Every Version of Me Loves Every Version of You
He wanted to nibble every inch of him--
Nnngh, after. After. “Fuck, Cas.” Round two? Maybe?
Or, Cas and Dean have a kinky one-night (or, rather, afternoon) stand, but Cas is gorgeous and amazing and Dean already feels like this is something different.
“Can I dance with you?” he tries to ask over the pounding music, but he’s so fucking dumbstruck it doesn’t come out even close to loud enough. Blue eyes tilt, studying him, and then the guy comes intimately close, putting his ear to Dean’s lips to hear him better, a waft of musk he somehow recognizes as witch hazel tantalizing Dean’s nose, until he swears silently, dragging in another breath like a fucking creeper and swallowing the urge to put his lips on that pierced lobe. “Can I dance with you?” he repeats.
Blue Eyes leans back, appraising him. Though his lips have barely moved they still, somehow, hint at a smirk that makes Dean want to whimper. Or drop to his knees.
Black painted fingernails ghost up his chest, wind around his neck, draw his body flush with abs and hip bones and--fuck--a half hard cock through slick leather against his groin. He can feel himself twitch in his pants, and he fucking hopes this guy couldn’t feel that too. He puts his lips to Dean’s ear and breathes one word, "Yes."
Or, Dean sees Cas dancing in a club and has never wanted anyone so much. Fortunately, Cas seems to feel the same way. The only question is... will Dean survive?