on the bright side, there isn't a bright side - 5
Okay, just two. But that’s it. Like maybe they went around the board so many times that they got through the whole Community Chest pile, and then Dean landed on Community Chest again and the get-out-of-jail-free card was back on top. Yeah. If they’ve gone around that many times, though, it must be almost game over, so this is the absolute last time.
Anyways. This is different than the previous session. Cas would probably never figure this out on his own, so it’s practically Dean’s duty as a friend to show him how it works. That’s what Dean tells himself, at least, as he scissors open the two fingers he’s currently got up Castiel’s ass.
It’s two weeks after that first time, and how they got here went something like this: the three of them had been out together earlier that morning, questioning witnesses in what looked like a fairly typical vengeful-spirit-type-deal. They’d talked to the local sheriff, the detective assigned to the case, a handful of witnesses with some friends and family of the victims thrown in there as well, the librarian in charge of local history. Then they’d headed back to their current motel to decide on a plan of action, at which point Sam discovered he’d lost his phone. So off he went, rather irritably, to retrace their entire morning in an attempt to find the damn thing, leaving Dean and Cas back at the motel to supposedly come up with something on their own.
That’s even how Dean started out, honestly; sure, there was a neon sign flashing on and off in big fat rainbow letters in his head reminding him of what happened last time the two of them were alone, but since it was probably the last thing on Cas’s mind right then he commandeered Sam’s laptop to pull up a floor-plan of the old apartment building where all three “accidents” had taken place. He was actually concentrating, too, taking note of the heating ducts and the supply closets and the basement and the elevator shafts, when Cas cleared his throat and said, “Dean, um…”
“Yeah?” Dean asked, only half listening. Garbage chutes on every floor, and even though all three of them are probably too big to fit it might be worth checking out anyhow, just in case.
“Uh…nothing, actually. Never mind.”
Dean’s eyes flicked up momentarily to look at him, sitting across the table packing rock salt into shotgun cartridges in case of any run-ins with the spirit. He was staring down intently at his work, apparently very focused; so Dean shrugged and said, “Okay,” before going back to his work.
Except every time he looked up after that Castiel’s eyes had skittered away nervously in a way that said clearly he’d been staring at Dean until Dean threatened to notice, and after a few minutes of that he happened to glance at the table in front of Cas where he could see Cas had only managed to assemble one more shell since he’d last checked. “Seriously, man, what’s up?” he asked.
“I…it’s nothing. Really.”
“C’mon, Cas.”
Cas still hesitated, apparently torn between embarrassment and desperately wanting to get out whatever was on his mind. Finally, face starting to flush red before he’d gotten three words out, he mumbled, “I was just wondering if you could, um… maybe, if you don’t mind, do that thing you did to me before.”
Dean stared at him. There was definitely no way Cas was asking for what Dean thought he was asking.
“Um,” said Cas.
“You mean the…?”
Cas nodded, clearly relieved not to have to explain any further. “If it’s not too much trouble. I can never seem to get it that way on my own, and…”
Cas eyed him hopefully, wearing almost the exact same expression he used when asking for a second hamburger at a restaurant (which, by the way, seemed to be becoming nearly as serious as Sam’s past addiction to demon blood, although hopefully with less Apocalyptic consequences). Dean opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again because what the hell was he supposed to do now? He’d sworn that was going to be the first and last time it happened, that he’d never bring the matter up again except in the privacy of his own head-and he probably wouldn’t have, either, since he only had to make it a few more months before the world ended anyhow. But clearly it had been just as memorable for Cas as it had been for Dean, and if Cas was the one asking for it…well. It was just another favour, right? Just another chance for Dean to help his friend out with being human, and since Cas had kind of fallen thanks to him in the first place, how could he refuse?
“Okay,” he said, and tried to stamp out the little burst of excitement that flared even higher when Cas’s eyes lit up. “But let’s try something else this time. Maybe it’ll work better for you. Toss me that bag, would you?”
The expectation in Cas’s expression was quickly replaced by anxiety. “Really? What you did before was fine, you don’t have to…”
“Just toss me the bag, Cas,” Dean said firmly. He had to have some excuse to tell himself, some made-up reason that this wasn’t going to turn into him fucking his best friend all the time. Sam definitely considered getting Cas acquainted with various sex toys important since he had bought the things in the first place-Dean was just doing his part to help out as well.
