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This is the stupidest idea I've ever had.
Blame tequila. And Charlie. And maybe drunk past Dean was possessed by nefarious supernatural forces.
That's probably it. There’s no other rational explanation for the fact that Dean is sitting in Baby staring at a yellow bungalow with his gut twisted like some sort of Gordian knot.
Dean digs his phone out of his pocket.
Dean: if this guy murders me, I'm haunting your ass
Charlie: oooh. A haunted ass? I'm gonna pull so many cute goth girls
Charlie: maybe I'll wear a black veil. I think I could pull that off
Dean: you are literally the worst
Charlie: you love it. Now stop procrastinating.
Charlie: You're lurking outside like a weirdo, aren't you? I can feel it from here, dude.
Charlie: go inside.
Dean sighs down at his phone.
He's not lurking. He's simply assessing the situation. He's being cautious. Sensible.
In these modern times you never know what kind of weird psychopath might be hiding behind an innocuous advertisement for services.
Especially boudoir photography services.
What kind of guy takes pictures of naked strangers for a living? He probably has a 1970s pornstashe. And unironically wears one of those Hugh Hefner smoking jackets.
Hell, this guy probably lures unsuspecting people to his lair so he can get off on taking pictures of their naughty bits before he kills them and buries him in his bright, sunny garden for fertilizer.
Those sunflowers look a little too healthy.
Well, Dean Winchester is nobody's plant food.
He reaches to start his car. He will simply head home and resume his previous Valentine’s plans - Tombstone and a carton of Rocky Road.
His phone dings.
Charlie: I'm serious Dean. I can hear you overthinking this from here. Don't make me cut off your Prime access. I will change my password so fast.
Defeated, Dean grabs the keys from the ignition and slides out of the car.
He shoots Charlie a quick text with the address (in case the guy does get murdery) and assurances (lies) that he was not lurking and just arrived. If she sees through the falsehood, she's too good of a friend to call him on it.
Dean tries to ignore the acid roiling in his stomach.
This all seemed like a great idea a few weeks ago. But life comes at you fast or whatever.
He knocks, waiting for Pornstashe McSerialkiller to answer.
I could just run. Nobody would stop me.
I can buy my own Amazon prime access. I don't have to let Charlie-
The door clicks open and Dean’s stomach flips over.
Unfortunately for Dean, the photographer isn't some weird skeeze, after all.
He's hot.
Like really hot.
Like blue eyes and sex hair scorching on fire hot. Even his ill-fitting accountant suit does nothing to hide that he's built like a brick house.
He smiles softly at Dean. "Hello, Dean. I'm Castiel. I hope you found the place okay. Please, come in."
Dean feels his body clench at the man's gravelly voice. Great, so he's hot and he could be a phone sex operator driving Dean into bankruptcy.
He's so screwed. He has to take his clothes off in front of this man.
This is fine. Just peachy.
Castiel steps back, motioning for Dean to come in. Dean walks around him, trying not to stare.
Dean's nerves must be plastered across his face because Cas gives him a little encouraging smile. "It's okay to be nervous, but I promise you're in good hands."
Dean tries very hard not to envision those good hands all over him. His dick doesn't get the message.
A cold wave of dread hits. Not only does he have to be naked in front of this sex-god-slash-photographer, but there is the real and horrifying possibility he also gets a boner while doing it.
That thought is at least enough to quell any horniness for the moment.
Dean presses his shoulders back, smiling with confidence he doesn’t actually have. "Thanks, Cas. I'm sure you'll take good care of me. You look like the kind of guy who knows how to be gentle with a first timer."
Dean internally cringes at the inadvertent double entendre.
Is it creepy to flirt with the man who's about to take pictures of you naked?
The photographer just tilts his head. "You called me Cas."
Dean feels a warm flush on his cheeks. "Yeah, uh, sorry. I tend to give people nicknames. Castiel is kind of a mouthful. Not that it isn't a great name. I can call you whatever you want."
His lips twitch slightly. "It's fine Dean. If calling me Cas makes you more comfortable, call me Cas."
He turns walking down the hallway and motioning for Dean to follow.
