Title: Take Me to Church
Rated: M
Summary: AU. Castiel is going through the motions- work at his family's company, ignore their phone calls, and avoid his past. The monotony is broken one Tuesday by a man with beautiful green eyes who appears in his office with an envelope marked: "Hand Deliver". businessman!Castiel
A/N: So this is going to be broken up very strangely. About 20,000 words of this was written as a one-shot, but since ffnet won't let me upload chapters over 5,000 words, I'm posting it in chunks. After the 20,000th word hits, I'm purposely writing in chapters. What this means for you readers is that the flow is going to be weird. Like really weird. I'm very close to being done with this already. I was hoping to be done before I posted, but I just couldn't resist.
This story includes mentions of past physical and sexual abuse and feelings of inadequacy. It also includes awesome sex, so there you go.
Please enjoy! I hope to get everything up for you all soon!
Chapter One
The coffee was too hot and his office was too cold.
Castiel was too tired for this shit.
Yesterday Anna had called and not-so-subtly hinted about going to church again. She hadn't brought up that particular subject in a while, and Castiel hadn't reacted favorably to it. He ended up having another nightmare, and got a grand total of three hours of sleep. Then, upon entering his office at the ass-crack of dawn, he read his to-do list of the day and almost went back home. Sometimes he didn't like being a CEO.
Rebecca was a sweet girl, and a pretty decent secretary, but she just didn't know how Castiel worked. Hannah, his old secretary, knew exactly what she was doing. When Zachariah called to bitch at Castiel, she'd let him know that Castiel was very busy and would call him back when he had time, even if the Novak was just reading. Rebecca patched him through with no warning.
Zachariah was one thing he had to deal with today. Zachariah Adler was one of the Novak & Sons Architecture Supply Company's best lawyers. He was also a gigantic asshole who played dirty, which Castiel did not tolerate.
Castiel also had a meeting with a new investor in the company, something to film in the HR department, he didn't know what, and he had to approve the design base for the next architecture project going on. On top of that, there was a young man in the mail room who was hot as the fucking sun, and it reminded Castiel of how long it had been since he had gotten laid. The length of time was higher than he cared to admit.
Castiel sipped his coffee and cursed. It was still scalding.
Later that day, Castiel tapped his foot impatiently in the elevator. There was some new song playing, and it was frustratingly catchy. Lots of "amen"s. He shook his head at that.
The new investor was an even bigger dick than Zachariah. His name was Azazel. He was arrogant and unreasonable, and Castiel had to keep a smile through the entire conversation.
The elevator dinged and Castiel stepped out, striding purposefully to his office. He was going to sit down, get his reports done, and maybe leave a little early. When was the last time he took a bath? That sounded amazing right now. A hot bath, wine... no, probably whiskey. Yes, whiskey was-
Castiel stopped dead in his open doorway. That man from the mail room was standing in the corner of the office, inspecting Castiel's bookshelf with unmasked curiosity. He was Castiel's height, but probably several years younger. He wore a crisp white dress shirt under a green sweater, the sleeves of both pushed up to his elbows. The button at his throat was undone.
The breath rushed quickly out of Castiel's lungs, and the man's face snapped towards him. Jesus, those eyes were green. Like pine trees in the sun.
"Shit," the man said, then his eyes widened. "Uh, I mean sorry, sorry Mr. Novak, I wasn't-" he stopped and straightened up. A light pink tinted his cheeks, but he kept his eyes up.
Castiel found himself walking forward, though his brain hadn't told his legs to move. As he moved forward, the young man's face became clearer. His eyes were more than just pine- there were flecks of emerald and gold and hunter green. They were mesmerizing. When he blinked, Castiel could see long, thick lashes that brushed his prominent cheekbones.
Castiel stopped walking. He knew he was staring, but when the man's lips parted almost imperceptibly, he didn't even try stopping himself. He could only describe them as sinful. Full and plush, with an arched cupid's bow and a natural pout. They were just a little bit chapped, and Castiel wondered what they would look like red and kiss-swollen.
"I just came to deliver mail," he mumbled nervously.
Castiel tilted his head. "That is the duty of my secretary," he said as evenly as he could. Damn, he was so much more beautiful up close.
The man swallowed and Castiel watched the bob of his adam's apple. "It says 'Important: Hand Deliver' on it." He held out the letter, and Castiel recognized the handwriting immediately.
It was Gabriel's.
With great effort, Castiel walked back to his desk and sat. Every step farther from this man seemed difficult, like he had his own gravity. Maybe he really was the sun.
His paper cutter sliced cleanly through the envelope paper, and a single sheet fluttered out.
Cassie!
Great plan, huh? His name is Dean Winchester, and he's going to be hand delivering all your super secret mail from me for the next ever until you two get together. You've been staring at him ever since he got here and I know you want him, bad. I also know you're making a face now, stop making that face. Dean is watching.
Castiel smoothed out his features, purposefully staring at his brother's words and not Dean.
I know you can't flirt worth shit, so try smiling. Say thank you. Use his name. Do something because your sexual frustration is starting to affect me now.
Chop chop, bro.
