See Me In My Office (1/1)
Title: See Me In My Office
Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): None
Summary: Dean is secretly in love with Cas, his sexy and disarmingly nice boss, but he’s done absolutely nothing about it except bemoan his pitiful state to Charlie. Little does he know, Cas has been harboring an infatuation of his own, and all of their tension blows up one day (so to speak) over a sleek, mahogany desk.
Notes: I just needed an outlet for the turbulent feelings I get for a dominant Cas (I find it insanely hot, basically). I couldn’t help myself. Maybe Misha bled a little into the fic too. Ugh, sorry I’m not sorry. My only hope is that you enjoy the fic 'cause I'm proud of it, hee!
Linked on my Tumblr.
Cross-posted at my Ao3.
The thing is, Dean’s boss drives him a little crazy.
It’s not that the guy is mean, or even a hard ass, though it’d make Dean’s life a lot easier if he were. No, in fact, Castiel Novak is just the opposite - brilliant, charming, a total sweetheart - and, yeah, Dean knows he’s talking about a six-foot-tall, male adult here but it’s all true, especially the last part. What else do you call someone who remembers people’s food allergies during a lunch meeting?
Castiel (or Cas, as he prefers) is the youngest to ever make partner at their marketing company (like, in the entire history of the firm, across all branches). You’d never know it from his modesty, though, a stark contrast to some of the others with half his brains yet thrice his ego, and a quarter of his paycheck, Dean would presume. Plus, it was a hot topic around the water cooler for a while when Cas was the only ‘higher-up’ to attend the birthday party Charlie threw for her daughter at the park, arriving with pastel-colored You’re Four Years Old! balloons, smile peeking out from behind a giant stuffed teddy bear. He’d even shucked the suit and tie for a t-shirt and jeans, looking so casual and hot. Dean would know; he was there, standing by the swing set with Charlie’s wife Gilda, ogling Cas and his tanned, freaking demigod arms and trying not to drool onto his cake.
Okay, so maybe the real reason Dean’s frustrated is that he’s a bit in love with Castiel. But, honestly, everyone else is too and his crush (god, it’s so junior high) doesn’t mean much at all. Pointless, actually, because Cas has a girlfriend. Dean’s never seen her but, according to eyewitnesses from the holiday party he missed last winter, the girl is petite and attractive in that smoky eyes, sultry voice kind of way. “Probably an animal in bed” was Charlie’s assessment and Dean had wanted to claw at his eyeballs, mostly out of hideous jealousy.
Of course, none of this stops Dean from spilling coffee on his tie when Cas saunters into the break room and claps him on the shoulder with a good-natured “Need a caffeine fix already?”
Dean is mortified and just freezes in his place while Cas gently pries the mug from Dean’s hand and rushes over to grab the paper towels. And if Dean melts a little at how carefully his boss dabs at the stains, he tries his damnedest not to show it.
“I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean to alarm you,” Cas says in that... god, in that low, gravelly voice, and he’s got his brows furrowed too, guiltily like he’s just run over someone’s dog.
“No, uh, no, it’s fine...”
Cas sighs, tossing the used towels in the trash. Dean expects another apology (because this is Cas), but he’s thrown for a loop when Cas reaches up to his wet tie and starts undoing it, long fingers so nimble and no, Dean, he’s not undressing you, okay, stop with the inappropriate thoughts.
“Um?” he squeaks out instead, which is ineloquent but better than 'oh god yes keep going.' Cas only smiles as he pulls the narrow fabric through Dean’s collar, and sets it aside on the counter before repeating the steps with his own tie. It’s making no sense so Dean subtly pinches his thigh and, yup, this isn’t a dream. Maybe he’s hallucinating then, or dead, or something.
“Er...” Dean is totally incoherent now that Cas is wrapping the tie around his, as in Dean's, neck. They’re standing really close and he can see all the ways the harsh fluorescent lights mellow out in Cas’ blue eyes.
“You can borrow it for the day,” Cas says nonchalantly like he’s just lent Dean a fucking pen. “I keep an extra one in my office for emergencies.”
“Oh...” Dean has got to pull himself out of this monosyllabic brain freeze. “That’s...” Nope, not there yet. “Smart.” ... Shit.
Cas laughs, all gums and crinkled eyes like he’s charmed or something. By what, Dean’s not sure, but then again, Cas is nice to everyone. In the next fifteen seconds, Cas finishes off a half Windsor knot so perfect he could film a YouTube tutorial, and proceeds to straighten out a few wrinkles on Dean’s jacket before walking out, throwing a “Don’t forget the projections PowerPoint due by noon” over his shoulder.
Dean just stares dumbly at the empty doorway until he realizes that he’s half-hard and almost hyperventilating. He groans and scrubs at his face and yanks his soiled tie off the counter before heading back to his office, passing Charlie on the way. She quirks an eyebrow at the blue tie on his shirt and the striped one in his hand.
“Wait, isn’t that-”
“Yeah,” Dean huffs, trudging into his office. Charlie follows and shuts the door, apparently determined to wheedle out the latest chapter of Dean's unrequited love saga.
“So, why are you wearing our hunky boss’ tie?”
“Ugh, Charlie, don’t say ‘hunky.’ This isn’t the nineties.”
“Oh sorry I’m not up-to-date on the lingo. I haven’t been interested in a man since the nineties,” Charlie snipes. When Dean rolls his eyes, she relents, “Fine. Why are you wearing our dreamy boss’ tie? Do you still use that adjective? Am I being hip enough?”
“God, Charlie, shut up,” Dean whines. “I’m wearing it because I spilled coffee on mine, okay? He saw it happen and gave me his to wear. No big deal.”
“Right,” Charlie’s not buying it. “No big deal. That’s why you’re blushing so hard, huh?” She becomes more sympathetic at how pained Dean looks, though, and comes closer to card her fingers through his hair; Dean hates to admit how comforting he finds that. “Why did you spill your coffee?” she asks, and the tone is softer and kind, not her usual sarcastic one.
“He put his hand on my shoulder.” God, it sounds even more stupid out loud. Fuck, he’s so pathetic. Fuck. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with liking someone, Dean,” Charlie assures him, and it’s times like these that Dean is so grateful that they’re friends. “Hey, wanna sneak out for a pick-me-up? Ice cream, coffee-” she bites back a giggle when Dean grimaces. “Okay, no coffee. Um, pie? Whatever you want.”
“Pie,” Dean echoes reverently, mind already shuffling through the selection of fillings available at the corner bakery. “Pie sounds good.”
Charlie grins and links their arms together, dragging him out of the room. “My treat.” Dean can’t help but smile back and lets her pull him away, the PowerPoint on his computer screen unfortunately forgotten.
-----
Castiel is really frustrated with Dean Winchester.
