[ It's pathetic, he thinks, the way he's reacting. He should pull back, laugh it off, clap Cas on the shoulder and say it's sure good to see you, man.
But that isn't what happens. That isn't what he wants to do. Hell with what he should do, or what his brain thinks he should do, or what the voice of his father that still lingers in the back of his head says he should do.
Dean's doing what he wants to do, and what he wants to do is devour Cas right here in the sunlight room, clutch him tightly, mash himself up against Cas' broad frame, shove him up against the railing of the bridge, taste him, feel him, yank his shirt free from where it's tucked into his slacks and shove his hands up and under, grip warm skin under calloused fingers.
So that's what he does, he follows his heart, lets himself take and taste because Cas is letting him, Cas is returning it, opening his mouth under Dean's, as eager and wild as Dean is, desperation mingled with need and want and reunion.
Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Dean's emotional, he can feel it welling in his chest, a choked sob that will humiliate him if it breaks free so he swallows it down, kisses Cas until he can't breathe anymore, clutches him close, fingers dimpling skin. He can't stop his eyes from welling up, Dean's an emotional man, but if he keeps them closed and keeps taking and taking, then Cas won't see, wont see how weak Dean is, how lost he's been, how far down the hole he's been spiraling. ]
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But that isn't what happens. That isn't what he wants to do. Hell with what he should do, or what his brain thinks he should do, or what the voice of his father that still lingers in the back of his head says he should do.
Dean's doing what he wants to do, and what he wants to do is devour Cas right here in the sunlight room, clutch him tightly, mash himself up against Cas' broad frame, shove him up against the railing of the bridge, taste him, feel him, yank his shirt free from where it's tucked into his slacks and shove his hands up and under, grip warm skin under calloused fingers.
So that's what he does, he follows his heart, lets himself take and taste because Cas is letting him, Cas is returning it, opening his mouth under Dean's, as eager and wild as Dean is, desperation mingled with need and want and reunion.
Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Dean's emotional, he can feel it welling in his chest, a choked sob that will humiliate him if it breaks free so he swallows it down, kisses Cas until he can't breathe anymore, clutches him close, fingers dimpling skin. He can't stop his eyes from welling up, Dean's an emotional man, but if he keeps them closed and keeps taking and taking, then Cas won't see, wont see how weak Dean is, how lost he's been, how far down the hole he's been spiraling. ]