It takes Dean two months to get up the courage to buy the plug.
For the first few weeks, Dean almost forgets about it. He and Cas spent that time christening every room in the bunker, including the garage, and trying just about every position that wasn't going to murder both of their backs. Or their knees. Or... yeah. They tried one tricky position that involved Cas being folded up like a pretzel (Dean has since been informed, loudly, that they are not doing that again) but Kevin, who almost never comes out of his room unless dragged away by the hair, chose that moment to wander into the storage room in search of some book or something. Dean is still snickering over that one. Kevin's scandalized expression was too awesome for Dean to be mortified at being caught.
The weeks have been filled with Dean discovering new things about himself, as well. Like the fact that he really likes bottoming, even though topping is just as much fun. Or that he can spend hours – literal hours – winding Cas up until he's breathless and begging, without ever once seeing to his own needs.
So maybe it's not just getting up the courage. Maybe it's also that he just plain forgot.
Yeah, Dean thinks as he grabs the package he's been considering for the last twenty minutes, even though he hasn't taken in a single detail about the damn thing. Forgot. He's going with that.
The too-skinny red-head watching the counter grins hugely when he throws the item down by the register. "Oooh, for you or your partner?"
Dean wants to tell her to shut up or roll his eyes, except instead he blurts out, "Partner." And huh, okay, that's the first time he's given Cas any kind of label. Part of him doesn't really want to, but another part kind of likes it. It hints at permanence, and that's not something Dean's ever had outside of Sammy.
The girl picks up the item and turns it, eyes darting over the description on the back. "Can I ask something more personal?"
"There's more personal?" Dean groans quietly, but ends up shrugging his consent. What the hell, it's not like he'll ever see this chick again. He hopes.
"Is this just for the bedroom, or are you guys trying something more kinky?" She says it so bluntly, like it isn't even that big of a deal, and it makes Dean feel a little bolder.
"Kinky," he says simply. "Um... he wants to wear it, you know... during the day."
Register-girl blinks once, and then asks, "So, does he have a sister that kinky? Because if so, I need her." She grins again, more than a little lasciviously, and Dean can't help the laugh that punches out of him. "New question, then. Do you want to tease him?"
That comment goes straight to the wrong head, and Dean curls his fingers into his palm and thinks of zombies to try and keep his dick down. "I do now," he mutters. Teasing Cas is one of his favorite things to do; hell, it's one of Cas's favorite things. Dean just hadn't thought of it for this situation.
With a knowing look that's either kind of alluring or just plain creepy, Dean can't decide which, the girl crooks a finger and walks around the counter. "Follow me."
Dean does, mostly because he suspects she knows a lot more about this than he does. She takes the plug and replaces it on the shelf, and then grabs a different one. It's slightly smaller, made of smooth black silicone, and it has a remote that makes Dean very curious.
"This." The girl holds up the new plug. "Goes from a very low vibration to a pretty damn high one. And you control it with the remote. The batteries last a really long time, but the downside is they're kinda expensive to replace."
Dean doesn't care. He nods with maybe just a little too much eagerness, and the next thing he knows he's climbing into the Impala, tossing into the passenger seat a sack containing the plug, and a weird kind of lube she'd insisted he try.
Dean doesn't tell Cas about it. He's kind of afraid he'll back out if he does. So he just waits until Cas is lying beneath him, eyes closed and breathing deeply after a very loud orgasm – he's gonna hear about that from Sam later, he just knows it – before he pulls out the lube and plug. He knows he's making a lot of noise, the bag crinkling and the plastic crunching as Dean tears it away from the toy, but Cas doesn't open his eyes.
As he works, Dean looks at the soft smile on Castiel's lips, the way his dark lashes fall across pale cheeks. He remembers the first time he thought Cas was beautiful, but he can't remember the moment when he couldn't stop thinking it.
Castiel is already slick with their usual lube, but the sleek, purple bottle in Dean's hand is supposed to be more than just slick. The girl insisted it did amazing things all by itself, so with a shrug Dean slathers the plug with it and slides it into place before any of his come can start leaking out of Cas.
