Archive of Our Own

Dean slid down the cushioned black leather, adjusting his hips and making sure he was comfortable. His upper body was confined in a wooden rectangle, his identity would be hidden from the John fucking him, and vice versa. Someone tugged him forward a little and lifted his legs, attaching them to cuffs on the wall; his legs were held up by the cuffs and made a ‘v’ shape. Dean breathed slowly, willing himself to relax. He was safe here, he knew that. But being so obscenely spread always made him remember the old days.

The days where he had no idea if he would go home with an STD, or even money. The days where he limped around with hand-shaped bruises and nail-inflicted scars. The days where he trudged to his day job with shattered self-worth. Or even the days where he worried if they would finally be kicked out of their shitty one-bedroom apartment.

Now, he had a guarantee that everyone that walked into this room was tested for any and all STDs, a guarantee that he would walk out of this room with a few thousand dollars in his pockets. There was no need to worry about being bruised or beaten, his safety assured by several beefy bodyguards standing around, and even more monitoring them through the dozens of cameras placed throughout the room.

Dean hoped Angel came in today. It was his secret nickname for a man with soft, firm hands, a stubble coated face and a deep, almost rumbling voice; Dean believed he gargled with gravel because of how rough his tone was. Angel liked to tease Dean, frustrate him, deny him, sometimes make him come so much that all he could offer with each orgasm was thin, watery-white semen. He usually hogged Dean, refused to move for anyone else. Dean loved when Angel was there, because he saved Dean a night of fucking a bunch of random people. One anonymous person was better than over a dozen.

A sharp slap landed on Dean’s right thigh. He breathed in quickly, jumping a little, the chains attached to his ankle cuffs rattling. “Get ready, boys,” a man said, British accent thick but not so much that you couldn’t understand him. Dean recognized him as Crowley, the owner of this fine establishment. “Doors are opening in less than a minute.”

Dean squirmed a little, wiggling his ass against the already sticky leather, and closed his eyes. He counted down from thirty, just reaching one, and hearing the doors slam open and the thunderous rumble of feet and laughter. It settled down immediately, and there were soft murmurs of names. People walked around, talking to each other, whispering about which hole looked the tightest and ass the best.

A hand rubbed over Dean’s left thigh, nails scraping down his smooth leg. Dean liked to be clean of hair, it was a personal choice. He got waxed from the shoulders down every little while, and shaved any stray hairs that grew back fast until he could make time for a new waxing appointment. The hand moved down to his bare ass, spreading his cheeks and rubbing a finger over his slick rim.

“Always look so good for me, Dean-o,” the man touching him said, voice nasally sounding. Dean winced, turning his head and looking at his ‘safeword’ button. He hated Nasal and didn’t understand why Crowley refused to kick him off the list. Sure, he probably paid a pretty penny, but there were plenty of other rich bastards out there that would be willing to pay a fuckton for a few asses and mouths. Dean sighed softly and closed his eyes, imagining Angel’s thick cock sliding into his ass instead of Nasal’s drastically smaller one.

The only good thing about Nasal was that he didn’t last long at all. It was barely three minutes in when Dean felt him pull out and come on his taint and ass. Dean heard him hum happily and the sound of his pants being pulled up. Nasal walked away and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. The relief was short-lived, however, as another hand smeared through the come and a cock pushed into his ass.

Angel wasn’t here.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

Dean followed his little brother, Sam, into a neat little cafe. Immediately looking around for the prices, wondering if he could even afford anything in here. Not too bad, he supposed. He looked back at Sam and shuffled up behind him in the short line. 

There was a young woman in front of him, and a young child that didn’t appear to know her. Dean spotted an apple pie that looked sinfully delicious, and licked his lips. He was definitely getting some of that, or maybe even the whole thing.

“Dean!” Sam pointed at a croissant, with powdered sugar and chocolate drizzled on top. “Can I have that?” Sam gave him his best puppy dog eyes. Dean pushed Sam’s shoulder lightly, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, okay,” he muttered, watching Sam grin brightly at him. “What else do you want?”

“Green tea,” Sam pointed up at one of the displays above the counter. It had a bunch of coffee and tea drinks. Dean nodded, and Sam smirked happily, crossing his arms over his chest and no doubt feeling like he’d won the lottery.

They shuffled up the line, the little kid running off to a table where a couple sat. The woman was next, and she only ordered a black coffee. It took less than a minute for her drink to be served to her, and she walked to a table to sit down. The man behind the counter was short, and looked tired, but he still smiled.

