Chapter Text
The whiskey burns on the way down. It’s not a surprise, it always burns, but Dean still grimaces. The alcohol warms him from the inside out when it hits his stomach-- exactly what he needed. He sits his glass back down on the wooden bar and motions to the bartender, silently asking for another. Immediately, there is more of the dark amber liquid being poured in his glass and immediately, he drinks half the glass.
“You doing okay, man?” the bartender asks on the second refill. Dean nods gruffly and looks down at his clasped hands resting in front of him. If he’s being honest, no, he’s not okay. But he’s not going to bitch about his problems to some random bartender like a fucking cliche.
He wiggles his glass once more, and with a resigned sigh, the bartender fills it again.
“Well, alright, but you may want to slow down,” he says before walking away to fill another patron’s glass. Dean looks down at his half-full glass with contempt.
He should slow down. But when he came in here tonight, he had one goal; get shitfaced and maybe find someone to hookup with.
Dean glances around the bar and realizes that hooking up with ‘someone’ isn’t really looking good, considering that there are only three people alone in the bar-- two old guys and a woman crying into her beer. Not exactly great choices for a meaningless one-night stand.
So, that leaves getting shitfaced. Which he calculates is only one or two more whiskeys away, maybe with a few beers thrown in. As long as the bartender continues to serve him, he can reach his goal and be pleasantly drunk the rest of the night. He doesn’t need to remember that he spent all day alone.
It’s not like he chose to be alone, anyways. But there weren’t exactly people lining up at his door to share a stale piece of pie for dinner, let alone ask him to their house. The one person who might’ve invited him to their house isn’t speaking to him, after all, so he really had no other option.
But God, he misses Sam.
He misses his brother so much it hurts. He would give anything to erase that night, to take back everything that he said. He hadn’t meant any of it, it had just been said in the heat of the moment. Yet Sam-- Sam thought it was all true. That every single word was exactly what Dean thought.
It’s because of the pigheaded things that Dean said that he hasn’t seen his brother in nearly a year. And every single day that passes without seeing Sam feels like a punch in the stomach. Why did Dean have to say those things? Why did he feel the need to hurt his brother so much that he would be cut out of Sam’s life forever?
Hell, Dean doesn’t even have an answer. If he did, he wouldn’t have said the stupid ass things he did. He would’ve hugged his brother tight and told him that he loved him, not call him a dick and other awful things.
“Can I get another?” Dean says, his words slurring slightly. The bartender, who Dean has learned is named Travis, looks at him for a moment before filling his glass, again.
“Okay, but this is your last one of these. You may wanna switch over to beer,” Travis says, not unkindly. Dean nods and puts the glass up to his lips, savoring the once again bitter taste. Travis gives him one last look before walking off towards one of the older men sitting at the end of the bar.
Dean sighs once he’s gone and rests his head on his arms. He already knows he’s going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning.
He feels someone sit down next to him, their arm brushing his. He sits up, curious as to why the fuck someone would sit right next to him when there are plenty of bar stools open. He turns to the person and opens his mouth to say something, but closes it immediately when he meets a pair of bright blue eyes meet his.
The man sitting next to him is hot.
His dark hair sticks out messily, like he had a crazy night of sex and no time to comb it down this morning. All Dean wants to do is slide his fingers through it and tug on it. And his lips-- dear god, his lips. They are just begging for Dean to kiss them and bite them until he and the man are out of breath. But none of that compares to the man’s eyes.
They are like a cloudless, winter day’s sky; bright and crisp. And looking straight at Dean with confusion.
“Can I help you?” the man asks.
And yep, that voice sends blood straight to Dean’s dick.
“Uh, no. Sorry man, I just-- uh,” Dean stutters, his downstairs brain making it very difficult to get a sentence out that’s not ‘please fuck me’. “Hi, I’m Dean,” he blurts, holding out his hand to the stranger. The man furrows his brows and tilts his head, looking at Dean’s hand with confusion.
He takes it after a long, awkward moment, but replies, “Castiel Novak.”
“So, Cas, what’s a guy like you doing at a bar on Thanksgiving?” Dean asks, trying to regain some of his charm. He downs the rest of his whiskey and flags down Travis. “Can I get a beer?”
“Sure thing, man. You want anything, chief?” Travis asks Castiel, pulling out a beer and putting it on the table in front of Dean.
“I’ll have a beer too,” Castiel says. Travis nods and places another beer in front of Castiel, who immediately takes a drink. Once Travis walks away, Castiel turns to Dean and says, “I could ask you the same thing.”
