A Private Show (Supernatural, Dean/Cas, Voyeurism, Mature)
Title: A Private Show
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Content alert: voyeurism, exhibitionism, angst, protective Dean
Word count: about 1700
Notes: I originally posted this ANON to Blindfold SPN nearly six years ago. Wow. Time flies.
Dean doesn’t know that Sam knows, and Sam intends to keep it that way. It’s not because he’s overly worried that what Dean has with Castiel is too fragile to withstand Sam’s awareness. Dean’s fucking an angel and that’s never going to end any better than him screwing around with Ruby did. It’s practically on a countdown and what worries Sam is that neither his brother nor the angel seems to realise it.
Or if they do, neither cares and they’re still fucking like bunnies.
The reason Sam wants to keep his knowledge of this little disaster in the making to himself is that as long as his brother and his angelic fuck buddy don’t know that he knows, he gets a front row seat to the Dean ‘n’ Cas show. And boy, is it spectacular. It could sell more tickets then the Cirque Du Soleil.
Right now, Dean has Castiel naked. Dean himself is fully clothed, and he has Castiel on his back on the bed. He’s pushed the angel’s legs back and apart, and if that were a human, they’d be talking torn muscles and dislocated hips. But Cas is a sturdy bastard. He can take it.
He is taking it. Taking whatever Dean gives him, and Dean is pounding his way home like he’s trying to permanently embed his dick in Castiel. He can see the effort in Dean; his back gleams with sweat, and exhaustion is trembling through his muscles. But Dean’s a trooper. He keeps going and Castiel urges him on with a groan here, a plea there, and finally comes yelling Dean’s name.
Dean continues fucking the angel until he follows himself, and then pulls out. Sated, Sam would have thought but after weeks of this he knows better. Dean clambers up and slips his hand into Castiel’s hair and a moment later the angel is sucking Dean off like Jimmy used to be a porn star and muscle memory is just guiding him through.
Despite his determination to keep watching, Sam doesn’t see if Cas gets Dean hard again. He’s too busy jerking himself to completion, slumping against the wall by the door, and hoping Bobby doesn’t get back early from his trip into town. Cas could get himself and Dean cleaned up with a snap of his fingers, but since they don’t even know Sam’s out here, he’s going to have to rely on a wash cloth and detergent.
He finishes up and tucks himself away before Dean staggers out of the room. “Hey, Sammy,” he breathes, and wipes some sleep from his eyes. “Pancakes. Want some?”
Sam thinks it’s a miracle Dean can’t smell what he’s been up to, but then Deans no bank of lilies right now anyway. “Sure,” he manages, and watches his brother walk away, trying not to think that right now there’s probably an unsuspecting, very naked angel in the shower.
Fuck it, he thinks, and slips into the room. He can hear the water running, can hear Castiel moving around, and uses the noise as cover. He’s a good hunter, and he knows from the sly observance of his brother’s sex life that it takes more than just a hot shower to help Cas recover from Dean fucking him through the mattress.
If watching that was wrong, this could send him to Hell and without Lucifer going to the trouble of forcing a yes from him. But it doesn’t stop him moving past the bed, to where the bathroom door is just open enough.
Dean has mentioned it to Castiel before but the angel still leaves the shower curtain shoved back and there’s already a shallow puddle of water on the floor. He’s leaning against the wall, hands braced on the tiles, letting the water stream down his neck and back.
It’s absolutely not the first time Sam has seen him naked - it’s not the first time he’s seen him naked without Dean there, but stripping him to look for an infected vampire bite while Dean was recovering at Bobby’s definitely doesn’t count. But it’s as if God designed that vessel for Cas rather than Castiel choosing a human to help him.
Sam feels himself go hard again just watching the slope of Castiel’s spine, the tight ass and those legs. He never thought he’d spend a lot of time admiring a guy’s ass or legs but Castiel has shown him otherwise. And the best thing about it is that the angel doesn’t even know what he’s got there. If he ever catches anybody staring, he never lets that be the first explanation he thinks of. And that’s gotten the angel into a few tricky situations but then he’s always had them to get him back out. If need be.
