights and moments of weakness, when he was vulnerable enough to trust that my hand would bring him back to health.

I've always promised it would. No matter what.

It's a promise I keep even now, weight carefully distributed to avoid the bruises he came in with, hips rolling in his lap with awareness of the fresh stitches I don't want to pull. And he meets me, eager.

"Dean."

I breathe his name against his mouth, eyes closed, lips parted.

"I need you."

oliver tastes just how he imagined. and he's imagined it more times than he'd ever admit out loud. too many embarrassing nights with a hand over his mouth in the other room panting and losing himself with the image of dark eyes staring at him with the hunger they are. righ this second. so many nights, he'd lose himself after the good doctor plead for him to rest up after fixing this or that cut, scratch, bullet hole or other magical would. if for nothing more than to not have to come back the next night needed all that work redone.

bright eyes glisten with a want so deep it makes his stomach twist and grow warm as he opens long lashes at the sound of his name spoken on oliver's voice. barely a whisper. yet consuming nonetheless. eagerness and need drip from his gaze, from parted lips that gasp for air the moment their mouths are far enough apart that a breath will slip across damp and kiss swollen skin.

half-lidded and staring upwards, head canted back--a trail of gooseflesh erupts at his neck and dances down the sides of it. over his chest and ribs. sends him shuddering underneath oliver's weight as the doctor's hips grind against him making the effect they are having one one another very evident through the clothing separating the two.

the bulge in dean's pants is thick. hard. and he can feel the same against him with every careful sway oliver takes the liberty of upon his lap. he hears the man say i need you and a groan swells up and topples out before he can swallow it down. "please.. need you too." hips grind against him and hit him right at the spot that brushes their lengths together. muffled through jeans but the whimper? not muffed at all. he nods. trembling fingers steady themselves on oliver's stomach before dipping down to unfasten his belt. takes him a few tries and pushes a dark crimson over his nose. heart thundering in his ears, he gasps and whispers quick. rushed. ".. if you need me? have me."

i'll do anything. just take me.

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: Dean looks better when his eyes are lifted to perceive the godly apparition of the vampire in front of him. Admiring himself in the emerald reflection of the mortal's glossy pupils, Lestat restrains him, pulling the belt in hopes of leaving a bruised necklace for Dean to wear on his many endeavors. Maybe a family dinner. He'd love to hear what Sam has to say about his brother's endeavors with monsters while on the clock.

A low hiss rises from the rockstar's parted lips as he presses his spine into the cushion of his seat, lounging like a lethargic king upon the throne with the favorite jester planted between his knees. Dean is exceptionally good, a natural, at being pathetic. Lestat remarks this with a smirk and quirked eyebrow as he holds the hunter as close to his body as he is able with the belt that threatens to choke the mortal if the undead so wishes. The warm tongue against a cool stomach feels electrifying. Lestat presses his heels down on the ground, rolling his hips to involve himself with Dean's warm mouth. He doesn't try to outperfom his hunter in volume. No, no. This is Winchester's show, and the rockstar, for once, is an audience member, humbly awaiting his cock to be submerged into a drool of worship. Lestat's eyes flutter as a prolonged curse lifts from his lips. Dean's hunger rivals his own.

Lestat sighs and sinks his upper teeth against his upper lip. His unoccupied hand drifts over Dean's dark hair, plunging into the longer tresses to gather a generous grip before applying pressure to sink the hunter deeper. "That's it," the vampire purrs innocuously. "You've got it just right, my love."

beads of wet gather against the corners of dean's mouth as he sinks lower, swallowing him to the point of damn near choking. his ascent up? tongue presses tight and he moans at the taste hungrily devouring every inch of his mouth and turning the flavor of skin and want addictive. something he'll hunger later to the point he'll have a fist wrapped around himself, muffling his moans with the crook of his arm as he cums on cheap motel sheets that'll get wadded up and tossed in an overworked maid's hamper when she passes by. he'll save that for weeks from now. when the memory keeps resurfacing, dragging him under. sending a shock up his spine that plays out in real time now.

