The Daily Grind
Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language, Smex, Porn, Likely a huge misunderstanding of the industry, Prejudices, Bigotry, Likely a breach of contracts and stuff like that, Angst, Love.
Summary: Castiel Novak, down on his luck and in desperate need of money, goes to a porn suite that will give him $1000 for a good day's work. There he meets Dean Winchester, a man who's about to rock his world.
[info]sarahlizzie is the best beta ever (:
First time writing phone sex. Be gentle. (: Also, I wrote this listening to Catholic 'Jesus' music. I'm a horrible person who will have lovely riverside property in Hell, feel free to join me!
Castiel had debated over actually helping Dean up to his apartment, because the guy looked unsteady on his feet and Castiel kinda doubted his ability to make it safely to his apartment. However, Dean managed to get into the front entrance, and the rest was an elevator, so…
Castiel was a block away from his building when his cell went off. He checked the caller ID before pulling over, seeing it was Dean. What the… "Hello?" he asked, a little unsure as he pulled into an available parking spot, unbuckling his seat belt and fully prepared for a long drunken conversation because he'd been on the receiving end of many prank/drunken phone calls from his roommate from college and parties that he hadn't gone to.
"Hey. Cas…" Dean sounded wasted, his voice a mixture between a low rumble and a gasp, and Castiel's libido totally didn't kick-start into action at that – because that was just inappropriate. "What's up?"
Oh. Wow. It was going to be one of those conversations. "Um…not much, Dean – what's up with you?" he asked, slouching a little in the seat, because he knew drunk people tended to ramble, and besides, even if they ended up talking about nothing, it was nice to hear Dean's voice…it was nice to be on the end of some affection, no matter how small an amount. "Are you in your apartment?"
"'M on my bed," Dean replied, with a little giggle, before his breath hitched in a sound that Castiel had become very intimate with over their time together. "Been thinking about you," he drawled, and Castiel shifted a little, hearing Dean's voice lower to a deep, bass rumble that was just rough and smooth and gritty and sexy as hell.
"R…Really?" Castiel stuttered, unsure what to do with himself. His pants felt tight, and God he was not going to listen to Dean on his phone while still in his car on the side of the street where anyone could see him. "As friends?" he asked, half-hopeful that Dean would just…fall in a coma. Or something. This was as uncomfortable as it was hot.
Dean chuckled – a low, beautiful sound that was music to Castiel's ears. "I don't think friends do what I'm thinking about doing to you right now…" Then, there was a low growl through the phone, and Castiel's breath hitched so hard he damn near choked.
Oh this was not happening. "And what are you thinking about doing to me, Dean?" Against his will, Castiel's voice was lowering; he sat up straighter in his car, rubbing himself through his jeans absently as he listened to Dean's breathing pick up on the other end of the phone. "Thinking about fucking me, want me underneath you, all moaning and begging for you, sweaty and desperate for it?"
"God, Cas…"
"Touch yourself, Dean, and imagine it's me," Castiel ordered, loving how Dean's breathing was heavy and uneven in his ear. He closed his eyes, hearing the creak of the bed and imagining he was pushing Dean down onto it, covering that beautiful golden body that he'd loved and missed so much. "Want you to run your hand up your chest – don't take anything off yet – and play with one of your nipples. Do it like I do; pinch one of them like I'm biting them, flicking and sucking until it's all red and sensitive and then I'm licking it with my tongue." Dean moaned low and long into the phone, and Castiel smirked a little. "Come on, Dean, tell me how you're feeling, right now."
Dean growled into the phone; "God, Cas, you feel so good, your mouth. Fuck…" Okay, so maybe the alcohol was affecting Dean's ability to speak, but that was okay, because Castiel had more than enough he wanted Dean to do, while he could;
"I'm trailing down now, Dean. I know where you want my mouth more – I'm licking and biting at you. God, love how you taste, Dean – love it like fucking air – and I'll undo your jeans really slowly – teasing you."
"God," Dean growled, "fucking tease."
