A/N: This has been sitting in my computer for about 2 years. I go through these periods where I'll write and write and write 10 different things at one time and then I stop because ...well because my muse hates me mostly. I am aware that Dean doesn't actually curse this much in the show but I imagine he would were it not for the whole 'bleeping out' thing.
Hope you like it!
**I am rethinking the title btw. I just came up with something on the fly.
Ever Lovin',
WiseD
Disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Eric Kripke, Ben Edlund, Robert Singer, John Shiban, and Laurence Andries. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Pairing: Cas/Dean
Rating: Hard M (Really hard M). For sexual situations (Kinda) and really strong language.
He's been at this for what feels like fuckin' hours. And really, it's startin' to fuckin' hurt. Which only serves to piss him off and make him try harder and make him hurt more.
It's a vicious fucking circle of pain and anger and pain and anger and oh yeah let's not forget the small, little, tiny issue of the fact that he can't come.
Dean Winchester, orgasm extraordinaire, sex fucking god, can't. Fucking. Come.
"Dammit!" He yells at the top of his lungs and apparently it's loud enough to rouse Sam up out of his research haze because Dean hears a knock on the bathroom door over the roar of the shower and Sam's voice asking if he's ok.
No.
No he is not okay. He so far from okay he's on a different fucking planet. He's on a different fucking planet, in a different fucking solar system, in a different fucking universe, on a different fucking plane of existence. So, no he's not okay.
"'m fine Sammy." Is what he responds with though because he can't very well tell his baby brother that he's not okay because he hasn't had a freakin' orgasm in five fucking days.
Not since …well not since The Incident with Cas. And yeah …it's a big enough deal for him to use the word 'Incident' to describe it. Dean shudders under the water that has long since gone cold at a particular memory from The Incident and shoves it away. Thinking about that is the very last thing he needs to do.
He looks down at his five-day-hard dick and scowls. "I fucking hate you." He tells it and it just twitches in response. "Hate." He hisses again and twists the cold water knob on full blast, hoping that it will make his erection go away …at least a little.
Five minutes and one too many thoughts of Bobby in a freakin' speedo later, his dick is deflated, if just slightly. But with the way things have been going lately all it'll take is a warm breeze and he'll be giving anyone within a ten-foot radius a standing ovation.
"Dammit." He curses again and rips the shower curtain open so hard it tears. Somehow Dean manages to ignore the overwhelming urge to pull the entire curtain down just for the sake of destroying something. He wraps a towel around his hips and presses down on his crotch with the heel of his hand, which does absolutely nothing. He looks at himself in the mirror and points a finger at his own refection.
"Tonight …you're getting' laid." He says with confidence because even if his hand isn't doing the job a woman certainly will. His reflection, on the other hand, doesn't seem to agree, because even though Dean is pretty sure he's smiling, Mirror Dean doesn't return the gesture.
He doesn't take that as the bad omen he knows it to be.
Pissed doesn't even began to cover it.
Because she was fuckin' hot. Crazy hot and even though Dean put on a good fuckin' show the only thing that filled the condom he was wearing while fucking whatever her name was, was his spent dreams.
Dreams that he could come. Just once. Just one fucking time. But …no.
He's been through six different women in a three-day span and he's even starting to call himself a slut. But he's so desperate. So strung out and jittery and can'tstopmovingcan'tstopmoving it's ridiculous.
The girl -Amanda? Crystal? Jenny?- leaves in a flurry of giggles and perfume that makes Dean's nose itch, calling over her shoulder for Dean to 'call me' in a soft coo of a voice that makes him want to punch something. He doesn't even bother with a wave, just slams the door behind Giggles and collapse onto 'his' bed.
Eight days.
It's been eight days and he hasn't come.
And the thing is …the longest Dean has ever gone without an orgasm is twenty-four hours. Well …aside from his little stint in Hell. Other than that though, it's never been more than a day. In fact …it's usually twice a day. Even with all the hunting, all the killing demons and the ever looming apocalypse, Dean still gets his time alone with his dick and a copy of Busty Asian Beauties. Because, as weird as it sounds, he needs that; not just for the satisfaction that comes with a great orgasm but he needs it because it's the only sliver of normalcy in his life.
Which might make him sound a little gay but whatever. The idea of sounds 'a little gay' took a flying leap on the Empire State building after The Incident with Cas happened.
Dean bolts up in bed, Cas. This is Cas's fault.
He hasn't come since Cas and he …did …things.
"Cas!" He shouts, standing up and shoving a leg into his jeans. "Cas dammit!"
The dark haired Angel appears in front of Dean so suddenly, The Hunter squawks and would have fallen over if it hadn't been for Castiel reaching a hand out to catch his shoulder. Dean pretends it's the threat of almost falling flat on his face that causes a shiver to rock up his spine and not what it actually is; skin to skin contact with Cas.
Dean shrugs the hand off his shoulder and rights himself, finally managing to get his other leg in his jeans.
"Hello Dean." Castiel says and Dean shivers again. That voice. Even before The Incident, Dean noticed the deep rolling smokiness of Castiel's voice. And the thing is …it is actually Castiel's voice.
