The Daily Grind
Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel, Other Pairings Mentioned.
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.
Author's Note: Thanks to sarahlizzie who puts up with me (and my bitching) and is amazingly supportive at pr0n-writing. And this is possibly the longest porn scene I've ever written EVER. There's hardly any plot (at first) so…yeah. I'll pretend that you guys don't read it for the porn :P
"The fuck you mean he's a virgin?"
Dean looked around, having realized he'd all but shouted the question, and then pulled his manager – Chuck Shirley – aside, away from prying eyes. "Look, man, I said in my contract – no virgins. This is no place for someone like that."
Chuck sighed, scrubbing a hand over his bearded face, eyes tired. Guy looked like he hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep since he was in diapers. "I know, Dean, I know. But Zachariah wants you to do it because you're the only one available today, and besides we all know you'd be the best."
Flattery was usually the way to go when coaxing Dean Winchester into doing something he didn't want to do, but Dean drew a line at virgins. He didn't want anyone's first time to be at a freaking porn shooting, like his had been, and Sammy's. It was just wrong.
"Just go talk to him for a while, okay? We can't start shooting for another hour or so anyway until Ruby and Lilith are done, so go ahead and get settled with him. Poor guy looks like he's going to have an aneurism."
He should, Dean couldn't help but think. He remembered how nervous he'd been, coming here on his first day. His father, John Winchester, ran the joint and figured that if his sons worked under him he could always keep an eye on them and keep them out of trouble, and so both he and Sam had joined 'The Family Business'. At least it had been until John died of cancer a couple of years ago. Then it had moved to his business associate, Zachariah Adler – a man who'd sell his own three-year-old if it'd make him a quick buck. Under John the place had been a relatively nice place to work – the people were friendly and the pay was good. Now though…well, he brought in people like Ruby and Lilith, who did the whole 'BDSM' scene – wrong, in Dean's opinion – and virgins.
Dean was in a pretty foul mood already this morning, but it wasn't the poor guy's fault his life was crappy enough to force him here, so he took a deep breath and calmed himself. It wasn't all bad – Dean would actually feel better if it were him the guy was with and not, say, Alistair – sadistic S.O.B, all the times Dean had worked with him.
Chuck let him go, back to following one of the girls who worked in customer relations (or something) like a lovesick puppy, and Dean pushed through the swinging door that led to a room doubling as both a break room and Bobby's office. Bobby had been Dean's father's closest friend and managed the business' finances – you wouldn't be able to tell from his gruff exterior, trucker-esque fashion sense and ever-present baseball cap, but the guy had quite a head for sums underneath that scruffy beard and rustic accent.
The room's only other occupant looked up when Dean entered, and he had to suck in a breath.
No, no…a guy like that deserved a two-syllable description….Dayumn.
Bright, wide, innocent blue eyes. A mop of jet black hair that looked permanently sexed-up and tousled. Strong jaw, full lips, though slightly chapped…a little bit of scruff along his jaw and neck, that would provide just the right amount of scratch. Christ, the man was beautiful. Right on the border between a twink and a top. Very, very nice.
The guy also stared.
Which was creepy, usually. Dean didn't like partners who maintained a lot of eye-contact, - thought it too confrontational and aggressive – and that bled into his personal and social life, but the guy's eyes were very, very blue. And he had this intensity about him that looked like he was trying to see soul-deep; like he could. And that thought didn't freak Dean out as much as it should.
Bobby's not-so-subtle-loud clearing of his throat snapped the both of them out of their epic staring match, and Dean flushed a little, grinning sheepishly as he walked over to the couch the guy was sitting on. He sat on the opposite end, turning towards him – close but not too close. Friendly but not overly friendly. He flashed another smile, this time the more charming, relaxed smile, and leaned forward to extend his hand.
"Hey, I'm Dean Winchester," he said, and noticed with appreciation how the guy's cheeks flushed a little. When the guy shook his hand Dean took stock of the grip – firm, nice – and the lack of calluses one would expect on a guy his age. Even the highest-class snobs got some work-scars on their hands after a year or so in this place. So either the guy was new, or he took really good care of himself.
"Castiel," came the reply, and once again – dayumn. The guy's – Castiel's – voice sounded like he'd been gargling gravel – or someone had just fucked his throat. It was deep and rumbling and totally didn't seem to go with his exterior.
Dean wondered what other surprises he was hiding.
"So Chuck says you're with me today," Dean said, still acting casual – if he didn't make a big deal out of the guy's inexperience, then this would just go a lot easier for the both of them. Dean didn't approve, but then again what Castiel chose to do with his life was his business – not Dean's. Bobby was known for picking up strays who needed money in exchange for a day's work. It was better than whoring themselves out – marginally. "They don't need us for another hour, so if it's okay I just want to ask a few questions."
"What…do you want to know?" The reply was slow, methodical, every word planned out and thought through before it was said. Dean liked that.
Dean shrugged. "Let's start easy. Just tell me a little about yourself." He could tell Castiel was beginning to relax – Winchester charm was famous. Hardly anyone with a stick up their ass remained that way for long around Dean's easy camaraderie, or Sam's more adorable empathic approach. Even John had had the gruff sort of affection about him that put people at ease. "Full name, age, occupation…what brings you here today." Why would you give away your man-virginity for money?
Castiel shrugged. "My last name is Novak. I'm thirty-two. I, ah…" He paused, a sort of almost-smile coming to his face. It was bittersweet and didn't reach his eyes. "I sell ad space for some big-name company. And…I guess I'm here because a friend of mine said it's a good place to go if you really need money."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "This friend have a name?"
It was whispered; "Jimmy."
Ahh yes… Dean remembered Jimmy – he remembered every name that came through here, almost obsessively. Jimmy was the married man, had a kid, lost his job and needed to get some cash. He'd been paired with Azazel, who was alright in small doses, had come in, worked for six hours and left with five hundred dollars in his pocket. Dean never heard about him again.
Apparently, though, he was spreading word around to his friends. Dean had to wonder how many other poor saps coming here Jimmy had been responsible for. How many virgin saps.
Damn, he really couldn't let this go; he had to ask.
"Alright, Cas," he said, leaning forward again and lowering his voice so that Bobby wouldn't hear – not that the old guy cared – "I have to ask. Why would you come here? You can't be that desperate, right? You do realize what we do here." As if it weren't obvious from the entryway.
Castiel fixed him with a long look, eyes steady. "It's better than working the streets, wouldn't you agree?"
Dean didn't answer – couldn't answer. Those had been his thoughts exactly, but still. There's always another option, isn't there? Of course, Dean didn't mind his job. It was fun, you get to meet some really nice people and work with some great ones, and you get off for money. Having a definite business around it ensured the employees were safe, disease-free, and they always had a paycheck and were taken care of – the health plans here were just ridiculous. So it wasn't the worst option, but it wasn't the best.
But hey, it's the guy's life.
He realized they were still staring at each other – Castiel with that soul-deep look again – when he spoke; "You called me 'Cas'."
Dean blinked, and flushed again. Scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, he smiled a little. "Sorry, didn't mean it."
"No…That's okay." Castiel's voice went higher, just a little, talking more like a normal person and not someone who had been a long-time smoker. He blushed a little, hair falling forward to shield his eyes when he looked down – fuck that was beautiful. "I like it."
There was another 'moment' when Castiel flashed more of those bright blue eyes Dean's way from under his lashes – really long, dark lashes – cheeks still adorably pink and a small smile curving his lush lips when Gabriel burst into the door.
