[ there's no denying that he tried to imagine, to fantasize what it would be like. in the fantasy scenarios, he'd tended to be very directive with dean, but reality is playing out much differently. he feels like warm clay, pliant and unable to hold his shape, just formed however dean's hands decide. the hand in his hair makes him throw back his head, mouth open but soundless. the hand squeezing and pulling makes his hips roll, then piston by alternates. he recrosses his arms behind dean's head and locks them there, one hand gripping an elbow, just to ensure he doesn't collapse. ]
no subject