tumbataure | 171st page

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mossy forest

171st page

After the hole is sealed and Ninurta's done away with, your entire party is bippity bopped to the other side of the forest. If there were stragglers that got separated, you're all in one place again. If you lost gear, weapons, phones, whatever, it's back on your person, functional again. If you lost any organs you're on your own though. No but basically you've been bewitched to safety out of the forest and the evil noises have stopped, you're homefree, homies. There's a crow perched on a rundown fence post along the road watching you with beady little eyes before it takes off back into the forest.

The map takes you to a rundown little bed and breakfast not but a fifteen minute walk out that looks like it was abandoned a while ago. No foul play, just closed for business, the economy is rough when you're located next to a haunted forest. Feel free to avail yourself of its beds, there's no room service but least you don't have to pay.

[Mission: get your bearings, make sure all your shits there, do a headcount, follow the road. call dibs on a room. rest up]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ yeah, "good" describes it, but in the same way that "old" describes a mountain. he lifts upward into it, supplying his own side of pressure to their closed lips, jaw rocking slow under the brush of thumb as he works his mouth across dean's. it's only slanting this way, then that, pursing against top lip, then bottom, nothing more, but all of his focus is on the resulting sensations.

his idle hand leaves the lumpy mattress and scales dean's right arm, mirroring the left hand when it pauses at the shoulder for a beat before continuing. it lands in the shorn short hair along dean's nape and he leaves it there, fingers curling and uncurling with the rhythm of dean's breathing. ]

[his breath is coming in disjointed huffs as he pulls away after dragging his mouth over the corner of cas', hitting rough stubble and kind of pausing there to laugh to himself]

I feel like I need to send out a formal apology to all the chicks I've given beard burn.

[figures the first thing he'd say during all this is like the least meaningful thing he could come up with. he hovers there, swallows hard and draws his tongue over his lip, hand stilled at cas' shoulder]

[ the puff of a laugh makes him curious, and he blinks his eyes open like someone coming out of anesthesia, struggling and slow to focus. it's halfway through dean's sentence before cas even registers that he's talking. he sort of tuned out human speech somewhere around the first touch of lips, focusing on nonverbal language since it was netting much better results in this conversation. that's why there's a bit of a delay before he laughs, one quick sighing burst of it with his lip drawn up over his teeth. ]

It..it does chafe. A bit.

Yeah.

[his reaction just makes him laugh more, dropping his forehead to his shoulder so he doesn't sound like a maniac for finding something so dumb so funny. his hand slides down and away as he pulls off of him, settling on his back next to him with an exhale in the general direction of the ceiling. but the punchdrunk smile that mirrored cas' doesn't last long, slipping away with the onslaught of what ifs and what nows]

[ when dean pulls back, cas' arms just sink to his sides on the bed, boneless and lethargic. he feels like a stretched spring that's been released, no longer tensed but coiled up tight potential energy. he feels caught in that moment midflight when his wings give out, before he starts to plummet. hearing dean's weighted exhale at his side, he rolls his face on the pillow toward him. ]

[ runs his tongue over his buzzing mouth and tries, very hard, to read dean's mind without actually reading his mind. ]

Dean.

[tilts face to the side against pillow to meet his look but doesn't hold it for long, moving an arm up over his eyes to try and stave off the wave of what am i doings for a little while longer]

You know the pillow talk part is supposed to come after the banging.

[waves his other hand at him or at least in his general direction]

Who's talking?

[ with the arm obscuring his eyes, dean put himself at a bit of a disadvantage here. it's all the edge cas needs to be able to throw himself over dean, one knee at his hip and the other in the space between his bowed thighs.

both of his hands, not boneless now they've got a renewed purpose, reach for dean. one of them grabs the wrist that's dangling beside dean's brow, pins it there to keep him from dropping the arm. he buries the fingers of the other in the longer hair on top of dean's head, raking it into a mess as he slots their mouths back together and parts his lips. ]

Cas-

[it's more of a surprised exhale than a protest, but he does buck up at the hand at his wrist reflexively, only settling down when his mouth is over his again. his shoulders sink against the mattress and he tips his head back with a groan, bringing his other hand up to clutch at the first thing it can find, the front of cas' coat to drag him down into it, opening his mouth against his in kind and grazing his tongue against his lip]

[ groans in kind, back curling as he's pulled in. the fingers around dean's wrist give a squeeze, gratitude or maybe encouragement, and he chases the touch of tongue with his lips before opening them wider to draw it in. ]

[pulls wrist through his grip until their fingers brush and he takes cas' wrist instead, pulling his arm up over his head as he leans up to press into his mouth harder. he lifts his knee between cas' legs to wedge his thigh against him while he struggles to get his jacket off one-handed, mumbling muffled noises that could be an attempt at words cas probably doesn't want to hear of the god variety]

[ for his part, the only noises out of cas' mouth now are so far removed from words there couldn't be any mistaking them. they're sharp pitched one moment, breathy from high in the throat, then flat and low and echoing in the space where their teeth are clashing.

when dean's leg settles between his, cas has to let go of his hold in dean's hair, palm slapping the bed to keep him from collapsing. it's fighting dirty, but cas knows how to do that too. he drags his lips from dean's, tucks his face into his neck to bite at the bolt of his jaw, only pausing to speak against his ear. ]

Two-- two hands would be more effective, Dean. Let me go?

[well now that his hair looks sufficiently ridiculous. his hips twist off the bed in response and he yelps, gruff and cut short when he snaps his mouth closed because there's people in earshot thanks. would not. have taken cas for a biter.]

--You got it.

