Fic: Like a Good Neighbor
Title: Like a Good Neighbor
Author: discreetmath and lizzstomania
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Explicit sex.
Word Count: 2300
Summary: Dean's tired of waiting for his new neighbor to make a move, and a bit of car trouble might be the perfect opportunity to get to know him.
A/N: Written for this prompt on the spn_kinkmeme with my awesome friend Lizz.
Disclaimer: These people do not belong to me, and this is all fiction.
Dean's seen him looking and normally inaction would irritate him, but in this case he'll make an exception.
Because his new neighbor? Stupidly hot.
Though perhaps new isn't the right word. Cas has lived next door for two months now. It's frustrating beyond belief that all he ever does is look. Dean's felt those unnaturally blue eyes on him more times than he can count. He's seen the blush that steals across clear, perfect skin. Dean knows that Cas likes what he sees, so why hasn't he made a move?
"Maybe he's straight?" Sam suggests over lunch one day, interrupting Dean’s usual rant over why Cas hasn’t just asked him out yet.
"Not possible," Dean answers around a mouthful of turkey. "I have excellent gaydar."
Sam rolls his eyes. "The fact that you use words like gaydar will never not be funny."
"Fuck you."
"I'll pass," Sam smirks. "Looks like Cas is gonna pass, too."
Dean is giving his brother the best possible death glare he can manage when the doorbell rings. Without talking, he taps the end of his nose with his finger and Sam rolls his eyes. Nose goes.
Sam heaves his giant frame off his chair and disappears. Moments later, Dean hears a low voice start rambling away about car trouble. He catches his own name a couple of times before Sam is back in the kitchen, Stupid-Hot Neighbor behind him.
And Cas looks good.
Well, Cas always looks good, but usually it's in a weird, business-casual way, with his rumpled suits and slightly-askew ties. Today he looks holy-fuck good in a slightly too-small grey v-neck and jeans that are so threadbare they look like a strong breeze could tear them apart. There's grease on his forearms and fingers and his hair is a dark, messy tangle. Sam is smirking at him and Dean realizes he's been staring. Cas shifts awkwardly from foot to foot and Sam takes pity on him.
"Cas says he's having problems with his car and he wants you to help him work it out."
Dean nods and shoves the last bit of sandwich into his mouth, not missing the way Cas' eyes are glued to his lips. He stands, stretches, and motions for Cas to lead the way. He winks at Sam as they walk out, and Sam rolls his eyes. Whatever. When Dean's fucking Cas into the mattress, they'll know who the real winner is.
The walk to Cas' house is short but excruciating. If Dean thought he appreciated those jeans before, seeing them from this angle is absolute torture. Damn, but Cas has the best ass. No, he has to focus. Cas probably won’t let Dean fuck him if Dean fucks up his car. Maybe Cas will let Dean fuck him in his car…
"So, what's the problem exactly?" he asks, trying to keep his attention on the issue at hand.
"It won't start," Cas says without turning around, leading Dean around the side of the house past the closed garage door.
Thanks man, Dean thinks. Real enlightening.
Cas opens the side door, letting Dean squeeze in past him to stand in front of his car. It's a Toyota, a few years old and all-around pretty boring. Not really Dean's thing, but he'd fix this guy's bicycle given the opportunity so he's not likely to complain anytime soon. He sees that the hood is already propped open and looks back at Cas' greasy hands with a raised eyebrow.
"You try to fix it yourself?"
Cas looks sheepish now, staring down at his own hands with a light blush staining his cheeks. Dean can't help but think it's sexy, all that pale skin turning pink.
"I, um. I checked the oil," Cas says. "It seemed okay." Dean laughs at that, not unkindly, before walking around to the driver's side. The door is open and the keys are in the ignition, so he drops into the seat and turns the key.
Nothing happens.
"Okay, usually when you don't get anything at all when you turn the key, it's a problem with your battery cables," Dean slides out of the car and walks back to the front of it, talking to Cas. "If you get a clicking noise, that usually means your battery's dead and you need a jump. But this might just be a connection issue."
Cas nods at that and Dean smiles, easy and reassuring. This is one area where he feels completely confident in his abilities, so passing on his knowledge is just the nice thing to do, right? Right. He bends down, bracing one hand against the car's frame as he examines the interior. At least, he makes a show of examining it, but he takes his time actually getting to the battery. He can feel Cas' eyes on him like a physical sensation, and he throws a quick grin over his shoulder to confirm that, yeah, the guy is blatantly checking him out.
Dean finally drags his attention back to the matter at hand, ready to check the battery connections for corrosion, and... huh. That's interesting. He turns around, holding one of the two battery cables in his hand. They've both been disconnected, and in Dean's experience, that's not something that happens accidentally.
