Title: For One Night, And One Night Only
Author: HigherMagic
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~6,000
Spoilers: Castiel?
Summary: Dean doesn't even know why he does it – he honestly doesn't. All he knows is that he's more than a little lonely and more than a lot drunk, and he just needs a certain something tonight.
Notes: So, I was watching porn researching and I stumbled acrossthis video (gay threesome, very NSFW). It was originally going to be a Sam/Dean/Cas affair, but then earth_heart persuaded me to do Cas/Misha/Dean twincest kind of thing, but then I came up with a different idea. Hope you like it! :D While I was writing this, my mom was fawning over the cat. There was baby talk. It's not even our cat. *headdesk*
Unbeta'd. Too tired. Will correct mistakes I find later.
Dean doesn't even know why he does it – he honestly doesn't. All he knows is that he's more than a little lonely and more than a lot drunk, and he just needs a certain something tonight. Something that a woman can't give him, and it must have been Kismet or Fate or whoever else because he somehow finds himself, smashed out of his mind, in a gay club with dozens of guys who look fully capable of holding him down and fucking the living daylight out of him.
But he's not just going to fall into the sack (or the wall, or the bathroom cubicles) with any Tom, Dick or Harry that waltzes in. No, Dean's looking for something – someone special, who he knows will be able to rock his world and just own him for the night.
He knows immediately when he sees him.
He's lithe like a runner or swimmer, encased in tight, black clothing, but the way he walks lets Dean know that he's far from weak, and Dean shivers at the possibilities of all that unleashed strength on him. The man's eyes are the brightest blue he's ever seen, his hair the perfect length to knot his hands in, to manhandle him around. His lips are full, slightly chapped, but so obviously made to be put to good use. He's pretty enough to be a twink but powerful enough to be a top and Dean would fall to his knees right here and now and beg for the knowledge of which he is, but his pride and wavering balance holds him in place, just barely. He can already feel the tickling drag of that soft-looking hair along his spine as he imagines the man biting at his neck, mounting him and fucking him good.
Yes. He's definitely the one.
He's not sure how he should approach. The man looks around the room like he owns the fucking place, watching the room like a lion amongst gazelles as he sips at his drink. He catches blue-eyes give the giant guy standing next to him a smirk and say something, before the giant man scowls, jerking the smaller man forward by his wrist so they collide together, and Christ, the little guy's small against that massive bulk. Dean's hand clenches around his own empty glass, and he knows he's not being exactly subtle, eye-fucking the guy from the other side of the bar, but he can't even care for decency or delicacy because he needs someone on him like yesterday.
Watching on, Dean bites his lip when the small guy leans up and bites at the giant's mouth, fucking him dirtily with his tongue and in plain sight, and Dean stifles a groan, imagining that mouth, giving a voice to the body. Then the giant has the smaller man up in the air, easily lifting his weight, but blue-eyes just laughs and pushes him away.
Interesting.
He wouldn't have pegged him as the bottom type. Dean's lips curl into a smile, realizing he might just have the tools now to piss him off enough that he'd consider punishing him, good and right.
He sets his glass down when blue-eyes makes his way to the bathroom. It takes him by Dean's seat and, for a moment, their eyes meet. It's like if a classic romcom had taken a side road into the NC-17 territory, as those blue eyes become black almost instantly, pupils dilating in lust. He even slows his gait down, just for a moment, to look at Dean, who bites his lip, feeling his cheeks begin to burn from the hot flash of lust that surges up inside of him. Blue-eyes looks like he wants to eat Dean alive and, God help him, but Dean's alright with that.
He stumbles out of the chair pretty much as soon as the bathroom door closes behind blue-eyes. He knows he's not being subtle and honestly, he's not even trying to be. He can feel eyes on him as he just manages to make his way to the bathroom and shoves open the swinging door.
The bar is not the cleanest in the world and it's reflected in the bathroom. The thing is tiny, with barely enough room to stand and piss before you got knocked in the ass by the cubicle doors (which open outward, thank you genius who put those in) and instead of urinals there's just one long trough for everyone to piss in with a hole at the lower end.
Blue-eyes is standing there, doing his business, and Dean swallows, fighting back a little wave of dizziness because, in all honestly, he'd thought the door was heavier. Perhaps he shouldn't have drunken so much.
