Author's note: Warning - brief, indirect talk about bodily functions.
Confusion Abounds
"Dean, we should discuss consummation."
The blonde's eyes widened and he looked around at the other patrons in the bar. The bar was packed, despite it being off the beaten path; drunken twenty-somethings were crowded around the jukebox or dancing in groups. He couldn't believe Sam wanted to meet him here. "Not now, Cas. Wait 'til we get back to the hotel."
Cas nodded, but looked displeased as he sipped his beer. Just then, a svelte woman with thick, wavy hair and sharply winged eyeliner sauntered up to their table. "Hey, cutie," she greeted, smiling at Cas, with her back to Dean. "I'm Dana. Wanna dance?" She flipped her long, black hair over her shoulder, and leaned down to him, winking. He was tempted: Dana's blue dress was tight and low-cut, and offset her dark skin well. He licked his lips nervously, which she took as a sign of interest. She wrapped a hand around his, and squeezed.
"I'm sorry, I'm taken," he replied; Dean looked up from his phone, and smirked.
"Come on baby, I'm sure she won't mind …" She got up close, and Castiel could smell the tequila on her breath.
Cas cleared his throat: "Yeah, but he might," he retorted, pointing a finger at Dean's face. She took a second to look Dean up and down, scoffed and walked away. Dean to let out a low chuckle, and shook his beer bottle, noticing it was empty. Cas smiled and drained his beer.
"I'll get you another," Dean offered, and strode over to the bar. He found an empty spot near a short redhead with glossy pink lips and large hazel eyes. His eyes caught hers for a moment in the mirror above the bar, and he grinned in spite of himself: although the fake eyelashes might have been a bit much, the way her tank top clung to her frame and short pleated skirt left almost nothing to the imagination made the blonde feel hot under the collar. Just then, the bartender popped up, and he gave his order. When the man moved, the redhead's gaze was still on the mirror, her hand absently playing with one of the pink straps on her shirt: she flashed him a flirty, buy-me-a-drink smile. She sat up on the stool, her cleavage heaving.
He grabbed the beers and as he turned to leave, she asked in a high voice, "Going so soon?"
He smirked at her, the momentary spell broken: "Sorry toots – I'm already here with someone." He waved to Cas, who waved back.
"Your loss," she retorted, and turned away from him. He went back to their table, where they waited for Sam to show.
"Now that we have privacy, I would like to return to our previous conversation," Castiel began.
"How many times do I have to tell you? It doesn't matter if we sleep in the same bed at night – you don't change the station when I'm pumping gas."
He gave a little huff of exasperation: "No, not that. I meant consummation." Dean could feel his ears beginning to turn red, but he tried his best to keep a neutral expression.
"What's to talk about? Shouldn't we just go with the flow?" If he was honest with himself, he was surprised Cas was already thinking about sex. It had only been a few weeks.
"Dean … do you know what to do?"
"I mean, I've never done it, but it seems pretty self-explanatory. Use lube, and insert tab A into slot B." Jeez, if he was feeling so on-the-spot and embarrassed just talking about it, how was he going to do it?
"Your explanation leaves something to be desired. We need to research this… I- I'm not comfortable." Cas' eyes became nearly apologetic.
Dean's expression turned serious, and he pulled an old laptop out of his nightstand. "All right, all right. Guess it's time for us to watch some porn."
Dean popped into the den, and found Sam watching an old Batman movie. "Hey. Where's the shrimp?" He looked around, as if Kevin was lurking in some corner he'd overlooked.
"Sleeping. He's been working on the tablet for the last 38 hours," Sam answered, taking a sip of his beer.
"Oh… good. I wanted to talk to you alone, actually."
"Alone? Where's Cas? You two have been attached at the hip lately." This time, it was Sam's turn to look around inquisitively.
"Supply run," Dean answered, failing to elaborate.
"…Right. So, what's up?"
Dean sat down on the couch, and started fiddling with the remote. "I know you don't like to talk about your sex life, but this is important."
Sam took a deep breath, put his beer down and asked uncertainly, "Uh-huh?.."
"Can't believe I'm even doing this, but here goes: have you ever… put it in the back door?" Dean scrubbed his face with his hand and Sam's eyes widened.
"Whoa… okay, you do know I'm straight, right?"
"Yes, Sammy," he answered, annoyed. "But you've been in real relationships before. I figure, after a while Jess or Amelia let you?"
Sam's expression darkened at the mention of Jess's name. He knit his brows, and steeled his jaw. Dean realized his mistake, and muttered a "Shit, I'm sorry," and stood up.
He walked by Sam's knees when Sam reached out and grabbed his wrist. "Sit down, jerk." Dean chanced a smile at him, and sat back down.
"Bitch," he responded, and the light of his brother's smile slowly eased his expression, until all that remained was the dark look in his eyes. He sighed, and was quiet for a few more minutes before he said, "I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you, but yeah – once."