Dean liked Gabriel, he did, but honestly the guy had the worst timing ever. Gabriel was all about the straight love, usually – weirdo – and often was seen in ridiculous kinds of costumes for various role-plays and 'scenarios'. Today, apparently, he was going to be a maître d' or room-service guy or something, dressed in black dress pants, a white shirt and red vest. His honey-brown hair was slicked back from his face.
"I feel like having a twink today," he announced to the room at large, arms crossing over his chest, resting his weight on one leg. "You up for it, Winchester?"
For a second Dean thought he was talking about him, which would be weird considering he and Gabriel had never been paired together, spared two glances for each other outside of friendship, but then there was laughter from the other open door to Bobby's office, and Sam came in the other door, laughing.
"You couldn't handle me, short-stop," he said, lumbering over to the (much) shorter man and picking him up easily. Gabriel chuckled, wrapping his arms and legs around the larger man and resting their foreheads together as Sam carried him back out of the room.
It was weird – Gabriel was all about sexing up the women on camera, but Sam was the only one he took it up the ass for. Sam was also the only one Gabriel was romantically involved with – and vice versa. Some people might wonder how the hell that worked, but really the two were so comfortable and secure with each other that it just came naturally to them. Dean envied that – someone who wouldn't feel threatened by his job, maybe could even relate. Like that would happen – the one time Dean had tried to date a girl from work it had ended in absolute disaster when she found out he preferred men to women.
There was more laughter from the room Sam had carried Gabriel into, then the distinct sounds of people starting to make out. Dean coughed, rubbing his palms on his jeans for a moment before Castiel drew his eyes away from the empty doorway again, looking to Dean.
"He was called 'Winchester'," he noted, and Dean immediately understood what he was getting at.
"My little brother, Sam," Dean said, gesturing vaguely with an affectionate smile. "Four years younger but still a sasquatch."
"Are those two…'paired'?" Castiel asked, tongue seeming to stumble over the lingo of the business. Dean felt his smile grow.
He was going to answer when Chuck appeared in the doorway, a jerk of his head signaling that it was time to get the party started. Dean sighed again and shoved himself to his –bare – feet (he didn't like wearing socks around an indoor place), holding his hand out to Castiel. "Come on. Time to go."
And just like that the guy was nervous again. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment before they opened again and he took Dean's hand; that soft, firm grip sliding into Dean's again and giving a slight squeeze. Dean smiled and pulled him upright, letting him come close when he overcompensated and leaned against Dean.
"You don't have to do this, you know," Dean said, and yeah maybe he was leaning in a little more closely than he should be, inhaling Castiel's scent where it was strong around his neck and the corner of his jaw, behind his ear. Castiel smelled of oceans, even though they were thousands of miles away from any body of salt water worth mentioning, and of sweat. Not in the gross, stale way, though – just the scent of someone who had gone through a few hours in a hot day and a not-so-well-air-conditioned room. It was pleasant.
Castiel drew away so he was standing on his own, hand pulling out of Dean's again as air came between them. He shook his head. "No, I've come this far. I'm sure you'll take care of me, Dean." Another look from underneath those eyelashes, and Dean was caught. Hook, link, sinker. He was done for.
"Yeah," he rasped, throat feeling suddenly dry. "Yeah, I can do that."
Castiel smiled, and motioned for Dean to lead the way. The two men followed Chuck to the room they would be filming in, Castiel looking everywhere he could, taking in everything. The man never missed a detail. While they walked, Chuck talked through what the producer was looking for for this shooting;
"Alright…basically we're going to start with a bit of making out. Nothing big, just to ease you in a little." He shot Castiel a reassuring smile, which Castiel returned gratefully. Making out – he could do that. Just easing in. Awesome. "Then Dean's going to go down on Castiel, make him come, and then sex. That's just the basic outline, feel free to improvise." Castiel wasn't sure who Chuck was talking to, having used both of them in the third person, but he was okay with that, his mind still going over what was being asked of him. They were giving them a lot of lee-way with what to do; Castiel was surprised. He thought every porn video was carefully choreographed and planned down to a 'T'. Apparently not.
"Oh, and feel free to say whatever. We're not going to use live audio feed, so anything you say won't be on the video. Just some music." Dean smirked a little, knowing that that was complete bull, but it would put Castiel more at ease, make him feel a little safer and free to do what he wanted. Regardless of the fact that Cas would be paid, Dean wanted him to enjoy it.
Chuck went into a raised chair that sat behind a camera, looking through at a screen to see the room Dean and Cas were in – it was bare, white walls and wooden floors like a dance studio. The only piece of furniture was a big black leather couch, and there were half a dozen supports between the ceiling and the floor. Plenty of space to do what they wanted, but Dean wouldn't worry about getting too adventurous with Castiel.
The poor guy looked like he was going to start hyperventilating; his eyes were focused on the cameras and lighting equipment, and the two men also in the room with them. Dean didn't let him dwell too long, pulling him close just out of view of the camera.
"Last chance," he murmured into Castiel's ear, taking a small delight in the way the older male shivered against him. "Now or never; you can still back out if you want."
Castiel shook his head; not surprising. He struck Dean as the type who wouldn't back down once he set his mind to something. "No. I want to do this. Let's do this." And he smiled up at Dean, a small, confident sort of smile that belied the nerves showing in his eyes. But the camera wouldn't catch that – that was all for Dean.
He smiled. "Okay then." Then, he stepped back, into the full view of the camera and pulled Castiel along with him by the hand, into a kiss. Castiel was perfect height – just a little shorter than Dean, but not so much that either of them had to bend or stretch awkwardly. Dean smiled at his hesitance, drawing back a little so he could whisper against Castiel's lips; "Ignore the cameras. Just focus on me. You'll be great." When Dean kissed him again, the shorter male was more receptive, closing his eyes and letting himself feel. Dean slowly brushed a hand through the hair on the side of Castiel's head, above his ear and away from the camera, not letting his body block the view – because fuck it, Dean wanted to watch this later. He wanted to see the exact moment Castiel surrendered to him, wanted to see the beautiful blush on his partner's cheeks and the expressions on Castiel's face when Dean brought him pleasure.
He wanted to see it all.
Dean slowly ran his other hand down Castiel's sleeved arms – he was dressed in black dress pants and a plain white button-down, the first few buttons undone – and took Castiel's hand in his, placing it on his side. "Touch me, Cas, it's alright," he purred, eyes half-lidded as he pulled away from Castiel just a little, drawing the other male forward with tongue and hands and holds, so that he followed. Castiel's breathing was heavy and fast – unhealthily so – and Dean continued to gently pet through his hair in an attempt to calm him down, breaking away from the kiss for a chance to breathe.
When Dean felt the backs of his legs hit the couch he sat down, pulling Castiel so the other male lay down on top of him. Dean was quick to trap him in-between his legs, strong thighs grabbing hold of Castiel's waist and hips and keeping him there.
Their breathing seemed incredibly loud to Castiel, echoing in the room with such weird acoustics – like an echo and not. Regardless of whether he'd had sex with a man before or not, Castiel was a good kisser, forceful and dominant – not like what Dean was used to, and definitely not what he'd expected. Castiel didn't kiss chastely, and he didn't quite attack either. He was sneaky; he put pressure on Dean's lips, forced them open and then stole inside like a thief, getting his taste and his pleasure from it, and almost leaving some behind as an afterthought. It was hot.
