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"Come on, Cas. You gotta learn to live a little." Sliding his empty shot glass forward on the table with a finger, Dean stood and rolled up the sleeves of his flannel. "Watch this." With a smug grin and a wink, he turned and made his way over to the inflatable landing mat where the black mechanical bull sat, unmoving, having unseated its last rider.
Dean mounted up, twisting the rope around his right hand and gripping it tight while he adjusted his weight. Once he was settled, he let his other hand float loosely off to his side while he waited for the ride to start. It's been a while since he'd been on one of these, but these things were just like riding a bike. The sound of mechanical whirring kicked on and a moment later, he felt the bull beneath him begin to spin and tilt. Squeezing his thighs tighter, Dean relaxed his hips, letting them roll and shift along with the rocking of the bull.
After what had only felt like a few seconds at most, Dean lost the rhythm and felt his upper body begin to lurch in the wrong direction.
Shit.
Except Dean wasn't thrown off like he should have been. Instead, he was held down, anchored to the bull by an arm around his waist. Something sturdy braced against his back, and it took Dean a moment through the fog of alcohol to realize he was not crazy; there was definitely another person on the ride with him. Glancing down, he noticed the arm holding him was clothed in a white dress shirt…and the hand was…masculine—Dean's head swung around and out of the corner of his eye, far too close to his face, was fucking Castiel.
"Cas?!" The bull whirled around and Dean was forced to face forward again as it dipped forward. Cas held him flush against his chest as they leaned back together to keep their balance before it shifted the other way again. "What the hell, man?!"
"You were about to fall. I was saving you." It was a miracle Dean processed the words at all because when Cas spoke, his voice came as a low rumble next to his ear and it made something in Dean's head hum and float like he'd taken a strong shot of whiskey. "And," Cas continued, "you told me to live a little. Apparently sitting on this machine constitutes living. Shouldn't you be happy?"
If Dean didn't know better, he'd think Cas was being a smart ass. Turning just enough to see the slight smirk on the angel's face confirmed it. Dude was screwing with him.
"Cas, man, you can't just"—the bull whipped around—"where's your trench coat?" Why the hell Cas's coat was Dean's biggest concern, he had no clue.
Dean tightened his grip above Cas's knee behind him. Apparently on the last jerky spin from the bull, Dean had grabbed hold of Cas with his free hand to keep from being toppled sideways to the ground. Cas's arm tightened around Dean's waist in response, and Dean could feel the angel's hot breath on his neck. Their hips rolled together in unison to the rhythmic rocking of the bull, and fuck, Dean was getting hard. He was getting hard riding a giant toy animal with his best friend—in public.
Whether it was the alcohol or the random boner fogging up his brain, he wasn't sure. He was definitely going to blame the alcohol later but for the moment he rolled his hips slightly more deliberately, creating friction against Cas's crotch. The most surprising part though, was the low growl that it elicited from the angel. Dean felt Cas's other hand slide across his lower back before snaking around his front to land on his upper thigh, thumb resting just inside the dip of his hip bone.
Cas tugged Dean closer to him, pressing his own hips forward. Cas was fucking hard too. His clothed dick was grinding against Dean's lower back to the motion of the mechanical bull's swaying. Unfortunately that was when the ride ended. The bull halted in place and Dean was stuck there, straddling the damn thing with a boner and Cas as good as straddling him from behind. The bar, the noise, the crowd that couldn't have possibly missed a dude appearing out of thin air in the middle of a bull ride, it all came rushing back. Needing to get out of there, Dean moved to leave, not quite knowing how to work his limbs to untangle himself from the situation.
His shoulders hit the landing mat and he bounced, and then Cas was there. Dean had flailed on his fall, and pulled Cas down with him. His tie was still clutched in Dean's fist. Cas's thigh was resting between his legs with just enough pressure to short circuit his brain and fuck he was trying hard not to thrust up against the guy. Cas's eyes were dark and he looked fucking ravenous as he stared down at Dean. Letting go of the blue tie, both of them scrambled to get up. Cas tried to help him, but Dean brushed him away. His only goal in the world was to get the hell away from the crowd of people before anyone saw his raging hard on. The universe seemed to be out to get him as he had to bounce his way across the godforsaken inflatable mat to the exit.
When they both finally made it to solid ground, Dean scanned the bar for the restroom sign. As soon as he spotted it, he grabbed Cas by the arm and made a beeline for the wooden door. He needed to get Cas out of there and find out what the fuck just happened.
Inside the bathroom, Dean turned the lock on the door before rounding on Cas. Pressing his forearm against his chest, he walked the angel back into the far wall and pressed him against it.
"Cas, what the hell was that?!"
"I—" Cas looked scared now. He averted his eyes and his mouth moved like he was trying to talk but his voice wouldn't cooperate with him. The silence grew thick between them, their breathing - still heavy - was the only sound aside from the muffled hum of the bar on the other side of the door.
"Cas, you can't just—you…" Dean let out a sigh.
"I know, Dean." Cas met his gaze again, lifting his chin, but in doing so his nose was only a hair's breadth away from the hunter's. Dean didn't miss the way Castiel paused, letting his eyes flicker down then back up before speaking again. "I'm sorry for… causing you trouble." It seemed like the angel was spending more time staring at Dean's lips than his eyes the longer they stood like that, pressed close together. "I'll be more careful next time I try to"—Cas swallowed but it didn't soften the roughness of his voice—"live a little."
The air felt dry and hot, and Dean used his tongue to wet his lips. As he did, blue eyes tracked the movement. When their eyes met again, it seemed as though they had somehow gotten even closer but that couldn't be possible. Cas's voice, the look in his eyes, his smell…did Cas always smell this good? He couldn't remember. Dean wasn't usually close enough to notice. It was way too much. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff about to fall, but at the bottom was Castiel, and for some reason, that seemed okay. Dean must have been silent, just staring at Cas for way too long, because he spoke again, breaking the silence.
