A/N: This chapter is going to be a little PWP, if that isn't your plate of biscuits then you're welcome to skip it. While I have read some impressively arousing enema fiction, I am not brave enough to attempt the written backdoor wash down. I'll put a little line break and let your imagination's wander. And then I'll write some porn. And then maybe some plot will work its way into the chapter, like an enema working its way int- NO I'M SORRY I AM NOT PREPARED.

xXx

To save the time of anyone considering, Dean had decided to create a list of reasons he was about to have his dude card permanently revoked and be presented instead with a training bra and box of tampons.

1. He had actually spent time in the supermarket, looking at candles and considering. Yeah, he was considering buying candles for Cas when he came over so that they could… oh god. Yeah, that bought him to number,

2. He was nervous. Dean Goddamn Winchester was nervous about a guy. He didn't get nervous about guys unless those guys happened to have automatic firing rifles and were wearing camouflage.

3. And this was the big one. Not only had Dean Winchester considered the fact that he may be – oh god, Dean, don't think it – bottoming this evening (pull yourself together), he had decided to go ahead and purchase hygienic and sanitary precautionary items.

4. Items that he was currently staring at.

5. With a mixture of horror,

6. Curiosity,

7. And arousal.

He was sitting on the toilet seat, fully clothed staring at the instructions on the back of the – Jesus Dean what the hell have you gotten yourself into – enema kit.

"Son of a bitch." He whispered out loud, putting the box down so he could strip his shirt off.

xXx

About half an hour, some very unmanly noises, and a surprise erection later, Dean found himself sitting in the lounge room wrapped loosely in a towel.

"If I do it now, I'll be less sensitive for Cas." Dean reasoned to himself, looking down at his flagging erection. His dick gave an interested twitch when the thought of Cas entered his mind again, and Dean groaned.

"Yep," he muttered, "This is definitely happening."

He allowed the towel to gape open, his cock appearing from underneath the white, fluffy material. He made a loose fist and began the age old act of masturbation – something Dean Winchester had down to an art form.

He smeared the precum across his palm and pumped lazily, a thought entering his mind with such a sudden appearance that his breath stuttered out of him all at once and his fist tightened around his cock.

He stared evenly at what he had bought down from his new room, and was currently sitting on the table with a kind of feigned innocence, as though it hadn't just made this thought jump into Dean's skull.

Lube.

Dean reached out – no his hands were not shaking – and took the bottle, applying a liberal amount to his fingers and warming it up with slow movements across the pads of his index and middle finger that made him remember how Cas' hands had felt on his arms, surprisingly strong and large. Cas, in his business suit and ridiculous hair. Dean could imagine peeling that suit off him – or maybe even better – leaving the suit on. Dean groaned, thinking of unzipping his pants and pulling that cock out, swallowing Cas down while he was still fully dressed, or Cas fucking him against his desk, muffling sounds from the officer by gagging him with that loose blue tie…

Dean's erection was well and truly back.

"One step at a time." Dean told himself, leaning forwards so that his fingers could trail across his hip, around the cheek of his arse where Cas had brushed against only a few hours ago, and dipping into the middle.

Dean exhaled heavily when his fingers found his rim, poking forward with a delicious, wet, heat that made Dean remember those times over in Afghanistan when the loneliness had got to be too much and friends had turned into awkward acquaintances after a night of… well…

He pushed slightly, his first finger dipping in up to the knuckle and a little gasp escaping his lips.

Ok, so this felt better than he remembered.

Inquisitively, he pushed in further and then slid out again. After a few repetitions, he added the second finger.

His cock was straining against his stomach now, precum smearing on his abs as he worked his fingers into himself, scissoring slightly on the way out and feeling the muscles relaxing. He could imagine Cas coming around, imagine him finding Dean already lubed and stretched, of the noises he might make.

Dean made a low groan and finally, finally, took his erection into his non-dominant left hand, his right still disappearing behind himself with increasing rapidity. He was nearing completion now, looking around worriedly for some paper towels or something and spotting his discarded t-shirt. He leant backwards to grasp it in between his teeth, but that was the push sent his fingers on an angle that suddenly made his mouth relax as a startled noise broke through his throat, his left hand stuttering in its rhythm as his release striped his own chest and his fingers slowed down, dropping so his right arm was draped limply against the couch.

"Jesus Christ." He whispered, finally grabbing his shirt and cleaning off his chest, wondering if he should have another shower, and thinking to himself that if God really didn't want there to be homosexuals, he shouldn't have put the male g-spot in a place that was really only accessible to other men.

A knock on the door pulled Dean from his reverie, and he almost got up to answer it when he realised he was only in a towel, clutching his soiled shirt.

"Shit." He whispered, edging towards the stairs, wondering how long it would take him to get to his room and then back down again. "Uh… who is it?" he asked, wincing at the way his voice sounded.

