A/N - Quick and fun side note from last chapter that I forgot to mention - I made reference to Bancroft, Idaho as the location of their upcoming job and that they were 17 hours into a cross-country journey from their LAST job in a rinky dink town in New York state. Bancroft ID actually is a tiny town of approx 450 people and Omaha/Lincoln IS approximately 17 hours into the journey from my hometown in New York to Idaho. I couldn't resist, seeing as how there are is a couple down the road from me who own a 1960s black Impala. Every time they pass my complex, I shout, "It's Sam and Dean!"

Hope you enjoy this chapter, lovies. The next few will be a very different tonal shift, but this one sets up where I go next.

Enjoy,

~~ ** Lady Tuesday ** ~~

Dean Fucks with Cas, Take 4 – The Internet is For Porn

The fourth time it happens, Dean admits (if only to himself) that there is no possible way to write this off as just fucking with Cas to get a rise out of him anymore. Even if he could have done that the first time – and maybe, maybe, the second – he left justifiable protests back outside of Omaha when he dry-humped his baby's back seat during mental butt sex with his angelic BFF. The thing is, it hadn't been just screwing with him that got Dean off; both the idea and the mental picture of actually screwing Cas had turned him on more than anything had in as long as he could remember. So Dean does what he does with any problem: barrel straight at it, both middle fingers raised, and kick it in the ass.

Well, after burying his feelings to the point where they fester and cause him to do something stupid, then barrel at it and kick it in the ass. Or fuck it in the ass, which seems more and more likely to be the case here … aaaaaaand now he's come back around to the burying his feelings part.

Nope. No. No burying, not anymore. Dean Winchester is not a fucking coward. Much. Not about sex anyway, God damn it.

Settling back against the headboard of his bed in the bunker and propping his laptop open on his outstretched legs, Dean's honestly not certain if he's in the "do something stupid" phase or the "barrel straight at it phase". His fingers are tingling a bit, nervous, as they hover over the keys. He can't seem to make himself finish typing the URL he'd stealthily researched earlier, which is just stupid considering he's alone in his locked bedroom. The empty bunker's even empty for the night because Sam fucked off to some jumped-up microbrewery a few towns over for some sort of pretentious trivia contest where nerds congratulate other nerds on knowing shit that's no use to anybody.

"Nut up, Winchester," Dean growls to himself because even he knows that he's stalling now. He hits ENTER on his keyboard and up pops the website.

Cheeks flushing, Dean's drags his cursor indecisively back and forth over the line of thumbnails. When planning this little foray – if half an hour of sneakily Googling gay porn sites while pretending to look for cases counts as "planning" – Dean seems to have gained the mistaken impression that this would be easy. He'd pull up a couple of videos, watch some dudes going at it, and decide whether it's the idea of dude sex in general that's ringing his bell these days or whether it's more Cas-specific. Simple, right? Well, not so much, he now discovers. Where he'd thought that the videos would mostly be blow jobs or hard core anal and he'd only have to watch a few to see what (if anything) gets him going, the variety of what's in front of him proves a little daunting. Which, in retrospect, he should have seen coming; Dean is no stranger to straight porn and he's damn proud of that fact, so he's well aware that there are almost as many kinds of straight porn as there are people that watch it. Really, the fact that there are about a billion different kinds of videos here with every body type and sex act you can think of featuring two (or more) men should have been expected. Still, he's got to admit that he's a little overwhelmed. Since he's also determined – and if he's quite honest, at least half hard just from the sheer buffet of naked skin in front of him – Dean decides to just pick a video and watch. He'll refine his tastes later.

The first one doesn't do all that much for him. I mean, yay for enthusiastic blow jobs and all, but only about 30 seconds worth of the clip rolls by before Dean clicks back to the main page, deciding that overly muscular, tatted-up guys are apparently not his 'thing'. Neither are beardy/hairy "bear"-type guys, it would seem, if his lack of reaction to the second video is anything to go by. Unsurprising but hey, he might as well explore. The next one sparks his interest for a little longer: the guy who seems to be in charge in this one has a slimmer build, lean but toned, and definitely an I Don't Put Up with Your Bullshit kind of guy. Dean has to admit that he's impressed that the guy manages to pull off the No Bullshit vibe with a dick in his mouth, but somehow the dude makes it work.

Another couple more discarded videos go by before Dean starts to realize there's a pattern to what catches his interest. Not that he'd admit it out loud, but it seems like he has a bit of a kink for authority figures. Huh, go figure. The idea teases a grin out of Dean considering that he's usually a sarcastic dick to actual authority figures while pretending to be an authority figure. Although Sam's a nerd with an obvious hot-for-teacher hang up, so maybe it's not all that surprising that Dean has developed a thing for guys that wouldn't take any shit. That thought definitely gets the blood pumping.

It takes another few minutes for Dean to realize that he's unconsciously chosen four videos now that feature the two guys in it basically fighting each other before things get handsy, and then when things do get handsy, Dean's breath usually hiccups in his chest when one of the dudes gets pinned to a wall, bed, table or whatever and held down while sexy times ensue. Okay, so yeah, definite authority kink. Somewhere in the back of his head, he calls up Cas's voice growling, "You should show me some respect; I pulled you out of Hell, I can throw you back in." It takes at least 20 seconds of mentally reliving the intensity of that blue-eyed stare before Dean catches up to the fact that he's palming his rock-hard erection while fantasizing about his best friend threatening him. While watching gay porn.

