A/N: Hi guys! I want to make sure I'm not losing anyone here. Is this stuff okay? Is there anything anyone predicts will happen? I'm not quite done writing yet, so if you want to see something happen in this, let me know in case I have room for it!
Now, in this episode- the smut arrives! Yay!
Chapter Seven
Several more days passed and Castiel was pulled farther and farther into Dean's spell. He found himself marveling at how amazing Dean was multiple times a day, in multiple ways. He was so self-deprecating, but incredibly smart. He was attentive, but independent. He was open and honest with Castiel, and the Novak was starting to forget why he was resisting at all.
It was the next Tuesday that Dean announced that they were going to have to work late.
"I found all your handwritten files," he stared at Castiel, who raised an eyebrow.
"Well done?" he asked more than stated. What did this mean?
Dean huffed. "Let me rephrase that. I found eight years worth of handwritten stuff that needs to be put on a computer."
Castiel slumped in his chair. "Really?" He didn't have anything to do that evening, but it sounded like hours of work.
Dean rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. Two questions: do you have whiskey, and when is it appropriate to start drinking?"
Castiel chuckled and handed Dean his card with the order to get whatever he wanted for dinner and bring back a good bottle. Dean brought back two gigantic bacon cheeseburgers and a large bottle of twelve year old Bulleit Rye. Dean held up the bag and the bottle, and Castiel groaned in appreciation.
It took a full hour to haul every box of paper from a storage room on the floor below. Castiel could have asked some of his employees for more help, but he didn't. Maybe it was the thought of taking on a big project with only Dean that drove him to push on, and he didn't mind the physical work.
Every last box was up in Castiel's office nearly an hour later, and employees were starting to leave for the day. Dean, however, was just settling in with his burger, a spot for Castiel set up on the chair next to him.
"This is an excellent cheeseburger," Castiel commented around a mouthful of meat, bread, and toppings. "Where did you get it?"
"Roadhouse," Dean swallowed thickly. "Wait til you taste the whiskey."
They got to work, sorting through what seemed to be every piece of paper Castiel ever owned. They worked, but they also talked. And laughed. Castiel didn't even have a whole glass of whiskey in him, but he felt pleasantly warm.
He had shed his jacket and removed his blue tie. Dean's jacket was off and his tie was gone, thrown somewhere along with his jacket. His sleeves were rolled up, wonderfully toned forearms working to move stacks of paper and boxes. They had been playing that stupid question game again, and Castiel was ridiculously pleased about it.
"Tell me about your last relationship," Dean asked him.
Castiel actually had to think hard about that. "The last real relationship... Oh, that would be Ezekiel." Castiel spoke his thoughts aloud. "I was just out of grad school, and he interned at the firm I'd just been hired in. Lasted about seven months, I think." His relationship attempts had been pitiful. Ezekiel had been nearly ten years ago. A whole decade, and none of his potential partners ever amounted to anything. That's why he'd stopped looking.
"A while, huh?" Dean sipped his own whiskey, nodding.
"And yourself, Dean?" Castiel asked, curious.
Dean colored a little, and not from the one glass of whiskey he'd had. "I, uh, I dated a girl named Lisa my junior year of high school."
Castiel's brow furrowed. "Is your preference of men a recent thing?"
Dean set his glass down and leaned back in his chair. "No, I just... I didn't think it would be best if my dad knew."
Castiel offered him a sympathetic smile. If only he'd been able to keep quiet like Dean. "And after your father died? Did you not find anyone to pursue?"
Dean gave a nervous chuckle and averted his eyes. "I actually haven't ever been with a guy. You know. In that way."
Oh. Oh. Castiel's lips parted in shock, and he could almost feel his pupils dilate. So, in that sense, Dean was a virgin. Fuck. The images that assaulted his head were dizzying, nearly making his knees buckle.
He decided it would be best to sit on the floor now. Dean had never been with a man. Never given a blowjob, didn't know what it felt like to be opened up and filled until he thought he might rip in two- God dammit.
Castiel was sure that Dean could read his every thought as it passed over his face, but the younger man didn't seem afraid or uncomfortable. He just looked at Castiel with a little half smile on his face.
After a second, Dean hefted a box of papers in his hands and stood, probably going to take it across the room. Instead, he slipped on a few stray sheets and fell directly to the ground. The papers fluttered up and Dean sat on the ground, his lips in a surprised 'o'.