“Hey there,” he greeted, glancing between both of them. “What can I get you?”

“Hey,” Dean said in reply. “He’ll have one of those chocolate croissant things and a green tea.”

“Sure,” the man, Gabriel, his name tag read, said. He took out a croissant from the display case, setting it on a clean white plate, and ordered a red-headed girl to make a green tea. “What about you?”

Dean pursed his lips, looking at the pies. “I’ll have a cappuccino and, uh, how much is a pie?” he asked, glancing back at Gabriel. The man raised a brow, lips twitching up.

“The whole thing? It depends on the pie.”

“The apple one on the top shelf.”

“That’s a... nine inch pie so...” Gabriel hummed, then shrugged. “I’ll give it to you for ten.” The red-headed set down a cup of steaming green tea, flashing them a smile before walking away. “Cappuccino too, Charlie!”

“On it!” Charlie replied, already making it.

“It says it’s a dollar and fifty cents a slice, and it’s cut into eight slices,” Sam piped up, leaning onto the counter. “It should be twelve dollars.”

Gabriel laughed. “Do you guys really want it for twelve dollars? I’m saving ya two bucks here, kid,” Gabriel said.

“Ten’s perfect,” Dean said quickly, poking Sam in this side and glaring at him. Sam shrugged and grinned at Gabriel.

“’kay,” Gabriel winked at Sam. Dean resisted the urge to straggle the man. Sam was barely sixteen, and this guy was, at least, in his late-twenties. Gabriel looked under the counter and frowned. “Cassie! Get me a pie box!” Gabriel yelled at the kitchen door, body turned slightly.

“One second!” A voice yelled back. Dean frowned, wondering why it sounded familiar. There was a loud bang from the kitchen, followed by a curse. A ruffled man appeared in the doorway moments later, covered in flour and holding a cardboard white box with a logo on the top. 

Dean bit the inside of his cheek, taking the man in. His hair was sticking up in all directions, and there was flour stuck in it. His face had a thick layer of stubble and his eyes were a dark blue. He was slim but muscled, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal thick forearms. And he was just the right amount of tan.

“Here you go,” the man said, handing the box over. Dean tensed. It couldn’t be. “And my name isn’t Cassie.” It was. Dean swallowed thickly, mouth dry and stomach fluttering. No, no, no. The man looked over at him, curious. Dean turned red and looked down at the counter, ignoring Sam’s curious foot nudge and turning his face away. The man wouldn’t recognize him like this but he felt so awkward being around him at this moment.

“Uh-huh,” Gabriel said. “Sure thing, Cassie.”

“It’s Castiel,” the blue-eyed man sighed. “Your cookies are almost done.” He spun on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen, the door swinging behind him. Dean ran a hand through his hair, flustered. Castiel? That was an angel name, wasn’t it?

“He,” Dean cleared his throat. “He works here?”

Gabriel eyed him. “Who? Cassie? No,” he shrugged. “He’s just being a good little brother and helping me out.” Gabriel stared at him, scrutinizing him. Protective older brother, great.

“Nice,” Dean muttered. Gabriel set the box down on the counter and got the pie from the display case, setting it inside carefully and closing the lid. He rang up their order, announcing the price was just under twenty dollars. Dean handed over a twenty, picking up the pie box and his cappuccino that he didn’t notice Charlie bring over. “Thank you,” Dean said. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” Gabriel said after him. Dean shuffled over to the back and sat down at a window table.

Sam sat down opposite of him and started eating his croissant, sighing happily. “This is good,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. Dean nodded, sipping his own cappuccino and looking over at the kitchen door. Castiel appeared in the doorway again, leaning against the frame and chatting with Gabriel. He looked over at Dean with an intense gaze, his lips twitched up. Dean felt his face warm up again, but refused to look away.

Castiel glanced at Gabriel, and seeing he was now talking to Charlie, he looked back at Dean and winked, stepping back, disappearing into the kitchen again. Damn. Dean was screwed.

Dean found himself laying on the leather bench for a second time this week. It didn’t happen often, he usually only did this once a week - sometimes every other week, but Crowley occasionally had a large amount of customers and had to split the party into two days. Dean lay on his belly this time, his hips just outside the little hole in the wall. The bench had cut off at his hips but there was a thinner part in the center that was tucked between his legs.

His balls were pressed almost painfully into it, as well as his cock. But Dean actually liked the feeling of it. Plus, he had somewhere to rut against if he wanted. His ankles were cuffed again, legs spread, and chained to the floor this time, instead of the wall. Dean let his arms hang off the sides of the bench, resting his cheek on a pillow.