"You love it," came Castiel's smooth reply, as the older man dug the heel of his palm into his erection to try and keep him orgasm at bay – just hearing Dean like this, all vulnerable and wanton from just his imagined touch, made him want to speed over to the man's apartment and make him Castiel's, all over again. "Now take your cock out, Dean, stroke yourself nice and slow for me." Dean's breath hitched again, and Castiel knew his orders were being obeyed, and he smiled against the phone. "What do you want, Dean? Want me to fuck you nice and slow, hmm? Get you all slick and open so that I can slide right in and fuck you until you can't move?"
"Cas…" Desperate then, Dean's voice was wrecked and he sounded so fucking wanton. "Fuck, please…Cas."
"Shh, Dean, it's alright," Castiel purred into Dean's ear, smiling as he heard the man whimper. "Take your jeans off for me, baby, let me see you. Are you wearing underwear?" he asked once the telltale sound of dropping clothes had stopped. Dean growled out a low 'No' and Castiel smirked; "Just a little eager slut for it, aren't you?"
"Fuck, Cas…Please, please fuck me. Need you so bad…"
"I know, Dean, I know." And there's no way to describe the warmth spreading through Castiel at Dean's broken begging, and it was probably fucked up but he didn't care – this was him, getting to have Dean all over again. "Gonna stretch you open, now, get you nice and ready for my cock. Want you to lube up my fingers for me," Castiel all but growled into the phone, listening to the deafening sound of a bottle of lube opening and closing and being tossed away, then the slight shift of Dean moving to a more comfortable position to stretch himself. "Start with just one, baby, and push in nice and slow…let me hear you."
Dean whimpered as the first finger breached him, closing his eyes as he imagined Castiel's hard body behind his back, a mesh of lines and muscle against Dean, warm and beautiful, his breath on the back of Dean's neck and his fingers in Dean's ass. "I'm gonna crook my fingers just a little bit -." Dean's breath hitched, he let out a broken moan, and Castiel knew he'd found the 'spot'. "There we go," Castiel purred into the phone, settling back in his car seat as he finally gave attention to his own rock-hard cock, pulling it out with a low hiss as he began to stroke himself, knowing he wouldn't last long with Dean making those delicious little whimpers and moans into his ear. "Add another finger for me, Dean, come on."
The younger man slid another finger in, scissoring and stretching himself out. "Fuck, Castiel, come on, please…"
"How close are you, baby?" Castiel growled, his hips bucking into his fist as he tightened his grip, throwing his head back against the headrest. Dean's breath hitched into his ear, groaning low under his breath. "Come on – tell me – how close?"
"Really…fucking…Cas."
"Come for me, Dean. Right the fuck now," Castiel growled, moving his fist faster and ignoring the knowledge that he was right next to a busy sidewalk and anyone could look in right then and see him jacking himself off, and listened to Dean as he lost control without Castiel even being there. It was a thrill unlike anything Castiel had done – he'd become a lot more adventurous, obviously, with Dean – he wouldn't have even thought about doing something like this with anyone else. Dean hissed when he pulled his fingers out, panting into the phone when Castiel came, covering his hand and his pants with his come – and that would be awkward, walking into his building with a wet spot – but he didn't really fucking care right then.
When they were both breathing normally again, Dean broke the silence; "I miss you, Cas," he whispered, sounding so young and vulnerable that Castiel wanted nothing more than to gather him close and hold him, but he couldn't – they were blocks away from each other.
"I miss you too, Dean," Castiel breathed, eyes closing, and he smiled when they just kept sitting, silent, listening to each other as though they were both there, and it was painful, knowing that they weren't. "I'll see you tomorrow at work." He opened his eyes, looking around and really hoping he hadn't been caught. No one was outside his car giving disapproving glares, so he figured he was safe – he tucked himself back in, wiping the come from his hand and restarting his car.
"Yeah, Cas. See you tomorrow."
"I love you, Dean."
A pause. "Love you too, Cas." Then, Dean hung up, and Castiel pulled back into traffic to drive the last little bit to his building, ready to face the new week and feeling more nervous about it, because now things had gotten a whole lot more complicated.