He looks back over his shoulder. "I'll also accept Daddy. If that's not too much of a mouthful ."
Dean can hear the smirk in his voice.
Horniness at the idea of a mouthful of Cas wars with the fear keeping his wayward dick in check.
Cas leads him to a bright, warm studio, motioning him to sit at a small wooden table.
He slides into a chair opposite of Dean, a professional mask sliding into place. All hints of the wicked flirtation are wiped away which is probably better from a humiliation perspective.
Cas assesses Dean quietly for a moment before speaking. "I thought we'd go over a few things before we start. Is there anything in particular you had in mind? I want to make sure I know what you hope to get out of this session."
He consults a piece of paper in front of him. "It says here you have a partner. Is there anything special you want to do for Lee? Any specific kinks?"
If Cas had thrown ice water on Dean, it wouldn’t have been as effective as shutting him down.
"Oh, actually we-" Dean's voice trembles embarrassingly, "aren't together anymore. He cheated on me."
Heat crawls up Dean’s face.
This was supposed to be a Valentine’s Day gift for Lee, but it turned out he had already gotten himself something else. A twink named Alec.
Dean had come home early two weeks ago to find him balls deep in the homewrecker.
And-
Well, maybe that's not fair to Alec who had seemed rather horrified to learn that he was Jolene to Dean’s Dolly.
If the way he stormed out of their apartment was any indication, Lee's date for Valentine’s Day is Hands Solo.
It should make Dean feel better. Some petty joy in knowing that Lee tossed away a year of happiness for nothing. But, well, it just feels pathetic.
It's funny, really. He bought this stupid photoshoot because their sex life had tapered off in recent months. He'd blamed himself, acknowledging that he hadn't exactly been making an A+ effort.
Tequila and one best friend bitch session has conspired to convince him that a couple of tasteful nudes would fix his relationship.
And now here he is, stuck taking pictures for a boyfriend he doesn't have because of a stupid non-refundable policy.
Well and he'd felt bad asking for his money back. It isn’t like Cas was the one stepping out on him. Why should he pay for Dean's bad taste in men?
Dean stares at his hands on the table, unable to meet Cas' eyes. Unable to see the knowledge hit that Dean failed to keep his man or whatever.
A warm solid hand grasps his shoulder. "Hey, that just means this Lee asshole was an idiot. Fuck him. Let's do this for you."
Dean drags his eyes up to find compassion rather than judgment written across Cas' face.
Cas smiles softly. "I am going to make you look so hot - which won't be a challenge, by the way because you're gorgeous - and then you can decide whether you keep these for you or send them to that loser after a bottle of wine to show him what he's missing."
He rubs his thumb on Dean’s shoulder. Dean leans into it a bit.
"Either way, let's focus on you. What do you want, Dean?"
His blue eyes are so intense and for a moment, Dean considers answering with the truth, which is that right now what he wants is very much is to explore how that hand would feel elsewhere on his body.
But Cas probably gets hit on all the time in a job like this and he deserves to be treated as a professional. So Dean swallows thickly and tells him what he wants second most in the world right now.
"I actually wore something I'd like you to take my picture in. Panties, if that's okay."
Cas' eyes darken in a way that indicates it is very okay. He licks his lips and Dean follows the darting movements of his tongue.
Cas clears his throat awkwardly, shifting slightly. "Yes, I think that will work nicely. If you'd like to step behind that screen, you can remove everything else. There's a robe on the hook back there as well, if it would make you more comfortable."
Dean casts a glance over to the screen. On the wall is a silky floral robe.
He gets up, taking a step towards the screen, but he feels Cas' eyes on him and turns to catch him staring at Dean with undeniable interest.
Something wicked takes over in Dean’s mind and his resolve not to hit on the attractive man with the camera crumbles.
Dean grins saucily as he brings his hand to his belt. "Or, I could just take it off here."
Cas' sucks in a breath watching Dean hungrily as he slowly removes the belt.
Oh yeah. Maybe this was a good idea after all because Cas' professional mask is slipping and underneath is raw desire.
