fic: Benediction
Title: Benediction
Pairing: Castiel/Dean
Word Count: ~1740
Rating: nc-17
Heads-up: Prostitute AU
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: Written for karmageddon for the spnspringfling exchange (originally posted here). There may be a sequel in the works :p
"Seriously man, this place has the best steaks. Plus the waitresses are hot." Sam leans over to poke at Dean's shoulder. "You paying attention?"
Dean nods, eyes on the crowd of people outside the restaurant. Sam shakes his head, grinning.
"You're worrying too much. Just drop me off and I'll deal with the reservations."
"You mean the lack of, right?"
"Spoilsport. I'll let them know you just won your first big case, and we have cause to celebrate." Sam reaches over to ruffle Dean's hair. "I'll even be nice and get some numbers for you, if you're going to stay Debbie Downer on me like this."
Dean pulls the Impala as close as he can to the curb before turning to his coworker. "I'm fine, okay? Just, gotta get my head out of the case first."
Sam nods, clapping a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'll see you inside. Parking's in a lot at the end of the block."
Dean ducks his head in agreement. "Better not cherry pick your way through there before I make it in, got it?"
Sam's laughter is the only response he gets, and it's cut off when Sam slams the door shut.
"Fucker," Dean murmurs, switching his attention to the traffic driving by. It's a steady stream, and he hits his blinker, leaning back and waiting for it to lighten up. An individual on the other side of the street catches his attention, and Dean does his best to look over without staring.
It's hard not to though, the figure leaning up against the side of the brick building. A tan trench coat hits mid-thigh, with tailored black pants underneath. When Dean's eyes make their way back up he finds the man staring straight at him, and with a guilty twist in his stomach Dean looks away. He's pretty sure he's seen the guy around town before, sometimes with a fedora, but always with that coat.
He has to glance back, check for traffic, and when he does he finds the coast clear and the sidewalk empty.
"Whatever." Dean pulls out into traffic, following along until he sees the sign for parking. When he pulls in the Impala's headlights flash over chain link and crisp tan lines, too quickly for Dean to focus on. He parks near the back of the lot, backing the car in while he still has the space to do so, before the lot fills up with Escalades and Mercedes.
A knock on the window catches Dean off guard, and he finds himself revving the engine in a futile attempt to either escape or scare off his would-be attacker. The tapping continues, softer now, and when Dean focuses in all he can suddenly see is a pair of bright blue eyes.
"Saw you watching me." The words slip into the car the moment Dean starts to roll his window down. The guy's leaning over, carefully not touching the car, and Dean's pretty sure he doesn't see anything on underneath the jacket.
"Saw you loitering, what of it?" It's been awhile since Dean's had time for this sort of recreational activity. Work's been a bitch and Sam's insistent on dragging him out to bars and clubs to pick up women. Dean's pretty sure not much would change if Sam knew the truth of the matter, but his personal preferences aren't something he'd like to get around. Especially with his career just starting.
The man's voice drops to a low growl. "You know what I am and you know what you want. Get in the back seat."
Dean hesitates for a moment before opening the car door and stepping out. "You have daddy issues like the rest of them?" It's not that he's never done this before; for fuck's sake, Sam's been his coworker and roommate for far too long now for Dean to be fumbling around prostitutes. But there's something about this one that has his stomach curling in nervous anticipation, leaving him fumbling with the rear door. It's nice not to have to take charge for once.
"Everyone has daddy issues." Warm breath hits his neck, and he can feel the man curve himself around Dean's body. "But most people don't solve them with hookers."
"I thought hookers wasn't pc." Dean's having trouble focusing on the conversation, his shirt being tugged loose from his pants, cold fingers pulling on his belt buckle. "Don't want you blowing me in the parking lot," he adds, suddenly self-conscious.
"Don't wanna blow you."
"Then what?"
"Get inside."
Dean stops arguing and opens the door, still unsure of what exactly's going on. He offers a silent thanks to whomever designed the massive backseat of the Impala, looking over just in time to see the man slide in after him. Dean tries to move, give him room but the man pins him down, fingers gripping Dean's shoulder as he straddles him.
The first kiss is soft and Dean hesitates before grabbing onto the man's ankles. There's something smooth underneath the soft pants fabric, and Dean shoves the cuffs up, following the soft leather of the boots up to the curve of the man's knees.