He dug through, trying to ignore all the partner stuff (clearly Sam had been so busy focusing on Cas’s burgeoning sexuality he’d totally overlooked the guy’s complete social ineptitude), and finally settled on a vibrator. It was blue and black, to make it distinctly Manly, and not so large that it would be excruciating for a first time. Sam had been thoughtful enough to get lube as well, which was handy; speaking from experience, no matter how sexy whatever substitute was settled on sounded at the time, it inevitably became far less sexy when you were getting ridden so hard you could practically smell the condom rubber burning.
“Are you sure?” Cas asked, peering apprehensively over Dean’s shoulder. “It looks kind of…”
“Cas. You think what w-what I did last time was good? That was just the tip of the iceberg, man,” Dean said soothingly. In truth he was feeling more than a little tense himself-it had been a very, very long time since he’d been on either end of anything like this. “You gotta trust me.”
“I trust you.”
He ignored the random surge of panic those words, and the way they were spoken, caused, and instead just said, “Okay, well, um… strip down and get on the bed, I guess.”
Cas obeyed willingly and Dean tried not watch, except that he did watch out of the corner of his eye, of course, as if somehow he could hide the fact that he was watching from himself. Deep breaths, he told himself. This is fine. It’s no big deal. Just another favour for a friend. A really good-looking, really naked, extremely fuckable friend. Stay professional. Or whatever.
“Any time you want me to stop just say,” he instructed, just like he’d done the first time, and Cas nodded.
“It’ll be a little uncomfortable at first, but it gets better.” In one hand he took Cas’s cock, pulling in slow, gentle strokes designed just to get him tingling a little. Cas closed his eyes, head rolling over to one side slightly where he lay on his back and a lazy smile playing across his face; Dean was almost tempted to give it to him like this, the way he’d asked originally-except no, that didn’t fit with his whole showing-Cas-the-ropes bullshit and also he actually kind of really wanted to do this to him.
Which is basically how he ended up where he is now, one hesitant finger, a generous amount of lube, and an even more generous amount of comforting words later: two fingers knuckle-deep inside his best friend, gently stretching him out since aside from the metaphorical poker Dean’s often noted Cas has never had anything up his ass before. He adds a third, just to be sure, and when Cas is good and stretched out he crooks his fingers, since so far Cas still appears rather dubious and he wants to give him a taste of the merits of this particular method before sticking anything else up there and it takes a few minutes of awkward searching while Cas watches him with an extremely unimpressed expression but then oh, okay, there we go-
Cas makes a surprised noise, and Dean can see his fingers clutching at the bedspread beneath him as he tries to wriggle himself back into the position where Dean’s fingers have gotten something buzzing inside him. “Dean…”
“Uh-uh,” says Dean, grinning. “Just wait.” His fingers slip out, still sticky with lube, and his other hand stops its attentive rubbing, also sticky from the pre-come already leaking from the tip.
“No, what are you…you can’t just stop, please, Dean-”
“Relax. It’s okay, Cas, I got you…” He knows he ought to be ashamed of how much he likes this, how much he likes having Cas depend on him like this, pleading for more whenever he stops, because this is for Cas, remember, not for him; except right now he’s too high to care. High on the power of being able to do this to Cas, high on the sight of the guy (completely naked this time, which is fucking awesome) squirming on the bed, high on the fact that holy shit two seconds ago he literally had one hand around his cock and the other inside him.
He slicks up the vibrator, maybe a little more slowly than he has to so that he can smirk at the way it teases Cas; then he slides it in, still slow, still loving the way Cas is pleading. No hand on his cock this time since both are concentrated on the vibrator, on adjusting it until he sees Cas’s hands grabbing at the bedspread again and he knows it’s right against his prostate. He pretends to adjust it a little bit more anyways, just to see the way Cas’s head presses deeper into the mattress as it rubs that spot inside him.
“I’m gonna turn it on now-only for a second, so you can see what it feels like and then if you don’t like it we’ll stop. Sound good?”