Dean smirks and takes a swig of his beer. He looks at Castiel with a raised eyebrow and shrugs.
“Alright, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours,” Dean offers. Castiel ponders this for a moment, his eyebrows still furrowed, before he nods. Grinning, Dean says, “I had nowhere else to go.”
Castiel looks at him, waiting for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, Castiel shakes his head.
“That’s hardly the whole story,” he says, his voice actually holding a note of disappointment. “Why didn’t you have anywhere else to go? Don’t you have family?”
Dean smiles softly and turns his whole body to face Castiel, their knees brushing, sending electricity up Dean’s leg.
“Someone is nosy,” he says cockily. Castiel looks down and mutters an apology as a blush rises on his cheeks, which Dean thinks suits him. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. And yea, I have a family, but they-- uh, didn’t really want me around this Thanksgiving.” Dean says, his mood quickly turning sour once again. He looks back up at Castiel under his eyelashes and meets concerned eyes.
The two sit in an uncomfortable silence for a while, both taking periodic sips of their drinks, until Castiel breaks the silence.
“My family didn’t really want me around either,” he admits. Dean turns to face him again, a curious glint in his eyes. He makes a ‘go on’ motion, so Castiel sighs and explains, “they don’t exactly agree with all of my lifestyle choices.”
Dean glances at him with another curious glance before taking a swig of his beer, holding it in his mouth before swallowing. He’s starting to really feel the buzz of alcohol running through his bloodstream.
“Yea, I get that,” he says, hinting at his own despondency. Castiel looks down at his beer bottle and runs his thumb along the rim, his mouth opening as if he wants to say something, but closing immediately. Dean takes a moment to admire the man’s hands, appreciating the length of his fingers and the gracefulness in their movements.
Okay, he needs to get a grip. He’s getting turned on by the guy’s hands .
“So, uh-- what do you do, Cas?” Dean asks, trying to lighten the mood. He hadn’t wanted to bring it down in the first place. The whole point for coming to the bar tonight was to forget why he was alone, not drag it all up in the first place. But, for some reason, telling Castiel something so personal seemed… natural. Which is a weird feeling for Dean, considering the only person he’s ever talked about personal matters with is Sam and that obviously hasn’t happened in a while.
“I work at a hospital,” Castiel says after a long silence. Dean nods, opening his mouth to ask what he does at the hospital, but Castiel asks him a question before he can. “What do you do?”
“Well, I have the glamorous life of being a mechanic,” he answers dryly, his voice holding a sharp edge. Castiel shoots him a sympathetic look, though Dean isn’t sure why. It’s not like the guy knows him at all. Or knows anything about his situation. Yet, for some strange reason, the fact that Castiel cares warms him.
“Do you enjoy your job?” Castiel asks, his voice calculated and precise. Dean shrugs and makes a noncommittal sound, unsure of what to say. He’s not even sure he knows the answer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Nah, it’s fine man. And I mean, I guess I like it. Pays the bills,” Dean says, chuckling darkly. Castiel nods in understanding and joins him in his laughing.
“Yes, I can relate to that,” he agrees. “You don’t have to love it if it pays the bills. But if you were to do something you loved, what would it be?”
Dean smiles, really smiles for the first time in-- well he doesn’t know how long. And it’s not even because of what Castiel said. But the fact that someone actually cares enough to ask him about his dreams. Nobody has ever actually asked him that. Not even Sam.
“Anything?” Dean asks. Castiel nods, smiling back at Dean. It makes his eyes squint and brighten, something Dean immediately decides suits him. “Well, in that case, I guess I would be a teacher. I really like history, so maybe I could teach that. Or I’d be a rock star, or travel with a band, at least. I could always be a lackey or something. That would be cool.”
Dean cuts himself off, blushing, as he realizes that he was babbling. He looks down at the bar, finding a very interesting water ring and begins tracing it with his pointer finger. He thinks he just made a fool of himself, but when he looks over at Castiel, he’s looking at Dean like he is one of the most interesting people in the world.
Just another way, Dean realizes, that Castiel is different from other people.
“Can you play an instrument?” Castiel asks, his eyes lighting up. Dean looks at him with in slight awe, wondering why the hell a stranger cares enough to continue asking questions.
“Um, kinda? I know how to play the guitar, I guess,” Dean says, half-shrugging. Castiel nods, the light in his eyes still there. “What about you? Do you play anything?”
This seems to be a good question to ask, because a bright smile breaks out across Castiel’s face, though a pink flush brushes across his cheeks. And, strangely, Dean finds the smile contagious as one of his own pulls at the corners of his mouth.