If it were actually an option, Dean would probably consider therapy at this point. Instead, Dean decides to queue up a video entitled "AnGeL Takes It Up his H0t Tw1nk $$". Because that can't possibly be a bad idea.

The 'angel' turns out to be a guy with a pair of pitch-black feathered wings tattooed across his back and down his arms, but the guy has a slim build and dark, tousled hair, and Jesus Christ on Toast, this is definitely a bad idea. Dean doesn't click away though, and he finds himself watching as the 'angel' sinks to his knees and frees his partner's stupidly large cock from a battered pair of jeans. Pink lips stretch across the faceless guy's length and the sight transfixes Dean; he's not even bothering to resist stroking his hand along the ridge his erection makes in his boxers. By the time Twink Angel clambers onto his hands and knees and fixes the camera with a fierce gaze, Dean strokes his cock through the thin cotton with one hand while groping towards the drawer of his nightstand for lube with the other. He bobbles the bottle when there is a sudden extreme close-up of Giant Cock's fingers plunging into Twink Angel's ass. More than a little shocked, Dean winces in sympathy.

"Dude. One finger at a time, man," Dean admonishes Giant Cock (whose face he still hasn't seen, although obviously it's not his most important feature). "You can't just jump straight to two. Especially if you're not lubing that shit up." Dean's not exactly an expert, but still.

Twink Angel doesn't seem to mind, but Dean finds himself at least a little relieved when Giant Cock at least gets a little spit involved, even though he's never personally liked the idea of spitting on someone he's fucking. Heat of the moment though, he guesses. Twink Angel's squirms and little noises of frustration make it clear that it's not quite enough though, because you finally see Giant Cock's face … when he spreads the angel's cheeks with his fingers and drags a long, pointed tongue up the crack of the slimmer man's ass, drawing a ragged moan from somewhere off camera.

"Fucking—" Dean begins but can't bring himself to finish because little punched out moans and groans are coming from his speakers now as Giant Cock starts circling his tongue over the angel's entrance, and Dean is holding his breath so he doesn't miss hearing a single one of them.

He fumbles when he reaches for the lube bottle again because he doesn't want to tear his eyes from the screen. Not even taking the time to shimmy out of his boxers, Dean maneuvers his cock out through the slit in the front, dousing his hand with way too much lube; he can't be bothered to care because the angel on his screen writhes and moans and thrusts his hips back against Giant's face, and Dean bangs his head backward into the wall a couple of times just to give himself something to focus on other than how quickly he's racing towards coming. His strokes are fast and uneven, squeezing too hard on some and not enough on others but it doesn't fucking matter, he feels like he's going to come in about three minutes flat. The screen in front of him shows that they've gotten down to the actual fucking now, but Dean barely registers it. Instead, he drops his head back to the wall and slams his eyes shut, unable to help the tidal wave of visions showing Cas kneeling on the bed in front of him, ass up and face buried in the covers as Dean laves his actual angel's entrance with his tongue, clutching and kneading at the globes of Cas's ass with greedy hands. Grunts and slaps of skin from the video underpin his little fantasy, echoing from where his laptop practically burns his legs but Dean doesn't fucking care. He tries to imagine what the deep rumble of Cas's whiskey-barrel voice would sound like when gruff with lust and impatience. Dean doesn't think he quite manages it, but the noises going on around him will be enough anyway.

Dean threads his left hand up the leg of his boxers and catches some of the excess lube and precome dripping down his length; without stopping to question why he's doing it, Dean uses the flat of his thumb to press up hard on that stretch of skin behind his balls and then circles his middle finger around his entrance for just a moment before he pushes just the tip inside. He lets out a strangled gasp and his hips leave the bed, head thunking back against the wall. Tightening his strokes, Dean pictures pressing the point of his tongue into Cas's tight furl of muscle and he only has to slide his finger in and out twice more before everything seizes and a white-hot sunburst blows behind his eyelids. His orgasm goes on for far longer than he would have imagined possible. When the twitch and jerk of his hips finally stops, he looks down ruefully at the splashes of come across his boxers as well as his stomach. Damn it, he's going to have to get up and do laundry right away, because that's usually Sam's 'assigned' chore, and he really doesn't want to have to explain to his adult brother why he came all over his underwear like a fucking teenager.

Dean strips and redresses himself quickly and efficiently, running over the whole escapade in his head. Okay, another mind-blowing orgasm; always a plus. Discovered a completely unexpected kink for giving a rim job; a plus? Maybe? Potential plus, anyway. Probably warrants further investigation. On the down side, since this little foray once again veered heavily towards visions of Cas, Dean finds it hard to nail down whether he was aroused because of what he saw or because he tied it back to Cas. He had definitely seen some things that sparked his interest before the "angel" peaked it, but things hadn't escalated until he saw somebody that reminded him of Cas. Which wasn't exactly a bad thing, really, but Dean is starting to get the feeling that this may be more about more than just Dean's 'bond' to Cas.

As Dean strips his bed, gathers up his clothes, and hauls a load of whites down to the laundry room, he can only really think of one way to make it obvious. Now all he needs is to find a case that gives him a viable reason to head out towards Atlanta. Dean knows exactly where to go to get things straight – no pun intended.