As they kissed, Dean could practically feel Castiel's reserves melt away. This was obviously something he was comfortable with, and while the cameras remained relatively unobtrusive and in the background Dean was confident he could get Castiel to let loose. He slid his hands down the older male's sides, finding his ass and digging in, thrusting upward at the same time while keeping the almost bruising hold with his thighs. Castiel jerked away in surprise, cheeks flushed adorably as he stared down at Dean, eyes wide. Dean smirked up at him, flexing his hands in the tight muscle and Cas groaned, head dropping onto Dean's chest as Dean once again began a slow grind, not letting Cas move any way he didn't permit.
When Castiel began to thrust back, hand fisted tightly in the back leather, the other gripping Dean's shoulder tight enough to bruise as his face contorted in pleasure, Dean thought he was relaxed enough to move on. Castiel's erection was warm and solid against his thigh, and it felt like the guy had a lot to offer. Dean couldn't wait to rock his world and watch him shatter.
Time to lose the clothes. Dean tilted his head, deepening the kiss and sliding his hands around to Castiel's chest, beginning to unbutton the shirt slowly. Castiel tensed a little as he did so and Dean kept his eyes half-lidded, breaking the kiss and reengaging – making it breathier and slowing down Castiel's attack on his lips, hoping to convey his reassurance with his eyes.
Nodding slightly, Castiel shifted a little, moving his weight so he rested more on his knees and let his hands slide under Dean's t-shirt, pushing it upward so it bunched under Dean's arms. He kept pushing until Dean was forced to lift his arms. Castiel pushed it up over Dean's head, smiling in appreciation when Dean's muscled, toned chest was exposed to him. He leaned down, trailing his hands over the sun-kissed skin as Dean continued unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders once he was done. Castiel pulled the sleeves down, grinning when Dean's eyes raked his torso with an appraising look, and let it fall to the floor.
Dean pushed himself to a sitting position, legs resting over the other man's, pulling Castiel closer to kiss him again, letting his eyes fall closed as he tilted his head, exposed his neck and jaw – which apparently the viewers really liked in his videos – which Castiel immediately covered with his hand. The hold was kept with the slightest bit of pressure, but it gave Dean very (in)appropriate thoughts of breath play and more hardcore lovin' with Castiel, which would be awesome.
But this was a one-off, and the guy was a virgin. He couldn't get ahead of himself.
Castiel brushed his thumb over Dean's cheek, pulling him forward until Dean was crouched over him on all fours, Castiel sliding down the couch until he was pliant and beautiful underneath Dean, who leant his head down, purring and nuzzling into Castiel's neck and hair. He tilted his head a little, flashing his eyes in Chuck's direction, who was making the 'you're-doing-great-but-move-it-along' motion, and Dean flexed his hand slightly, letting Chuck know he'd understood.
He moved his head to the other side of Castiel's head, so the gasping man blocked his mouth – and his words – from the camera; "Going to suck you off now, Cas," he growled, making his voice already throaty and fucked-out, smirking at Castiel's hitch of breath. "Gonna make you feel so good…" He moved a hand down, stroking between Castiel's legs as he lay to one side, letting the camera get a good view as Castiel's legs fell open, his back arching and neck being bared in pleasure. His jaw clenched beautifully, tendons flexing in his neck, eyes sliding closed. Fuck, he's beautiful.
Dean moved his head again, whispering more filth into Castiel's ear; "Gonna take you right in my mouth, swallow you all down. Bet you'll feel great on my tongue – nice and warm and fucking solid, and I bet you're a grabber. Yeah, gonna fuck my mouth, make my throat all fucked-out when you grab my head and make me take it, make me swallow. Yeah…" Castiel choked on a gasp, eyes squeezed shut and hands clenching into fists against Dean's skin. "Yeah…Can do that."
Castiel let out his breath shakily, opening pupil-blown, lust-wide eyes and looking to Dean's green, noticing with some satisfaction that the Winchester seemed just as affected by his words as he was. He nodded enthusiastically, words forming around a silent 'Yes please'. But he couldn't speak; his mouth was too dry.
Dean smiled easily, nudging below Castiel's jaw again, forcing his head to remain back as he slid down between Castiel's legs, mouthing at the smaller man's neck and collarbone. He paused right below the hollow in his throat, licking and biting a dark bruise into existence on the pale, previously-unmarked skin. In the back of his mind he vaguely hoped the guy didn't have a girlfriend or something, and if he did then she could suck it, bitch. Castiel's hands knotted into Dean's hair, and he thought he heard the other man mutter something about it being 'Too short'. Dean smiled against his ribs as he counted them with his tongue, learning this new lover while he could.
"Dean…Fuck…" It was the first thing Castiel had said clearly since the whole thing started, and Dean almost froze with surprise. He covered it up pretty well, but he was almost positive that Castiel could tell how much his voice affected Dean. Sneaky bastard decided to get a lot more vocal after that; deep moans and little whimpers and whines – any place Dean touched, kissed or caressed elicited a reaction from Castiel. Repeated mutterings and gasps of his name – and fuck wasn't that just an ego boost and a half?
Chuck was getting impatient again – but fuck him; this was Dean's video – and from the way Castiel kept lifting his hips and pulling at Dean's head, trying to focus the younger man's attention further south, Dean figured Cas was more than ready for the next part. Dean smirked into the skin between waistband and navel, flashing his eyes to lock with Castiel's as he slowly dragged his mouth down; he wanted to watch Cas' face when he started whipping out the big moves.
He tilted his head away from the camera, let his upper lip catch on the top of the dress pants, noting how Castiel's breath hitched at the sight. Dean's hands slid to the cushions on either side of the other man's hips, clenching in the leather as he stretched and arched his back – hell, his back could be in a porn movie all on its own – letting the muscles in his arms and shoulders flex as, maintaining the eye contact he usually shrinks from, Dean caught hold of the button on Castiel's pants. Pushing it through the hole with his tongue he gripped the other half of the opening between his teeth and pulled, undoing the fastening with ease. It was almost comical how wide Castiel's eyes got. Then the contact broke when Dean took Cas' zipper into his teeth next and dragged it open, his breath gusting out in one huge, hot exhale right onto Castiel's now exposed cock.
Guy had fucking gone commando.
Bringing his hands back into play, Dean hooked his ring fingers into the waistband and pulled them down to Castiel's thighs – it was as far as he needed to get them for the camera without having to move.
Fuck, Dean thought, and not for the first time; He's beautiful.
Castiel was packing some serious heat under that awkward, kind-of-nerdy exterior and lithe body. Those innocent-as-fuck blue eyes and adorable blush; the guy almost looked like a challenge.
The older man looked like he'd passed out when Dean did the thing with the zipper, his eyes half-lidded and glazed over in pleasure – and anticipation of more – as he combed his fingers lazily through Dean's hair. Only when the younger man licked a strip along the vein on the underside of his cock did Cas stir. Well, more like jack-knifed into a sitting position, gasping. Guy's so responsive. Dean would have to remember that, and be careful when he was fucking him.
Castiel's thighs had clenched, trying to close and block Dean, push him away from such a vulnerable area – which was fair; it was only instinct – but that wouldn't do. Gently Dean held Castiel's thighs, pushing them apart again as he placed little kisses along Castiel's hips, away from the more sensitive areas until the man had calmed down. Castiel allowed the leg closest to the camera, and the edge of the couch, to be pushed off the couch so his foot was against the floor, baring Dean's ministrations for all the audience to see.
