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So. Dean has a stalker.
It started with little things. The feeling of being watched while he was out. A rustle of a bush – but no one there when he turned. The sound of a tire – but the car driving by without stopping.
Then things got a little weirder. Phone calls to the garage whenever he worked alone but no one on the other end. A notebook or tool out of place when Dean was sure he hadn’t moved it.
After a few weeks things escalated. Creepy love letters in his mailbox. Red roses ordered to the garage for him. Catching a glimpse of dark fabric whenever he turned around fast enough.
A face with striking blue eyes in his bedroom window while he changed out of his ratty, oil stained work jeans.
So, yeah. Dean has a stalker.
He should be scared. Should be more careful. But the guy seems harmless – so far.
There’s also a certain thrill of knowing someone is watching him. Dean might have some wires crossed. Sometimes blue eyes take over his thoughts and go straight to his dick. Dean isn’t proud of how many times he has jerked off to his stalker, not even knowing how the guy looks.
He felt the presence of someone all day. Arriving later than usual due to some extra work on a car, he bought takeout and a case of beer, for a chill evening on the couch. He takes the few steps up his porch and immediately stops.
A package. ‘To Dean’ on the top. Every instinct in him tells Dean not to pick it up and bring it inside. But he is curious. What present could his stalker give him? He picks it up and places everything on the counter.
Takeout and beer forgotten, Dean picks up a knife and opens the package slowly. The first thing he sees is some pink tissue paper. He takes it out and immediately wishes he hadn’t.
There, nestled in the paper, is a pair of emerald green satin panties. Most likely his size.
Dean doesn’t make a secret about occasionally wearing panties. Okay, maybe he does. They are all stuffed deep inside his dresser. So how does the guy kno– He was inside his house! A cold shiver runs down Dean’s spine, followed by a spark of arousal and a great idea popping into his head.
After a thorough shower Dean lays in bed. Wearing the green panties. He kept his blinds and window open, the light dim. His dick is already straining against the satin fabric, leaving a dark, wet spot.
Dean runs his fingers up and down his chest, tweaks a nipple here and there, arches into the touch with a low moan, imagining the hands of blue eyes instead of his own.
Opening one eye he looks over to the window and can faintly see the outline of a face. The guy covered his face but his blue eyes are visible with the light from Dean’s lamp. Dean throws a wink towards the window.
Time to up his game.
Eyes closed again, Dean runs his hand down, down, down. His fingertips grazing the wet spot at the top of the panties. He palms himself through the fabric for a few minutes, savoring the feel of the silk against his warm dick.
Dean hears a faint rustle coming from the window but keeps his eyes closed. Moving his hand up, he slips it back down inside the panties, grabbing his hard dick and starts to jerk it. Up and down, up and down. He already feels closer to cumming than normally. Usually his stamina is better than this. But knowing someone is watching him starts a fire deep in his groin.
A low thud from the window stops Dean momentarily. He listens to soft footsteps coming closer to the bed. They stop a few feet away from him.
“Keep going,” a deep, dark voice murmurs.
“Fuck!” Dean whispers but does as he’s told. He keeps his pace steady, his dick getting hard and harder. But he needs something else to push him over the edge.
“Can I see you?” he asks, slowing down his strokes.
There’s a moment of silence. The soft whisper of clothing being removed.
Then a low “yes”.
Dean opens both his eyes. His vision adjusting to the dim light in the room and focusing on the person next to his bed. A figure, clad in dark pants and a dark sweater. Moving his gaze up, Dean locks eyes with the most beautiful man he has ever seen. Sun kissed skin, dark, almost black hair and matching five o'clock shadow. But most mesmerising are his eyes. The darkness of the room isn’t doing them justice, but even in the low light they are stunning. The most ethereal eyes Dean has ever seen. His breath stutters for a second.
There’s a glint in the man’s eyes. With just a tilt to his head he indicates for Dean to keep going. So he does. They keep staring at each other. Dean is so close. Seeing the man almost made him cum without even moving his hand. It goes on for a few minutes, Dean on the edge of his orgasm but something is still missing. He lets out a frustrated whine, strokes his dick a little faster, a little tighter.
His eyes must be begging the man to let Dean cum.
“So good for me, Dean,” the man whispers, taking a small step closer.
And that's it. Dean cums, hard. He screws his eyes shut, throwing his head back against the pillow and stains the satin green panties in his cum.
Dean catches his breath for a moment before opening his eyes again. The man still stands here, an expression of awe on his face.
“That was …” the man trails off.
“Yeah,” Dean replies with a huff of laughter. He takes his stained hand and wipes it messily against his sheets, takes off the soiled panties and lets them drop to the floor. The man follows the movement but his eyes don’t linger on Dean’s now soft dick. He just stands there, looking at Dean’s eyes.
Trying to break the tension, Dean gestures for the guy to come closer. Hesitant steps bring him closer, until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.
Dean puts his hands on the man’s face, turning them towards each other. Slowly, so slowly, he leans in and presses a soft kiss against those plush, pink limps. The man lets out a deep moan and deepens the kiss for a moment, before pulling away.
“Cas,” he whispers.
“Huh?”
“My name,” he clarifies.
“Cas,” Dean repeats, a small smile on his lips. “Hi Cas. It’s good to finally meet you.”
Cas gives him a fond smile and leans in for another kiss. They fall back against the pillows, making out like teenagers for half the night, exploring each other's bodies like that, until sleep succumbs them.
—
When Dean wakes up, he is alone. There is still some warmth left from where Cas was pressed against him.
With a disappointed sigh he swings his legs off the bed and stops. The panties he’s dropped next to the bed are gone. He lets his gaze swipe over the room. But no, they are gone. Instead, Dean finds a folded piece of paper with his name on his nightstand. He picks it up, unfolding it to see Cas’ name and a phone number scrawled on there.
Immediately, Dean picks up his phone and dials the number. It rings, one, two, three times, before someone picks up.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas says.
“Good morning, Cas,” Dean smiles.
—
So. Dean had a stalker.
Now, he has a very doting boyfriend.