“Yes-”
So Dean turns it onto the lowest setting possible, and Cas’s whole body jerks up off the bed as if it’s been electrified. He flicks it off again just as quickly, even though it’s pretty damn clear Cas definitely liked it, and asks innocently, “How was that? I can leave if off if you don’t-”
“No,” Cas growls.
“Sure? It’s not a problem-”
“Turn it back on, Dean.” The way he says it, the authority and power and whatever, reminds Dean that Cas might be a human right now, a kind of ridiculous human who can’t turn the shower on without help and apparently can’t jerk off without help either and never wants to eat anything except burgers-but before this he was an angel. Before he could burn your face off without even touching you, or drag your broken soul out of Hell and put your body back together around it. Maybe Dean’s been telling himself that this weird attraction thing is recent, that it’s just a result of spending so much time around a pretty good-looking guy when he hasn’t been getting enough sex elsewhere. The truth is, though, all that power-the way he’d walk into a room, or more often just appear, and the way he’d fight demons like it was nothing, and the way he’d get right up in Dean’s space when Dean was being a bitch-well, all that got Dean kind of hot then, too.
“Okay,” says Dean. He clicks it back up to the first setting and Cas lets out a low, throaty moan, and all he has to say about this is that Cas may think Dean sucks for teasing him like that but the truth is Cas is the biggest, most clueless cocktease the world has to offer. Jesus. He’s just grinding down into Dean’s hand, body lifting off the bed slightly when he arches his back with each new wave of pleasure; neither of them is touching his cock, which is still sticking up hot and hard, and this would undoubtedly go faster if Dean started multitasking again but he really, really wants to see if he can get Cas off just like this. Besides, this way leaves one hand free to palm his own aching crotch through his jeans because this is so fucking stupid but watching Cas get off is almost as good as Dean fucking the guy himself (not that he’d know, and not that he ever will know, so there technically isn’t any basis for comparison; but his cock is so hard right now it practically hurts).
“More,” Cas gasps, and Dean turns it up a notch higher and fuck, if Cas doesn’t come soon Dean’s going to beat him to it despite the fact that this is still supposedly just a favour.
And finally, thank God fucking finally, just when Dean’s eyes are starting to fucking water from being so turned on and not being able to anything about it, the piece of plastic vibrating against his prostate manages to squeeze an orgasm out of Cas without anyone touching his dick-except maybe squeeze isn’t the right word because it basically looks like someone took an mind-blowing, life-altering orgasm and just blatantly beat him over the head with it, which doesn’t make a lot of sense but Dean’s kind of having trouble thinking in a straight line right now, or even just thinking at all, and fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck keep it together, come on, fuck, FUCK-
Shit.
Well, at least he won’t have to worry about hiding his boner from Cas, or from Sam when Sam gets back, which could be any minute.
Also, he’s going to need a new pair of underwear. And pants. And possibly socks too, if he doesn’t hurry up.
He pulls the vibrator out as quickly as he can while still trying to be gentle and mutters, “Gimme a sec.”
“Hmmm,” Cas agrees vaguely. Dean figures he’s got a few minutes before the post-orgasm bliss fades enough for Cas to actually focus on anything.
Grabbing some clean clothes from his bag he heads to the bathroom to strip down, and he can feel his face burning when he’s eventually forced to acknowledge the fact that yes, he literally did just cream his pants. From assisting his supposedly platonic (yeah, right) best friend get off. Which was not supposed to do anything at all for him. Because he didn’t even suggest it this time, it was Cas’s idea, he was just going along with it since apparently human-Cas is one horny son-of-a-bitch and oh, God, this whole thing is a mess and he’s not just talking about his pants here. Why the hell did he ever think it was a good idea to volunteer himself for this in the first place?
By the time he’s dressed and stuck his dirty clothes at the very bottom of their laundry pile and cleaned off the vibrator and shoved all that stuff back in the bag which in turn has been shoved back under the bed, Cas seems to have pretty much recovered.
“Wow,” he says, using the cloth Dean tosses him to wipe himself down. “That was… wow.”
Dean grunts a less-than-enthusiastic response. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that even though his dick wasn’t actually, physically touching Cas in any way and definitely wasn’t up his ass, they both enjoyed it so much he’s being forced to admit that they basically just had some sort of weird messed-up sex. It’s kind of hard to file the incident away with where he’d managed to stick the last one under “friendly assisted masturbation” when both parties involved ended up getting off.