But somehow Sam knows that if Cas catches him looking, the angel might put two and two together like a bear trap snapping shut and he might not have to worry about the embarrassment killing him. If Dean catches him looking....
His brother won’t kill him but he will kick the shit out of him and probably more than once.
“See something ya like, Sammy?”
Sam doesn’t twist around. He doesn’t jerk or flail or do anything except stand there and let the realisation of how fucked he is slowly sink into his gut like a bad sub.
When he finally turns to face Dean, he expects to see his brother’s fist come flying at him, but all he can notice is that Dean has a smug grin on his face. Sam isn’t sure if that’s better or worse. A smug Dean usually implies Sam is never going to hear the end of something, and that something will be dragged out and brandished over him at every given opportunity, possibly for the rest of his life.
Part of him wishes that Dean would just commence with the violence already. It at least will have closure.
But why hasn’t Dean done the ‘Dean’ thing yet? Sam knows for sure if that was his boyfriend in there, getting spied on, he’d already have gone to town on the guy.
“Maybe,” he says, and then wants to clamp his hands over his mouth. What the fuck? But it’s out in the open now, and hell - it’s obvious, isn’t it? What other reason would he have for watching Cas in the shower? I want to see if his wings wrinkle when they’re wet?
“Oh, more than maybe. You think I don’t know you’ve been watching us? I’m kinda hurt you thought you were slipping that one past me.”
“Or past us,” Castiel said.
Sam does spin around this time, and Castiel is facing him now. Still in the shower, water trailing in thick rivulets down his chest, across the flat stomach, heading for other parts. Sam feels his eyes following the path, and then jerks them back up to Castiel’s face when he hears Dean chuckle.
“We weren’t sure whether to call you on it or just wait you out. Figured at some point you’d give yourself away.”
Dean moves past him, stripping with ease as he approaches the shower. Castiel takes his hand, pulls him into the bath, and lands a kiss on him that looks almost as brutal and bruising as a punch. But Dean’s into it. He kisses Cas right back the same way, and pushes the angel into the tiles. Sam watches as Dean’s hands move across Castiel’s body, rough and possessing, like he wants to mark every inch of Castiel’s skin in some way.
When Dean’s hand closes on Castiel’s dick, Sam hears the angel curse under his breath, and Dean laughs. “I remember a time when you said I could never get you to curse.”
Castiel looks at him, eyes caught between annoyance and amusement. “That was before you began to have sexual intercourse with me. Therefore it’s unfair of you to continue to cast it up to me.”
Dean shrugs. He bends his neck to mouth at Castiel’s throat, and Sam wonders if Cas will let that mark remain a while or it will heal fast and be gone before the angel gets out of the shower.
He continues to watch as Dean jerks Cas off, hard and fast, drawing sounds from the angel that Sam has really never heard outside of the good porn that he will never ever admit to watching. He himself has been hard since the moment he knew he was going to spy on Cas in the shower. It’s not getting any easier, any less uncomfortable with his dick fighting for room in his jeans.
It’s not like they don’t know, anyway - he’s been watching them fuck. He’s watching his brother break Castiel just by giving him a hand job.
Sam gives in, figuring he might as well be damned all the way, and tugs down his zipper. Just the feel of his dick slipping out is nearly enough to cause tears of relief, but that’s nothing compared to when he fists himself, trying to match Dean’s pace. Somehow, he doesn’t want to get left behind.
Castiel comes with a cry that cracks the mirror and Dean has to catch him before he ends up in a boneless scuffed heap in the tub. Sam at least has the jamb to brace himself again as he follows, spurting over his hand. He rests there, breathless, loose, and manages to raise his head to look at the men in the shower.
Castiel is leaning on Dean, heavily, but Dean is taking it. He looks at Castiel and it’s strong, and it’s defiant, and it’s so much of a fucking challenge to anything that wants to split them apart that Sam hopes he never has to see what Dean’ll be like when the inevitable happens.
