Rated: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Warnings/Tags: PublicSex, Frottage, LightSpanking, SuitKink (is that a thing?), Top Cas, Bottom Dean, Dom Cas (to some extent), Sub Dean (to some extent), Desk Sex, kinda schmoopy I guess
Words: 2838
Summary: Cas bends Dean over a desk during a case - because he just can't handle the sight of the hunter's tight ass in dark suit slacks.
Notes: All mistakes are mine. Reviews are like chocolate. Hope you enjoy :D
Dean certainly wasn't expecting it, that was for sure.
They - he and Cas - had ridden up to Rawlins to investigate a series of...weird deaths (as in, 'strung up from the ceiling by hooks through their ears' kinda weird). Usual cover - FBI agents, fake badges (Dirnt and Armstrong), the whole shabang. In fact, they were in the local police station when it happened - a busy, filled-to-the-brim with workers police station, let Dean remind you.
He'd been looking for the wayward angel, trotting down the hall to tell him about a possible lead when he heard heavy footsteps behind him.
Hands, impatient and rough, tugged him into a side office, and Dean's first instinct was to struggle - fight back against whatever decided to attack him this time over - but then he felt lips just below his ear, stubble and hot breath tickling his skin as he was shoved roughly forwards. His knees hit solid wood (Jesus, that was gonna bruise) and all the air left his chest as he slammed forwards over the low desk, hands splaying over the surface, elbows pointing towards the ceiling, tie loose from behind his blazer and spilling out in front of him. Shakily, he drew in a breath, forcing the world to right itself.
"Holy fuck, Cas, what are you-?"
The angel draped himself over Dean's back, effectively cutting off whatever the hunter was going to say as he mouthed at Dean's neck, covering the other's hands with his own.
"I - I don't -" Cas' voice had turned guttural, the usual gravel mixed with something far more agressive, grinding himself into Dean's ass with abandon, "Your suit - Dean -"
The human had no fucking clue what the hell his suit had to do with this, but he cared less and less as the seconds ticked by, losing himself in the feeling of the hardness at his backside, of warm hands gripping his own and - teeth, oh God teeth now - biting and nipping at the small sliver of exposed flesh above his collar. He groaned, ignoring the dulling pain that had rattled his bones moments before, feeling heat starting to lick tentatively up his insides.
"Shit, Cas, we can't -" - oh how he wished they could - "Not here, anybody could - oh fuck...!"
Cas clamped down on Dean's earlobe, hard, and Dean actually felt his legs fucking spasm, eyes flickering in a half-hearted attempt to open. His treacherous body betrayed his intentions, hips rolling back onto Cas' clothed cock insistently, letting loose a low moan when one of the angel's hands reached up to tug at his hair, pulling the hunter's head back in order to bare the smooth expanse of his throat to those plush lips.
"Want you here, Dean," Cas growled lowly against the bolt of his jaw, his uncertainty from earlier completely gone - the demanding tone made Dean's heart hammer, cock quickly picking up on the situation, "I want you... on this desk. Right now."
Dean swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing slowly - up, down - as he watched the vague shadow of his lover from the corner of his eye. He knew Cas was silently asking permission - he always did, even when Dean was the one doing the pushing and the biting; but that was just Cas. Too damn careful for his own good.
Dean adored it.
Though, he'd never say it out loud. There was gay and then there was gay. And Dean was certainly not gay, thank you very much.
...he thinks to himself as his boyfriend languidly molests his neck with his tongue.
Dean Winchester's life, everyone.
When Cas' tongue swiped the sensitve line of his jaw as a way of silently pleading, Dean finally broke.
"God dammit Cas, fucking get on with it then!" He rumbled, nails digging into the wood - mahogany, his brain absurdly noticed - and leaving telling scrapes behind that the owner of the office would probably question when they saw them. Which lead to another chilling thought.