Dean shrugs off his jacket, hanging it on his abandoned chair.
Cas traces Dean’s arms with his gaze, and it contains so much heat, he can almost feel it burning across his biceps.
Dean smirks "You know, it hardly seems fair. I have to take off all my clothes and you're just going to sit there in a suit. You could get a little more comfortable."
A warm throaty chuckle from Cas sends shivers up Dean’s spine.
"I'm afraid nude photography refers to the subject, not the one holding the camera." He raises an eyebrow and Dean feels heat rush to his dick. "But I suppose I could lose the tie."
Cas reaches up to his throat, pulling at the tie and sliding it out from around his neck.
Dean stares at the blue silk, a wicked thought running through his mind. "Good idea. We can use that in the photoshoot."
Cas shifts again, but he doesn’t break eye contact.
Instead he raises an eyebrow. "I suppose that depends how well you follow directions."
Dean feels himself get semi-hard at that, his very interested dick pressing against his jeans.
He clears his throat and looks away, taking the excuse of sliding off his t-shirt to try and cool off the thrumming heat in his veins. He isn't sure what the proper etiquette is here, but it's probably not starting out with an erection.
The distraction works and he's able to slide off his jeans without revealing just how into that idea he is.
A man should play at least a little hard to get.
That works for about 30 seconds, just until he turns back to find Cas' eyes laser-focused on the green satin panties barely managing to contain Dean.
Hard to get's overrated actually.
Cas lets out a strangled growl.
"To confirm," he says in a low grumble, "the panties will work very well for me -"
He frowns slightly. "-for the photos I mean."
Dean grins, enjoying the way Cas is failing to hide just how much he wants Dean.
It feels-
It feels powerful. Sexy.
It's been too long since Dean felt wanted. Desired. Even before the great Lee sex drought, sex had become somewhat of an obligation. Something to work in before powering up Netflix. An itch to be scratched.
But the way Cas is eyeing Dean like a slice of pie? Well, Dean could get used to that.
He turns around, eyeing Cas over his shoulder. "You don't think the bow is too much?"
He watches as Cas' eyes darken as he takes in the interlocking black satin ribbon holding together the corset back of the panties.
"I think you're perfect," Cas growls.
Dean's heart does stupid flip flops over those words.
Cas tears his gaze away clearing his throat. He walks over to a table with his equipment. "Let's get started. Please make yourself comfortable on that chaise lounge over there."
Dean walks over to the deep purple couch. It looks soft, like it'll feel good against his bare skin.
He runs his fingers along the side, confirming that the velvety material is as sensuous as it looks.
He spreads himself across it.
Dean may not be lucky in love, but he’s a man who knows his angles, his misspent early 20s being a master class on the art of seduction.
How had he let Lee stifle that? How had he forgotten how fun it was to want and be wanted?
He lays on his side, tilting his hips forward and showing off the whole green satin-wrapped package.
Cas examines Dean, the heat from earlier replaced with a smoldering coal as his professional mask slides back into place.
He frowns down at Dean.
"I think if you just-"
Cas reaches out, clasping Dean’s wrist and moving his arm up to frame his face.
The contact is electric, like touching a live wire. It sends a shiver down Dean’s spine.
Cas' eyes darken at the movement, but he steps back putting the camera between them like some last bastion of defense.
Dean gazes up at Cas through his eyelashes, letting the full force of his desire show on his face.
Cas mutters a curse under his breath.
It shouldn't be hot, but chalk it up to a previously undiscovered kink, because something about this buttoned up man using filthy words sends blood directly to Dean’s dick.
Dean hears the moment Cas notices. He sucks in a breath.
Not one to waste an opportunity, Dean grins up saucily and palms himself.
That earns a little groan from Cas.
"Dean."
It's a warning, but it fails to act as a deterrent.
Because underneath the admonition, Cas' voice sounds like a man crawling through the desert and spotting a glass of water.
Dean runs a finger along his length, biting his lip playfully.
Cas lowers the camera, and now there is nothing to hide his glowing blue eyes.
"If you can't stay put where I posed you, I'm going to have to get the tie."