Michael was…miserable. Lucifer had come back the next day during visiting hours, and though he was amiable enough, Michael just wanted to…talk. He wanted to know his brother again, and wanted to know what Lucifer had been doing with his life.
The man wasn't very cooperative. All Michael got to know was that Lucifer had gone to college in Europe, had travelled around looking for work and finally found some in Australia working as a lifeguard in a hotel in Cairns. Lucifer was…a totally different person. Michael remembered his little brother as this beautiful, vibrant being who always had something to say, never hesitated to say it, and had wit as quick and sharp as anyone could hope to have. He always smiled – this Lucifer hadn't smiled in a genuine way in a long time. The second day he'd visited, he brought his dog – a beautiful thing that was bright and sharp and seemed happy enough to hang around Michael's legs, curling underneath his chair like he belonged there, and though Michael didn't know if that raised him in Lucifer's eyes, he liked it on a weird level that the dog seemed to approve.
"He doesn't normally like people," Lucifer had commented, despite the fact that the dog seemed friendly enough. "At least, he prefers me to them."
"I guess I make good first impressions."
Lucifer smirked slightly – a hard, bitter expression that Michael hated. "Yes, I suppose you do."
"I miss you, Luci," Michael said, voice low as he reached forward, sliding his hand along the table and feeling pain when Lucifer pulled away so they wouldn't touch. "Every day after you left, I looked for you, and I called, and I just wanted…God, I wanted you back. Please, Lucifer, you know why I couldn't…why I didn't…" He ran his hands through his hair, sighing heavily as he looked down, then back up at the other man. "Please. You know my reasons."
"I came to accept them, yes," Lucifer said, leaning on the back two legs of his chair, fingers lacing in front of him. "I accepted, and I understood, but you can't expect me to just come back and have everything be as it was when we were teenagers, Michael. That ship sailed a long time ago."
"I don't even remember raising the anchor," Michael replied softly, looking down at the hard galvanized steel of the table. "I never wanted to."
"Well. That was your decision." Lucifer stood, clicking for the dog to come to him, who did with a low head and hanging tail. "I'll be there for the court hearing, and then I'm out of here."
"What?"
"You heard me. I'm not here for some happy reunion. I'm here because for some stupid reason I feel obligated to make sure you don't land your sorry ass in jail, and I want to make sure you do. I loved you, and I still do as a brother, and that's all. I don't know what you're expecting from me, but I think you should drop those expectations as soon as you can so you don't end up getting hurt." Then, he left, his dog padding behind him, but because the animal was much more reluctant to go than he was, it took a long while for them to walk back out of the prison.
He was drunk. Really, really wasted. He probably doesn't even remember. God, I hope he doesn't. Or maybe he does… Castiel was somewhat nervous going into the studio that day. He hadn't been this off-balance since the first day he'd met Dean. Dean…God, what had happened last night had totally…well, been amazing, but what if Dean regretted it? Or worse (better?) didn't even remember?
How the hell were they able to stay just friends if they kept sleeping together?
Castiel's first video today was with Dean. Apparently the viewers had loved the idea of Dean bottoming so much to Castiel that they'd requested another. This time it was going to be an 'amateur' kind of setting, apparently. They had to leave the studio for this one – they'd be doing it a warehouse outside of town, as a kind of 'voyeur' angle thing, apparently. As Castiel understood it, anyway.
Dean sauntered up to him once he came in, hands in his pockets and a small grin on his face. "Hey, Cas," he said, and he sounded like he had a sore throat from the night before…which kind of gave Castiel ideas. He smiled back, coming closer to the younger man. "It's just going to be you, me, and a camera in the corner," he said, and he didn't seem…nervous, or hesitant about it. Castiel bit his lip, knowing he was probably going to hate himself now, but;
"You don't regret it? Last night?" he asked, lowly whispering the words, practically breathing them against Dean's shoulder because he couldn't find it in himself to look Dean in the eye. "I mean. I totally understand if you do, but…" And he didn't know what he was saying, so he fell silent, blushing and knowing he was making a fool of himself.