Castiel couldn't help it- he burst out laughing. So hard, in fact, that he tipped over to the ground. Dean begun to laugh too, and somehow they were next to each other, sides pressed together. Castiel turned and stopped laughing.
He and Dean were horizontal. He was propped up next to Dean's prone form, the man staring up at him with something akin to awe in his eyes.
Castiel was barely aware that one of his hands had come up to rest comfortably on Dean's stomach. He barely registered that their faces were mere inches apart. All he knew was the heat radiating between them and the ache that could only be soothed by Dean.
Dean's pillowy lips were parted and his pupils blown wide. His green eyes, beautiful emeralds and hunter and gold, darted down to Castiel's lips. Had he licked them? He wouldn't be surprised. Dean's hand came up to rest on Castiel's bicep, fingers firm.
"Dean," Castiel breathed. He didn't have anything to follow that with. He was just saying that beautiful name. Dean.
"Kiss me," Dean commanded. Castiel heard the two words and something inside him snapped.
It was instantaneous. Castiel's lips were on his and it was glorious. His mouth moulded around the Novak's, insistent. Dean was making these beautiful breathy sighs and Castiel drank them down like water in the desert. He could feel his own unconscious humming reverberate in his chest.
Kissing Dean was like stepping foot in a beautiful chapel, if he were as devout as he was to Dean. It filled him with a tingling sun-warmth presence that trickled down all the way to his toes. His hand slid from Dean's stomach to his hip, and Dean pulled at the front of his shirt, fabric gripped firmly in one hand. His knee rested between Dean's legs and he let a bit of his weight press onto the man beneath him.
If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight.
Dean arched into him. He tightened his grip on Castiel's shirt and slid his other hand into his messy black hair, fingers tangling desperately.
Castiel slid his tongue along the seam of Dean's lips and the Winchester accepted it eagerly into his mouth. Dean tasted even more amazing than Castiel fantasized about. He was all whiskey and honey and spice and something that made Castiel's head spin. If he could bottle the taste of Dean and sell it, he'd make billions, but he wanted it all to himself.
Dean nipped at his bottom lip and Castiel groaned, letting more of his weight fall on top of Dean. The younger man's hips were pushing into his thigh, a diamond-hard length rubbing almost painfully against the layers of fabric separating them. Castiel flexed his own hips, showing Dean just how much he had affected him as well.
Dean made a noise low in his throat and began to squirm against the Novak, frantically searching for more friction. Castiel pulled Dean flush against him, manhandling the man until he could stand, the Winchester clinging to him.
Castiel managed a few steps before sitting back into the cushioned chair, pulling Dean firmly into his lap. Dean broke away from Castiel's lips, and the Novak almost seized up in panic. Thankfully, Dean reattached his lips to the juncture between Castiel's neck and shoulder, hot tongue flicking against the thin skin. Castiel let out a rumbling groan, thankful that the building was empty now.
Dean shifted forward into his lap, bringing their matching erections together. Dean grunted into the Novak's neck. It was then that he realized that there was that whole expanse of skin that Castiel hadn't explored before, and with little preamble, he pulled the end of Dean's shirt out of his slacks.
Dean's skin was so soft and warm, stretching wonderfully over built muscle. Castiel felt it shift and jump under his palms as he mapped out every inch of Dean's back. The Winchester leaned back, hands flying to the buttons of Castiel's shirt. He was surprised at the deftness of Dean's fingers; in seconds, his shirt was wide open with Dean's exploring hands everywhere.
Castiel was quick to mirror Dean, undoing his buttons with a ferocity he didn't know he had. Dean's toned abs were revealed and Castiel pressed his fingers into him, enjoying the hitch in Dean's breathing. He was burning hot and Castiel mouthed at his neck, drinking in his taste.
My church offers no absolutes, she tells me 'worship in the bedroom'.
He nipped and sucked and licked his way along Dean's clavicle, relishing in his breathy moans. On a whim, he pulled Dean further into him and bent his head to flick his tongue against Dean's pebbled nipple. The responding "Aaah!" spurred him on, sucking the pink flesh into his mouth. His teeth grazed over it, and Dean whimpered.
Castiel offered the other nipple to the same treatment, only breaking contact when Dean rutted against him. "Cas," he groaned. "I need..."
"What do you need, Dean?" he growled, gripping Dean's hips tightly and rolling his own against them.
"I, fuck, I need you," he panted, threading his fingers through the Novak's dark locks.
