Santorum will pry my porn from my cold dead hands part 3
The new update for this story -
Castiel comes over the next day, and interrupts Dean’s constant rechecking of the website, where their second video is already on 500,000 views, and climbing rapidly. It makes Dean slightly uncomfortable, not the popularity of the videos, but the comments that accompany the hits. Some are awesome, mostly people drooling over how hot they are together, basically what you’d want to hear if you’d put a naked video of yourself up on the internet.
Some of them though, were kind of creepy, especially the guy (Dean hoped it was a guy, preferably one who lived really really far away- like in Siberia, or on Venus) who wrote quite graphically about wanting to fuck Cas’s ‘pure little virgin ass’ with an axe handle.
Dean had flagged that one for removal. Then fought the urge to burn his computer, and the internet for good measure.
There were also the less creepy comments that still made him uncomfortable, because they’d come through Gabriel’s brilliant ‘new’ invention - the suggestion box.
Oh yes, visitors to Gabriel’s site could now offer suggestions for their favourite partners, and boy, they were not shy about doing so. Dean hadn’t had so many strangers telling him what to do with his junk since they’d lectured about testicular cancer at his high school.
He showed some of them to Castiel, and watched as the other man’s eyebrows reached his hairline (proving that he was indeed a blood relative of Gabriel’s).
“They’re not all so bad,” Castiel said, after a while, “quite a few people think we should kiss. That seems do-able.”
“So we’re just going to tactfully not mention the...4983 people who think I should play catcher?”
Castiel looked at him, “The definition of tact is not mentioning when 4983 people say anything that you feel would upset the person you’re standing next to.”
Dean glared at him. “You’re sitting down.”
Castiel muttered something under his breath and went back to looking at the computer.
“Oh,” he said after a while, “It seems my ass’s virginal status has been exaggerated...and I really hope Axeman46 lives very far away.”
“Oh for - I thought I’d gotten that taken down.”
“Sparing my feelings?” Castiel said pointedly.
Dean went to prepare lunch, not willing to concede the point.
“I suppose we should take note of some of the suggestions,” Castiel called through to him, “try and keep up with the market.”
Coming out to the kitchen, Castiel opened the spiral bound pad and writes neatly across the first page - Porn Ideas For Castiel And Dean.
“Don’t you think it should be a little more...cryptic?” Dean said, putting coffee and plates of sandwiches on the table and taking a seat. “In case we get indicted?”
“Hmmm...” Castiel tears out that page and re-heads the next with - Not Porn Ideas For Castiel and Dean.
“You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”
Castiel’s smile was slight, but changed his entire face, making him look about fifteen, and in possession of a dirty secret. “Yes.”
Dean rolls his eyes and takes a seat. “What are these ideas then?”
“Things we can do, you know, so no one gets bored of watching. Typical niches, themes, characters...” He tapped his pen on the pad, “Porn is difficult to keep interesting, because it’s the same thing, every time, or nearly the same. We have to keep up with our audience.”
“I am not dressing up as an Indian, a construction worker, or a cop.”
Castiel gave him an icy stare. “Native American.”
He felt like he was being chastised by a teacher. “Sorry.”
“And I don’t know where you got those ideas from, but they’re not exactly things that I’d pay to see, personally.” He sniffed.
Dean looked at him, “You’re seriously the only gay guy who has no idea who the village people are, aren’t you?”
Castiel’s brow creased, and he looked concerned for Dean’s mental health. “Who?”
“Wow,” Dean sipped his coffee, “so, go on, tell me what these great ideas of yours are.”
Castiel proceeded to outline quite a number of ideas, most of which made Dean as nervous as when his Dad had taken him to his first assault course. It was the exact stomach flipping sensation he’d had right before he’d abseiled for the first time.
Castiel’s ideas ranged from different positions (complete with tiny stick figure drawings, where Dean confused an arm with a dick and nearly had a heart attack) to different locations (Dean vetoed the idea of doing it in his kitchen, and Castiel offered his apartment instead - he even promised to clean under his fridge for the occasion, which seemed unnecessary, but Dean appreciated the offer at least). He also noted down a few kinks that they could try and include, from bondage (which Dean had never really had a taste for, and anyway, the smell of leather always reminded him of his Dad’s jacket, which was hardly a boost for the libido) to feet (Ok, Cas had nice feet, Dean wasn’t going to dispute that) to cross dressing (NO - flat out.) and food (always accepted).