Your favorite sibling,
Gabe
Castiel folded the paper carefully and slid it back into the envelope. When he had fully prepared himself, he looked back up at Dean. The Winchester stood in front of his desk, shifting from foot to foot. Castiel realized that he was waiting to be dismissed. How old was he? Twenty? Twenty-one? Castiel was thirty-five. Was that too large a gap?
No, stop it, he chided himself. He had interacted with Dean for three minutes, and he was wondering if they could be together. For all he knew, Dean was straight and taken. And even if he wasn't, Castiel wouldn't take his youth away. Still, he could be polite and not fucking stare like he was right that minute.
"You don't need to deliver a reply," Castiel said. He should probably say more, but he was still fixated on Dean's attentive expression.
Dean nodded absently, then clasped his hands in front of him. "Okay, so I'll just go then..."
He turned to leave and was almost to the doorframe before Castiel remembered. "Dean," he said, and the Winchester turned, surprised. "Thank you."
A little embarrassed smile crossed Dean's face. "Yeah, sure," he muttered before hurrying out the door.
Castiel sat back in his chair for a moment, the click of the closed door the only sound in the room.
Dean Winchester.
He was gorgeous. Castiel had never seen anyone more beautiful. He seemed to glow with youthful vitality, and Castiel knew what his brain was begging him to suppress. He wanted to know Dean. He wanted to know what his life goals were, what his favorite song was, how many brothers and sisters he had, and what he liked to eat for breakfast. He also wanted to know what Dean looked like at his most vulnerable state- what noises he made when he came undone, how his muscles rippled when they moved, what his grip would feel like in the throes of passion...
Castiel's head fell into his hands. Where had this come from? Gabriel was right, he was sexually frustrated, but he couldn't go seeking nameless company. Dean had just ruined him for that with only a few sentences.
Jesus, he was wrecked. Damn Gabriel.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Castiel almost forgot about Dean in the rush of work, and in the evening, Michael called. Castiel let it go to voicemail.
That's how he justified his current position, laying out in his enormous bathtub with one hand wrapped around his painful member. He'd been stressed and sexually frustrated, as Gabe pointed out, so he was going to take care of himself. That was his right.
The only problem was Dean. He kept appearing in Castiel's mind, no matter how hard he tried to stave off the images. Every time he thought of those plush parted lips, his length twitched violently in his grasp.
He could almost see it now, Dean on his knees, green eyes looking up at him innocently. His mouth looked sinful, but the image filled Castiel with a sense of awe. Would Dean's tongue be white-hot against him? Would he hum around Castiel's member, or better yet, moan of his own pleasure? Would his lips come away spit-slicked and red from pressure?
The thoughts built in the Novak's head until he shouted his release, alone in his house.
He went to bed, more sated than he'd felt in a long time. He also felt more guilty than he had in a long time, like he'd defiled holy ground or something. Regardless, his sleep was restful that night.
o o o
The next day, the same occurrence happened.
Castiel sat in his office going over the month's business model modifications, having skipped lunch entirely, when Rebecca rang. "Yes?" Castiel grunted, flipping pages.
"You have mail, sir. It's supposed to be hand delivered."
Castiel's pulse skyrocketed and he sat up in his chair. "Send him in." He hoped his voice was even.
There was a pause, then Dean Winchester cracked open the door. "Hey, Mr. Novak," he said in that smooth voice of his. "I have your mail again."
"Come in, Dean." Was it his imagination, or did the Winchester shiver a bit? Dean approached, and the sight of his face up close again gave Castiel vivid flashbacks to his daydreams from the previous evening.
Calm the fuck down, he thought at his wakening member.
"Here ya go," he said, a bit of twang shining through his words.
Castiel took his mail, brushing his fingers lightly against Dean's maybe on purpose. All other mail was tossed aside save Gabriel's.
Cassie,
I have some real news for you this time- Dad and Mike are thinking about coming down next weekend, so I've taken the liberty of getting you and some staff tickets to that convention you don't want to go to in Baltimore. I'll make sure they're gone by that Sunday night.
Bless Gabriel. He was the only brother who understood.
I hope you're enjoying Dean's fine ass. He was definitely excited to see you again today. Spring in his step and everything. He looks like a lady-killer, but my gaydar is off the charts. Go get 'im.
Your Ever-Loving Brother,
Gabe
Castiel folded the sheet of paper and slipped it back in the envelope, setting it in the drawer next to the one from yesterday.
Dean was looking at him again, waiting for instructions. "No reply is needed," he found himself saying. Dean pressed his lips together and turned to leave, but Castiel needed another minute with him. "Dean," he said calmly.
The green-eyed man turned around.
"How old are you?" It was a strange question to ask out-of-the-blue, but he needed to know.
Dean looked surprised again. "Uh, I'll be twenty-four next month."
It took considerable effort not to groan aloud. He was over ten years younger than Castiel, and he found that fact pervertedly exciting. He almost missed Dean's returned question. "How old are you?"
Castiel tilted his head. It wasn't a question usually directed at an employer in professional conversation, but Castiel was far from offended. "Thirty-five." He watched for a reaction.
Dean gave him a little smile, like he was trying to repress it. He nodded, and turned to leave.
"Thank you, Dean," Castiel repeated from yesterday, and Dean's smile widened.
"No problem."
A/N: So what do we think so far? Reviews are my lifeblood!