lesbian sex that looks like a big cartoon ball of dust with the occasional leg sticking out and i crawl out of it covered in lipstick kisses and get swiftly dragged back in
i learned a while ago that the whole “most of the stars we see in the sky are actually already dead because they’re so far away that we’re seeing them as they were thousands of years ago” thing is a myth because stars live so long that it’s unlikely many, if any, of them have burned out yet, but i’m still glad that myth exists because there’s just something about the thought of the sky as a graveyard of stars that gets to me
It’s interesting because one day that will be true for some people in some planet out there, but we are so young, the universe is so young, that we live in a time when we get to see more stars born than we ever will see die. There’s poetry in looking up and seeing a star graveyard, but I think there’s also poetry in looking up and seeing a star nursery.
Like, momento mori but also momento vivere
we live in a time when we get to see more stars born than we ever will see die
Deanâs head was turned away when Castiel pushed the door open. And honestly, even if it wasnât, there hadnât been enough time for him to react. So he did nothing, just lay there on the covers of his bed, one arm casually under his head, the other resting on his stomach. Cas noticed the hand was rising and falling along with Deanâs breath. He stared for a while at the wide, strong palm with a little scar on the thumb and always clean and tidy cut nails. No matter what, wendigo in the woods or grave digging all night, Dean always took care of his hands. Cas liked that about him.
If asked, Sam would tell him, that this was part of the job hygiene, learned the hard way, and not without some casualties. But Castiel never thought of asking Sam.
So Castiel was busy watching Deanâs fingers, and it took him a while to realize, that he himself was being watched too. Deanâs gaze darkened, or maybe it was his face paling a little as he was looking straight into Casâ eyes. Something about his posture changed to less relaxed, fingers on his stomach were rising and falling slightly faster as his breath quickened.
That was when Castiel recalled that damn discussion theyâd been having from time to time. The concept of privacy, personal space, and all those things Castiel really didnât get and didnât bother to learn about. He hadnât knocked before walking in, so now he briefly closed his eyes and braced himself for yet another slightly annoyed speech. He didnât like being told off. On the other hand, he did enjoy observing Dean in those moments â looking so commanding and in charge, his back straight and voice firm. Castiel imagined him using this tone talking to misbehaving children if he had any. The angel had to make a conscious effort to suppress a smile. It wouldnât be appropriate in the current situation.
But this time Dean didnât say anything about privacy. In fact, he didnât say anything at all, still looking at Cas with anxious eyes as if expecting a blow. That was strange and unpleasant. Why would Dean think that Castiel might do anything like that to him? The angel frowned and took in a view of his lover in the dim light of his bedroom one more time. Lying on his back, not wearing much clothing except for his favorite old t-shirt and⊠And⊠Oh. That was something new.
At first, Castiel thought that the lingerie was simply too small for Dean. He needed a second to realize his mistake: it didnât look like anything he encountered in any male underwear drawer. They were pink panties, for ladies, with a little bow in the middle. That was interesting. Involuntarily, Castiel moved slightly forward to look closer at the shape the undergarment took on Deanâs body.
Audibly shaky breath made him pause. Dean was still looking at him, frozen, his gaze intense and somehow⊠scared. Castiel connected the dots. It was something about this underwear that made Dean so guarded. But why? He searched through information concerning human culture he had gathered over the years.
Humans were extremely sensitive when it came to their gender. Mistaking someoneâs sex for another was almost always offending and embarrassing. So maybe this was it. Castiel sighed. He would never understand what the fuss was all about. Male, female, something else, who cares? Plus, he clearly remembered wearing a female vessel some years before, and it was⊠nice. Soft and delicate in some parts and firm and powerful in others⊠Such a potential, though looking so fragile and light.
If this was what bothered Dean, Cas had to tell him⊠But Dean spoke first.
âI hope you donât mindâŠâ, he started but trailed off.