"Oh!" Castiel's eyes fly wide open and he sucks in a sudden, startled breath. He pushes himself up on his elbows, craning his head down to try and see as the wide base of the plug is pushed flush against the curve of his ass. "I thought you forgot."
Dean opens his mouth to reply, but Castiel's eyes widen even further. His breathing, which was just beginning to even out, picks up again at an almost alarming rate. A soft, strangled cry is torn from his throat as he falls back against the pillows, hips churning with a renewed desperation that has Dean biting his knuckles to keep from ripping the plug out and fucking his angel all over again.
"W-what... what is that?" Castiel's blown blue eyes lock on Dean's. "It's tingling. And... oh, I don't know!"
"Is it bad?" Dean asks, hand already hovering towards the base of the plug in case Cas doesn't like it. He gets a wild shake of his angel's head, so he grins and lets his hand drop. "Good?"
"Yes." Castiel sucks in a huge breath, trying to calm himself. Then he stands so smoothly that, if Dean hadn't put it there himself – couldn't see it peeking out from between Cas's cheeks – he wouldn't have known that Cas was wearing the plug at all.
"You remember we're going out today, right?" Dean reminds him, because he needs to know Cas is all on board with this. Needs to make sure Cas knows what he's getting them both into.
"Yes. Clothes." Castiel nods. "I don't believe we need more clothing."
"You might not, you just got some." Dean watches Castiel slide a pair of black boxers on, then an old pair of ripped jeans Dean had given him. "But the last couple of hunts did a number on Sammy's and my clothes."
"Then why am I coming along?" Castiel turns as he pulls on a black t-shirt with a Metallica logo. That, too, is Dean's. Castiel has his own clothes, but they both like it when he wears Dean's clothing instead. It gives Dean a warm, almost possessive feeling, like his clothing is somehow marking Castiel up as his and his alone.
"Because you still haven't had pie," Dean says, as though this explains everything. Because it does. "And because you're part of the family now, remember? Only reason Kevin isn't coming is because I'm too nice to kick his door down."
Both of Castiel's eyebrows go up at that, and he stares until Dean caves and admits reluctantly, "Okay, so he sealed it with some kind of sigil. Kid's still scared to leave the bunker, you know?"
Dean's jeans, t-shirt, and jacket smack him in the face. He laughs as he paws them into his lap and sees Castiel grinning at him across the room as he bends to tie his tennis shoes. He bites his lip and shimmies just a little, and Dean barely bites back a groan when he realizes Castiel's feeling the plug more acutely in that position.
The hunter finds his boxers lying half way under the bed and fishes them out. He gets dressed slowly, giving Cas a reverse strip-tease and tossing ridiculous winks at the angel over his shoulder. Castiel just smiles and watches, pupils still blown wide and dark, but his expression maddeningly calm.
Castiel walking out into the bunker like it's just another normal day almost does Dean in. He watches his angel approach the table and sit across from Sam, who's probably been up for hours and is nursing a cup of coffee that stopped steaming some time ago.
"The walls in this place are not thick enough," Sam grumbles as Dean sits down beside Cas. "I'm about to ask Kevin to put a silencing spell or something on your room."
Dean chuckles. "You're just jealous because you're not gettin' any."
"You're right, it has nothing to do with the pornographic sounds my brother keeps making while I try to sleep. Or wake up. Or do anything, really," Sam snarks, but when he glances up from his coffee there's a hint of teasing in his hazel eyes. He tosses a reluctantly amused grin at Dean, and then suddenly glances towards Cas with a small frown. "Cas? You okay?"
Dean looks over just in time to see Cas stop grinding down against the chair. "I'm fine, Sam."
As soon as the younger hunter looks back down, the angel starts up again. Just a slow, rhythmic grinding into his seat, and Dean's jaw goes slack and his eyes zero in on the little circles Castiel's hips are making. This was supposed to be about teasing Cas, not the other way around! And yet here he is, looking perfectly composed and calm, while Dean tries to remember how his jaw functions.