as his lover's low voice encourages him with words and demands more with a guiding hand, the belt tightens just enough around his throat that he ends up moaning as a tendril of spit runs down the side of his chin. this time? he lifts both hands up, fingers clutch lestat's thighs desperately and he feels the solid, blunt tip hit the back of his throat. tears swell up behind thick eyelashes and stick there when those dazed eyes open and stare blindly up the length of a paled, scarred torso at the blond who breaches that stop and slips into his throat.

the moan lestat draws out of him is deep. thick. caves in his gut.

Hughie knows he's being an asshole, but he also knows that Dean is lapping up ever lick of cruelty he dishes out. He knows Dean can take it. Besides, Hughie doesn't leave him on tenterhooks for very long. His ears are soon filled with the most beautiful sounds and while Dean's visage is lost to him, head flung back against pillows, he still gets to experience such sweet wonder, the sensation of Dean falling to pieces by his own design.

There is a slight sliver of cruelty that runs through, for Hughie doesn't stop. Not when Dean gives him that sweet warning, stuttered words and quivering hips, not when he's actively cumming and words are bursting out of him. He keeps going, keeps Dean going, riding him through the orgasm, continuing to pull apart when he's sure Dean thinks he can't come apart any more than he already is. The bricks may be hastily restacked after, but there is no denying that the wall has come tumbling down and from which explodes desire that cannot be squirreled away again.

Dean begs to be fucked. Hughie continues to suck, the corners of his mouth raw with drool, happier than he can say with every word, that comes out of Dean's mouth, every sound, it's all music. Finally, when Hughie is certain Dean can't take any more, he pulls out with a short gasp. Almost immediately, he crawls up, lying on top of Dean, wrapping his arms around him.

hughie doesn't stop sucking him. and the way that dean's on the very edge of screaming only doubles down as his hand lifts up to clamp over his eyes like that's the only thing keeping what's left of him remotely anchored to the earth. hips buck and stutter. thrash and roll. whimpers tumble from trembling lips as he's pulled past the point of oversensitive and ends up crying out, mouth wet and a tendril of spit running down the corner of his lip before he shouts the other's name so loud--he hears himself. muffled and distant. pitched reverberations that bounce back through a clouded, dazed mind that barely grips that he is the one making those sounds. broken. the walls are beyond broken. they're crumbled to dust and he wouldn't have it any other way if he could.

thighs remain wide open. calves that were tight turn to liquid in the aftermath. entire frame that's lived through one battle after another. has taken as many beatings as he's dished out turns to putty. fingers part, he peeks through their lengths at hughie as the lanky man climbs up his frame and settles between his legs.

arms wrap around him. both hands come to grip strong shoulders, his fingernails graze over pale skin as hughie murmurs words in his ear that earn another groan of want pulled from his very core. i would love to fuck you. i loved sucking out off. i loved every minute of it. christ. how can he not swallow every syllable down like a man drowning and trying to gulp down the ocean rather than suffocate?

Every moan, every cry, delivered straight to his own cock. Thank god he'd had the foresight to shove his back into his underwear and pants, because Benny couldn't help the way his hips had to grind against the ground for friction. He relaxed his throat, taking in as much of Dean as he could, and sucked hard on the drawback before swallowing him again. The arm wrapped around Dean's thigh withdrew and reached up, SQUEEZING over one of the hunter's pecs as he bobbed and sucked. The other arm kept Dean pinned, not because he didn't trust him to stay put still, but because Dean liked that. He liked someone else being physically in control.

