happy birthday, jensen.
to celebrate, I’m going to spend it sexually frustrated because your face. I hope you’ll agree this is an adequate present.
#I am weeping#because Cas #staring at him#watching him swallow#following the movement of his eyes#wanting nothing more than to trace his fingers over Dean’s jaw
Dean smiled nervously, calling upon the Angel of the Lord, Castiel, becoming a common thing, but still surpsingly nerveracking. Cas approached, mere inches from Dean, personal space still being a rather foreign concept to the angel. Dean’s lips turned back straight, swallowing down nothing but air as his mouth went desert dry. His eyes looked down to Cas’ lips, and then back up to ocean blue’s. Cas followed every movement, curiousity settling in his mind, his body inching forward of it’s own accord.
He looked closely at his charge, watching every movement, taking in every bit of stubble, every dot on his skin, his eyes olive as the stared back at him. He wondered what the jaw, felt like beneath his hands. If the small bit of hair would scratch his skin, if his cheekbones would feel sharp beneath his skin.
Dean’s body felt hot at the closeness of the two, his eyes watching every emotion passing through the angel. He was about to shove the man away, words to distance the pair, but instead of a small tease escaping his lips, instead of his body backing away, he inched closer as well, letting his lips fall to the angels.
By the end of the night, Cas had spent hours tracing that jawline, with hands, lips, and even a few other body parts.