Cas, however, hasn’t noticed anything wrong. “Thanks,” he adds fervently. “I-”
“Don’t,” Dean snaps.
“What?” Cas stares at him in surprise. Admittedly it’s fairly justified surprise, since Dean was a perfectly willing participant and it’s not like he can see inside Dean’s head anymore, or at least Dean really hopes he can’t.
“Just…don’t, okay? Don’t thank me.”
“I didn’t mean… I just wanted to…” He’s still regarding Dean anxiously, a few steps closer now because Cas wouldn’t be Cas if he had any concept of personal space. It’s almost like he’s compensating for his lack of ability to read body language by getting up super close, like maybe being two inches from someone’s face makes it easier to read what they’re not saying out loud. “Are you angry? Why are you angry?”
“I’m not angry,” Dean says, in what is probably the least convincing not-angry voice in the universe. He is angry, just not with Cas. Well, not tenably angry with Cas, at least, since it’s not actually fair to be mad at someone just for existing and being attractive and wanting sex and asking for something you offered in the first place and trusting you. Mostly just angry with himself for being such a fuck-up.
“I’m not angry,” he repeats. It doesn’t sound any more convincing the second time. “I-can you just-you know what, never mind. Just ignore me.”
“But-”
“Just ignore me, okay?”
“…okay.” And now he can tell Cas is going to mope like a puppy that just got kicked, which will make Dean feel worse about himself which will make his mood even worse as well, and all in all it’s a huge fucking relief when Sam walks through the door proudly holding his phone in front of him.
“It was at the Turners’ house,” Sam declares, as if this is some stunning revelation that should have them all on the edge of their seats. “I guess it must have fallen out of my pocket when I was sitting on the couch. They didn’t even notice until I came back, so I didn’t have to explain why Agent Simpson has a phone in the name of Sam Winchester. Anyways.” For the first time he takes in Dean, glowering at the screen of Sam’s laptop, and Cas, across the table from him morosely drawing shapes in a pile of spilled salt. “Uh, is everything…?”
“Everything’s fine,” Dean says, rising from his seat abruptly. He shrugs on his jacket, grabs a gun, and as he’s heading past Sam out the door adds, “C’mon, let’s go fuck shit up.”
Inside he hears Sam ask Cas what’s going on. For a moment he freezes, wondering if Cas is just going to tell Sam everything because he doesn’t not to; but evidently Cas is getting a hang of this much better than Dean had thought, or maybe he just wants to work out for himself what he did to upset Dean before sharing anything with Sam, because Dean catches a suggested, “Cabin fever?” from Cas. It’s not entirely unreasonable, considering how recently Dean’s been let off bed rest, and it’s also not like Sam isn’t used to Dean being moody, so by the time they’re all in the car on the way over to take care of this ghost the issue seems to have been dropped.
Because the entire universe is apparently out to fuck with him, it is of course his night to share a bed with Cas. He lies on his side of the bed staring up at the ceiling long after everyone else has fallen asleep, listening to the rhythmic sound of Cas’s breathing beside him mixed with, a little quieter since he’s farther away, Sam’s in the next bed. He tells himself it’s not that bad, not really, since it’s not like the BFB siutation is a surprise to him or something he’s particularly in denial about (in his own head, at least), so obviously seeing Cas like that, getting to do that to Cas, is going have a serious effect on his ability to control his dick. So that’s okay, and as long as Cas didn’t notice-and Dean is, like, ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure this is indeed the case-and as long as Sam doesn’t find out either and start thinking Dean’s in love (ugh, Sam) then Dean’s doing okay, right? Right.
…right?
How come he’s still awake, then?
Well, whatever. It doesn’t matter, because that may make two times more than expected, but it is absolutely the absolute last time. No more charitable hand-jobs, no more Anal Vibrators 101, no more anything that is in any tiny possible way even slightly sexual. He could, like, maybe be persuaded to buy the guy some condoms against the staggering odds of Cas actually managing to get that far with anyone (besides Dean, that is. Shut up, brain). Maybe. Though Sam would probably be so ecstatic he’d go out and buy fifty different kinds himself to give to Cas, so Dean wouldn’t even have to worry about it. But this, this basically having sex with Cas, this has to stop. Never again.