Keeping his hold on Castiel's other thigh, Dean returned his mouth to the other man's cock, this time starting slower – he licked lightly at the base, eyes flashing up to Castiel's to make sure this was okay. Blue eyes filled with a mix of wonder and lust, Castiel nodded, hand coming forward to hold the back of Dean's head, direct him to the head. Dean let himself be guided, dragging his bottom lip up along whatever patch of skin happened to be under his mouth, as his now-free hand took hold of Castiel, immediately forming a tight fist for the man to fuck into. Castiel was quick to take advantage, and his heavy breathing turned into an almost strangled groan – animal-like, pure lust – when Dean finally – fucking finally – took him into his mouth.
And damn, did Dean keep his promise.
Not only did he give a fantastic blowjob, but it was messy, and noisy, and that was just fucking hot. Cas' cock soon shone with saliva, liberally coated in the wet warmth, which Dean used to stroke and finger the parts he hadn't yet reached with his mouth.
Then, Dean got the signal, and he looked up at Castiel, winked, and moved his head. In one smooth motion he sank down, throat relaxing around Castiel as he swallowed everything the man had to offer. Castiel's hand tightened in the short hair at the back of his head, desperately searching for purchase, until Castiel, desperate, had to resort to taking a bruising grip of the man's shoulder. Fuck, there is a God. His name is Dean Winchester and he's currently giving the best blowjob ever given in the history of mankind.
Then. Dean. Started. Humming.
He fucking started humming. With Castiel's cock buried throat deep in his mouth. Bastard was even smirking around Castiel, those pretty, full lips stretched wide and kissed red – fuck, the man's already throaty and decadent voice would only just get worse – and didn't that do wonders for Castiel's libido, and his lasting time.
Fuck. I am so fucked. Fuck!
Yeah, Castiel's vocabulary had been reduced to one syllable words, mostly consisting of long-moaned 'Fuck', 'Yes', 'Dean', 'Don't', 'Can't' and 'Stop'. Dean slowly drew up, tongue working a trail along the underside and fingers following diligently behind, so tight and so hot and so perfect, like he was made to suck Castiel.
And then, when he thought it couldn't get any (worse) better…
Dean pulled off all the way, continuing to stroke Castiel slowly, maddeningly slowly, with just the right amount of friction and pull to bring him closer to the edge, but not enough to send him flying off. Shifting to his knees, Dean leaned forward to whisper something in Castiel's ear – like what he had to say was too intimate (or filthy) for the camera to see.
It turned out to be the latter; "God, Cas, you taste so good. Feel so fucking awesome on my tongue, fucking my throat. Want to see you come, Cas. Want to feel it, taste it; want you to come all over my face." Dean's already low voice was positively wrecked now, giving Castiel a soft squeeze when he spoke. The older man's eyes flew open at Dean's request, breath hitching so violently he almost choked.
But God…that mouth on Dean. And the visual…Dean was fucking gorgeous – duh, he was a porn star – with just the right balance between being pretty and masculine. With his tanned skin and beautiful green eyes and full lips, he would look fucking incredible, painted, marked up like that. Castiel's cock jerked in Dean's hand at the thought of being the one to do that.
Dean noticed; he chuckled, smirking; "Like the thought of that, huh?" He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of Castiel's ear when he spoke. "Want you to do it, Cas. Need it; fuck, so hot…" And he pulled away, some sixth sense telling him that to get what he wanted he would have to move real fucking fast.
He didn't have to wait long – within minutes of taking Castiel back into his mouth, the older man gave a warning jerk, managing to just stutter out Dean's name before Dean pulled off. The younger male was quick to kneel on the floor, pulling Castiel to a sitting position that would lend itself to a better camera angle. Castiel took himself in his hand, stroking at a punishing pace while Dean licked and stroked at his thighs and balls, intense green eyes focused on Castiel's face.
When Castiel's eyes flew open Dean figured it was time. He opened his mouth slightly, catching the first hints of Castiel's release on his tongue, licking them from where they fell on his lips. Castiel stroked himself through his release, painting Dean's cheeks, chin, neck and chest with the thick white ropes, even going so far as to get some in his hair and around his eyes. There was a thin strand connecting from nose, to over his eyelashes, to just above his eyebrow that was severed when Dean blinked and leaned forward, licking away what had dribbled down Castiel's hand and cock. His breathing was just as heavy as Castiel's, even making that sound fucked-out and satisfied, and Castiel cupped Dean's cheek, forcing the other male to meet his eyes. His thumb trailed over one of the marks on Dean's chin slowly, rubbing it in.
Dean smiled, the expression relaxed and self-satisfied. "You're a natural."
They were still staring at each other when Chuck cleared his throat.
Dean pulled away, taking a deep breath to steady himself and managed to catch the wetted towel Chuck threw his way. He unfolded the thing, pressing it to his face to wipe off the semen stains, and Castiel felt oddly sad to watch them go.
Hurriedly he stuffed himself back into his pants, not sure what would happen now. Luckily Chuck was merciful and told him; "We're gonna take a break for fifteen minutes or so, so that we can change the roll on the cameras and give you some time to recover. Anything you want to plan out; I'd do it now." Then he nodded at Dean and left the room, taking his camera and the rest of the crew with him and muttering something about lighting and position.
Dean sat down on the couch again next to Castiel, clearly more at ease and in his element now; Castiel envied that – the ability to be so laid back about everything, to assume a role and just be able to go with it. He rubbed his palms along his thighs, waiting until Dean had finished cleaning himself up until he spoke.
Well; tried to. "So…" And yeah, that's pretty much all he managed to rasp out, the image of Dean's face covered in his come still fresh and hot in his mind.
Dean smiled, features soft in a sort of odd affection for the other male before he sighed, stretching out his jaw. "Not bad so far, yeah?"
Castiel shook his head. "No; not bad at all. Different than what I expected."
Dean snorted, smirking again. "We're pretty alright as far as the business goes. There are worse places you could have chosen." He shifted in place, wincing slightly in discomfort, reminding Castiel that, while he may have gotten off – and what a way to go – Dean hadn't.
"Do you need to…?" He gestured vaguely at Dean's various state of dress, including the obvious bulge in his jeans. Dean flushed slightly but shook his head.
"No. Gotta wait or I won't be able to get it up again for the next part."
The next part…Another silence fell between them, not quite comfortable but not awkward either. Finally, the questions pressing through Castiel's mind became too much; they were running out of time anyway, and it seemed like he should talk about this with Dean, at the very least. "So…the sex is next."
"You're okay with that, right?" came Dean's reply, and Castiel turned to find Dean looking at him with a concerned expression. "I mean…because if you're not, you can still back out. Chuck'll be able to work with what we've given him already. Or…" Dean fell silent, biting his lower lip as he seemed to come to a decision in his head; "I could. Well. You don't have to bottom. Chuck didn't specify it would be you."
Castiel blinked, stunned at the offer. He honestly hadn't thought about it – he just assumed Dean would top him. It seemed more natural that way anyway.
Then again, he could see where Dean was coming from – or trying to, in a roundabout way. He sighed; in for a penny and all that. "No," he said, shaking his head, coming to a decision, "I'll bottom. I wouldn't know what I was doing anyway." He smiled slightly.
Dean nodded, seeming to be a little relieved, actually.
Another pause, then; "Alright then. We should get started." Dean pushed himself to his feet, extending a hand to Castiel. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" Strange, it didn't even occur to him to refuse.
"We need to get you…prepared. Viewers don't like seeing the whole prep stage – they like to think you can just push in with just spit and Bob's your uncle. Doesn't work like that; you'll want to be stretched out and lubed up enough to make it as painless as possible."