"Dean?" Castiel's unmistakable voice broke through the wood.

"Just a minute!" Dean shouted back, running up the stairs hurriedly and barreling into his room, grabbing jeans off the floor and pulling them on, shrugging himself into a grey shirt as well that was – he gave it a sniff – reasonably clean.

He skipped back down the steps, taking the last two in a leap that landed him next to the door, he steadied himself with a breath and then pulled the door open.

Cas had come straight from work, he was in his usual suit with his trench coat over the top, silky blue tie loosened so that the straight column of his neck was on display. His hair was in disarray and he had tired circles under his eyes.

Dean found it almost comically sexy.

"Come in." he said, holding the door slightly wider so Cas could pass him. He did so slowly, stepping obscenely close.

"Your shirt is on backwards." He informed Dean in his business-like voice.

Dean laughed and closed the door. "My bad," he shrugged.

As soon as the door was closed Castiel's stance changed, somehow relaxing, somehow more tense.

"Tell me, Dean. What were you doing here, downstairs, not wearing any clothes?" Cas asked

"I'm sorry?" Dean asked, feeling a blush rising and forcing it downwards.

"Your shirt is on backwards, your jeans button is undone, I very clearly heard you running up the stairs and…" Cas gestured – almost awkwardly – to the couch. "Lube is on the table, cap unscrewed."

Dean swallowed noisily when Cas moved into his personal space, closing the distance between them. Dean leaned down, keen to feel his lips again, but was rejected when Cas tilted his head, instead taking Dean's jeans in hand and undoing the zipper. He gave one questioning look to his lack of underwear and then a huff of air left him.

"Dean," he said on an exhalation, and this time he didn't leave time for rejection. Dean's hands found the stubble-lined jaw and tilted it upwards, gripping so tightly that Cas' lips opened and Dean pushed his tongue inside roughly, not letting go of his face.

Cas kissed him back, his hands tangling in the back – well, front – of Dean's shirt, fists clenching and unclenching around the material. Dean pushed him back against the door, his hands leaving Cas' face so that they could trail to his shoulders, pushing off the trench coat.

Cas seemed to get the idea, and he let go of Dean so his arms could slip through the holes. He had moved his hands to unbutton his white shirt when Dean caught his wrists and restrained them, swallowing nervously when he remembered his earlier fantasy.

"Cas, can I-" Dean swallowed, his voice catching. Unable to finish his sentence, he moved his fingers to the front of Cas' pants and unzipped them, reaching in to stroke sure hands over the growing bulge in his boxers.

Dean looked down so he could watch as he dipped fingers into the slit of his boxers, skin touching overheated skin and relishing the gasp that escaped Cas, forcing Dean's eyes to snap back up and take in the gaze that Cas was holding him in – blue eyes blown wide, staring at him incredulously.

"Can I?" Dean tried again, and Cas nodded wordlessly as Dean shifted his grip and finally pulled Cas' cock out of the zipper and stroked lightly, feeling the beading precum at the tip and the perfect shape of him. God, he was unbelievable. All hot skin and thick length, maybe the same size as Dean at a glance.

Dean sunk to his knees reverently, one hand steadying on his hip and the other guiding Cas' cock towards his face.

Cas made a strangled noise when Dean nuzzled at his crotch, smearing the precum across his cheek and then leaning back on his knees so he could stare into Cas' face as he took the tip in between his lips, placing a slow kiss and thinking to himself that he was not going to fuck this up. So what if he had only really given one blow job in his life, or that he wasn't even positive he liked dick in his mouth until this very second.

Thinking of what he personally enjoyed, he tightened his fist around the base and begun taking Cas into his mouth, suckling carefully on the tip, tasting him – all bitter and sweet and wonderful. He continued this ministration when Cas hissed and his hands relocated to the back of Dean's head, massaging lightly against the scalp and wrenching a startled groan out of his throat, the vibration making Cas tighten his hands.

Dean nursed the tip of his erection, tongue lapping at his slit and hand moving in tandem with the pulsing of his mouth, feeling stirrings in his stomach when Cas gave a weak groan and whispered,

"Dean, yes." A dull thud signalling that Cas' head had just hit the door.

Taking the encouragement, Dean slid forwards, taking more of Cas into his mouth until the tip nudged his throat and he swallowed.

"Jesus." Cas' breathing was heavy, little noises spilling over his lips when Dean returned to suckling the tip, swallowing precum and speeding up the rhythm of his hand.

"Dean," He said quietly, like a prayer, and Dean rubbed his tongue against the underside of his cock, sucking in breath through his nose and then sinking as far as he could go, swallowing convulsively around the tip.

"Dean," it was hissed urgently, and fingers tightened in his hair to the point of pain, a long, low noise steadily streaming from Cas' parted lips.

