& ; spookofapie.
« ———— ├ ᗪ ╰☆╮ ᙡ ┤———— »
( dean winchester is a concourse of timelines, of rife white nights spent flashing a pretty smile to the barrister that winds him in a cheap offer for a beer & barefaced laments behind dustbins at the backdoor. he’s not a pig tailed girl or chin buttoned first timer in a sea of temptations. he is not the embodiment of someone to woo. in these kinds of games, dean is the player. therefore, he deciphers signs, but this is way past signs already — he witnesses the boy droop on his feet, a shameless forwardness that leaves dean in an agape stare for a moment, pleasing his regard with his lips, hands & scorching figure & a gesture of finality when he pilfers the brunet’s hand, lugging him past the chamber to the exit. this isn’t about him — oh, no. dean’s a slow flame to ignite, yet sure to follow the path, he feels a nearly PERSONAL must to furnish this yet stranger’s a i d for his pressuring issue & if the only way his insatiable ( & tough to explain ) magnetism can be pleased is on the hood of his car in a backdoor alley … he’ll actually be strangely okay with that. )
( so he is SILENT & he knows there is no predictability behind the throbbing instincts overtaking one’s body & when he shoves the door open & sights the car’s fitted shape in the narrow alley, he drops the grip on the other’s hand & quite honestly expects any- thing. moreover, he ENCOURAGES it, because when his digits draw back to his shape, he trails them teasingly over his hard-on. )
‘ go on, babe. take what you want an’ i’ll give what you need. ’
( BOY —— he’s nearly purring. )
[ At first, Stiles thought that Dean was going to take him somewhere that involved a bed, but instead, the older male took his hand, which actually made his stomach knot, & lead him to what Stiles assumed to be his car. Stiles Stilinski, who happened to be a v i r g i n, flipped in nerves. He stared up at Dean for a moment, clearing his throat that, all of a sudden, looked like it has been dry for years. His e a r l i e r confidence was obviously dying. But that's when Dean trails his fingers over his hard-on & blurts out the word babe, that Stiles realised just how hard he was, as well. The longer he thought about actually going through all the way with it, the tenser his abdominal muscles got. Sure, he was nervous about what the green eyed male was offering, b u t, after all, he WANTED that, he wanted him. & he will prove it. ]
[ Stiles took a few steps closer to the male & grabbed him by his waist, pulling him closer until their noses were touching each other ---- the younger male waited, desire was pooling low in his gut & everything remotely sexual in him was begging him to go with it, & so he did it. Stiles held on tight the other male's waist before his lips were on his, urgently. His hand moved to the back of Dean's neck possessively as he pulled him impossibly closer, tilting his head to the side to kiss him deeply. His tongue broke the seam of his lips & explored his mouth, diving in w i t h o u t mercy. Stiles' hands fidgeted with his shirt, managing to unbutton it while his mouth resisted unlatching from Dean's. His hands slipped into his open shirt & travelled around his hot skin. The teen moved his hips closer to the man's & he felt his aching erection rubbing lightly over his. He shivered with a groan & kissed him harder. His fingers were now moving toward his waistband, searching for Dean's zipper. He managed to undone it. & once he did it --- he pulled away s l i g h t l y, their mouths still touching. ]
❛ my name's stiles. ❜