Here’s the deal. He’s found Dean completely adorable from the moment they were introduced, which was almost a year ago when he transferred here from the Boston office. Everyone else seemed so formal and then there was Dean, greeting him with this wide moonbeam of a smile and big green eyes and, yeah, Castiel definitely spent a second too long just appreciating before they shook hands. He was smitten, and he’s been dropping clues of his interest for the past nine months.
Dean is whip smart, a sharp and impressive project manager, an asset, et cetera, but he’s so hopelessly oblivious that Castiel’s added an extra two miles to his morning runs and ten minutes of jerk-off time in the shower just to be less antsy and blue-balled around him. It’s like every single flirtation goes completely over his head, and Castiel can’t comprehend why everyone’s gotten the memo that Meg is only a friend except for Dean. Well, except for Dean and Charlie Bradbury.
That’s another thing. Castiel went to a four-year-old’s birthday picnic because he knew Dean would be there. Don’t get him wrong; he really likes Charlie, and her adopted daughter Lily (named after Lily Potter) is a tiny heartbreaker already, but he totally went to that party hoping that Dean would take a freaking hint. Too bad Dean chatted with Gilda the entire time and paid no attention to Cas.
God, even today. First of all, yes, he did give Dean his tie just to see what it would feel like to (partly) undress him, and even then Dean only peered back with those stupid eyes and stupid parted mouth. (Castiel might’ve cracked and pushed Dean down onto his knees had his hands not chickened out at the last second to attend to some invisible wrinkles on Dean’s shoulders instead.)
He tugs glumly at the new tie he’s carelessly strung around his neck and glances at the clock. 11:58 am. Thank fuck, finally. He pushes back on his swivel chair and gets up, tossing his pen on the desk before heading out the door toward Dean’s office. He hears the pen roll and clatter onto the floor but doesn’t even blink - and he’s usually such a neat freak.
Dean is typing so furiously that he misses Cas’ two rounds of knocks on his door, and jumps in his seat when Cas decides to just walk in.
“Uh, um, Cas!” he says too loudly, and Castiel doesn’t miss the frantic clicks that are likely putting the computer to sleep.
“Is the PowerPoint finished, Dean?” he asks, trying to mask the amusement in his voice.
“Yeah! Yeah, I was about to email it to you.” Dean squirms at the knowing look cast his way, and Cas has got to admit that a flustered Dean is one pretty sight. He pictures that blush spreading down to an equally flushed, naked chest until he squashes the thought, clearing his throat with a grin.
“Well, as long as I’m here, I could just look through it now.”
“Oh, uh,” Dean starts to fidget. “No, um... I mean, it’d be more comfortable for you to just... you know, open it at your desk... I don’t have any extra chairs... in here.”
Castiel is already walking around Dean’s desk and soon he’s leaning over Dean’s right shoulder, moving the mouse to wake up the screen. He’s close enough to smell Dean’s aftershave and feels the heat pool dangerously in his stomach. “No, this is fine,” he manages calmly.
Dean’s still shifting like a kid in trouble and normally Cas would be sympathetic, but he’s just so fucking exasperated with the guy that he wants to keep pushing his buttons. He leans in more so his abdomen touches Dean’s arm, and it’s gratifying when Dean’s breath catches at the contact.
Meanwhile, Dean’s computer turns up a small text box for the password, and Castiel smiles at the icon of Dean grinning next to a taller, dimpled guy. That must be his brother, Sam.
“What’s your password, Dean?” Castiel asks right into the shell of Dean’s ear (on purpose). There’s another sharp intake of breath.
“Um... I’ll- I can type it in,” Dean stammers weakly.
“My hand’s already here,” Castiel persists, glad that Dean can’t see the mischievous expression on his face. “Tell me what it is.”
“No, no, I can-”
“Dean,” Cas says sternly, “the PowerPoint is officially late now and I have other work to do. You can change your password after I leave. What is it?”
Castiel thinks he imagines the soft whimper that escapes Dean’s mouth, but perhaps not given the panic-stricken look on the guy’s face. He doesn’t understand what the big deal is; he’s pretty sure Dean wasn’t watching porn or anything when he walked in.
“Dean,” he prompts again. Honestly, he’s not mad. Just entertained. He’s an asshole.
“It’s...” Dean pauses. Then, in one rush of breath, “It’s cashew novel.”
“What?” Castiel’s fingers hover over the keyboard. Weird password. “Cashew what?”
“No, it’s...” Dean sighs shakily, fingers fisting in his pants. “It’s...”
“Dean, come on, I have a meeting in-”
“Castiel Novak!”
Cas blinks. “... Yes?” he replies, because what else is he supposed to say.
“No,” Dean huffs. “My password. It’s Castiel Novak.” His gaze falls to his hands. “One word. No caps,” he adds in a quieter voice, resigned.
It takes Cas a moment to properly register this information, and when he does, a laugh bubbles out of his chest so suddenly that he has no shot at suppressing it. Dean, poor guy, jerks his head up in shock, heat flaring red on that gorgeous, freckled face, and Cas shakes his head in an attempt to convey that he’s not laughing at him. Oh god, he can’t stop, though, and he feels ridiculous. Because fuck him sideways he wasted all this time wondering if Dean would ever reciprocate his interest, and all this time Dean’s been typing Cas’ damn name into his Apple every day at work.
“I’m sorry, it’s just...” Cas lets his hand drop to Dean’s shoulder, and the other man flinches a little but doesn’t move otherwise. “Email me the PowerPoint when you’re done.”
Dean eyes him somewhat suspiciously but nods with a barely audible “Okay,” and Castiel turns to leave the room, remembering to shoot him a smile because, oh man, this changes everything.
-----
“Fuck...” Dean curses as the door shuts behind Castiel. He puts both elbows on his desk and rests his head on the open palms, wanting to pull violently at his pair or, better yet, vanish altogether. (Charlie mentioned some device called a Mousehole that they use in Marvel movies to disappear through the floor of anything and, god, he’d pay big, big money for one right about now.)
The laughing made it even worse and Dean feels like a preteen who’s been caught writing Mrs. Castiel Novak all over his fucking binder, complete with a heart over the i. Cas must be doubling over, probably texting his stupid girlfriend about it, or maybe not since he’s nice enough not to and, ugh, why is Dean defending him?
He types the password in shame (so much shame) and is greeted by the bar graph he was working on when Cas interrupted him. He didn’t mean to come back late from the bakery but Charlie let him vent about, well, Cas, and it felt good to have a sounding board for his numerous pent-up feelings. By the time they rushed back, though, it was already 11:45 am, and Excel spreadsheets and their bazillion cells could be a real bitch under time stress. He’s even starting to regret the cherry pie, and he never regrets pie.
Half an hour later, he’s bitterly saving the file for the final time, opening a new tab for the company webmail when the departmental chat window pops up with a chirpy blip. He almost ignores it because he has to send this fucking PowerPoint now or so help him, but practically has a heart attack instead when he sees that it’s a message from Cas, a message that reads, ‘I need to see you in my office immediately.’