The man moans against his mouth when Dean's fingers trace along the edge of leather and flesh, and Dean can feel the soft hitch forward his body makes. Dean reaches higher, pausing to unbutton the front. Fingers grip at his hair and shoulder, breathy moans in his ear and Dean's not sure who was really seeking out who back there. Doesn't really matter now, just that they've met and the last button's come loose and Dean's finally able to push the jacket off the guy's shoulders.
He isn't wearing anything underneath, and Dean's hands slide down to grab at his hips; hold him in place as Dean grinds up against him.
"What'd you have in mind?" Dean manages to get out, the man's hand cupping him through his slacks. He likes this, not having to make all the decisions and call all the shots.
"Want you to fuck me." That low purr, teeth sharp and promising against Dean's throat.
"Here?" Dean's down with the idea.
There's a sharp laugh as he finally works Dean's pants open, long fingers reaching in to free Dean's cock. "Where else? You look like the sort of guy who'd get off even harder in the backseat."
"Have we met before?" Cause seriously, this guy's hitting all of Dean's buttons, and he knows for a fact he's not lucky enough to win a big case and run into a compatible prostitute all in the same day.
"Not like we're about to," he says, rolling off Dean long enough to wriggle out of his pants. Dean can see the boots now, shiny dark leather that contrasts against pale skin. Before he knows it his lap is full again, wet kisses along his jaw as the hooker rolls a condom on.
"What's your name?"
Finally, a pause. "Castiel."
"That's...different." Dean's words end with a whimper when Castiel's fingers brush lower, teasing against his ass.
"Trust me, the Destinies and BJs and Chastity's are all lying to you. I'm not though. Pretty sure my parents jinxed me into this profession," he adds with a wink, scooting closer to Dean.
Dean's head hits the headrest when Castiel starts to lower himself down, the slick heat almost overwhelming. His fingers scrabble against leather, searching until he's holding onto Castiel's thighs and god, could he move any slower?
"Your phone's ringing." Castiel's smirking at him, and Dean glares at him for a second before grabbing it from the side. It's Sam.
"Dean, where are you? Did you find parking?" Sam's voice is loud in the car, and Dean can feel Castiel's grin.
"Yeah, just, something came up. A phone call," Dean pauses, and Castiel sinks down further. Dean has to bite at his lip to keep from groaning into the mouthpiece. "Nothing much, but I'll be in soon."
"Gotcha." Sam hesitates. "Call if you need anything."
"Will do." Dean hangs up without waiting for an answer, tossing the phone to the side. He grabs at Castiel's shoulders, pulling him down closer. "Asshole"
"You needed it, Dean." Castiel gasps when Dean's fingers finds a nipple, and he starts to rock against Dean, his dick hard between them.
"Need this," Dean murmurs before leaning up and kissing Castiel again. Teeth hit and Dean tastes blood, but he can't be bothered to stop and check. Castiel licks it away, copper and desperation and Dean groans at the light touch.
Dean reaches down to take Castiel's dick in hand, and the other man shudders at the touch. It's a blur after that, Castiel murmuring against Dean's cheek, gasping out his name until he comes, a hard spatter over Dean's work shirt.
That's what tips Dean over the edge, the way his name comes off of Castiel's tongue, curled about and reverent. His hands fall to Castiel's hips, gripping him hard enough to leave reddened imprints. Dean hopes there's bruises in the morning. Hopes even more that maybe he might even see them later on, but he tries to tamp that feeling down.
Dean swears he only closes his eyes for a second, but when he slowly blinks aware, he realizes he's tucked in and dressed. Glancing over to his right, he can see Castiel watching him.
"You're exhausted."
"You care a lot, for a hooker." Dean feels raw, more exposed than he generally likes, and he tries to rebuild his walls.
"Mmhmm,' Castiel agrees. "But for you, mostly. This isn't a regular thing." He sets a white business card on the leather upholstery between them. "It's probably time for you to get to your dinner."
"But what about..." Dean lifts his ass up, reaching for his wallet.
"Next time we can discuss prices. And what exactly is on the menu." Cas smiles, eyes flashing in the low light. "Until then..."
Dean stares dumbly after him, only starting when the car door slams shut. His phone starts to ring again and when Dean checks it he can see two more missed calls from Sam.
On my way, he texts, not ready to face the barrage of questions he knows will be hitting him shortly. The message sent, he lets his head fall back against the seat.
"Castiel," he whispers, trying out the sound. He likes it.