Dean chuckled, taking Castiel's chin in his hand and tilting the older man's face up. "Listen, Cas, I called you last night because I needed you, and you answered. I'm grateful for it, and it was…fantastic," he said, voice lowering, and Castiel blushed, biting his lip because he never knew he had it in him to do something like that; "And I think, after we're done here, we can maybe…go out for dinner. Nothing fancy, just time to catch up. I want to know about everything I've been missing."
Castiel looked up, not even bothering to disguise the hope in his eyes and in his voice; "Really?" he asked. It had begun to seem like Dean would never forgive him, or let him back in, but here it was, right in front of him. Dean just smiled at him, and any reply was lost as the younger man leaned forward and kissed him, hand threading into the hair at the back of Castiel's head like it was meant to be there all the time, holding Castiel close as the older man's eyes fell closed, his lips parted and he lost himself in that kiss. It felt like coming home.
Sam was grinning when he practically skipped over to Gabriel, pulling his boyfriend away from the water cooler and kissing him breathless. When he let Gabriel pull away, the smaller man smirked a little up at him, bemused.
"What's up, Sammy?"
"Oh nothing," Sam said, taking Gabriel's hands and shrugging emphatically, bringing them with him. "Everything's just going right, you know? I walked in on Dean and Castiel making out – without cameras – so theoretically they're back together. And I don't know…I just feel fantastic." Gabriel smiled up at his boyfriend, glad to see Sammy so happy when for the past week he'd been the epitome of melancholy. He reached up (and up) and pulled Sam down for another kiss, grinning when Sam hummed against him.
"I'm glad you're happy," Gabriel replied, smiling despite himself because a happy Sam brightens up the entire room, and he had missed him. "Now if you could maybe put that happiness to better use…" He trailed off, grinning as he dipped his first two fingers in the front of Sam's jeans, pulling him forward, smirking up at Sam when the younger man flushed and grinned more widely at him, pulling him close by the hips.
"Hmm…I think I could handle that," Sam purred in reply, running his fingers through Gabriel's hair as the older man met him in a kiss. They couldn't get carried away (despite Gabriel's protestations) because Sam had somewhere to be, but that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy themselves until they were separated.
Which ended up happening sooner than they'd planned for, as Dean and Castiel came into the room, grinning and laughing and looking like nothing had happened between them except a mild spat. Forgiven, forgotten. Sam and Gabriel were surprised – but then again, not really – at the completely one-eighty Dean's emotions had taken, but they guessed when you loved someone that much, there's no amount of time or distance that'll take away from that love, or need for that someone.
"Hey, guys," Dean said, throwing his arm over Castiel's shoulder, holding the other man close to him. Castiel's smile was brighter than the freaking sun, finally in Dean's arms again after the torturous days spent apart. "How's it hanging?"
"It hasn't been hanging for a while, Dean-o," Gabriel remarked dryly; "In fact, it was pretty stiff until you walked in."
"Oh. Gross." Dean's nose wrinkled when Sam laughed, putting Gabriel in front of him so he could hold him from behind and not completely eclipse the smaller man. Sam rested his chin on Gabriel's head, something the older man hated him doing, and grinned when Gabriel huffed underneath his face, deliberately digging his elbows into Sam's side as retribution. The younger man shied away, then went right on doing it and grinned. "Anyway, guys, I was thinking we all go out for dinner after work again today – catch up. I wanna know about everything I've been missing," Dean continued, smiling a little, his arm tightening around Castiel as the older man flushed. Sam nodded, forcing Gabriel to do so right along with him.
"Sounds cool. Say 'Cattlemen's' at seven?"
"Awesome."
The little red blinking light was distracting. It was somehow harder to ignore than the masses of cameras and crew that accompanied a regular video. Now it seemed like it was just the two of them, and when it was the two of them Castiel had an embarrassing tendency to…well, not hide anything or hold back. He'd likely start begging for Dean's forgiveness or utter something equally personal that he didn't want on camera, and it wouldn't end well.