The teasing continues right up until they're all walking out to the garage, effectively driving Dean insane. A plan forms in his mind, and he reaches out to put a hand on Cas's arm. Once he's sure Sam's out of earshot he leans over and murmurs, "I need you to come up with a safeword."
Castiel tilts his head questioningly. "A safeword?"
Dean nods. "That way if you want to stop, you just say it and whatever we're doing, we stop. So I don't accidentally take it too far, or if you just decide you don't like it anymore."
"I see." Castiel nods. "That's a good idea. Alright, my safeword will be bees."
"Bees?" Dean repeats.
"Yes. Just bees. If I use it in a sentence, then it is not the safeword."
Dean has a flashback to a very naked angel appearing on his car, crawling with honey bees. At the time he was annoyed, but now he looks back on the memory with a fuzzy kind of fondness he will never admit to out loud.
Sam is waiting impatiently by the car when they get there. Cas slides into the back without argument; he rarely gets the passenger side, mostly only when he goes into town with just one of them. It's not that Dean doesn't want him up there, he really does, it's just that's Sammy's side. It always has been.
Though the bunker is right on the edge of town, it's a good ten miles to the Wal-mart they're headed for. That gives Dean more than enough time to torture a certain fallen angel. He pats his pocket to make sure the remote is there, but doesn't turn it on yet.
They're rolling up out of the tunnel and onto the road when Cas starts grinding again. He waits until Sam is looking out the window, and then meets Dean's eyes in the rear-view mirror. He gyrates against the leather, expression still irritatingly composed as he drives Dean slowly insane.
And okay, that's it. Dean pulls out the remote just enough to hit the button that turns on the first vibration setting.
Dean sees it the second it kicks in. Castiel freezes, his mouth falling open and his eyes going wide. His next rub against the seat is more frantic, and Dean wonders a little wildly if the plug is long enough to touch his prostate.
Sam turns away from the window, and Castiel freezes. He relaxed posture is gone, replaced by a tightness in his limbs and a somewhat crazed look in his eyes. He's panting lightly, and when Sam glances back in concern a deep crimson floods in the angel's cheeks.
Dean bites the inside of his lip to keep from moaning. He's known the angel for years, and he's never seen him blush.
"You okay, Cas?" Sam asks, nothing but concern in his eyes as he twists over the seat to get a better look.
Dean punches the next setting and watches with a vicious kind of glee as Castiel's hands curl into fists in his lap. "I'm – mmm... I'm fine, Sam," Castiel manages with only the slightest hitch in his voice.
"You sure? You look kinda flushed." Sam actually reaches back and presses the back of his hand to Cas's forehead. "You're a bit warm. Dean, maybe we should take him back to the bunker, he might be getting sick."
This is too good. This is just too good. Dean bites until the pain distracts him from the need to laugh or moan or do anything else he really shouldn't, and then casts a glance in the mirror. "Cas? You want to go back?"
He waits to see if the safeword will be mouthed in his direction, but it isn't. "No, I'm alright," Castiel says smoothly, with only the slightest sigh in the end giving away his pleasure. "If the... condition... worsens, I'll let you know."
Dean nods, and knocks the setting back down to its lowest point. They have a ways to go yet, and he doesn't want this to be over too soon.
He leaves the plug on the same setting all the way into Wal-mart. It isn't until they're in the men's section looking for bargains that he cranks it up. He waits until Sam is standing right by Cas, inspecting the size on a pair of blue jeans, and then punches the button to raise the vibration four times.
A sharp yelp rips through the air, and Castiel pitches forward so hard he crashes into the display table and knocks several pairs of jeans to the floor. Dean watches him closely, waiting to see if he'll use his safeword. He doesn't. Instead, he tilts his flaming red face up to a confused Sam and stammers that he tripped, and Dean groans softly when he sees Cas's hips stuttering into nothing under the table.
He wonders when they decided Cas wasn't going to touch himself. Neither of them said it out loud that he can recall, but the fact that the angel is holding out like that is making Dean hotter than hellfire.