He shifted on the balls of his feet, just barely reaching the floor. Crowley came down the line, checking they were secured, and slapping Dean’s ass like he did last time. “You boys ready?” he said loudly. They all grunted in reply. “Thirty seconds.” Crowley walked off.

Dean hoped for Angel, but was worried now that he knew his identity. Would he accidentally say his name? Dean knew he had a very strong amount of self-control but sometimes he slipped. He really hoped he didn’t. He didn’t want to even think about what Angel would do. He didn’t want to say his name. He didn’t want Angel to know that he had figured out who he was. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

Dean heard the doors open, and the shuffle of feet. The people were quieter this time, not as loud as the last group had been. It sounded like there weren’t as many too. Maybe half of what the other group had been. The people trickled in slowly, shuffling around and finding what they wanted, be it a pair of lips or an ass or a dick.

A gentle hand rubbed over Dean’s left hip, fingers curling around it and holding onto him firmly. “Hello there,” a voice whispered. Dean barely held in a groan. It was Angel! “How have you been, darling?” Angel was unbuckling his belt and pushing down his zipper. Dean wiggled his hips eagerly.

“Good,” he murmured in reply. “You?”

“I am well,” Angel hummed softly. He rubbed the head of his cock against Dean’s lube slick hole, teasing his rim and making Dean shiver. Angel pressed his cock into Dean slowly, taking his sweet time, rocking back and forth as he fucked in and out of Dean. Dean clenched around his thick cock, twitching his hips and shuffling his feet.

It took forever but when Angel finally sank all the way inside of Dean, he couldn’t stop the whine that escaped his throat. Angel chuckled in reply, pressing firmly against Dean’s ass, letting him feel the smooth fabric of his pants. Angel groaned quietly, his other hand curling around Dean’s other hip. “You’re so tight tonight, darling,” Angel cooed, sounding pleased.

Dean couldn’t stop the way he clenched tighter around Angel, and he grinned when he heard Angel moan and felt his hips twitch. Dean wanted to demand and force that Angel move his hips, fuck his cock in and out of his ass, but he knew better than that now. He knew that he would have to be patient, Angel would move at his own pace. Angel always left him satisfied in the end, always left him a weakened little mess.

He could beg though.

“Please,” he said, just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of skin slapping skin and moans. “Please.” His thighs were already quivering with anticipation, desperation. His cock was hard beneath his stomach, twitching and leaking onto the leather. Angel didn’t reply, didn’t move. The bastard. “Sir, please.”

“I’m sorry. Yes? Do you need something?” Angel asked, indifferent. Dean bit back a growl of annoyance. He breathed deeply for a few seconds, hole fluttering around Angel’s cock.

“Yes, sir,” Dean said. “I- Please fuck me. I-.. I need you. Sir.” His face was heating up, his embarrassment growing. There was always something about begging that ruined him. He didn’t usually do it, didn’t like it, but begging for something from Angel was different. It was a little better, easier. And he didn’t know why that was. Maybe it was because he couldn’t see him. Maybe it was because he didn’t really know him. Maybe it was because he kind of liked him. Begging Angel always made him hornier, even if there was a sharp twinge of humiliation in there as well.

Angel rolled his hips, pulling out barely an inch and pushing back in. Dean inhaled loudly, thighs twitching. Angel stayed still for a few seconds, then did it again. Dean turned his head, pressing his forehead to the pillow, closing his eyes and breathing slowly. He lifted his hands, gripping the bars along the side of the bench. Angel did it again and again. He never pulled out more than an inch, but Dean could certainly feel him move inside of his ass; the drag of his thick dick.

Dean arched his back as much as he could, biting his lip and breathing heavily, quickly, through his nose. Angel pulled out about halfway, slamming straight back in and going still. Dean choked on a groan, jerking forward. He pushed himself up using the bar, moving up onto the tips of his toes and shifting his hips. His cock dragged along the warm leather below, dribbling out more precum. He shifted his hips as much as he could, rocking on Angel’s cock. Angel wouldn’t move until he stopped, he knew that much, but he was itching to move.

Dean stopped after a few minutes, growing tired, and settled back down onto the balls of his feet. Only a little satisfied. Angel tightened his hands around Dean’s hips, and started slowly pulling out of his ass. Dean hissed lowly, feeling every inch of his cock pull out of him. Angel pulled out almost to the very tip, then slid back in at the same pace. He took his sweet time, clearly enjoying the way Dean squirmed and fluttered around him, trying to pull him in faster, deeper.

