i know we talk about Dean bottoming a lot— and lord help me if that’s not one of my favorite things to talk about— but i think Dean topping is also a subject worth broaching, especially since you know he’d be so careful and soft and tender as he enters someone else’s body (for the sake of convenience, let’s say ~Cas~). he’d hold Cas tightly against him, palms wide and comforting at the small of Cas’s back. and he’d drop so many kisses and make those tiny little hitching thrusts because it feels so damn good to be inside of someone he loves and Dean knows this is a gift and he cherishes it by going slow and breathing open-mouthed and reverent against Cas’s collarbones.
then after he settles in, Cas’ll whisper: “harder, Dean. come on.”
and then game over because Dean is also 180 pounds of Kansas boy muscle and he gives it so good and long and sweaty and hot, you can bet your ass he’ll have Cas screaming on his cock in half an hour tops~ (▰˘◡˘▰)
based on this chat post
Castiel can’t sleep.
He rents out a motel room out of habit more than anything else, shrugs off his jacket and lays languid, arms crossed, closes his eyes; waits for the world to taper off.
He can feel the uncomfortable buzz of grace bubbling up on his lips, this strange, foreign substance that doesn’t belong to him, struggling to eject itself from his body. He feels its warm thrum in his fingertips, a sensation he thought he had missed, and viciously counts sheep, mouths psalms until his lips feel as if they should be numb. As if they should be.
Blinking, Castiel opens his eyes. He can discern objects even in the dark, or can rather sense where they are spatially. That had never been a distraction from sleep before now. He curls his fingers into the thin cotton sheets, aching for a spark of sensation, and breathes out slowly. There’s no relief in the exhalation, no feeling like some of the weight in his body is flooding out from his lungs.
In which I talk a bit about Dean and Cas and the specific tropes their dynamic has been touching on this season.