Dean knocks the vibe back down, but only by two. He watches Castiel walk towards him, legs stiff and pupils blown wide. He pretends to be looking at a t-shirt he has exactly zero interest in as Castiel presses right up against his side.
"I see now," he pants, "why you asked me to come up with a safeword."
"Want to use it?" Dean asks. He levels a completely serious look at Castiel, letting him know it really is okay.
"No," Castiel replies with a rapid shake of his head. He smiles and leans in, nipping at Dean's earlobe before withdrawing completely.
He's walking away, back towards Sam, when Dean cranks it up to six. The fact that it can go up another four settings is nothing short of crazy, and he's tempted to try it, only he can hear the damn thing from here at this level. Cas lets out a strangled sound somewhere between a groan and a hiss, fists clenching and relaxing without rhythm at his sides.
At this point in the game, Dean's really not happy with how tight his jeans are.
He turns the setting back down to three, which he can't hear and is still higher than it was before. Castiel's walking so stiffly now it would be funny, if Dean wasn't so fucking turned on. Sam, still clueless, puts a hand on Castiel's shoulder and asks him again if he's okay, and Castiel just nods curtly. He rips a random shirt off a rack and stalks towards the dressing room. Dean waits until Sam picks two pairs of jeans and starts wandering towards the t-shirt rack Dean has been pawing at sightlessly before he makes a beeline for Cas.
A quick check reveals the other stalls are empty, and the attendant is nowhere to be found. So Dean leans against the door of Cas's room and murmurs, "Cas? You're not touching yourself, are you?"
Both of Castiel's hands curl over the top of the door. Dean can hear him panting harshly, and he wonders if his hips are humping at nothing again. The image makes Dean close his eyes and force back a low whine.
"No," Castiel says. His voice is even rougher than usual, practically a growl. "I'm not."
"Good," Dean says, and then he rethinks it. They have a safeword. If Cas doesn't like it, he can let him know. "Good boy."
An obscenely loud moan rings in Dean's ears. A sharp crack follows, that Dean thinks may be Castiel's head slamming into the door.
"And you're not going to, right?" Dean continues, voice low and husky. He cranks the vibe back up to six and shivers violently when Castiel lets out a broken half-sob.
"Not until you tell me to," Castiel hisses. The fingers clenching the top of the door have gone white. Dean reaches up and brushes them with his own, and then they disappear and the door is yanked open. Castiel's hair is more mussed than usual, and the collar of his shirt is stretched from where he's clearly been tugging at it.
Dean can't resist. He wraps a hand around the back of Castiel's neck and pulls him into a kiss that's not nearly as frantic as he feels. He keeps it slow and soft, only just barely brushing his tongue over Castiel's parted lips before darting away again. Hands clutch at the lapels of his jacket, but Cas doesn't pull him closer. He holds still, or as still as his quivering limbs will allow, and lets Dean do whatever he likes to him.
Dean would be lying if he said that didn't turn him on so much it hurt.
Slowly, Dean pulls away, just enough to give Cas room to use his safeword if he wants to. He doesn't. He stares at Dean with eyes gone nearly black, his expression almost dazed. It's so different from the cool-as-a-cucumber routine he was pulling that morning that Dean can't help a small smirk of satisfaction.
"Bein' so good for me, Cas," Dean purrs, because Cas really seems to be getting into this praise thing, and Dean would be damned if he wasn't liking it just as much. "Gonna hold out a little while longer for me, aren't you?"
"Yes," Castiel whispers. He sounds just as dazed as he looks, almost trance-like.
Dean lifts a hand and strokes it through his angel's hair. "Good boy." He lowers the vibe back down to three, and leads Cas back out into the store.
Dean leaves the vibrations on that level through the rest of the shopping and all the way out to the Impala. He knocks it up to four when he starts his baby because the engine easily covers the sound. Castiel's face is burning again. Sweat is beading above his brow, but he manages to keep from clenching his hands and somehow regulates his breathing.