Castiel was led to a changing room/bathroom and handed a bottle of unflavored lubricant. Dean and he both flushed at the same time. "I assume you'll be alright to…" Another vague gesture, another blush, another nod, and Dean smiled. "Okay then; I'll come get you in ten minutes or so – just gonna check up on some things and I'll be back." He clapped Castiel on the shoulder, smiling amiably, and then left, disappearing into the mass of people hurrying to, from, and around different sets and rooms. Castiel took a deep breath and pushed through the door into the room.
He'd gotten off to sticking fingers up his ass before. Hell, even one of his more adventurous girlfriends had wanted to lick him open and finger him while she blew him – that had been an interesting experience. But it's more awkward when you're doing it so that someone else can go there. It's weird, and scary. Castiel didn't realize his hands were shaking until he almost dropped the bottle of lubricant on the floor, blushing even though there was no one there to see his slip.
He went into one of the stalls, wanting as much privacy as possible, and hurriedly undid his pants. There was a moment where he just stood, pants around his ankles, staring at the bottle as though it were some rabid animal that wanted to eat his face off.
It's simple, he kept telling himself. Just do it, already. You're going to have sex; this is the easy part.
He closed his eyes, and the uncapping of the bottle seemed unbearably loud in the empty room. Taking a deep breath he squeezed some onto his fingers, letting it slip down and coat his palm slightly. The lube was cold and he rubbed his fingers together to warm it up, and it tingled slightly while it did so. Menthol. Nice.
He set the closed bottle down on the toilet lid, taking another deep breath as he rubbed his fingers together, stalling. He knew he didn't have much time but he couldn't seem to bring himself to just…reach around. It was awkward to picture, even more so to try.
Castiel found himself wondering if it wouldn't have just been easier to ask Dean to do it.
The sound of a door being pushed open shattered the silence of the bathroom. Castiel could hear the sounds of two people making out; the dull thud of someone getting pushed into a wall; the rustle of clothing falling to the floor; the muffled moans and grunts as they touched and teased each other. Castiel felt like a pervert, listening in on them (regardless of how vocal one of them was, and how hot the noises they were making were), but was at a loss of what to do, with his pants currently around his legs and his hand full of unused lube. That could get really awkward if he tried to leave.
"Fuck, Sammy, fuckin' whore for it, aren't ya?" Castiel recognized that voice. Gabriel; the loudmouth who wanted a 'twink'. Sam…Dean's little brother.
Oh God, Castiel was so eavesdropping. On Dean's little brother having sex with his partner or pair or whatever the hell Gabriel was to him. This was not happening; damn it.
The situation only got worse when his body began to respond. Castiel had always been responsive to voices and noises; it was one of the reasons Dean had gotten him off so well with his gorgeous, low, fucked-out…ness. Desperately Castiel dug his fingers into his palm, trying to distract himself with pain so his erection would go away, to no avail. Damn guys kept making noise; "Beg me for it, Sammy," he heard Gabriel growl, the other men's breathing heavy in the room to disguise his own; "Beg on your knees like a little whore."
Damn it, Sam, don't beg, Castiel pleaded inwardly, jamming his unlubed fist into his mouth. Please, please, please don't beg.
"You want me like this, Gabe? Hmm? Like getting me all hot and bothered for you?" Another voice, which must be Sam, said, the tone breathy and low – not as low as Dean, but just as raspy and raw. Castiel had only seen Sam for maybe a thirty second gap, but it was enough to remember his face and build, to get enough details for his over-ramped mind to create a stunning visual of Sam on his knees for Gabriel, sucking him in deep like his life depended on it. Damn teasing little twink and damn overactive mind and fuck. There was another sound of movement, then a heavy thud of someone being pushed onto the floor. Castiel presumed it was Sam.
"Think that's funny, huh?" Gabriel's voice was much, much darker now; almost threatening and incredibly tense. "Teasing little whore. I'll make you pay for that."
Castiel's heart was practically going into shock, unable to believe he was hearing this, and unable to do anything about it. His cock was hard and leaking, an almost painful throb between his legs, the reason he was in the bathroom forgotten in the face of what was happening outside his stall.
(Un)fortunately, the happy couple were interrupted.
"Oh! Dude! Come on!" Dean. Honest to God, Castiel had never had such mixed feelings about a person's entrance in his life. "I do not want to see that. Stop molesting my little brother!"
"Stop walking in on me molesting your little brother."
"Can it, Gabe. Is Cas in here?"
Shit. Hurriedly, Castiel grabbed the lube bottle, pulling up his pants as quickly as possible – damn, this was going to be embarrassing. His hand was still slick and sticky from the lubricant and he hastily tried to wipe it off on his pants leg. From the amount of heat he felt he was giving off, he was sure his cheeks were tomato-red. Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit!
"Cas? You mean that guy you're with today? Yeah, he's in the first stall on the right."
…Fuck. They'd known.
Honestly, what's the right response to that?
Hanging his head in shame, Castiel unlocked the door to the stall he was in and stepped out. True to his imagination, Sam was currently sprawled out along the floor, shirt unbuttoned and flaring out to his sides. Gabriel sat on his chest, both of them looking like they'd tried to suck each other's brains out through their mouths. Dean was still shirtless, arms crossed over his chest as he smirked between Cas and the two on the floor, seemingly uncaring about the scene he'd walked in on. All their expressions clearly said 'We know what you were up to in the stall. If you'd asked we would have let you watch'. It just made Castiel blush harder.
"Um…I'm sorry I…" He fidgeted, looking down, and Dean finally had mercy on him and stepped forward, taking his hand and pulling him towards the door.
"Just ignore those two yahoos. I do," he said, grinning and expertly dodging a kick Sam aimed his way, jostling Gabriel who had slid down to his lap. Gabriel playfully slapped Sam's chest, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'Bad bottom!'. Castiel tried not to smile and failed. "Come on, Cas, Chuck'll want us back in there soon."
"Play nice, Dean!" Sam called, grinning when his brother gave him the finger, rolling his eyes. "Try not to bite him too much."
"Gabriel, put his mouth to good use for me."
"Can do, boss."
"Bitch," came Dean's easily-drawled reply, and the bathroom door close behind him and Castiel, shutting out the sound of the other men's laughter. The room was still unoccupied when Dean led Castiel back in, the air smelling vaguely of sex and disinfectant, as well as the wood of the floor and a recent paint job. Castiel sat down on the couch, the lube bottle in his pocket digging into his thigh uncomfortably. With a grunt he fished it out and set it down. Dean saw.
"Before you were interrupted, did you manage to…?"
And just like that, the blush was back. Castiel twisted his fingers through each other, eyes pointedly down when he shook his head. "No," he murmured in answer. "I didn't get the chance to."
"Do you want some more time? I can make sure no one comes in the room and tell Chuck to give you another fifteen minutes," Dean said, already moving towards the door to carry out his offer. Castiel quickly gripped his forearm, stopping him.
He shook his head; "No. I mean…I couldn't do it…anyway. I was too…nervous, I guess." He saw Dean smirk; probably a knee-jerk reaction, before it was covered up just as quickly as it'd appeared. "I think I'd feel better if someone else did it. If…would you mind?"
Are you fucking kidding me? Dean could practically feel his eyes darkening. Castiel was just too fucking beautiful and innocent for his own good. Even though the guy was older than Dean, he looked so young at times, and so freaking pure, it was delicious. A shave and a smile would take three years off his face, easy.
