He sees the taillights of the sleek black car in front of him. His heart beats hard and fast. Thats it. He's a cheater. He follows this man, this stranger, to...well, Dean could lead him anywhere. He might be a serial killer. After all, Castiel doesn't know him at all. But he wants to know him. He wants to learn him, learning all the sounds, Dean makes while having sex. He wants to see Dean loosing control. He wants to taste and to smell. He wants to loose himself in everything that is Dean. They can only have this night, with Grace having a sleepover and with Meg screwing her boss or some stranger. Who is he to judge her right now?

He wants this night.

This one night.

Dean's black car stops on the driveway of a wellkept house. Castiel parks his next to him.

Hesitantly, he leaves the car and walks to the door of the house, where Dean is waiting. The porch light illuminates his features. He's so beautiful, Castiel feels his heart skip a beat.

"I'm nervous", Castiel confesses with a small voice.

"Don't be", Dean says calmly, with shining eyes and a bright smile. "It's you ruling this show. You say stop and we'll stop. And if you have second thoughts, I'll lead you back to the Roadhouse. No offence."

"I want to stay. Oh Dean." He leans forward and captures Dean's lips with his own. The kiss is tender but full of promises. Promises of so much more.

They break the kiss, their foreheads resting against each other. Castiel knows in this moment, green will be for ever his favorite color. Green like Dean's eyes.

"Let's get inside", Castiel says calmly and Dean fumbles with the key and the lock.

It's real.

Castiel is here with him.

And he's nervous as hell.

Hand in hand they enter the house, Dean leading the way to his bedroom. He wants to turn on the light, but Castiel stops him.

"No, no light." He is painfully aware of the scars, Meg has left on his skin. He doesn't want Dean to see them.

They face each other.

Wordlessly they start to undress each other.

It is slow and sensual.

Each patch of skin, revealed from clothings, is caressed, is kissed.

There are soft sighs, little moans, kissed away from trembling lips.

Castiel is hard again.

So is Dean.

Castiel lets his fingers glide along Dean's rigid shaft. For the first time in his life, he touches the penis of another man. It's strange, yet so familiar. He savours the soft silken texture of Dean's member, his long fingers encircle Dean's girth. He strokes him, like he would stroke himself. In the darkness, he hears every hitch in Dean's breath, every little whimper.

And he loves it.

Dean leans in to kiss Castiel's chest, licking his hardening nipples. Castiel pants, his hips thrusting against Dean's thigh.

"Let's go to bed", Dean suggests, smiling against Castiel's skin.

Together, they lay down on Dean's thick comforter.

Skin on skin.

In the darkness, their hands roam and grope and stroke. Their dicks, leaking and painfully hard, trapped between their stomachs. They kiss, whatever they can reach. Castiel wishes, there would be light. He would give almost everything, just to see Dean on top of him. But it can't be.

His skin buzzes and tingles, he feels lightheaded, when Dean grips both their dicks and strokes them together.

This is heavenly.

Castiel fucks into Dean's fist and feels Dean's cock sliding against his own.

"Oh god, Cas...You're amazing...Come for me...Please...Cas..."

Castiel's body goes rigid, as his orgasm takes over, his mouth open, eyes closed.

Dean follows seconds later, their cum squishing between their spent bodies, both trying to catch their breath.

Dean chuckles faintly. "Whow...that was...whow."

"Yeah."

Castiel is tired, exhausted. He wants to stay like this, warm and comfortable, safe in Dean's arms. He wants to close his eyes and sleep, surrounded by Dean's scent, feeling Dean's heartbeat against his own. He wants it, but he knows, he has to go.

After all, it's just a one-night-stand.

No strings attached.

Just sex.

He really has to get up and drive home, back to his life.

But it is so cosy in Dean's arms. It's wonderful to feel the tips of Dean's fingers, tenderly caressing his sweaty skin. They fit together perfectly, their legs entangled, his head resting on Dean's chest, Dean's lips pressing gentle kisses against the top of his head.

"Stay...just a little longer", Dean mumbles and Castiel drifts to sleep.

He wakes up, feeling disorientated. It's not his bedroom and the warm person, pressed against him, isn't Meg. No. No, it's Dean. And that is better. It is wonderful.

It is impossible.

He winces at the feeling of dried cum on his skin, in his pubic hair. He really needs a shower. But that means to wash away Dean's scent from his skin. And he isn't ready for that.

Carefully he sneaks out of Dean's bed, not wanting to disturb his sleep. It is a challenge to find his clothes in the dark room, but eventually, he manages.

With remorse, he looks back at the bed, at the sleeping (and softly snoring) form in it.

Castiel wants to cry, he wants to get back into this bed, he wants to curl around Dean, he wants to stay.

But he walks out of Dean's bedroom.

Out of Dean's life.