“No.” Or maybe. He wasn’t actually sure of anything right now. Having Cas this close, all wet and stark naked, was fucking disorienting.
“So, maybe you meant for me to have this one.”
Cas was pushing him, testing his boundaries. Jonah deserved that much, he knew. But when Cas started to take a step back with the mug of coffee still in his hand, Jonah caught him by the elbow, then ran his hand along that naked path to grasp his throat and stall his retreat.
Cas flinched slightly, breath catching, before he tilted his neck under Jonah’s grip.
Jonah splayed his fingers wide over the skull. Hours of work had gone into that. He imagined Cas lying in the chair, head angled just so. “How’d you stay still for so long?”
“You probably don’t want to know.” Cas’s lips barely moved. In fact, all of him was quite still. Except for the wild tempo of his pulse under Jonah’s thumb and the hot rush of his breath over Jonah’s skin.
He didn’t even move at first when Jonah kissed him. His mouth was slack and soft, and his lips parted beneath the brush of Jonah’s, like a dreamy afterthought. He let out a soft hum of sound that vibrated against Jonah’s mouth, spurring a deep, primal hunger. Tightening his grip on Cas’s throat, Jonah let his thumb wander along that warm stretch of skin, forcing Cas’s mouth wider until Cas’s tongue slid over his. Christ, everything about Cas was smooth and perfect. His skin, the way he melted into the kiss, his body inching closer to Jonah’s until he could feel his body heat and drops of water from the ends of his hair. His dick.
Jonah lost track of time, of their surroundings. Everything was wet skin and soap, the glide of their tongues and the soft, wet sounds of their kiss. Jonah could’ve done it for hours.
A second later, he flinched back with a hiss.
“Shit, sorry!” Cas righted the mug with a quiet laugh as Jonah rubbed a hand over the coffee running down his bicep.
“No, it’s—” Jonah waved off the apology, shaking his head as he oriented himself. In the bathroom with a naked Cas, who in the span of forty-eight hours he’d both spanked and kissed.
Jonah took a step backward, skirting the door frame at the last minute as he ticked his chin toward the coffee. “There’s more milk and sugar in the kitchen. You can fix another cup if you want. Do it how you like it.” Jesus. He wondered if he was capable of saying anything that wasn’t blazingly obvious and redundant as he turned around and strode into the kitchen, dick bobbing painfully until he trapped it behind the waistband of his sweatpants.
At the sink, he rinsed a couple of dishes, acutely aware of Cas’s approach a few minutes later and feeling him sneak sidelong glances while pouring a fresh cup of coffee. The towel was back around Cas’s waist. Jonah tried not to think that was a damn shame.
He’d put milk and sugar out, and he turned the faucet off and leaned against the counter, watching Cas heap enough sugar in his mug to stand a spoon in. Then he hopped up on the counter with a wince.
“Caref—”
“I’ve got it.” Cas glanced down at the staples then stirred the milky sludge in his mug slowly. “What was that back there? Another apology in the making?” He kept his eyes on the spoon.
There was a faint red spot on his throat where Jonah’s thumb had been, and Jonah felt a sudden surge of desire at the idea of seeing his thumbprint permanently inked there.
Everything about Cas made him conflicted. Desire warred with his own fucked up sense of duty. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. Or for you to feel that you have to do things because—” Jonah bit off the rest of the sentence and glowered as Cas started laughing.
“Are you serious right now?Thisis when you grow a conscience? Not, say, when you’re slitting someone’s throat or putting a bullet in their head or disemboweling them?”
“I’ve never disemboweled someone. I’m not Hannibal fucking Lecter.”
Cas snorted. “A guy like Lecter would bust a nut to spend a half hour with you, I’ll bet.” He rested the spoon on the top of his thigh and made a happy sound as he took a sip of his coffee. “Perfect,” he declared, then set the mug down. Resting back on his palms, he met Jonah’s gaze. “I don’t feel like that with you. I’ve never—” He waved a hand. “You know what? No. That’s a bullshit excuse. You want me.”
“Do I?” The air between them felt sticky with tension, and Jonah couldn’t even force a lie past his teeth. When he took a step closer, Cas nodded, picked up the spoon, and sucked it clean as he spread his legs wider. His thighs tightened around Jonah when he closed in.
Jonah stole the spoon, twisting it in his fingers before dragging the rounded bowl lightly along the expanse of Cas’s collar bone then down across a nipple that hardened immediately under the cool steel.
Cas exhaled a shuddery breath, goosebumps erupting over his skin as Jonah glided the utensil down his abdomen, avoiding the staples as he carefully mapped every hill and valley. “Fuck. That feels weirdly good. Don’t stop.”
“I can’t,” Jonah admitted. It seemed pointless to deny when he couldn’t stop staring and when his dick was clearly trying to bust free of his sweats.
Cas tugged at the knot around his waist, tugging the towel open. His hard cock twitched as Jonah trailed the spoon over the top of his thigh, and he moaned, arching his back when Jonah dragged it up the side of his shaft and circled it around his crown, smearing the glaze of precum beaded on his slit.
Jonah’s vision went blurry as the blood drained from his head and throbbed through his cock. He lifted the spoon to his lips, sucking the taste of Cas from it while he watched, eyes widening. Then he flung the utensil into the sink and grasped Cas by the hips, yanking him to the edge of the counter. Casmmphedas their mouths met in a violent clash while Jonah fumbled one hand through the nearby cabinet.
“You’d better not be getting out a fucking spatula,” Cas warned, voice strained, and Jonah chuckled in the midst of kissing down his throat.
“I’m saving that one.” He thumbed the bottle of olive oil open and straightened.
Cas eyed the bottle with a smirk. “Wow. Starting to worry that mentioning Hannibal Lecter gave you some really bad ideas. You should know that I’m no filet mignon, and I will definitely—” He yelped, then sucked in a sibilant breath, as Jonah doused his dick with the oil and fisted his shaft. “Oh,shit.”