"Lay down." His voice was a growl, he was sure of it, standing and breaking Castiel's grip as the other man sat back on the couch, looking up at Dean. "No, on your stomach." There was a brief flash of hesitance, and then Castiel rolled over. He hadn't put his shirt back on, and although the guy wasn't muscled he was well-toned – probably deceptively strong. The muscles in his back twitched, flexed and relaxed when Dean touched them, the younger man straddling Castiel's hips for a moment as he explored the exposed skin. He kept the touches light for the most part, gathering information on where he could touch that would be the most sensitive; too sensitive, not reactive at all. On the parts of Castiel's back where his fingers would elicit the most powerful reactions, he didn't touch with his tongue, not wanting to over stimulate the poor guy.
He was very sensitive along his spine and shoulders; carefully Dean dug his nails into the soft skin right below Castiel's shoulder blades and dragged them down, his eyes focused on the back of Castiel's head. The action provoked one long shudder and arch, Castiel fisting the leather of the couch tightly, bucking his hips so that they ground against Dean. Dean smirked, doing it again and again, glad to find that the guy didn't mind a bit of pain in his experience, and when Castiel finally gasped out a broken 'Please', Dean relented, placing a light kiss on Castiel's shoulder before he scooted down to between the man's legs.
Dean's hands were strong and sure when they took hold of Castiel's hips, forcing the man to arch upwards so that Dean could shed his last piece of clothing, pulling Castiel's pants down and off of him to pile on the floor. Pulling Castiel's legs until they were either side of him, he took one of the removable cushions and placed it under the older man's hips, wanting him to be as comfortable as possible for this.
Castiel finally turned to look at him when Dean leaned over, picking up and opening the bottle of lube. His eyes were dark with concern and restrained lust, and Dean gave his best reassuring smile, rubbing his palm along the small of Castiel's back for a moment.
"You okay?" he asked, waiting until Castiel nodded before he poured some of the lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together and waiting while it warmed. "Is there anything you want me to talk you through while we do this?"
Castiel nodded, figuring that at the very least he could concentrate on Dean's voice, and that it would help him relax through the preparation. "Just…keep talking to me," he said, unable to hide the small blush when he laid his head back on his folded arms, just able to watch Dean out of the corner of his eye; "Your voice is pleasant."
He felt it in his legs and abdomen when Dean laughed.
"Alright then," Dean replied, trailing his fingers over Castiel's entrance very lightly for a moment, watching. Castiel felt slightly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, tense when Dean's fingers made another pass, feeling the lube as a slippery buffer between their skin. "You've had fingers up your ass before, haven't you?"
Castiel almost choked at the bland, outright question. He looked back at Dean, whose face was set in an emotion he didn't quite recognize, before he nodded. "Done it to myself a couple of times, and one girl who was adventurous. Why do you ask?" Just play it cool, Cas, you're fine.
It took him a minute to realize he'd called himself 'Cas'.
Dean merely shook his head; "You didn't tense automatically. You knew what you were doing. If you were a real, honest-to-God-never-been-touched-there-before virgin I would have had to tell you to relax."
"You got a lot of experience deflowering virgins?" Castiel snapped, and ignored the little pang of something in his gut when Dean just grinned at him.
"I've had a few, but it's okay – it's better." Dean winked at Castiel, his smile turning downright predatory. "It means I get to be more adventurous, too."
"What do you -?" Castiel tried pushing himself up when Dean leant down, was stopped when the younger man kept him down with a hand right over his spine, and groaned, loud and long into the couch when he felt Dean's tongue. The guy was fucking licking him open, and God, that should not be as hot as it is. Castiel knew, from a biological point of view, that there were a lot of nerves around the…area (God, he can't even think it) and that it could be stimulated during sex…but that's just reading that sort of shit in a twelfth grade textbook. Actually feeling it was a whole different ball game.
Dean's tongue was practically a weapon of torture, his hands strong on Castiel's thighs, keeping the guy still as he licked inside, feeling the muscles clench and relax in rhythm; Castiel trying his best not to move back and force Dean in deeper. Dean was practically bent in half, pushing moisture into Castiel's tight passage and forcing him open as much as he could so that, when the time came for a first finger, the initial burn would be lessened.
Dean withdrew his tongue, licking over Castiel's entrance, and smirked when the man practically mewled, hips driving back to get more of him. God, Castiel was amazing. So responsive. It was a huge turn-on to see the guy a writhing mess just from his tongue. When Dean pushed a first well-lubed finger in he thought the guy was practically going to have a seizure, so hard was he shaking, but Castiel relaxed and took Dean's finger in all the way, low groan muffled against the leather.
That wouldn't do.
Dean knelt up, running a hand up Castiel's spine and knotting his fingers in the thick hair, pulling Castiel's head up so that Dean's mouth was right next to his ear; "Don't hide those pretty sounds from me," he said, making his voice a low growl that he was sure Castiel would be able to feel against his back. "Let go, Cas, let me hear you."
As though for extra incentive, he flicked his finger inside Castiel, stroking along the tight muscle and loving the feeling as Castiel clenched and moaned under him; God, he would have to get control of himself soon or he'll come before Chuck even gets back.
And damn. Dean might have to teach his brain to stop dropping reality bombs on him when he was enjoying himself so much.
But still, may as well take the opportunity…
"The cameras are gonna come closer," he said, still rumbling the words into Castiel's ear, though he'd let go of the other man's head in favor of supporting himself on his arm, so that Castiel wouldn't have to hold both of them up. Castiel tensed for a moment, muscles around Dean's finger clamping down tightly, causing him to stifle a very animal-like growl. "They're gonna want to see me fucking you, gonna want it from different angles, too, different positions." He withdrew his finger, adding a second – which was well-received from the look on Castiel's face – and began scissoring them slowly, gently, wanting to stretch Castiel enough to receive a third – and maybe a fourth; Dean was no small man.
Castiel whined when Dean started stroking his insides, and Dean smirked in triumph when he found that nerve-rich little nub inside Castiel, pressing and stroking around it while Castiel gasped and moaned, driving his hips back onto Dean's fingers to get more of that delicious contact.
And just when Dean thought he couldn't be surprised any more…
Castiel had one hell of a dirty mouth.
"How do you want me, Dean?" he said, turning so that they could both see each other clearly, his eyes bright and blue, half-hidden beneath his lashes, hair slightly wet from sweat and sticking to parts of his face; "Wanna fuck me just like this, from behind? Like an animal? Huh? Want to – oh God -." He stopped for a second when Dean's fingers – three now – dragged over his prostate again, "Want me to ride you, take you inside me as deep as you can go, or you want me spread underneath you, moaning and writhing and begging for it – for you. Not for the cameras – for you."
Dean was speechless, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as though he couldn't believe what he'd just heard – which okay, give the guy a break; Castiel had just turned into this fucking sexy, dirty talking gorgeous man that was currently fucking himself of Dean's fingers like he was born to do it.
Fuck, I'm so gone.
"Come on, Dean, tell me; how do you want me?" Castiel asked, turning, and through some strange maneuvering – which Dean was kind of out of it for, so he really can't be blamed here – Castiel ended up lying on the couch underneath Dean, their legs tangled together, Castiel's hands running everywhere from Dean's ass to the back of his head, to even catching hold of a jean-clad thigh and dragging it up to rest around his hip. Dean's fingers had been pulled out at the change in position but neither of them seemed to mind as Castiel dragged Dean down for a kiss, both of them unable to keep it going for very long, their breathing heavy and harsh and completely wrecked. "Just like this," Castiel gasped against Dean's jaw, grinding his hips slowly against Dean's when the younger man framed his face with his hands, smearing lube over Castiel's cheek and in his hair. They met again for a kiss, this time longer as they both tried to calm themselves down, Dean breaking away to rest his forehead against Castiel's, another epic staring match about to commence.