"Looks like I've found the problem," he says easily. Cas' blue eyes go wide in some approximation of innocent confusion and Dean knows, right then, that he’s about to be lied to. And Cas going to be terrible at it.
"I can't imagine how that would have happened," Cas murmurs. "Is that normal?" He tilts his head to the side as he looks at Dean, and he's trying so hard that Dean feels kind of bad about this. But no way is he letting this guy get away with such an obvious lie. He drops the cable and takes a step forward, right into Cas' space.
"No, it looks like somebody did it on purpose, if you can believe that." Cas' eyes widen again, and fuck, the blue of them is being rapidly overtaken by the black of his pupils. This isn't surprise; this isn't an act. He knows he's been caught, and he likes it. Dean takes another step forward, and Cas is forced to move too, his back slamming into the concrete wall behind him.
"So I've been trying to figure it out," Dean says casually, shifting until his body is almost flush against Cas'. "I can't tell if you're closeted," he says, nuzzling his neck, "shy," a kiss to his jaw, "or just a fucking tease." This last comes with a sharp nip at Cas' throat. Cas moans, tilting his head back until it hits the wall. "So which is it?"
He pulls back, watching Cas watch him. He's blushing again, a deep red flush over his cheeks and throat, and Dean just has to see, he thinks as he reaches for the hem of Cas' shirt. He has to see if that pink tinge covers his whole chest. As he slips his fingers up over Cas' stomach, he realizes he hasn't gotten an answer.
"Cas," he says quietly. "You have to tell me what you want." A quick look at Cas' face shows his eyes are shut tightly, and his breath is coming in soft pants. A look at his crotch shows an obscene bulge behind the zipper of his jeans. Shy, then, Dean thinks. "I tell you what," he says, low and soft against Cas’ roughly stubbled jaw. "If I do something you don't want, tell me and I'll stop. Otherwise you don't have to say anything at all."
Cas cracks his eyes open at that, looking relieved, and he reaches a hand out hesitantly to grip Dean's shoulder. That's all the encouragement Dean needs, and he presses in close to slot his mouth against Cas'. It's better than he could have guessed, which is saying something because he's been imagining those lips for weeks now. He dips his tongue lightly between them, and Cas opens up with a groan to invite Dean in.
For all of Cas' earlier shyness, he doesn’t hesitate; he pulls Dean in and shoves their tongues together, wet and messy and hot and perfect. He pulls back slightly and bites at Dean's bottom lip, and the pain of it sends Dean's hips bucking forward. Cas licks at his lip once, almost in apology, before pulling away again. His mouth is swollen and red, and Dean can feel himself throbbing in his jeans at the sight of it.
"Your mouth," Cas breathes, taking the words right out of Dean’s. He leans in, as if to kiss Dean again, but Dean pulls back. Though it's difficult, he ignores the brief flash of disappointed confusion on Cas' face. He throws him a wink, just this side of cheesy, before sliding to his knees.
"If you liked that, then you're going to love this," he murmurs, nuzzling his face against the front of Cas' jeans. They really don't leave anything to the imagination, and the thought that Cas prepared for this, this seduction-trick-whatever it was, makes him shudder. He reaches up to undo the fly and drags the zipper down, yanking Cas' jeans and boxers to mid-thigh. His mouth waters when he sees Cas' cock, thick and hard and dripping, absolutely fucking filthy.
Dean spares a moment to think of how much he'd like to savor this, drag it out, make Cas whimper and beg, but the truth is that if he doesn't get that cock in his mouth he thinks he might die. Really. He can hear Cas above him, panting more heavily now, and he grins as he watches Cas get closer to losing control. He runs his thumbs over Cas’ hipbones, lean and sharp and just barely exposed by too-small grey cotton.
He tips his head up slightly to look at Cas and is encouraged to see those eyes trained on him, deep and blue and intense. He wants Cas’ hands on him, wants Cas to be as much a part of this as he is. He dips his eyes to Cas' right hand where it's clenched at his side, and then he looks back up meaningfully, hoping Cas will get it. He leans in, breathing hotly over Cas' skin, and feels those slim fingers slide into his hair. He can’t help but grin triumphantly before dragging his lips over the damp head of Cas' cock. A twist of his tongue, the fingers tighten, and Dean can already tell this will be it for him; he's not going to need anything else to get off. He parts his lips and slides them over the head, swallowing Cas down completely, and yes, this is perfect. Dean drops his hand to undo his own fly and presses his palm against himself with a muffled groan, involuntarily shoving forward into the pressure before pulling his dick out of his underwear.
