Supernatural fic: What's In A Name? 1/3 (Dean/Cas hardR AU)
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Title: What’s In A Name? [1/3] {also at AO3}
Rating: hard R for this chapter, NC-17 all up.
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, some Bobby/Rufus and Lucifer/Sam (unrequited), Ellen and Jo.
Genre: AU, smut. no angsty romance in this one!
Warnings: language, dance floor frottage, piercing!kink, Sam as a twink, and a seriously disturbing costume for Bobby (ie bdsm inspired). It's a bit crack-y in a Queer As Folk kind of way, but that's the fun of it!
Word Count: around 3,210 this part. 12,800 all up.
Summary: It's Halloween, so everyone's out to get laid, but while Dean's always preferred anonymous sex with strangers, he thinks it might be a little difficult to find someone who can deal with his particular tastes... until a certain mystery angel comes his way ;p
A/N: This is maybe v3.2 of this fic now? I wrote this before I really found my rhythm again, so I keep coming back and trying to fix it up :s The idea originally popped into my head after coming across a bunch of prompts somewhere for Goth Club AUs - PVC, leather, piercings, tattoos, eyeliner... the works. I'd also just rewatched Romeo & Juliet, so it all fused together and became this. With a little Queer As Folk on top. It was just meant to be a cracky little thing, but as usual it got kinda outta control. And now it's a whole verse :S
Disclaimer: Supernatural ain't mine. And any similarities to Baz Luhrmann's Romeo & Juliet or Queer As Folk is... purely intentional!
Reference images for the tattoos, toys, positions etc mentioned in this fic are all indexed here at my livejournal.
~
Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
-- Romeo, Act I scene v
~
“Dean, hurry up!” Sam’s voice whines through Dean’s bedroom door.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Dean grumbles as he adjusts one of the fake metal armor pads on his shoulders. Twisting around, he makes sure the silver chain-mail shirt he’s wearing is hanging correctly and not caught in the back of his matching costume pants, then heads out to the living room to meet his brother.
Dean freezes.
Sam’s lower face and neck are smeared with fake blood, but his actual costume only seems to consist of a pair of black leather pants and a thin white button down, hanging open and exposing his bare torso - which is where Dean’s gaze has halted, in true horror.
“Dude. Is that glitter?
Sam’s chest is covered in it. It’s even in his hair, falling all over his forehead and into his eyelashes.
“‘Tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh,” Sam grins. Dean rolls his eyes.
“Okay, Sam. I get that you’re… the vampire Lestat or whoever, but really? Is this what you do to get laid?” Dean asks, eyebrow raised.
“Oh come on, Dean! It’s Halloween! Everyone is out to get laid tonight!” Sam whines.
“Can’t argue there,” Dean agrees. But he also gets the feeling he’s going to be spending the night beating a mob of creepers away from his not-so-little brother instead. Which is partially why he doesn’t usually go clubbing with Sam.
“Here you go,” Sam says, handing him a silver domino mask.
“What’s this for?” he asks, cringing at the shiny piece of plastic.
“It’s a masquerade event, Dean,” Sam replies, pulling his own glittered monstrosity over his eyes.
“Riiight,” Dean drawls. “Why are we doing this again?” he deadpans as he slips the mask on. Sam sighs at him.
“We promised Ellen and Jo we’d go. It’s for their chapter of PFLAG.”
Dean huffs out a sigh in defeat. Sam would do anything for the Harvelles. But then again, so would Dean. The mother and daughter had done a lot for the Winchester brothers over the years, so they’re practically family in his books.
“But why did they have to hold it at Queen Mab’s? I hate clubs. The only kind of ‘club’ I want to go to is The Pit,” Dean grumbles as they head to the door. Sam rolls his eyes at the mention of Dean’s favorite haunt.
“Don’t worry, Dean. It’s Halloween. I’m sure there’ll still be enough leather and chains at Queen Mab’s, even for you.”
“There better be. ‘Cause you know what I always say Sam...”
Sam heaves a put-upon sigh, having heard it a million times before.
“…Everything’s better with a little bit of metal!” Dean grins, sticking out his tongue-stud with a suggestive waggle.
Sam shoots a bitch-face over his shoulder as he heads out the door.
~
As soon as they enter Queen Mab’s, Dean’s ears are assaulted by the throbbing beat of dance music instead of the wail of guitars he’s used to, and he has to blink his eyes a few times before he adjusts to the flashing lights, streamers, balloons, and friggin’ glitter all over everything. It’s like Mardi Gras in there.