Continue...
Anyways. This is different than the previous session. Cas would probably never figure this out on his own, so it’s practically Dean’s duty as a friend to show him how it works. That’s what Dean tells himself, at least, as he scissors open the two fingers he’s currently got up Castiel’s ass.
It’s two weeks after that first time, and how they got here went something like this: the three of them had been out together earlier that morning, questioning witnesses in what looked like a fairly typical vengeful-spirit-type-deal. They’d talked to the local sheriff, the detective assigned to the case, a handful of witnesses with some friends and family of the victims thrown in there as well, the librarian in charge of local history. Then they’d headed back to their current motel to decide on a plan of action, at which point Sam discovered he’d lost his phone. So off he went, rather irritably, to retrace their entire morning in an attempt to find the damn thing, leaving Dean and Cas back at the motel to supposedly come up with something on their own.
That’s even how Dean started out, honestly; sure, there was a neon sign flashing on and off in big fat rainbow letters in his head reminding him of what happened last time the two of them were alone, but since it was probably the last thing on Cas’s mind right then he commandeered Sam’s laptop to pull up a floor-plan of the old apartment building where all three “accidents” had taken place. He was actually concentrating, too, taking note of the heating ducts and the supply closets and the basement and the elevator shafts, when Cas cleared his throat and said, “Dean, um…”
“Yeah?” Dean asked, only half listening. Garbage chutes on every floor, and even though all three of them are probably too big to fit it might be worth checking out anyhow, just in case.
“Uh…nothing, actually. Never mind.”
Dean’s eyes flicked up momentarily to look at him, sitting across the table packing rock salt into shotgun cartridges in case of any run-ins with the spirit. He was staring down intently at his work, apparently very focused; so Dean shrugged and said, “Okay,” before going back to his work.
Except every time he looked up after that Castiel’s eyes had skittered away nervously in a way that said clearly he’d been staring at Dean until Dean threatened to notice, and after a few minutes of that he happened to glance at the table in front of Cas where he could see Cas had only managed to assemble one more shell since he’d last checked. “Seriously, man, what’s up?” he asked.
“I…it’s nothing. Really.”
“C’mon, Cas.”
Cas still hesitated, apparently torn between embarrassment and desperately wanting to get out whatever was on his mind. Finally, face starting to flush red before he’d gotten three words out, he mumbled, “I was just wondering if you could, um… maybe, if you don’t mind, do that thing you did to me before.”
Dean stared at him. There was definitely no way Cas was asking for what Dean thought he was asking.
“Um,” said Cas.
“You mean the…?”
Cas nodded, clearly relieved not to have to explain any further. “If it’s not too much trouble. I can never seem to get it that way on my own, and…”
Cas eyed him hopefully, wearing almost the exact same expression he used when asking for a second hamburger at a restaurant (which, by the way, seemed to be becoming nearly as serious as Sam’s past addiction to demon blood, although hopefully with less Apocalyptic consequences). Dean opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again because what the hell was he supposed to do now? He’d sworn that was going to be the first and last time it happened, that he’d never bring the matter up again except in the privacy of his own head-and he probably wouldn’t have, either, since he only had to make it a few more months before the world ended anyhow. But clearly it had been just as memorable for Cas as it had been for Dean, and if Cas was the one asking for it…well. It was just another favour, right? Just another chance for Dean to help his friend out with being human, and since Cas had kind of fallen thanks to him in the first place, how could he refuse?
“Okay,” he said, and tried to stamp out the little burst of excitement that flared even higher when Cas’s eyes lit up. “But let’s try something else this time. Maybe it’ll work better for you. Toss me that bag, would you?”
The expectation in Cas’s expression was quickly replaced by anxiety. “Really? What you did before was fine, you don’t have to…”
“Just toss me the bag, Cas,” Dean said firmly. He had to have some excuse to tell himself, some made-up reason that this wasn’t going to turn into him fucking his best friend all the time. Sam definitely considered getting Cas acquainted with various sex toys important since he had bought the things in the first place-Dean was just doing his part to help out as well.
