fic: The Wonders of Google
Title: The Wonders of Google
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Chuck, fans
Summary: Dean can't sleep, so he googles himself. He's a little surprised when he finds porn.
Spoilers: nothing too specific, but I guess general for s4. Post apocalypse.
Disclaimer: Not mine, damn.
Warnings: Slash, rimming, probably blasphemy
The alarm clock flashes 04:17, the digits so bright they seem angry and mocking. Sleep should be overcoming him by this hour, but it’s just not happening. It’s not that he isn’t tired, per se, it’s just that he isn’t used to this much sleep; is not used to taking care of his body and soul. Usually, Sammy would be trying to wake him up at the crack of dawn, and after a short fight over who gets to shower first, they’d hit the road, sedated with massive amounts of caffeine and ready for the next hunt. But life has been different for the Winchesters in the six months since Lucifer has been defeated.
Dean turns to his right side, propping himself up on his elbow to see that, yes, Castiel is very much asleep. He sighs and gets off the queen-sized bed they share, slipping into Cas’ blue pajama bottoms that are discarded on the floor. The angel is quite possessive when it comes to his belongings--probably because he never had anything he could call ‘mine’ before, never had ownership of anything-- but Dean is fairly certain he won’t mind his crotch nuzzling the bottoms.
Noticing Sammy left his laptop on their coffee table, he turns it on and smirks to himself as he types in “Samrocks” in the password field. Works every time. Not that Dean has any right to make fun of Sam’s password choice; after all, his own password for everything has been “Zeppelinrulz” for years.
Dean’s not really sure why he turned the damn thing on; he’s not really a tech kind of guy, and he’s stared at Pam Anderson’s tits so many times before the novelty wore off.
Next to it, however, is the newest volume of Chuck’s work; what Cas likes to refer to as “The Winchester Gospel”. Dean snickers a little to himself, because the idea that there’s a freaking series about their lives is preposterous. But then, the curiosity chip activates in his head, and he types Google.com into the URL. In the search field, he types in “Dean Winchester”. Wikipedia claims he is a fictional character in Chuck’s books; “One of the protagonists in Supernatural”. It’s a little offensive and a little funny, really. He scrolls down the page and reads about what he and Sam already discovered on their first attempt at research - “Wincest”. He gags a little at the back of his throat and scrolls further down, because he really doesn’t want to read about what those crazy fans think he and his brother are doing behind closed doors. As he reads his Wiki page, a section titled “D/C” catches his attention; “A popular pairing among slashers, referring to a sexual/romantic relationship between Dean and Castiel, the angel who rescued him from hell.”
Dean’s jaw drops.
*
By 09:00 a.m. he’s read about thirty slash stories, ranging from soppy declarations of love to what has to be hardcore porn, hands down.
“Cas. Cas, wake up.” He attempts to shake his partner awake, because if 9 hours of sleep are enough for a human, they should more than suffice for an angel of the lord. “We have fans!”
Castiel opens his eyes, dazed from sleep and then his brows crease. “Dean, if you woke me up again to tell me about how you’re a Guitar Hero God, so help me - ”
“Well, I am, but it’s not that!” clarifies Dean. “We have fans. You and I.”
Castiel looks even more confused now; his nostrils flair and he gives Dean a look that is somewhat annoyed and somewhat curious.
“What are you talking about?” asks the angel as he adjusts himself to a sitting position, the thin blanket covering only his crotch. The muscles on his chest and legs seem to glisten in the now sun-lit room. And Dean will have you know, that if you haven’t seen Cas when he’s just woken up, you’re missing the fucking prettiest sight your eyes can feast on. Not that Dean will ever give you the opportunity, mind you. But the next time you linger your sight on the sunset, or the Grand Canyon, or the fucking City of Lights - just know that it all looks like a pile of feces next to a freshly awakened, thoroughly fucked-out Cas.
“Dean?” Cas asks, an adorable frown forming on his rosy lips.
Dean clears his throat and mentally reaches for his trail of thought. “Umm. We have fans. Or at least, Chuck’s versions of us do.”
When it’s apparent Castiel is still not getting the drift, the hunter sighs. “You know the fans of, ah, The Winchester Gospel?” - He still can’t help but chuckle a little at the name - “well, they’re, ah, apparently quite fond of us. As in, fond of me and you boinking in the back of the Impala, or anywhere else really.”
“Oh.” Replies Cas, and a serene expression of Eureka! passes his features. “I knew that.” He stretches on the bed diagonally, his toes curling upwards before trailing up the other man’s thigh.
“You…you knew?” Dean asks in disbelief, his eyes opening wide.
“Yes. I’ve read a few of their…supplements to the plot.”
“You…read them.” The hunter repeats, registering the new piece of information. Cas flat out refuses to watch porn, but apparently, he’s fine with reading it. “But… how do they even know? I mean, Chuck hasn’t even put it in the books!’’
Castiel smirks, then, a gesture he surely picked up (and mastered) from his human partner. His big toe ascends up Dean’s thigh, pressing lightly. “Chuck did not need to spell it out in order for it to be clear, Dean. We wrote it ourselves with each lingering gaze we exchanged.”
Dean laughs then, because a) Cas talks way too funny, and b) it is so freaking true. He kind of wants to tell Cas he loves him, right there, but that would make the moment way too chick-flick to Dean’s taste, and he can’t have that. So he says “you may have a point, there,” instead.
The angel’s smirk widens, as if he’s just read his lover’s thoughts. And it’s not surprising, really, because Castiel has been able to see right through Dean from the very first minute. His azure eyes linger below Dean’s waist, noticing his pajama bottoms are hanging from his hips. The hunter sends him a dirty leer in reply, daring him to comment. Instead, Castiel hooks a finger in the front, and pulls Dean on top of him, their bare chests flush against each other. “Those are mine.” He whispers low in his human’s ear, before biting on the lobe.