Dean huffs a chuckle, shaking his head at all the hoopla. Gripping the handle of his fake sword for courage, he strides toward the railing in front of them, scanning the dark mass of gyrating bodies on the floor below for the evening’s hostesses. Sam doesn’t do anything to help him, though, already bobbing to the music beside him and looking for all the world like he just wants to go and make merry already. Dean rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. Regardless of his size, his brother can be such a twink sometimes.
“Sam! Dean!” a voice calls, and they turn to see the Harvelles coming up the steps to meet them, dressed as the two parts of a cracked egg. Dean snorts at the sight of them.
“Well, aren’t you just my knight in shining armor?” Jo smirks, kissing Dean on the cheek.
“Hey, Jo,” he smiles, hugging her back.
“Thanks for coming, Dean. It really means a lot,” Ellen says, coming in for her own hug.
“No problem, Ellen. The place looks great. But if I see Bobby getting his ‘bear’ on I’m leaving,” he jokes. Ellen laughs.
“Omigod I love this song!” Sam suddenly exclaims. “Young hearts! Run free!” he sings along loudly, “Never be hung up, hung up like my man and meeee!” Jo sings with him as they run down the stairs to the dance floor.
Dean shares a wry smile with Ellen before heading down to the bar.
~
Dean has to admit, Ellen and Jo have put on a great event, even though it isn’t really his thing. He can see Sam’s head happily bouncing up and down above the throng of people on the dancefloor, and he’s just starting to relax into his whisky, wondering if he might find some action in the back room… when Bobby shows up, and Dean nearly chokes on his drink.
Bobby’s decked out in full gay-biker gear - matching black leather pants, jacket, and cap - but he’s also got the full BDSM chains strapped across his bare chest, just like the guy from the Village People.
And it’s not like Dean isn’t used to seeing that kind of getup at The Pit. It’s just, seeing it on the man that’s practically been a father to him is wrong on so many levels, Dean can’t even begin to process.
Maybe not everything is better with a little bit of metal.
Dean makes sure to look Bobby only in the eyes as he gives the man a gruff hug, and immediately orders another stiff drink. After a few more hard swallows, he’s just beginning to think he can relax again… when Bobby opens his mouth and says, “Well, Hello there, Officer.”
Dean doesn’t want to know. He really doesn’t. But when he hears Rufus laugh in response he knows he can’t get away without turning around, no matter how much he doesn’t want to see. But when he does, he’s greeted by another remnant from the Village People - Rufus decked out in full, tight, motorcycle policeman’s gear, complete with helmet - and Dean wants to burn his eyes out again.
“Sorry I’m late, daddy-bear,” Rufus grins. Bobby snorts at the other man, and Dean sighs at the heavens.
“I think you’re a bit over-ripe to be passing off as anyone’s cub, Captain,” Bobby smirks before leaning up to kiss his partner.
“Save it for Valentine’s Day, boys,” Dean snarks.
“Son, you can only hope to find a man as good as I’ve got someday,” Bobby grins.
“Why have one, when I can have many?” Dean smirks back. Bobby rolls his eyes. It’s an exchange they’ve repeated countless times before - Bobby constantly urging him to find someone special and settle down, and Dean espousing the joys of anonymous sex with strangers. Many strangers. With emphasis on ‘anonymous.’ He stopped asking for names years ago. Only the occasional safe-word.
It’s not that Dean is completely against the idea of settling on one person. It just isn’t easy finding ‘someone special’ with the kinds of things he’s into.
Dean sighs, leaning back against the bar. He wonders if it’s too early to make an escape and head to The Pit. Not that there aren’t options for him here. It’s just a bit difficult to think about having any kind of real fun when his friends and family are around. He starts to scan the dancefloor again for the top of Sammy’s head, but just as he does, the strobe lights kick in, and all Dean can see is the black-white flashing of bodies jumping up and down in that eerie strobe-lit slow motion…
And one man standing stock-still in the middle of the undulating mass, staring straight at him.
Shiny, black, snug PVC pants… A tight, black, thinly meshed shirt revealing every line of a leanly toned torso… The small circle of a nipple ring pushing out through the sheer material… Plush, full lips, parting slightly as a tongue darts out to wet them… Large, unmistakably blue eyes, eating Dean up through the holes of a black cloth-mask… And wings… Large, black, feathery wings attached to the man’s back, casting dark, strobe-lit shadows on the dancing forms behind.
Holy fuck.