He shrugs. Can't do much about it now.
He can feel blue-eyes staring at him as he rights himself in front of the trough, and Dean hums, going through the motions of going to the bathroom when really, he's too hard to even attempt it. Instead, as a distraction, he says; "Wouldn't've pegged you for it."
The man gives a grunt, but Dean can feel his eyes on him, and blue-eyes' shoulders tense up. "What do you mean?" he replies, and wow, fuck. Dean's imagination had not given him that voice, but please sir can I have some more? Dean shivers, closing his eyes for a moment, and bites his lip to get control of himself. The blue-eyed man is standing very close, Dean can feel his body heat against the bare skin of his arm.
"Bottom," Dean replies, casting a cheerful smile the blue-eyed man's way. The stranger's eyes narrow at him and he finishes his business, beginning to put himself away. "Can see why, though," Dean notes with a suggestive nod downwards, making the guy stiffen again. "Can't ream a guy with that." He shrugs. "Probably better that you're the one to bend over and take it like a little bitch."
Dean swears he hears the other guy growl, and fuck that's hot. Before he can even think the blue-eyed guy has him slammed up against the door of a cubicle, his forearm pressed up against his throat. He's strong, stronger than Dean had thought, and he gasps, struggling a little before going lax, realizing that the guy isn't planning on taking it any further than that.
Shame. Wall sex is always fun.
"Be careful what you say, stranger," the other man purrs, leaning in close to Dean. He can smell liquor on his breath and it smells sweet, and Dean wonders what he was drinking. He wonders if blue-eyes will let him taste it firsthand. "Or I'll show you just how little like a bitch I am."
Fuck, yes, Dean thinks. This is exactly what he needs – there's no doubt that, with a little pushing, blue-eyes will happily shove Dean down to the ground and have his wicked way with him and Dean's perfectly alright with that. Might even get his friend around too and wouldn't that just be fantastic?
He can feel blue-eyes' hard-on against his thigh, and nope, there's nothin' wrong with that. He just barely resists the urge to fall to his knees and beg to suck it. Just barely – hey, there's no room for dignity in the game he's playing.
Something must show on his face, though, because the blue-eyed man smirks and shoves away from Dean. "Someone's a little slut," he says, almost too softly for Dean to hear, and then he turns and washes his hands, exiting the bathroom. Dean smirks, knowing that he's in for it now, and follows out a moment later.
Blue-eyes is talking to his giant friend and they both stop when Dean leaves the bathroom. Blue-eyes nudges the giant's shoulder and jerks his head towards Dean and then advances on him, the giant remaining by the bar with the smirk of someone who knows they're about to get a good show, and the predatory light in those blue eyes damn near makes Dean's legs give out on him. He's gonna get it good and he's not even trying to make it look like he's gonna fight back.
"You'll never guess what this little bitch said to me," blue-eyes singsongs, plastering himself to Dean's flank without touching, one hand shooting across Dean when he backs against the bathroom door, so the only way out is back through the bathrooms.
"Oh yeah?" the giant asks, smirking a little.
Blue-eyes nods. "Been talking a little big for himself, I think." His voice is a low, predatory purr, and Dean swallows back the excess saliva that's gathering in his mouth, just thinking of…fuck, of doing anything with this guy.
"What're ya gonna do about it?" he asks, his accent slurring through the amount of alcohol and bravado he's putting on.
He watches those blue eyes darken, and the man takes another step forward. Dean has nowhere to run and he loves it. "I," blue-eyes stresses, "am gonna beat your ass."
A full-body shudder runs through Dean, because hell yes, that sounds like a plan. Before he can even think blue-eyes has lunged for him, grabbing him by the arm and the shoulders and, somehow, managing to slam him down face first on one of the nearby pool tables. Dean notes, in the back of his mind that's currently not overrun with oh fuck yes sir do that again so hot damn it, that the other guys in the bar have scattered, either leaving, or staying on the outskirts to watch the show.
A dirty little thrill runs through Dean, but he puts up a bit of a fight because it feels really good, having all that hidden strength holding him down. Dean's by no means small but the alcohol has made him needy and pliant and blue-eyes is a helluva lot stronger than he looks and he can hold Dean down with ease, and that's slamming down hard on a kink button he didn't even realize he had.