"Let's skip lunch, Dean," Sam suggests just as Dean is pulling into the parking lot of a diner he knows has awesome pie. "Look at him, he needs to go home."
"No, Sam, I'm fine." Castiel says it so smoothly that Dean can't help but be impressed. "I believe I'm just overheated."
"Diner should have air conditioning," Dean says casually as he steps out of the Impala.
There are only a few customers in the diner, and most of them are sitting at the counter. The three take a booth towards the back, and as soon as Castiel has settled Dean puts a hand on his knee under the table. His angel sucks in a nearly silent gasp, and then makes a show of looking over his menu even though Dean knows he's either going to get salad or some kind of healthy grilled chicken thing. He's just like Sam when it comes to food choices.
Which, Dean thinks as he glances over the dessert selection, is why Dean is so determined to corrupt him with the sugary goodness of pie.
There aren't enough people for conversation to be very loud, but the waitress has the music cranked pretty high. He chances turning the vibe up to six again. Castiel lets out a soft, breathy whine and hides it by faking a sneeze.
The waitress takes their order and brings the beers they ask for. Castiel is in the middle of downing his like a drowning man when Dean slides his hand up and into the curve of the angel's inner thigh. He presses his thumb into the crease of Cas's hip and just barely brushes the bulge straining so hard against the zipper of his jeans.
Sam happens to choose that moment to use the restroom, so he misses it when Castiel nearly spews beer all over the table.
Dean leans in close. His spare arm slides around Castiel's lower back as he puffs warm air across his angel's ear. He has Castiel trapped between the wall and his own body, and neither of them seem inclined to change that.
"You look so good like this, Cas," Dean whispers. "So fuckin' ready for me, aren't you?"
Castiel nods tightly. He turns towards Dean, tilting up his head in offering. Dean slides his tongue across his angel's bottom lip and immediately pulls away again, despite the screaming protest of his body. Castiel lets out something very close to a whimper and tilts his head back again, even further, lips parted in a seductive invitation that Dean is barely able to deny.
When Sam comes back to the table Dean leaves his arm around Castiel's back. Sam rolls his eyes fondly but doesn't comment.
The food has arrived and Castiel is picking distractedly at his salad when a pop song Dean doesn't recognize comes on. Completely disregarding the customers, the waitress cranks it up even louder than it already was. Normally, Dean would object. Loudly. Only it's just given him the perfect cover.
Dean grabs the remote and cranks it all the way up.
Castiel locks up. As far as Dean can tell, every muscle in Castiel's body goes rigid. His lips part as his eyes blow wider than they have all day. He looks frantically at Dean, gesturing with one hand below the table towards the restroom, and Dean takes pity on him and slips out of the booth so his angel can make a run for it.
"Okay, seriously, Dean," Sam barks, throwing down his fork and waving a hand in Castiel's direction. He actually sounds angry. "We need to take him home."
"He's fine," Dean says dismissively. "I'll go check on him, okay?"
He says it as indifferently as possible, even as his entire body tries to do the happy dance of joy at the prospect of finally touching Castiel properly.
The diner's restroom is just one room, no stalls. The door should be locked, but of course Cas knew that Dean would come for him. He makes a show of knocking for Sam's benefit, and then just strides right in and snaps the door shut behind him, throwing the lock and turning to face his angel.
Castiel is gripping the sink in both hands. He's bent partially over it, his legs spread and bent slightly, hips rolling frantically into empty air. The remote slips from Dean's suddenly limp hand and hits the ground with a clatter.
"Cas." Dean takes a step forward, two. He comes up beside Castiel but doesn't touch him, not yet. "Still being so good for me. Wonder how long you can take it without coming."
"Dean!" Castiel's voice is a wreck, half-sob, half-moan. His head rolls to the side against his chest, his huge gaze pleading desperately, hips still churning. "Please. Please let me come."
