[ castiel is waiting there when the other man arrives, leaning against the far wall next to the paper towel dispenser, arms crossed over his chest. his eyebrow quirks when he's addressed, and he tips his head to indicate the stall farthest back. ]
That's fine.
[ he's never done this before and has no way of knowing what might be considered customary, but the concept in itself seems to contain all the instructions he needs to follow. with one last glance, he turns and slips into the stall, leaving it ajar as he hangs his long tan coat on the rack.
[Logan watches this through narrow eyes. Not cruel. Just discerning. This clean cut sort of fellow, putting his coat up like he's stepping into the office, paints a certain kind of picture of himself. Whether or not he intends to though, that could recolour the whole impression of him.
He unbuckles as he follows into the stall. Unconcerned about the way they're immediately crowding each other when he shuts the door behind him. At this distance though there's nothing he doesn't miss about the scent of this guy and that thought brings back that discerning look.]
[ castiel doesn't mind the examination, doesn't even seem to notice it happening while his coat is being hung, but he meets those eyes the moment he's stepped back to make room for the other man, staring in a way that most find unnerving. he's shorter than castiel by just a little, but much broader, with considerable muscle mass that makes the averageness of his vessel look slight by comparison.
there's hardly enough room for him to turn around. but although it's confining, it's not claustrophobic. his lips part, and he breathes in the heat radiating from his body. the intensity of his own gaze is marked by the twitch of his eyebrows when he's immediately caught out. ]
No, I'm not.
[ he says it so matter-of-factly that it's obvious this is a question he's had to answer before. in any case, he's already breaking eye contact. turning his back to logan by the time the words have left his mouth, his belt buckle jingling as he slips the strap free of the loop and unzips his fly. without the belt to hold them up, his slacks collapse around his ankles. he braces his hands on the wall, glancing back briefly over his shoulder. ]
You can't hurt me, so there's no need to be, uhm— polite.
[There's an implied other in Logan's question and when it doesn't get confirmed by that answer he wonders if it's weirder than the M-word on the tip of his tongue. Not that it matters really. Humans. Mutants. Atlanteans. Shi'ar. As long as the parts are generally compatible this always goes smooth enough. Still. It seems some small mercy at least to promise him some common ground here to a man who might be trying to loosen his collar a little.]
Me either.
[Logan plants a hand his shoulder blades none too gently. Shoves the man forward. Closer to the stall wall to give himself a half step of space. Enough room to get his dick out. Then he takes that meagre space for himself then too. Crowding him completely as he presses against Castiel's back. Lets him feel the weight of a man with metal in bones. Rocking his hips lazily against his ass until he's hard enough to do something about it. His voice comes in a low growl and smirk is smug enough to border on obnoxious.]
I ain’t never been accused of that.
[Pushing a hand between his companion and and wall, he palms his cock through his shorts just to warm him up. Maybe even start to figure out what buttons he wants pushed and how hard.]
S'that what you want? To hurt?
[If there's interest in that question it's an interest in honesty; Not any particular answer. There's a cautiousness to this guy Logan could blame on nerves if he was a younger man. Or a twitchier sorta guy. But this just feels like a man trying to hold something back.]
[ interesting— not a man, but not a monster, either. at least, the scent he catches wouldn't cause him to make that assumption, but there is something strange about him. a metallic tang that he can't taste settles on the back of his tongue, and isn't from the copper in his blood. he can identify the element, but not why it's present. (it's the metal in his bones.)
it doesn't really matter. he can defend himself if need be— he isn't helpless this time.
but he's pretty sure this man just wants to have intercourse, at least for the moment.
with the same reasoning, he allows himself to be shoved. chest and cheek pressing against the stall with a grunt, as though his muscle mass is really the defining factor behind this body's strength, and not the angelic grace poured inside of it. castiel's lips twitch, eyelashes fluttering at the sensation of that smothering weight, of hips pinning his own, of a gradually swelling erection sliding over the curve of his ass— at least that's something this body's got going for it. a nice, plush bottom and shapely thighs.