"How do you –" Dean cleared his throat, "What are you supposed to do?"
"Wait – you and Cas haven't..?"
"Uh no, not yet. You wouldn't believe how unhelpful porn is."
Sam laughed entirely too hard at that, and once he'd calmed down replied, "Okay, well you have to go really slow, and use a ton of lube. Like, an excessive amount. But the most important thing is prep, you have to get the other person ready; like, use fingers or your tongue to stretch them out. I'm sure there are videos online…"
He took a deep breath, and thought for a moment. "Keep that up until they say they're ready. Oh, and I guess with guys, you would try to find the prostate."
Dean looked at him skeptically, and asked, "Wait, the thing that gets cancer and makes it hard to pee?"
"Yeah… But when there's not cancer, it's like a male g-spot. Just Google it."
"Thanks, Sammy." Dean left the den, still thoroughly embarrassed but much less nervous.
Dean spent the next three days "researching". At the end of the third day he lay sprawled out on his bed, laptop open, when Cas came into the room. "Hey," he started, "I think maybe we should talk about this more."
Cas sat in the chair opposite the bed and replied, "Okay, Dean."
"So according to this, apparently most guys 'switch': sometimes they top, sometimes they bottom. When we 'consummate', what d'you wanna do?"
"You don't have a preference?"
"Well I do, but I think I could be a switch. You know, over time."
"Since you have more experience, I think it would be wisest if you 'topped' the first time. But I would like to switch, as well."
"Okay, we're on the same page then. So I've pretty much got it figured out, but we gotta practice."
"Practice?" Cas echoed, squinting at him.
"The prep, at least. We have to get you comfortable … physically."
Cas still seemed fairly confused, so Dean handed him the laptop: "Just read that article." He mentioned something about showering, and left him to it.
When he got back, Cas was sitting cross-legged, eyebrows knit in concentration. "Did you want to do this tonight?"
"If you want to," Dean answered, caught off-guard.
Cas stood up suddenly: "I trust you can set up while I shower." He left the room and Dean skimmed over the article Cas had up – there, at the bottom, was a bullet list entitled "Set up".
Cas returned and noticed a bottle of lube on the nightstand, and Dean under the covers. He dropped his towel and crawled into bed, pleased to find him equally-naked. They kissed for awhile, rutting together. When Cas finally broke away, he just looked into Dean's eyes and nodded. "On your knees, or back?" Dean asked, warming his hands on the back of his neck.
He moved, getting onto his hands and knees: "It'll be easier this way."
Dean caressed his back, making his way to his buttocks. "Are my hands too cold?"
"No, they're fine," Cas answered, as Dean cupped his cheeks in both hands. He moved slowly inward, making his way to the cleft, and pulled them apart, getting to look at his tight pink hole for the first time.
"You okay, Cas?"
"Of course, Dean. We haven't started yet."
Dean just smirked, and reached for the bottle of lube. He coated a few fingers on one hand, and brushed his fingertips across the hole. Dean used his other hand to rub Cas' back as he stroked the outside. "Just breathe out," Dean directed. Very slowly, he eased a finger inside. "You okay?"
"It, uh, feels weird."
"Want me to stop?" he asked, concerned.
"No, it's okay," he replied, "It's fine."
He breathed deeper, and Dean experimentally worked the digit in and out as Cas slowly got used to the feeling. When he was comfortable, Dean added another finger. The stretch and slight pain of the intrusion caused Cas to let out a groan.
"Maybe that's enough for today," he said, his fingertips dragging back out.
"No." Cas reached back, and grabbed for Dean's hand. He missed but the point was taken, as he continued somewhat breathlessly, "I want to keep going."
He shifted back into place, and Dean pushed back in, the fingers crooked down as Cas clenched tight. He gasped suddenly. "Do that again," he ordered, pressing back against Dean's hand.
As Dean brushed the area, a harsh moan left his throat.
He smiled and murmured, "Got it." He reached forward, taking Cas' cock into his grip. He stroked gently, testing out a rhythm until he could move both hands at once. He couldn't see Cas' face, but if his gasps were anything to go by, he'd gotten the hang of it. "Can you handle more?"
"Ye-es," he answered breath shaky. He withdrew his fingers, re-lubing before a third joined them. As he breached the ring of muscle, Cas grunted, his legs trembling. He leaned forward again, stroking Cas to put him at ease. As he stroked slowly from the inside, stretching him out, he listened for any small sounds Cas might give. That was the problem with Castiel: he was stubborn. Dean worried he'd push himself to the point of pain just to prove he could take it. He crooked his fingers again, and was rewarded with a shudder. Dean stroked his cock faster, alternating stretching Cas with brushing his prostate.
"Dean," Cas began, an edge of panic in his voice. "I'm going t-" A guttural moan cut off his sentence, and Dean made fast work of removing his fingers before he stroked him to completion.
As he slumped across Cas' back stroking, he murmured, "Took it so good," and kissed the back of his neck.
