[ castiel really wouldn't mind. of course, there's no way for dean to know that these were donated, or that his own clothes were stolen from him. they're loose on his hips and pull easy, though he has to drop his leg to shimmy the rest of the way free in an awkward, clumsy rush which would have landed him on his ass if not for the wall at his back.
castiel lets go of a nervous huff of laughter.
for a moment, he's self conscious— he knows he isn't much to look at, and what's between his legs is even less impressive. but then he catches another whiff of dean in the back of his throat and blessedly forgets all about himself. he grabs for dean's shoulder and hikes his leg again, determined to hook it over dean's hip. a bead of sweat trickles down between his shoulder blades. ]
no subject
castiel lets go of a nervous huff of laughter.
for a moment, he's self conscious— he knows he isn't much to look at, and what's between his legs is even less impressive. but then he catches another whiff of dean in the back of his throat and blessedly forgets all about himself. he grabs for dean's shoulder and hikes his leg again, determined to hook it over dean's hip. a bead of sweat trickles down between his shoulder blades. ]
C'mon— Don't. Don't hold back.