The plane ride was nothing to write home about, mostly Dean just slept. He had had enough of the plane rocking up and down and decided it was time to be out like a light. He knew the flight was somewhat long, upwards of 5 hours depending on the weather.
He was only just waking up when the plane's wheels touched down. Dean took a moment to stretch in his seat and look at his surroundings. Outside, it was covered in snow, with gray skies and leafless trees.
The interior of the plane made Dean feel like a stuck-up government junkie. Someone who should be wearing tight suits and reading glasses at all times. Luckily he only had the suits, and felt a little more comfortable that he wasn't a government minion. Sure, he worked for them sometimes, but mostly he was just contracted.
And damn, he was the best, so of course the government hired the best, right? The plane he was on was a small private jet, something the President would be seen getting out of. Everything was gold-plated and expensive looking, even the shot glasses sitting on the table. The chairs were far too squishy and he was offered some type of alcohol every 5 minutes.
He usually enjoyed his alcohol, but right now he had to focus on his mission. Maybe after he was settled in he would walk around the city and see what they had to offer for entertainment. He rose from his seat, waving off another attendant coming to ask him if he needed a drink.
Right now, he just needed his feet to feel solid ground. And, boy, was it a comfortable feeling when Dean descended the stair case and felt the cold, frozen ground beneath him. Yeah, it was cold as hell, but it was a lot better than that death trap of a flying thing. Nobody was safe in planes, nobody.
He let a butler type of dude take his duffle bag and lead him to a car. Bumping his head while getting into the car, he grumbled and shifted in his less comfortable seat. The ride to the hotel only took a few minutes but Dean was cramped in the back the entire time. Finally, the car stopped for good, and Dean let himself onto the street so that he was standing in front of Sante Lee Hotel. With duffel and sniper bag in hand, he pushed open the door.
An actual butler this time took his duffel and loaded it onto one of those trolley things. Dean always wanted to ride those when he was little, but never got the chance due to only ever staying in motels. He thanked the man and checked in at the front desk.
Room 542.
He was almost neighbors with Novak. He would have to be careful, in order to avoid rousing his suspicions. He took the key card from the busty brunette in front of him and threw a smile her way. He carried his bag and pulled the trolley to the elevator, hitting the number 5 button once he was inside.
The elevator music was absolutely horrendous. It was a weird mix between country and pop, but had a splash of Crathian thrown in. It was almost like the writer's thought 'hmm what is the most annoying thing we can come up with.'
Before long though, Dean was let out into an empty hallway. He left the trolley in the elevator, not quite sure what to do with it, and shouldered his duffle. Counting the numbers on the doors, he finally stood in front of his own. He slipped in the key card to the slot and waited for a green light to flash at him.
The green light appeared soon enough, and he let himself into his room. It was honestly nothing special, white comforters, white walls, white everything. He wished they at least had stuck with the 80s theme the lobby seemed to have. Dean set his bag on the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room and continued his search. There was nothing in the fridge or the cabinets.
This was boring as hell; no way Dean would stay cooped up in here for two days. Dean slipped his room key into his wallet and headed out his door again. Checking to make sure it was locked, Dean made his way to the stairs. No way in hell was he going to listen to that awful music again
He pushed through a side door and was welcomed by the loud noises and bright lights of the city. He took a moment to look around, looking for some place close he could hopefully get a few beers. Hell, maybe if he was lucky he could even bring home some entertainment for the night.
He found a place nearby the hotel, called the 'Black Lagoon' and hoped it would live up to its really fucking weird name. Mermaid names like that usually mean stripper joints, which also meant booze and babes.
Once through the door, he was immediately hit with the smell of weed, alcohol, and cheap cologne. Perfect, just what the doctor ordered. He waltzed to the bar, raising a finger to get the bartender's attention.
The attractive man, slightly too short for Dean's taste, flashed a smile and leaned onto the bar. He batted his eyelashes at Dean and asked what he wanted with a long northern drawl. It was weird for Dean to hear northern accents; he was so used to his own southern.
After the moment of surprise passed, Dean ordered whiskey and turned around to watch the crowd. A lot of interesting people were out tonight, it seems, because there were a lot of couples grinding on the dance floor.
It must've been some masquerade night because a lot of the guests were wearing masks. He turned back to the bartender and winked at the blonde man, "Any chance you have an extra mask laying around?" He did his best to let his southern accent shine through.
The man pursed his lips in fake thought, tapping his chin before his eyes brightened. He pulled out a mask from under the counter and handed it to Dean. Perfect. It was a feather-filled disaster of a mask.
Blue and purple feathers looked to be haphazardly glued onto the framework. There looked to be about a pound of glitter caked around the edges of the eyes and nose. It covered almost his entire face, however, save for his eyes and mouth. His nose was slightly open, not quite showing, but allowing enough air to come through.
At least nobody would recognize him, he thought. He nodded his thanks to the bartender and slid it over his face. He downed his entire drink, leaving the cup on the bar, before going to mingle with the crowd.
As he walked through, he grabbed some of the girls' hips and was groped a little himself. Nobody was quite to interesting enough for him to stop however, so he continued on his way. After roaming the groups for a little while, Dean got bored with himself and took a seat near a lounging area.
He was sitting in a loveseat, but a few chairs over, a couple was making out all over a couch. He ignored them, favoring scanning the crowds for a possible hookup. It was hard to tell who was attractive though, with the masks.