Then Dean smirked, dragging his fingers along Castiel's lube-covered cheek, pulling his fingers into his mouth to suck them clean; "No reason we can't do all three."
Fuck. He's going to kill me.
Someone cleared their throat loudly, and Castiel and Dean both turned their heads to see Chuck and the other camera crew staring at them, a little slack-jawed. Castiel felt a little smug about that; too smug to be embarrassed.
"So…We ready to go now?" Dean asked, grinning and totally not making any move to get off of Castiel.
Chuck shook himself out of whatever daze he'd gone into, scrubbing another hand over his face as he went back to his chair, setting up the camera again. "Holy hell, Dean; that was possibly one of the hottest things I've ever seen. I'm glad I left a camera running."
Chuck smirked a little, shrugging in a 'What ya gonna do?' kind of way. "I had a feeling you guys might give us some gold between shots. And it looks like I was right. Trust me, Dean…just…damn. I'm…yeah….Damn."
And Dean considered that a compliment, because he was pretty sure Chuck was one hundred percent straight (and in love with Becky, the customer relations girl) so him being affected by the gay porn was either secret desires waiting to come out, or legitimately good film material. Dean was willing to let it slide.
So was Cas, apparently. "We gonna do this now?" he asked, looking up at Dean and rolling his hips, just once, but it was enough to remind Dean that he was wearing way too many clothes and that Castiel was naked and beautiful and ready for him. Yeah, they should have started doing this yesterday.
"Fuck, yes," Dean growled, excited to finally be inside Castiel, and he pulled away so that he could pull off his jeans; fuck Chuck – if the camera wasn't ready then they could make up what happens here. Dean's fucking ready. He set about shedding his jeans when Castiel scooted off the couch, crouching in front of him and pushed Dean's hands away; he undid Dean's jeans himself. Slowly, torturously slowly, mouthing at the hard line of Dean's cock and the skin below his navel as he pulled the jeans down, letting Dean step out of them himself.
Castiel licked at the vein on the underside, providing just a little extra slick before he stood up, looking up their small height difference at Dean, and pushed Dean down onto the couch. "Want to ride you, first," he said and Dean nodded enthusiastically, grabbing his cock around the base and holding it for Castiel to sink down to.
It was probably the better option – Castiel could control the pace this way.
As Dean pushed past that first tight ring of muscle, Castiel sucked in a breath, fingers tightening where they'd landed on Dean's shoulders. Dean's hands found Castiel's hips, rubbing soothing little circles with his thumbs as Castiel sank further down, watching Castiel's face closely for any sign of pain.
Behind him, Castiel could hear the people and equipment shift; knew that they would start coming closer, so he lost himself in the feeling of Dean; thick, hot, solid, sliding into him. He sank down as far as he could in the one go, hearing distantly Dean's voice, telling him not to hurt himself, and listened; waiting, relaxing and going again. Once he was fully seated on top of Dean, he opened his eyes, finding Dean's bright, intense green staring right back at him, pleasure and affection and concern mixing in his face. When Castiel clenched experimentally, momentarily making himself tighter for Dean, the younger man gasped, throwing his head back as his hands dug into Castiel's hips.
"Fuck, Cas…" Experimentally, Dean shifted his hips, causing Castiel to sink further onto him and they both let out twin moans. Then, bracing himself on his knees, Castiel lifted himself up and sank down again. "God, so fucking tight…" Then words were lost as Dean moved one hand to grab the back of Castiel's head, sealing their lips together as Castiel continued to move on top of him, riding him slowly.
Castiel could practically feel the cameras around them, and tried to make it more of a show; he kept most of the motion to his hips, rolling them to create the same sort of rhythm as his movements had been. Periodically gasping into Dean's mouth, Castiel let Dean know whenever the action had brushed his prostate, and so Dean tried to keep that happening every time. He almost managed it.
Castiel had no idea how long they kept that up; kissing, more like breathing into each other, muttered moans and gasps of each other's name and different profanities the only break in their breathing, which was heavy and loud in the otherwise almost-silent room. It could have been hours or years or minutes, but he didn't want to stop. Even when his legs began to hurt from moving and he felt like he had to come or die, he didn't want to stop. It felt too good.
But then Dean tightened his grip, slowing Castiel's movement until they were at a stop, and then pulled Castiel off of him. The older man almost whimpered at the loss, until Dean pulled him upright, pointedly not looking at the cameras as they shifted and moved around them, always professional, and Dean pulled Castiel, manhandling him until he was bent over one of the edges of the couch. Understanding, Castiel spread his legs, bracing himself and fisted his hands in the leather, waiting for Dean. One of the cameras situated itself in front of his face, close but not uncomfortable and he felt another take residence behind him and Dean, able to capture it perfectly when Dean pushed in, sinking himself into the hilt in one smooth push.
Castiel groaned, feeling his body split and open to accept Dean, the younger man pushing deeper into his body than the other position had allowed. One of Dean's hands pushed against his inner thigh, forcing his legs wider for the camera, but the other was stroking and soothing along Castiel's back and spine – that touch, that was all for him.
Every one of Dean's thrusts was slow but hard; Castiel could feel them in his throat. He turned his head away from the camera, meeting Dean's eyes as he clenched again, on purpose, and watched with a sort of smug satisfaction when Dean shuddered to a halt, buried inside of him, eyes falling closed and a muffled profanity falling from between his clenched teeth. The younger man was shaking, fingers digging periodically into his handholds on Castiel's body, trying to hold himself back. Castiel wondered vaguely if they were even going to make it to the third position.
Dean could have sobbed with relief when Chuck, manning the camera in front of Castiel, gave him the 'Go ahead' sign to finish this. Normally he would have been fine – his lasting time was definitely not being called into question here – but Castiel was so tight, suffocatingly tight, and he kept fucking clenching and making those noises like he'd been doing this all his life, like a fucking pro, and it was too much, seeing and being responsible for this man turning from a innocent little twink to a hardcore porn star with a mouth made of sin.
Time to finish this. The thought sounded feral even in his head.
He pulled out all the way, hissing slightly as Castiel's body tightened even more, wanting to force him back inside, but once he was fully out Castiel turned onto his back without hesitation, eyes wide and mouth parted as he stared up at Dean. The younger man growled, practically jumping on Castiel as he sealed their lips together, desperate to get as close to this delicious, beautiful man as he possibly could. Hell, if it was possible he would want to crawl inside Castiel and never come out.
Which is dangerous territory – getting attached – but damn it, he was an 'in the moment' kind of guy. He could roll with it.
It seemed like Castiel was doing his damndest to achieve the same thing; his hands and legs encircled Dean, pulling him close, his tongue exploring and tasting as much of Dean as he could. They breathed in each other, touched each other, and Dean ate Castiel's moan when he pushed inside Castiel once again. The older man was burning up under Dean's touch, flushed and sweaty and so fucking beautiful it almost hurt to look at him.
There were no words shared as Dean set up a rhythm again – faster this time, desperate almost. Needy in the way Dean held Castiel close, refused to let any part of them not touch. Any time Castiel broke away to breathe – deep, panting gulps of air – Dean never stopped, kissing and mapping out Castiel's jaw, cheek and neck with his tongue. His hands were bruising on Castiel's body, the sounds he was making more and more animalistic as he approached his climax.
When Dean reached between them, wrapping one hand around Castiel's hard cock and before jerking the older man off, it was all over. Castiel arched, gasped and flew. Coming harder than he had in a long, long time, he spilled into Dean's hand and onto his stomach, feeling Dean shudder to a halt inside of him, set off by the clench and spasm of his muscles. The younger male gave two more thrusts and stilled, coming inside Castiel.
