Chapter Text
Dean drove for weeks at a time, stopping only to refuel and restock his supplies. It was the life he chose when he became a trucker. It was the ideal career path for him: a lone wolf seeking freedom, never knowing a place to call home.
His black semi, this time hauling a load of freshly cut logs, crossed the border from Minnesota into North Dakota. The road, illuminated only by moonlight, stretched far ahead. Dean’s favorite time to drive was the few hours before sunrise, when he could truly be alone.
~~~
Dean’s radio blasted as he tried to keep his eyes open. How long had he been driving? He thinks he crossed 3 or so state borders. Realizing he wasn’t going to reach his destination in Washington without driving himself off the road, Dean pulled into a truck stop and dozed off.
~~~
Dean was loyal to his bad habits. Every time he had a break from trucking, he would blackout at the nearest bar. It didn’t matter if he made a fool of himself, because chances were he would never go to the same bar twice.
Tonight was one of those nights. He had awoken to the sunset after too few hours of sleep, and reached the drop-off with determination after just a few hours. Knowing he had a three-day break after, Dean had made sure to make note of all of the bars he had passed on the way. One joint in particular caught his eye, a strip club was a rare sight considering how remote the area was.
Dean dropped off the lumber and went to see the car the trucking agency reserved for him. To Dean’s delight, it was a sleek ‘67 Chevy Impala, which had seen better days but would serve nicely as Dean’s accommodations for the weekend.
He raced towards the strip club, testing the limits of his new vehicle.
~~~
Castiel was clocking into his graveyard shift as a Wall Mart security guard. At least, that’s what he tells everyone he meets. They don’t need to know that he actually works as a midnight ballerina at Lucifer’s Cage, the only strip club in a 70-mile radius.
Cas wasn’t ashamed of his career choice, he was just a very private person. Truthfully, Cas was obsessed with his job. Every waking moment he wanted to be in that club. He loved seeing every drop of sweat land on the stage, the lust in his client’s eyes, and even reveling in the pure exhaustion after a long night. Most of all, he loved toying with his clients. Castiel sought control, and when he was with his clients, he had complete control over them. Even when he was submitting, he knew exactly how to give them what they wanted. Humans were predictable, after all.
Castiel slid on his black lace thong and pantyhose, buttoned up his trenchcoat, tied his tie, and finally laced up his pleasers. One of his regulars was coming in tonight and promised an extra $200 for Cas to play into his “office worker” fantasy. Cas didn’t care about the money, but he was excited to see how his regulars reacted to the new outfit. He actually donates most of his profits to PETA, hoping to support the fight against animal testing.
After checking himself out in the mirror for a reasonable amount of time, Cas finally strutted into the club, greeting Sam, the bartender, and scanning the area for new faces. Most of his regular patrons were there, and he took the time to greet and chat with each of them. Afterwards, Cas made his way up to the stage for his first dance of the night. He instructed the DJ, Gabriel, to play his signature song “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails.
Holding eye contact with his clients, Cas began his routine, ascending the pole and inverting with ease. Cas was hanging upside down in a move called crucifix, his trench coat hanging off of him revealing just the right amount of skin. Although this was a familiar routine to many, the audience was captivated; Cas’s presence was completely overpowering. As Cas switched to an outside leg hang, his eyes locked onto a new presence.
The man sitting at the bar was strikingly handsome, and although he appeared young compared to the other patrons he had an air of experience and charisma. Cas was immediately intrigued. In an attempt to understand the man’s likings and preferences, Cas kept an eye on him throughout the dance. He peered deep into the stranger’s eyes from across the room for any sort of emotion. However, even when Cas ditched his trench coat the man had little to no reaction. Cas couldn’t help but feel a little offended. Had he lost touch with the art of seduction after spending too much time with the regulars? It wasn’t common to see new faces in the club, so it was entirely possible.
Cas decided to ramp up his performance in the best way he knew how to try to get a reaction from the man. He slowly climbed all the way to the top of the pole and switched to a sitting position. Carefully timed with the climax of the song, Cas suddenly dropped all the way down the pole, catching himself within inches of the ground. Holding eye contact with the stranger, Cas then dismounted the pole by flipping and landing in the splits.
~~~
Dean Winchester was rock hard. Years of practice granted him a solid poker face, but he was starting to crack. This was the best show he’d gotten in years.
He was sure it was just because he was a fresh face, but the special treatment the guy was giving him was having a major effect. He was sure he remained stone faced the whole performance, except he might have smiled a little at the end, turning it into a smirk to at least try to be charismatic. Dean took a swig from his whiskey and scanned the room. A few old guys sat at tables, the DJ was jamming, and the stripper was walking directly towards him holding an intense gaze.
Wait, what was that last one?
“Hi handsome, what’s your name?”
Dean feels his charismatic front slip out of pure shock. “Uh– Hi, sorry. It’s Dean. Nice to meet you.”
“I agree, very nice. You can call me Castiel, by the way. So, what brings you to this part of town?”, the stripper asks with genuine curiosity.