He was content listening to the booming music and watching the bodies mingle when suddenly a figure blocked his vision. He looked up and saw bright green feathers. The mask the man was wearing was beautifully made, looking far too professional for a joint like this.
It showed the man's high cheek bones and full pink lips. It wasn't until Dean looked up into the blue eyes that he was interested enough to pursue. Apparently his mind was set on blue eyes lately, because he rose and followed the man who was beckoning him with a finger.
God, he didn't even know who it was, but isn't that the fun part? They made their way to an empty hallway before Dean saw his chance. He grabbed a handful of the man's hair and pushed him against the wall. Immediately, Dean was on him, the other hand coming to stroke at his side.
Dean watched the pink lips break out into a smile, and that was all it took for Dean to rush forward and kiss the man in front of him. His lips broke apart, his own tongue sliding against the man's lips, begging for entry.
Once his lips gave way, Dean breathed a sigh of relief and began exploring. He was completely engrossed in the feel of the mouth on his, he barely noticed a hand come to grip his hip. That was, until positions flip and suddenly he's the one pressed against the wall being kissed for dear life.
Hands flew everywhere, searching each other's body, trying to find skin. Dean dragged his tongue along the roof of the man's mouth as his thumbs hooked into the pants and pulled him impossibly closer.
A hand came to grip Dean's hair, yanking slightly until he tipped his chin upwards. Once his head was far enough up, their lips broke contact and the man latched onto his neck. They still had their masks on, and Dean kept getting tickled by the feathers, but he didn't give one shit.
He focused solely on the mouth that was caressing his neck. The mouth kept dipping down lower, and his shirt was pulled down to allow access to his collar bone. Once enough was showing, the man began to nip softly at the bone.
Dean let out an embarrassing whine, his knees going weak. He pulled the man off of him and pulled him towards one of the empty rooms. The handle was slippery in Dean's hand, as he struggled with it to try and get it open.
When the door finally swung open, both men crashed into the room and saw two dudes smoking a bong in the corner. Dean opened his mouth, about to tell them to leave when a voice from behind him spoke.
"Out. Now." It commanded, voice strong and sure. The two guys grabbed their shit and bolted from the room, not wanting to stay another minute. The man's breath down Dean's back gave him chills, and he leaned against the man, his head falling back onto the other's shoulder.
Once again, the man went caressed Dean's neck with his lips, one hand coming to hold the other side of his head. Dean allowed it for a moment, before he turned and lifted the man up and against the door.
He held the man steadily by his knees, pressing him against the door as he leaned in for a kiss. The man, obviously surprised by the sudden change, wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and squeezed.
Dean let his hands wander up to the man's ass once he knew the man could hold himself up. He let his fingers trail across the man's pants, dipping into his underwear to caress his tailbone. It was an awkward position, but Dean knew if he switched now he would give up control to the man.
And no way was he bottoming for this dude.
A hand came in between them, and palmed at Dean's erection. Dean leaned forward even more, breaking the kiss and moaning against the man's neck. He rubbed himself against the firm hand, breathing hotly into the wet skin.
The sound of his own zipper was enough to spur Dean into action once more. One of his hands left the guy's ass, and came to unzip the guy's pants. It was a bit of awkward fumbling before both of them had each other's dicks in their hand.
The stroking started almost immediately, and it was almost like a race to see who could get the other to come first. Dean used all of his tricks, pressing against the slit, rubbing the vein, twisting his hand. And to be honest, he would have gotten off just at the sight of the man in front of him.
All Dean could see where black eyes, pupils expanded with lust, pink cheeks and bright red lips just barely open. He looked completely blissed out, and it was enough to make Dean rock into the hand that was holding him. He groaned as a warning of his own release coming soon and fell forward against the man, forehead to forehead.
Usually he wasn't one for so much intimacy with just a hookup, but it felt right with this guy. Dean stared into the black eyes, barely a sliver of blue showing, as he rocked himself into the hand. He panted against the man's cheek, teeth catching every once in a while against the man's sharp cheekbone.
With a twist of the man's hand, Dean was coming all over that same hand, moaning into the guy's cheek. It seemed to go on forever, rocking slightly in the hand as warm come, both his and the man's soaked through their clothes.
Once Dean had regained conscious thought, he carefully let the man down onto his feet, his own legs quite wobbly. He backed away a little from the man, giving them both some room to catch their breath.
As soon as Dean thought he was steady enough to walk, he wandered into the bathroom and wet a washcloth. He brought it out, ready for awkward conversations, only to find the room empty.
The man had left Dean alone, bolting as soon as he had the chance. And damn, if that wasn't a shot to the ego. He huffed a breath, bringing the washcloth to his own clothes and cleaning the drying come from them.
He threw the washcloth back into the bathroom, and made his exit from the club. Honestly, he was exhausted, and was ready to hit the hay in his hotel room. He crossed the street, only barely remembering to take off the mask before entering the lobby.
He smiled at the receptionist, not returning her flirting smiles, and made his way upstairs. He looked down the hall, and saw barely the wisp of a trench coat disappear into room 549. Damn, Novak must have just entered the lobby right before he had.
Unlocking his room, he let out a heavy sigh and tore off his clothes. He fell into bed, letting the world fade into darkness.