Dean Winchester Is A Gay Virgin (Destiel)

Chapter 12: Chapter 6: Dean

Dean has never brought anyone home before. It's such a teen drama concept that he isn't sure how he should react, especially when Cas looks around the bedroom with a crooked grin on his face.

His bedroom really isn't that special. It's blue. It has a bed. There are clothes on the floor. End of discussion.

But Cas looks at it like he's in the fucking White House.

"Do you want to..." Dean scratches the back of his neck, not sure what he's really asking, "...go to sleep, I guess? You can have my bed. I don't mind sleeping on the couch."

Cas looks at Dean, still smiling. "I would love to take your bed, but I'd much rather you sleep in it with me." He smirks, adding, "If you'd like."

As a response, Dean steps in Cas's space and places his hand on Cas's cheek, pulling him in for another kiss.

This kiss has intent, and Dean can feel the fire in Cas, all the way down to his bones, that manic intensity that draws everyone to him like a magnet. He wants to give that ferocity back, but he's keeping himself roped in, treading carefully. This is all too new, too fragile.

As Cas moves from Dean's lips to his neck, he ravages it with small bites and kisses. Grabbing the hem of Dean's t-shirt, Cas lifts it up and tears it off of him. He pulls away, blinking at Dean's chest, and growls a word in Russian.

Dean is painfully hard already, and the Russian-speaking only makes it worse, which Dean can tell Cas notices because his eyes flick down to the bulge in Dean's jeans and then back up to his eyes.

He grins, devious, and maneuvers Dean by his hips, kissing his chest, until the back of Dean's knees hit his bed, and Cas pushes him down on top of it to straddle him at the waist.

Cas pulls his suspenders off his shoulders while Dean unbuttons his dress shirt with deft fingers and – dear god – there's that perfectly chiseled chest which Dean hasn't seen since the luau but has dreamed about every day since. He pulls Cas back down to him and they're kissing again, frantic and hot, groaning in each other's mouths as Cas tears his shirt the rest of the way off. Finally there's skin touching skin and fingers exploring lines of muscle and bone. Dean can feel how hard Cas is as he grinds onto Dean's hip and smothers his neck and chest with kisses and ragged breaths.

When Cas climbs back up to pull Dean's lower lip into his mouth, Dean runs his hands up Cas's back and sits up to twist Cas back down on his side next to him. They're facing each other on the bed, and Dean puts his leg between Cas's while Cas slides his leg up Dean's side, wrapping it around his hip so that every inch of their bodies that can possibly be touching is flush against each other.

The problem is that there are still two too many pairs of pants being worn, but when Dean realizes that, when he thinks about where this is headed and how it got started, he musters together every ounce of his willpower and breaks away from Cas, breathless and trembling with want.

They stare at each other, Cas's eyes blown wide, darkened with lust, and Dean can see the deep, intense power in him, which is so often hidden by a mask of innocent charm.

It's one part terrifying and two parts hot as fuck.

"Cas..." Dean begins at the same time Cas says, "Dean..."

They both hesitate, and at the same time again, say, "I can't..." followed by, "I've never..."

"You go first," Dean says.

"I don't think we should do this right now, Dean," Cas replies, remorseful.

Dean smiles, relieved, but still maintains focus on willing his body to cool off. "Yeah, I... I kind of agree. I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Don't get me wrong, Cas. I want you. I mean I really, really want you. But I want more than your body." He lifts his head up to kiss Cas's forehead, then ducks down and kisses above Cas's heart. "We'll wait," he assures while reaching up and carding his hand through Cas's hair, then pulling him in for a slow, deep kiss.