Dean dragged his fingers slowly lower, ghosting over the soft skin of Cas' bollocks and circling lightly over the pucker of his ass.

"De-" his exhalation was cut short by a series of short, stuttered sounds and a rough thrust of his hips, and then he was coming in Dean's mouth, all salty and sweet and bitter and Cas.

Dean swallowed as he pulled back, feeling a dribble of semen leave his lips and track towards his chin. Cas' hands untangled from his hair and were resting pensively on his cheekbones, and he swept a thumb down towards Dean's lips, pushing the line of cum from the dip in his chin and up, back into his mouth.

Dean obediently opened and suckled Cas' thumb, swallowing the remaining residue and then grinning up at him.

Cas shuddered out a laugh and tugged at Dean's shoulders, urging him to stand. He did so, re-zipping his jeans and bending his knees slightly to work out the soreness. Cas frowned at where Dean had just redone his jeans, and Dean found a laugh escaping his swollen lips.

"Round two in twenty minutes or so, hey? I'm not a teenager anymore." Dean said, his voice was roughened and low and seemed to have some kind of effect on Cas, because despite the fact Dean's mouth had just been on his cock, Cas seemed eager to taste him, because he was leaning in with his dry lips parted and Dean noted that this relationship seemed to revolve heavily on the fact that they didn't really deny each other anything.

He kissed him slower this time, a soft press of lips and a gentle drag of teeth. Dean smoothed down his unruly, black hair and pushed gently against the seam of Cas' lips with his tongue, all soft and pliant, making his chest constrict.

When they pulled away Cas was smiling, shaking his head slightly.

"I don't usually do this," he said, his voice somehow rougher. "I don't know what you must think of me."

"Dude, I'm the one who just blew you against a door." Dean pointed out, mentally cursing his social abrasiveness. Cas was smiling though, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I don't usually do this kind of thing either, for the record."

"I guess this is strange for both of us then." Cas pointed out, his expression neutral again.

"I suppose so." Dean agreed, biting his lip slightly and turning to the kitchen. "Is it too weird to offer coffee now or…?"

"I'd very much enjoy a coffee." Cas replied seriously.

"Great." Dean smiled, turning to make his way into the kitchen. On the way there he shrugged out of his shirt, turning it around and pulling it back on, the right way round. He flicked on the kettle and pulled down two mugs, turning around to face Cas and finding him looking at the photos on the mantle, his eyes squinted and his head tilted.

"So," Dean said awkwardly. "How's the thing going with… Sebastian?"

"It's going well," Cas spoke without turning his head, still observing the pictures. "We've gotten some crucial information out of him."

"Good stuff." Dean nodded, thinking that it was probably illegal for him to ask what that information was.

It's not like he was interested.

He didn't care about some punk ass kid who killed his dad.

He cared about… making this coffee.

Nodding to himself, he continued around the kitchen, pulling out milk and sugar and allowing Castiel to place his own in the mug to the left.

They drank in silence, feeling only slightly uncomfortable (mostly to do with the fact that Dean wasn't wearing underpants, his knees were slightly sore and he thinks there could be nail marks on his scalp.) After a while Cas walks over to Dean's side of the kitchen counter and raises his eyebrows expectantly. Not quite knowing what to do, Dean puts down his mug and opens his arms for Cas, thinking maybe the guy is a cuddler.

Cas, however, takes the opportunity of Dean's spread arms to unbutton his jeans and slowly drag the zip downwards, revealing more of Dean's skin and a trail of golden hair.

"It's been twenty minutes, Dean." Cas' voice is doing things to him, and a needy sound escapes his lips when Cas pushes forward, trapping him against the counter and tilting his head upwards as a request for another kiss, which Dean obliges, tasting of coffee and warmth.

Dean divests Cas of his jacket and pulls him closer, groaning when Cas plants a thigh between his legs, and his dick decides to become interested all of a sudden.

Cas must feel it, because he smiles slightly against his mouth and moves his hands to the waist of Dean's jeans, tugging them downwards and allowing his semi-hard cock free. He strokes a hand up the length and it hardens more, making Cas hiss slightly as though his cock is the one being man-handled by a sexy police officer.

He quirks an eyebrow suddenly, his breath catching. "Dean," he stutters, and his voice sounds raw. "You don't have any…"

"Any what?" Dean asks, feeling slightly worried. Is something wrong? With his… oh god.

"You don't have any lubrication on your penis." Cas clarifies.

"Oh," Dean says, relief flooding through him. "No, no I don't."

"But there was…" Cas frowns, recognition dawning in his features. His lips move around a word that might be 'no', and then his fingers pull the jeans completely off and he tugs Dean as close as he can physically get, kissing him roughly.

Dean is all for this change, but he can't quite work out what Cas is getting at.

That is, until his hands reach towards the swell of his ass, smoothing against the skin before dipping in towards where his hole is still loose and wet, clenching when fingers brush against it and then Cas goes silent.

