June 2, 2024 | Destiel the Rebus

 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐬. 𝐓𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐣𝐢. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐛𝐜𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 Cass Inger 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐦

Our bond is different from anything I’ve ever known. I can’t explain why. I’ve tried, but the words aren’t right. They fall on deaf ears. I have to show you. I have to prove it. That’s why, one night, you wake up tied to my 🛏. The ropes are, miraculously, strong enough to hold you. I was considerate. I put sweat bands on your wrists and ankles before tying you to the 🛏. At first, I only wanted to sleep next to you, to feel the warmth of you beside me. My head was rested against the bare skin of your chest. My hands explored your body experimentally. Not like yours is that much different, but it’s better somehow because it belongs to you. I’ve wondered when you’ll deign to share it with me. Sometimes, you make it sound as though you will. You make oblique statements that could be taken as advances. But when I make a move, you freeze. It’s frustrating. It’s more than frustrating, but that’s venturing into chick flick territory. I won’t go there. Not now.

You stir. You immediately notice I’ve tied you up. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you. My face is a mask, but if you look deep enough into my eyes, you’ll see it, the longing, what some might call frustration and others devastation. Will you? Look deep enough?

You don’t struggle as much as I would have expected. You look resigned, actually. Maybe you expected this. I lean over and trap your face between my hand and my lips. Are you turning your head away or nestling into my touch? It’s hard to tell. The slight motion of your head sparks a sense of desire in me. I kiss your cheek again, then turn your face towards me to kiss your lips. You kiss me back after a moment, and I grip into your hair, tugging to punish you for hesitating. After all we’ve done for each other, after how far we’ve come, you should 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 this. You alone dragged me out of Hell. The memories will never fade, but being by your side makes them more bearable. There are things you want to forget, too. You let things slip when we get drunk together. You tell me everything I’ve wanted to hear and more, of your own volition. 𝘐𝘯 𝘣𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘴. In the morning, when you sober up, you seemingly remember none of it, and I don’t bring it up. Maybe you’re not surprised right now because you 𝘥𝘰 remember your whispers in the dark. Your hesitation chips away until your teeth have sunk into my lip. I moan at the sharp bite. You echo me as the coppery flavor caresses the tip of your tongue. I’m making it easy for you to kiss me back. I’ve climbed astride you, supporting my weight on my forearms as I lean over you, my head dipped down so you don’t have to strain your shoulders stretching up to kiss me back.

Heaven isn’t a dimension we go to when we die. Heaven, 𝘮𝘺 Heaven, is between your 💋s.

I want more. I can’t get enough of you. I break the kiss, registering with delight your little moan of hunger and disappointment. Don’t worry. I’m not letting you go. I kiss your neck, then su¢k the flesh, almost like a vampire. My hand was still tangled in your hair, but I move it down to caress your cheek. This time there’s no mistaking it. You nuzzle into my touch. Elation soars through me like an eagle. I 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦. I su¢k on the divine flesh of your neck more feverishly and my body moves sinuously against yours. You moan my name, the lilting song I’ve always craved to hear from you. Moving down to your shoulder, my kisses grow sloppier, less controlled. I bite you harder, hard enough to bruise but not quite breaking skin. In the back of my mind, I dimly wonder if I’m hurting you. It’s enough to pause and look up at you. Your face is scrunched. I ask if you’re okay and you nod, panting breathlessly.

I kiss, more gently, down to your chest. I leave a trail of h𝔦ckeys down your chest and stomach. I admire your body and I want to mark it as my own. The way you arch up against me, the sounds you make as you’re squirming against your bonds—! Your body is a symphony and I am its conductor. I feel powerful, having you at my mercy like this. It’s a power I must wield responsibly. I don’t want to hurt you any more than it takes to bring you the ultimate pleasure.

My 💋s brush over your turgid, waiting 🐓 and my eyes flick up to meet yours. I want so badly to read desire in them. I can’t bear to look for long. I take your 🏐s in hand, admiring how you keep them groomed. I thumb one to see your reaction and close my 👄 over the other. I su¢k it in, reveling in the sounds that issue from your throat, sweeter than sugar. You have all but become my sugar. My love for you is poison running through my veins and sometimes, I want to 🩸 it out, to dig and dig and rip out every vein and artery. If I’m ☠, I don’t have to bear the agony of being unable to summon you with a prayer. Going back to Hell would be a vacation in comparison.

I taste your sweat, breathe in your scent, release one and su¢k the other. Maybe you don’t taste sweet—you’d have to be diabetic—but you are just as addictive as sugar. Being with you chases away my personal demons. I wonder how long I’ll be able to pleᴀsure you before you melt in my 👄. My 👄 waters at the thought. I pull back and thumb the saliva coating more or less evenly over your 🏐s. The sight of your 🐓 twitching in anticipation, the pleading sounds of your whimpers and moans, watching you 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦 like that—it all brings a smile to my face. Su¢king your 🐓 is the easiest thing in the world, easier by far than telling you how I feel, because the pressure of my 👄 around your tenderest organ, I can all but guarantee is wanted.

You have no choice but to allow me to take time settling into an optimal position. I pull back to tease you with my 👅 every so often. I love the way you whine and bu¢k up, but my hand curls around your 🏐s in warning. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘺? Panting heavily, you let your hips drop back into the soft mattress. I twist my 👅 over the head of your 🐓, firmly holding down your hip with one hand and massaging your 🏐s with the other. I take my time, drawing it out, torturing you with my worship. My eyes ask questions my 👄 wouldn’t dare. My 💋 and 👅 say all that I can’t put into words.

