63 notes
08:32 PM . 14 August 2013

based off of this post

pairing: destiel
word count: 761 
rating: porn-fluff-drabble

"Did you change the sheets last week?"

"I thought you did?"

The bed groans in protest, mattress rocking along with the motion of their bodies and rustling the sheets in question. They’re nondescript, off-white, and Cas had brought the set when he first moved in.

"No-" Dean grunts, rolls his hips forward slow and steady, just easing in and rolling back out just as lazily. His forearms are resting on each side of Castiel’s face, supporting his weight. "Thought it was your week."

"No, I-" Cas’ voice hitches, knees tilting further back and legs lifting higher to optimize the angle. "I vacuumed. Laundry was your turn."

"Well they’ll need to be washed now."

Dean earns a roll of Castiel’s eyes for that, effect somewhat subdued by the breathy gasp that follows the next thrust of his hips. They shift together, following each other’s lead and Dean helps Cas to hook one of his legs over his shoulder, the other pulled onto Dean’s arm, beneath Cas’ knee. Cas hums, arcs his back against the movement and presses for more. Lashes flutter as Dean settles over him, noses bumped together and breath mingled, only the sheets whispering around them.

Castiel’s eyes blink open. “Did you pick up ground beef from the store?”

"What?"

"For dinner tonight."

There’s some shuffling as Dean rises up again, enough so to get a good look at Cas. “It wasn’t on the list.” It wasn’t. That was the point of the list, too; so Dean wouldn’t forget shit and have to hear about it from Cas later.

"I told you- ah…before you walked out the door, remember?”

Despite the increase of Dean’s pace Castiel remains staring, awaiting a response.

"Oh." Dean’s knees dig into the mattress, allow for better leverage and the slap of his pelvis into Cas’ ass. A groan breaks its way past his lips. "We’ll go later."

From the nod of Cas’ head this seems to be an adequate answer, though Castiel does crane his head back and off to the side, fully exposing the long line of his neck and the curve of his jaw. He squints to read the clock upside-down before righting himself. “We should leave after we shower though. I wanted to stop by the Farmer’s Market too.”

The suggestion has Dean’s rhythm tapering off into a grind, one side of his face scrunching in dismay. “What do you need at the Farmer’s Market that you can’t get at a regular grocery store?” Farmer’s Markets were for granola hippies and Sam. There was a lot of overlap there.

"Fresh produce," Cas starts, though whatever else he has in mind falls short and succumbs to Dean snapping his hips, hard. Cas’ mouth is still parted in a little ‘o’ and his breath is growing ragged. "…produce and, and they might have pies…"

"Pie?"

"Pie."

But that’s where the train of thought ends, Cas biting into his lip, heel of his foot slipping on Dean’s shoulder. They slide together, friction hot between them and there’s some relief for the dull burn in Dean’s legs for rocking forward faster now, breaths coming in short pants only to be intercepted by the next thought.

"We should-" Dean grunts, braces a moment to get a better grip on Castiel’s leg still wrapped on his arm, "-get a movie. For later."

Whether Castiel is registering what he’s saying now Dean can’t tell. The flush blooming on Cas’ cheeks and spreading down the hollow of his neck distracts him from his purpose for a moment, the crease between the other man’s brows and the way Cas keeps trying to part his legs further only persuading him to pump his hips faster. Dean licks over the dryness of his lips.

"Or we could watch Poltergeist…" he ventures and takes hold of Castiel’s other leg, bends it down until Cas’ knee hits the mattress. He senses victory when Castiel takes a moment to gather himself.

Ah…only if…” A moan cuts in, Cas’ stomach clenching as he continues to chew his lip. “If you do the dishes after dinner.”

Which is a good enough compromise for Dean. “Yeah, yeah…” He can feel his toes itching to curl in, pleasure and heat pooling low in his stomach.

"And- and you do the laundry," Cas manages to get out before his legs are tensing, fingers clutching onto Dean’s back. His hips cant up and a noise akin to a whimper breaks from the back of Cas’ throat. "And-"

"Just stop talking," Dean mutters before doing Cas the favor of sealing their mouths together.

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    The one where they argue about chores during sex.
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