"Fuck," Dean growls, hands flying out and bracing himself at the side pockets of the pool table while blue-eyes' hands explore, lazy and possessive, down his flanks and over his stomach in teasing, pressing little touches that do absolutely nothing for his need but about a thousand for his want. "Fuck, just do it already!" he groans, his forehead landing against the scratchy green of the pool table.
He hears blue-eyes' dark, raspy chuckle, and Dean totally doesn't thrust his hips back at that. Nope. "Someone's a needy little slut," he whispers, and then Dean bites back a whimper when he feels the guy practically mount him, his slim, cut hips lining up so perfectly with the swell of Dean's ass that they could fuck right now if there weren't so many fucking clothes, damn it. Blue-eyes' hand settles, warm and rough, on the jut of Dean's hip, cupping it and using that hold to pull Dean back more firmly against him. "What's your name, green-eyes?" he growls, leaning down at mouthing at the knob at the top of Dean's spine, making the younger man whine and clench his eyes tightly shut, a full body shudder running through him. His spine is super sensitive.
"D-Dean," he grits out, nails digging into the soft leather around the pockets. His hips rock back when blue-eyes' tongue trails, hot and wet, across his nape. It feels like he's being branded without leaving a mark. "What's yours?" he just manages to gasp.
The other man chuckles again. "That's not the game here, pretty boy. You haven't earned it," he whispers.
Dean totally doesn't whimper at that – at the thought of earning anything, or playing anything. No, he doesn't. Not at all. And he certainly doesn't roll over and beg when blue-eyes' hips rock forward again, shoving the hard line of his cock against the back of Dean's thigh. The man feels like a fucking machine – there's not an ounce of spare fat on him. Everything he is, is pure, solid muscle, and that's possibly the hottest fucking thing Dean's thought this whole damn night.
Still, he wants it – there's too much talking and not enough action going on here, even though Dean feels about three seconds and a good word or two from falling apart at the seams, held together by the stranger's capable, strong hands. "Gonna want something to scream later on, blue-eyes," he whispers, turning his head to one side and flashing a grin up to the other man. He knows it's cheesy, that line, but he just can't give a damn.
Not when blue-eyes' upper lip curls back, revealing white teeth and the tips of his canines. Not when his hair is in such delicious disarray. Not when his eyes are so fucking blue, God, they glow.
Still, he doesn't miss a beat. Dean's comment makes him smirk. "I think that pretty mouth of yours will be too busy stuffed full of my cock to say much of anything," he growls out and Dean's eyes practically roll back in his head.
"Fuck," he snarls, bracing himself again and rolling his hips back, practically begging without words for this guy to fuck him, do something, please damn it. "Outside. Take me outside." Because Dean might be many things, but an exhibitionist (if anyone's still watching; Dean's vision has gone a little fuzzy around the edges and he can't quite tell) isn't one of them.
"Hmm." The hand not cupping Dean's hip slowly runs up his flank, taking parts of Dean's t-shirt with it and hitching it up so that parts of Dean's tanned torso is exposed to the air of the room, and Dean shivers, because it feels cold against his burning-hot skin. Blue-eyes reaches Dean's shoulder, and then his long, slender hand curves around the front of Dean's neck and hauls him up so his back collides with blue-eyes' chest. The hold would normally set off alarm bells in Dean's head, but he's too strung out and too damn needy to care. As long as he gets fucked he doesn't even care anymore. "Maybe I should keep you here," the man growls, his warm, sweet-smelling breath ghosting over Dean's neck, and the younger man shivers, baring his throat to the caress of air. "So they can all see just who the bitch really is." He bites out the word and Dean's knees damn near give out on him.
"Please," he whispers. God, he doesn't even care anymore. He reaches behind him and grabs a handful of that thick, artfully messy hair, twisting it in his tight grip and it makes blue-eyes growl, hips surging forward and slamming Dean back down onto the pool table.
The older man's breath is hot and fast against his neck when he growls; "I'm going to go have a drink with some of my buddies over there. Go out to the alley behind this dump, take off your shirt and get to your knees. I don't want to have to wait." He then shoves Dean's head down again, holding him there just to show that he can, before he gets up and leaves Dean, aching and wanting, panting hard against the pool table. He laughs and Dean jolts when he feels a hard smack on his ass. "Get goin', pretty boy." There's enough of a veiled threat there, mixed with that weird twang of an accent, that Dean's knees pretty much go fucking weak as he stumbles out of the bar, in a hurry to obey.