I didn’t bring you here to hook up or have a little fun. I brought you here to make 💜 to you, fully and completely. You’re the one I think about at night. Sure, I get drunk and fuck around sometimes; takes the edge off when you either don’t understand my advances or play dumb about them. If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with, right?

It’d be pretty hard for you to play dumb 𝘯𝘰𝘸. Not with your body quivering like this. I taste your hard-won release and feel a sense of victory. Finally, I’ve brought you to your 🗻. I su¢k harder, more insistently, dr𝔦nk𝔦ng the last of it out of you like a starving man in the desert. You, and you alone, are my oasis.

I wait for the last of the tension to drain from your body. I wait to see you relax into the memory foam, smirking. I hope you don’t think I’m done with you. I slide both hands under your 🍑 and lift slightly, spreᴀding your cheeks with my thumbs. This, I’ve never done before, but I want to experience every part of you. I tease your puckered 🍩 with the tip of my 👅. Part of me wonders if I should have brought a dentᴀl dᴀm, but I don’t want there to be any barriers between us. I lick your entrᴀnce more boldly, using your noises and the various tensions of your body as a guide. I dart my 👅 𝔦ns𝔦de and feel your muscles react to the 𝔦ntrus𝔦on. If that’s how you react to just my 👅, I wonder how your vise-like 🍩 will react to my 🐓? It twitches at the idea. It’s already so hard that if I smacked a car door with it, the door would break. I want to ®ut against something, but I don’t let myself. This is about you, and my every th®ust should be reserved for you alone. I focus on flexing my 👅 and pressing it against every millimeter of your walls. I’m rewarded with your helpless, mewling moans. Fu¢king you with my 👅 is more gratifying than I thought it would be.

When my 🏐s are aching fit to burst, when I’m sure I’ll go crazy if my di¢k doesn’t touch something, I pull back. I pick up a bottle of booze from the floor next to where I was kneeling and swish the contents in my mouth, then I stand. I spreᴀd your cheeks again, kneading your 🍑 affectionately. Then I plunge my pre💦-dappled head into your saliva-coated entrᴀnce. My head falls back and my eyes roll up in unadulterated pleᴀsure.

“𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬, baby,” I groan, my voice absolutely guttural with lust. I 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 be gentle with you, your perfect body too precious to mar, but pure animal instinct takes over. I need to 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 you, be all-encompassed by you, be 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 by you. I need desire to consume you the same way thoughts of you have consumed me since the moment you dragged me out of Hell. You alone are my Heaven and I need more than anything to be yours. I trust that I can untie your ankles now. I massage them before kneeling on the 🛏 and pulling your 🦵s up over my shoulders so you pull me in deeᴘ as I can go. Your body is trembling, you’re exhausted but still so needy, and I’m taking full advantage. I feed on your need for the sensations I’m giving you. I indulge in my own need to be as close to you as possible, testing your flexibility as I lower myself slowly, pressing down so we’re chest-to-chest. Our hearts beat in sync. My 𝚖𝚘𝚊𝚗𝚜 echo yours, full-throated and so 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺. Now that I’m f𝔦ll𝔦ng you, you can’t get enough of me either. I can’t resist the urge to bite your beautiful throat, the side I hadn’t marked up yet. You’ll remember this night every time you look in the mirror, at least for a little while. Your newfound humanity has some perks after all.

You strain against the bonds. You want me to free your arms so you can hold me? I can do that. I kneel up, freeing your ankles from my shoulders, and untie one wrist. I massage the feeling back into your arm, then do the same to your other. I press myself down so we’re chest-to-chest again, as much as we can be with you 🌈ing your back like that, and you wrap your 🦵s around me, clinging with all your might, and I love you even more for it. I push as deep 𝔦nto you as I can and stay there for a few beats, letting you ¢len¢h around me until you get impatient and start bu¢king your hips, signaling me to start moving again, and how can I deny you anything when you’ve been 𝘴𝘰 good for me? I reach behind my back to unlock your ankles so I have a range of motion again. You hold me close. We kiss sloppily as we move together, a symphony of synchronicity. You breathe out my name as the kiss breaks and I spill my sєєd, my heart, and my soul into you. I lay with you for the ecstatic aftershock, silent except for our mingled breathing. After I’ve fully softened, I slowly draw back from you, gratified at how reluctant you are to let me go. When my feet touch the ground, I stretch, then scoop you up into my arms and carry you to the shower to clean us both. Watching you perform your holy ablution is enough to get me going again, but we’re both tired. I compromise: Once we’re both clean and toweled off, I lead you back to 🛏. I sit up with my back against the wall and beckon you to come forth and sit in my lap. I apply enough lubri¢ant to make it comfortable for you to sᴘear yourself on me. You’re going to be sore in the morning. I think about that as I hold you close, stroke your hair, and praise you. Sweetheart, you were 𝘴𝘰 good for me tonight, and I couldn’t possibly be more elated. Finally, you understand. Finally, you accept me. I can even imagine that you might love me back, if only in these stolen moments, stolen nights.

Like sugar, you are my sweet addiction and I’ll never get enough. Next time, I won’t be so gentle or so careful. Next time, you’ll love it even more. I want to be your addiction, too. I want you to think of me with longing and feel what I feel. I won’t be careless with you. I don’t want to be poison or the ☠ of you, only to add some more sweetness to your life.

𝙎𝙚𝙚?