Pairing: Castiel/Dean
Word Count: ~1740
Rating: nc-17
Heads-up: Prostitute AU
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: Written for karmageddon for the spnspringfling exchange (originally posted here). There may be a sequel in the works :p
"Seriously man, this place has the best steaks. Plus the waitresses are hot." Sam leans over to poke at Dean's shoulder. "You paying attention?"
Dean nods, eyes on the crowd of people outside the restaurant. Sam shakes his head, grinning.
"You're worrying too much. Just drop me off and I'll deal with the reservations."
"You mean the lack of, right?"
"Spoilsport. I'll let them know you just won your first big case, and we have cause to celebrate." Sam reaches over to ruffle Dean's hair. "I'll even be nice and get some numbers for you, if you're going to stay Debbie Downer on me like this."
Dean pulls the Impala as close as he can to the curb before turning to his coworker. "I'm fine, okay? Just, gotta get my head out of the case first."
Sam nods, clapping a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'll see you inside. Parking's in a lot at the end of the block."
Dean ducks his head in agreement. "Better not cherry pick your way through there before I make it in, got it?"
Sam's laughter is the only response he gets, and it's cut off when Sam slams the door shut.
"Fucker," Dean murmurs, switching his attention to the traffic driving by. It's a steady stream, and he hits his blinker, leaning back and waiting for it to lighten up. An individual on the other side of the street catches his attention, and Dean does his best to look over without staring.
It's hard not to though, the figure leaning up against the side of the brick building. A tan trench coat hits mid-thigh, with tailored black pants underneath. When Dean's eyes make their way back up he finds the man staring straight at him, and with a guilty twist in his stomach Dean looks away. He's pretty sure he's seen the guy around town before, sometimes with a fedora, but always with that coat.
He has to glance back, check for traffic, and when he does he finds the coast clear and the sidewalk empty.
"Whatever." Dean pulls out into traffic, following along until he sees the sign for parking. When he pulls in the Impala's headlights flash over chain link and crisp tan lines, too quickly for Dean to focus on. He parks near the back of the lot, backing the car in while he still has the space to do so, before the lot fills up with Escalades and Mercedes.
A knock on the window catches Dean off guard, and he finds himself revving the engine in a futile attempt to either escape or scare off his would-be attacker. The tapping continues, softer now, and when Dean focuses in all he can suddenly see is a pair of bright blue eyes.
"Saw you watching me." The words slip into the car the moment Dean starts to roll his window down. The guy's leaning over, carefully not touching the car, and Dean's pretty sure he doesn't see anything on underneath the jacket.
"Saw you loitering, what of it?" It's been awhile since Dean's had time for this sort of recreational activity. Work's been a bitch and Sam's insistent on dragging him out to bars and clubs to pick up women. Dean's pretty sure not much would change if Sam knew the truth of the matter, but his personal preferences aren't something he'd like to get around. Especially with his career just starting.
The man's voice drops to a low growl. "You know what I am and you know what you want. Get in the back seat."
Dean hesitates for a moment before opening the car door and stepping out. "You have daddy issues like the rest of them?" It's not that he's never done this before; for fuck's sake, Sam's been his coworker and roommate for far too long now for Dean to be fumbling around prostitutes. But there's something about this one that has his stomach curling in nervous anticipation, leaving him fumbling with the rear door. It's nice not to have to take charge for once.
"Everyone has daddy issues." Warm breath hits his neck, and he can feel the man curve himself around Dean's body. "But most people don't solve them with hookers."
"I thought hookers wasn't pc." Dean's having trouble focusing on the conversation, his shirt being tugged loose from his pants, cold fingers pulling on his belt buckle. "Don't want you blowing me in the parking lot," he adds, suddenly self-conscious.
"Don't wanna blow you."
"Then what?"
"Get inside."
Dean stops arguing and opens the door, still unsure of what exactly's going on. He offers a silent thanks to whomever designed the massive backseat of the Impala, looking over just in time to see the man slide in after him. Dean tries to move, give him room but the man pins him down, fingers gripping Dean's shoulder as he straddles him.
The first kiss is soft and Dean hesitates before grabbing onto the man's ankles. There's something smooth underneath the soft pants fabric, and Dean shoves the cuffs up, following the soft leather of the boots up to the curve of the man's knees.