Cas makes a broken sound above him, but he knows if he looks up again he'll lose it. He starts sucking Cas in earnest then, taking him all the way to the base before pulling back until his lips stretch around the tip. He bobs his head faster, Cas' hand just barely guiding his movements but unquestionably urging him to speed up. Dean can't stop moaning now, mouth stretched wide and full of dick and all he wants in that moment is to feel Cas come into his mouth, on his face, anything. He's humping into his own hand shamelessly now, but it’s nothing, fading into the background of Cas hot and hard in his mouth. He slides his free hand up Cas' thigh, around to dip between his cheeks, ghosting, teasing.
It only takes the slightest bit of pressure to his entrance before Cas is crying out, bucking forward and hitting the back of Dean's throat. Dean's eyes water but he fights down his gag reflex as he feels Cas shooting hot and thick into his throat. That feeling, that slight bit of oxygen loss, shoves him unexpectedly over the edge and he whimpers around Cas' pulsing cock as he comes in spurts across the concrete floor.
Cas’ hand is still on his head, holding him in place, when he crumples forward. Dean can’t really breathe, but he really doesn’t care; Cas is warm around him and he would gladly stay here, on his knees in front of Cas for the rest of his life, if said knees weren’t suddenly protesting their position on unforgiving concrete. He pulls back and stands, tugging Cas' jeans back up over his hips and trying to ignore the pain radiating from his kneecaps. Cas is on him the instant he’s standing, kissing him thoroughly, making tiny whimpering noises as he does it. Dean kisses back fiercely, loving the way Cas fits against him. Eventually, Cas pulls back, rests his head in the crook of Dean’s shoulder, and sighs, contentment radiating from every inch of him. It’s quiet for a couple moments.
“I’m sorry I lied to you.” The words are whisper-soft against his neck. Dean thinks he can feel the heat of Cas blushing against his skin. “I worked at Pep Boys for five years, but I didn’t know how to talk to you.”
Dean can’t stop the laugh that punches out of him. Cas looks up at him, smiling softly, but not shyly.
"It's all right, Cas," he chuckles. "I think I can probably forgive you just this once."
"Thank you, Dean," Cas says drily, though he's still smiling. He gestures to the door behind him. "I know the garage is nice, but I don't suppose you'd like to see the rest of the house?"
Dean takes his outstretched hand and follows him without a second thought.
Author: discreetmath and lizzstomania
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Explicit sex.
Word Count: 2300
Summary: Dean's tired of waiting for his new neighbor to make a move, and a bit of car trouble might be the perfect opportunity to get to know him.
A/N: Written for this prompt on the spn_kinkmeme with my awesome friend Lizz.
Disclaimer: These people do not belong to me, and this is all fiction.
Dean's seen him looking and normally inaction would irritate him, but in this case he'll make an exception.
Because his new neighbor? Stupidly hot.
Though perhaps new isn't the right word. Cas has lived next door for two months now. It's frustrating beyond belief that all he ever does is look. Dean's felt those unnaturally blue eyes on him more times than he can count. He's seen the blush that steals across clear, perfect skin. Dean knows that Cas likes what he sees, so why hasn't he made a move?
"Maybe he's straight?" Sam suggests over lunch one day, interrupting Dean’s usual rant over why Cas hasn’t just asked him out yet.
"Not possible," Dean answers around a mouthful of turkey. "I have excellent gaydar."
Sam rolls his eyes. "The fact that you use words like gaydar will never not be funny."
"Fuck you."
"I'll pass," Sam smirks. "Looks like Cas is gonna pass, too."
Dean is giving his brother the best possible death glare he can manage when the doorbell rings. Without talking, he taps the end of his nose with his finger and Sam rolls his eyes. Nose goes.
Sam heaves his giant frame off his chair and disappears. Moments later, Dean hears a low voice start rambling away about car trouble. He catches his own name a couple of times before Sam is back in the kitchen, Stupid-Hot Neighbor behind him.
And Cas looks good.
Well, Cas always looks good, but usually it's in a weird, business-casual way, with his rumpled suits and slightly-askew ties. Today he looks holy-fuck good in a slightly too-small grey v-neck and jeans that are so threadbare they look like a strong breeze could tear them apart. There's grease on his forearms and fingers and his hair is a dark, messy tangle. Sam is smirking at him and Dean realizes he's been staring. Cas shifts awkwardly from foot to foot and Sam takes pity on him.
"Cas says he's having problems with his car and he wants you to help him work it out."