Angel stayed still, deep inside of him, pressing on his prostate. Dean closed his eyes and relaxed as much as he could. He counted slowly in his head, taking note of how many seconds went by, how many minutes. He jumped slightly when a loud laugh rang out through the air, but settled back down immediately. Angel’s right hand moved up his body, rubbing his lower back. He lightly dug his nails into Dean’s skin, scraping down towards his ass, and over his cheeks.

“Ah.” Dean made a noise, a mix of a gasp and a pleased sigh. He shivered, curling his toes. He was ticklish, Angel knew that. Angel grasped his hip again, lifted his hips. He pulled out quickly and slammed right back in. Dean jumped, choking out a surprised moan, and jerking his hips. He did it again. And again.

“Yes, yes,” Dean gasped. He gripped the bars tightly, dropping back onto the bench, and burying his face into his pillow. He whined softly, the sound muffled by the flowery smelling pillow. Castiel aimed for his prostate, merciless and determined and sounding so goddamn hot with each soft and breathy moan that left his lips. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard and unsteady, feeling each quick snap on Angel’s hips like a slap to his ass.

He was shamefully close.

He blamed Castiel for his somewhat newly acquired ability to come as hard and as many times as a pubescent boy. Dean hissed out a breath thought his teeth, arching his back and meeting Castiel’s thrusts as best he could. His thighs trembled and his stomach flipped and fluttered, his cock leaking out onto the bench. He lifted himself up onto his toes, ignoring the stretch in his legs, and humped the precum slicked leather bench, desperate.

Castiel stopped moving.

“Cast- Cas!” he cried out with frustration, the sound muffled by his pillow. Castiel bristled behind him, and his nails dug into his hips. Dean tensed, lifting his head at the sudden stings of pain. Cas-no, Angel let go of him and pulled out, fumbling with his zipper and belt. Dean swallowed dryly. And, of course, he fucked up. Dean squirmed, and bit his lip, eyes stinging, as Angel shuffled away and practically ran off.

Dean slumped onto the bench, feeling a rough, large hand grab his ass and crudely spread his cheeks apart. He winced as the man pushed into him, his cock much bigger than Dean was prepared for. Dean slid his hands under his pillow, pressing it up onto his face, and growled with anger - and some pain.

Dean nervously shuffled through the doorway for the third time this week, glancing around quickly and finding the place nearly deserted save for a few elderly people. Dean looked at the counter and found it clear of any employees. He sighed and walked up to the counter, pressing a little bell and lifting his head as Gabriel’s voice drifted to him from the kitchen.

“Coming!”

Dean shifted over to the pie section, and looked at all the different kinds. The apple pie had been absolutely delicious, and Dean had barely been able to share it with his little brother and his boss slash pseudo uncle, Bobby Singer. Dean crouched down and looked at a small, single person serving, of pecan pie. He licked his lips, already salivating just thinking of digging into it.

“Ah, you again,” Gabriel said, sounding amused. Dean looked up and offered the man a hesitant smile, standing up and walking over to the counter. “What can I get you today, bud?”

“That pecan pie at the bottom,” Dean said, pointing at the one he wanted. “And a cappuccino. Thanks.” Dean had had a latte yesterday but he hadn’t like it as much as a cappuccino.

“That’ll be $5.95,” Gabriel said. He got out Dean’s pie and removed it from the tin plate, setting it on a white plate and sticking it in the warmer tucked close to the coffee machines before starting to make Dean his drink. Dean looked at the pie, nose twitching like he could actually smell it. He couldn’t. But it was the thought that counted. Dean pulled out his wallet and found six dollars, setting it down onto the counter for Gabriel to cash when he finished with his drink and his pie was warm enough. He removed a five dollar bill and tucked it into the little tips jar in front of the register, then pocketed his wallet.

“Here you go,” Gabriel said, setting his drink down. He checked the pie and deemed it warm enough, removing it from the warmer and getting a knife and fork for Dean to use. “Want anything else?” he asked, opening the cash register and tucking the six dollars inside, handing Dean his five cents. Dean dropped it into the little tips jar.

“Nah,” he said. “Thanks, Gabriel.” Dean shared a smile with the man, picking his things up and shuffling to the back to sit down. He looked up towards the front as the bell attached to the door rang and felt his mouth dry up. Finally, he thought.