"Lock the door - and close the damn blinds," he breathed, feeling Cas' other hand (ya know, the one that wasn't currently yanking on Dean's hair like he was some kind of bitch to be ordered around [God he loved it]) skimming down the length of his body, reaching down to grope his ass through the tight material of his slacks. There was a resounding click, accompanied by the sound of half-closed blinds dropping shut completely.
"Done," Cas whispered back, pinning Dean to the piece of furniture with his hips, rolling forward harshly. Both men flinched when two of the desk's legs came up off the floor from the force of Cas' hips, canting sideways, loud bumps echoing through the room while Dean's feet dangled, tips of his shoes barely brushing the carpet. As hot as it was, this was not the appropriate time for crazy-ass angelic strength.
"Jesus Cas -" Dean panted; Cas' fingers had just begun to tug impatiently at Dean's belt, "- someone's gonna fuckin' hear us -"
"Then let them," Cas huffed, voice dropping a whole fucking register as he licked a stripe up the shell of Dean's ear, leaving the human's body humming with pleasure, "I know you like it - the thought of us being caught... like this..."
A sharp jut of hips punctuated the end of the angel's sentence, making Dean jolt upwards as a wave of what he was sure was magma blazed through him, his cock rubbing against the desk in a slide that wasn't nearly enough - Dean writhed out his complaint, gasping out Cas' name between his teeth as he struggled to draw in breath.
"Fuck yes," he grinned in response, almost sighing with relief when Cas' straightened, his weight leaving Dean's back as he forced Dean's hips backwards, a hand snaking around to the hunter's front and slipping his belt buckle open. Dean bucked into Cas' touch, never admitting to the whimper that scratched his throat when he found no friction waiting for him. Teasing fucking bastard.
In desperation, Dean flung out a hand, intent on gripping Cas' forearm and forcing the angel's hand down the front of his slacks. But the gentle slap he received on his ass warned him to stay put. And he did as he was told - although, he almost regretted telling Cas about his little slapping kink in the first place.
Almost.
"Keep your hands to yourself, Dean," Cas murmured quietly, and Dean certainly did not fucking miss the little snarl that underlined those words in thick black marker, "I want... to take my time."
Dean's fingers dug into the desk that much harder.
Fucking angels, man. Literally.
"We don't have time, Cas," hissed, his tone less commanding than earlier - he knew better than to toe the line at this point, "There are people right the fuck outside-"
Another slap, a little harder this time. Dean whined, squirming beneath his lover's hands.
"I know," Dean didn't even have to look to know the idiot was wearing that smug little smirk he got whenever he knew that the game was tilting in his favor - and the sad thing was, it nearly always tipped in his favor. Dean was going to do something about that... eventually.
Dean nearly bit off his tongue when a callous hand damn-near ripped open his slacks and slid down the front of his boxers, gripping his cock tightly and Dean would've sworn so fucking loudly had his teeth not clamped down on his bottom lip, stifling the noises attempting to claw their way up from his chest. He pressed himself flat against the desk, a vague attempt at trying to ground himself while a thought (that sounded suspiciously like Sam's voice) yelled 'Public place, public place, dammit Dean, you need to shut up' in his head.
Cas pumped him slow at first, taking his divine time in twisting his finger's around the hunter's cock, thumbing the slit and running down to cup his balls, outlining them with his digits like he was fucking judging the weight of them or some shit. Either way, it was driving Dean crazy. He could feel sweat beading at the back of his neck, wrists starting to ache where his hands were splayed flat against the desk. But he wasn't allowed to move them. Not yet, anyways - 'cause Cas was a sadistic bastard. In case you hadn't got that yet.
"It's your slacks, Dean..." Well that made no fucking sense in Dean's frenzied mind, "You look... appealing in them."
"...Aren't I always appealing?" Dean grinned, his moment of cockiness breaking off into a hitched breath when Cas sped up, fingers fast and relentless, making Dean's hips jut up into his hand at an alarming pace, "Fuck - Cas, Cas - oh shit...!"