Dean fiddles with scraps of torn paper and clears his throat before saying, “And...uh...I’ll, you know...work on my, participation.”
Castiel raises an eyebrow.
Dean flushes. “I mean, I’ll work up to...”
“Actually involving yourself?”
“Hey, I touched your dick.” Dean exclaims, louder than he means to, and with an aggressive point towards Castiel’s crotch.
Castiel pats his hand reassuringly. “Yes, yes you did.”
Dean feels his ears turn vermillion. Vermillion feels a lot like burning. “Whatever, I’m trying, ok?”
“Yes. You are.” Castiel slides the piece of paper over to him and then stands up. “I should be going anyway.”
“You only just got here.”
Castiel shrugged. “I thought we were done.”
Dean bristled minutely. “Look, I get it, ok? I was a shitty friend the other night, but, I think I more than made up for it.”
Castiel raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“You know, with the whole...” he has to throw the words out before they can be lassoed and corralled by his brain. “Tongue up my butt...thing.”
Castiel’s answering look is level, and unremittingly haughty, though also faintly amused.
“That was, so rewarding for me, after all.” He says.
Dean glowers, “Well, what do you want me to do? I’ve said sorry, I admitted I was an ass-”
“A great big ass. The ass of one of those fat dudes who ride around on little carts at the supermarket. An ass so ginorminous, that it could kill Oprah, and her audience.”
Dean blinks at him, wondering if Castiel is clinically insane, and just really good at hiding it most of the time.
“That’s what you said in your message. Which was heartwarming, if a little long and snore filled in places.”
Dean feels his neck start to burn. “Ok smartass, what do you want, blood? Name it, one thing, one time only, then we’re good, alright? No more of this holier than thou - oh, my social schedule is so demanding, bull ok?”
“Ok, it’s a deal.”
There’s a very long pause.
“Well?” Dean demands.
“I’m thinking.”
“And?”
“You caught me off guard, give me a moment.” Castiel narrowed his eyes in thought. “there are so many things that I could make you do.”
“So pick one.”
Castiel’s continued thoughtfulness was making Dean sweat, what had he signed on for? Maybe he’d luck out and Castiel would just have him clean under the fridge, or go sock shopping with him or something.
Castiel raised his eyebrows, eyes clearing as he decided on something.
“I’ve got it.”
“Don’t leave me hanging.”
“I’m going to teach you something.”
It didn’t sound instantly unappealing, and Dean didn’t trust it for an instant.
“Teach me what?”
Castiel’s face was calm and serious. “How to give the perfect blow job.”
Dean’s first instinct was to commando roll off of his stool, sprint for the door, get in his car and drive to Mexico, where he’d rename himself Ramon and start a shrimp fishing business, married to three gorgeous, busty women, all named Consuela.
“No.”
“You said anything.”
“Yes but...no.”
“Why not?”
Yes, why not Dean?
Uhg, great, now his brain was taking Cas’s side, again. Stupid Brain, probably all snugly with Cas’s brain.
Weird thought.
Stupid brain-thoughts.
“Because...I’m not gay, and it’d be weird, and...you’re already all...Mr. Butt-sex-”
“To use my full Christian name.”
“And I don’t want you...lording it over me, in another department.”
They both stood in silence for a moment, while Dean’s words settled between them like premature confetti at a surprise party for a recent heart transplant patient.
Well, that was some crazy shit you just said, and I for one, want no further part in it. Said Dean’s brain, abandoning him.
Castiel took a breath.
“I’m sorry if you think I’m...lording it over you, but, this venture is drawing on my experience, and I know very well that you are not gay. But, a convincing performance would help us with future videos. If you can bear being within striking distance of me, that is.”
Stellar work, he’d managed to insult him all over again.
“Hey, just...ignore that, ok? I’m just...freaking out.”
“I saw.”
Dean forced himself to relax. “I can learn, and, be less freaked. If you promise not to get pissy every time I worry about this stuff.”
Castiel’s scalded cat expression simmered down into normalcy again. “Very well, I’ll try to be patient.”
“Thanks.”
“And, for your information, I was going to start this lesson with a visual aid. Namely, one fake penis. So no actual gay touching of your mouth to my genitals will occur.” Castiel said smartly. “Today,” he added.