He reaches over and tugs the door shut, resting his forehead against it. There are some things he just can’t watch.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Content alert: voyeurism, exhibitionism, angst, protective Dean
Word count: about 1700
Notes: I originally posted this ANON to Blindfold SPN nearly six years ago. Wow. Time flies.
Dean doesn’t know that Sam knows, and Sam intends to keep it that way. It’s not because he’s overly worried that what Dean has with Castiel is too fragile to withstand Sam’s awareness. Dean’s fucking an angel and that’s never going to end any better than him screwing around with Ruby did. It’s practically on a countdown and what worries Sam is that neither his brother nor the angel seems to realise it.
Or if they do, neither cares and they’re still fucking like bunnies.
The reason Sam wants to keep his knowledge of this little disaster in the making to himself is that as long as his brother and his angelic fuck buddy don’t know that he knows, he gets a front row seat to the Dean ‘n’ Cas show. And boy, is it spectacular. It could sell more tickets then the Cirque Du Soleil.
Right now, Dean has Castiel naked. Dean himself is fully clothed, and he has Castiel on his back on the bed. He’s pushed the angel’s legs back and apart, and if that were a human, they’d be talking torn muscles and dislocated hips. But Cas is a sturdy bastard. He can take it.
He is taking it. Taking whatever Dean gives him, and Dean is pounding his way home like he’s trying to permanently embed his dick in Castiel. He can see the effort in Dean; his back gleams with sweat, and exhaustion is trembling through his muscles. But Dean’s a trooper. He keeps going and Castiel urges him on with a groan here, a plea there, and finally comes yelling Dean’s name.
Dean continues fucking the angel until he follows himself, and then pulls out. Sated, Sam would have thought but after weeks of this he knows better. Dean clambers up and slips his hand into Castiel’s hair and a moment later the angel is sucking Dean off like Jimmy used to be a porn star and muscle memory is just guiding him through.
Despite his determination to keep watching, Sam doesn’t see if Cas gets Dean hard again. He’s too busy jerking himself to completion, slumping against the wall by the door, and hoping Bobby doesn’t get back early from his trip into town. Cas could get himself and Dean cleaned up with a snap of his fingers, but since they don’t even know Sam’s out here, he’s going to have to rely on a wash cloth and detergent.
He finishes up and tucks himself away before Dean staggers out of the room. “Hey, Sammy,” he breathes, and wipes some sleep from his eyes. “Pancakes. Want some?”
Sam thinks it’s a miracle Dean can’t smell what he’s been up to, but then Deans no bank of lilies right now anyway. “Sure,” he manages, and watches his brother walk away, trying not to think that right now there’s probably an unsuspecting, very naked angel in the shower.
Fuck it, he thinks, and slips into the room. He can hear the water running, can hear Castiel moving around, and uses the noise as cover. He’s a good hunter, and he knows from the sly observance of his brother’s sex life that it takes more than just a hot shower to help Cas recover from Dean fucking him through the mattress.
If watching that was wrong, this could send him to Hell and without Lucifer going to the trouble of forcing a yes from him. But it doesn’t stop him moving past the bed, to where the bathroom door is just open enough.
Dean has mentioned it to Castiel before but the angel still leaves the shower curtain shoved back and there’s already a shallow puddle of water on the floor. He’s leaning against the wall, hands braced on the tiles, letting the water stream down his neck and back.
It’s absolutely not the first time Sam has seen him naked - it’s not the first time he’s seen him naked without Dean there, but stripping him to look for an infected vampire bite while Dean was recovering at Bobby’s definitely doesn’t count. But it’s as if God designed that vessel for Cas rather than Castiel choosing a human to help him.
Sam feels himself go hard again just watching the slope of Castiel’s spine, the tight ass and those legs. He never thought he’d spend a lot of time admiring a guy’s ass or legs but Castiel has shown him otherwise. And the best thing about it is that the angel doesn’t even know what he’s got there. If he ever catches anybody staring, he never lets that be the first explanation he thinks of. And that’s gotten the angel into a few tricky situations but then he’s always had them to get him back out. If need be.
