He was still breathing heavily, muscles weak and nerves buzzing from the orgasm that had flashed through him like a literal slice of heaven. Heaven incarnate was how he got this way, and it was who was looking down at him with a huge smile of satisfaction.
“I like making you feel this way,” Cas whispered, punctuating every word with a brush of his lips to Dean’s skin, picking out a path through his freckles; his cheekbone, along the line of his clavicle, his hip. “It makes me…” Cas paused to lift Dean’s knee and kiss the inside. “…happy.”
Dean threw his arm across his eyes, hiding the attempt at an eyeroll that was more out of habit than a true reflection of how he felt about Cas; but those full lips pressed to the bend of his thigh and groin, his tongue tracing the taste of them that had spilled across Dean’s skin, and Dean pressed his arm harder harder against his eyes, seeing spots of bright, white light as Cas’ mouth gently took him.
The knock on his door was so quiet that it was almost lost in Brad’s heartbeat; he clicked the magazine into his gun with the heel of his hand and turned the knob.
“Hi,” Nate said simply, and Brad took the sight of him in like a ghost from the dead, one that he’d seen in his dreams night after night; but Nate’s chest rose and fell with his breaths, and new lines around his eyes deepened as he smiled at Brad.
Fuck hi, Brad thought, but it never made it to his lips as Nate’s crashed down upon his, Brad’s gun forgotten on the carpet as Nate pushed him into the hotel room and kicked shut the door. Brad’s fingers wrapped around Nate’s shoulder holster and pulled him closer, taking in every bit of evidence to make sure this was real: Nate’s lips too dry, Nate’s ribs too prominent, Nate’s eyes still so hauntingly green.
His chest tightened when Nate ran his mouth across to Brad’s ear and whispered, “I couldn’t stay away.”
“Did you know I discovered a new element today?” Tony sidled up to Bruce at the bench and waggled his eyebrows.
“Ooh,” Bruce cooed, Tony’s eyes following his full lips as they puckered around the sound. “Tell me more about how you’re the world’s best at everything.” The snark was laced with affection as always.
Bruce spun on his stool, spreading his thighs and pulling Tony toward him by the front of his shirt; Tony’s hand immediately wound its way beneath Bruce’s labcoat.
“I was thinking about naming it Viridisium since the Latin word for green is—”
Bruce cut off Tony’s overly sweet words by shifting his hips and giving Tony a better grip on his (not currently green) cock; his tongue swept across Tony’s and science took a temporary backseat to other kinds of new discoveries.
She pushed her glasses up her nose and nodded at Peter’s excessively detailed and enthusiastic description of the experiment; wow, she was so… wow, with her lips and her… wow. He didn’t realize he had lost his train of thought and was staring until she reached over with a finger to close his gaping mouth.
“Jane said what you work on is cool, but she didn’t mention how cute you are,” Darcy said, putting down her lab notebook and looking up at Peter through her eyelashes, biting at the corner of her lip in a way that further scrambled Peter’s brain.
“Um,” was all that he managed before she pressed against him and licked into his mouth with an aggressiveness that had him melting into her touch.
“Listen, erm, well, I was just going to say sorry. For earlier. About how I insinuated you aren’t homesick. Yes, so… yes, sorry,” Bilbo said, blushing to the roots of his hair and fiddling with his pipe with nervous fingers.
“I tol’ ya’ that it’s alright,” Bofur said quietly, a smile on his face when he used one large hand to palm the back of Bilbo’s head and pull him into a hug, this one less bone-crushing than tender. His meaty fingers wound into Bilbo’s wavy hair, tugging his head back so he could brush a slow kiss across his mouth, the taste of Shire leaf across Bilbo’s lips and tongue.
“Oh. I see,” Bilbo breathed. “Well then,” he said as he pushed his hands into Bofur’s hair as well, pulling him down sharply for a hungry kiss, those nervous fingers flitting their way down Bofur’s neck, broad back, and pleasantly round arse… and perhaps, for a few satisfying moments, they’d both find a home away from home.
AU
“Ain’t ya got no apron? Kind a’ cook ain’t got no apron? You tryin’ t’ set yerself on fire?”