Benny moaned around Dean's shaft. He'd wanted this so damn bad for so damn long, ever since setting eyes on the beautiful hunter. He'd wanted to pin the man down and make him howl, like that wasn't the worst thing to do in a place like this. Didn't care. He'd died in here for a lot less. Dean's nipple was pinched and rolled between his fingers, wanting another reaction like the one his mouth couldn't provide at the moment. Next time, maybe. He'd pull his shirt open and suck those tits until Dean was hard enough to BEG. Give him something to think about on the drive back to his angel. Funny how much thought he'd already put into this fictional custody agreement between a vampire, a Seraph, and a human man.

don't you dare tempt him, benny. you have no idea what you are capable of right now. dean's hand lifts, palm covering his mouth and muting the moans as he feels tongue and lips and that suction dragging him deeper underneath the waves of pleasure rolling through heavy limbs and dancing along his spine. the insides of his thighs tremble. bowed knees fall open from the lack of any tiny amount of strength left over to keep them raised even the slightest. this is addicting. this is so fucking addicting! heart hammering in his chest. brain spinning on repeat like a coney island tilt-a-whirl gone bonkers--he aches so fucking burning and bright to start thrusting into the feverish heat that swallows him. against the tongue that is velvet wet and so fucking hungrily licking every taste of him off his skin.

again that hardened flesh is toyed with. sends a jolt of pleasure from the point of contact radiating through his chest and back and dean's head tips back against the ground as he sucks in a sharp breath into starved lungs. hips stutter against the ground. dean's nipple hardens, stays that way and the ache the touch leaves behind is almost as consuming as the touch itself. jesus christ!

"benny," he whimpers and barely recognizes his own voice from the pitched whine that lefts spit wet lips. elbow shoved against rock and ground, enough leverage gained to barely lift himself up enough that he can stare down the length of his body at the sight between his legs. how he looks sinking between benny's lips, how he can see and feel it at the same time--the overwhelming sense of this is really fucking happening after years of wondering, years of fantasizing what this might be like.. it's happening and it's happening with a gorgeous fucking vampire of all people! in purgatory. where things go to rot or fight or rot, fight and suffer for eternity. seems even more god damn crazy than watching himself getting sucked off by this man..

                                CASTIEL STARTS TO GROW WARM. The first drops of sweat form near his hairline as Dean rubs over a sensitive nipple, sending little shivers of pleasure all through his body. He tries to keep the vibrator steady, but it's hard to focus when Dean's hand slips lower, lower, and then starts to tease at the crown of Castiel's semi-erection. It doesn't take long for it to fill up, full and hard, curving up towards Castiel's belly. "Dean," he groans when a hot, wet mouth sucks a mark into his skin. Nobody will be able to see it there, not during this weather (they'd been invited to a pool party once, and Castiel, unassuming, had doffed his shirt after a very passionate night, and let's just say they weren't invited to the pool party the following year), but he'll know and feel it, and that's enough.

eyelids flutter as he feels cas stiffening more in his hand. deft fingers that've memorized every contour. every dip and vein. dean's savord the velvet flesh to a point where he covets the simple taste. let alone the sensation rippling through his wrist as he begins to stroke. slow but steady. thumb never ending that swirl over a soon glistening head. barely blinking, green eyes jerk his attention up (barely connects their gazes at this angle and the quickness that he flicks it back down is at breakneck speed, as if it'd be a tragedy to miss a single peek)--he whimpers hot and heavy between their bodies as the first dip inside sends a wave of heat over his belly and between his legs. subtle thumb presses the speed on the vibrator and rips another sharp cry from parted lips. christ! that feels almost too much!

                            CASTIEL CAN FEEL DEAN'S TESTICLES STIFFEN IN HIS HAND a second before Dean's brain registers that he's about to come, and his features crumple into an almost shocked expression that would be amusing to Castiel if he wasn't busy rolling the tight skin between his fingers and sucking around a stiff erection pulsating semen into his mouth. He has to pull off a little because swallowing is easier that way, but a few drops still escape him and dribble down his chin. Castiel pays no attention to that; instead, he sucks Dean through his orgasm until the last drop is spent and the flesh between his lips starts to grow a little softer.

the round eyed expression pinches together as the last of the sweetest bliss he's ever known finishes with him seeing cas swallow him down and the streak dribbling out his chin damn near makes him sink in twice and he would if it were possible. instead.. shaking fingers reach out to touch that strand but fall short as exhaustion sends him collapsing back against the couch--panting with wet lips, a dry mouth and closed eyes. chest heaving deep gasps for air, dean attempts to re-center himself. realizes it's gonna take more than that. more than the old couch bobbing under cas's weight. more power than he's got in his reserves apparently. tongue snakes out over his mouth, snags his bottom lip and drags it between his teeth as he attempts to lick his mouth and the skin just past the bump of flesh he's chewing damp again.