He can feel eyes on him as he makes his way to the door, appreciative or amused at the Alpha display of the blue-eyed man at the bar. They don't know if they're together and frankly they don't care – after something like that, no man will touch Dean aside from blue-eyes and, fuck, Dean's okay with that.
His cheeks are flaming in a mix of the alcohol-flush, arousal and a little bit of embarrassment. Even at his neediest Dean's never been like this; never so willingly obeyed when he's not being 'forced' to. Rightfully, he could just walk away right now, but they both know he won't, and it's that kind of control that makes Dean's hard cock pulse.
"God," he growls to himself, stepping out into the chilly night air. Immediately goose bumps rise on his arms, he can feel his nipples tighten and pebble, but he hurries to obey blue-eyes' words, pulling his shirt over his head and leaving it on the railing that is on the three steps leading to the loading door at the back. Despite the seedy area and the downright disgusting bathrooms, the alleyway is pretty decent. At least, Dean doesn't feel like he's going to catch herpes from the floor, which is always a plus.
It's drizzling a little and Dean shivers when he feels the cold drops sticking to his skin, and folds his arms over his chest protectively, sinking to his knees obediently in the driest part of the alleyway, under a small awning that looks like it used to belong to a café or something before this place became a bar, and he settles down to wait.
Blue-eyes' leaves the bar almost a full fifteen minutes later, and bares a manic little smile Dean's way when he sees him, still on his knees and waiting, having completed the instructions. A dark shiver runs down Dean's spine at the look on blue-eyes' face, watching the blue slowly being taken over by the black pupil as lust clouds his gaze.
He walks forward and Dean leans back a little as he presses closer. Dean can smell the heady musk and arousal because his face is hovering exactly near the business end of this night and he swallows, his mouth watering. One of blue-eyes' strong, slender hands reaches down and fists in his hair, yanking his gaze up. He can't help the involuntary whimper that he lets out at that.
Blue-eyes watches him for a long moment, gaze calculating and burning hot and Dean feels himself flush despite the chill of the night, and how his breath is misting slightly in front of him. "Open your mouth," blue-eyes commands and Dean does so without hesitation. "Keep it open." Then, he lets Dean's head go and instead fumbles for the zip and button of his jeans, opening them up just enough to free his cock.
Dean had gotten a glimpse of it in the bathroom, but fuck, now, it's flushed, burning hot and pulsing with arousal and it's pretty damn big. Dean'll feel it tomorrow, and he wants it, God, he wants it right the fuck now. He whines and lunges forward before he can think, sealing his lips around the head.
Blue-eyes chokes on a laugh, leaning forward so he can brace his hands against the cold, rough wall of the building, and thrusts forward, deeper into Dean's mouth, making him take it. One hand cups the back of the younger man's head and forces him further down, until Dean's throat is relaxing and fluttering gently around the head, his lips doing their damnedest to touch the crisp black hairs at the base.
"Someone's an eager little slut," blue-eyes murmurs in that raspy growl of his, slurring now because of drink and lust and even lower than before. It makes Dean shiver, his eyes falling closed when blue-eyes' other hand begins to wander, starting up a steady pace, thrusting into Dean's mouth smoothly before withdrawing and going in again. He traces the side of Dean's face, pressing on his cheek to feel the slide of his cock in and out of Dean's mouth, and then further down, petting and stroking the line of his neck. He must have a thing for Dean's neck because his touch lingers there, nails digging into Dean's flying pulse with every press of his hips, every bump of the head of his cock to the back of Dean's throat.
"Yeah," he growls, rocking his hips forward a little more and following Dean when the younger man leans back, not expecting the deep thrust. It probably says something about him that Dean moans for the fact that blue-eyes doesn't let him go; chases him and makes him take all of his cock until his spit-slicked lips touch the crisp hairs at the base of his cock. Dean gags, muscles fluttering wildly around the thick, fat cock in his mouth, but he still whines when blue-eyes withdraws, one hand knotted in the hair on the back of Dean's head to keep him steady. "Such a whore for a thick cock, aren't ya, boy?"