Oh, he’s screwed now. Cas definitely thought about Dean’s crush and decided he’s really bothered by it. God, this is a mess. Dean spares another minute to send the email because why the hell not at this point and very, very reluctantly rises from his seat. The walk to Cas’ office down the hall feels like an eternity and five short seconds all at once, and Dean can’t even knock to stall any longer because the door is wide open. Cas is facing the window, the Chicago skyline laid out around him, and this is not the time to stare at how the dress shirt and slacks hug his athletic frame, sleeves rolled up to expose his muscles. Dean’s gonna need a twelve-step program to get over his boss.
Cas turns at the sound of Dean clearing his throat, expression serious in a way that makes Dean’s stomach coil uneasily. “Close the door,” he instructs and Dean complies, mouth drying more and more by the second.
When Dean rotates back around, Cas is standing in front of his desk, and Dean swallows hard as he walks toward him. He ducks his head but feels Cas’ gaze raking his entire body, which is unsettling yet simultaneously sends a shiver down his spine.
“Cas,” he begins when they’re a reasonable distance apart for conversation. “I’m... I apologize for the late PowerPoint... and the password,” he shuffles on his feet. “I realize it’s not appropriate.”
“Yes,” Cas agrees and Dean wishes his voice weren’t so damn sexy, though he deflates a little at Cas crossing his arms. “It certainly is inappropriate.”
Dean’s not entirely sure if Cas sounds mad but it’s a departure from his regular, cheerful tone, and that scares him because it’s like he’s ruined a perfectly good professional relationship. Well, they could even be considered friends, to be honest, but all of that has flown out the window now. “I know,” he mumbles helplessly. “I swear, I’ll change it right away. I didn’t intend to- I wasn’t gonna act on my feelings so you don’t need to worry. I’m sorry for- I’m sorry I made things so awkward...”
Cas’ eyes narrow to a squint at that, and his voice sounds- Shit, he sounds even more irritated when he quotes back, “You don’t intend to act on your feelings?”
Dean’s tongue-tied, mind scrambling to analyze what Cas means. Shouldn’t he be relieved to hear that Dean isn’t going to do anything? “Yeah?” he hedges. “I mean, you... have a girlfriend.”
His anxiety goes into overdrive when Cas legitimately rolls his eyes because, oh god, he’s never seen his boss look so annoyed. The worst part is that he has no idea why Cas doesn’t seem placated, and the confusion only mounts when Cas turns his back to him and starts pushing the papers and folders around on his desk. Dean thinks that maybe this is his cue to leave, but then Cas is facing him again, appearing resolute. He says nothing, just reaches out to grab Dean’s wrist and pull him in his direction. Dean barely has a chance to be surprised as he stumbles into Cas, and all he can do is gasp when Cas wraps both arms tight around his waist and kisses him.
Cas’ kiss is demanding and greedy, tongue pushing in against Dean’s as soon as his lips part under the pressure. He grants Dean no time to react and the force of it, the heat of his body, converge into the sexiest brand of intimidating. Dean’s hips instinctively arch into Cas’, drawing out a groan, and Cas twists his fingers in Dean’s hair to pull his head back, grip firm but far from painful, blue eyes almost fully replaced by dark, lust-blown pupils. Dean waits, reeling from the kiss and struggling to breathe as anticipation swells in his chest.
“You are so infuriating,” Cas grits out, voice rough and going straight to the erection straining in Dean’s pants. “Even after all that, you-” He cuts himself off with an honest-to-god growl and tugs Dean hard by his shirt, spinning them around and pushing him against the desk in his place.
“What do you-” the question catches in Dean’s throat, his face seven shades of bewildered. “I don’t-”
Cas crowds him in until the edge of the desk digs into the back of Dean’s thighs. “I...” His hands trail down to Dean’s belt. “Like...” He nips Dean’s bottom lip. “You,” he finishes. “And I mean that in the most indecent and dishonorable way possible.”
-----
It’s comical how wide Dean’s eyes get at Castiel’s blunt statement, and Cas would laugh if he weren’t so turned on. God, Dean looks absolutely delectable, lashes so long and mouth lush, spit-slicked, and wrecked.
“But you...”
“The date I brought to our holiday party is a friend, Dean. I was going to ask you but then I heard that you couldn’t make it because your brother was visiting and-”
“You were gonna...” Dean tapers off; it seems neither of them will be finishing any of their sentences today. His expression becomes really thoughtful, forehead wrinkling in this cute little frown, and then he just says “Oh” like he finally understands everything.
“Yes,” Castiel adds, tilting his head to kiss Dean again because he’s hungering for it. He swallows all of Dean’s soft moans and his dick twitches at the slick sound their lips make when they separate. “And now, I want to make up for lost time.”
Dean whimpers at that, a noise Cas will never tire of hearing, and then it’s a flurry of movement as Dean turns around, hands flat on the desk, Castiel steadying him with both hands solid on his hips.
“Do you want this, Dean?” Castiel asks, hand gliding around to palm at Dean’s hardness through his pants. Dean gasps and tries to thrust into the pressure but Cas just moves with him, not allowing him the gratification.
“Yes,” Dean breathes, eyes fluttering closed. “Yes, Cas, I want-” He takes Castiel’s hand and guides it up onto the metal buckle. “I want you.”
Cas groans and makes quick work of undoing the belt and fly, pulling the pants and boxers down at the same time. Dean moans when the cooler air hits his throbbing erection, and it’s followed by a more impatient protest when Cas leaves to fetch the lube and a condom. When their eyes meet over the desk, Castiel grins at how debauched Dean looks already, bent over and desperate, and he makes a big show of searching for the supplies that are clearly in the bottom drawer, earning a “Hurry up, you bastard” from Dean who’s glaring a whole slew of sexy daggers at him.
“Patience is a virtue,” he chides, indulging Dean regardless, and the relief is palpable on Dean’s face when Cas returns, the room soon filling with more unzipping and the click of the lube cap, the wet sound of liquid gel dripping onto his hand.
He glimpses Dean tucking his lower lip between his teeth as the first finger slips inside, a slow tease that’s hardly satisfactory judging by Dean’s indignant whine. Still, Cas waits for the muscles to relax completely before adding a second digit, and he’s careful as he opens Dean up, fingers twisting and scissoring gently. It’s when they brush against the prostate, however, that Dean jolts like a firework going off, knocking a short stack of manila folders off the desk.
“I’ll have to remember that for next time,” Castiel observes playfully. He rubs the spot again just to induce another shudder from Dean before pulling his fingers out, deftly sheathing himself with the condom, slathering more lube over the latex.
When he finally sinks into Dean, heat surrounds him gloriously tight and hot, making Cas light up all along his spine. Dean’s fingers curl into fists as Cas pushes in inch by inch, the speed evidently agonizing for them both, but Cas nonetheless hangs onto every last ounce of control to move as slowly as he can until he’s buried to the hilt. “Is this alright?” he asks breathlessly, running a hand all over Dean’s back and sides where he can feel the ribs expand and contract with each huge breath.