“I do,” he answers, his voice soft, though it contains an obvious excitement. Castiel glances up at Dean from under his eyelashes and Dean can feel his pants get tighter. He raises an eyebrow, silently asking Castiel to continue, and tries to adjust himself inconspicuously. “Erm, I can play the piano. I’m not very good,” he adds quickly, as if he has to reassure Dean.
“Yea, I’m sure that’s not true,” Dean hears himself say. What is the matter with him? This Castiel guy makes him say the strangest things. Instantly Dean can feel his face get hot, but Castiel doesn’t seem to notice.
Dean decides to blame the alcohol.
Not that he’s embarrassed or concerned about his attraction to Castiel. Dean is not ashamed of his bisexuality-- in fact, he tends to be open about. Hell, he’s so far out of the closet, he doesn’t even remember where it was in the house. But, the fact that his dick has regressed to fifteen-year-old-seeing-a-girl’s-bra-for-the-first-time status? Yea, that’s embarrassing.
“Well, that’s very kind of you to say,” Castiel says quietly, looking down at his hands. “Can I buy you a drink, Dean?” he asks, suddenly looking up with intense eyes. Dean swallows thickly and nods, not trusting his voice to sound normal.
Travis walks by at that moment and Castiel flags him down.
“Can I get two whiskeys?” he asks, glancing at Dean as if asking ‘is that okay?’. Dean nods slowly and Travis smiles knowingly.
“Sure thing. These both on you?” Travis asks, glancing between Castiel and Dean. Castiel nods and Travis smiles, grabbing two glasses and pouring whiskey in them. He slides one to Dean and one to Castiel, nodding at them before walking away.
Dean grabs his glass a raises it, holding it towards Castiel, who grabs his. They clink their drinks together and Dean smiles.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Castiel,” he says.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Dean.”
The two lift the glasses to their lips and swallow some of the drink. Dean sits his glass down half full, and is shocked, and admittedly turned on, when he sees Castiel downing the whole drink.
Dean finds himself mesmerized by the way Castiel’s throat ripples when he swallows and is shocked at the strong need to place a kiss on the other man’s neck. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the thought.
Castiel meets his eye and places the glass back on the bar with a clank. His face scrunches up in a disgusted expression and he looks like he’s fighting the urge to gag. Dean grins and debates making a sarcastic comment, but refrains himself.
And as Castiel’s leg brushes his again, sending another bolt of lightning through him, he hears himself ask, “Do you wanna get out of here?”
Castiel looks over at him with wide eyes, his hand paused halfway from resting on the bar. Dean looks down, preparing himself to be shot down, when Castiel’s hand lands on his thigh instead of the bar. Dean looks up, startled and finds Castiel’s eyes with blown pupils.
Without warning, Castiel surges forward, his hands cupping Dean’s jaw. He stands between Dean’s legs and leans down to look into Dean’s eyes, hesitating a moment before he presses their lips together. Dean gasps, and Castiel takes advantage, sliding his tongue into Dean’s mouth.
Their tongues slide together deliciously, pulling a moan out of Dean, which is when Castiel pulls back to look at Dean once more. There are a few people in the bar who tell them to get a room, but both ignore them.
“Yes,” he answers simply, his voice dropping at least one octave, which goes straight to Dean’s dick, making him very appreciative of his choice to wear jeans. Dean nearly chokes on his tongue when Castiel grabs his hand and pulls him out of his chair.
Dean sways immediately and realizes he is way drunker than he thought he was. But, when Castiel’s arm wraps around his waist to catch him, he doesn’t mind. He especially doesn’t mind when said arm stays there, supporting him, but not in an obvious ‘look who’s drunk’ way.
They make their way out of the bar, which is much more crowded than when Dean had entered, bumping against tables as they do. Dean wraps an arm around Castiel when he stumbles around a chair, and they end up leaning against each other in a half hug. Neither thinks of letting go of the other, even when they bump into people and get dirty looks.
Really, the act is too intimate for two strangers, but in his drunken haze, Dean doesn’t even think about that. All he can think about is the heat radiating off of Castiel and how good it feels to have someone’s arm around him.
Dean may be a little touch starved. Just a bit.
They finally exit the building, the heavy doors slamming behind them. Cold air envelopes them, making Dean shiver and subconsciously lean into Castiel’s heat. True to New York City standard, there is not a shortage of people on the sidewalk.
Castiel leans down and whispers in Dean’s ear, “would you like to go to my house or yours?”