Dean wondered if he was capable of pulling off a sombrero, and if he should grow in a big moustache, or just a little stubble to attract the local chicas.
“So, how are you gonna teach me then?” He asked.
“With great patience and care,” Castiel assured him. “Wait here while I go and find you a dick to suck.”
He bounded off towards the basement (well, less of a bound and more of a leisurely saunter, his bare feet silent on the floor, cuffs of his worn out ‘weekend’ jeans scuffing a little on the boards. The jeans were clearly old, there was too much room in them, and they hung off of Castiel’s slim hips and ass...)
Dean realised he was watching the other man walk away, and turned his attention, ruthlessly, back to his own two hands, and the cup between them.
Castiel returns shortly with not one, but two fake cocks, one noticeably bigger than the other. Both are clear silicone, and Dean knows for a fact that they are brand new, because he’d ordered them especially for Cas - thinking they were slightly classier than his neon bright collection.
Castiel hands him the smaller of the two and takes a seat at the table.
“Now, this is a very serious lesson,” Castiel says, “no snickering, no arguing, just pay attention.”
Dean salutes him, the fingers of his other hand closing nervously around the silicone cylinder.
“Take it firmly, but obviously not tightly, around the base.” Castiel demonstrates, deft fingers handling the lolling weight of the rubbery shaft as if it’s real, flesh and blood, capable of feeling. “Anything you can’t get into your mouth...which will probably be a lot, you can stroke with your hand, like this.”
He demonstrates the gentle motion of his hand, up and down.
“Shockingly, I’ve mastered that,” Dean says.
Castiel glares at him. “Just be careful not to let your hand slip off and punch you in the face.”
“Like that could actually...”
“It happens. You are not the first virgin I’ve tutored.”
“Hey, not a virgin. Not even kind of a virgin.” He folds his arms on the table. “Totally de-hymenated, card carrying, veteran of many hook ups. Verging on professional haver of sex.”
Castiel’s look is almost pitying. “With women, maybe. This, is different.”
Dean huffs disbelievingly.
“In terms you’ll understand, picture learning on an automatic, then switching to a stick.”
Grudgingly, Dean admits, if only to himself, that it is quite a difference. But, either way, it’s still the same basic language. Gear shift, spark plugs, accelerator... whatever. He knows his way around.
“When you go to use your mouth-”
“Let me guess, cover my teeth?” Dean cocks an eyebrow, “I’ve have had blow jobs.”
Castiel sighs. “Well then, show me what you’d do.”
Dean doesn’t move, because, yeah, so he’s had it done to him. He’s also had his appendix out. Doesn’t mean, if he were in an operating room, he’d know where to start (continue or finish).
Castiel gets him to lick the tip of the dildo (which tastes like plastic, and smells really strongly of rubber) then to put his mouth over it sucking gently, stroking the rest with his free hand.
To say that he feels stupid would be a ridiculous understatement.
Dean feels utterly ridiculous.
After a minute or two, Castiel stops him. “You’re still not quite there.”
“Really?” Dean wiggled the dildo, “he had no complaints.”
“You still look uncomfortable.”
“That’s because I’m a straight guy with a dick on my mouth.”
Castiel tuts. “That’s not the point, you’ve got to act like you like it - sell it.”
Dean eyes him suspiciously. “Spending time with Gabriel isn’t good for you.”
At that Castiel finally cracks a smile. He picks up his own dildo and sets it upright on the table. “Watch and learn.”
What follows is something so utterly filthy, that Dean actually feels the need to clean his entire kitchen, and then his eyes, after having witnessed it. It’s not just that Castiel is sucking off a freaking sex toy like it’s just bought him a lobster dinner and a Cadillac. It’s the way he does it, the little touches, the almost reluctant way he pulls away from the tip, diving in against with his tongue like he’s sampling something rare and delicious. The looks he casts upwards, as if he’s seeking praise from an unseen master, or taunting the lost soul whose dick he’s worshipping.
Dean’s not even surprised that he’s hard by the end. He defies anyone to watch a display like that and remain unmoved. The most militant of lesbians, or the deadest of saints would be moved to wild arousal were they ever to see Castiel fellate. That, was a fact.
Castiel pulls off eventually, taking in a sip of air through his red lips and sitting back looking satisfied.
Dean swallows, and realises that he hasn’t blinked in a while.
“Now you try.”