Their mouths collided again, Castiel's tongue mapping Dean's mouth. If there was one thing Castiel do it was multitask. His hands slid down Dean's chiseled torso to his belt buckle. Slowly, so Dean could move away if he wanted to, Castiel freed the leather and popped the button, tracing the bits of skin revealed.
Dean rutted forward, and Castiel finally pulled the zipper down, relieving the building pressure. He palmed Dean through the thin line of his briefs and swallowed the wanton moans the action drew out of him.
"You too," he mumbled, his grip on Castiel's hair the only thing anchoring him.
Castiel quickly undid his own belt and slacks, going so far as to free himself from the confines of his underwear. Dean rolled his hips against him again, and Castiel gasped, the contact so much better than he imagined, even if it was still through a layer of fabric.
His hand slipped into Dean's briefs and grasped his length firmly. The reaction was perfect- Dean arched towards him with a whimper, biting down on Castiel's lip. Castiel felt his moan vibrate in his chest.
There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin.
Castiel wanted to taste Dean, but there was no time, only need. He pulled Dean completely free of the fabric and circled both of their impressive lengths in one hand, the friction sending sparks up his spine.
"Fuck," Dean choked, bucking up into Castiel's hand.
There was enough precome dripping between the two of them to ease the slide of Castiel's fist. He started the pace slow, but he knew it wouldn't last long.
"God fuck Cas," Dean babbled, burying his head into the Novak's neck.
"Dean," Cas drew out the syllable, twisting his hand on the upstroke.
His movements sped up rapidly, Castiel mouthing at the muscle of Dean's shoulder. "I can't... Cas..." Dean's voice was almost pained with need.
Castiel snuck his hand down from Dean's waist in between his cheeks, brushing lightly at his furled entrance. "Come for me, Dean," Castiel growled, and Dean complied with a muffled shout, vibrating with his release.
The pulsing of Dean's length and knowledge that he was the first one that had ever touched Dean in such an intimate place send him over the edge, his very skin lit on fire with the force of his pleasure.
They came down slowly, and Dean leaned his forehead against Castiel's. They were silent for several long moments. "Wanted this for so long," Dean murmured, kissing Castiel gently.
The Novak stroked Dean's jaw with his clean hand, enjoying the moment for as long as he could. Dean was boneless against him, just really sliding his lips over Castiel's, not even a kiss. Just contact. Intimacy.
Castiel had never felt so whole in his entire life. He felt as if in that moment, his spirit was unblemished, absolved of all sins by this perfect man petting the hair at the nape of his neck.
I was born sick, but I love it.
A painful edge moved through Castiel's sated haze. They couldn't do this again. There were so many reasons why they couldn't. And honestly, no matter how Dean made him feel, his sins could never be absolved. His spirit would remain blemished forever, and Dean didn't deserve that. He should be with someone just as bright and strong as he is.
Castiel let out a slow breath. At least Dean had a good first experience. He could at least give him that- a good memory to build his future encounters on.
He soaked in the feeling of Dean in his arms for as long as he could before pulling away from the kiss. He memorized Dean's face then, how it looked full of contentment and affection. He memorized that look given to him. He moved his thumb across Dean's bottom lip, which parted automatically. He gave Castiel an easy smile, but the Novak's face remained impassive.
Dean's brows furrowed, and Castiel dropped his hand. "We should get cleaned up," he said quietly, glancing at the sticky mess on their stomachs.
Dean was still giving him a confused look, a tiny bit of hurt on his features, but Castiel ignored the sharp pang of sadness and guilt in his chest.
When they were sure the coast was clear, the two slipped into the men's restroom and washed off as best they could, donning their shirts quickly. The mess of papers on Castiel's floor was forgotten, and they both walked silently to the parking garage with their belongings.
It came time for them to go to their separate cars, and Dean turned to Castiel.
"Cas-"
"I will see you tomorrow," Castiel cut him off.
Dean recoiled, as if Castiel had slapped him. The Novak forced his features to remain impassive, even though he could feel the warm sting behind his eyes. He turned quickly, offering Dean no good night as he always did. He couldn't, he just couldn't.
He slid into the front seat of his Corolla and turned over the engine, but didn't move to drive away. It wasn't until he heard the roar of Dean's Impala fade into the distance that he buckled his seatbelt and shifted in reverse.
Offer me that deathless death, good god, let me give you my life.
