Author's Note: How the public indecency charge came about.
Dean doesn't notice when Cas's hand goes under the table, but he does notice it when it lands on his thigh. He keeps his eyes on Sam, still going on about the two demons they've been hunting, but his mind is quickly drifting elsewhere.
Cas's hand slides higher up his thigh, and Dean shoots him a warning glance. Judge Finnerman is here, distracted by two barmaids at the moment, but if Cas goes any farther, Dean's gonna have to fuck him, and this place ain't exactly private. Of course, Cas only arches a brow at him, the very epitome of innocence in his black robes and clerical collar, hair neatly swept to one side.
"Careful there, preacher," Dean says, giving Cas another chance because pal, the judge is right there.
"Should I go?" Sam says, eyes flitting between them.
"No," Dean responds just as Cas says, "Yes."
Sam sighs. "Let's not get chased out of this town too, boys," he says before thumping the table once and getting to his feet.
While Dean is distracted by Sam's departure, Cas's hand slides all the way up to press against Dean's cock, half-hard in his pants, and Dean looks at him sharply.
"Oh, you're gonna get it, preacher," he near-growls. "Up," he adds, hauling Cas to his feet and dragging him around the bar. Their movement attracts little attention; this sleepy town isn't much interested in the business of dusty travelers and their fucking disobedient preachers.
Dean drags Cas into the nook beneath the stairs, not private but certainly better than bending him right over the table and taking him, and shoves him down to his knees.
"Dear Lord," Cas huffs, glaring up at Dean, and maybe Dean pushed a little harder than usual, but Cas deserves it for provoking him.
"Dear Lord, indeed," Dean says, undoing the ties of his pants. "Your lord's got some work for you to do."
Cas clenches his jaw, playing defiant, but his eyes are fixed hungrily on Dean's cock as it's revealed, and he bites his lips, no doubt to keep from slobbering all over the place. Dean fists a hand in Cas's unkempt hair and drags him closer.
"C'mon, Cas," he says, pressing the head of his cock against Cas's plump lower lip, "thought you were eager to serve."
Cas opens up for him, tongue lathing around the head of his cock, and Dean lets him keep his slow pace for maybe a minute before tiring of his ministrations and shoving his cock down Cas's throat, thrilled by the sound of Cas gagging around him.
Dean's on the brink of coming when some wench walks around to investigate the noise—friggin' Cas, unable to suck some cock without moaning like a whore—and the thought of being caught like this is enough to have Dean gasping out a moan and coming hotly down Cas's throat.
Needless to say, they hightail it outta that town.
They're already miles and miles down the road when Sam turns to berate them and says instead, "Uh, Cas, there's still some, uh, on your cheek."
Dean bursts into laughter.