Summary:
Castiel comes to terms with his jealousy and figures out how to alleviate his frustrations. ;)
(I don't think Dean's going to complain one little bit)
Notes:
This Chapter is NSFW! You've been warned!
Um... enjoy. ;)
Dragon Age (Cocktails and Cheese) / Supernatural Crossover
Chapter 7
Knockin' on Heaven's Door
Castiel and Cullen watched Dean and Jo practice with Alistair behind the bar for the better part of an hour. They looked to be having a good time: laughing and joking about. The few times that Alistair touched Dean to correct his stance or direct his posture, Castiel felt his chest tighten with that unfamiliar jealous heat—even after Cullen's reassurances. Coupled with how amazing Dean looked dancing behind the counter, Castiel was a mess of want and possessiveness.
When they finished their lesson—amongst cheers from the crowd—Dean and Alistair returned to the table, while Jo went back to waiting tables. Castiel barely registered Alistair slipping into the booth next to Cullen; his eyes narrowed on Dean who stood at the end of the bench, flushed and smiling, with one eyebrow raised in question.
Slowly sliding out of his seat, Castiel grabbed Dean's wrist and growled quietly into his ear, "You need to come with me… now." The whimper Dean emitted was audible only to Castiel's sensitive hearing and went straight to his cock as he pulled Dean along toward the employees only area of the bar.
"Uh, guys. We'll be right back." Dean said quickly over his shoulder as he was unceremoniously dragged away.
Castiel led Dean to the storeroom in the back. Locking the door behind them, he surveyed their surroundings.
"Cass?"
Smiling wickedly at something behind Dean, Castiel sealed their lips together possessively, fingers fisted tightly in Dean's sweaty hair. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he chastised between kisses, pushing Dean backward step-by-step. "We are in the middle of a very serious case. There isn't time to be this distracted-or this aroused. And yet here you are, flaunting yourself and flirting, making me both."
He pushed Dean down into an old wooden chair that was sitting against the back wall. He stood with one leg on either side of Dean's lap. "Look at me, Dean."
Dean raised his eyes to meet Castiel's.
"No, Dean." Castiel reprimanded. "I said look at me." He began to caress the obvious bulge in the front of his slacks, just inches from Dean's face.
"Fuck," Dean whispered as Castiel continued to outline the hard ridges with his long fingers.
"There's no time for that now. But, I do think we should do something about this… don't you?"
Dean nodded, then slowly ran both hands up the back of Castiel's thighs and gripped his ass. He leaned in to mouth over Castiel's erection, but Castiel dropped himself onto Dean's lap and sealed their lips together in a heated kiss instead.
"Do you know what's going to happen when we get back to the bunker, Beloved?"
Dean moaned as Castiel ground their erections together, shaking his head.
"I'm going to take you apart piece by piece and put you back together again, like I did when I raised you from perdition. Only this time, there will be no gripping tight, Dean. No touching yourself at all. I'm going to open you up with my fingers and tongue. Then I'm going to use our large plug and fuck you with it until you're on the very edge where I'll stop and leave it deep inside, filling you so full. Would you like that, my love?"
He swallowed audibly, nodding, and tried to thrust up into each roll of Castiel's hips; seeking more friction, seeking more anything . "Cass, please," he begged.
"Shhh, baby. Not yet. Soon." Castiel kissed him deeply, then nibbled his way down his neck grinding harder. "After I've got you suitably debauched, you're going to lay there and watch while I get myself open and ready for you. No touching. I want you to see what you do to me, how much I want you-my cock ridged and leaking as I stroke myself slowly, three fingers buried deep in my ass. Once I'm ready, Dean, I will climb on top of you and ride you until I come screaming your name, and only then will you be allowed to come. Do you hear me, my dearest? Only when I say, will you be allowed to come."
Breaths coming in quick gasps now, Dean could barely contain his release. "Please, Cass. So close." His fingers were gripping Castiel's hips so tight, if it were anyone else, he would have left bruises.
"You like the sound of that. Don't you? Me fucking myself on you until we both come."
"Yes, baby. So much." Dean panted, his face scrunched together in pleasure and pain.
"You are so good for me, beloved. So beautiful, so perfect. Come for me, Dean. Let go, give this to me, now."
Dean stilled below him, his body going rigid with his orgasm. The look of pure rapture that crossed his face was everything Castiel needed and he followed soon after. Thrusting through their release, Castiel rested his forehead against Dean's as they slowly caught their breath.
Finally opening his eyes, Castiel caught the questioning look from his husband. "Not that I'm complaining, Angel. But, where did all that come from?"
Castiel bowed his head in shame.
"Holy, Chuck! You were jealous!" Dean started laughing.
"It's not funny, Dean. I had all these conflicting feelings going through me—how hot you looked dancing behind the bar and how much I really didn't like seeing Alistair touch you—and I didn't know what to do about it."
"Baby, you know you're it for me, right? I would never—"
"I know, Dean, but even still." Castiel took a deep breath, then looked down at the wet spots seeping through their clothes. "I think we made a mess." Castiel raised two fingers and with a brief touch to Dean's forehead, cleaned them both up.
"Ya think?" Dean snorted, then they both started laughing. Wrapping his arms around Castiel, he hugged him tight until their giggles subsided. As they started to catch their breath, the chair beneath them gave an ominous-sounding squeak.
Standing just in time, the chair crashed to the ground in a splintered heap, which caused them to start laughing all over again.
"I think we broke the chair, Dean." Castiel grinned. "Do you think I should fix it?"
"Really, dude? No. Just leave it."
"But, Dean? That wasn't our chair, we can't leave it like that."
"Yes. Yes we can. C'mon, we gotta get back. Those two are probably wondering what happened to us."
Castiel blushed.
"What? Cass, what'd you do?"
"This may have been Cullen's idea."
"Wait, what? He told you to drag me back here and have your way with me?"
"Well, no. Not exactly. We were discussing how he manages to cope with his occasional jealousy… and he said he gets through it with lots of really amazing sex." Castiel looked up with a grin. "I have to agree with him; I am feeling much better already."
Dean threw his head back and laughed.
Leaving the broken chair behind, they left the room, hand-in-hand and returned to the table looking a little more disheveled than when they left.
Cullen watched them approach with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk.
Alistair high-fived Dean across the table. "I can't tell you how many times I've been dragged off between shows." He grinned at Cullen. "Judging by how disheveled their hair is, I'd hate to see the room they just emerged from." He tossed back a shot that was waiting for them on the table and Cullen tried to cover his laugh with a cough.
"Yeah, yeah, you two. Laugh it up," Dean said. "I can honestly say there are worse ways to end a shift at the bar."
Castiel took a swig of his beer while the others chuckled. Ellen suddenly appeared at the edge of their table, looking pissed. She smacked Dean in the back of the head.
"Ow! What was that for?" he asked, rubbing his head.
"You broke my chair," she said, then pointed a finger at Castiel. "And I expected better from you!"
Both Dean and Castiel looked down, abashed. "We're sorry, Ellen," they said in unison.
"If we didn't need you out there fighting so badly, I'd do a whole hell of a lot worse to you. Cass, go fix the damn chair. Dean, next time, keep it in your pants."
"But, it never left my—"
"Nope! Nuh-uh. I don't wanna hear it!" She turned and surreptitiously winked at Alistair and Cullen before walking off with a smirk.
End Notes:
Thank you to my writing group The Keystrokes who helped brainstorm with me and who are ultimately to blame for the poor broken chair, the clothed frottage, and a few other key points that happened in this chapter. :)
And, as always, my eternal gratitude goes out to Ponticle for just being the best, bad ass editor a humble writer could ask for.