Dean looks up at him with wide eyes. The question, of course, was expected, but hearing Castiel actually ask surprises Dean.
“Yours?” he answers, looking down into Castiel’s eyes and realizing for the first time that he is a few inches taller than the other man. For some reason the fact sends a pulse of arousal through Dean, which he again blames on the alcohol. Castiel nods and leads him to the curb, where he hails a taxi by raising his hand. Dean looks at him in awe; it usually takes him three times to get a taxi to stop for him.
Castiel pulls the door of the taxi open and climbs inside, dragging Dean in behind him. Dean rests against Castiel’s side, as if neither can bear to not touch the other for one second.
“Where to?” the driver asks in a rich Brooklyn accent, looking at Castiel in the rearview mirror.
“170 Amsterdam Avenue in Manhattan,” Castiel says, his voice still deep with arousal. The driver nods and pulls away from the curb as Castiel’s hand runs up Dean’s leg. They are turned slightly towards each other so they can hold eye contact.
Castiel leans down to cover Dean’s mouth with his own, sliding his tongue into Dean’s mouth once more. Dean decides he tastes like a mix of alcohol and rainwater, an exhilarating combination. Dean runs a hand down Castiel’s back at the same time he gently bites Castiel’s bottom lip. He grins when he hears Castiel moan, both of them oblivious to the fact that there is someone else in the car.
That is, until the driver clears his throat, trying to get them to stop.
Castiel pulls back as if he’s been stung and looks down at his lap sheepishly. Dean rolls his eyes, annoyed.
“Can we help you?” he asks the driver in the rudest tone he can muster. The driver looks back at him in the rearview mirror with wide eyes. Dean lifts one eyebrow, challenging the guy to say something. He doesn’t and Dean sighs deeply, turning back to face Castiel. “Where were we?”
Castiel smirks, but a blush rises high on his cheeks. “We shouldn’t,” he says, his voice low and quiet. Dean places a hand on Castiel’s thigh and slides closer. Castiel slides a hair's width away, placing a hand on Dean’s chest. “We really should wait.”
Dean glances down at the hand on his chest and his mouth parts as he looks down at the Castiel’s narrow wrist and slim, graceful fingers. He has a strong urge to pulls Castiel’s hand up and suck on the slim digits, but before he has the chance, Castiel’s hands grips his shirt and pulls him in close.
Castiel puts his mouth right next to Dean’s ear, close enough that Dean can feel his breath on his skin, and whispers, “if you’re patient, I’ll make it up to you when we get to my apartment.”
Dean’s breath hitches and he feels his dick twitch in his pants. Damn, how does this guy talk so dirty so easily? “You promise?” he asks in a hoarse voice that cracks at the end of the sentence. He glances at Castiel to see if this went unnoticed, and by the look on his face, it didn’t.
“Absolutely,” Castiel says, leaning in again to place a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips that has Dean leaning in for more when he pulls away. Castiel places one of his slim fingers, which Dean had been admiring earlier, on Dean’s lips, holding him in place. Giving Castiel a mischievous smirk, he pulls the finger into his mouth and sucks on it, running his tongue along the time of it.
Another act that neither man finds too intimate for two strangers.
Castiel gasps, his eyes widening as he stares at where his finger is in Dean’s mouth. His mouth falls open and Dean can see his throat working around words, which he ends up whispering. “You better knock that off, or I will not reward you when we get there.”
Dean pulls his mouth off of Castiel’s finger with an obscene pop that attracts the attention of their driver. Neither pay any attention to him though and just stare at each other, arousal thrumming through both of their bodies.
By the time the cab pulls up on the side of the road, the driver announcing that they are there, Dean is full hard in his pants just from anticipation. And judging from how often he adjusts in his seat, Castiel is in the same boat. A fact that only proves to interest Dean’s dick even more.
Castiel pulls two twenties out of his wallet, despite the driver saying he only owes thirty dollars, and tells the man to keep the change. Then, Dean is being pulled out of the cab by his sleeve and dragged across the street. Castiel doesn’t look back at him until they are inside of the apartment building, which Dean notes, is huge and expensive looking.
Dean has no time to admire the inside of the lobby, because before he gets the chance, Castiel is pulling him into the elevators and punching a button on the wall before pushing Dean up against the wall.
He catches Dean’s lips in a hard kiss and Dean can feel Castiel’s arousal pressing up against his leg. Well, he’s got to do something with that information.