Cas was still studying the panties, which seemed to fill out in the meantime⊠Finally, his vesselâs hormonal system helped. After several moments of awkward silence, he realized that his breathing quickened as well, and it was uncomfortable wearing so many layers⊠Suddenly, without thinking about it, he knew what to do and what to say.
âNot at all.â He smiled and slowly licked his lips before adding, âWould you accept a little help withâŠâ He cut himself off, pointing to the object of interest.
Dean looked down at himself, then back up at Castiel and smiled. It was a genuine, slightly mischievous grin that was so rare on his face that Cas caught himself staring again. It made Dean look younger and less tired, and Cas swore to himself that he was going to bring it on Deanâs lips as often as possible.
Before Castiel was done thinking, Dean was up, closing the distance between them. He put his hands on Casâ shoulders and helped him shrug off his trench coat and jacket. Then he proceeded to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. Cas smelled Deanâs hair and put one finger under his chin to make him look up. Once their eyes met, the angel closed his lips around Deanâs mouth and slid both hands down his back to finally grab his buttocks and feel the panties that proved to be silky in touch. Slow circular movements resulted in Dean gasping into Castielâs mouth and pressing himself closer to his, now naked, chest. The angel hummed low and broke the kiss. Dean took in a gulp of air, and the sound of him exhaling against his ear sent shivers down Castielâs spine. Sliding his hands back up, under Deanâs t-shirt, the angel felt firm muscles and well-formed shoulder blades. He traced their shape with his fingertips, and it was Deanâs turn to tremble. When the t-shirt joined the shirt, tie, and jacket on the floor, Castiel made an attempt to remove the rest of his clothing. He had some difficulties with his belt, too distracted to remember how the damn thing worked. Then he felt Deanâs fingers on his hands, and for a moment he forgot about breathing, hearing only the rush of his blood and seeing dark dots before his eyes.
When he recovered somewhat, he felt fabric sliding down his thighs and a carnal sense of freedom. Dean hummed approvingly and murmured into his ear, following the pattern Castiel set:
âI will be happy to help you as well.â
Hearing a playful smirk in his voice, Cas pushed Dean onto the nearest wall and busied himself kissing every inch of his neck, feeling the heat of a human body and those manicured fingernails scratching his back.
After a while, Dean opened his eyes and cupped Castielâs face in both hands. His kiss was firm and steady. As was his body when he turned around nimbly in Castielâs arms, pressing his back against the angelâs chest and resting his cheek on the wall. He glanced at Cas over his arm, waiting. Castiel sobered immediately.
âDean⊠you sureâŠ?â
âSure.â Came the firm answer promptly. âWould youâŠâ
I want an ice maker and enough room in the freezer for a pizza and that is IT.
I want the dumbest fridge you got. Gimme the orange tabby of refrigeration. I want my fridge to pull the wrong lever and turn my enemies into llamas instead of killing them. I want the following features: keeps things cold, has compartment that keeps things colder, a door that opens and shuts.
âHere at Stupid Jeffâs Dumb Appliance Warehouse we sell the dumbest fucking appliances. Check out this fridge. This fridge wonât ask you about your day, this dumb fucking fridge doesnât know what an Elon Musk is and wonât fucking tell you what bullshit that dumb monkey is slapping into his phone today when you try to get some fucking milk. We took out all those "smartâ electronics and in their place we put a loaded Glock 9mm that is put right up to that light that turns on when you open the door, which is the smartest thing in this fucking stupid fridge and let me tell you that fucker is on thin goddamn ice, if it gets too smart and tries to turn on before you open that door, the Glock will blow it to hell. Speaking of ice, this stupid fridge makes it. It makes ice, it keeps things cold, it comes with shelves. Itâs sturdy enough that when your ex comes back to your place looking for their stuff that they think they left behind like nine months ago and they know that you donât have it, but they wanted an excuse to come start a fight with you and throw a chair at your head but miss you and hit your fridge MICHAEL, this fridge will keep trucking because it gives zero shits and it only lives to keep things cold. Come to Stupid Jeffâs Dumb Appliance Warehouse, if you ask us if we have an app, we break your kneecaps.â