Angel - no, his name was Castiel and he should call him so when not at work, stepped into the cafe and walked up to the front counter. He leaned on it as he chatted quietly with his brother. He looked good in his neat beige trench coat, fitted black suit, white dress shirt and thin, deep blue tie. He still had the messy hair from last time Dean had seen him, and he looked tired from what Dean could see.

Dean looked down at his pie, he picked up his fork and pushed it into the top, breaking off a small piece. Dean stuck the fork in his mouth and chewed the piece of pie, barely holding in a small moan at how absolutely sinful it was. He broke off another piece, stuffing it into his mouth before he could even swallow the first bite.

“May I join you?”

Dean froze, lifting his eyes up. He swallowed thickly, swallowing and licking his lips of any crumbs. He nodded, face warming up as Castiel smiled and sat down across from him with a cup of coffee and a jam tart. “I’m Dean,” he said slowly, quietly, shifting nervously in his seat.

“Castiel,” he replied, holding his hand out. Dean set his fork down and shook it, biting his inner cheek at the familiar, soft hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” They both let go and lowered their arms. Dean nodded, as if to say ‘yeah, you too’ and picked up his coffee, holding it with both hands as he sipped the hot drink carefully. 

What did Dean say next? Did he ask him what he liked to do? Did he ask him how he was? What he did for a living? Dean was at a loss. He was blanking on how to have a conversation with another. He was scared Castiel would recognize him somehow and call him out for prostituting himself.

“I, ah,” Castiel cleared his throat. “I remember you from the other day.” He picked up his coffee and sipped it slowly before continuing. “Gabriel’s been encouraging me to ask you out.” He set his cup down and scratched the side of his neck, looking adorably nervous. “So... Would you... go out with me?”

“Sure,” Dean leaned back, feeling a little more confident. Castiel practically beamed at him. Dean smiled slyly. “As long as this is considered our first date.”

“Of course.” Castiel picked off little crumbs from the shell of his tart. “I understand it’s customary to ask your date what they like to do in their spare time.” It was worded weirdly. And Dean didn’t know if it a statement or a question, but decided he would answer him anyways.

He paused and wondered for a second if Castiel would recognize his voice, then decided that if he hadn’t already, he probably wouldn’t later. He was safe, he supposed. “Working on my car, uh, reading,” Dean scratched the back of his neck. “I love driving, and cooking... baking. It’s... soothing.” Damn. What else did he like to do? He liked to LARP. But he didn’t want Castiel thinking he was a nerd. He was, of course, but still. “What- what about you?”

“I like reading too, and cooking, baking.” Castiel licked his lips and looked down at his tart. “Jogging helps clear my head. I’m not sure if it’s a hobby but I like to do it often.” Castiel lifted his eyes, staring at Dean from beneath his lashes. Dean smiled.

“I guess it is, then,” he said, and Castiel nodded.

Dean told Castiel a little about his day job working for his uncle Bobby as a mechanic, telling the other about the sweet cars he restores sometimes. Castiel told him a little about his own job as well. The best things about his job as an auditor, he said, was that he gets to travel to different places around the country a lot, sometimes even outside the country, and he gets nearly a whole season of vacation days that he usually spends overseas. 

Then their conversation turned to cooking and baking. Dean shared about the times he learned how to cook and bake, the silly mistakes he used to make and the improvements he’d made. Castiel told him about the times he spent in Europe, specifically in France and Italy, learning techniques and perfecting recipes. 

It was incredibly late by the time they started wrapping their conversation up. It was dark outside, and the cafe was empty save for Gabriel, who was napping on the front counter. Castiel and Dean snuck into the kitchen and washed their plates, setting them to dry. Castiel walked Dean to the cafe door, whispering goodbye to him. Dean hesitantly gave him a hug, because it was easier than a kiss, and carefully slithered out through the doorway, making sure the bell at the top didn’t jingle.

Today, he decided, was weird. Good, of course, but weird.

Six weeks passed from the day at the cafe, and truly, not a lot had changed. Sure, he was now sort of dating Castiel but the man still didn’t know about his second job, and Castiel still returned every week for the last six weeks to visit him as Angel. Dean didn’t know how to feel about that, especially since they weren’t having sex as a couple, but knew he had no right to judge, considering he’d probably be fucking dozens and dozens of men if it weren’t for Angel.