but, no, he doesn't imagine 'polite' is a word this man hears wielded in his direction very often. consequentially, he gives a breathy, barely-there laugh at the question. he chooses then to brace his heels against the floor and angle his hips back, like it's only just occurred to him that he can participate in this. ]
I can't feel— [ his hips jerk when that rough, heavy hand finds its way between his legs to settle over his cock. ] —pain. [ pleasure, though? obviously. his cock gives a twitch, swelling immediately beneath the heat of a palm, and he finds himself glancing down to watch it happen, shuddering at the sight of himself. ]
I've never— done anything like this before. But I wanted— needed to—
[That's a new one. Naturally the next question on Logan's mind is, what can this guy feel? Before he has a chance to ask an answer presents itself; Something. Obviously. Something he seems to enjoy well enough, at that. Small mercies for the both of them. The ones just here to prove something to themselves are never any fun.]
That's a fun trick.
[It's glib because he can't imagine what it means for... everything. Not right now anyway, with his cock stiff and rutting lazily against the cleft of this guy's ass. Does make him wonder though, what happens if you stab the guy? Also not the moment to ask a thing like that, but between the two of them their issues of pain and punishment could start to feel a little like kismet, and Logan hates finding out there's zero degrees of separation between him and whoever he's fucking on a whim. Never ends well.]
Heh. I can tell.
[His growl is knowing and smug and somewhere just behind Castiel's ear so the stubble on his chin drags against his neck. At least the guy seems honest enough, and as unaware as Logan, that they might be some kind of a serendipitous fit.
He drags his hand away a few times; Frustrating the cock in his fist with just that single direction until he inspires a few greedy stabs into his palm for more resistance.]
Needed, eh? Sounds desperate. What else do you need, bub?
[ castiel makes a sound by way of answer, a soft groan unfurling from the back of his throat as he's worked over, cock leaking a stain into the peak of his tented underwear. it's one of god's small mercies that he can feel, but it always gets him wondering if god didn't set them all up for failure from the very start. what use does a weapon have for pleasure? they need no reward for their service, so there couldn't possibly be one. except to deny them.
perhaps his father is a sadist.
it's all moot with a hard, hot hand groping at him between his legs. rough stubble catches against his skin in a way that pulls a shiver up from the base of his spine. his back arches with it, that graceful curve pressing his ass back into the pressure pinning him in place, to feel the hot line of a cock through layers of fabric. his hips give a sharp, unsteady jerk. a breath rushes out of him.
what else does he need? he thinks of how to say it, thinks of the pornography he's caught on bunny eared television sets and laptops left carelessly open, thinks of the way dean speaks, and says, with his forehead pressed to cool metal, ]
Fuck me—
[ as though he has to say it. his hands move away from the wall to his waistband, and he pulls his clinging shorts down with a rough yank. his breaths come in short gasps between sentences. ]
A condom isn't necessary. I can't pass diseases. But... it's at your discretion.
[If he hadn't already admitted as much that would have been the clencher— just how green this guy is. Maybe even how little he's thought about what he wants or needs from a stranger. Logan's wry laugh is little more than a snuff of breath somewhere over his shoulder.]
Heh. That's it?
He offers up enough space to let him push his shorts out of the way, smirking at that bare ass served up so easily. If that's all it's going to take the guy must be hard up. And if that's the case, more fun if that's the last move he gets to make without permission. His hands take Castiel at the wrists and hang his grip over the top of the stall. Holding them there long and firm enough to make the action an unspoken command. When he speaks again his voice is dull growl. Looking to antagonize an answer out of him by tone or by touch as he wrings the base of his cock tightly. Letting him build to a throb before teasing the slicked head against his other palm.]
Nothing you're itching for? No special requests? I get a lotta those. Or else... I'm just gonna enjoy you how ever I want.