Cas just kept on fucking going, his skin gliding wonderously hot lines of friction over Dean's cock, hand tight around him, pumping and pumping and Dean was on the brink before he even fucking knew it, legs quivering, throat sore from calling out -
And then it stopped.
It. Fucking. Stopped.
"Cassss..." He hissed between clenched teeth, trying to rut himself against the edge of the goddamn desk to find that last vital piece of friction - the last fucking piece to send him soaring into blissful oblivion - snarling out his frustration when the angel hooked his hands into the curves of his hipbones and pulled, preventing Dean from even trying to reach the mahogany with his cock, "Please Cas, I can't - I want - oh f-fuck..."
"I don't care what you want, boy," heat swept across Dean's skin at that particaular nickname, "I'll take what I want, as I want it."
Seems like the next thing Cas wanted was to tug both Dean's pants and boxers down around his ankles. Dean was perfectly okay with this.
His ass was left bare to the cool room of the office, bowed legs spread willingly, feet planted firmly in the floor. It felt kind of ridiculous, getting fucked with his shoes still on - then again, he was also wearing a shirt and blazer, complete with a fucking tie, so there was really no point complaining about it.
A kind of shocked gasp leapt out of his mouth when cold, slick fingers ghosted over his entrance, and he snapped a quick, "Jesus, Cas, warm those things up first!" over his shoulder at his angel, whose dominant persona shattered for a moment as he gruffed an "Apologies, Dean," back at the hunter. A smile curled Dean's mouth, chuckling like an idiot.
It soon shifted into a much more heated noise, however, when a single finger (much warmer now, thank God) breached him, slowly, an aching burn following the movement and causing Dean to buck back onto the digit, unable to keep his hands stationary any longer. He reached forwards, scrabbling desperately at the unforgiving expanse of mahogany before him, knocking a stack of papers onto the floor as he writhed.
"Cas..." He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes snapping wide open when another finger slid in, silently thanking God for giving angels lube-summoning abilities, "Cas - oh sh-shit!"
He nearly bit clean through skin when the angel crooked his fingers, hitting Dean's prostate in one smooth, practiced motion. His other hand came up slap Dean's ass again, making hunter groan and rock shamelessly, fucking himself on Cas' fingers.
"People will hear, Dean," Cas mocked, fingers crooking again - the desk rattled with how hard Dean thrashed upon it, "They're right outside -"
"Fucking hell, Cas, I don't care!" Dean came close to yelling that, but he'd given up on this thing called 'public decency' by now, "Just fuck me alread-y -"
The last word jarred, a third finger slipping into him, making stars pop behind his eyelids and his jaw go slack. The most unattractive sounds fell from his lips then - squeaky little whines that got louder with each thrust of the angel's fingers. But Cas seemed to be enjoying them. Judging by the subtle sound of skin slapping on skin he was enjoying them a lot, if you catch Dean's drift.
"That's...cheating..." He ground out, eyes squeezing shut as the pads of those damn talented fingers stimulated that spot inside of him, over and over again until he was so close that he couldn't see straight, "Y-you're not - oh fuck - playing fair, Cas..."
"This isn't about 'fair', Dean," Cas chuckled lowly - Dean's dick throbbed at the sound, "It's about winning."
Dean was on the verge of questioning what exactly they were trying to win here, but then Cas' fingers pulled out of him and the thick head of his cock was pushing in, in so hard that the only noise Dean could produce was a strangled "Nnng...!"
That sound would most definitely not be making it onto his most prideful moments list.
The drag of hot, slick, pulsing skin inside of him made Dean cry out, Cas' moan of pleasure behind him making the hunter fuck himself back onto the angel's cock wantonly, ignoring the burn it enticed - because, fucking hell, it was worth it. Cas shook with the effort of going slow, his hands running up over Dean's shoulders and snaking their way over his arms, fingers linking with the hunter's trembling ones.