It was just after ten and the night was done. The customers had been kicked out and the doors locked. Dean and the rest of the workers were unbuckled and they shuffled out of the holes, heading for the showers tucked way into the back of the building. Dean showered quickly, scrubbing his body of sweat and come and lube. He dried off with a towel and wore the clothes he’d stuffed into his duffle bag when he’d come here and stripped for the night, pulling on his thick green military jacket as well. Dean tossed his borrowed towel into the large hamper tucked in the corner by the showers.

Dean waved at a few people he knew, saying goodbye, and headed for the Crowley’s office. He collected his three thousand dollars with minimal conversation and left. He was tired, mentally and physically. Angel always fucked him too good. Dean chuckled to himself, pulling his keys from the small pocket in his duffle. He shuffled up to his Baby, glancing around at the nearly empty parking lot. It was a cold night.

A few drops of rain came down on his head, and as Dean tilted his head back to look at the dark sky, sheets of rain began coming down. Dean cursed, but still managed to smile at the cool water, and unlocked his car quickly, slipping into the driver’s seat. He tossed his duffle into the backseat, slumping back and groaning as his body relaxed into the comfy seat.

Dean turned his car on, listening to her rumble to life, and switched gears. He turned the wipers on and checked to make sure the coast was clear before leaving his parking space and leading for the first exit he saw. He easily merged with the few cars on the road, driving through the thick sheets of rain, heading home.

Dean pulled into the driveway of Castiel’s home, finding his car already there. He got his duffle bag from the backseat, knowing he’d need it since he was spending the night with Castiel. Dean turned his car off and braced himself for the rain, quickly getting out and locking his car, jogging up to the front door. He was still a little wet by the time he reached the porch, but he didn’t mind.

Castiel opened the door and grinned at him. “Hey,” he greeted, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the left corner of Dean’s lips. Dean returned the kiss and stepped into Castiel’s house. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small either; it was just the right size. Dean removed his shoes and set them on a tray in the corner, hanging his jacket and setting his duffle bag down as well.

“I can make you a sandwich, if you like,” Castiel said, walking to the kitchen. “Beer?” Dean followed him and accepted the beer Castiel handed him, taking a few gulps before sighing. Dean shook his head in reply for the sandwich so Castiel pulled him towards the family room, plopping down sideways on the sectional he had in there, gesturing Dean to come sit between his legs.

Dean rolled his eyes but sat down between his thighs, leaning against his chest and ignoring the television to their right. He leaned forward and set his beer down on the coffee table, yawning and stretching his legs out. “Damn, I’m tired,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Castiel set his beer down as well and tugged the thick blanket off the back of the sectional, spreading it over Dean and himself. “I’m sure you are,” Castiel said in reply, hugging Dean close to his chest. “Sleep.” Dean groaned and turned over, pressing his face into Castiel’s chest and wrapping his arms around him.

“’kay,” he muttered. Dean didn’t sleep though. He just lay there, soothed by Castiel’s warmth and the hand in his hair, relaxing. Castiel’s lips pressed against the top of his head, his nose pressing into his hair. His other hand slipped under Dean’s shirt and rubbed at his spine, fingers scratching lightly against his skin.

Dean blinked his eyes open and sighed, rubbing his cheek against Castiel’s soft grey shirt. “What?” Castiel muttered into his hair. Dean shook his head. Castiel’s fingers pressed a little harder into his back, rubbing over his shoulders now. Dean groaned, pleased, and dozed off.

Dean woke up hard as a rock.

He sat up, blinking in the dark, and glanced around. He was now in Castiel’s bedroom, tucked under a thin sheet and thick comforter. Dean lay back down, trying to ignore the hard beating of his heart in his chest. He turned his head, wiggling his hips and letting out a soft, breathy sigh at the slight rubbing on his cock.

Castiel was curled up beside him, facing him. He looked peaceful, from what Dean could see. Dean reached a hand down and cupped himself, closing his eyes. He barely held in a small moan. It was rare for him to wake up with morning wood after getting fucked so thoroughly the night before, but it happened sometimes and he couldn’t help it. 

Dean palmed himself gently, biting his lip hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. His mouth was dry, and didn’t taste good. Dean reached his left hand down and grabbed the edge of the bed, trying to breath slowly and quietly. Castiel didn’t snore, not really; and Dean was pretty sure he was a light sleeper. Dean let go of his cock and released his tight hold on the bed. He slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side, carefully standing up.

“Dean,” Castiel murmured sleepily. Dean froze and let out a soft sigh. He turned to the side, finding Castiel still had his eyes closed. He waited for a second, hoping Castiel would go back to sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he croaked, throat dry. Dean cleared it loudly, wincing. “Go back to sleep. I’m just gonna use the bathroom.”