“I actually...” the words ‘need the bathroom’ stick to Dean’s tongue like the sweat sticking his shirt to his back. He gets up awkwardly, and makes an uncoordinated bid for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and leaning over the sink.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck fucking FUCK.
One hand goes to the bulge in his jeans, and his cursing turns internal.
Inappropriate, that’s what this is, and entirely unwarranted. Best to get it dealt with as soon as possible, because on no account must Cas suspect, even for a moment, that watching him suck a plastic dick had him in danger of popping his fly buttons so hard that they’d bust through walls.
Dean leans over the sink with one hand, the other works his fly open and pulls his dick out. Sweet relief. He grabs some lotion from beside the sink, strokes quick and firmly, already pretty close.
“Dean, are you al-“
Dean jumps as Castiel opens the bathroom door (that he’d stupidly forgotten to lock, fucking idiot).
“Oh.” Casitel says, and Dean sees the little dark circle of his surprised mouth, reflected in the mirror over the sink.
“Privacy! Jesus!”
“Sorry...” Castiel backs away, into the doorway, “but...uh...”
“What?”
“It’s just...” Castiel’s eyes are on the mirror, and Dean’s fairly certain that it’s affording him a pretty good view. His dick’s still in his hand, and twitches a little, as if eager to remind him that they were in the middle of something that it very much wants to finish.
“Well, I could help with that.”
Dean doesn’t move for a long moment, then he takes his hand off of himself, turns around and slowly leans against the sink unit.
“Yeah, ok.”
Castiel comes closer, stands right in front of him, his hand already going for Dean’s cock, he leans up, until their mouths nearly touch, until Dean can hear the tiny sound Cas makes as he wets his lips. And he knows Castiel is going to kiss him, but it doesn’t bother him. He wants it, wants those lips on his, and already wonders how that’s going to feel...
Dean comes over his own fist and opens his eyes, screwing the fantasy up and tossing it like a used tissue.
He cleans up, zips up, and heads back to the kitchen where Castiel is waiting.
No need to examine that too closely. It was a brief brain blip, as meaningless as the sex dream he once had about the Dr Sexy star. Totally beyond his control.
Except, you know, you were awake. His brain reminds him.
But Dean blithely ignores it.
Castiel comes over the next day, and interrupts Dean’s constant rechecking of the website, where their second video is already on 500,000 views, and climbing rapidly. It makes Dean slightly uncomfortable, not the popularity of the videos, but the comments that accompany the hits. Some are awesome, mostly people drooling over how hot they are together, basically what you’d want to hear if you’d put a naked video of yourself up on the internet.
Some of them though, were kind of creepy, especially the guy (Dean hoped it was a guy, preferably one who lived really really far away- like in Siberia, or on Venus) who wrote quite graphically about wanting to fuck Cas’s ‘pure little virgin ass’ with an axe handle.
Dean had flagged that one for removal. Then fought the urge to burn his computer, and the internet for good measure.
There were also the less creepy comments that still made him uncomfortable, because they’d come through Gabriel’s brilliant ‘new’ invention - the suggestion box.
Oh yes, visitors to Gabriel’s site could now offer suggestions for their favourite partners, and boy, they were not shy about doing so. Dean hadn’t had so many strangers telling him what to do with his junk since they’d lectured about testicular cancer at his high school.
He showed some of them to Castiel, and watched as the other man’s eyebrows reached his hairline (proving that he was indeed a blood relative of Gabriel’s).
“They’re not all so bad,” Castiel said, after a while, “quite a few people think we should kiss. That seems do-able.”
“So we’re just going to tactfully not mention the...4983 people who think I should play catcher?”
Castiel looked at him, “The definition of tact is not mentioning when 4983 people say anything that you feel would upset the person you’re standing next to.”
Dean glared at him. “You’re sitting down.”
Castiel muttered something under his breath and went back to looking at the computer.
“Oh,” he said after a while, “It seems my ass’s virginal status has been exaggerated...and I really hope Axeman46 lives very far away.”
“Oh for - I thought I’d gotten that taken down.”
“Sparing my feelings?” Castiel said pointedly.
Dean went to prepare lunch, not willing to concede the point.
“I suppose we should take note of some of the suggestions,” Castiel called through to him, “try and keep up with the market.”
Coming out to the kitchen, Castiel opened the spiral bound pad and writes neatly across the first page - Porn Ideas For Castiel And Dean.