Boy. Shit. Dean shudders, eyelids fluttering slightly because, fuck, the way he bites out that word – like he's taking a chunk of flesh with it. It's about the hottest fucking thing in the world. He feels the blunt press of the head of blue-eyes' cock against his lips again, and his tongue snakes out, pressing into the slit just to hear the older man hiss before letting it sink into the wet warmth of his mouth. Blue-eyes moans, his hips bucking forward, and Dean takes it just because he has no other choice, because the other man's hand is warm and strong on the back of his head and he can't back away even if he wanted to.
It's been too long, Dean thinks dazedly, as blue-eyes starts up a slow, punishing rhythm inside of his mouth, making him gag on every other thrust. The casual ownership of the act; the way blue-eyes keeps making him just take it, is enough to have Dean panting, pressing the heel of his hand against his cock to stop himself coming, to try and tamp down the slow burn of pleasure that's inching its way up his spine. Too fucking long.
The guy's too in control for his liking; his breathing isn't nearly as ragged as Dean's is, and though his eyes are blown and wild, he isn't lost to the pleasure yet – he has yet to really let loose, to unleash all the concealed strength in that runner's body and Dean wants, more than anything, to make him snap. He sucks in earnest, his jaw cramping up a little at the pressure he's maintaining, and pushes at the head of his cock with his tongue until it's sitting at the front of his mouth, so that he can concentrate on the sensitive bundle of nerves and the swollen head. Blue-eyes snarls at him, baring his teeth as his hand fists more tightly in Dean's hair, to the point of pain.
"Fucking hell," he growls, and Dean can't help but moan in agreement, eyes closing again at the spurt of precome that the action brings him. He laps it up like a faithful dog, eager for more of blue-eyes' bitter-salt taste, wanting to see this man shudder for him.
With a growl, blue-eyes yanks Dean's head away from his cock, panting, his shoulders heaving and the low light from the streets just managing to glint off the shine of his tight clothes. All he's got free is his cock while Dean's shirtless and probably about to get a lot more naked, and despite the chill of the night the clear difference in dominance is enough to warm him up enough to feel like he's burning. Blue-eyes hauls him to his feet and Dean goes, though he stumbles a little. The wet, cold ground has seeped into his knees and dirtied his jeans, but then blue-eyes' mouth is on his and that doesn't seem to matter anymore.
Dean flattens his palms against the dirty brick wall, letting blue-eyes slam him back and spreading his legs in a blatant invitation. He's so hard; he wants to get fucked so badly, he doesn't even care anymore, and the guy's mouth is so soft and hot and his tongue is doing things inside of Dean's mouth; he kisses like he owns, without a doubt, every cell of Dean's being set to vibrate and humming happily under the onslaught.
One of blue-eyes' hands is still in his hair, the other flattened to the smooth, bare skin of Dean's chest, over his anti-possession tattoo. If the other man is curious about it, he doesn't ask; his long, slender fingers expertly find one of Dean's nipples, pebbled from cold and arousal, and flicks it experimentally, making Dean shiver and moan. He does it again, and again, his grip getting just on this side of painful before he stops, and flattens his palm over the burning patch of skin. Dean's shivering in front of him, trapped between the cold, unforgiving wall and the hot, unforgiving man, and all he can think is fuck yes more give me more don't stop please damn it so hot -.
"Turn around, Dean," blue-eyes commands, his voice low and gravelly like he's just been the one getting his mouth fucked, and Dean whines, head lolling back and baring his throat before he hurries to obey, parting eye contact with a slow roll of his hips and a dip of his shoulders. "So fucking pretty…"
Dean chuckles, alcohol and lust burning low in his gut, and he dips his back, pushing his hips back and out against blue-eyes', and it feels so fucking good, feeling the hot, thick line of the other man's cock against the inside of his thigh. Dean flattens his hands to the walls again, letting the muscles in his back shift and contract, putting on a bit of a show because, well, why not?
"Condom and lube in the back pocket," he just has the cognitive process to bite out, earning another low, dark laugh from the stranger behind him. He can feel blue-eyes' gaze on him, steely and dark, before suddenly there's hands, too, and a body that slots almost perfectly behind his. One hand slides along the waistband of his jeans, then moves down to cup and squeeze his ass. Dean shifts, sucking in a breath, and shudders again when he hears that dark laughter once more, blue-eyes finding and taking out the lube and condom from Dean's pocket.