[huffed out in a single breath, he lets his wrist go and turns his face to the side like ugly curtains take the wheel before moving to push the jacket off his shoulders, affecting his best the buck stops here tone]

No hickeys.

[ just the barest moment of a sheepish look directed at the sheets, maybe having gotten a little carried away, but he nods. ]

That's...agreeable.

[ pushes himself upright with both hands now freed, which leaves him in a position of straddling dean's upraised thigh, more of his weight being borne by the juncture of his legs. it's a new experience, to say the least, and it feels like the breath is being pressed out of him by that point of contact, which is all the more reason for him to be hasty in tugging at the ties of his coat to get it open and off as soon as possible. ]

[works himself up to an elbow to tug his own jacket free and shoves it off over the side of the bed, reaching down to unsnap his pistol from its holster while cas strips his toplayer down to set it on the table like good thing the safety was on that's all im saying.]

[tilts chin up to watch him after he settles back on his arms with that half-second smile reserved for post-purgatory cleaned up cas, reaching up to tug at one of the ties on his larp shirt]

Does that make me Buttercup?

[ all that gets dean is a brief head tilt and furrowed brows that say cas is neither familiar with the source material nor is he amused by the referencing thereof. ]

[ but whatever it is, it isn't something that dean finds offputting. it's more on-putting, at least as it pertains to dean's hands. he looks down at where the ties of his shirt are being toyed with and the confused look gets replaced by impatience. ]

I'll call you by whatever name you want if you get on with it.

[ he's not even sure what "it" is for them, how far dean is willing to take them, but wherever it is, cas wants to be there yesterday. ]

[holds his hands out in surrender but gives him a petulant dig of his eyebrows and purse of his lips anyway]

Okay, chill. Not like it's my first gay thing ever.

[leans forward to tug him down off his knee into his lap by the front of his belt and pulls at the strap with one hand to leverage it open. he gathers the hem of his shirt out of the way and runs the palm of his other over his stomach to come to rest at his hip, worrying his lip as he concentrates like it's a fuckin rubiks cube or something]

[ grabs for dean's forearms to steady himself once he slides down into the new position, almost bumping his nose into dean's chin before adjusting to it. close like this, he can see the hesitation and the uncertainty, and it makes him repentant. ]

Mine, too.

[ his voice has lost the impatient edge, and his hands are slower as they move to dean's wrists again. somehow, he knows telling dean that they don't need to keep going, that they can take it easy, would be a slight to his pride, maybe an implication that dean isn't up to the challenge, so he doesn't say it. but he hopes that dean knows it, that this isn't because he has something to prove. ]

I could help.

Well I'd hope so, I mean it takes two to...have a first gay thing.

[looks up at him finally after his hand stills at cas' touch]

You know if I- I'd put the emergency brake on. I'm just, it's uncharted territory, here. But it's not like I'm hurtin.

[gestures hand at his lap like. i mean. come on. speaking for itself down there. raises eyebrows at him before working the button closure open and tugging him forward again to slot their hips together for emphasis with a sharp inhale]

[ all the while dean's talking, he's watching his lips moving and trying very hard not to be distracted from the seriousness of the information being relayed. it's not easy to stay focused, especially when dean is unsubtle about drawing attention to his lap. then there's the relief of his pants placket being opened, making room for the swelling, right before the tugging business traps it against rough denim. ]

[ chases the air into dean's lungs on that inhale, sealing their mouths together again. dean doesn't get any words out of him in response to his confession, just noise muffled against his own lips and an overeager roll of hips. ]

[works a hand through his hair, fingers curling against the back of his neck as he chokes out another oh, god against his mouth. he plays a thumb over his hipbone before drawing his hand away to wedge it between them, hurrying to wrestle his own fly and zip open before moving his hand over the curve of his ass to drag him closer, hand braced behind himself on the mattress to grind against him through too many layers of clothes still]

[ shudders under the hand on his neck, down the length of his spine to his hips. they stutter, then fall back into the rhythm dean's directing. fitting his hands between their hips is out of the question because the current pace would be interrupted. he drapes both arms around dean's neck instead, elbows hooked over his shoulders and uses the leverage to keep dean within reach of his mouth at all times. ]

[ driving his knees and the soles of his boots into the mattress helps with the leverage, too, the grinding just shy of painful with how much pressure and friction they're generating. ]

[and denim is not kind. he has to move a hand to his chest to slow it down after a time before he grinds himself raw, tilting his face down to disengage mouths and mumbling a wait, wait to work his hand between them and shimmying the waist of cas' pants down on his hips. his palm slides a trail down from his navel, pausing for a beat to look up at him again before edging his fingers under the waistband of his shorts to draw him out with like all the care he'd handle a fuckin antique rifle, circling a callused thumb over sticky mess and sliding down]

[ ducks into the collar of dean's shirt, breath labored and uneven. the jackhammering pulse he'd encountered earlier is nothing in comparison to this. he mouths along the skin he can reach, nosing into the shirt for more, just to distract himself enough to keep it together (instead of crying out so loudly he breaks every window in the joint). his bared hips are still rocking, now in time with dean's hand. ]

[ uncrosses his wrists from where they'd been hanging at dean's shoulderblades and drags the hand back, fingernails dragging over the exposed skin of his throat, down his shirtfront, and into the open fly of his jeans to reciprocate. ]

[drops down to press his open mouth against his shoulder at first touch, hips bucking against his hand and fingers fumbling their grip in his hair until he evens out enough to hook his chin at his shoulder. pulling his lip between his teeth to cull the ragged breaths and the string of cas cas cas, he shifts closer, bumping against cas' fingers and prying him away to take them both of them in hand and slide together, grip twisting a painful knot in his hair as he stutters a low broken groan]

[ 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. ]

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