But maybe that's exactly what you want here.
Edited (sorry for the hold up. i got a covid shot the other day and crashed immediately. </3) 2022-10-09 01:30 (UTC)
[ logan's right, he hasn't thought about it at all. he had an itch and decided to scratch it, but the truth is that it was at least half mimicry— when your closest friend in the world soothes over all of his own aches with booze and sex, and you can't get drunk, there's really only one other option. and he knows it's not a good idea, but it's still better than crashing a liquor store. they call the police on you over things like that. ]
I thought that was the... generally accepted reason to—
[ to do this. but he's distracted by his wrists being wrenched above his head. castiel is stronger than he looks— much stronger, considering that jimmy was the kinda' guy who looked like one solid punch would knock him flat. but he's not so far gone that he forgets to play along, curling his fingers over the rim of the stall and holding on, back caught in its arc.
he only wishes he could hold him down. it's a abrupt thought, unexpected, and it sends a thrill through him that makes his cock jerk. well, maybe he can. this is no normal human, he's certain of that. by the time the other man begins touching him again, he's leaking prerelease, clear and sticky smeared over his thick fingers. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@messenger
[True to his word Logan strolls in there and sets about washing his hands while someone else takes a moment clear out. Real casual like.]
Well. You a stall sorta guy, or what?
no subject
That's fine.
[ he's never done this before and has no way of knowing what might be considered customary, but the concept in itself seems to contain all the instructions he needs to follow. with one last glance, he turns and slips into the stall, leaving it ajar as he hangs his long tan coat on the rack.
it'll just get in the way if he leaves it on. ]
no subject
He unbuckles as he follows into the stall. Unconcerned about the way they're immediately crowding each other when he shuts the door behind him. At this distance though there's nothing he doesn't miss about the scent of this guy and that thought brings back that discerning look.]
Not human, eh?
no subject
there's hardly enough room for him to turn around. but although it's confining, it's not claustrophobic. his lips part, and he breathes in the heat radiating from his body. the intensity of his own gaze is marked by the twitch of his eyebrows when he's immediately caught out. ]
No, I'm not.
[ he says it so matter-of-factly that it's obvious this is a question he's had to answer before. in any case, he's already breaking eye contact. turning his back to logan by the time the words have left his mouth, his belt buckle jingling as he slips the strap free of the loop and unzips his fly. without the belt to hold them up, his slacks collapse around his ankles. he braces his hands on the wall, glancing back briefly over his shoulder. ]
You can't hurt me, so there's no need to be, uhm— polite.
no subject
Me either.
[Logan plants a hand his shoulder blades none too gently. Shoves the man forward. Closer to the stall wall to give himself a half step of space. Enough room to get his dick out. Then he takes that meagre space for himself then too. Crowding him completely as he presses against Castiel's back. Lets him feel the weight of a man with metal in bones. Rocking his hips lazily against his ass until he's hard enough to do something about it. His voice comes in a low growl and smirk is smug enough to border on obnoxious.]
I ain’t never been accused of that.
[Pushing a hand between his companion and and wall, he palms his cock through his shorts just to warm him up. Maybe even start to figure out what buttons he wants pushed and how hard.]
S'that what you want? To hurt?
[If there's interest in that question it's an interest in honesty; Not any particular answer. There's a cautiousness to this guy Logan could blame on nerves if he was a younger man. Or a twitchier sorta guy. But this just feels like a man trying to hold something back.]
no subject
it doesn't really matter. he can defend himself if need be— he isn't helpless this time.
but he's pretty sure this man just wants to have intercourse, at least for the moment.
with the same reasoning, he allows himself to be shoved. chest and cheek pressing against the stall with a grunt, as though his muscle mass is really the defining factor behind this body's strength, and not the angelic grace poured inside of it. castiel's lips twitch, eyelashes fluttering at the sensation of that smothering weight, of hips pinning his own, of a gradually swelling erection sliding over the curve of his ass— at least that's something this body's got going for it. a nice, plush bottom and shapely thighs.