“Dean.” Castiel sounded amused, and hesitant.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“Come here for a second?”

Dean licked his lips, tasting his blood from his bottom lip. Damn, he had bit it really hard. Dean slowly crawled back into bed, facing Castiel on his side and curling his legs close to his chest. He was hidden by the covers but he pushed his cock down against his legs anyways, trying to make sure Castiel didn’t feel him at all.

Dean blinked and he was on his back. He gulped, loud in the silent room. Castiel straddled his thighs, hands pressed to Dean’s chest. He hummed and moved his hands up his body, over his shoulders and onto the bed. He leaned forward, bracing himself with his arms, and pressed a painfully soft kiss to Dean’s left cheek, and then his right.

“Would you like some help with that, darling?” Castiel murmured, voice dropping lower. Dean squirmed, cock twitching at the new tone. He nodded slowly, hoping Castiel would feel it. Thankfully, he seemed to. His hand wrapped around the base of Dean’s cock, squeezing lightly. Dean clenched his jaw and hissed through his teeth, jerking his hips up. “You like that, baby? Does my hand feel good?”

“Yeah,” he replied, just as soft as Castiel had spoken. Castiel kissed him, lips closed. Dean pressed back, parting his lips and sticking his tongue out, licking the seam between Castiel’s dry lips. Asking to be let in. Castiel parted his lips and bit lightly on Dean’s tongue. Dean throbbed in his hand, feeling a drop of precum bubble up at the top of his cock.

Neither of their mouths tasted very good at the moment, and it wasn’t that hot, not really, but Dean wouldn’t change this moment in any way. Castiel kissed him again then bit Dean’s bottom lip, dragging it through his teeth and forcing a whimper from Dean’s throat. It hurt, especially since he’d already bit it hard enough to draw blood, but it intensified the throb in his cock and Dean couldn’t complain.

Dean drove his hips up into Castiel’s hand, tilting his head back and exposing his neck. He groaned softly, eyes falling shut. Castiel latched onto his neck, sucking gently but firmly. He wouldn’t leave marks, which was disappointing, but it still felt so good. Tingles shot throughout Dean’s body, making him shiver.

“Cas,” he rasped, fucking up into his hand. “God, please, Angel. I’m gonna come.” Castiel bit his neck lightly then kissed the spot gently, laving at his skin right after. He doesn’t say anything in reply but he does tighten his grip and stroke Dean faster. “Baby, baby, plea- fuck, oh fuck- I’m-”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut tighter, choking on a moan and arching his back. He came hard, body trembling and jerking, come dribbling out of his cock and over Castiel’s hand. Castiel didn’t stop stroking him, milking his cock of every last drop of come. “Fuck,” he whimpered, breathing hard.

“That was so hot, baby,” Castiel cooed into his ear. He kissed Dean’s left cheek, pressing little kisses all over his face. “So fucking beautiful. Loved watching you come. Making you come.” Castiel kissed over his jaw, then under his chin and neck. He buried his face in Dean’s neck, sighing softly. “You’re incredible, darling.”

“Mm,” Dean let out a huffing laugh. “Keep saying that crap and it’s going to go to my head.”

“It’s not crap,” Castiel immediately protested. He sat up a little, looking down at Dean with a disapproving frown. “It’s true. You’re so beautiful, Dean.”

Dean stared at him for a second, swallowing a few times, throat and mouth dry. Dean licked his lips, which didn’t help much, but the action was a little soothing. “Thanks,” he whispered hoarsely, clearing his throat. Castiel smiled softly, leaning down and pecking him on the lips.

“Come on,” he said, standing up. “Let’s clean up.” He offered Dean his clean hand, helping to pull him to his feet. They shuffled into the bathroom together, cleaning up quickly. Dean walked over to the toilet to pee, glaring at Castiel every time he turned to watch him.

“What? You got a pee fetish or somethin’?” he snapped, narrowing his eyes. Castiel grinned darkly and winked, but he shook his head after and walked out of the bathroom, giving Dean some privacy. Dean finished up quickly and cleaned up, drying his hands off after he finished washing them.

He turned the bathroom light off and closed the door, leaving it open a crack. He walked back to the bed, crawling under the sheets and curling up beside Castiel. It was still nice and warm under the sheets, and Dean immediately felt sleepy.

Castiel shuffled down a little and rested his head on Dean's chest, throwing an arm over his stomach and a leg over his thighs. Dean huffed and hugged him closer, nuzzling his face into Castiel's hair.