Dean rolls his hips up against Castiel’s and grins at the deep moan that rumbles through Castiel’s chest. Before they can get any farther, the elevator bell dings. Castiel draws himself away, though it seems to take a lot of effort, and turns to face the door.
The doors slide open and a man with two kids walks in. They stand in front of where Dean and Castiel are standing against the back wall, both desperately trying to cover their erections with their hands clasped in front of their bodies.
The elevator rises at an extremely low pace that has Dean ready to scream. But finally, after what seems like forever, the doors slide open and Castiel moves forward, grabbing Dean’s sleeve and pulling him with him. The emerge into a hallway that ends with only one door. They hear the doors close again and Dean struggles not to jump on Castiel immediately.
Castiel pulls a set of keys out of his pocket and, with shaking hands, pulls one out of the bunch. He puts the key up to the lock and tries to slide it in, but his hands are shaking too badly. The key slides around the lock and Castiel makes a frustrated sound and looks one second from throwing the keys across the hallway and breaking the door down.
Dean huffs a laugh and gently pulls the keys from Castiel’s hand. He can feel the other man’s eyes on him as he easily slides the key in the lock and opens the door. The instant the door is open, Castiel darts in and grabs the front of Dean’s shirt, hauling him in the apartment and slamming the door behind him.
Then Dean’s is being pushed against the door, hard. And suddenly Castiel’s hands are all over his body, pulling his leather jacket down his arms where it falls onto the floor. Dean drops the keys next to it in favor of sliding his fingers through Castiel’s dark hair, tangling them and tugging slightly, earning a moan.
Their lips connect again and their tongues slide together without hesitation. Somebody groans, but neither are sure who. Dean’s fingers work at unbuttoning Castiel’s shirt and he curses when he can’t even get the top one undone. He breaks apart from the kiss to look Castiel in the eye before gripping the shirt and ripping it off of him. The sound of buttons hitting the hardwood floor surround them, accompanied by Castiel and Dean’s deep breaths.
“Oh God,” Castiel groans as he surges forward again, slamming his lips against Dean’s. Dean slides his hands up and down the newly exposed skin, loving the way that Castiel arches into the touch. He can feel Castiel working to get his t-shirt up and he pulls himself away long enough to rip it up off of his head.
Castiel places two soft hands on his chest and looks at Dean like he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Dean hooks his fingers through Castiel’s belt loops and pulls him flush against him, touching everywhere they can. He revels in the feeling of skin on skin, euphoria filling his thoughts. He takes Castiel’s mouth again and moans at his taste, wondering fleetingly if the sweetness on his tongue is from something Castiel ate, or just purely Castiel.
He rolls his hips against Castiel, their cocks sliding together as much as possible through their pants, and groans at the friction that’s too much and not enough all at the same time. Castiel reaches for his belt buckle, but Dean grabs his wrists gently, earning a confused and frustrated look.
“Bedroom,” Dean gasps, the want thrumming through his body making him needy. A look of understanding washes over Castiel’s face and he moves forward again to give Dean a messy kiss before pulling him in what Dean assumes to be the direction of the bedroom. On the way, Dean toes off his socks and sees Castiel unbuckle his belt. He slides it out of his belt loops and tosses it to the side, turning back to catch Dean’s eye, a grin breaking out across his face.
Castiel whips around as if he’s being pulled by magnets and places two hands on Dean’s waist, leaning in to begin sucking a kiss over Dean’s collarbone.
“Fuck, Castiel,” Dean moans, a shudder running through his body when Castiel scrapes his teeth over his skin. “Bed-- f-fuck, now.”
As if he forgot where they were headed, Castiel tilts his head, confused. It then clicks into place once again and he walks backwards, all the while leaning into begin kissing down Dean’s jaw line.
Dean’s hands slide around from their position on Castiel’s hips to the small of his back, drawing him closer. He slipes his hands down into Castiel’s back pockets, squeezing his firm ass. Castiel groans as Dean kneads his hands and his hips buck up into Dean’s.
“D-Dean,” he stutters. Castiel’s back hits the door and he reaches behind himself to open the door and pushes it open, pulling Dean in with him. Dean moves them to the bed until Castiel’s knees hit it and he gently guides him to lay down.
Dean looks down at the sight before him; Castiel shirtless and gasping, a pink flush covering his shoulders and cheeks, his eyes dark with arousal. “Damn,” he says, his mouth falling open in awe. He leans down and sucks kisses down Castiel’s torso. He looks up at Castiel under his lashes before placing his lips over one of Castiel’s nipples.
