mid twenties | T. Swift blog is @heletsherbejeweled | Everything is okay to reblog | Hold on to life's hand. It is soft and warm, and the callouses stay to protect you. | NSFW isn't reblogged often but the tag is notsfw
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SCENES FROM BOOK 1: WATER
"You know what the worst part of being born over a hundred years ago is? I miss all the friends I used to hang out with. Before the war started, I used to always visit my friend Kuzon. The two of us, we'd get in and out of so much trouble together. He was one of the best friends I ever had... And he was from the Fire Nation, just like you. If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends, too?"
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Mac hasn't seen Dennis in over a year. The son of a bitch left him, made it seem like it was okay to do, as if he had any right to do this. Mac, angry as ever, was on him the moment he walked through their apartment door, barely giving him any time to finish closing the door before he crowded him against it, hands on the wood boxing him in, hot breath in his ear, speaking for him, because what is he supposed to say that would let him know just how much he hates him for leaving? There's no words in the English language, probably no words in any other language either. Yet, somehow, he communicates what he needs to, and they move until Dennis has his forehead against Mac's, body sagging against his, a silent apology written into his features, the neverending pain seeping out of his bones.
"You're here," Mac whispers, two words, all he can manage, and Dennis nods.
"Yeah," he responds, but he barely makes it through the syllable before Mac is capturing his lips and grabbing onto his biceps and digging in, putting his body against his in the closest way possible, and refusing to let go. Dennis moans, grinds into the knee that meets his crotch, and Mac's grip becomes stronger. He pushes back until Dennis's head knocks into the door, but neither of them notice, as Mac is now slipping his tongue inside and moving his hands to place them on his cheeks, doing nothing more but feeling the warmth from their combined fervor.
Dennis is the one who breaks it off. He has to talk into the kiss before Mac is willing to let go, but when he does, he stops the movement of his knee, and he looks into Dennis's eyes, the blue barely there through the dark lighting and his blown pupils, and he laughs. It's a quick thing, but it holds a lot of weight. Dennis frowns, then asks, "Why did you laugh?"
Mac smiles. He can see his spit on Dennis's lips, shiny as he talks. "Because you're here. In front of me. I never thought this would happen again."
"I wasn't going to be gone forever."
"Yes, you were," Mac argues, then shuts Dennis up by kissing him again. It lasts less time before Dennis breaks it apart again.
"I didn't get to tell you what I wanted to."
"What do you want, babe?"
"It's been a while," he says, like it's something he's ashamed of.
"With anyone?"
"It was too hard in North Dakota."
Mac's breath trembles, and he gives him a small, chaste kiss, but it's still so much more than he could ever ask for. Dennis is right here, in front of him. "How do you want it?"
"Slow. I want to feel you."
Mac nods, then cups a cheek and kisses the other one, slow and soft, and he makes his way down.
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With Castiel cradled on his lap, Dean's mouth is dry and his lips are swollen. He and Cas have been making out for who knows how long, both happy to relish in each other. It's still a new affair, this whole making out with each other. Sleeping with each other. Feeling Cas's hard cock through his trousers.
It's that that makes Dean think they're going somewhere with making out, but when Cas pulls back, it's not to tell Dean they need to move to the bedroom, get more comfortable, have some fun. Those are easy words to say, Cas has been saying them almost every day for a week. He's insatiable, his little angel back from the dead. No, instead Cas sniffs the air. Leans back a little, Dean's arms wrapped around his back, rocks with his thighs, loses himself in thought. He sniffs the air again, then moves closer to Dean's nose. Dean wants to take it as an invitation to kiss his angel again, distract him from whatever weird thing he's doing, but Cas pulls back right as Dean goes for his lips.
Cas puts his hand on Dean's bladder--no, just slightly above his bladder. He presses down slightly, but mostly his touch is gentle. "Cas, what the hell are you doing?" Dean demands. He's got a particular look on his face, almost the same look Sam gets when Dean hasn't taken the trash out in a while. Dean was hard, but it's quickly going away.
"Dean, you might be pregnant."
Dean sputters, swallows down his spit. "What?" he practically yells, then he laughs. About five different emotions rolled into one, but Cas only stares quizzically, looking right through Dean. "Cas, buddy, I know you're not human, but you gotta know by now that men can't get pregnant."
Cas hums, a soft sound from the back of his throat. "I understand that. But you smell pregnant. I can't seem to figure out why."
Dean doesn't know how to respond to that. He knows Cas has some type of freaky angel nose, he can smell things about humans that Dean is glad he'll never get the chance to, but what could Cas possibly be smelling that would indicate Dean were pregnant? He knows they've been having a lot of sex lately, he knows he's got a newfound love for bottoming, but still-- the confusion is there.
"Cas, are you smelling--" he hesitates, has to move his eyes to the wall. "Are you smelling your come inside me? Because I know I've cleaned it out, but you've got a big dick--"
Cas interrupts him. "No, Dean. I know what that smells like and this isn't it." He climbs off of Dean's lap, leaving Dean feeling cold and empty, but he's immediately distracted when Cas is smelling his crotch like some kind of dog. Cas pulls back, lifts his face towards Dean, and is he... is he smirking?
Dean squirms in his chair, about to take Cas by the hair and push him away. "Cas, dude," he mumbles.
"I figured it out, Dean. You are, in fact, not pregnant."
"No shit," Dean deadpans, his hand twitching to grab Cas already.
"However, your testes are not producing the testosterone they should be. Your luteinizing hormone levels are too high, they're getting stuck in your testes. I had mistaken them for human chorionic gonadotropin, I do apologize. Often times the smells can mix together and when I am otherwise occupied," he trails off, places a hand on Dean's thigh.
"You think I'm pregnant," Dean responds.
"Precisely. It would be quite endearing if I could get you pregnant, though." He's smiling again, this time much more brightly, and Dean wants to enjoy his joke, this angel who rarely ever jokes, but instead he's focused on what Cas had said.
"My testes--balls," he corrects himself, as if that makes the sentence more masculine, "aren't making testosterone?"
Cas makes his way back up his body, hands sliding easily underneath Dean's shirt. "Nothing to worry about," he promises. "The likely cause is from when I damaged your testicles the other day."
"Something you won't do again."
"No, I assure you it was merely an accident. I can speed up the healing process for you if you would like, but I must admit, I quite enjoy the scent." He sniffs the air again, the hands under his shirt tightening onto Dean's biceps. Dean softly gasps when Cas brushes against a hard nipple.
"They don't hurt," he whispers, and Cas understands the answer.
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