“God, yes,” Dean groans, head bowing between quivering arms. “I’m not gonna break, Cas, move.”
Castiel laughs, loving the effect he’s having on Dean as he pulls almost all the way out and slams back in with a long, guttural groan.
-----
Dean thinks this is how he’s going to die.
Out of his periphery he sees one of Cas’ large hands strike the desk as the other man builds up a robust rhythm, filling him up again and again. Despite being pinned beneath Cas’ hips, Dean tries to grind back as much as possible because Cas feels too amazing not to, the drag and skid of his thick cock across Dean’s prostate sparking white-hot pleasure all throughout his body.
“Cas, I need...”
“Whatever you want,” Cas grunts, thrusting hard into Dean. “Tell me.”
“You gotta...” Dean rocks back onto Cas’ cock, spreading his legs farther apart to let Cas in deeper. “I need you to touch me.”
Cas quickly yields to his request, wrapping a hand around Dean’s length and slowly pumping up and down in tandem with each snap of his hips. The additional friction sends Dean’s nerve endings ablaze, making him ache with how good it is.
“Been thinking about this since I first saw you,” Cas slurs, unoccupied arm snaking around his waist to pull Dean flush against him. The raspy voice tumbles deliciously into Dean’s ear and he feels another surge of arousal shooting down to his erection, now thrumming and leaking all over Cas’ knuckles.
“Shit, Cas,” Dean pants. “Please, faster. I’m so- I’m so close.”
Castiel growls again - which he should stop doing unless he wants to kill Dean except Dean wants to hear it over and over - and rolls his hips at a brutal pace, his belt buckle cold against Dean’s thighs, breath ragged and scorching on Dean’s nape. When Dean cries out his name again, Cas becomes ruthless, reducing Dean to a gasping, unintelligible mess with both hands scrabbling in vain on the smooth wood underneath him.
“God, you’re beautiful like this,” Cas rumbles low and gruff as he pounds into Dean, punctuating every other word with a sharp plunge of his cock. “Are you gonna come for me, Dean? Think you should, baby, I think you want to.”
“Ngh” is all Dean can reply with because this side of Cas is so unexpected and wildly hot. He bucks back eagerly onto Cas, bottoming out yet mewling for more, and the slap of flesh on flesh seems far too dirty and provocative for broad daylight though he can’t care less at the moment.
“Come on,” Cas says, encouraging him with mind-blowingly perfect touches, fingers smearing precome all over Dean’s cock, and it’s his hand twisting expertly on an upstroke that shoves Dean over the edge at last, tensing and clenching around Cas, collapsing onto the desk as his come covers the dark mahogany in obscene stripes.
Behind him, Cas fucks through the tremors of Dean’s orgasm, hips stuttering as it becomes his turn for incoherency. Dean helps by lazily pushing back to meet each thrust, but it’s his hitched command of “Follow me, Cas” that makes Cas come, cock pulsing and mouth finding purchase on Dean’s clothed shoulder, biting down to muffle his cry as climax overtakes him.
“Jesus, Dean,” Cas breathes, his body a solid weight on Dean’s back. They’re both trembling and feverish and Dean inhales sharply when Cas gently pulls out, shuddering at the loss.
He’s still pretty boneless as Cas maneuvers him upright and around so that they’re face to face, and through heavy-lidded eyes he can make out Cas fixing Dean's boxers and pants and then his own, looking insanely gorgeous even in the haze, hair mussed and face flushed with exertion. Dean lifts a hand to Cas’ hair to mess it up more and Cas grumbles but doesn’t try to stop him. Instead, he waits for Dean to pull his hand back before catching it and bringing it up to his lips, kissing softly across the knuckles. Dean simply watches Cas, heart racing in his chest, and finds himself totally defenseless when Cas locks their eyes and so damn earnestly asks, “You okay?"
Dean wants to laugh because this is all very okay, but Cas looks so endearingly concerned and serious that Dean just pulls him close by his loosened tie and presses their lips together. Cas moans into it, hands finding their grip on either side of Dean’s waist, and they fit together so well that butterflies flutter out from Dean’s stomach and through his mouth in approving little sounds as he relishes the warmth radiating from Cas.
“You,” he gasps when they pull apart, “have a very strong ass.”
Cas bursts out laughing at that because it’s probably the last thing he expected Dean to say after such a romantic kiss, but his eyes are bright and affectionate as he hums, “That would be the running, thanks to you.” Dean’s not sure what that means but is soon distracted by a teasing “Hope that’s not a bad thing.”
“No,” Dean says, kissing the corner of Cas’ mouth. “I like it.”
“I can’t believe it took us nine months,” Cas mutters as he drops his head onto Dean’s shoulder. “It’s like a terrible, drawn-out soap opera.”
“Well,” Dean tangles his fingers into the hairs at Cas’ nape. “More like something on HBO.”
-----
Cas continues to drive Dean nuts, though now it’s in the best ways possible. It takes no time at all for Dean to learn that Cas, who’s really (delightfully) possessive in bed, is also the world’s sweetest boyfriend. They steal kisses in the break room and let their hands brush in the hallway, even planning nerdy double dates with Charlie and Gilda, and every time Cas smiles at him from across the conference table in meetings, Dean is overcome with the cheesy feelings of being head over heels in love.
Another Friday rolls around and he’s getting ready to leave the office, Cas (truly a man after Dean’s own heart) having insisted on taking him to this hole-in-the-wall dive that supposedly serves the best burgers in Chicago. Apparently Guy Fieri also gave the place a thumbs up (Cas watches the Food Network like a religion), so Dean is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Cas pokes his head into Dean’s office at five o’clock on the dot, just as Dean is grabbing his coat, and Dean lets Cas come to him before promptly wrapping his arms around Cas’ neck, body melting against his boyfriend’s frame. Cas chuckles softly and tightens his hold on Dean’s waist as he lays a kiss on the side of his neck. “Ready to go?” he murmurs.
Dean nods, and as they’re pulling apart Cas asks, “Did you forward me that market research report, by the way?”
“Ugh, that’s what I was forgetting,” Dean sighs. “Sorry, go ahead and send the file to yourself.” He waves toward his desktop and Cas smiles, memory undoubtedly flashing back to one revelatory afternoon three weeks ago.
He frowns, however, when the red error message appears at his name. “Did you change your password?”
“Oh, yeah I did,” Dean smirks as he ambles over to Cas, putting his mouth close to Cas’ ear. Cas huffs out a laugh at what Dean whispers to him and rolls his eyes fondly.
“I have a lot to live up to,” Cas muses as he types ‘hardassCasNovak’ into the awaiting box.
-----
The burgers, as it turns out, are the best Dean’s ever had, and he gratuitously moans around his a little (a lot) to rile Cas up, eliciting growls and narrowed eyes that are sure to pay off later. And, indeed, when ‘later’ arrives, Cas’ ass most definitely does not disappoint.
Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): None
Summary: Dean is secretly in love with Cas, his sexy and disarmingly nice boss, but he’s done absolutely nothing about it except bemoan his pitiful state to Charlie. Little does he know, Cas has been harboring an infatuation of his own, and all of their tension blows up one day (so to speak) over a sleek, mahogany desk.
Notes: I just needed an outlet for the turbulent feelings I get for a dominant Cas (I find it insanely hot, basically). I couldn’t help myself. Maybe Misha bled a little into the fic too. Ugh, sorry I’m not sorry. My only hope is that you enjoy the fic 'cause I'm proud of it, hee!
Linked on my Tumblr.
Cross-posted at my Ao3.
The thing is, Dean’s boss drives him a little crazy.
It’s not that the guy is mean, or even a hard ass, though it’d make Dean’s life a lot easier if he were. No, in fact, Castiel Novak is just the opposite - brilliant, charming, a total sweetheart - and, yeah, Dean knows he’s talking about a six-foot-tall, male adult here but it’s all true, especially the last part. What else do you call someone who remembers people’s food allergies during a lunch meeting?
Castiel (or Cas, as he prefers) is the youngest to ever make partner at their marketing company (like, in the entire history of the firm, across all branches). You’d never know it from his modesty, though, a stark contrast to some of the others with half his brains yet thrice his ego, and a quarter of his paycheck, Dean would presume. Plus, it was a hot topic around the water cooler for a while when Cas was the only ‘higher-up’ to attend the birthday party Charlie threw for her daughter at the park, arriving with pastel-colored You’re Four Years Old! balloons, smile peeking out from behind a giant stuffed teddy bear. He’d even shucked the suit and tie for a t-shirt and jeans, looking so casual and hot. Dean would know; he was there, standing by the swing set with Charlie’s wife Gilda, ogling Cas and his tanned, freaking demigod arms and trying not to drool onto his cake.
Okay, so maybe the real reason Dean’s frustrated is that he’s a bit in love with Castiel. But, honestly, everyone else is too and his crush (god, it’s so junior high) doesn’t mean much at all. Pointless, actually, because Cas has a girlfriend. Dean’s never seen her but, according to eyewitnesses from the holiday party he missed last winter, the girl is petite and attractive in that smoky eyes, sultry voice kind of way. “Probably an animal in bed” was Charlie’s assessment and Dean had wanted to claw at his eyeballs, mostly out of hideous jealousy.
Of course, none of this stops Dean from spilling coffee on his tie when Cas saunters into the break room and claps him on the shoulder with a good-natured “Need a caffeine fix already?”
Dean is mortified and just freezes in his place while Cas gently pries the mug from Dean’s hand and rushes over to grab the paper towels. And if Dean melts a little at how carefully his boss dabs at the stains, he tries his damnedest not to show it.
“I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean to alarm you,” Cas says in that... god, in that low, gravelly voice, and he’s got his brows furrowed too, guiltily like he’s just run over someone’s dog.
“No, uh, no, it’s fine...”
Cas sighs, tossing the used towels in the trash. Dean expects another apology (because this is Cas), but he’s thrown for a loop when Cas reaches up to his wet tie and starts undoing it, long fingers so nimble and no, Dean, he’s not undressing you, okay, stop with the inappropriate thoughts.
“Um?” he squeaks out instead, which is ineloquent but better than 'oh god yes keep going.' Cas only smiles as he pulls the narrow fabric through Dean’s collar, and sets it aside on the counter before repeating the steps with his own tie. It’s making no sense so Dean subtly pinches his thigh and, yup, this isn’t a dream. Maybe he’s hallucinating then, or dead, or something.
“Er...” Dean is totally incoherent now that Cas is wrapping the tie around his, as in Dean's, neck. They’re standing really close and he can see all the ways the harsh fluorescent lights mellow out in Cas’ blue eyes.
“You can borrow it for the day,” Cas says nonchalantly like he’s just lent Dean a fucking pen. “I keep an extra one in my office for emergencies.”
“Oh...” Dean has got to pull himself out of this monosyllabic brain freeze. “That’s...” Nope, not there yet. “Smart.” ... Shit.
Cas laughs, all gums and crinkled eyes like he’s charmed or something. By what, Dean’s not sure, but then again, Cas is nice to everyone. In the next fifteen seconds, Cas finishes off a half Windsor knot so perfect he could film a YouTube tutorial, and proceeds to straighten out a few wrinkles on Dean’s jacket before walking out, throwing a “Don’t forget the projections PowerPoint due by noon” over his shoulder.
Dean just stares dumbly at the empty doorway until he realizes that he’s half-hard and almost hyperventilating. He groans and scrubs at his face and yanks his soiled tie off the counter before heading back to his office, passing Charlie on the way. She quirks an eyebrow at the blue tie on his shirt and the striped one in his hand.
“Wait, isn’t that-”
“Yeah,” Dean huffs, trudging into his office. Charlie follows and shuts the door, apparently determined to wheedle out the latest chapter of Dean's unrequited love saga.
“So, why are you wearing our hunky boss’ tie?”
“Ugh, Charlie, don’t say ‘hunky.’ This isn’t the nineties.”
“Oh sorry I’m not up-to-date on the lingo. I haven’t been interested in a man since the nineties,” Charlie snipes. When Dean rolls his eyes, she relents, “Fine. Why are you wearing our dreamy boss’ tie? Do you still use that adjective? Am I being hip enough?”
“God, Charlie, shut up,” Dean whines. “I’m wearing it because I spilled coffee on mine, okay? He saw it happen and gave me his to wear. No big deal.”
“Right,” Charlie’s not buying it. “No big deal. That’s why you’re blushing so hard, huh?” She becomes more sympathetic at how pained Dean looks, though, and comes closer to card her fingers through his hair; Dean hates to admit how comforting he finds that. “Why did you spill your coffee?” she asks, and the tone is softer and kind, not her usual sarcastic one.
“He put his hand on my shoulder.” God, it sounds even more stupid out loud. Fuck, he’s so pathetic. Fuck. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with liking someone, Dean,” Charlie assures him, and it’s times like these that Dean is so grateful that they’re friends. “Hey, wanna sneak out for a pick-me-up? Ice cream, coffee-” she bites back a giggle when Dean grimaces. “Okay, no coffee. Um, pie? Whatever you want.”
“Pie,” Dean echoes reverently, mind already shuffling through the selection of fillings available at the corner bakery. “Pie sounds good.”
Charlie grins and links their arms together, dragging him out of the room. “My treat.” Dean can’t help but smile back and lets her pull him away, the PowerPoint on his computer screen unfortunately forgotten.
-----
Castiel is really frustrated with Dean Winchester.
Here’s the deal. He’s found Dean completely adorable from the moment they were introduced, which was almost a year ago when he transferred here from the Boston office. Everyone else seemed so formal and then there was Dean, greeting him with this wide moonbeam of a smile and big green eyes and, yeah, Castiel definitely spent a second too long just appreciating before they shook hands. He was smitten, and he’s been dropping clues of his interest for the past nine months.