He dug through, trying to ignore all the partner stuff (clearly Sam had been so busy focusing on Cas’s burgeoning sexuality he’d totally overlooked the guy’s complete social ineptitude), and finally settled on a vibrator. It was blue and black, to make it distinctly Manly, and not so large that it would be excruciating for a first time. Sam had been thoughtful enough to get lube as well, which was handy; speaking from experience, no matter how sexy whatever substitute was settled on sounded at the time, it inevitably became far less sexy when you were getting ridden so hard you could practically smell the condom rubber burning.
“Are you sure?” Cas asked, peering apprehensively over Dean’s shoulder. “It looks kind of…”
“Cas. You think what w-what I did last time was good? That was just the tip of the iceberg, man,” Dean said soothingly. In truth he was feeling more than a little tense himself-it had been a very, very long time since he’d been on either end of anything like this. “You gotta trust me.”
“I trust you.”
He ignored the random surge of panic those words, and the way they were spoken, caused, and instead just said, “Okay, well, um… strip down and get on the bed, I guess.”
Cas obeyed willingly and Dean tried not watch, except that he did watch out of the corner of his eye, of course, as if somehow he could hide the fact that he was watching from himself. Deep breaths, he told himself. This is fine. It’s no big deal. Just another favour for a friend. A really good-looking, really naked, extremely fuckable friend. Stay professional. Or whatever.
“Any time you want me to stop just say,” he instructed, just like he’d done the first time, and Cas nodded.
“It’ll be a little uncomfortable at first, but it gets better.” In one hand he took Cas’s cock, pulling in slow, gentle strokes designed just to get him tingling a little. Cas closed his eyes, head rolling over to one side slightly where he lay on his back and a lazy smile playing across his face; Dean was almost tempted to give it to him like this, the way he’d asked originally-except no, that didn’t fit with his whole showing-Cas-the-ropes bullshit and also he actually kind of really wanted to do this to him.
Which is basically how he ended up where he is now, one hesitant finger, a generous amount of lube, and an even more generous amount of comforting words later: two fingers knuckle-deep inside his best friend, gently stretching him out since aside from the metaphorical poker Dean’s often noted Cas has never had anything up his ass before. He adds a third, just to be sure, and when Cas is good and stretched out he crooks his fingers, since so far Cas still appears rather dubious and he wants to give him a taste of the merits of this particular method before sticking anything else up there and it takes a few minutes of awkward searching while Cas watches him with an extremely unimpressed expression but then oh, okay, there we go-
Cas makes a surprised noise, and Dean can see his fingers clutching at the bedspread beneath him as he tries to wriggle himself back into the position where Dean’s fingers have gotten something buzzing inside him. “Dean…”
“Uh-uh,” says Dean, grinning. “Just wait.” His fingers slip out, still sticky with lube, and his other hand stops its attentive rubbing, also sticky from the pre-come already leaking from the tip.
“No, what are you…you can’t just stop, please, Dean-”
“Relax. It’s okay, Cas, I got you…” He knows he ought to be ashamed of how much he likes this, how much he likes having Cas depend on him like this, pleading for more whenever he stops, because this is for Cas, remember, not for him; except right now he’s too high to care. High on the power of being able to do this to Cas, high on the sight of the guy (completely naked this time, which is fucking awesome) squirming on the bed, high on the fact that holy shit two seconds ago he literally had one hand around his cock and the other inside him.
He slicks up the vibrator, maybe a little more slowly than he has to so that he can smirk at the way it teases Cas; then he slides it in, still slow, still loving the way Cas is pleading. No hand on his cock this time since both are concentrated on the vibrator, on adjusting it until he sees Cas’s hands grabbing at the bedspread again and he knows it’s right against his prostate. He pretends to adjust it a little bit more anyways, just to see the way Cas’s head presses deeper into the mattress as it rubs that spot inside him.
“I’m gonna turn it on now-only for a second, so you can see what it feels like and then if you don’t like it we’ll stop. Sound good?”
“Yes-”
So Dean turns it onto the lowest setting possible, and Cas’s whole body jerks up off the bed as if it’s been electrified. He flicks it off again just as quickly, even though it’s pretty damn clear Cas definitely liked it, and asks innocently, “How was that? I can leave if off if you don’t-”
“No,” Cas growls.