but, no, he doesn't imagine 'polite' is a word this man hears wielded in his direction very often. consequentially, he gives a breathy, barely-there laugh at the question. he chooses then to brace his heels against the floor and angle his hips back, like it's only just occurred to him that he can participate in this. ]
I can't feel— [ his hips jerk when that rough, heavy hand finds its way between his legs to settle over his cock. ] —pain. [ pleasure, though? obviously. his cock gives a twitch, swelling immediately beneath the heat of a palm, and he finds himself glancing down to watch it happen, shuddering at the sight of himself. ]
I've never— done anything like this before. But I wanted— needed to—
no subject
That's a fun trick.
[It's glib because he can't imagine what it means for... everything. Not right now anyway, with his cock stiff and rutting lazily against the cleft of this guy's ass. Does make him wonder though, what happens if you stab the guy? Also not the moment to ask a thing like that, but between the two of them their issues of pain and punishment could start to feel a little like kismet, and Logan hates finding out there's zero degrees of separation between him and whoever he's fucking on a whim. Never ends well.]
Heh. I can tell.
[His growl is knowing and smug and somewhere just behind Castiel's ear so the stubble on his chin drags against his neck. At least the guy seems honest enough, and as unaware as Logan, that they might be some kind of a serendipitous fit.
He drags his hand away a few times; Frustrating the cock in his fist with just that single direction until he inspires a few greedy stabs into his palm for more resistance.]
Needed, eh? Sounds desperate. What else do you need, bub?
no subject
perhaps his father is a sadist.
it's all moot with a hard, hot hand groping at him between his legs. rough stubble catches against his skin in a way that pulls a shiver up from the base of his spine. his back arches with it, that graceful curve pressing his ass back into the pressure pinning him in place, to feel the hot line of a cock through layers of fabric. his hips give a sharp, unsteady jerk. a breath rushes out of him.
what else does he need? he thinks of how to say it, thinks of the pornography he's caught on bunny eared television sets and laptops left carelessly open, thinks of the way dean speaks, and says, with his forehead pressed to cool metal, ]
Fuck me—
[ as though he has to say it. his hands move away from the wall to his waistband, and he pulls his clinging shorts down with a rough yank. his breaths come in short gasps between sentences. ]
A condom isn't necessary. I can't pass diseases. But... it's at your discretion.
no subject
Heh. That's it?
He offers up enough space to let him push his shorts out of the way, smirking at that bare ass served up so easily. If that's all it's going to take the guy must be hard up. And if that's the case, more fun if that's the last move he gets to make without permission. His hands take Castiel at the wrists and hang his grip over the top of the stall. Holding them there long and firm enough to make the action an unspoken command. When he speaks again his voice is dull growl. Looking to antagonize an answer out of him by tone or by touch as he wrings the base of his cock tightly. Letting him build to a throb before teasing the slicked head against his other palm.]
Nothing you're itching for? No special requests? I get a lotta those. Or else... I'm just gonna enjoy you how ever I want.
But maybe that's exactly what you want here.
no subject
I thought that was the... generally accepted reason to—
[ to do this. but he's distracted by his wrists being wrenched above his head. castiel is stronger than he looks— much stronger, considering that jimmy was the kinda' guy who looked like one solid punch would knock him flat. but he's not so far gone that he forgets to play along, curling his fingers over the rim of the stall and holding on, back caught in its arc.
he only wishes he could hold him down. it's a abrupt thought, unexpected, and it sends a thrill through him that makes his cock jerk. well, maybe he can. this is no normal human, he's certain of that. by the time the other man begins touching him again, he's leaking prerelease, clear and sticky smeared over his thick fingers. ]
Yes.
[ the word hisses out from between his teeth. ]
Use me. However... however you see fit.