“Didn’t think you’d mind sharing.” His partner replies, rubbing his hardening cock against the angel’s.
Castiel’s hands plunge inside the bottoms, sliding the material down the muscular legs before cupping Dean’s perfect ass with two firm palms, when Dean, all of the sudden, pulls away. “Why do they always assume I’m the bottom?”
Castiel blinks, hands stopping their movements, and stares at his lover as if he’s gone absolutely mad. “In the stories!” Dean whines in explanation. “More often then not, they write me as the bottom! Why?”
The angel blinks harder at that, his brows furrowing in seriousness. “Dean, you do bottom.”
“So do you!” Dean shots in defense. Because hey, fictional or not, he is Dean fucking Winchester, and he has a reputation to uphold.
“So what is the problem?” rosy lips form an adorable pout begging to be kissed away. But, first thing’s first.
“Because they always write me as the bottom!” the hunter growls in frustration. “I mean, look at me, Cas! I am big and manly, and fucking awesome! How dare they make me into some sissy!”
Castiel chuckles, untangling the thin sheet from his legs and waist before flipping their position, lying flat on top of Dean.
“So, you don’t like it when I do this…” he trails off to scrape sharp teeth against Dean’s torso, licking every newly-formed trail of bite-marks he leaves behind. Dean writhes and whimpers beneath him, so Castiel adds “or this…” before aggressively pushing Dean’s legs open, kissing the inside of his thighs and biting hard as he draws closer to his target. He sticks his tongue out, licking behind Dean’s balls - a quick, jabbing motion that has Dean bucking into oblivion. And with an exasperated sigh, Cas pulls away.
“Well, then. I guess I’ll just have to stop, since it bothers you so.”
“Cas, you son of a bitch! Get back in there!” Dean commands, voice hoarse and raw, thick with want and need.
Castiel smirks before saying “but Dean, you don’t like it - ” but Dean is not a fan of blue-balls, so he grabs a handful of Cas’ hair and shoves his face between his legs. He feels Castiel smirk around his length as he takes him whole, licking and twisting his tongue around it as if it's a sinfully delicious candy with a surprise in the middle. The hunter threads his finger in luscious dark locks, but then the heat and tightness is lost with a loud pop of Castiel’s mouth.
“Cas - ” Dean growls in protest, but Cas shuts him up with a wet tongue circling his entrance. Dean gasps, throwing his head back and fucking ready to beg for Cas to do more - but apparently good things do happen, and his prayers are answered, and there must be a God - because Castiel’s tongue probes inside Dean’s hole. The younger male fights not to squirm as heat and slickness and warmth all press inside of him with a jab of Cas’ tongue. The angel pushes further, past the tight ring of muscles and licks inside his lover to find the sweet spot. Dean trashes on the bed, clutching the sheets until his knuckles turn white, mumbling for Cas to go deeper, but the angel just ignores him and pulls out. Dean is about to punch the smirking shit right off of Castiel’s face, when he angles his dick at his hole, nudging against it with an even wider, more obnoxious smirk plastered all over his fucking face. And Dean is seriously pissed off and on edge here, but then Cas pushes inside him and all is forgiven. Cas is thick and pulsing inside him, swelling against his walls. When the angel thrusts out and back in, hitting the jackpot dead on, Dean makes no attempt to disguise him moan - growl - of pleasure, and has no problem sounding like the whore that he is. Knowing Cas, it only serves to turn the kinky son of a bitch on even more. He might be an angel of the Lord, but there is nothing even remotely angelic about his behavior in the bedroom. In fact, his stamina is un-diminishable, and he seems to be up and at it every waking moment. Which is, you know, all nice and dandy, because Castiel’s an angel; but he seems to forget - or maybe he just plain doesn’t care - that his partner is very much human. Not that Dean’s complaining. Well, not really.
Cas picks up the pace, slamming inside Dean with a speed that could make Clark Kent sweat, and it burns and hurts and oh. So. Fucking. Good. Castiel bites on Dean’s exposed neck, breaking the flesh and sucking under his jaw. Dean lurches his hand between Cas’ shoulder-blades, digging his fingernails to tear skin, leaving angry red marks he knows Cas loves; all serving as encouragement to make him pound harder, faster. He grabs Cas’ chin and tilts his head, pulling him down to devour on the full, chapped lips he loves so fucking much.
“Dean.” Cas breathes out against his lips, low and seductive, an octave lower than usual, and Dean knows he is close. And fuck, he’s not that far off himself.
“Cas.” He mumbles in the same way into the angel’s ear, licking his ear-shell. And Cas literally growls a long ‘gaaaaaaaaaaaah’ as he comes, his lips parted and eyes closed. And that, along with the feeling of Cas’ semen filling him, is all it takes to throw Dean over the edge, too. Cas kisses down his chest as they both come, his fingers trailing just above his ass-crack to add to the already overwhelming sensations.
Cas collapses on top of him as they both calm down from the high and their ragging endorphins, kissing Dean all over - on his neck, collarbone, shoulder, jaw and ears.
“Fuck,” Dean mumbles, panting and thoroughly fucked out. “You are a fucking God.”
Castiel’s smirk is leery and lopsided this time as he replies, “no, just an angel.”
Dean’s barely has his breathing under control when Cas pulls him out of bed by his wrist, mumbling “Come on, let’s go get some more ideas from those fans of ours,” and dragging him in front of Sammy’s laptop.
An hour later, Sam calls to announce he's dropping by to pick up his laptop. Dean informs him that he’s a little busy sucking Cas’ dick right now, so maybe later, and hangs up.