Dean regains his composure, wetting his lips; “I’m on a road trip. National tour of all the best clubs.”
“So, which one would you say is your favorite so far?”, Castiel asks.
“Might be this one by the end of the night, but that’s up to you sweetheart”, Dean flirts.
“That is definitely within my capabilities. Would you like to go somewhere quieter, and we can sort that out?”
Dean’s cheeks are red, and he doesn’t know if it’s from the alcohol or the towering, intensely seductive being in front of him. He isn’t usually this easy.
“Lead the way, sweetheart”, Dean says with a smirk.
~~~
Castiel immediately has his hands on Dean, backing him up against the wall while tracing down his jaw, collarbone, and finally resting on his strong shoulders. Even with the 7-inch heels on, Castiel was only a few inches taller than Dean, tilting his chin up towards Cas. Castiel is gazing more softly into Dean’s eyes now, searching for subtle signs of enjoyment.
“How much?”, Dean asks. Trucking is a moderate source of income, but it’s not like Dean has a mortgage or anything so he’s more than ready to blow it all on Cas.
“$150, but for you, $100.” Cas lowers his hands down Dean’s sides, settling around his waist.
“Gimme three of ‘em.” Dean slides three hundred dollar bills into Castiel’s palm, adjusting the dancer’s fingers to close around the money.
“I like your style”, Cas banters, guiding Dean to a large, plush sofa.
Dean is like putty in Cas’s hands, but Cas can still tell that he’s fronting, trying to seem macho and charismatic. Cas needs to break down Dean’s walls, a nearly impossible task.
Cas faces towards a seated Dean, slowly grinding back and forth with his hands still resting on Dean’s shoulders. He moves one hand to the back of Dean’s neck as he speaks; “I know why you’re here.”
Dean doesn’t respond, but for an instant, something dark and unexpected clouds his eyes.
“You’re lonely.” Castiel is making an educated guess, but judging by Dean’s reaction, he can’t be far off.
“Is this a lap dance or a therapy session?” Dean jokes, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
Castiel squeezes the back of Dean’s neck, forcing him to make eye contact. “I can be whoever you want me to be, but I can tell this isn’t your first rodeo”, Cas breaks the intensity with a smile, “You’re a regular, but not here.”
“Right now, I want you to be my bitch.” Dean growls with a certain defensiveness, ignoring Cas’s second statement completely.
Cas realizes that Dean is done answering questions for the night, and that breaking down his walls will be a multi-day endeavor. He decides to focus pleasuring Dean, moving the hand on Dean’s shoulder to feel his chest through his thin t-shirt. Dean lets out a stifled groan when the stripper’s fingers brush over his nipple. Cas makes a mental note.
Cas continues grinding on Dean, sliding his right hand just under the hem of Dean’s shirt, checking Dean’s eyes for confirmation. He looks more relaxed now, but traces of smugness are still present on his features. He is very obviously pleased when Castiel’s hand travels further up, feeling his abdomen contract below layers of skin and fat. Cas isn’t usually partial to any body type, but Dean feels perfect under his hands.
Cas is very much aware of Dean’s arousal, even through the thick layer of denim. He moves Dean’s hands, which have been glued to the sofa in gentlemanly fashion to his hips, letting Dean guide his movements.
Castiel notices Dean’s eyes following his hands as he loosens his tie. He slips it over his own head and onto Dean’s, grinning as he tightens it around his neck. Keeping hold on the end of the tie, Cas leans forward to whisper into Dean’s ear.
“Such a good boy.”
Dean loses it, his grip tightening dangerously on Cas’s hips as he holds him down. He grunts, and Cas can feel his abdomen clench and unclench as he releases into his own jeans.
Dean looks embarrassed for a split second, then immediately regains his composure, but not his dignity. He moves to get up but Cas anchors himself above, sitting on Dean with his full weight and placing his hands on the back of the couch. They both freeze for a moment, in shock at their own actions.
Cas moves first, leaning in to peck Dean on the lips. He needs Dean to know that it's okay, that he doesn't have to feel ashamed. The kiss lingers, then they pause again, their rapid heartbeats almost audible above the music.
Then, just as quickly, they both get up from the couch.
“I hope to see you again soon”, Cas states as Dean is already halfway out the door.
“I’ll bet you do, sweetheart”, Dean replies with forced confidence.
Castiel checks the clock as the door closes behind him. Dean still had two hours left in the private room. Cas will make it up to him if Dean ever comes back, which seems unlikely after the incident. Cas has made clients finish many a time, but never one as prideful as Dean, who wouldn’t let himself enjoy the sensation for more than a moment. If Dean does return, Cas is going to have his work cut out for him, but he is determined to know the real Dean Winchester.
On the other hand, Dean has had many a lap dance, but he’s never finished during one before. The larger issue, however, is that Dean hasn’t been able to finish at all lately. Thinking back, he realizes that that was the first time he was able to cum in months, and on top of that he was completely untouched. Not to mention the sentence that caused it. And the fact that it was premature. Unbelievable. Either this Castiel kid has a magic touch or somebody slipped something in his drink.