“Sure? It’s not a problem-”
“Turn it back on, Dean.” The way he says it, the authority and power and whatever, reminds Dean that Cas might be a human right now, a kind of ridiculous human who can’t turn the shower on without help and apparently can’t jerk off without help either and never wants to eat anything except burgers-but before this he was an angel. Before he could burn your face off without even touching you, or drag your broken soul out of Hell and put your body back together around it. Maybe Dean’s been telling himself that this weird attraction thing is recent, that it’s just a result of spending so much time around a pretty good-looking guy when he hasn’t been getting enough sex elsewhere. The truth is, though, all that power-the way he’d walk into a room, or more often just appear, and the way he’d fight demons like it was nothing, and the way he’d get right up in Dean’s space when Dean was being a bitch-well, all that got Dean kind of hot then, too.
“Okay,” says Dean. He clicks it back up to the first setting and Cas lets out a low, throaty moan, and all he has to say about this is that Cas may think Dean sucks for teasing him like that but the truth is Cas is the biggest, most clueless cocktease the world has to offer. Jesus. He’s just grinding down into Dean’s hand, body lifting off the bed slightly when he arches his back with each new wave of pleasure; neither of them is touching his cock, which is still sticking up hot and hard, and this would undoubtedly go faster if Dean started multitasking again but he really, really wants to see if he can get Cas off just like this. Besides, this way leaves one hand free to palm his own aching crotch through his jeans because this is so fucking stupid but watching Cas get off is almost as good as Dean fucking the guy himself (not that he’d know, and not that he ever will know, so there technically isn’t any basis for comparison; but his cock is so hard right now it practically hurts).
“More,” Cas gasps, and Dean turns it up a notch higher and fuck, if Cas doesn’t come soon Dean’s going to beat him to it despite the fact that this is still supposedly just a favour.
And finally, thank God fucking finally, just when Dean’s eyes are starting to fucking water from being so turned on and not being able to anything about it, the piece of plastic vibrating against his prostate manages to squeeze an orgasm out of Cas without anyone touching his dick-except maybe squeeze isn’t the right word because it basically looks like someone took an mind-blowing, life-altering orgasm and just blatantly beat him over the head with it, which doesn’t make a lot of sense but Dean’s kind of having trouble thinking in a straight line right now, or even just thinking at all, and fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck keep it together, come on, fuck, FUCK-
Shit.
Well, at least he won’t have to worry about hiding his boner from Cas, or from Sam when Sam gets back, which could be any minute.
Also, he’s going to need a new pair of underwear. And pants. And possibly socks too, if he doesn’t hurry up.
He pulls the vibrator out as quickly as he can while still trying to be gentle and mutters, “Gimme a sec.”
“Hmmm,” Cas agrees vaguely. Dean figures he’s got a few minutes before the post-orgasm bliss fades enough for Cas to actually focus on anything.
Grabbing some clean clothes from his bag he heads to the bathroom to strip down, and he can feel his face burning when he’s eventually forced to acknowledge the fact that yes, he literally did just cream his pants. From assisting his supposedly platonic (yeah, right) best friend get off. Which was not supposed to do anything at all for him. Because he didn’t even suggest it this time, it was Cas’s idea, he was just going along with it since apparently human-Cas is one horny son-of-a-bitch and oh, God, this whole thing is a mess and he’s not just talking about his pants here. Why the hell did he ever think it was a good idea to volunteer himself for this in the first place?
By the time he’s dressed and stuck his dirty clothes at the very bottom of their laundry pile and cleaned off the vibrator and shoved all that stuff back in the bag which in turn has been shoved back under the bed, Cas seems to have pretty much recovered.
“Wow,” he says, using the cloth Dean tosses him to wipe himself down. “That was… wow.”
Dean grunts a less-than-enthusiastic response. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that even though his dick wasn’t actually, physically touching Cas in any way and definitely wasn’t up his ass, they both enjoyed it so much he’s being forced to admit that they basically just had some sort of weird messed-up sex. It’s kind of hard to file the incident away with where he’d managed to stick the last one under “friendly assisted masturbation” when both parties involved ended up getting off.