Dean leaves his drink at the bar. Walks slowly towards the other man. And just as he stops in front of him, the strobe lights cut out, and Dean is assaulted by the full force of that hungry gaze.
The dark angel steps forward, leaning in until Dean can feel lips brushing against his ear, and then a gravel-deep voice is pouring into it, sending shivers down Dean’s spine. “I’ve been watching you all night.”
“Yeah?” Dean murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to the other man’s ear in return. “Well, I’d love to watch you for the rest of the night.”
The angel leans back to look at Dean, a slow smile curving across his lips, and then the man starts moving, swinging his hips side to side in time to the music. Grinning, Dean sways with him, matching his every movement, and the curve of the man’s lips grows more and more inviting. When Dean takes the other man by his hips, pulling him closer, the man presses himself against Dean’s body, one leg sliding through Dean’s thighs as they thrust their hips in sync.
Now, Dean’s never been much for dancing. Not that he’s bad at it or anything, it’s just not his thing. But the way the other man’s hips move together with his, smooth and sinuous, the pupils of his blue eyes blown as he levels Dean with an unwavering gaze… Well, Dean’s already hardening in his pants.
He knows the other man can feel it, pressed together as they are. But the man merely smiles at him again, slow and lazy and knowingly, before he backs off, giving himself just enough space to turn around, and push himself back onto Dean’s crotch. Hissing at the sudden pressure, Dean grabs onto the angel’s hips and pulls him in close, rubbing himself against the man’s oh-so-tight ass as they continue dancing.
Dean’s fully hard now, grinding into the angel as the feathers of the man’s wings brush and caress his arms. He groans into the back of the other man’s neck, long and heavy as he drags his lips against the angel’s skin, and the man reaches up, grabbing the back of Dean’s neck to hold him there. When the other man tilts his neck sideways in silent request for more, Dean gives it to him, and lets his lips linger across the man’s neck in between the gasping kisses he presses there, trailing up to the angel’s earlobe and sending shivers through the other man’s body with his heavy breaths.
He wants to feel more. Wants to know if the other man is just as turned on as he is. Dean takes a quick glance around at the people dancing around them, but no one is paying attention. It’s dark amidst the press of all these bodies, and everyone is too busy doing their own thing. Some of them are probably doing the exact same thing Dean is doing with his angel right now. So he goes for it.
Letting go of the other man’s hip, Dean slides his hand up the inside of the angel’s thigh. The man gasps, dropping his head back even further over Dean’s shoulder, his fingers stroking and caressing Dean’s forearm in encouragement. So Dean slides his hand up even more, slowly, until his palm is cupping the other man’s crotch.
Dean growls. The man is just as hard as Dean is, and Dean presses into it, palming it up and down in time with the slow-throbbing beat of the music. The other man’s hips shudder against Dean, and his fingers slide down Dean’s arm to cover Dean’s hand, pressing it down even harder as he rubs himself against it.
By now, Dean knows they’ve probably attracted the attention of at least some of the people dancing close by, but that just adds to the thrill. It’s like a dirty little secret - shielded from his friends and family by the press of strangers around them, any one of them watching as he makes his claim on the angel in his arms, hands - and Dean can’t get enough of it. His lips become more needy, more covetous, until he’s all but sucking on the other man’s neck. Finally, Dean just bites, teeth tugging at the man’s flesh in demand.
Gasping, the angel pulls away from him, and for a second Dean thinks he’s gone too far. But then the man whirls around, pressing himself flush against Dean’s body again, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck with a moan as their lengths press together once more. Dean grins, reaching down to palm the tight curves of the other man’s rear as the pulse of the music sets their rhythm again. Their lips nip at each other, playful and teasing, as their bodies remain locked together, grinding their erections against each other with a languid, maddening friction.
Dean’s panting hard now, his tongue practically lolling out of his mouth, and suddenly the man’s eyes go wide as he looks down at it.
Dean huffs out a laugh. He’s so used to having the tongue-stud there that he forgets it sometimes comes as a surprise to other people. But the other man seems to love the discovery, the way his eyes light up upon seeing it. When Dean teasingly sticks his tongue out a little further, the man dives for his mouth, latching on with his lips as his tongue searches Dean’s for the little piece of silver.
Eventually Dean has to break away for air, burying his face into the other man’s neck and gasping for purchase. He can feel the other man’s breaths against his ear, just as harsh, and all they can do for a moment is clutch at each other, grind at each other with their slow-moving hips.