“Don’t you think it should be a little more...cryptic?” Dean said, putting coffee and plates of sandwiches on the table and taking a seat. “In case we get indicted?”
“Hmmm...” Castiel tears out that page and re-heads the next with - Not Porn Ideas For Castiel and Dean.
“You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”
Castiel’s smile was slight, but changed his entire face, making him look about fifteen, and in possession of a dirty secret. “Yes.”
Dean rolls his eyes and takes a seat. “What are these ideas then?”
“Things we can do, you know, so no one gets bored of watching. Typical niches, themes, characters...” He tapped his pen on the pad, “Porn is difficult to keep interesting, because it’s the same thing, every time, or nearly the same. We have to keep up with our audience.”
“I am not dressing up as an Indian, a construction worker, or a cop.”
Castiel gave him an icy stare. “Native American.”
He felt like he was being chastised by a teacher. “Sorry.”
“And I don’t know where you got those ideas from, but they’re not exactly things that I’d pay to see, personally.” He sniffed.
Dean looked at him, “You’re seriously the only gay guy who has no idea who the village people are, aren’t you?”
Castiel’s brow creased, and he looked concerned for Dean’s mental health. “Who?”
“Wow,” Dean sipped his coffee, “so, go on, tell me what these great ideas of yours are.”
Castiel proceeded to outline quite a number of ideas, most of which made Dean as nervous as when his Dad had taken him to his first assault course. It was the exact stomach flipping sensation he’d had right before he’d abseiled for the first time.
Castiel’s ideas ranged from different positions (complete with tiny stick figure drawings, where Dean confused an arm with a dick and nearly had a heart attack) to different locations (Dean vetoed the idea of doing it in his kitchen, and Castiel offered his apartment instead - he even promised to clean under his fridge for the occasion, which seemed unnecessary, but Dean appreciated the offer at least). He also noted down a few kinks that they could try and include, from bondage (which Dean had never really had a taste for, and anyway, the smell of leather always reminded him of his Dad’s jacket, which was hardly a boost for the libido) to feet (Ok, Cas had nice feet, Dean wasn’t going to dispute that) to cross dressing (NO - flat out.) and food (always accepted).
Dean fiddles with scraps of torn paper and clears his throat before saying, “And...uh...I’ll, you know...work on my, participation.”
Castiel raises an eyebrow.
Dean flushes. “I mean, I’ll work up to...”
“Actually involving yourself?”
“Hey, I touched your dick.” Dean exclaims, louder than he means to, and with an aggressive point towards Castiel’s crotch.
Castiel pats his hand reassuringly. “Yes, yes you did.”
Dean feels his ears turn vermillion. Vermillion feels a lot like burning. “Whatever, I’m trying, ok?”
“Yes. You are.” Castiel slides the piece of paper over to him and then stands up. “I should be going anyway.”
“You only just got here.”
Castiel shrugged. “I thought we were done.”
Dean bristled minutely. “Look, I get it, ok? I was a shitty friend the other night, but, I think I more than made up for it.”
Castiel raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“You know, with the whole...” he has to throw the words out before they can be lassoed and corralled by his brain. “Tongue up my butt...thing.”
Castiel’s answering look is level, and unremittingly haughty, though also faintly amused.
“That was, so rewarding for me, after all.” He says.
Dean glowers, “Well, what do you want me to do? I’ve said sorry, I admitted I was an ass-”
“A great big ass. The ass of one of those fat dudes who ride around on little carts at the supermarket. An ass so ginorminous, that it could kill Oprah, and her audience.”
Dean blinks at him, wondering if Castiel is clinically insane, and just really good at hiding it most of the time.
“That’s what you said in your message. Which was heartwarming, if a little long and snore filled in places.”
Dean feels his neck start to burn. “Ok smartass, what do you want, blood? Name it, one thing, one time only, then we’re good, alright? No more of this holier than thou - oh, my social schedule is so demanding, bull ok?”
“Ok, it’s a deal.”
There’s a very long pause.
“Well?” Dean demands.
“I’m thinking.”
“And?”
“You caught me off guard, give me a moment.” Castiel narrowed his eyes in thought. “there are so many things that I could make you do.”
“So pick one.”
Castiel’s continued thoughtfulness was making Dean sweat, what had he signed on for? Maybe he’d luck out and Castiel would just have him clean under the fridge, or go sock shopping with him or something.