Trombley blanched, looking horrified at the mistake. “I got an apron. I just—” Now he blushed, the color rushing up to his hairline and down his neck to below his collar.
“Spit it out,” Sixta said, leaning around James to put a finger into the pot on the stove, tasting the sauce and clearly noting that Trombley’s eyes followed the motion of his tongue across his fingertip.
“I thought… fuck, I thought that it wouldn’t look right with my clothes and I wanted everything to look right tonight,” he mumbled, reaching behind the pantry door for the hook with the apron on it.
Sixta pulled him back and guided him by the hips to the edge of the counter; he leaned up and placed a solid, warm kiss on Trombley’s mouth. “Y’ does look good,” he said softly, “And that there is better’n my mama’s cookin’… Thinks it’ll keep if we turn the burner off and has ourselves some dessert first?”
Power they understand — power and struggle and war — and sex has always been just another front on that endless battle for dominance, but this is something entirely different, a universe unexplored. Just the movement of lips on lips — Michael’s on Lucifer’s, at first too hard, with Gabriel coaching them both to lay off, to just feel and not try to take or force — and when it clicks, when they’re finally just kissing, a wash of pleasure roils through them unlike anything they’ve ever experienced. It’s just sensation, just allowing each other to feel and explore, and Michael pauses, his lips parted and wet, and turns to Gabriel to ask, “Is this surrender?”
“Does it feel like surrender?” Gabriel replies, lips upturned, and he purses them to let Michael lean in and explore.
This time he’s in control, Gabriel endlessly giving, and when Michael stops, after soft swipes of tongue and the nuzzling of their bottom lips together, he shakes his head; there’s no victory or surrender here, no win or loss, and he holds Lucifer’s hand, guides him close to Gabriel’s mouth, and finds watching the two of them kiss is just as beautiful and alien a sensation.
They were jumping up and down, yelling in the middle of Evan’s living room — the Giants just got a safety in the last second of play, totally kicking the ass of the Dolphins (because anyone from Tampa has to hate the Dolphins) — when John did it. It was pretty fucking stupid; I mean, who the fuck tries to kiss someone while they’re jumping? Evan just looked at him, and then muted the tv; the blank stare went on long enough that John turned to grab his coat and head for the door.
Evan’s hand closed around his wrist, spinning him back like a motherfucking fairy princess into a kiss, a real one without any jumping… unless you counted John’s heartrate; he felt his blood pulsing everywhere.
Lips wet, Evan stepped away, hand still on John’s wrist, tugging him down the hallway toward his room. “Yo, I’m stoked about the win too, but…” he said with his lopsided smile.
“You know you want me baby, you know I want you too. They call me superman, I’m here to rescue you,” Q-Tip rapped, and John joined in until they were yelling it at the sky at the top of their lungs. Q-Tip grabbed John’s wrist, pumping it to the beat, and John felt the touch rocket through his chest, down to his dick; Q-Tip didn’t even know what he was doin’ to him. John abruptly stopped singing and leaned in involuntarily.
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” John said at Q-Tip’s surprised face, pulling back and feeling the blush rise in his cheeks; what the absolute fuck had he been thinking… he hadn’t been thinking, he’d just been going on hormones and instinct and 5000 miles away from good pussy.
“Nah, dude. It’s all good,” Q-Tip replied quietly, hooking a hand behind John’s neck and pulling him into a kiss.
“Spot me, Pap,” Rudy said, laying back on the bench, shirtless as always. His arms bulged as he lifted the dumbbells, the focus of his eyes going from the weights to Pappy’s eyes. “Something wrong, my brother?”
“Uh… no. Ain’t nothing wrong,” Pappy said softly, feeling color rise in his cheeks; it was hard to ignore the fact that his groin was right near Rudy’s head If he just leaned his head back off the end of the bench…
“You’re looking a little pink,” Rudy exhaled, pushing the weights up again, brushing against Pappy’s hands where he was spotting the lift. “Should I go get the sunscreen? I can fix you up.”
Pappy sighed and grabbed dumbbells on the next upswing, halting their motion so he could lean down between Rudy’s arms and take what he’d been wanting.