But somehow Sam knows that if Cas catches him looking, the angel might put two and two together like a bear trap snapping shut and he might not have to worry about the embarrassment killing him. If Dean catches him looking....
His brother won’t kill him but he will kick the shit out of him and probably more than once.
“See something ya like, Sammy?”
Sam doesn’t twist around. He doesn’t jerk or flail or do anything except stand there and let the realisation of how fucked he is slowly sink into his gut like a bad sub.
When he finally turns to face Dean, he expects to see his brother’s fist come flying at him, but all he can notice is that Dean has a smug grin on his face. Sam isn’t sure if that’s better or worse. A smug Dean usually implies Sam is never going to hear the end of something, and that something will be dragged out and brandished over him at every given opportunity, possibly for the rest of his life.
Part of him wishes that Dean would just commence with the violence already. It at least will have closure.
But why hasn’t Dean done the ‘Dean’ thing yet? Sam knows for sure if that was his boyfriend in there, getting spied on, he’d already have gone to town on the guy.
“Maybe,” he says, and then wants to clamp his hands over his mouth. What the fuck? But it’s out in the open now, and hell - it’s obvious, isn’t it? What other reason would he have for watching Cas in the shower? I want to see if his wings wrinkle when they’re wet?
“Oh, more than maybe. You think I don’t know you’ve been watching us? I’m kinda hurt you thought you were slipping that one past me.”
“Or past us,” Castiel said.
Sam does spin around this time, and Castiel is facing him now. Still in the shower, water trailing in thick rivulets down his chest, across the flat stomach, heading for other parts. Sam feels his eyes following the path, and then jerks them back up to Castiel’s face when he hears Dean chuckle.
“We weren’t sure whether to call you on it or just wait you out. Figured at some point you’d give yourself away.”
Dean moves past him, stripping with ease as he approaches the shower. Castiel takes his hand, pulls him into the bath, and lands a kiss on him that looks almost as brutal and bruising as a punch. But Dean’s into it. He kisses Cas right back the same way, and pushes the angel into the tiles. Sam watches as Dean’s hands move across Castiel’s body, rough and possessing, like he wants to mark every inch of Castiel’s skin in some way.
When Dean’s hand closes on Castiel’s dick, Sam hears the angel curse under his breath, and Dean laughs. “I remember a time when you said I could never get you to curse.”
Castiel looks at him, eyes caught between annoyance and amusement. “That was before you began to have sexual intercourse with me. Therefore it’s unfair of you to continue to cast it up to me.”
Dean shrugs. He bends his neck to mouth at Castiel’s throat, and Sam wonders if Cas will let that mark remain a while or it will heal fast and be gone before the angel gets out of the shower.
He continues to watch as Dean jerks Cas off, hard and fast, drawing sounds from the angel that Sam has really never heard outside of the good porn that he will never ever admit to watching. He himself has been hard since the moment he knew he was going to spy on Cas in the shower. It’s not getting any easier, any less uncomfortable with his dick fighting for room in his jeans.
It’s not like they don’t know, anyway - he’s been watching them fuck. He’s watching his brother break Castiel just by giving him a hand job.
Sam gives in, figuring he might as well be damned all the way, and tugs down his zipper. Just the feel of his dick slipping out is nearly enough to cause tears of relief, but that’s nothing compared to when he fists himself, trying to match Dean’s pace. Somehow, he doesn’t want to get left behind.
Castiel comes with a cry that cracks the mirror and Dean has to catch him before he ends up in a boneless scuffed heap in the tub. Sam at least has the jamb to brace himself again as he follows, spurting over his hand. He rests there, breathless, loose, and manages to raise his head to look at the men in the shower.
Castiel is leaning on Dean, heavily, but Dean is taking it. He looks at Castiel and it’s strong, and it’s defiant, and it’s so much of a fucking challenge to anything that wants to split them apart that Sam hopes he never has to see what Dean’ll be like when the inevitable happens.
He reaches over and tugs the door shut, resting his forehead against it. There are some things he just can’t watch.