The man moans against his mouth when Dean's fingers trace along the edge of leather and flesh, and Dean can feel the soft hitch forward his body makes. Dean reaches higher, pausing to unbutton the front. Fingers grip at his hair and shoulder, breathy moans in his ear and Dean's not sure who was really seeking out who back there. Doesn't really matter now, just that they've met and the last button's come loose and Dean's finally able to push the jacket off the guy's shoulders.
He isn't wearing anything underneath, and Dean's hands slide down to grab at his hips; hold him in place as Dean grinds up against him.
"What'd you have in mind?" Dean manages to get out, the man's hand cupping him through his slacks. He likes this, not having to make all the decisions and call all the shots.
"Want you to fuck me." That low purr, teeth sharp and promising against Dean's throat.
"Here?" Dean's down with the idea.
There's a sharp laugh as he finally works Dean's pants open, long fingers reaching in to free Dean's cock. "Where else? You look like the sort of guy who'd get off even harder in the backseat."
"Have we met before?" Cause seriously, this guy's hitting all of Dean's buttons, and he knows for a fact he's not lucky enough to win a big case and run into a compatible prostitute all in the same day.
"Not like we're about to," he says, rolling off Dean long enough to wriggle out of his pants. Dean can see the boots now, shiny dark leather that contrasts against pale skin. Before he knows it his lap is full again, wet kisses along his jaw as the hooker rolls a condom on.
"What's your name?"
Finally, a pause. "Castiel."
"That's...different." Dean's words end with a whimper when Castiel's fingers brush lower, teasing against his ass.
"Trust me, the Destinies and BJs and Chastity's are all lying to you. I'm not though. Pretty sure my parents jinxed me into this profession," he adds with a wink, scooting closer to Dean.
Dean's head hits the headrest when Castiel starts to lower himself down, the slick heat almost overwhelming. His fingers scrabble against leather, searching until he's holding onto Castiel's thighs and god, could he move any slower?
"Your phone's ringing." Castiel's smirking at him, and Dean glares at him for a second before grabbing it from the side. It's Sam.
"Dean, where are you? Did you find parking?" Sam's voice is loud in the car, and Dean can feel Castiel's grin.
"Yeah, just, something came up. A phone call," Dean pauses, and Castiel sinks down further. Dean has to bite at his lip to keep from groaning into the mouthpiece. "Nothing much, but I'll be in soon."
"Gotcha." Sam hesitates. "Call if you need anything."
"Will do." Dean hangs up without waiting for an answer, tossing the phone to the side. He grabs at Castiel's shoulders, pulling him down closer. "Asshole"
"You needed it, Dean." Castiel gasps when Dean's fingers finds a nipple, and he starts to rock against Dean, his dick hard between them.
"Need this," Dean murmurs before leaning up and kissing Castiel again. Teeth hit and Dean tastes blood, but he can't be bothered to stop and check. Castiel licks it away, copper and desperation and Dean groans at the light touch.
Dean reaches down to take Castiel's dick in hand, and the other man shudders at the touch. It's a blur after that, Castiel murmuring against Dean's cheek, gasping out his name until he comes, a hard spatter over Dean's work shirt.
That's what tips Dean over the edge, the way his name comes off of Castiel's tongue, curled about and reverent. His hands fall to Castiel's hips, gripping him hard enough to leave reddened imprints. Dean hopes there's bruises in the morning. Hopes even more that maybe he might even see them later on, but he tries to tamp that feeling down.
Dean swears he only closes his eyes for a second, but when he slowly blinks aware, he realizes he's tucked in and dressed. Glancing over to his right, he can see Castiel watching him.
"You're exhausted."
"You care a lot, for a hooker." Dean feels raw, more exposed than he generally likes, and he tries to rebuild his walls.
"Mmhmm,' Castiel agrees. "But for you, mostly. This isn't a regular thing." He sets a white business card on the leather upholstery between them. "It's probably time for you to get to your dinner."
"But what about..." Dean lifts his ass up, reaching for his wallet.
"Next time we can discuss prices. And what exactly is on the menu." Cas smiles, eyes flashing in the low light. "Until then..."
Dean stares dumbly after him, only starting when the car door slams shut. His phone starts to ring again and when Dean checks it he can see two more missed calls from Sam.
On my way, he texts, not ready to face the barrage of questions he knows will be hitting him shortly. The message sent, he lets his head fall back against the seat.
"Castiel," he whispers, trying out the sound. He likes it.