Dean nods and shoves the last bit of sandwich into his mouth, not missing the way Cas' eyes are glued to his lips. He stands, stretches, and motions for Cas to lead the way. He winks at Sam as they walk out, and Sam rolls his eyes. Whatever. When Dean's fucking Cas into the mattress, they'll know who the real winner is.
The walk to Cas' house is short but excruciating. If Dean thought he appreciated those jeans before, seeing them from this angle is absolute torture. Damn, but Cas has the best ass. No, he has to focus. Cas probably won’t let Dean fuck him if Dean fucks up his car. Maybe Cas will let Dean fuck him in his car…
"So, what's the problem exactly?" he asks, trying to keep his attention on the issue at hand.
"It won't start," Cas says without turning around, leading Dean around the side of the house past the closed garage door.
Thanks man, Dean thinks. Real enlightening.
Cas opens the side door, letting Dean squeeze in past him to stand in front of his car. It's a Toyota, a few years old and all-around pretty boring. Not really Dean's thing, but he'd fix this guy's bicycle given the opportunity so he's not likely to complain anytime soon. He sees that the hood is already propped open and looks back at Cas' greasy hands with a raised eyebrow.
"You try to fix it yourself?"
Cas looks sheepish now, staring down at his own hands with a light blush staining his cheeks. Dean can't help but think it's sexy, all that pale skin turning pink.
"I, um. I checked the oil," Cas says. "It seemed okay." Dean laughs at that, not unkindly, before walking around to the driver's side. The door is open and the keys are in the ignition, so he drops into the seat and turns the key.
Nothing happens.
"Okay, usually when you don't get anything at all when you turn the key, it's a problem with your battery cables," Dean slides out of the car and walks back to the front of it, talking to Cas. "If you get a clicking noise, that usually means your battery's dead and you need a jump. But this might just be a connection issue."
Cas nods at that and Dean smiles, easy and reassuring. This is one area where he feels completely confident in his abilities, so passing on his knowledge is just the nice thing to do, right? Right. He bends down, bracing one hand against the car's frame as he examines the interior. At least, he makes a show of examining it, but he takes his time actually getting to the battery. He can feel Cas' eyes on him like a physical sensation, and he throws a quick grin over his shoulder to confirm that, yeah, the guy is blatantly checking him out.
Dean finally drags his attention back to the matter at hand, ready to check the battery connections for corrosion, and... huh. That's interesting. He turns around, holding one of the two battery cables in his hand. They've both been disconnected, and in Dean's experience, that's not something that happens accidentally.
"Looks like I've found the problem," he says easily. Cas' blue eyes go wide in some approximation of innocent confusion and Dean knows, right then, that he’s about to be lied to. And Cas going to be terrible at it.
"I can't imagine how that would have happened," Cas murmurs. "Is that normal?" He tilts his head to the side as he looks at Dean, and he's trying so hard that Dean feels kind of bad about this. But no way is he letting this guy get away with such an obvious lie. He drops the cable and takes a step forward, right into Cas' space.
"No, it looks like somebody did it on purpose, if you can believe that." Cas' eyes widen again, and fuck, the blue of them is being rapidly overtaken by the black of his pupils. This isn't surprise; this isn't an act. He knows he's been caught, and he likes it. Dean takes another step forward, and Cas is forced to move too, his back slamming into the concrete wall behind him.
"So I've been trying to figure it out," Dean says casually, shifting until his body is almost flush against Cas'. "I can't tell if you're closeted," he says, nuzzling his neck, "shy," a kiss to his jaw, "or just a fucking tease." This last comes with a sharp nip at Cas' throat. Cas moans, tilting his head back until it hits the wall. "So which is it?"
He pulls back, watching Cas watch him. He's blushing again, a deep red flush over his cheeks and throat, and Dean just has to see, he thinks as he reaches for the hem of Cas' shirt. He has to see if that pink tinge covers his whole chest. As he slips his fingers up over Cas' stomach, he realizes he hasn't gotten an answer.
"Cas," he says quietly. "You have to tell me what you want." A quick look at Cas' face shows his eyes are shut tightly, and his breath is coming in soft pants. A look at his crotch shows an obscene bulge behind the zipper of his jeans. Shy, then, Dean thinks. "I tell you what," he says, low and soft against Cas’ roughly stubbled jaw. "If I do something you don't want, tell me and I'll stop. Otherwise you don't have to say anything at all."
Cas cracks his eyes open at that, looking relieved, and he reaches a hand out hesitantly to grip Dean's shoulder. That's all the encouragement Dean needs, and he presses in close to slot his mouth against Cas'. It's better than he could have guessed, which is saying something because he's been imagining those lips for weeks now. He dips his tongue lightly between them, and Cas opens up with a groan to invite Dean in.