Dean was slow and methodical with him, like he was determined to learn Castiel all over again as he pushed the older man up against one of the girders holding the abandoned warehouse up. The place was lined with boxes, walls graffitied by the many teenagers that had used this place as a hideout, and in one of those piles of boxes the camera rested, just out of sight but not out of mind.
"Dean…" Castiel choked on a gasp when Dean's mouth sealed over his, and he missed those lips so much he burned with it. He growled against the younger man, hurriedly pushing his shirt up until it hit the resistance of Dean's arms, desperate to touch bare skin. Dean's back had become almost smooth from a long time going without any 'Downstairs' time, and he'd gotten paler from no time in the sun. "Fuck, Dean, clothes off."
Dean, the bastard, chuckled against his mouth, carding his fingers through Castiel's hair as though he had all the time in the world and didn't plan to do a damn thing about it. He moved back slightly, eyes hooded as he shrugged his shirt off, letting Castiel free movement to touch him; shoulders, that strong muscles back, down to the dips above Dean's ass, where Castiel gripped and ground against Dean's erection, one of the younger man's legs fitting just perfectly between his own for him to ride.
He moaned against Dean, a broken and needy sound as the younger man practically tore at his clothes, desperate to get them both naked, because behind the job they had to do here there was urgency, a need that wouldn't be denied until they'd become as close as they had once been. If Castiel had his way, he'd crawl inside of Dean and never come out, just live in that perfect codependency for the rest of his life.
Dean fell to his knees in front of Castiel, kissing down the man's chest as Castiel leaned back against the steel girder. It was cold and rusted, the flakes coming off against his back in a quite unpleasant way, but Castiel could only focused on the warm man in front of him, beautiful on his knees and looking up at Castiel like he couldn't imagine being anywhere else. Dean's vibrant green eyes burned into Castiel's as the younger man finally reached his cock, breathing on it through Castiel's jeans and making the man moan and buck against Dean. The younger man grinned, pressing the heel of his palm against Castiel's erection in a way that was, quite frankly, torture. Dean bit at the skin above Castiel's waistline, his warm breath just teasing him with the heat of that mouth, waiting…
"Fuck, Dean…"
"Fuck my mouth, Castiel. Come on," Dean growled, finally – fucking finally – opening Castiel's jeans quickly and deftly, freeing his cock from the confines and stroking just once, before he let go and gripped Castiel's thighs, waiting. "Want you to do it."
It took a moment for Castiel to realize what Dean was saying, and even then…God, Dean was going to kill him. He was sure of it – this was Dean getting his revenge. Death by sex combustion.
Castiel took his cock in hand, running the head over Dean's lips, making them all wet and shiny with his precome. Dean smiled encouragingly, licking his lips just a little, the tip of his tongue flicking over the head of Castiel's cock, and the older man sucked in a breath, his free hand threading through Dean's hair to the back of the man's head, getting a good grip before he fed Dean his cock. The younger man's lips parted eagerly for it, loose and wet and so fucking warm, Castiel had to grip himself to stop from coming right then and there. He gripped Dean's head with his other hand, giving an experimental shallow thrust into Dean's mouth. The younger man gagged a little, trying to pull back, and Castiel didn't let him – he withdrew his cock instead, letting Dean relax and get used to it before trying again. It took a while before the man relaxed enough for Castiel to really get a rhythm going, but once he did, fuck, was the power rush so worth it. Dean's mouth was all tight, wet suction, those pretty lips stretched wide around Castiel's cock as Castiel fucked into his mouth, keeping Dean's head still while he moved, Dean's hands digging into his thighs to keep him steady while he did so.
Just when he felt like he was about to come, he slowed himself down – and what an effort that took, let me tell you – to slow, deep thrusts that had Dean deep-throating him like a pro (which, really, he was). The younger man's eyes flashed up to his from beneath his lashes, and fuck, that was beautiful. Dean's tongue was doing things that should be illegal to Castiel, flicking at that sensitive spot under the head, licking around the vein, and…Jesus fuck, was that teeth?