Castiel’s back arches and his mouth forms a small ‘o’. Dean sucks lightly and runs his teeth gently over the hard nipple. He runs his hands down Castiel’s chest and finds the button of his pants, undoing it with deft fingers. He tugs on the pants and Castiel raises his hips accordingly, wiggling to help Dean pull them down.
Dean releases Castiel’s nipple and looks down at Castiel’s tented boxers. His breath catches at the damp spot and a low moan rips out of his throat. He slides a hand under the boxers and pulls them down. A gasp sounds from Castiel when his erection becomes free from them, bending backwards towards his stomach.
Reaching in his back pocket, Dean grabs the condom he’d slipped in there earlier, just in case. He’s nothing if not prepared. He looks at Castiel and rips the condom packet open with his teeth. Castiel’s eye widen and a moan comes through his spit-slicked lips.
Dean smirks and gets down on his knees between Castiel’s legs. Castiel, who’d been laying back on the bed limp, begins pushing up on his elbows just as Dean rolls the condom on Castiel’s dick. Castiel gasps and falls back on his back like his arms are already too weak.
Deciding to be a little shit, Dean runs his tongue up the underside of Castiel’s cock. Castiel’s breath hitches and his hips buck up off the bed. Dean can hear short, gasping breaths coming from Castiel and it just encourages him to take the head of his cock in his mouth.
“Dean,” Castiel gasps, his back arching off of the bed, pushing more of his cock into Dean’s mouth. Dean smirks around him and slides his mouth down the length of his shaft more, swirling his tongue around the head. “ Fuck .”
That is all Dean can take. He pulls off with an obscene pop and unbuckles his belt. He pops the button open of his pants and pushes them down, all the while Castiel’s eyes are fixed on his crotch. When his pants are down around his knees, Castiel’s eyes widen at his erection standing at attention through his boxers.
He sits up and makes eye contact with Dean as he places his hands on the waistband of his underwear. He slides them down, his eyes sparking when Dean gasps as the cold air touches his dick.
“Lube?” Dean asks, his voice hoarse.
“In the drawer of the nightstand,” Castiel says, his eyes wide. Dean gets up and walks quickly over to the nightstand, kicking his pants the rest of the way off when he trips. He hears Castiel chuckle. Dean forcefully pulls the drawer open, finding a small bottle of lube that’s nearly full.
He crawls back on the bed, trying to be as sexy as possible, a smirk gracing his face. Castiel looks at him with a look of awe that’s way too intimate for the situation, but somehow still makes the heat in Dean’s belly grow. Once Dean makes it back to Castiel, they both lean forward, their lips meeting in the middle.
Castiel pulls back and rests his hand on Dean’s chest. “Promise you’ll be here in the morning,” he says breathlessly, his eyes pleading. How can Dean say no to that?
“I will,” Dean answers, honesty sounding clear in his voice. Castiel’s lips tilt up in a smile and spreads his legs-- an invitation.
Dean shuffles between Castiel’s legs and guides him to lay down on his back, all the while keeping their lips connected. He pops open the lid on the lube and squirts some of it out in his palm.
He braces himself over Castiel with one hand, moving the other to grasp both he and Castiel, swallowing the gasp that comes from Castiel. He hesitantly moves his hand up both of their shafts, moans erupting from both of them.
“Dean. I’m not going to last long,” Castiel gasps.
“Me either, baby. It’s okay.”
Dean moves his hand faster and feels Castiel’s fingers dig into his arm where they’ve been resting. He places a breathless kiss on Castiel’s lips and then leans his forehead against Castiel’s strong shoulder. Both of them gasp with every inhale, rocking their hips towards each other, the amount of friction both too much and not enough at the same time.
“Please, please, please,” Dean hears Castiel whisper, chanting it over and over again. Dean tightens his grip slightly, smirking against Castiel’s shoulder at the pleased shout that comes from the other man as he tilts his head back in ecstasy.
Dean moves his lips up to Castiel’s ear and whispers, “come for me, Cas.”
Judging from the pained whimper that Castiel makes, it was the right thing to say. He draws his face back just in time for Castiel to tip over the edge. His face contorts and his mouth falls open in a soundless scream as he comes, white strips coating both he and Dean’s chests.
The sight alone is enough to push Dean over the edge and soon he is groaning out his own orgasm, collapsing down on Castiel’s chest as he finishes. He feels strong arms wrap around him and fleetingly thinks that what they are doing counts as cuddling, but realizes he doesn’t care. Because the feeling of someone wrapped around him is worth feeling slightly unmasculine.