For all of Cas' earlier shyness, he doesn’t hesitate; he pulls Dean in and shoves their tongues together, wet and messy and hot and perfect. He pulls back slightly and bites at Dean's bottom lip, and the pain of it sends Dean's hips bucking forward. Cas licks at his lip once, almost in apology, before pulling away again. His mouth is swollen and red, and Dean can feel himself throbbing in his jeans at the sight of it.
"Your mouth," Cas breathes, taking the words right out of Dean’s. He leans in, as if to kiss Dean again, but Dean pulls back. Though it's difficult, he ignores the brief flash of disappointed confusion on Cas' face. He throws him a wink, just this side of cheesy, before sliding to his knees.
"If you liked that, then you're going to love this," he murmurs, nuzzling his face against the front of Cas' jeans. They really don't leave anything to the imagination, and the thought that Cas prepared for this, this seduction-trick-whatever it was, makes him shudder. He reaches up to undo the fly and drags the zipper down, yanking Cas' jeans and boxers to mid-thigh. His mouth waters when he sees Cas' cock, thick and hard and dripping, absolutely fucking filthy.
Dean spares a moment to think of how much he'd like to savor this, drag it out, make Cas whimper and beg, but the truth is that if he doesn't get that cock in his mouth he thinks he might die. Really. He can hear Cas above him, panting more heavily now, and he grins as he watches Cas get closer to losing control. He runs his thumbs over Cas’ hipbones, lean and sharp and just barely exposed by too-small grey cotton.
He tips his head up slightly to look at Cas and is encouraged to see those eyes trained on him, deep and blue and intense. He wants Cas’ hands on him, wants Cas to be as much a part of this as he is. He dips his eyes to Cas' right hand where it's clenched at his side, and then he looks back up meaningfully, hoping Cas will get it. He leans in, breathing hotly over Cas' skin, and feels those slim fingers slide into his hair. He can’t help but grin triumphantly before dragging his lips over the damp head of Cas' cock. A twist of his tongue, the fingers tighten, and Dean can already tell this will be it for him; he's not going to need anything else to get off. He parts his lips and slides them over the head, swallowing Cas down completely, and yes, this is perfect. Dean drops his hand to undo his own fly and presses his palm against himself with a muffled groan, involuntarily shoving forward into the pressure before pulling his dick out of his underwear.
Cas makes a broken sound above him, but he knows if he looks up again he'll lose it. He starts sucking Cas in earnest then, taking him all the way to the base before pulling back until his lips stretch around the tip. He bobs his head faster, Cas' hand just barely guiding his movements but unquestionably urging him to speed up. Dean can't stop moaning now, mouth stretched wide and full of dick and all he wants in that moment is to feel Cas come into his mouth, on his face, anything. He's humping into his own hand shamelessly now, but it’s nothing, fading into the background of Cas hot and hard in his mouth. He slides his free hand up Cas' thigh, around to dip between his cheeks, ghosting, teasing.
It only takes the slightest bit of pressure to his entrance before Cas is crying out, bucking forward and hitting the back of Dean's throat. Dean's eyes water but he fights down his gag reflex as he feels Cas shooting hot and thick into his throat. That feeling, that slight bit of oxygen loss, shoves him unexpectedly over the edge and he whimpers around Cas' pulsing cock as he comes in spurts across the concrete floor.
Cas’ hand is still on his head, holding him in place, when he crumples forward. Dean can’t really breathe, but he really doesn’t care; Cas is warm around him and he would gladly stay here, on his knees in front of Cas for the rest of his life, if said knees weren’t suddenly protesting their position on unforgiving concrete. He pulls back and stands, tugging Cas' jeans back up over his hips and trying to ignore the pain radiating from his kneecaps. Cas is on him the instant he’s standing, kissing him thoroughly, making tiny whimpering noises as he does it. Dean kisses back fiercely, loving the way Cas fits against him. Eventually, Cas pulls back, rests his head in the crook of Dean’s shoulder, and sighs, contentment radiating from every inch of him. It’s quiet for a couple moments.
“I’m sorry I lied to you.” The words are whisper-soft against his neck. Dean thinks he can feel the heat of Cas blushing against his skin. “I worked at Pep Boys for five years, but I didn’t know how to talk to you.”
Dean can’t stop the laugh that punches out of him. Cas looks up at him, smiling softly, but not shyly.
"It's all right, Cas," he chuckles. "I think I can probably forgive you just this once."
"Thank you, Dean," Cas says drily, though he's still smiling. He gestures to the door behind him. "I know the garage is nice, but I don't suppose you'd like to see the rest of the house?"
Dean takes his outstretched hand and follows him without a second thought.