Castiel raised his eyebrows, eyes clearing as he decided on something.
“I’ve got it.”
“Don’t leave me hanging.”
“I’m going to teach you something.”
It didn’t sound instantly unappealing, and Dean didn’t trust it for an instant.
“Teach me what?”
Castiel’s face was calm and serious. “How to give the perfect blow job.”
Dean’s first instinct was to commando roll off of his stool, sprint for the door, get in his car and drive to Mexico, where he’d rename himself Ramon and start a shrimp fishing business, married to three gorgeous, busty women, all named Consuela.
“No.”
“You said anything.”
“Yes but...no.”
“Why not?”
Yes, why not Dean?
Uhg, great, now his brain was taking Cas’s side, again. Stupid Brain, probably all snugly with Cas’s brain.
Weird thought.
Stupid brain-thoughts.
“Because...I’m not gay, and it’d be weird, and...you’re already all...Mr. Butt-sex-”
“To use my full Christian name.”
“And I don’t want you...lording it over me, in another department.”
They both stood in silence for a moment, while Dean’s words settled between them like premature confetti at a surprise party for a recent heart transplant patient.
Well, that was some crazy shit you just said, and I for one, want no further part in it. Said Dean’s brain, abandoning him.
Castiel took a breath.
“I’m sorry if you think I’m...lording it over you, but, this venture is drawing on my experience, and I know very well that you are not gay. But, a convincing performance would help us with future videos. If you can bear being within striking distance of me, that is.”
Stellar work, he’d managed to insult him all over again.
“Hey, just...ignore that, ok? I’m just...freaking out.”
“I saw.”
Dean forced himself to relax. “I can learn, and, be less freaked. If you promise not to get pissy every time I worry about this stuff.”
Castiel’s scalded cat expression simmered down into normalcy again. “Very well, I’ll try to be patient.”
“Thanks.”
“And, for your information, I was going to start this lesson with a visual aid. Namely, one fake penis. So no actual gay touching of your mouth to my genitals will occur.” Castiel said smartly. “Today,” he added.
Dean wondered if he was capable of pulling off a sombrero, and if he should grow in a big moustache, or just a little stubble to attract the local chicas.
“So, how are you gonna teach me then?” He asked.
“With great patience and care,” Castiel assured him. “Wait here while I go and find you a dick to suck.”
He bounded off towards the basement (well, less of a bound and more of a leisurely saunter, his bare feet silent on the floor, cuffs of his worn out ‘weekend’ jeans scuffing a little on the boards. The jeans were clearly old, there was too much room in them, and they hung off of Castiel’s slim hips and ass...)
Dean realised he was watching the other man walk away, and turned his attention, ruthlessly, back to his own two hands, and the cup between them.
Castiel returns shortly with not one, but two fake cocks, one noticeably bigger than the other. Both are clear silicone, and Dean knows for a fact that they are brand new, because he’d ordered them especially for Cas - thinking they were slightly classier than his neon bright collection.
Castiel hands him the smaller of the two and takes a seat at the table.
“Now, this is a very serious lesson,” Castiel says, “no snickering, no arguing, just pay attention.”
Dean salutes him, the fingers of his other hand closing nervously around the silicone cylinder.
“Take it firmly, but obviously not tightly, around the base.” Castiel demonstrates, deft fingers handling the lolling weight of the rubbery shaft as if it’s real, flesh and blood, capable of feeling. “Anything you can’t get into your mouth...which will probably be a lot, you can stroke with your hand, like this.”
He demonstrates the gentle motion of his hand, up and down.
“Shockingly, I’ve mastered that,” Dean says.
Castiel glares at him. “Just be careful not to let your hand slip off and punch you in the face.”
“Like that could actually...”
“It happens. You are not the first virgin I’ve tutored.”
“Hey, not a virgin. Not even kind of a virgin.” He folds his arms on the table. “Totally de-hymenated, card carrying, veteran of many hook ups. Verging on professional haver of sex.”
Castiel’s look is almost pitying. “With women, maybe. This, is different.”
Dean huffs disbelievingly.
“In terms you’ll understand, picture learning on an automatic, then switching to a stick.”
Grudgingly, Dean admits, if only to himself, that it is quite a difference. But, either way, it’s still the same basic language. Gear shift, spark plugs, accelerator... whatever. He knows his way around.