There's a playful mischief in his voice that sends another warm wave of arousal through Dean.
Dean gives Cas a saucy wink, bucking his hips a bit. "Mmm. I think I'd like that, Cas. Don't threaten me with a good time."
Cas stares at the wet spot on Dean’s panties, his eyes widening in unmistakable lust.
Cas' fingers twitch, as if he is moments from breaking through the professional control he's trying to maintain.
Instead, he clears his throat and his face falls. "Dean, I'm sorry. That wasn't very professional."
He snaps the camera back up, framing some additional shots.
Well, Dean Winchester has never backed away from a challenge, especially not one hot enough to singe.
He slides a finger under the green material, moaning as he runs a finger along his head, slick precome giving it a pleasant slide against his sensitive tip.
He puts his finger up to his mouth, licking the salty liquid off the top.
Cas growls, his composure shattered.
He turns and stalks over to the table to grab the discarded tie.
Dean feels his dick twitch at the possibilities of what Cas might do with it.
Cas grabs Dean, practically picking him up to turn him so he is bent over the arm of the chaise lounge.
He leans forward, the length of his body pressing against Dean’s back.
"You should show me some respect, Dean. If you insist on being a brat, I'm going to have to show you who's in charge of this photo shoot."
Cas' hot breath against Dean’s ear and the gravel in his low tone send desperation through Dean's body.
He whines, tilting his hips back to brush his ass against Cas' dick and - holy shit those ill-fitting suit pants were hiding the very impressive evidence that the photographer wants this as much as Dean does, professional platitudes aside.
Cas presses into Dean for a moment.
Dean’s dick is straining against the satin, but Cas has his arms pinned behind him. He moves against Cas, whining.
Desperation thrums through Dean’s body but there’s no relief to be found.
He cracks. "Please, Cas. I need you."
Cas lets loose a throaty chuckle.
"Patience, Dean. I think it's clear we both want this. I shouldn't and I hope you won't think less of me but-"
He pauses, as if deciding whether to finish the sentence.
Dean peeks over his shoulder at Cas. "But?"
Cas sighs. "It's been awhile for me and you are so-" He cups Dean’s face softly, like he's precious and breakable. "Let's just say some people are worth breaking the rules for and I get the distinct feeling you are one of them."
Cas leans forward, tilting his head and bringing their lips together. He kisses Dean with a tenderness that makes a corresponding tightness rise in Dean’s chest.
Cas breaks the kiss, looking into Dean’s eyes. "I'd like to tie you up first, if you'll let me. I think you will look beautiful with my tie around your wrists."
Dean’s heart stutters a little at that.
He knows he’s hot, especially when he turns on the charm, but nobody has ever called him beautiful.
Beautiful is for sunsets and paintings. Things to be cherished.
He lets out a shaky breath. "Cas, you can’t just say things like that."
Cas leans back, depriving Dean of his warmth, but his body is replaced with fingers trailing down Dean's back. He arches in response.
The glide of Cas' fingers on his skin leaves trails of goosebumps. Dean shivers as he reaches the curve of his lower back.
Cas grabs Dean’s hips, positioning him so that he's balanced on his knees, his aching dick pressed against the side of the chaise lounge.
The pressure of something hard against Dean makes him want to rut into it, to find some relief for the delicious ache.
But he can feel Cas' eyes on him and he wants to be perfect, to give Cas what he's asked for.
Cas runs his hands up Dean’s thighs, spreading his legs a bit.
He hums a deep little growl of approval at the repositioning. "I'm an artist, Dean. I know beauty when I see it. And you are the most beautiful man I've ever met. I've never wanted anyone the way I want you, and I plan to spend as long as it takes showing you what I see."
Dean shivers, craving more contact. But he doesn’t move no matter how hard the need fuzzes out his brain.
He wants to see what Cas sees. Or, well, he wants to give Cas this and he hopes that the result will be okay.
It doesn't matter what the pictures look like, though, because Dean already feels what he'd hoped for during his tequila soaked rant to Charlie.
Desired. Sexy. Wanted.