But all too soon Dean’s lips get needy again. Reaching out with his tongue, he rubs his stud under the back of the other man’s earlobe, drawing the flesh into his mouth. The man trembles against him, angling his neck to give Dean better access, and Dean sucks the lobe deeper, caressing it with the stud on his tongue and nipping at the skin every now and then with his teeth.
The man is already groaning into his ear, rubbing himself up against Dean even more insistently, but there’s something Dean’s wanted to do since he first laid eyes on the angel. Sliding his hand under the angel’s shirt, he hitches the material up the man’s torso, until his fingertips finally find the pierced nipple there.
Dean brushes his thumb against it, and the man lets out a shaky moan, his entire body quivering in response. Then Dean pinches it, and the man’s body stiffens with a throaty gasp of surprise. Dean doesn’t give the angel a break though, rolling the nub in his fingers and tugging relentlessly on the little ring of metal, and before long the other man is practically hanging off him, totally at Dean’s mercy as he relies on Dean for support.
It’s ridiculously hot, the way the angel is panting and moaning wantonly against his ear, fucking him through their pants with Dean’s hands all over his bared torso for anyone to see. Dean finds himself so fucking close to the edge of coming, he can barely even stand anymore.
He gives the man’s earlobe one last tug in his teeth, before locking their lips together again, devouring the other man’s groans with his mouth. Letting go of the man’s hip, he slides his hand down the angel’s backside, fingers circling the man’s entrance through his pants… and then Dean presses up, hard.
The man throws his head back with a strangled cry, and Dean keeps prodding, rhythmically, with every thrust of his hips, until the man’s entire body stiffens, spasms, and shudders in climax.
It’s fucking beautiful. And all it takes is a few more rough thrusts, before Dean is coming in his pants as well, his eyes never leaving the angel’s flushed, climax-thrown face.
The man comes back to him slowly, blue eyes dark and glazed, still panting as he catches his breath. Dean kisses him through it, soft and unhurried, holding him close as their bodies still tremor with aftershocks.
He can’t believe it. This mystery man has made him come ridiculously hard, and neither one of them has even taken off their clothes yet. Hell, he hasn’t even seen all of the guy’s face. Sure, Dean’s no stranger to anonymous sex, but he wasn’t expecting this.
Screw it. Dean needs to see this guy’s face… among other things. Lifting his hands from the man’s hips, Dean slides his thumbs under the bottom of the mask-- when suddenly the other man furrows his eyebrows, frowning at something over Dean’s shoulder.
Dean turns around, confused, and through the spaces between all the dancing bodies Dean sees his brother at the bar, a furious expression on his face. In an instant Dean’s pushing through the crowd to get closer, ripping off his mask so he can see better. There’s a blond man leaning into his brother’s space, wearing a sparkly red vest, devil horns, and a drunken leer on his face.
“I said NO!” Sam yells, shoving the man hard in the chest.
Dean doesn’t get there fast enough to stop the man from cracking Sam across the jaw. But as his brother reels back, Dean jumps in and punches the other guy in the face, sending him to the floor with a bloody nose.
“Lucifer!” Dean hears from somewhere behind him. Then Dean’s mystery angel is dropping to the devil’s side, pulling off his own mask and pressing the thin strip of cloth to the bleeding man’s nose.
Dean watches in disbelief at this turn of events, stunned that his angel has some kind of connection to this guy. He doesn’t have long to process it, though, before he senses Sam come to stand by his side, and he turns to check his brother over.
The drunken man’s blow was sloppy and loose, so Sam appears relatively unscathed. His brother is tougher than he seems, and Sam probably won’t even bruise from it. But when Dean sees the bouncer coming their way, he knows they’re in trouble for the violent altercation, regardless of who provoked it.
As the bouncer escorts them off the premises, Dean’s eyes search for his mystery angel again, and he finds the other man leading the devil guy away through the dispersing crowd of onlookers. The angel glances over his shoulder at Dean as he leaves, and even though the other man’s unmasked face is filled with regret, Dean can’t help but think the man is even more gorgeous than he could’ve possibly imagined.
He finds himself wishing they could’ve had just a little more time together.
~ On to chapter 2 ...but it’s all dirty, dirty smut from here, sorry if you were hoping for plot! LOL ;p
WARNING: The next chapter contains bondage, to be followed by BDSM in the last chapter. So if that isn't your thing, just don't read those chapters - this was originally a oneshot, so each following chapter was written like a oneshot as well, with its own kind of conclusion. It's all just trashy, if not cracky smut, with very minimal plot to begin with. So it's NOT REALISTIC BDSM either. If you're picky about that kind of thing, you might want to look elsewhere as well!
