My apologies for the terrible wait and the terrible writing enclosed in this piece. I have a tremendous obsession with stripper!cas/dean and their interactions. This isn't very smutty, it's basically just a tease piece. A one-shot, also, unless my dears would like a second chapter of smutty delight. Of course, you'll have to let me know, since I'm working on about four pieces at the moment? So, reviews and such shall be necessary to get this writer's but in action. Anyway, cheerio, enjoy what you can, and thanks a bunch!~

Fallen Angel

Castiel was getting sick of this crap. He was working five nights a week, with three shows a shift, and, if that wasn't enough, he was working at the most popular club in all of Lawrence, Kansas. Hell's Angel's brought in a wide assortment of customers of both genders and all ages, which meant changing your attitude and body language towards your customers whenever someone new showed up on your list of clients.

Castiel was one of the most popular dancers at the club and he dealt with a lot of bad behavior throughout his work.

And, all of a sudden, his fabulous work and patience just wasn't good enough for his boss.

"I'm sorry, but if I'm only getting fucking paid for a lap dance, I'm not gonna let my client shove his fucking hands in my pants," Castiel shouted as he walked down the hallway backstage to his dressing room.

"That is no excuse for punching the old man in the face! And don't use such foul language with me!" Crowley shouted back as he followed the dancer, his gritty voice scratching against Castiel's tired ears.

"I can do whatever the Hell I want to do, Crowley. I work here by choice, you're welcome for that by the way, and I can walk out that door..." Castiel thrust his thumb at the exit door down the hall, "...whenever I want."

Crowley spluttered and Castiel simply smiled, twinkling his fingers before slamming the door to his dressing room in his boss' face.

The dark-haired man exhaled gently as he leaned against the door. It had already been such a long day, and he really didn't think he had the energy to do his final show.

There was a gentle rapping on his door before his best friend and dance partner, Balthazar, popped his head in around the door.

"Hey, Cassy baby, you doing okay?" Balthazar asked hesitantly as he stepped in and shut the door, leaning against it slightly.

Castiel sighed and smiled tiredly up at his companion. The English-accented gentleman always eased his mind and body, allowing him to finally relax a little so he could get some of the day's stress out of his system. "Yes, I am fine, Balthazar. Thank you for checking up on me," Castiel said in a soft voice.

Balthazar walked over to him and wrapped his arms around his neck as he gave him a large hug. "Everything will be okay, baby. Just this last dance then you can head home for your day off."

Castiel sighed gently at the idea of returning home to an empty bed one again. This was never the life he had wanted. He had not, however, expected his family to disown him and toss him to the curb upon the reveal of his sexuality on his nineteenth birthday. He had no choice but to find the easiest and fastest paying occupation in the town neighboring his home. He was simply lucky that he had already been a dancer before leaving home. His family consisted of a bunch of rich, religious men who invested in the arts, so when he was young, his mother had placed him in a ballet class and he had never given it up even after he got much older.

He had always wanted to meet someone whom he loved and who loved him in return that appreciated his kinks and his work, but that was difficult in his line of occupation. He knew that better than most.

He dressed quickly into his simple leather get-up for his final dance. This was one of his favorite acts because he had gotten to arrange it himself. He had picked one of his favorite songs and made the dance jerky and aggressive, just like himself. He thoroughly enjoyed performing it, and his audiences seemed to enjoy watching it just as much. He usually got amazing tips after performing the act, so he certainly wasn't doubting his strength as a performer.

Balthazar walked Castiel out of his room and to the edge of the stage in silence before softly patting his shoulder. "Go get 'em, angel," he whispered to him.

The announcer suddenly called out as two women walked off the stage past the two men. "Well, well, well, it's that time, ladies and gentlemen! The final stage act of the night! Please give a sultry welcome to our very own, Fallen Angel!"

Castiel strutted up the steps as the thumping bass of Boots and Boys by Ke$ha came blaring out of the speakers. A broad smirk spread across his lips and his hip jutted out, his hip bones protruding out from just above the small leather shorts that clung to his lower body. His leather clicked delightfully with the floor as his body bent and contorted into almost impossible positions, his hands passing down his torso to his hips to caress his large length through the confines of his shorts, dramatically throwing his head back. The dance continued smoothly, but Castiel could feel eyes locked on his face from halfway through his performance. Castiel had gotten used to eyes roaming his body but the feeling of eyes locking on to his face instead sent shock waves of pleasure through his entire frame. He couldn't lock onto those eyes or find the person they belonged to, but his body seemed to jerk towards wherever the stare was coming from.