"Dean..." Cas gasped into Dean's neck, rolling his hips in such a sinful way - he felt all the pleasure but none of the slide. Dean could've murdered him for it, had he not been already split wide on the angel's dick, "So tight - Dean I don't-"
"Cas, fucking go already."
Dean was so damn thankful that Cas listened when he got desperate.
The angel started pounding into him with abandon, grip on Dean's hands like iron as he made Dean bounce on the desk, the slap of sweaty skin and the rolling of hot bodies doing nothing but heightening the fire glowing in the pit of the hunter's stomach. Panting and gasping and begging for more - more friction, more force, more Cas -
He nearly screamed in protest when the angel pulled out, but he was slung around onto his back and fucked into again so fast he didn't even have time to breathe. So he wasn't complaining any time soon. Instead, he hooked his legs tightly around the angel's waist, willing him to go faster.
Cas loomed above him, throat flushed red (and probably his chest too - but there was a shirt in the way, so Dean couldn't exactly be sure) eyes hooded as his hands found purchase on Dean's shoulders, forcing the hunter down harder onto every single one of his thrusts. The hunter reached down, gripping his own cock as he watched Cas' lithe body ripple with every cant of his hips, his other hand brushing the angel's forearm, coaxing him to keep going because there was no way he'd stop now - Dean would fucking kill him if he did.
"C-mon Cas -" he pleaded, rolling his hips as his hand worked faster, his chest constricted against the tight buttons of his shirt, "Faster baby, please -"
It was his calling card - that little nickname drove Cas insane; and it always worked. He didn't know why - it just made something snap. Fire lit dark azure, elegant fingers digging into Dean's shoulders hard enough to draw a tight gasp from the hunter; Cas crouched over double, claiming Dean's neck viciously with his teeth, setting a pace that neither of them could keep up with.
"Cas!" Dean cried out, feeling his climax bubbling like boiling oil below the surface of his skin, electrifying ripples dancing across his scorching body, every ruthless snap of the angel's hips being felt in the back of his throat, "Fuck I can't - Cas please! Oh shit -"
"With me," Cas whispered against his neck, pressing frantic kisses inderneath his jaw, above his Adam's apple - damn, just about everywhere. The desk pounded against the floor, "Dean, with me - please..."
Dean nodded, hand running wildly through the damp hair on the back of Cas' head, tugging the angel's head up for one last dizzying kiss. The walls shook. Their skin smacked together. Pencils rattled to the ground. And then Dean's orgasm ripped through him faster than fucking lightning, heat spearing across his every nerve as his back arched, tightening his body like a bowstring, gasping Cas' name - whole name - into the angel's mouth. And Cas - fucking wonderful, wonderful angel he was - tumbled right down with him, groaning his release as he fucked into the hunter, straying so close to over-stimulation that Dean almost yelped.
The aftershocks rang through them, Cas' body limp and pliant and completely slumped (Dean totally didn't find that adorable or anything), head buried in the crook of Dean's neck, leaving a wandering trail of soft, slow kisses over the hunter's thumping pulse-point as their hearts slowed together. He didn't remember when the angel had started, but Cas was virtually purring as Dean ran his fingers through that ridiculously messy shock of black hair. He sighed happily, grinning against the damp skin of Dean's neck.
"Wear it again." Cas demanded after a minute or so, "Find another case after this one and wear it again."
Dean laughed, voice croaky.
"Have a thing for suits, huh feathers?"
Cas mulled over Dean's question for a moment.
"I have a... 'thing' for you in suits, Dean."
And well, that was just fine with Dean.
When Cas had mojoed them clean again, Dean couldn't help but notice the way people kept looking at him afterwards. It was only after they'd gotten back to the bunker did Dean realise Cas had left his hickey - his fucking hickey - splashed across Dean's throat, on display for all to see.
Cas threw smug grins at him for the rest of the evening. Dean was not amused.