"Planned this, then, boy?" he rasps out, the scruff on his jaw scraping along the back of Dean's neck, and Dean feels like he's getting mounted again, able to feel the lines of leather and denim of blue-eyes' clothes against the bare skin of his back and, now that blue-eyes has freed him, his ass. The cold air hits more of his skin, his exposed cock and clenching, eager hole, and he shudders from a combination of sudden chill and sudden heat. "Thought you'd come up to me, all cock and swagger, and see if you could get me to show you your place?"
Dean shudders, biting his kiss-swollen lips, and doesn't respond, because they both know the answer.
The man laughs again and Dean sucks in a breath when he hears the bottle of lube being uncapped, and squirted into the man's fingers. "Well, I guess you got what you wanted, didn't ya?"
"Fuck," Dean growls, when he feels the still-cold lube pressing against his skin. Bastard didn't even bother to warm it up, but fuck, the fact that he doesn't even seem to care, presses all kind of buttons and Dean can't help how he pushes back against the touch, his legs spreading as far as he can get them, hobbled as he is. "Get the fuck on with it, already."
"Patience, boy," the man warns, but then he's pushing in with one finger, all the way in, and Dean doesn't get time to relax or adjust before he's twisting it, stretching Dean open ruthlessly. It feels fucking amazing, having those long, powerful fingers inside of him, slicked with lube and Dean's already starting to shake, feeling the sharp fire of his orgasm starting to build, low in his gut. "Fuck, look at you." Dean's writhing, fucking himself back onto the single finger because he wants it so bad, he needs it, and he can't even care because the alcohol has wiped away what few inhibitions he would have had in the first place. "Like a Goddamned bitch in heat." Another hand, this one dry and burning hot, settles on the back of Dean's neck and suddenly there are two fingers inside of Dean, stretching him further. "My little bitch."
Dean moans, his cock throbbing between his legs, and how badly he wants to reach down and touch himself but he can't, because that's not the game they're playing. When blue-eyes touches a spot inside of him that makes him fucking light up, Dean tenses, his ass clenching unbearably tightly around the man, entire body taught like a strung bow.
"Fuck," blue-eyes growls again, and Dean gives a soft, needy whine when he feels the fingers withdraw, but then there's the unmistakable sound of a condom packet being opened and then rolled on, the lube-slick hand no doubt transferring what's left onto blue-eyes' cock, and Dean takes a moment to admire the fact that the man did all that without taking his other hand away from the restraining hold on Dean's neck. "Gonna fuck you now, boy, and you're gonna take it. Take it because you need it, don't ya?"
OhmothermayI? "Please," Dean groans, so not above begging now, his shoulders sagging, pressing the side of his face against the brick wall and pushing his hips out more insistently. "Please, fuck me. Need you to fuck me."
"Slut," blue-eyes growls, spitting and Dean whines when he feels the thick glob of saliva land between his cheeks, smeared around his hole by blue-eyes' fingers, before suddenly there's pressure. Pressure and heat, and fuck yes, this is what he's been waiting for. Dean presses back immediately, stifling a soft, desperate noise behind clenched teeth and jaw, his eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of the latex-covered flesh shoving into him slowly, splitting him open.
That's one thing Dean regrets about the constant one night stands. He thinks the feeling of an actual cock inside of him, without the barrier of a condom, would fucking ruin him.
Not that he's not one step away from being done right now. He's shaking worse than before, feels like he has a fever because he's burning up so much – he needs so badly, and blue-eyes isn't moving. Fuck, why isn't he moving?
"Come on, damn it," he grits out, rocking his hips back as the man's free hand flies to his hip, keeping him still.
