Chapter Text
Cas pulled Dean out of the strip club, but instead of heading to the Impala, he dragged Dean into an alley and slammed him against the wall, hard enough for Dean’s head to bounce against the brick.
“Oof,” Dean said. “Cas, what --?”
Castiel wrapped one hand around his mouth and shoved against Dean’s chest with the other.
“Do you enjoy making me uncomfortable, Dean?” Cas whispered. Dean’s eyes were wide and dilated, but still sparking challenge. Cas knocked his legs apart and ground his knee between them, hard enough to lift Dean’s heels slightly off the pavement so his weight was all on his crotch. "Do you like having an angel to toy with? Is that how you think of me?" His voice was low and dangerous, and God, Dean thought, he was even more beautiful like this, with dark eyes and clenched jaw.
He wrenched Cas' hand off his mouth. "Yes," he finally spat out, "and no." Cas waited, his expression unchanging. "Never a toy," he said, his voice slightly ragged. "But if making you uncomfortable makes you -- makes you like this, then fuck, yes, I enjoy it."
Cas actually snarled in his ear and Dean groaned, rubbing himself shamelessly against Cas' knee. Cas dragged his wrists over his head and held them there with one hand, and the other went to work on Dean's belt.
"We can't," Dean gasped, his hips jerking traitorously, "not here, we -- take us, take us to --"
"When will you learn," Cas whispered, "that your actions have consequences?" He let go of his wrists and dropped to his knees, yanking Dean's jeans to his thighs. Dean moaned, high in the back of his throat, and Cas dug his fingers into his hipbones. "Better learn to be quiet, Dean, because I am going to fuck you against this wall, and I’m going to try to make you scream."
Cas leaned in and swallowed Dean down all at once, and at the same time slid his hand around to start roughly fingering him open.
"Cas, man, I gotta say," Dean said through gritted teeth, "not really making a good case for not making you uncomfortable here." Cas ignored him, working his fingers and mouth, until he felt Dean begin to tense.
"Cas, I --" he gasped, and Castiel pulled off and out instantly.
"Don't you fucking dare," he growled, gripping the base of Dean's cock tightly as he stood up. He kissed Dean, hard and dirty, then flipped him around and shoved him against the wall. "You know," he said, in a low, conversational tone, "if somebody saw us, I could just disappear, and leave you here like this... all alone, pants around your knees, bent over and stretched out... would that make you uncomfortable?"
"You wouldn't," Dean said, pillowing his forehead on his arms. "You'd probably fucking let them watch."
Cas smiled slightly. "Maybe," he said, and shoved himself into Dean in one smooth motion. Dean bit back a groan, sinking his teeth into his forearm. "It would be a shame to deny anyone seeing you like this. You wouldn’t even care, would you, as long as I kept fucking you?” He pulled out slowly then slammed back in, as if in emphasis.
“No,” he choked out. “No, no, just don’t stop.”
“Even Sam and Gabriel could walk by,” Cas said, fucking upwards slowly, “and you wouldn’t even notice. They’d recognize your voice, you know. Sam would try to get away, but you know Gabriel. He likes you now, but he’d still never resist the chance to see you like this, the great Dean Winchester, bent over in an alley and begging for cock.”
“Yours,” Dean growled. “Only yours.”
“So beautiful when you’re unraveling,” Cas whispered, kissing Dean’s spine. “Like nothing matters in the world except my cock. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Dean hissed. Then -- “No. You -- and your fingers, and your mouth, but -- you. Always matter.”
Cas groaned, a little of the self-control melting off his face. He leaned in and bit at the skin of Dean’s back until he heard him cry out, muffled against his arms.
“Please, Cas,” he said, his breath catching in his throat. “Please, harder.” He reached one hand down to stroke himself but Cas grabbed it and pinned it against the concrete. With his other hand, Cas twisted his fingers in Dean’s hair and pulled his head back.
“Not your show this time, Dean,” Cas said into his ear, and Dean’s breath went even higher and faster. “You wanted to push me, didn’t you?”
“Not -- not sorry,” he gasped, and Cas knew he wasn’t going to be able to draw it out much more.
“I’m an angel of the Lord, Dean,” he whispered, and bit down hard at the base of Dean’s neck. “You should show me some respect.” He shoved his hips into Dean hard one last time and they both went tumbling over the edge, Cas keeping a hand clamped over Dean’s mouth to muffle his cries.
“Jesus,” he finally gasped, slumping against the bricks and trying not to think about the various substances he was likely pressed against.
“Mm,” Cas agreed, resting his forehead against Dean’s back. “I trust I made my point.”
“Not sure,” Dean said with an exhausted grin. “Think I might need more demonstrations.”
Cas paused, then pressed a long, soft kiss to Dean’s spine. “See you at the motel, Dean,” he whispered, and with a rustling of the air he was gone.
“Son of a fucking --” he swore, struggling to get his jeans back on. He glanced down at himself. Dirt was ground into his forearms -- and to his forehead as well, he guessed -- and spatters of white stood out against the green of his t-shirt. Bright red indentations from his teeth shone on his skin. He looked -- well, he thought with a snicker, he looked like he had just been fucked against the wall of an alley outside of a strip club.
He tried to make himself remotely presentable, then shuffled out of the dark and across the parking lot. Nobody gave him a second glance, and he supposed that, realistically, a nice round of good old-fashioned gay sex was probably not among the more noteworthy things to have happened in that alley.
He unlocked the Impala and slid inside, grimacing. Cas hadn’t actually hurt him but he was more than a little tender, and while the feeling of Cas’ come all over his ass -- and in his ass -- was admittedly, in a way, kind of fucking hot, it was in a lot more ways just really fucking gross, and he was relieved the motel was only a few minutes away.
When he got inside Cas was sitting cross-legged on the bed reading a book, completely unruffled, of course, without a hair out of place. At least, Dean thought with exasperated affection, not any more out of place than usual.
“Wipe that smirk off your face, Cas,” he announced, crossing the room to flop on the bed next to him. The angel was only blinking at him innocently, but the corners of his mouth were twitching in that way that Dean found equal parts irresistibly sexy and unbelievably irritating. “You’d think angels would be nice boyfriends,” he muttered. “Not dicks.”
“Technically, I’m not a ‘boy’,” Cas said, complete with the fucking air quotes. “I’m a multidimensional wavelength --”
“-- of celestial intent, yes,” Dean finished, rolling his eyes. “But I prefer the term ‘dick’.”
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas said solemnly. “I hope I didn’t make you… uncomfortable.”
Dean just groaned and threw a pillow at his head.