Dean is whip smart, a sharp and impressive project manager, an asset, et cetera, but he’s so hopelessly oblivious that Castiel’s added an extra two miles to his morning runs and ten minutes of jerk-off time in the shower just to be less antsy and blue-balled around him. It’s like every single flirtation goes completely over his head, and Castiel can’t comprehend why everyone’s gotten the memo that Meg is only a friend except for Dean. Well, except for Dean and Charlie Bradbury.
That’s another thing. Castiel went to a four-year-old’s birthday picnic because he knew Dean would be there. Don’t get him wrong; he really likes Charlie, and her adopted daughter Lily (named after Lily Potter) is a tiny heartbreaker already, but he totally went to that party hoping that Dean would take a freaking hint. Too bad Dean chatted with Gilda the entire time and paid no attention to Cas.
God, even today. First of all, yes, he did give Dean his tie just to see what it would feel like to (partly) undress him, and even then Dean only peered back with those stupid eyes and stupid parted mouth. (Castiel might’ve cracked and pushed Dean down onto his knees had his hands not chickened out at the last second to attend to some invisible wrinkles on Dean’s shoulders instead.)
He tugs glumly at the new tie he’s carelessly strung around his neck and glances at the clock. 11:58 am. Thank fuck, finally. He pushes back on his swivel chair and gets up, tossing his pen on the desk before heading out the door toward Dean’s office. He hears the pen roll and clatter onto the floor but doesn’t even blink - and he’s usually such a neat freak.
Dean is typing so furiously that he misses Cas’ two rounds of knocks on his door, and jumps in his seat when Cas decides to just walk in.
“Uh, um, Cas!” he says too loudly, and Castiel doesn’t miss the frantic clicks that are likely putting the computer to sleep.
“Is the PowerPoint finished, Dean?” he asks, trying to mask the amusement in his voice.
“Yeah! Yeah, I was about to email it to you.” Dean squirms at the knowing look cast his way, and Cas has got to admit that a flustered Dean is one pretty sight. He pictures that blush spreading down to an equally flushed, naked chest until he squashes the thought, clearing his throat with a grin.
“Well, as long as I’m here, I could just look through it now.”
“Oh, uh,” Dean starts to fidget. “No, um... I mean, it’d be more comfortable for you to just... you know, open it at your desk... I don’t have any extra chairs... in here.”
Castiel is already walking around Dean’s desk and soon he’s leaning over Dean’s right shoulder, moving the mouse to wake up the screen. He’s close enough to smell Dean’s aftershave and feels the heat pool dangerously in his stomach. “No, this is fine,” he manages calmly.
Dean’s still shifting like a kid in trouble and normally Cas would be sympathetic, but he’s just so fucking exasperated with the guy that he wants to keep pushing his buttons. He leans in more so his abdomen touches Dean’s arm, and it’s gratifying when Dean’s breath catches at the contact.
Meanwhile, Dean’s computer turns up a small text box for the password, and Castiel smiles at the icon of Dean grinning next to a taller, dimpled guy. That must be his brother, Sam.
“What’s your password, Dean?” Castiel asks right into the shell of Dean’s ear (on purpose). There’s another sharp intake of breath.
“Um... I’ll- I can type it in,” Dean stammers weakly.
“My hand’s already here,” Castiel persists, glad that Dean can’t see the mischievous expression on his face. “Tell me what it is.”
“No, no, I can-”
“Dean,” Cas says sternly, “the PowerPoint is officially late now and I have other work to do. You can change your password after I leave. What is it?”
Castiel thinks he imagines the soft whimper that escapes Dean’s mouth, but perhaps not given the panic-stricken look on the guy’s face. He doesn’t understand what the big deal is; he’s pretty sure Dean wasn’t watching porn or anything when he walked in.
“Dean,” he prompts again. Honestly, he’s not mad. Just entertained. He’s an asshole.
“It’s...” Dean pauses. Then, in one rush of breath, “It’s cashew novel.”
“What?” Castiel’s fingers hover over the keyboard. Weird password. “Cashew what?”
“No, it’s...” Dean sighs shakily, fingers fisting in his pants. “It’s...”
“Dean, come on, I have a meeting in-”
“Castiel Novak!”
Cas blinks. “... Yes?” he replies, because what else is he supposed to say.
“No,” Dean huffs. “My password. It’s Castiel Novak.” His gaze falls to his hands. “One word. No caps,” he adds in a quieter voice, resigned.
It takes Cas a moment to properly register this information, and when he does, a laugh bubbles out of his chest so suddenly that he has no shot at suppressing it. Dean, poor guy, jerks his head up in shock, heat flaring red on that gorgeous, freckled face, and Cas shakes his head in an attempt to convey that he’s not laughing at him. Oh god, he can’t stop, though, and he feels ridiculous. Because fuck him sideways he wasted all this time wondering if Dean would ever reciprocate his interest, and all this time Dean’s been typing Cas’ damn name into his Apple every day at work.
“I’m sorry, it’s just...” Cas lets his hand drop to Dean’s shoulder, and the other man flinches a little but doesn’t move otherwise. “Email me the PowerPoint when you’re done.”
Dean eyes him somewhat suspiciously but nods with a barely audible “Okay,” and Castiel turns to leave the room, remembering to shoot him a smile because, oh man, this changes everything.
-----
“Fuck...” Dean curses as the door shuts behind Castiel. He puts both elbows on his desk and rests his head on the open palms, wanting to pull violently at his pair or, better yet, vanish altogether. (Charlie mentioned some device called a Mousehole that they use in Marvel movies to disappear through the floor of anything and, god, he’d pay big, big money for one right about now.)
The laughing made it even worse and Dean feels like a preteen who’s been caught writing Mrs. Castiel Novak all over his fucking binder, complete with a heart over the i. Cas must be doubling over, probably texting his stupid girlfriend about it, or maybe not since he’s nice enough not to and, ugh, why is Dean defending him?
He types the password in shame (so much shame) and is greeted by the bar graph he was working on when Cas interrupted him. He didn’t mean to come back late from the bakery but Charlie let him vent about, well, Cas, and it felt good to have a sounding board for his numerous pent-up feelings. By the time they rushed back, though, it was already 11:45 am, and Excel spreadsheets and their bazillion cells could be a real bitch under time stress. He’s even starting to regret the cherry pie, and he never regrets pie.
Half an hour later, he’s bitterly saving the file for the final time, opening a new tab for the company webmail when the departmental chat window pops up with a chirpy blip. He almost ignores it because he has to send this fucking PowerPoint now or so help him, but practically has a heart attack instead when he sees that it’s a message from Cas, a message that reads, ‘I need to see you in my office immediately.’