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Title: What’s In A Name? [1/3] {also at AO3}
Rating: hard R for this chapter, NC-17 all up.
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, some Bobby/Rufus and Lucifer/Sam (unrequited), Ellen and Jo.
Genre: AU, smut. no angsty romance in this one!
Warnings: language, dance floor frottage, piercing!kink, Sam as a twink, and a seriously disturbing costume for Bobby (ie bdsm inspired). It's a bit crack-y in a Queer As Folk kind of way, but that's the fun of it!
Word Count: around 3,210 this part. 12,800 all up.
Summary: It's Halloween, so everyone's out to get laid, but while Dean's always preferred anonymous sex with strangers, he thinks it might be a little difficult to find someone who can deal with his particular tastes... until a certain mystery angel comes his way ;p
A/N: This is maybe v3.2 of this fic now? I wrote this before I really found my rhythm again, so I keep coming back and trying to fix it up :s The idea originally popped into my head after coming across a bunch of prompts somewhere for Goth Club AUs - PVC, leather, piercings, tattoos, eyeliner... the works. I'd also just rewatched Romeo & Juliet, so it all fused together and became this. With a little Queer As Folk on top. It was just meant to be a cracky little thing, but as usual it got kinda outta control. And now it's a whole verse :S
Disclaimer: Supernatural ain't mine. And any similarities to Baz Luhrmann's Romeo & Juliet or Queer As Folk is... purely intentional!
Reference images for the tattoos, toys, positions etc mentioned in this fic are all indexed here at my livejournal.
~
Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
-- Romeo, Act I scene v
~
“Dean, hurry up!” Sam’s voice whines through Dean’s bedroom door.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Dean grumbles as he adjusts one of the fake metal armor pads on his shoulders. Twisting around, he makes sure the silver chain-mail shirt he’s wearing is hanging correctly and not caught in the back of his matching costume pants, then heads out to the living room to meet his brother.
Dean freezes.
Sam’s lower face and neck are smeared with fake blood, but his actual costume only seems to consist of a pair of black leather pants and a thin white button down, hanging open and exposing his bare torso - which is where Dean’s gaze has halted, in true horror.
“Dude. Is that glitter?
Sam’s chest is covered in it. It’s even in his hair, falling all over his forehead and into his eyelashes.
“‘Tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh,” Sam grins. Dean rolls his eyes.
“Okay, Sam. I get that you’re… the vampire Lestat or whoever, but really? Is this what you do to get laid?” Dean asks, eyebrow raised.
“Oh come on, Dean! It’s Halloween! Everyone is out to get laid tonight!” Sam whines.
“Can’t argue there,” Dean agrees. But he also gets the feeling he’s going to be spending the night beating a mob of creepers away from his not-so-little brother instead. Which is partially why he doesn’t usually go clubbing with Sam.
“Here you go,” Sam says, handing him a silver domino mask.
“What’s this for?” he asks, cringing at the shiny piece of plastic.
“It’s a masquerade event, Dean,” Sam replies, pulling his own glittered monstrosity over his eyes.
“Riiight,” Dean drawls. “Why are we doing this again?” he deadpans as he slips the mask on. Sam sighs at him.
“We promised Ellen and Jo we’d go. It’s for their chapter of PFLAG.”
Dean huffs out a sigh in defeat. Sam would do anything for the Harvelles. But then again, so would Dean. The mother and daughter had done a lot for the Winchester brothers over the years, so they’re practically family in his books.
“But why did they have to hold it at Queen Mab’s? I hate clubs. The only kind of ‘club’ I want to go to is The Pit,” Dean grumbles as they head to the door. Sam rolls his eyes at the mention of Dean’s favorite haunt.
“Don’t worry, Dean. It’s Halloween. I’m sure there’ll still be enough leather and chains at Queen Mab’s, even for you.”
“There better be. ‘Cause you know what I always say Sam...”
Sam heaves a put-upon sigh, having heard it a million times before.
“…Everything’s better with a little bit of metal!” Dean grins, sticking out his tongue-stud with a suggestive waggle.
Sam shoots a bitch-face over his shoulder as he heads out the door.
~
As soon as they enter Queen Mab’s, Dean’s ears are assaulted by the throbbing beat of dance music instead of the wail of guitars he’s used to, and he has to blink his eyes a few times before he adjusts to the flashing lights, streamers, balloons, and friggin’ glitter all over everything. It’s like Mardi Gras in there.