"Dean."
Before Cas could add any more, Dean threw out a silent 'fuck it' to the universe and went in, closing the gap. Their lips crashed together, and when they did, Cas immediately moaned against Dean's mouth like he'd been waiting on that same ledge, just as ready. Like a dam had broken, they were on each other. Pushing, pulling, and grabbing. Pressing his body flush against Cas, pinning him to the wall, Dean ran a hand up his chest, around to the back of his neck, and tangled his fingers in the angel's hair. He rolled his hips forward into the obvious bulge in Cas's slacks. The friction they found there had them moaning desperately in unison. When Cas's lips parted, Dean licked his way into mouth, his tongue sliding over the angel's. He rocked himself rhythmically against Cas, trying to find that perfect position where their cocks were slotted against each other. Jesus christ, just the thought had his own cock hard and leaking against his jeans.
Castiel broke the kiss a moment later, pupils blown as he looked at Dean with lidded eyes. Their breath was labored, both men panting and trying to catch a breath, hands fisted in each other's clothes. They were still very much firmly attached at the hips, continuing to move together almost subconsciously.
Dean licked his lips and stared, eyes half glazed, at the angel. He wanted more, needed more. Fuck. Dipping his head down, he closed his eyes and breathed in Cas's scent as he pressed an open mouthed kiss to his neck. A growl emitted from Cas and suddenly it was Dean who had his back pressed to the wall. Breath hitching at the impact with the wall, Dean tried to shake the fog from his mind.
"Cas, what uh–" Hands were on his belt buckle. Cas was undoing his jeans. "Whoa, hey Cas, what are you--holy fuck." Whatever he was saying didn't matter because Cas's hand was on his cock and moving and Dean's entire brain was powering down while his body came alive, wracked with pleasure. Hand coming up to Cas's shoulder, his mouth fell open and his head fell back, hitting the wall with a thud. "Fuck, Cas… Ah, God."
Leaning in, Cas's mouth was on Dean's now exposed neck. He kissed and licked his way up while his hand kept rhythmically stroking Dean's cock. His hand slid down to the base, squeezing gently, fingers brushing across his balls, then moving back up. The feeling of Cas's warm mouth and hands on Dean's skin had him sighing and carding his fingers through Cas's hair. Dean was getting close really fucking fast for a basic handjob. Nothing about what was happening felt basic though. It was like his entire body was lit up and he was just basking in the pleasure of it. When Cas's thumb slipped over the tip of his cock once and caught the precome beading there, sliding it across the head, Dean could not stop the whimper that fell from his lips.
"Ah! Fuh—"
Another growl came from Cas, and all too suddenly the sensations stopped. Cas had pulled away from his neck, and his achingly hard cock bobbed untouched.
"Dean." His name came out as more of a moan than anything. Eyes fluttering open, Dean looked at Cas who was inches from his face, mouth hanging open slightly and eyes unfocused. The angel was fumbling with his own belt and zipper. Needing something—anything, Dean brushed his nose against Cas's, then began planting needy wet kisses on his lips. When Cas finally got his slacks undone, he shoved his hand in and pulled himself free.
Before Dean could begin to process what was happening, Cas made eye contact with him, and raised his hand to his mouth. Spitting in his palm, he then wrapped it around Dean’s cock and brought it together with his own, making them both groan together.
"Oh—God." Falling forward against him, Dean clutched Cas's shirt at his shoulder as if it was the only thing keeping him afloat. "Fuck…" Somewhere in the back of Dean's mind, he knew he should be stopping this, that it was crazy, but… he couldn't figure out why right then. The feelings just kept building in waves of pleasure and fuck he couldn't think. He just needed Cas, needed this, whatever this was.
Cas pressed his forehead against Dean's and began to move his hand, their cocks sliding together as he stroked them both.
"Dean—Oh God, Dean." Cas's voice came low and wrecked, his breathing ragged.
"Cas, I'm—fuck, Cas." There was no way Dean was going to last much longer. The way Cas's hand slid over them. The way he was rubbing the pad of his thumb over the head of Dean's cock on the upstroke and smearing the precome that collected there. The way the shaft of Cas's cock felt hot and smooth as it moved against his own. It was all so fucking much. But it wasn't just the feeling of the double fucking handjob, no. It was the filthiness of doing it against the bathroom wall, the way his best friend—an angel of the damn Lord—was moaning and cursing in his ear like it was better than prayer while he jacked them both off.
Dean couldn't even get the words out. In response, Cas only let out another gravelly moan and stared with half closed eyes into Dean's own. He then picked up the pace, jerking them rapidly, making Dean whimper and gasp with hitched breaths. Letting his head fall to rest on Cas's shoulder, he clung to the angel as he came. Shuttering, he muffled his cry against Cas's neck and the now damp collar of his dress shirt as he felt himself spill over the other man's hand and both their cock's. As if on cue, Cas came only a moment later, growling out Dean's name while his seed mixed with the hunter's.
Coming back down to reality felt like being thrown from a mechanical bull.
Shit.
Shitshitshit.
Time to go. That's what needed to happen. He needed fix his pants, which of course had come on them now, get the hell out of there, and reassess later—or shove it down for-fucking-ever and pretend it never happened. The second option, with the help of a lot of booze, was definitely the only real answer. But then Dean made the biggest mistake he could make. As he drew back, lifting his head from Cas's shoulder, hands clinging to him, he was caught by the most reverent stare he'd ever seen directed at him in his life… and he didn't want to let go.