Oh, he’s screwed now. Cas definitely thought about Dean’s crush and decided he’s really bothered by it. God, this is a mess. Dean spares another minute to send the email because why the hell not at this point and very, very reluctantly rises from his seat. The walk to Cas’ office down the hall feels like an eternity and five short seconds all at once, and Dean can’t even knock to stall any longer because the door is wide open. Cas is facing the window, the Chicago skyline laid out around him, and this is not the time to stare at how the dress shirt and slacks hug his athletic frame, sleeves rolled up to expose his muscles. Dean’s gonna need a twelve-step program to get over his boss.
Cas turns at the sound of Dean clearing his throat, expression serious in a way that makes Dean’s stomach coil uneasily. “Close the door,” he instructs and Dean complies, mouth drying more and more by the second.
When Dean rotates back around, Cas is standing in front of his desk, and Dean swallows hard as he walks toward him. He ducks his head but feels Cas’ gaze raking his entire body, which is unsettling yet simultaneously sends a shiver down his spine.
“Cas,” he begins when they’re a reasonable distance apart for conversation. “I’m... I apologize for the late PowerPoint... and the password,” he shuffles on his feet. “I realize it’s not appropriate.”
“Yes,” Cas agrees and Dean wishes his voice weren’t so damn sexy, though he deflates a little at Cas crossing his arms. “It certainly is inappropriate.”
Dean’s not entirely sure if Cas sounds mad but it’s a departure from his regular, cheerful tone, and that scares him because it’s like he’s ruined a perfectly good professional relationship. Well, they could even be considered friends, to be honest, but all of that has flown out the window now. “I know,” he mumbles helplessly. “I swear, I’ll change it right away. I didn’t intend to- I wasn’t gonna act on my feelings so you don’t need to worry. I’m sorry for- I’m sorry I made things so awkward...”
Cas’ eyes narrow to a squint at that, and his voice sounds- Shit, he sounds even more irritated when he quotes back, “You don’t intend to act on your feelings?”
Dean’s tongue-tied, mind scrambling to analyze what Cas means. Shouldn’t he be relieved to hear that Dean isn’t going to do anything? “Yeah?” he hedges. “I mean, you... have a girlfriend.”
His anxiety goes into overdrive when Cas legitimately rolls his eyes because, oh god, he’s never seen his boss look so annoyed. The worst part is that he has no idea why Cas doesn’t seem placated, and the confusion only mounts when Cas turns his back to him and starts pushing the papers and folders around on his desk. Dean thinks that maybe this is his cue to leave, but then Cas is facing him again, appearing resolute. He says nothing, just reaches out to grab Dean’s wrist and pull him in his direction. Dean barely has a chance to be surprised as he stumbles into Cas, and all he can do is gasp when Cas wraps both arms tight around his waist and kisses him.
Cas’ kiss is demanding and greedy, tongue pushing in against Dean’s as soon as his lips part under the pressure. He grants Dean no time to react and the force of it, the heat of his body, converge into the sexiest brand of intimidating. Dean’s hips instinctively arch into Cas’, drawing out a groan, and Cas twists his fingers in Dean’s hair to pull his head back, grip firm but far from painful, blue eyes almost fully replaced by dark, lust-blown pupils. Dean waits, reeling from the kiss and struggling to breathe as anticipation swells in his chest.
“You are so infuriating,” Cas grits out, voice rough and going straight to the erection straining in Dean’s pants. “Even after all that, you-” He cuts himself off with an honest-to-god growl and tugs Dean hard by his shirt, spinning them around and pushing him against the desk in his place.
“What do you-” the question catches in Dean’s throat, his face seven shades of bewildered. “I don’t-”
Cas crowds him in until the edge of the desk digs into the back of Dean’s thighs. “I...” His hands trail down to Dean’s belt. “Like...” He nips Dean’s bottom lip. “You,” he finishes. “And I mean that in the most indecent and dishonorable way possible.”
-----
It’s comical how wide Dean’s eyes get at Castiel’s blunt statement, and Cas would laugh if he weren’t so turned on. God, Dean looks absolutely delectable, lashes so long and mouth lush, spit-slicked, and wrecked.
“But you...”
“The date I brought to our holiday party is a friend, Dean. I was going to ask you but then I heard that you couldn’t make it because your brother was visiting and-”
“You were gonna...” Dean tapers off; it seems neither of them will be finishing any of their sentences today. His expression becomes really thoughtful, forehead wrinkling in this cute little frown, and then he just says “Oh” like he finally understands everything.
“Yes,” Castiel adds, tilting his head to kiss Dean again because he’s hungering for it. He swallows all of Dean’s soft moans and his dick twitches at the slick sound their lips make when they separate. “And now, I want to make up for lost time.”
Dean whimpers at that, a noise Cas will never tire of hearing, and then it’s a flurry of movement as Dean turns around, hands flat on the desk, Castiel steadying him with both hands solid on his hips.
“Do you want this, Dean?” Castiel asks, hand gliding around to palm at Dean’s hardness through his pants. Dean gasps and tries to thrust into the pressure but Cas just moves with him, not allowing him the gratification.
“Yes,” Dean breathes, eyes fluttering closed. “Yes, Cas, I want-” He takes Castiel’s hand and guides it up onto the metal buckle. “I want you.”
Cas groans and makes quick work of undoing the belt and fly, pulling the pants and boxers down at the same time. Dean moans when the cooler air hits his throbbing erection, and it’s followed by a more impatient protest when Cas leaves to fetch the lube and a condom. When their eyes meet over the desk, Castiel grins at how debauched Dean looks already, bent over and desperate, and he makes a big show of searching for the supplies that are clearly in the bottom drawer, earning a “Hurry up, you bastard” from Dean who’s glaring a whole slew of sexy daggers at him.
“Patience is a virtue,” he chides, indulging Dean regardless, and the relief is palpable on Dean’s face when Cas returns, the room soon filling with more unzipping and the click of the lube cap, the wet sound of liquid gel dripping onto his hand.
He glimpses Dean tucking his lower lip between his teeth as the first finger slips inside, a slow tease that’s hardly satisfactory judging by Dean’s indignant whine. Still, Cas waits for the muscles to relax completely before adding a second digit, and he’s careful as he opens Dean up, fingers twisting and scissoring gently. It’s when they brush against the prostate, however, that Dean jolts like a firework going off, knocking a short stack of manila folders off the desk.
“I’ll have to remember that for next time,” Castiel observes playfully. He rubs the spot again just to induce another shudder from Dean before pulling his fingers out, deftly sheathing himself with the condom, slathering more lube over the latex.
When he finally sinks into Dean, heat surrounds him gloriously tight and hot, making Cas light up all along his spine. Dean’s fingers curl into fists as Cas pushes in inch by inch, the speed evidently agonizing for them both, but Cas nonetheless hangs onto every last ounce of control to move as slowly as he can until he’s buried to the hilt. “Is this alright?” he asks breathlessly, running a hand all over Dean’s back and sides where he can feel the ribs expand and contract with each huge breath.