Dean huffs a chuckle, shaking his head at all the hoopla. Gripping the handle of his fake sword for courage, he strides toward the railing in front of them, scanning the dark mass of gyrating bodies on the floor below for the evening’s hostesses. Sam doesn’t do anything to help him, though, already bobbing to the music beside him and looking for all the world like he just wants to go and make merry already. Dean rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. Regardless of his size, his brother can be such a twink sometimes.
“Sam! Dean!” a voice calls, and they turn to see the Harvelles coming up the steps to meet them, dressed as the two parts of a cracked egg. Dean snorts at the sight of them.
“Well, aren’t you just my knight in shining armor?” Jo smirks, kissing Dean on the cheek.
“Hey, Jo,” he smiles, hugging her back.
“Thanks for coming, Dean. It really means a lot,” Ellen says, coming in for her own hug.
“No problem, Ellen. The place looks great. But if I see Bobby getting his ‘bear’ on I’m leaving,” he jokes. Ellen laughs.
“Omigod I love this song!” Sam suddenly exclaims. “Young hearts! Run free!” he sings along loudly, “Never be hung up, hung up like my man and meeee!” Jo sings with him as they run down the stairs to the dance floor.
Dean shares a wry smile with Ellen before heading down to the bar.
~
Dean has to admit, Ellen and Jo have put on a great event, even though it isn’t really his thing. He can see Sam’s head happily bouncing up and down above the throng of people on the dancefloor, and he’s just starting to relax into his whisky, wondering if he might find some action in the back room… when Bobby shows up, and Dean nearly chokes on his drink.
Bobby’s decked out in full gay-biker gear - matching black leather pants, jacket, and cap - but he’s also got the full BDSM chains strapped across his bare chest, just like the guy from the Village People.
And it’s not like Dean isn’t used to seeing that kind of getup at The Pit. It’s just, seeing it on the man that’s practically been a father to him is wrong on so many levels, Dean can’t even begin to process.
Maybe not everything is better with a little bit of metal.
Dean makes sure to look Bobby only in the eyes as he gives the man a gruff hug, and immediately orders another stiff drink. After a few more hard swallows, he’s just beginning to think he can relax again… when Bobby opens his mouth and says, “Well, Hello there, Officer.”
Dean doesn’t want to know. He really doesn’t. But when he hears Rufus laugh in response he knows he can’t get away without turning around, no matter how much he doesn’t want to see. But when he does, he’s greeted by another remnant from the Village People - Rufus decked out in full, tight, motorcycle policeman’s gear, complete with helmet - and Dean wants to burn his eyes out again.
“Sorry I’m late, daddy-bear,” Rufus grins. Bobby snorts at the other man, and Dean sighs at the heavens.
“I think you’re a bit over-ripe to be passing off as anyone’s cub, Captain,” Bobby smirks before leaning up to kiss his partner.
“Save it for Valentine’s Day, boys,” Dean snarks.
“Son, you can only hope to find a man as good as I’ve got someday,” Bobby grins.
“Why have one, when I can have many?” Dean smirks back. Bobby rolls his eyes. It’s an exchange they’ve repeated countless times before - Bobby constantly urging him to find someone special and settle down, and Dean espousing the joys of anonymous sex with strangers. Many strangers. With emphasis on ‘anonymous.’ He stopped asking for names years ago. Only the occasional safe-word.
It’s not that Dean is completely against the idea of settling on one person. It just isn’t easy finding ‘someone special’ with the kinds of things he’s into.
Dean sighs, leaning back against the bar. He wonders if it’s too early to make an escape and head to The Pit. Not that there aren’t options for him here. It’s just a bit difficult to think about having any kind of real fun when his friends and family are around. He starts to scan the dancefloor again for the top of Sammy’s head, but just as he does, the strobe lights kick in, and all Dean can see is the black-white flashing of bodies jumping up and down in that eerie strobe-lit slow motion…
And one man standing stock-still in the middle of the undulating mass, staring straight at him.
Shiny, black, snug PVC pants… A tight, black, thinly meshed shirt revealing every line of a leanly toned torso… The small circle of a nipple ring pushing out through the sheer material… Plush, full lips, parting slightly as a tongue darts out to wet them… Large, unmistakably blue eyes, eating Dean up through the holes of a black cloth-mask… And wings… Large, black, feathery wings attached to the man’s back, casting dark, strobe-lit shadows on the dancing forms behind.
Holy fuck.
Dean leaves his drink at the bar. Walks slowly towards the other man. And just as he stops in front of him, the strobe lights cut out, and Dean is assaulted by the full force of that hungry gaze.