Cas leans forward again, whispering in Dean’s ear. "Now will you be my good boy and let me tie you up?" Dean's aching dick jumps against its satin prison at Cas' voice.
Dean bites his lip, struggling to remain still and do as he's told. "Yes, Cas. You're killing me, man. But yes. Do whatever you want to me."
Cas ghosts his hands across Dean’s shoulders, grabbing his hands and crossing them behind Dean.
Every touch is sweet agony, tendrils of heat tracing the curves of Dean’s arms.
Silk wraps around Dean’s wrists, as Cas secures him, tying the material loosely enough not to hurt Dean, but tight enough for him to feel it.
Dean tests the bonds, a little thrill running through him - his world reduced to Cas' commands.
Cas steps back, humming in approval. "You're being so good for me Dean." Pleasure prickles in Dean’s brain.
He wants to make Cas happy. He arches his back and Cas moans. "Just like that. Fuck, Dean. You look amazing like that. Don't move."
He can hear Cas moving around to find the best angle. Each click sends another little wave of arousal through Dean.
There's something about being seen, being desired. He may be helpless, held in place by the bonds and the weight of Cas' words, but he feels powerful - like he could take on God himself and win.
Cas pauses for a moment and Dean takes the opportunity to look over his shoulder. Cas is standing above him, eyes squinting as he considers Dean, camera hanging around his neck.
A wicked, wonderful thought strikes Dean.
Maybe he can give Cas what he's asked for and make this a bit more interactive.
Dean bites his lip playfully and casts his hips forward against the cushioned material to get a little relief, but also to give Cas a little show.
It works. Cas groans, ignoring his camera to palm himself.
Dean licks his lips, looking up through his eyelashes. "If you wanted, Cas. You could star in these photos yourself. I bet your dick would look amazing in my mouth."
All hope of professional demeanor flies out the door, replaced again with a smoky, sensuous heat.
Cas stalks around to the other side of the couch, sliding his belt off as he moves.
He cups Dean’s face, and kisses him. Its filthy. His tongue slides against Dean's as he moans into his mouth.
Dean bucks against the velvet, the slide against the softly wrapped cushion building pressure at the base of his spine.
Dean pulls back before he accidentally sets off the finale fireworks before the main event even begins.
He grins at Cas playfully. "Help me to the floor?"
Cas grabs his shoulders, steadying Dean so that he can get on his knees.
Cas unbuttons and unzips his pants, sliding them off along with his underwear. Any lingering doubt Dean may have had is erased by the undeniably hard, flushed dick in front of him.
Dean leans forward, licking salty precome off the slit.
Cas makes a choked half sobbing noise.
Dean smiles to himself, enjoying the way he can make Cas weak with only his mouth. No hands, no contact other than the slide of his tongue.
He looks up at Cas, finding his smoldering gaze, a slight tilt of his head as if asking for permission. Dean doesn’t hesitate to give it. "Fuck my face, Cas. Please."
Cas presses his dick into Dean’s mouth. Dean feels the stretch in his jaw. Cas is huge. A lot bigger than a certain ex-boyfriend he won't be thinking about, thank you very much.
He's gentle at first, hesitant. Like he's worried he might hurt Dean.
But if sucking dick was an Olympic sport, Dean Winchester would be a shoe-in for the gold.
He may be out of practice, but Dean spent his early 20s training for this. He's always loved it. There’s something so powerful about bringing a man to ruin with your mouth.
Dean swallows Cas down, the tip pressing against the back of his throat.
Cas takes a shuddering breath. "Dean. Oh my God. You look so hot like this."
Dean hears a click and looks up to see Cas, camera poised in front of him.
And that won't do actually. Dean wants this man incoherent, unable to focus on anything other than the feel of his mouth.
Dean pulls back, pressing his tongue against the bottom of Cas' dick. Then he slams forward again, taking him deep in one motion.
He works Cas like that for a few minutes, until Cas is muttering incoherently.
Dean’s throat burns a bit, and it feels so good. His entire universe is devoted in this moment to making Cas lose control.
Dean peeks up to see Cas' head thrown back in ecstacy, his camera forgotten around his neck.