Cas, struggling with the difficulty of holding himself up as his orgasm coursed through him whimpered "Dean", before reverting to rough pants as his release covered Dean's hand. Cas gingerly maneuvered onto his side, his eyes squeezed tight with exhaustion.
Dean quickly pulled his boxers up with one hand, and said, "Cas, I'll be right back." He scrubbed his hands thoroughly and came back with a warm washcloth. Cas hadn't moved an inch; in fact, he seemed to be sleeping. He scrubbed at the white marks on his comforter before he shifted in behind him. Using one hand to crook his leg up, the other gently wiped the lube from his legs. As he dipped it in between Cas' cheeks, he heard a startled noise.
"Dean, what are you doing?"
"Relax, I'm just cleaning you up."
Cas shifted position suddenly, so he was kneeling on the bed. With an odd expression on his face, he looked at Dean and quickly responded, "I can do it myself."
He stood up and snatched his underwear from the bed, stepping into them before heading out. He looked at his retreating figure for a moment, eyebrows raised. He figured Cas would be back soon, and shrugged, throwing the cloth in his hamper. He lay back against the bed, palming himself to relieve some of the pressure from his unsatisfied erection.
After a while had gone by, he began to get concerned; Cas still hadn't come back. Had he made him bleed? Or worse – was he taking some sort of sodomy-purification shower? When they started this up, they hadn't talked in much depth about how cool Cas was with all this gay stuff. Maybe he wanted to be with Dean, but not fuck him.
Shit … had Dean pressured him? He stood up and walked out of the room, stomach flipping uncomfortably. He turned, ready to head towards the bathroom when he noticed the light on under Castiel's door. He rapped lightly: "Cas, you okay?"
"I'm fine, Dean. I'll be back in a minute." He didn't sound particularly upset or alarmed, so Dean didn't push him. He'd talk when he'd talk.
He went back to his room, and crawled under the covers. Annoyed he still hadn't softened, he wrapped a hand around himself and stroked slowly… Some ten minutes later, he heard a knock at the door. "Dean, can I come in?"
His hand stilled, and voice thick with lust, he managed a "Yeah," breathing hard. As Cas shut the door behind him, he answered, "You're going to have to give me a minute. I was jerking off." Cas moved towards the bed, as Dean slid his boxers back up.
"Then why did you let me in?"
"Coulda been important. Or…" When he didn't seem to get the hint, Dean sighed: "Or you could help me out."
No sooner had the words left his mouth that Cas had dove under the covers and was pulling his underwear down. His mouth was on him in the next minute, and Dean groaned. He'd been excited for so long that he came embarrassingly fast, uttering a strained "Cas!" before words left him.
Cas surfaced, and curled up at Dean's side. "Good?" he asked, a hand covering his freckled chest.
"You're always good," he answered, curling an arm around Cas' shoulders. He kissed his forehead and asked, "You okay?"Cas shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip. "Is it…" he trailed off, trying to get the words out, "a sodomy thing?"
Cas let out a bark of laughter. "I'm guessing not, then," Dean replied dryly, as Cas continued to laugh, wiping the tears from his eyes.
Once he was able to school his expression into something halfway serious, he replied, "I keep forgetting that that word has a different connotation on earth. Dean, do you know the story of Sodom and Gomorrah?" Dean shook his head.
"Although the word sodomy has been adopted to mean 'non-vaginal intercourse,' it comes from much darker roots. Sodom and Gomorrah were wicked places that God saw fit to… cleanse. The men of Sodom were particularly evil: Two angels descended from heaven and the men meant to… have their way with them."
"Wait – some guys gang-raped angels?"
"They tried to, but Lot stopped them. But the idea of it stoked the fire of my Father's rage more than anything else could have. He burned the men alive, and the rest of the town with it in a rain of fire and brimstone. Gomorrah suffered a similar fate."
Dean just looked at him dumbstruck. "So if it's all the same to you, I'd rather we not use that word. I still remember the way they looked when they returned to heaven. The seed of doubt in humanity was truly sown that day."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"But to answer your question, I don't have a problem with anal intercourse or fellatio. I would not engage in it otherwise."
Dean quirked a smile at that, and asked, "Okay, well then what?" Cas was quiet. "Was it the washcloth thing – did it feel weird? I was just going off the website…" He thought for a moment. "Did you think I was rimming you? Because I wouldn't spring that kinda thing on you, I swear."
"No, I didn't think it was analingus… I don't understand this body. Its urges still confuse me."
Dean chuckled, and deadpanned, "So you had to go to the bathroom. Big deal, we all do that."
"I - I thought I did, but I didn't."
"Did you even read the article?"
"Of course, Dean."
"Well, what did you think they meant by 'the urge to go'?"
"I thought they meant physically fleeing."
"Well, now you've felt both of those. Just… let me know you're coming back if you leave again, okay?"
"Okay," Cas agreed, and Dean kissed his forehead, before they fell asleep.