The cameras started to back off as they came down, panting like they'd sprinted the marathon. Dean was shaking so badly he had no idea how he was kept upright on his unsteady arms, leaning down and kissing Castiel once more; he wouldn't be able to do this for long, so he wanted to get as much in as he could before Castiel was paid and left. His fingers uncurled from around Castiel's spent cock, and he moved to wipe the come off his hand but Castiel caught him, dragging his fingers up and wrapping his lips around them. Dean felt heat rush through him again when Castiel licked and sucked at his fingers, cleaning them of his own come, before he let them fall away and kissed Dean again, letting them share the taste.
"Fucking hell," he heard someone say. One of the other crew guys, he imagined, but didn't care enough to look. He listened in an abstract sort of way as Chuck and his crew packed up the cameras – turning all of them off, this time – and left the room, leaving the two men on their own for a moment. Castiel appreciated that.
The moment seemed too intimate – unbearably so, knowing that this was just a one-off, that he was getting paid to do it, that it probably meant nothing to Dean but another day's work – but it was so good that Castiel didn't want to stop. He wanted to keep kissing Dean forever, which is stupid, but it's how he felt.
He almost whimpered in loss when Dean finally pulled out of him, careful not to hurt him on the exit. It twinged a little but it was manageable. Contrary to what Castiel expected, he didn't pull away; he didn't even break the kiss. One hand brushed at Castiel's hair, as tenderly as a lover, stroking a thumb over his cheek as Dean met him again and again, never refusing his lips, and his body rested, sated and warm, over Castiel's, solid but careful not to crush the lighter man.
"God, Cas…" It seemed like something needed to be said. Soon enough someone would come in and demand they leave – the room needed to be used again, after all. They weren't the only two in the world, although for a second it sure as hell seemed like it. Dean broke away finally, regretfully, resting his forehead against Castiel's. Bright green eyes pierced through Castiel, making him feel more vulnerable than he had been before, exposed for the cameras; "Could kiss you all day."
Castiel bit his lower lip, flushing a little – though he could blame that on the sex – and smiled at Dean, framing one side of his face with a hand. "Me too. That was…I'm glad it…I'm glad it was you." So he was stuttering, mumbling the sentiment; so what? It's a little awkward; he hadn't even known the guy a day.
But Dean's answering smile was radiant, and so worth any awkwardness. "I'm glad it was me, too." And he kissed Castiel again, this time more chaste, before getting up from the couch and pulling Castiel with him. He grabbed his jeans and Castiel's pants, holding his clothes out to Castiel. "Come on; get dressed before we go back out."
Castiel obliged, pulling on the pants which were now slightly stiff from the dried lube he'd wiped on them earlier – that'd be a bitch to get out. A few minutes' searching also found his and Dean's shirts, and he tossed Dean's to him, sliding his own over his shoulders. By the time he'd buttoned up most of the buttons, Dean was dressed and ready to go, hands shoved into his pockets, rocking on his heels.
"Ready?" he asked with a smile, and Castiel nodded, following Dean when he was led back to Bobby's office. There was a pleasant ache throughout his body, like one gets the morning after a good workout; he couldn't help smile at the thought that he would be able to feel Dean for a while after he was gone. That wasn't an unwelcome thought at all.
There was another man in Bobby's office when Dean and Castiel walked in, who Castiel immediately recognized from his phone interview from his voice when he stood; "Alright, so you guys are done? Fantastic." He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out an envelope and handing it to Castiel, who took it, and opened it, seeing several hundred dollar bills inside. "Dean, we want you ready to shoot the next one in an hour, downstairs." Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel saw Dean's hands clench. "It was nice meeting you Castiel, perhaps we can talk again sometime." And then the guy left, leaving the two of them alone in the room.
"Fucking Adler," Dean growled under his breath, before turning to Castiel. "Don't worry about him; he's a Grade A douchebag." Scrubbing a hand over his face, Dean sighed heavily again before turning to look at Castiel. To the older man it seemed like Dean had aged several years over that one conversation.
Neither of them moved, just staring at each other, around the room, waiting for one of them to speak or say or do something. Finally Castiel broke the silence; "You don't like the idea of shooting again in an hour."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Going downstairs means…well, never mind. I'll deal." He shrugged, nonchalant, but Castiel desperately – desperately – wanted to know what the end of that sentence was. Hell, he wanted to stay and change that order. "Listen, Cas…" Dean trailed off, shifting his weight as he looked to the ground. (Im)patiently, Castiel waited for him to continue; "Today was amazing, don't get me wrong; I like you. Enough that I really don't want to see you here ever again." Dean smirked, and it didn't reach his eyes. "But…aw, Hell."
Castiel could almost hear Dean's mental 'Fuck it', before the younger man tore a post-it from Bobby's desk and a pen, scrawling down his name and number before handing it to Castiel. "If you're ever in the neighborhood or want to have a drink sometime…or something…I'd like to see you again, in different circumstances."
Castiel blinked at the post-it, before taking it, staring at the number as though it would disappear if he took his eyes off of it. "Thank you, Dean," he said, finally lifting his eyes to meet Dean's, and the utter relief he saw there was staggering. "I mean it," he said, seeming to need to drive the point home. "For today, everything…thank you."
"Don't mention it." Okay, he was making Dean uncomfortable now. That was okay – Castiel tended to have that effect on people. "I'm glad to do it."
Another slightly not-awkward-but-not-comfortable silence, and Castiel finally sighed. "I'd best be getting home."
"Take care of yourself, okay?"
"I will. Thank you, Dean."
God, don't go. Dean's mind was practically screaming at him to stop the man from turning and walking out the door, back to his perfect life with his job selling ad space and his friend who drove him here and his peers and co-workers and possible girlfriend who would see Dean's marks on Castiel's body and wonder where they came from. But he didn't, because that's just not how he rolls. He had no right to tell Castiel to stay, so he let him go.
He had about fifty minutes to kill. Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face again and went to find Chuck – he wanted to start looking over the film for scenes that they could just say 'No' to right away before he had to go downstairs. Downstairs, where people like Alistair and Azazel and Crowley liked to play – the sadists with their whips and chains and leather and instruments. Dean was no vanilla player, but the whole 'BDSM' thing was just wrong in his opinion; you shouldn't need pain to get your partner off.
He found Chuck in the editing room, uploading the recent shoot onto his 'must be created by God because nothing human ever worked that fast' computer. Images flashed across the screen of Dean kissing Castiel, pulling him down to the couch, lying under him and driving him crazy with his hands and tongue and hips. Dean felt his mouth go dry already, just watching it.
"That was quite a movie you made today, Dean," Chuck said, because he was one of those people who felt like all silences should be broken with inane little comments.
Dean smiled, clapping his friend/director on the shoulder. "Thanks, Chuck. I just hope the viewers like it. Make sure you send a copy to Cas as well, alright?"
"Zachariah already organized it. He'll get a copy as soon as the stores do."
There was another silence, then; "You guys seemed to really click."
"It happens sometimes, Chuck."
"Yeah, I know. It's just…" He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the screen. "It's amazing, you know Dean. You don't usually interact like that. And the viewers will eat it up. You know what'll happen if Zachariah gets good enough ratings."
Dean winced; he did know. It was why Sammy had been brought back into the business after attending Stanford for a law degree, having escaped (left) John's business to branch off on his own. After school he hadn't been able to get a job and had been forced back here. It sucked but it was the truth; if the people liked Cas enough, he'd be called back.
Dean wasn't sure if he was happy about that or not.