Praise did so much for Dean, Benny wondered if he could get the man off just by murmuring filthy affirmations in his ear. Wouldn't that be something. The hunter wrestled back a bit of control by asking for his mouth, grinding up against him with wrists still pinned to the ground, and fuck if that wasn't hot. What came next was a surprise, and a welcome one. It earned a fresh, bruising kiss as Benny's hips pushed Dean's into the ground in their bid for friction. Seeing as it was gonna be a minute before his cock would get any further attention.

"Take your jacket off," Benny growled against his lips. "Shirt, too. I like to work my way down." Dean's wrists were freed at last, and Benny helped the man undress from the waist up. Tossed both toward the stream, seeing as they were both painted with cum. His. The vampire saved them both some time and peeled off his own jacket and henley, and there was no hiding just how pasty he was, or the fact that he was just a bit less chiseled as Dean. Didn't mean he wasn't stronger, just not as defined. With the hunter bare? Benny couldn't contain himself. He leaned down and kissed Dean's throat and then lower. Lower. Both hands folded over his pecs and squeezed before one was released and claimed by his mouth instead. They both desperately needed to get clean, but he didn't care. Dean asked for his mouth, he didn't specify where.

benny's demand is met with a groan and a sharp, curt nod. his jacket. his shirt. off.

dean would almost regret not having his wrists pinned against the ground if it weren't for the fact that his request seemed to spur benny on so deep that the kiss slammed against his mouth was nothing short of pleasure wrapped ache that spread over his lips and chin. inked, freckled skin begs to be exposed. the heat spreading over his limbs is damn near close to unbearable as they grind against one another. every breath rises and falls as erratic as his pulse. fingers curl towards his palms as he rolls up into the friction letting the moments between his answer and whatever was to come next spread out. teasing them both and coax him back to stiff and ready.

soon as his shirt and jacket are nothing more articles of clothing that're gonna need to be washed off before wearing again--green eyes take in their surroundings as the heat that was swallowing him up earlier is erased and replaced by a rush of pink dusted over the bridge of a freckled nose and cheekbones. the hunter looks spellbound when benny's movement bears him to take in. pale. muscular. thick. gorgeous. his face says it all. then he returns, mouth eagerly claiming a spot on his neck (a gesture that has dean's craning and his head turning as goosebumps trickle down the length of his throat into the holllow of his clavicle) and sends dean's brain into overdrive as he begins to lower himself.

heavy moans fill the air as he moves down, squeezing his skin and--the sharp yelp and instant shove of both hands into benny's hair soon as those lips close around his nipple are a dead giveaway that someone definitely enjoyed that. fleeting pleasure dances along his skin. he can still feel the wet mark benny left behind as the vampire rose up and removed his pants for him. the curve of his pelvis against the ground before it lifts makes the effort easy, bowed legs part and he's damn near naked in fucking purgatory with god damn nightmares surrounding them knowing damn well they better keep their distance from them, the water and becoming nothing more than past-tense if they dared to interrupt. heavy and stiff by the time benny's gotten settled (and one foot's shimmied out of a pants leg and the matching side of his boxers to free him) the vampire (bastard!) artfully avoids contact with exactly where dean wants it--be a good boy--happens and (fuck!!!) close to every hue of green, orange and yellow left in dean's eyes gets swallowed by black. lips part as he stares down the length of his torso and meets a blue, unwavering stare.