“God, yes,” Dean groans, head bowing between quivering arms. “I’m not gonna break, Cas, move.”
Castiel laughs, loving the effect he’s having on Dean as he pulls almost all the way out and slams back in with a long, guttural groan.
-----
Dean thinks this is how he’s going to die.
Out of his periphery he sees one of Cas’ large hands strike the desk as the other man builds up a robust rhythm, filling him up again and again. Despite being pinned beneath Cas’ hips, Dean tries to grind back as much as possible because Cas feels too amazing not to, the drag and skid of his thick cock across Dean’s prostate sparking white-hot pleasure all throughout his body.
“Cas, I need...”
“Whatever you want,” Cas grunts, thrusting hard into Dean. “Tell me.”
“You gotta...” Dean rocks back onto Cas’ cock, spreading his legs farther apart to let Cas in deeper. “I need you to touch me.”
Cas quickly yields to his request, wrapping a hand around Dean’s length and slowly pumping up and down in tandem with each snap of his hips. The additional friction sends Dean’s nerve endings ablaze, making him ache with how good it is.
“Been thinking about this since I first saw you,” Cas slurs, unoccupied arm snaking around his waist to pull Dean flush against him. The raspy voice tumbles deliciously into Dean’s ear and he feels another surge of arousal shooting down to his erection, now thrumming and leaking all over Cas’ knuckles.
“Shit, Cas,” Dean pants. “Please, faster. I’m so- I’m so close.”
Castiel growls again - which he should stop doing unless he wants to kill Dean except Dean wants to hear it over and over - and rolls his hips at a brutal pace, his belt buckle cold against Dean’s thighs, breath ragged and scorching on Dean’s nape. When Dean cries out his name again, Cas becomes ruthless, reducing Dean to a gasping, unintelligible mess with both hands scrabbling in vain on the smooth wood underneath him.
“God, you’re beautiful like this,” Cas rumbles low and gruff as he pounds into Dean, punctuating every other word with a sharp plunge of his cock. “Are you gonna come for me, Dean? Think you should, baby, I think you want to.”
“Ngh” is all Dean can reply with because this side of Cas is so unexpected and wildly hot. He bucks back eagerly onto Cas, bottoming out yet mewling for more, and the slap of flesh on flesh seems far too dirty and provocative for broad daylight though he can’t care less at the moment.
“Come on,” Cas says, encouraging him with mind-blowingly perfect touches, fingers smearing precome all over Dean’s cock, and it’s his hand twisting expertly on an upstroke that shoves Dean over the edge at last, tensing and clenching around Cas, collapsing onto the desk as his come covers the dark mahogany in obscene stripes.
Behind him, Cas fucks through the tremors of Dean’s orgasm, hips stuttering as it becomes his turn for incoherency. Dean helps by lazily pushing back to meet each thrust, but it’s his hitched command of “Follow me, Cas” that makes Cas come, cock pulsing and mouth finding purchase on Dean’s clothed shoulder, biting down to muffle his cry as climax overtakes him.
“Jesus, Dean,” Cas breathes, his body a solid weight on Dean’s back. They’re both trembling and feverish and Dean inhales sharply when Cas gently pulls out, shuddering at the loss.
He’s still pretty boneless as Cas maneuvers him upright and around so that they’re face to face, and through heavy-lidded eyes he can make out Cas fixing Dean's boxers and pants and then his own, looking insanely gorgeous even in the haze, hair mussed and face flushed with exertion. Dean lifts a hand to Cas’ hair to mess it up more and Cas grumbles but doesn’t try to stop him. Instead, he waits for Dean to pull his hand back before catching it and bringing it up to his lips, kissing softly across the knuckles. Dean simply watches Cas, heart racing in his chest, and finds himself totally defenseless when Cas locks their eyes and so damn earnestly asks, “You okay?"
Dean wants to laugh because this is all very okay, but Cas looks so endearingly concerned and serious that Dean just pulls him close by his loosened tie and presses their lips together. Cas moans into it, hands finding their grip on either side of Dean’s waist, and they fit together so well that butterflies flutter out from Dean’s stomach and through his mouth in approving little sounds as he relishes the warmth radiating from Cas.
“You,” he gasps when they pull apart, “have a very strong ass.”
Cas bursts out laughing at that because it’s probably the last thing he expected Dean to say after such a romantic kiss, but his eyes are bright and affectionate as he hums, “That would be the running, thanks to you.” Dean’s not sure what that means but is soon distracted by a teasing “Hope that’s not a bad thing.”
“No,” Dean says, kissing the corner of Cas’ mouth. “I like it.”
“I can’t believe it took us nine months,” Cas mutters as he drops his head onto Dean’s shoulder. “It’s like a terrible, drawn-out soap opera.”
“Well,” Dean tangles his fingers into the hairs at Cas’ nape. “More like something on HBO.”
-----
Cas continues to drive Dean nuts, though now it’s in the best ways possible. It takes no time at all for Dean to learn that Cas, who’s really (delightfully) possessive in bed, is also the world’s sweetest boyfriend. They steal kisses in the break room and let their hands brush in the hallway, even planning nerdy double dates with Charlie and Gilda, and every time Cas smiles at him from across the conference table in meetings, Dean is overcome with the cheesy feelings of being head over heels in love.
Another Friday rolls around and he’s getting ready to leave the office, Cas (truly a man after Dean’s own heart) having insisted on taking him to this hole-in-the-wall dive that supposedly serves the best burgers in Chicago. Apparently Guy Fieri also gave the place a thumbs up (Cas watches the Food Network like a religion), so Dean is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Cas pokes his head into Dean’s office at five o’clock on the dot, just as Dean is grabbing his coat, and Dean lets Cas come to him before promptly wrapping his arms around Cas’ neck, body melting against his boyfriend’s frame. Cas chuckles softly and tightens his hold on Dean’s waist as he lays a kiss on the side of his neck. “Ready to go?” he murmurs.
Dean nods, and as they’re pulling apart Cas asks, “Did you forward me that market research report, by the way?”
“Ugh, that’s what I was forgetting,” Dean sighs. “Sorry, go ahead and send the file to yourself.” He waves toward his desktop and Cas smiles, memory undoubtedly flashing back to one revelatory afternoon three weeks ago.
He frowns, however, when the red error message appears at his name. “Did you change your password?”
“Oh, yeah I did,” Dean smirks as he ambles over to Cas, putting his mouth close to Cas’ ear. Cas huffs out a laugh at what Dean whispers to him and rolls his eyes fondly.
“I have a lot to live up to,” Cas muses as he types ‘hardassCasNovak’ into the awaiting box.
-----
The burgers, as it turns out, are the best Dean’s ever had, and he gratuitously moans around his a little (a lot) to rile Cas up, eliciting growls and narrowed eyes that are sure to pay off later. And, indeed, when ‘later’ arrives, Cas’ ass most definitely does not disappoint.