“When you go to use your mouth-”
“Let me guess, cover my teeth?” Dean cocks an eyebrow, “I’ve have had blow jobs.”
Castiel sighs. “Well then, show me what you’d do.”
Dean doesn’t move, because, yeah, so he’s had it done to him. He’s also had his appendix out. Doesn’t mean, if he were in an operating room, he’d know where to start (continue or finish).
Castiel gets him to lick the tip of the dildo (which tastes like plastic, and smells really strongly of rubber) then to put his mouth over it sucking gently, stroking the rest with his free hand.
To say that he feels stupid would be a ridiculous understatement.
Dean feels utterly ridiculous.
After a minute or two, Castiel stops him. “You’re still not quite there.”
“Really?” Dean wiggled the dildo, “he had no complaints.”
“You still look uncomfortable.”
“That’s because I’m a straight guy with a dick on my mouth.”
Castiel tuts. “That’s not the point, you’ve got to act like you like it - sell it.”
Dean eyes him suspiciously. “Spending time with Gabriel isn’t good for you.”
At that Castiel finally cracks a smile. He picks up his own dildo and sets it upright on the table. “Watch and learn.”
What follows is something so utterly filthy, that Dean actually feels the need to clean his entire kitchen, and then his eyes, after having witnessed it. It’s not just that Castiel is sucking off a freaking sex toy like it’s just bought him a lobster dinner and a Cadillac. It’s the way he does it, the little touches, the almost reluctant way he pulls away from the tip, diving in against with his tongue like he’s sampling something rare and delicious. The looks he casts upwards, as if he’s seeking praise from an unseen master, or taunting the lost soul whose dick he’s worshipping.
Dean’s not even surprised that he’s hard by the end. He defies anyone to watch a display like that and remain unmoved. The most militant of lesbians, or the deadest of saints would be moved to wild arousal were they ever to see Castiel fellate. That, was a fact.
Castiel pulls off eventually, taking in a sip of air through his red lips and sitting back looking satisfied.
Dean swallows, and realises that he hasn’t blinked in a while.
“Now you try.”
“I actually...” the words ‘need the bathroom’ stick to Dean’s tongue like the sweat sticking his shirt to his back. He gets up awkwardly, and makes an uncoordinated bid for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and leaning over the sink.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck fucking FUCK.
One hand goes to the bulge in his jeans, and his cursing turns internal.
Inappropriate, that’s what this is, and entirely unwarranted. Best to get it dealt with as soon as possible, because on no account must Cas suspect, even for a moment, that watching him suck a plastic dick had him in danger of popping his fly buttons so hard that they’d bust through walls.
Dean leans over the sink with one hand, the other works his fly open and pulls his dick out. Sweet relief. He grabs some lotion from beside the sink, strokes quick and firmly, already pretty close.
“Dean, are you al-“
Dean jumps as Castiel opens the bathroom door (that he’d stupidly forgotten to lock, fucking idiot).
“Oh.” Casitel says, and Dean sees the little dark circle of his surprised mouth, reflected in the mirror over the sink.
“Privacy! Jesus!”
“Sorry...” Castiel backs away, into the doorway, “but...uh...”
“What?”
“It’s just...” Castiel’s eyes are on the mirror, and Dean’s fairly certain that it’s affording him a pretty good view. His dick’s still in his hand, and twitches a little, as if eager to remind him that they were in the middle of something that it very much wants to finish.
“Well, I could help with that.”
Dean doesn’t move for a long moment, then he takes his hand off of himself, turns around and slowly leans against the sink unit.
“Yeah, ok.”
Castiel comes closer, stands right in front of him, his hand already going for Dean’s cock, he leans up, until their mouths nearly touch, until Dean can hear the tiny sound Cas makes as he wets his lips. And he knows Castiel is going to kiss him, but it doesn’t bother him. He wants it, wants those lips on his, and already wonders how that’s going to feel...
Dean comes over his own fist and opens his eyes, screwing the fantasy up and tossing it like a used tissue.
He cleans up, zips up, and heads back to the kitchen where Castiel is waiting.
No need to examine that too closely. It was a brief brain blip, as meaningless as the sex dream he once had about the Dr Sexy star. Totally beyond his control.
Except, you know, you were awake. His brain reminds him.
But Dean blithely ignores it.