Cas, however, hasn’t noticed anything wrong. “Thanks,” he adds fervently. “I-”
“Don’t,” Dean snaps.
“What?” Cas stares at him in surprise. Admittedly it’s fairly justified surprise, since Dean was a perfectly willing participant and it’s not like he can see inside Dean’s head anymore, or at least Dean really hopes he can’t.
“Just…don’t, okay? Don’t thank me.”
“I didn’t mean… I just wanted to…” He’s still regarding Dean anxiously, a few steps closer now because Cas wouldn’t be Cas if he had any concept of personal space. It’s almost like he’s compensating for his lack of ability to read body language by getting up super close, like maybe being two inches from someone’s face makes it easier to read what they’re not saying out loud. “Are you angry? Why are you angry?”
“I’m not angry,” Dean says, in what is probably the least convincing not-angry voice in the universe. He is angry, just not with Cas. Well, not tenably angry with Cas, at least, since it’s not actually fair to be mad at someone just for existing and being attractive and wanting sex and asking for something you offered in the first place and trusting you. Mostly just angry with himself for being such a fuck-up.
“I’m not angry,” he repeats. It doesn’t sound any more convincing the second time. “I-can you just-you know what, never mind. Just ignore me.”
“But-”
“Just ignore me, okay?”
“…okay.” And now he can tell Cas is going to mope like a puppy that just got kicked, which will make Dean feel worse about himself which will make his mood even worse as well, and all in all it’s a huge fucking relief when Sam walks through the door proudly holding his phone in front of him.
“It was at the Turners’ house,” Sam declares, as if this is some stunning revelation that should have them all on the edge of their seats. “I guess it must have fallen out of my pocket when I was sitting on the couch. They didn’t even notice until I came back, so I didn’t have to explain why Agent Simpson has a phone in the name of Sam Winchester. Anyways.” For the first time he takes in Dean, glowering at the screen of Sam’s laptop, and Cas, across the table from him morosely drawing shapes in a pile of spilled salt. “Uh, is everything…?”
“Everything’s fine,” Dean says, rising from his seat abruptly. He shrugs on his jacket, grabs a gun, and as he’s heading past Sam out the door adds, “C’mon, let’s go fuck shit up.”
Inside he hears Sam ask Cas what’s going on. For a moment he freezes, wondering if Cas is just going to tell Sam everything because he doesn’t not to; but evidently Cas is getting a hang of this much better than Dean had thought, or maybe he just wants to work out for himself what he did to upset Dean before sharing anything with Sam, because Dean catches a suggested, “Cabin fever?” from Cas. It’s not entirely unreasonable, considering how recently Dean’s been let off bed rest, and it’s also not like Sam isn’t used to Dean being moody, so by the time they’re all in the car on the way over to take care of this ghost the issue seems to have been dropped.
Because the entire universe is apparently out to fuck with him, it is of course his night to share a bed with Cas. He lies on his side of the bed staring up at the ceiling long after everyone else has fallen asleep, listening to the rhythmic sound of Cas’s breathing beside him mixed with, a little quieter since he’s farther away, Sam’s in the next bed. He tells himself it’s not that bad, not really, since it’s not like the BFB siutation is a surprise to him or something he’s particularly in denial about (in his own head, at least), so obviously seeing Cas like that, getting to do that to Cas, is going have a serious effect on his ability to control his dick. So that’s okay, and as long as Cas didn’t notice-and Dean is, like, ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure this is indeed the case-and as long as Sam doesn’t find out either and start thinking Dean’s in love (ugh, Sam) then Dean’s doing okay, right? Right.
…right?
How come he’s still awake, then?
Well, whatever. It doesn’t matter, because that may make two times more than expected, but it is absolutely the absolute last time. No more charitable hand-jobs, no more Anal Vibrators 101, no more anything that is in any tiny possible way even slightly sexual. He could, like, maybe be persuaded to buy the guy some condoms against the staggering odds of Cas actually managing to get that far with anyone (besides Dean, that is. Shut up, brain). Maybe. Though Sam would probably be so ecstatic he’d go out and buy fifty different kinds himself to give to Cas, so Dean wouldn’t even have to worry about it. But this, this basically having sex with Cas, this has to stop. Never again.
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