Dean feels a little thrill of victory.
He punctuates it with a hum and Cas' eyes fly open.
He lays a gentle hand on Dean's head, tilting his hips back and pulling his glorious dick away from Dean’s lips.
Dean lets out a yelp of protest and Cas strokes his face softly. "Dean, that feels too good. I don't want to come yet."
He stares at Dean a moment, then smiles. "Stay like that."
He raises his camera, adjusting it a bit.
He takes a picture, nodding to himself in approval.
Then, almost impossibly gently, he places his hands on Dean’s shoulders, helping him to his feet.
He kisses Dean softly, wrapping his arms around Dean to remove the tie.
Hands free, Dean tugs at the rest of Cas' clothes, trying to get him to the state of nakedness Dean desires.
Cas trails kisses along Dean’s jaw, nibbling softly behind his ear. At the same time, he runs his hand softly through Dean’s hair, cradling his head.
It suddenly seems critical that Dean gets his hands on the muscular body he can feel beneath the stuffy cotton material. Dean tears at Cas' shirt, groaning in frustration.
Why are there so many buttons on this shirt?
Cas chuckles against his skin, pulling back to help remove the rest of his clothing.
Dean runs his hand over Cas' newly freed chest, tracing the hard planes of his body. His skin is hot and smooth under Dean’s fingertips.
Impatience tugs at him. He wants this so badly, he can barely stand it. "Cas, please tell me you have lube. I want you inside of me."
Cas grins at him.
"In my room. But first, let me show you."
He presses a few buttons on his camera, then hands it to Dean, walking around to press against his back and look over his shoulder.
On the screen Dean is spread out, green eyes lidded in lust. His green panties shine against the purple beneath him.
Cas somehow captured a look of pure desire. It's the hottest thing he's ever seen.
"I look like a freaking painting, Cas."
Cas smiles into his shoulder. He reaches around Dean’s chest and points at the camera. "Push this right here."
Dean presses a button, cycling through the pictures. His green eyes shine with lust and the growing wet spot as be cycles through the pictures is undeniably sexy.
Yeah, it's porn, but it's also-
Well, Dean looks gorgeous.
Cas runs his hands down Dean’s stomach, cupping his hardness gently.
"You're a work of art, Dean."
Dean sucks in a breath as Cas slides his hand underneath the satin, gripping him tightly.
"Keep going." Cas grumbles in his ear.
Dean groans, but complies, moving on to the next set, the soft blue of Cas' tie contrasting with the shiny green and black.
Cas slides his hand up and down the length of Dean’s dick. His hand feels huge and rough and the firm strokes send shock waves through his body making his knees weak.
"Cas." Dean moans out the name like a prayer, though he doesn't know if the message is to stop or keep going.
Cas nibbles on the side of Dean’s neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin.
Dean whimpers.
Cas nips at Dean’s earlobe. "Keep going. The next set is my favorite."
Dean does as he's told and he's met with the glorious sight of Cas’ perfect dick between his lips. Dean is looking at the camera, green eyes burning with lust.
Dean whines, fucking into Cas' fist with abandon as he looks at the photos.
He sucks in a breath at the final picture.
Dean’s eyes are shining with tears, his lips plump and red from the blowjob. There's a halo of light behind him.
He’s-
Well, he's beautiful.
Holy shit.
"Cas, these are amazing."
Cas takes the camera, laying it down on the table. Then he walks over to Dean, cupping his face softly. "You're amazing."
Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Cas kisses him deeply, and he immediately forgets whatever self-deprecating thing Dean was about to say.
Because here in his arms, burning with need, is Cas. What else could there possibly be but the scrape of his stubble and the warmth of his chest?
Cas leads Dean out of the studio and into a sunny, bright bedroom, pushing him gently down on the bed.
Something about the new location sends a twinge of uncertainty through Dean's chest. Things had felt a lot simpler in the studio for some reason.
Here in the light of day, Dean's confidence wavers.
It's been awhile, and finding out your boyfriend is fucking around can really be a blow to the self-confidence.
What does Alec have that I don't?