The dark angel steps forward, leaning in until Dean can feel lips brushing against his ear, and then a gravel-deep voice is pouring into it, sending shivers down Dean’s spine. “I’ve been watching you all night.”
“Yeah?” Dean murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to the other man’s ear in return. “Well, I’d love to watch you for the rest of the night.”
The angel leans back to look at Dean, a slow smile curving across his lips, and then the man starts moving, swinging his hips side to side in time to the music. Grinning, Dean sways with him, matching his every movement, and the curve of the man’s lips grows more and more inviting. When Dean takes the other man by his hips, pulling him closer, the man presses himself against Dean’s body, one leg sliding through Dean’s thighs as they thrust their hips in sync.
Now, Dean’s never been much for dancing. Not that he’s bad at it or anything, it’s just not his thing. But the way the other man’s hips move together with his, smooth and sinuous, the pupils of his blue eyes blown as he levels Dean with an unwavering gaze… Well, Dean’s already hardening in his pants.
He knows the other man can feel it, pressed together as they are. But the man merely smiles at him again, slow and lazy and knowingly, before he backs off, giving himself just enough space to turn around, and push himself back onto Dean’s crotch. Hissing at the sudden pressure, Dean grabs onto the angel’s hips and pulls him in close, rubbing himself against the man’s oh-so-tight ass as they continue dancing.
Dean’s fully hard now, grinding into the angel as the feathers of the man’s wings brush and caress his arms. He groans into the back of the other man’s neck, long and heavy as he drags his lips against the angel’s skin, and the man reaches up, grabbing the back of Dean’s neck to hold him there. When the other man tilts his neck sideways in silent request for more, Dean gives it to him, and lets his lips linger across the man’s neck in between the gasping kisses he presses there, trailing up to the angel’s earlobe and sending shivers through the other man’s body with his heavy breaths.
He wants to feel more. Wants to know if the other man is just as turned on as he is. Dean takes a quick glance around at the people dancing around them, but no one is paying attention. It’s dark amidst the press of all these bodies, and everyone is too busy doing their own thing. Some of them are probably doing the exact same thing Dean is doing with his angel right now. So he goes for it.
Letting go of the other man’s hip, Dean slides his hand up the inside of the angel’s thigh. The man gasps, dropping his head back even further over Dean’s shoulder, his fingers stroking and caressing Dean’s forearm in encouragement. So Dean slides his hand up even more, slowly, until his palm is cupping the other man’s crotch.
Dean growls. The man is just as hard as Dean is, and Dean presses into it, palming it up and down in time with the slow-throbbing beat of the music. The other man’s hips shudder against Dean, and his fingers slide down Dean’s arm to cover Dean’s hand, pressing it down even harder as he rubs himself against it.
By now, Dean knows they’ve probably attracted the attention of at least some of the people dancing close by, but that just adds to the thrill. It’s like a dirty little secret - shielded from his friends and family by the press of strangers around them, any one of them watching as he makes his claim on the angel in his arms, hands - and Dean can’t get enough of it. His lips become more needy, more covetous, until he’s all but sucking on the other man’s neck. Finally, Dean just bites, teeth tugging at the man’s flesh in demand.
Gasping, the angel pulls away from him, and for a second Dean thinks he’s gone too far. But then the man whirls around, pressing himself flush against Dean’s body again, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck with a moan as their lengths press together once more. Dean grins, reaching down to palm the tight curves of the other man’s rear as the pulse of the music sets their rhythm again. Their lips nip at each other, playful and teasing, as their bodies remain locked together, grinding their erections against each other with a languid, maddening friction.
Dean’s panting hard now, his tongue practically lolling out of his mouth, and suddenly the man’s eyes go wide as he looks down at it.
Dean huffs out a laugh. He’s so used to having the tongue-stud there that he forgets it sometimes comes as a surprise to other people. But the other man seems to love the discovery, the way his eyes light up upon seeing it. When Dean teasingly sticks his tongue out a little further, the man dives for his mouth, latching on with his lips as his tongue searches Dean’s for the little piece of silver.
Eventually Dean has to break away for air, burying his face into the other man’s neck and gasping for purchase. He can feel the other man’s breaths against his ear, just as harsh, and all they can do for a moment is clutch at each other, grind at each other with their slow-moving hips.