"You…" Cas looks up at him, something akin to wonder in his eyes. Dean feels a little vulnerable, like maybe this session has a little too much emotion in it.

So he grins instead, manoeuvring a hand behind himself so he can grasp Cas' wrist and push it slightly, so the finger that had been circling his rim is now pushing forward, easily sliding against lubricated muscle and Dean clenches his eyes shut because shit that feels good.

"You like that, Cas?" Ok, so its cliché, not the best start to his career in dirty talking. "You can't imagine what I did for you." Dean smirked, pushing back a little more. "Or maybe you can?"

Cas groaned, sheathed his finger inside of Dean, crumpled forward a little. Dean caught him, soothed a hand up his back, moved his lips so they were hovering over his ear.

"I got myself all clean and then I came downstairs, just wearing a towel. I sat on that couch and I thought of you, Cas. Thought of doing all kinds of dirty things to you and then… well, I just couldn't help myself."

A second finger is coming in to play, and Dean welcomes it eagerly. Soon Cas is scissoring the fingers in and out of Dean and it has become significantly more difficult to order his thoughts.

"I took two fingers, pushed them inside of me and imagined it was you, all the while fucking into my fist until I came… and then who should appear at my door but…" Cas had stilled, fingers still inside Dean, head tilted towards him.

Dean gave his earlobe a playful bite and rocked backwards against his fingers.

"You wanna fuck me, Cas?" Dean asked, and Cas' head snapped around to look at him.

"Yes," Castiel replied, fingers slipping out of his ass and trailing around to his cock. "But not right now,"

His grip tightened and Dean shuddered as Cas began to jerk him, sinking to his knees in front of him.

"Why not?" Dean asked, slightly put out.

"Because Sam's going to be home in ten minutes, and I plan on taking my time with you." Cas growled, and then both hands were on his hips and he turned Dean around so suddenly that he was powerless to do anything aside from dimly wonder what the hell Cas was doing, grab the counter for support, and allow the fleeting thought of 'Just wait a few moments, Sammy' , and then his thoughts were a pulsing, screaming white noise against the feeling of a tongue against his entrance.

"Ca-as." Dean's voice escaped him in a breathless whimper and he felt himself shamelessly pressing back against the tongue that was probing against the stretched flesh, dipping inside and sucking around the edges. Cas' hand had found its way back to his cock, and he was pumping in time with flicks of his tongue, moving to twist his stroke at the head and then spearing his tongue inside of him.

Dean groaned again, feeling Cas fucking him with his tongue and blinking rapidly, small noises escaping his throat.

"Cas, I'm not going to-" please, please don't let this be over so quickly. God damn it, he had prepared for this moment and now it was-

"Cas, sweet fucking Jesus, Cas."

Over.

Speaking of over, his release was all fucking over Sam's kitchen cabinets.

"That could be awkward to explain." Dean muttered, turning around to face Cas and feeling his stomach clench at the sight.

He was still on his knees, his eyes blown and his hand working his cock. He had spit smeared on his cheeks and his lips were swollen. With a groan, Dean dropped next to him and swatted his hand away, replacing it with his own and nuzzling into Cas' neck as he pumped. It only took a few strokes, Dean whispering filthy things into his ear and tightening his hold, before Cas was coming again, spilling across Dean's hand and shuddering in his arms.

He held him, feeling like his dude card was well and truly gone anyway so he may as well enjoy this new embraced girlyness.

"Let go of me." Cas muttered

"Not a chance." Dean replied

"I meant my…" Cas gestured towards his dick and Dean laughed, releasing his hold and then turning to look at the cabinet beside them.

"Somehow I don't think my brother would approve of our redecorations." He said.

Cas' answering grin almost made him want to leave it.

xXx

A/N: Well. Um. Yes. That is… definitely a chapter full of porn. I'll be getting back to the story line next chapter. Huge thank you to everyone who favourited and followed. You are as comforting as a warm enema. (I swear to god I'll stop making enema jokes soon.) Big, wet, sloppy kisses to Destiel101 for the lovely, lovely review. Kamja, I hope no one will get hurt how that you have your destiel. Calm yourself Iago, Bobby is present and all is well. Bobby is everywhere. Bobby is a state of mind. You can see Bobby, in the face of every child, in the laugh of every baby.

But for reals he's just over at his yard idk they might visit him l8er. And I have a soft spot for Uriel idk. Mary's death will be explored later, CoolBeena, you little impatient noodle. DeansMuse I hope this chapter answered your question. Yes, I also have a thing for bottom!Dean. But this story will also probably feature bottom!Cas. You are all wonderful. Congratulations on your existence. This story, much like my life, is dedicated to my American lover, Amy. And if it's wrong to dedicate a big ole' chapter of gay porn to your inter-country lesbian fiancée then I don't want to be right.