But Cas is standing above him, dick hard and leaking and Dean wants to feel it inside of him, so he shuts down the insecure voice trying to cockblock him.
Dean wants this, needs this. So he puts on his big boy panties and asks for what he wants.
"Cas, I want you inside of me and -uh - well I guess we haven't talked about this. I'm clean. I'm on PrEP and I got tested after I found out Lee was-" Dean looks away, suddenly self conscious.
Cas climbs onto the bed, straddling Dean and slotting their bodies together. He grabs Dean's chin, cradling it as he leans forward to kiss him - sweetly at first but with increasing intensity until they are both breathless with it.
Cas balances on an elbow, stroking Dean’s face softly. "He's an idiot. Mercifully for me, because I am going to fuck you into this mattress until you forget his name, and then I am going to come in your ass." Cas presses his hips down, giving Dean some much needed friction.
Dean bucks up into Cas, electric arousal humming through him.
"And that’s just to start because I've only had a taste of you, Dean Winchester, and I can already tell once won't be enough."
Cas reaches into a drawer and pulls out some Astroglide.
He begins kissing down Dean’s chest, taking his time to trace the lines of Dean’s body with his tongue.
When he gets to Dean’s panties, he hooks his finger under them and pulls, sliding them off and finally freeing Dean's dick.
His eyes darken as he takes Dean in his mouth, warm and wonderfully wet.
Dean fights the instinct to fuck up into Cas' mouth.
Deft fingers rub against Dean’s ass.
"Cas, please. I'm not sure how long I'm gonna last if you keep that up."
Cas hums but pulls off, instead running his tongue down to Dean’s balls and then his thighs.
The wet heat of Cas' tongue sends jolts of electricity through Dean, like lightning in a Midwestern storm.
Dean whines pitifully, biting his lip to keep from begging.
Dean hears the snick of the bottle and feels Cas' fingers pressing at his entrance. Dean groans as a finger slides in.
"Cas." Dean moans the name, all other thoughts flying out of his mind.
Dean presses his hands on the headboard, fucking down on the finger.
Cas works in a second and then a third, slowly taking Dean apart from the inside.
Dean's breath is coming in little pants and his brain can't focus on anything beyond the slide of Cas’ fingers and the stretch in his ass.
"You're beautiful like this too, Dean. Maybe I'll have to take some more pictures on another day, just to capture how amazing you look speared on my fingers."
Dean moans, his cock leaking with every thrust of Cas' fingers.
"Cas, please. Need you. Now."
Cas pulls his fingers out and there is another click from the lube bottle. Then Cas is above Dean again, his head pressing against Dean’s hole.
He presses into Dean, working into him slowly, as if scared he might hurt him.
And yeah, the stretch of his dick is a lot more than three fingers, but it also feels so good.
Dean wraps his legs around Cas, pulling him closer. "I can take it Cas."
Cas presses into him, bottoming out. He looks at Dean, eyes wide as if he's amazed by how well they fit.
Dean reaches up and pulls him into another bruising kiss.
It's pretty unbelievable to him too. Who would have thought this was how his Valentine’s Day was going to go? Certainly not Dean.
Cas pulls back, a question in his eyes that Dean answers with a nod. He begins to move and Dean nearly comes from the first thrust.
Every movement is pure bliss.
The gentleness from before is replaced by a desperate, needy rhythm as Cas fucks into Dean hard.
Pressure builds in his abdomen. "Cas, you feel so good. I'm not gonna last."
Cas reaches between them, stroking Dean's dick with a lubed hand. The slick motion is all it takes.
Dean whites out, throwing his head back and letting the waves of pleasure overtake him.
It's like grabbing onto a comet, like shooting through the stars.
He lets out a sound that's half moan, half sob as his entire body clenches and warm wetness spurts onto his stomach.
Cas fucks him through it and beyond.
Dean shivers, savoring each thrust even as it makes him want to squirm.
He pulls Cas into a kiss, which devolves into Cas panting into his neck.
"Dean." Cas groans into Dean’s skin, wet heat and the slide of his dick making Dean whine.