"God…Dean…" Castiel's grip tightened just a little in Dean's hair – the only warning he got – before Castiel pulled out until just the head was in Dean's mouth, and came, loving the way the younger man's eyes fell closed, cheeks blushed and breathing heavy around him as he sucked Castiel through it, milking him for his come until Castiel thought he was going to collapse from overstimulation.
He pulled out, breathing just as heavily as Dean as he wiped the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead, and almost smirked when Dean adjusted himself in his jeans, getting to his feet in front of Castiel. "We weren't meant to do that," he noted dryly, and his voice was even lower and throatier than before, and that just gave Castiel's libido a good kick.
"Yeah, sorry," Castiel said, flushing slightly – because they were meant to have gone all the way. And he may have gotten a little carried away… "I guess Chuck'll just have to work with it."
"Or…" Dean raised an eyebrow, a sly grin on his face that Castiel was nervous about. "We could just…go again. How fast's your recovery time?" he asked, leaning closer against Castiel, pinning him to the girder, warm breath on Castiel's neck and the older man shivered.
"Pretty damn fast," Castiel confessed, and it seemed like it was true. Already his cock was giving valiant little twitches to try and rise again, and he was sure he could get it up one more time before Chuck came back to pick them up. "But that's not fair – two for me and one for you."
Dean smirked. "You'll just have to make it really, really good," he said, a challenge in his voice.
Castiel smiled back; "I'm sure I can handle that," he said confidently, and Dean raised an eyebrow at him, playfully, and when they were finally ready to go again and it was over, he was man enough to admit that Castiel had very much delivered.
'Cattlemen's' was a steakhouse. A good one – food was plentiful and cheap, and it's a good place to do when you're living off five dollars a day, or want a fun night out without spending much. The place was set up like a calmer Old West Tavern, with paraphernalia on the walls and lots of random crap that people never paid attention to, with good country music playing in the background twenty-four/seven. It was a favorite haunt of the brother's, run by a good friend of their father – Deacon. The four men were led to the back of the place where they could be a little rowdier without raising attention or complaint, and the waitress took their drink orders before leaving the men in peace.
"So, wait, Lucifer? Like the Devil?" Dean repeated once Gabriel told them the story of how his brother had come to visit him in the studio. "Dude, I'm sorry, but were your parents high when they named you all after Archangels?"
Sam and Gabriel looked at Dean, as though not expecting him to have made that connection, but he shrugged and took another swig of his beer (which the waitress had been prompt enough bringing) and sat back, one arm casually resting over the back of Castiel's chair, the other resting on the table where he sat across from Sam.
Gabriel sighed. "They had a thing for the Archangels, okay? Michael and I were the lucky ones but," he grimaced, "Luci was not. But yes, he came in talking about how he was there for Michael, and how fucking them up was my fault. Way to drop a guilt bomb, eh?" he quipped easily, but there was a tenseness to his shoulders and a tightness to his expression that had Sam rubbing between his shoulder blades soothingly, trying to comfort his lover without words.
Castiel sat forward, taking Gabriel's hands in his. "There is no excuse for them blaming you," Castiel said, low and fierce with it. "They could have said 'fuck it' and kept going, but they didn't, and that's not your fault. Just because you knew and freaked out about it doesn't justify Michael's reaction, or how they ended up."
Gabriel looked down at the table for the longest moment, before not even bothering to try and disguise that he was changing the subject; "So you crazy kids are getting back together?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, nursing his own beer as he smirked over Dean's way. The younger man flushed and his hand gripped the back of Castiel's chair in reflex.
"Yes, I guess we are. Again, I'm sorry for being such an ass," he said, looking to Sam, then Gabriel, and then finally landing on Castiel. "Really. If I ever do that again feel free to, like, kick me or something." Castiel smiled at him.
"You were justified, in my eyes. I'm just glad…" He trailed off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence, but Dean just nodded and leaned over, placing a light kiss on Castiel's lips. The older man practically melted against him despite its chasteness, and Dean smiled against him.
"Yeah. Me too."