Dean nearly caves at that. As it is his knees start to shake and a groan punches its way out of him. "Not yet," he finds himself saying. He drops to his knees behind Cas and makes quick work of Castiel's fly, yanking both jeans and boxers down around his angel's knees. The base of the plug is shaking with the vibrations, and Dean reaches out and shoves his thumb against it in quick, hard presses. Castiel bucks back against him, keening low in his throat and scrabbling at the sink to keep himself upright.
"Please, please Dean, please," Castiel begs without shame, and Dean can't take it anymore. He pulls the plug out smoothly, tossing it aside because like hell he is taking the time to go back and get the remote to turn it off. Three fingers replace it, all at once because Dean knows Cas is stretched enough to take them. He reaches in and finds Castiel's prostate, working it mercilessly, drawing out cries that the customers can probably hear even over the loud music.
"Shh, Cas," Dean murmurs. He runs his free hand up and down his angel's spine, soothing. "Gotta be quiet for me. Gotta be a good boy for me, Cas, or you won't be allowed to come."
Dean can practically hear Castiel biting his lip, and the cries die down to soft whimpers. Dean pulls his fingers free and surges to his feet, hands flying down to tear his fly open. "Good boy," he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to Castiel's left shoulder blade. He reaches in and pulls his cock free of boxers and denim. Putting a hand on himself after going the whole afternoon trying to ignore his raging erection is a relief so sweet Dean can't help the whine that surges up from his throat. He steps up between Castiel's spread legs and rubs his cock between asscheeks still slick with lube. Slick enough for him to slide right in, pressing past the initial resistance and sinking deep into soft heat. Castiel chokes on what Dean suspects was another loud cry, and Dean doesn't do much better. He isn't going to last, they've been drawing this out too long. Dean grabs Castiel's hips and pounds into him, slamming him into the sink repeatedly, the loud slap of skin on skin echoing around the restroom. Castiel moans low and deep in his chest and arches back against Dean, trying to take more when there isn't any more for Dean to give.
"Dean," Castiel pants. "Dean, can I come now?"
Dean bites back another moan and reaches out to tangle a hand in Castiel's hair. He pulls his angel's head back enough to dive in for deep, sloppy kiss. He bites Castiel's lower lip as he pulls away, then brings his hand back down to his angel's hip and slams into him all the harder.
"Yeah," Dean grunts. "Yeah, Cas. You can come now."
Two more thrusts and Castiel comes untouched, hands still gripping the sink. His hips snap frantically back against Dean's as his orgasm races through him, his breaths harsh and loud as he tries so hard to hold back any sound, until finally he collapses forward, leaning heavily on the sink and going limp and pliant in Dean's hands.
Dean loses it then. Nonsense praise pours from his lips, how good Cas is, how gorgeous, and other things he doesn't think he'd ever say under normal circumstances, until one last plunge into the heat of Cas sends Dean over the edge. He lunges down to sink his teeth into the meat of Castiel's shoulder, muffling his own cry as he shakes his way through climax. His limbs promptly turn into wet, useless noodles, and the next thing he knows he's lying on his back on the dirty floor with Cas partially sprawled on top of him.
The plug is still vibrating away by the door. Dean looks at it and its buzzing journey across the tile and starts to laugh. Castiel's breathless huffs join in a second later, but neither makes a move to reach the remote for several minutes.
Finally, the plug is off and safely hidden away in Dean's coat pocket, and both men have straightened their clothes and cleaned themselves up. Castiel is staggering on limbs still too loose with satiation to walk properly, and Dean can't help but feel a little pride that he did that. Of course, he's not much better off, but that's just something for Cas to be proud of.
"That," Castiel says, and then he pauses, tilting his head as he looks for the right words. "Was fun," he finishes, and he grins widely, probably the widest grin Dean's seen on him yet. "We should go get pie."
Castiel takes Dean's hand and leads him back into the diner, and Dean thinks he's in love with his angel. They order blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream and spend the next twenty minutes arguing over the ratio of ice cream to pie, and ignoring Sam's looks of complete bewilderment at Castiel's strange recovery.
Dean keeps his revelation to himself. Now isn't the time.
END