It's Jimmy's body. Jimmy's mouth and Jimmy's hair and Jimmy's skin but Jimmy never sounded like Cas does.
So Cas's voice …is all his own.
Dean breaks himself out of thought and glares at the Angel. "Don't you 'Hello Dean' me. What the fuck did you do to me?"
Cas just blinks those too blue eyes. "I've done nothing to you Dean. I just arrived. Unless you are referencing my arrival, I did not mean to frighten you."
Dean growls, "Your arrival isn't what I meant."
"Then I do not know what the fuck I did." And dammit, Dean wants to stay pissed but when Cas says shit like that, so innocently, like he doesn't know what 'fuck' means, Dean can't help but smile a little.
Then Dean remembers what the problem at hand is and is right back to scowling.
"You did something to me and I want to know what you did."
"What did I do?"
"You know what you did dammit! You did it!"
Castiel only blinks at him. "You should tell me what I did so that I may remedy it."
Dean works his mouth and looks around suspiciously even though he knows it's just him and Cas in the room. He looks down at himself and gestures to his crotch. "You broke it!"
Blue eyes follow down the line of his body and back up again. "I broke what?"
"My dick Cas, you broke my dick!"
Castiel looks confused for a moment. "Is this sarcasm again?"
"No Cas! As funny as a broken dick is, I'm not joking!"
"As I have not touched your 'dick' since we engaged in coitus I am unclear as to how I broke it."
How? How in the bleeding fucking hell can he say that so fucking nonchalantly? Maybe it's because he calls it coitus? Dean tries his hand at the word and still blushes. It's not like he's ashamed of sex …hell no. It's just …sex with Cas had been different. Dean refused, flat out refused, to think about why it was different.
"You broke it during …er after …that."
"That?"
Dammit.
"The sex Cas. After we fucked!"
Castiel just blinks at him. "Are you unable to urinate?"
Hell.
Dean sits on the bed with a thump. He's never gotten exhausted just talking to someone before. A big part of him really likes that he has to be so literal with Cas, Dean's not so good at subtly, but at this particular moment, when focusing on this particular subject …he really wishes Cas just got it.
"No man. I can piss."
"Then how is it-"
Dean focuses on the Angle's eyes which, like always, are watching him so carefully.
"I can't come Cas." And before he can ask 'what do you mean come', Dean holds up a hand. "Orgasm. I can't orgasm Cas."
"Oh." Castiel's shoulders shift under his coat and he sits next to Dean. "Perhaps you are doing something wrong?"
Dean slaps a hand to his forehead in exasperation. "Cas, seriously. I've been beatin' my meat for like seventeen years. I'm not doing anything wrong."
"Did you try pleasuring yourself anal-"
The Hunter can't let him finish that sentence. "Yes. Nothing."
The dark haired man considers this, "Have you tried coitus?"
"Yes Cas." Unexpectedly he feels the Angel stiffen next to him.
"And you did not orgasm?"
Dean shakes his head. "No Cas …I tried with six different women and nothin'." Something occurs to Dean and he freezes. "Did you turn me gay?! Do I have to fuck other dudes now-"
A hand clamps down on the same shoulder with Castiel's mark and Dean shudders. "No." It's one word, with no explanation but the finality in it just makes Dean nod his head.
Dean swallows audibly and leans his body to the side, slipping his arm out from under Cas's hand. "Alright. So then you explain why I can't come since it's your fault."
"Perhaps we should have sex again." The statement drops in the middle of the room like it weighs more than the Impala and Dean blanches.
"No. All kinds of no Cas."
The Angel looks adorably confused. "Why?"
Sputtering and red faced Dean opens his mouth. "B-because!"
"Because?" Cas prompts.
"Because we can't! We shouldn't have then and we aren't gonna now."
"I fail to see why we cannot. I had a …good time and judging by the unconscious state you were in for a few minutes afterward you had a good time."
A blush races to Dean's cheeks so quickly he feels a little lightheaded. "Cas. No." Castiel lifts an eyebrow but keeps his mouth closed. "Anyway …you need to undo whatever it is you did."
"Dean, aside from what you can plainly see, I did nothing to you."
"Well you must have done something!"
Cas shakes his head. "No. I did nothing."
Dean tangles his hands in his hair. "Then what is wrong with me?"
"Nothing. You are perfect."
Something about the way the Angel says that resounds in Dean but he ignores it. Cas is always sayin' weird shit. "Cas I can't come. That's a problem."
Silence settles over the pair and Dean just keeps rubbing his head, trying to wrack his brain for a reason why.
"Perhaps I could to giving you permission."
The idea is so fucking ridiculous Dean has to go over it three times in his head before he can even come up with a response. "What?"
"You have tried physical stimulation in all ways." Cas reasons. "And when we were engaged in …sex you orgasmed when I told you you could."
"That was a fluke." Dean tells him, dismissing the idea altogether.
"A fluke?"
Dean nods. "I was caught up in the moment."
"As you have dismissed the only ideas I can think of I fear we are at an impasse."
"That's it? That's all you got?"
Castiel inclines his head. "Yes. There are other issues at hand that I must attend to." And he's gone in a flutter of wings.
"Fuck."