Castiel heard the song about to end and he quickly drug his fingers through his already mussed locks before tugging his shorts down partially on the side with his free hand.

The crowd went up in applause, cat-calls and wolf-whistles echoing through the building while dollar bills were shoved into his leather shorts. He smirked in the direction of the audience then turned and flirtatiously walked off the stage.

Several other dancers congratulated Castiel on another spectacular dance before he quickly returned to his dressing room. He was achingly hard and breathing heavily while leaning against the door as he recalled the feeling of the eyes on his face while out on stage.

"Shit," Castiel mumbled as he chucked off his clothing and sat naked at his dresser. It had been ages since he'd had this feeling coursing through his veins. An unknown connection with someone who had seen him at work, yet he had never seen. Typical of his luck.

Castiel fiercely ignored the pain between his legs as he redressed in normal clothes to leave work. He pulled on small black briefs and tight dark blue jeans before tugging on a small black cardigan. He slipped his feet into black boots and grabbed his messenger bag and walked out the door. The back alley exit door stood slightly ajar and he could see a figure standing in a cloud of smoke. As Castiel walked out, he inhaled sharply, catching the delectable scent of nicotine and smiled to himself.

"Mind sharing, hon?" Castiel purred as he walked closer to the smoke. As the man looked up, Castiel shivered, the same feeling that he got on stage running down his spine.

Emerald green eyes with gentle hazel flecks rested upon his face, unblinking and shining in the dimly lit alley. Castiel almost stopped breathing as he stood, wide-eyed, staring back at the man whom he believed to be the same man from during his performance.

A sparkling white grin slid across full, plush lips as he stuck out his pack with a death stick extending towards him. Castiel shakily took the smoke in his fingers and yanked out his lighter quickly to light it at his lips.

"You're Castiel, aren't you? The 'Fallen Angel'?" the man asked in a gruff voice. Castiel took a long drag of the cigarette, looking away from Emerald Eyes for a moment before exhaling.

"Yeah. And you are?" Castiel glanced at the man as he spoke in his gravelly voice. Emerald eyes looked up at him, his lips parting slightly as he spoke and Castiel noticed his pupils dilate. A normal reaction to his voice when people heard him speak for the first time. Castiel looked like a fragile little boy, but spoke and behaved like the rough, dominant man that he really was.

"Dean. Dean Winchester," he replied, moving away from the wall that he had been leaning against. Castiel leaned his neck back slightly to look up at Dean in the dim light that he now stood in.

The man had cropped dirty blonde locks and a strong, muscular jaw. He wore a bulky brown leather jacket with a beige Henley underneath. His torn up blue jeans hung low on his hips and he wore big, brown combat boots. He was muscular, obviously fit and knew it; Castiel could tell by his bow-legged stance that emanated more confidence than he did on stage.

"Dean Winchester," Castiel tested on his tongue after exhaling once more. He then tossed down the butt of his finished cigarette and stomped it out before stepping forward into the warm heat of the man's body. "You seemed pretty interested in my performance back there, Dean Winchester."

Dean's fingers moved forward to dance lightly against his hip, sparks of beginning excitement running down Castiel's spine at the contact. "I was very interested. You certainly know how to work the stage," Den chuckled as he held Castiel's gaze.

Their bodies seemed to lean into each other and press together of their own accord, hearts pounding against ribcages simultaneously. Lips sought out one another and came together in desperate, lustful contact. Castiel's hands drifted up the muscular expanse of Dean's chest and neck while Dean's explored the length of Castiel's slim waist as their lips moved together in their passionate embrace. Things quickly got very warm around Castiel and he regretfully pulled his lips away from the smooth pair belonging to his gorgeous companion. After parting, their foreheads pressed gently together and their smokey breath intermingled in the cold, moist air.

"Dean Winchester," Castiel panted out as he locked his stare with emerald. "Are you going to take me home or not?"

Well, that was a shit fest. Anyway, if you would like to see this...thing turned into a smutty wonderland, leave a review or send me a message. Thanks!