“Hey, babe?” Dean called, wringing his hands nervously. It was Castiel’s turn to cook and he was finishing up dinner. A simple lasagna and salad. Dean would have to start on the dishes while it cooked. He hated doing the dishes after eating.

“Yes?” Castiel replied, distracted. Dean closed his eyes, biting his inner cheek. What was he going to say, again? Job. Right. "Dean?"

"Uh, can you come here for a sec?" Dean winced. He sounded nervous. He cleared his throat and tried to calm down.

"Gimme a minute."

"Okay," Dean muttered. He breathed a little, trying to slow his harshly beating heart. It was getting more and more difficult to imagine saying this to Castiel. Castiel couldn’t judge him though. He had no right. None.

“What’s up?” Castiel asked, plopping down next to him with a sigh. Dean opened his eyes and stared straight ahead, tensing his thighs and making fists with his hands. “Dean? Are you okay?” Castiel ran a hand through Dean’s hair, gently scratching his scalp, trying to soothe him.

It worked. A little.

Just say it, Dean. He tried to encourage himself. Just say it and get it over with.

"I had a second job," he said, voice cracking a little. Dean felt Castiel tense up beside him, and closed his eyes again. Maybe he would pretend like he didn't go to Crowley's every week. "I fucked people for money."

"You're a... prostitute?" Castiel asked, sounding blank. Dean nodded, biting his inner cheek harder. Not hard enough to draw any blood, but enough that he felt the pain. Pain was familiar, it was a little more calming. "Can I tell you something, Dean?"

"Yeah?" Well, he wasn't reacting badly. Dean hoped he wouldn't.

"Every week, once a week," he started. "I go to a private party."

"Yeah?" Was he really..?

"And I fuck a pretty little boy," Castiel continued. He leaned closer, pressing his lips to Dean's ear. "He has such a nice ass, baby. It's perky and plump. It's a little pale, and there are a few freckles on it too."

He was. Dean gulped hard, muttering, "Yeah?"

"Mhmm." Castiel chuckled. "He begs for my cock, takes it so well. And he makes the prettiest little noises while I fuck him. You know what he calls me, baby?"

Dean opened his eyes. "What? What does he say?"

"He calls me 'Angel,'" Castiel said. Dean's left hand started trembling, followed by his right. "And sometimes, when he's so out of it, so fucked out, so gone... he calls me 'Cas.'"

"Y-yeah?"

"And, baby," Castiel murmured. He moved fast, suddenly straddling Dean's thighs and hips, cradling his face in his hands. Dean stared up at Castiel, lips parted. "He sounds just like you," Castiel whispered, bumping their noses together.

"How long have you known?" Dean asked, leaning back. Castiel sat back, resting on his thighs. He didn't say anything for several moments, just stared at Dean with soft eyes.

"Figured it out a few days after I met you," Castiel said finally. He ran a hand through Dean's hair, frowning a little. "I don't think any different of you, Dean. I don't."

"I quit," Dean muttered.

"You did?" Castiel pulled back, tilting Dean's head back and staring him in the eye. "When?"

"This afternoon," Dean said, shrugging a little. "I don't have debts to pay anymore." Castiel pecked him gently on the lips, over and over and over.

"Now I can fuck you without paying five thousand dollars," Castiel suddenly said, chuckling to himself. Dean snorted.

"My ass is worth more than that."

"Yes, it is," Castiel said, narrowing his eyes. "But my inheritance has taken quite the hit and I can't afford to pay more for your priceless little ass." Dean laughed, pushing Castiel down onto the cushions and kissing him soundly.

"Maybe I can fuck you too," Dean said quietly, nervously, nipping at Castiel's jaw. Castiel stopped him, staring at him with an indecipherable expression. Or maybe not. "If you're okay with it, of course."

"Maybe we should skip dinner," Castiel mused, licking his lips. He glanced down between their bodies, biting his bottom lip and letting it slide out from between his teeth. "Go upstairs."

"What?" Dean sat up, brows furrowing.

"Go upstairs. I'm turning the oven off and you're going to fuck me." Castiel tilted his head, lips turning up ever so slightly. His expression made Dean shiver.

"But-"

"Now," Castiel growled. Dean's cock jumped and twitched in his jeans and he jumped to his feet, nearly running out of the room and up the stairs to the bedroom. Fuck yes, Dean grinned and jumped onto the bed, bouncing on his back before settling and staring up at the ceiling.