"My way, boy," he bites back, and Dean feels his rough exhale against the back of his neck, hand shifting just a little so he can mouth and nip at the top knob of Dean's spine, and Dean's just done. It only takes one thrust – one meager little rutting motion of blue-eyes' hips, for the man to find his prostate again, and Dean locks up and comes like a fucking teenager. He can hear the man's guttural moan as he tightens up even more, but blue-eyes seems to have no problem fucking him through his orgasm and then even more, when he's loose and pliant and relaxed, his body so sensitive that every jarring thrust inside of him is more pain than pleasure but fuck, Dean just can't care, because it hurts so good.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" He's panting, bracing himself with shaking arms against the brick wall as blue-eyes continually slams into him, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin and their ragged breathing the only noise in the otherwise quiet alley. One of blue-eyes' hands moves, fisting Dean's limp cock and the man hisses, shying away from it, against the older man's body. "Fuck, don't, damn it." He's coaxing Dean to rise again, which is just insane because Dean's not a fucking teenager anymore, but his body seems to be in disagreement because his cock is twitching, slowly filling with blood all over again and blue-eyes keeps hitting his prostate. Dean's body feels like a live wire with no grounding, just waiting to explode in a shower of sparks because, God…
Blue-eyes growls into his ear, bites out a low "Fuck", and then suddenly his teeth sink into Dean's flesh, the meaty part of where shoulder and neck meet. Dean shouts, pain flashing white-hot behind his eyes and it's enough to send him over the edge again. Not much comes out and the orgasm feels more painful than anything else, Dean's body twinging with aftershocks as blue-eyes continues to fuck him, letting Dean's spasming body milk and wring every last ounce of pleasure from him as he fucks into Dean, filling up the condom, until his cock is too soft to stay inside.
Dean collapses against the brick wall when blue-eyes pulls out, removing the condom and throwing it away somewhere. Dean doesn't care. Hell, he doesn't even really remember his last name right now and he's pretty alright with that.
Then, blue-eyes is back, his hands landing on Dean's oversensitive body and running down to Dean's soft cock. "Ah, shit," Dean bites out, batting blue-eyes' hand away. "Damn it, Cas, don't do that."
"My apologies, Dean," comes the solemn reply, the Angel slotting himself easily against his lover's side. He instead places his hand on Dean's stomach and Dean smiles when he feels the warm glowy feeling that means the Angel's using his Grace to clean him up and ease the aches of his body, as well as the influence of alcohol so his head's a little clearer. The Hunter blinks open dazed green eyes and his smile grows at the serious eyes of his Angel looking back at him.
"So," he says, trying for casual but unsure how well he succeeds, with his jeans down around his thighs and lube leaking out of him, "how did you like that?"
The Angel pauses. "It was novel," he finally says, cocking his head to one side. "But I enjoyed it. It was…interesting. To take on another persona. To engage in the excitement of a one night stand without actually doing it." He nods, seemingly pleased with that answer, and Dean can't help but laugh and tug the Angel closer, sealing their lips together for a chaste, sweet kiss, completely belying what they'd just done together.
"Knew you'd like it," Dean whispers against the Angel's full lips, grin fully out in victory, triumph in his eyes, and the Angel smiles indulgently and nods his head, rolling bright blue eyes at his mate. "I think I know something else you might like," he adds, raising an eyebrow in challenge as he straightens up, pulling his jeans back on fully and absently grabbing for his shirt, shrugging it on.
"Oh?" Castiel asks, and Dean smiles when he hears the Angel's thinly-veiled curiosity. In truth, although the sex-with-Dean part is a bonus, Dean knows that Castiel is honestly intrigued in common human practices, and slowly he's been encouraging Castiel to partake in them; eating, sleeping. Hell, even washing the Impala by hand instead of Angel-mojo, and teaching Castiel how to fix her up and drive her. The Angel is curious and wants to learn and Dean's never been called a bad teacher.
"Yeah." Dean grins, knowing he has his Angel interested, and slings an arm over Castiel's shoulder, pulling him out of the alleyway and back towards the car. "You see, sometimes humans like to use certain things, like ropes or handcuffs…"
Castiel's eyes light up in understanding, and Dean grins, bracing himself for yet another wild night. Because Castiel is quite literally shameless, simply because he has no idea how to be anything else, and Dean's got all the time in the world to teach him, and Castiel is curious enough to try anything once.
"To, you know, tie each other up and stuff…"
"I understand, Dean," Castiel says softly, and he has this glint in his eye, like 'blue-eyes' back from the bar, and Dean feels a warm shiver shoot down his spine and settle low in his gut. Yeah, the next few weeks (years, lifetimes) are going to be, quite simply, awesome.