But all too soon Dean’s lips get needy again. Reaching out with his tongue, he rubs his stud under the back of the other man’s earlobe, drawing the flesh into his mouth. The man trembles against him, angling his neck to give Dean better access, and Dean sucks the lobe deeper, caressing it with the stud on his tongue and nipping at the skin every now and then with his teeth.
The man is already groaning into his ear, rubbing himself up against Dean even more insistently, but there’s something Dean’s wanted to do since he first laid eyes on the angel. Sliding his hand under the angel’s shirt, he hitches the material up the man’s torso, until his fingertips finally find the pierced nipple there.
Dean brushes his thumb against it, and the man lets out a shaky moan, his entire body quivering in response. Then Dean pinches it, and the man’s body stiffens with a throaty gasp of surprise. Dean doesn’t give the angel a break though, rolling the nub in his fingers and tugging relentlessly on the little ring of metal, and before long the other man is practically hanging off him, totally at Dean’s mercy as he relies on Dean for support.
It’s ridiculously hot, the way the angel is panting and moaning wantonly against his ear, fucking him through their pants with Dean’s hands all over his bared torso for anyone to see. Dean finds himself so fucking close to the edge of coming, he can barely even stand anymore.
He gives the man’s earlobe one last tug in his teeth, before locking their lips together again, devouring the other man’s groans with his mouth. Letting go of the man’s hip, he slides his hand down the angel’s backside, fingers circling the man’s entrance through his pants… and then Dean presses up, hard.
The man throws his head back with a strangled cry, and Dean keeps prodding, rhythmically, with every thrust of his hips, until the man’s entire body stiffens, spasms, and shudders in climax.
It’s fucking beautiful. And all it takes is a few more rough thrusts, before Dean is coming in his pants as well, his eyes never leaving the angel’s flushed, climax-thrown face.
The man comes back to him slowly, blue eyes dark and glazed, still panting as he catches his breath. Dean kisses him through it, soft and unhurried, holding him close as their bodies still tremor with aftershocks.
He can’t believe it. This mystery man has made him come ridiculously hard, and neither one of them has even taken off their clothes yet. Hell, he hasn’t even seen all of the guy’s face. Sure, Dean’s no stranger to anonymous sex, but he wasn’t expecting this.
Screw it. Dean needs to see this guy’s face… among other things. Lifting his hands from the man’s hips, Dean slides his thumbs under the bottom of the mask-- when suddenly the other man furrows his eyebrows, frowning at something over Dean’s shoulder.
Dean turns around, confused, and through the spaces between all the dancing bodies Dean sees his brother at the bar, a furious expression on his face. In an instant Dean’s pushing through the crowd to get closer, ripping off his mask so he can see better. There’s a blond man leaning into his brother’s space, wearing a sparkly red vest, devil horns, and a drunken leer on his face.
“I said NO!” Sam yells, shoving the man hard in the chest.
Dean doesn’t get there fast enough to stop the man from cracking Sam across the jaw. But as his brother reels back, Dean jumps in and punches the other guy in the face, sending him to the floor with a bloody nose.
“Lucifer!” Dean hears from somewhere behind him. Then Dean’s mystery angel is dropping to the devil’s side, pulling off his own mask and pressing the thin strip of cloth to the bleeding man’s nose.
Dean watches in disbelief at this turn of events, stunned that his angel has some kind of connection to this guy. He doesn’t have long to process it, though, before he senses Sam come to stand by his side, and he turns to check his brother over.
The drunken man’s blow was sloppy and loose, so Sam appears relatively unscathed. His brother is tougher than he seems, and Sam probably won’t even bruise from it. But when Dean sees the bouncer coming their way, he knows they’re in trouble for the violent altercation, regardless of who provoked it.
As the bouncer escorts them off the premises, Dean’s eyes search for his mystery angel again, and he finds the other man leading the devil guy away through the dispersing crowd of onlookers. The angel glances over his shoulder at Dean as he leaves, and even though the other man’s unmasked face is filled with regret, Dean can’t help but think the man is even more gorgeous than he could’ve possibly imagined.
He finds himself wishing they could’ve had just a little more time together.
~ On to chapter 2 ...but it’s all dirty, dirty smut from here, sorry if you were hoping for plot! LOL ;p
WARNING: The next chapter contains bondage, to be followed by BDSM in the last chapter. So if that isn't your thing, just don't read those chapters - this was originally a oneshot, so each following chapter was written like a oneshot as well, with its own kind of conclusion. It's all just trashy, if not cracky smut, with very minimal plot to begin with. So it's NOT REALISTIC BDSM either. If you're picky about that kind of thing, you might want to look elsewhere as well!
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