He stutters and Dean feels him stiffen as he comes deep inside of him.
Cas collapses on Dean, paying no mind to the thin layer of sweat on their skin and the not so thin sticky layer of come.
Dean kisses him lazily, nibbling softly on his lips.
Cas pulls back, pressing his forehead against Dean's, his blue eyes searching Dean's, staring at him like some priceless gem he found in the dirt. "That was-"
Dean chuckles. "It sure was."
They stay like that for a minute, trading kisses as they come back down to Earth.
Eventually, Cas peels himself off and cleans them both with a wet washcloth.
Dean lays there, boneless and satisfied like a lazy cat in a sunbeam. He should get up and get dressed, but for the life of him he can't remember why.
Cas crawls into bed next him, slotting his body against Dean's and any motivation to move drops to zero.
Dean can't help but feel there's something he's forgetting, but Cas nuzzles into the spot where his shoulder meets his neck, and he forgets to care.
The light is fading when a banging on the door wakes them.
Cas sits up, his eyes squinting in confusion. The way his hair is sticking up at all angles is so cute, Dean nearly drags him back down.
Cas pulls on a shirt and boxers. "I'll be right back."
Dean casts his gaze around the room, realizing that unfortunately the only clothes he managed to make it down the hall with are his green panties.
Whoever is at the door probably isn't looking for dinner and a show.
Dean stands up, wrapping the sheet around him as he cracks the door open.
Maybe he can just sneak down the hall without-
A familiar voice stops him in his tracks.
Shit.
Dean tiptoes towards the studio. Maybe he can at least get his jeans.
"So help me, if you've murdered my best friend and buried him in the garden, I will cut you into pieces. Don't think I didn't see those suspiciously healthy sunflowers, Castiel. I will gut you like a…Dean?"
Dean stops, swiveling meekly. He raises a hand in greeting and immediately puts it back down as the sheet starts to slip.
"Um, hi Charlie."
She lets loose an inhuman sound that is a cross between a growl and a squeal.
She stalks down the hall, a finger raised. "Dean Winchester. You are lucky I love you and even luckier I have a hot date planned with Stevie tonight."
Dean plasters on his most charming smile. "Uh, sorry. I got a little distracted."
She snorts, punching him hard in the arm. "I thought I was going to have to give one of those sad interviews for a Netflix documentary about, like, the Boudoir Bludgeoner."
Dean laughs which earns him a severe glare, but he's known Charlie long enough to see the humor underneath.
He shrugs, knowing he'll pay for this, but it was definitely worth it.
"No bludgeoning. Just-"
She holds her hand up, waving to stop him. "Zzzt. I can very clearly see. I don't need the details now. Save it for brunch."
She pokes him in the chest. "You're buying."
Dean chuckles. "Bottomless mimosas and everything. I promise."
She looks back at Cas, a knowing smile on her lips. "Bring him, too. He's dreamy."
She walks over, looking up at him assessingly. "You must be Castiel. I'm Charlie."
She holds her hand out and he shakes it uncertainly.
"You can call me Cas. Sorry we worried you."
She looks up at him and tilts her head. "You'll make it up to me. Besides, I get the feeling we're gonna be best friends."
Charlie frowns thoughtfully. “Once you put on pants, of course." She pats him lightly on the shoulder. "See you Sunday."
She walks out the still open door without another word.
Cas looks at Dean shaking his head, a grin plastered across his face. "What just happened?"
Dean grins back, a lightness in his chest making him feel like he just might float away. "Charlie happened. She's pretty great when she's not accusing you of serial killing."
He walks over to Cas, wrapping his arms and the sheet around him. "So what now?"
Cas shakes his head fondly. "Up to you. I find myself free on this particular Valentine’s Day night and I think I'd like to spend it with this cute guy I met."
"Oh yeah?" Dean gives him a soft peck on the lips. "Well how about dinner and a movie?"
Cas smiles softly. "Pizza? I think I like your current state of dress and I have some ideas for more pictures later. You can pick something to watch before that."
Dean smiles back, his heart fluttering.
"How do you feel about Tombstone?"
