Like Water, Like Rain
» Fandom: Supernatural
» Pairing(s): Jimmy Novak/Castiel
» Rating: M
» Classification(s)/Warning(s): Masterbation (kind of?) Vessels and their many uses, Mirrors, Smutlet
So jimmynovaks/askance asked for some fic, but Tumblr's eating asks. :( Ah, well, have some masturbatory Jimmy/Cas!
"So here's the thing I don't get," Jimmy says, absently trailing their fingers along the inside of their thigh. Teasing. "You know how to do this." Those fingers scratch lightly through the wiry hair at the base of their cock, framing, circling, never quite touching the erection that juts up from their lap, already flushed and wet at the tip. "I know you know.
"So, why," and here he spreads their thighs a little wider, meets Castiel's eyes in the mirror over the motel bed. He ghosts a finger up, over the hot aching skin to flick over the slit, making their hips jerk. He brings the finger to their lips, offering it to Castiel. "Why am I here?"
Castiel slides their mouth over their fingers, tonguing up the small bit of fluid. He sucks at the digits, a little sloppy and deliberately loud, knowing Jimmy likes the wet slide, the promise of heat, and doesn't answer him. Jimmy draws their hand away and mutters, "Slut." The word is coarsely sweet on their shared breath.
Jimmy uses both their hands now, their right leaving a slick, cooling trail down their chest to their cock, grip suddenly and shockingly tight, and Castiel stutters up into it while Jimmy slips their left lower, to cup and squeeze at the sack drawn taut underneath. Castiel arches back against the sheets and Jimmy's eyes are dark and heavy-lidded in the mirror, amused and aroused. "Castiel." Jimmy has never once called him Cas while they're like this. "Castiel, what do you want?"
Castiel keeps their mouth shut and instead rocks their hips into Jimmy's unhurried motions, trying to urge him into a faster rhythm. The slide is less gritty now, and precome makes it even more smooth, the slick wet sounds quieting as Jimmy slows, waiting for an answer. Castiel bites their lip as Jimmy rubs their thumb along the crown of their cock, nail scraping oh-so-lightly over the cluster of nerves at the bottom. He lets their head fall back and gasps his first word. "Please!"
"Please...?" Jimmy trails off, left hand sliding up the back of their thigh, catching at the knee and pulling it up to their chest. "What, Castiel?" He lets go of them entirely and instead knuckles stroke firmly into their perineum, fingers dragging further back, and their breath catches on high, strained moan. "Tell me what you want."
Fingertips flirt with the rim of him, circling, never quite touching even when Castiel makes a low sound of want and tries to move into them. "I want—" he starts, and Jimmy rewards him with a single finger, not nearly slick enough now but hot and unyielding, sinking into them up the first knuckle. "I want— I want you," he moans out, "to— touch me, I want you to f-fuck me, I want you, you—"
Two fingers, and Jimmy makes wordless soothing noises with the same voice Castiel cries out in. It's too much, this mutual space, this body that is both of theirs and neither's wholly. Jimmy knows it all too well, Castiel too little, and this, this is what Castiel wants— to feel like this, to surrender to it. To be lost in it.
"Jimmy," he tries to say, but Jimmy is already moving to give him what he's asking for—perhaps he knew what it was before Castiel even opened their mouth. Perhaps he knew even before Castiel sought him out, locked deep in the mind they share.
"Jimmy!" Hands, their hands, closed around him and thrusting in him and the peculiarly human rush of orgasm starts low in their belly, flares outwards as Jimmy's movements go rough and shaky and Castiel can't see Jimmy's eyes in the mirror because his own, their own, are squeezed shut against the force of it.
"Castiel," he breathes. "Castiel—"
This is what Castiel wants, and for a brief, searing second of bliss—
They are one.
Title is from a weirdly appropriate Celine Dion song.
DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT