[if he were at a point where he could string an idea together that was more than a gestural abstraction painting of obscenities, blasphemies and cas' name he might find it funny that he's about to get off just by grinding against cas like he's in gradeschool again, but here he is. his hand flutters restlessly from his twining grip at his hair down his back and over shoulders to dig into his shirt at his lower back, pulling fabric tight as he tilts his face against his bared throat to muffle the stream of aforementioned in between kisses licks and bites. noisy enough for the both of them at least, he only goes quiet when he relents to the cresting buildup and grits out an exhausted rattle of a groan through clenched teeth, slick hand still working cas]
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