Put on the Red Light.
It has been five months since Castiel's first appointment with Dean Winchester. Five months and now Dean has graduated past badly spelt emails and instant messages and became one of the very few clients Castiel has ever given his cell phone number too. Dean calls him often, sometimes not even to hook up but just to chat to him and Castiel should be upset with him because Dean is tying up the line and one of those other select clients might want to call him but he doesn't hang up on him. As long as Dean doesn't masturbate during the phone call, then Castiel doesn't bill him for it either.
Dean became a regular quickly. For the first month he saw Castiel only when he was stressed. He never told Castiel that but it was easy to tell. He wanted to fuck hard, rough, pounding into Castiel and taking out all his anger on his body, coming across his back in the final act of humiliation. He left bruises. He handed Castiel money without looking him in the eye. Castiel could have grown to hate him for that. The first time together had been slow, different and Castiel wanted more of that. He didn't simply want to be stress relief.
The second month they eased into a routine. Dean saw him on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings. Wednesday was nothing more than straight up sex. Sometimes all Castiel did was blow him. Most of the time Dean was happy to wear a condom. Sunday morning was slow, lazy sex with Dean's cock buried tight inside him, Dean refusing to wear a condom or even think of pulling out when he came. He pushed in deeper, so deep that Castiel felt him for the rest of the day but he didn't care. Sometimes he didn't bother to wash away the traces of where Dean had touched him. Sunday was a slow day. Most of his clients went home on Sunday and pretended to be good family men. Castiel would lie in his own bed, in his own apartment, fingering himself open and feel how sloppy he was with Dean's come. He would come from that, from remembering Dean holding him close, drawing it out and then making Castiel fall apart. Dean never wanted to touch his cock but he always made Castiel come on their Sundays together. He seemed to see it as some grand achievement that he could force an orgasm from Castiel just by fucking him.
In some ways Castiel lives for Sundays and in other ways he dreads them. Sunday is his favorite day of the week. On Saturday evening he's always jumpy, high on expectation and more than a few times Michael's pulled him aside if they're at the same place and asked him if Castiel is using again. He doesn't need to use. He's on a high that's better than anything he ever used to take. Those things numbed him, took away the feeling. Being with Dean is addicting because he feels everything. That's why he also dreads Sundays. He knows that eventually the day will end. He knows that he'll walk away from Dean's house, they stopped the pretext of renting rooms around the third month, and he'll call a cab from two blocks away. Eventually he has to wash, clean himself so Dean and his touch and his come aren't anywhere on him anymore. Eventually Monday comes and it's some other man lying on top of him, grunting and sweating and Castiel will wish he was back at Dean's.
It's worse than using because Castiel will never get the fix he craves. He can only have little tastes, little testers of what it would be like to be a part of Dean's life and then it's gone again. Castiel is the hidden part of Dean's world, the secret he can't share with anyone. Dean isn't comfortable enough with his sexuality to fuck anyone but a rent boy. Castiel shouldn't allow himself to think that there could be anything more between him and Dean than the exchange of money and bodily fluids, but on Sundays he finds that hard to believe.
It's a Wednesday when everything changes.
Castiel isn't expecting much. He strips as soon as he's through the door, hanging his coat up, throwing his tie carelessly over the banister, unbuttoning his shirt. Dean is waiting for him, sitting on the couch, already naked. It should worry Castiel that they know each other well enough now that Dean never locks his front door when Castiel is coming over, and Castiel doesn't worry about anyone walking in on them. From the few times they've talked about Dean's family, Castiel knows that no one lives too close.
He has two brothers and a father. Both of his brothers are bright, off at college, one training to be a lawyer and the other to be a doctor. His father is more difficult to pin down. Castiel is almost certain he's the man in Dean's life who frightened him, who made him consider his sexuality a burden and something to hide. Dean is obviously in awe of his father. Castiel can only see a rough, cruel man who pushed his son's away but Dean speaks about him with love and it hurts Castiel to see him want to please someone who can't be pleased.
Everyone in Dean's life is absent in some way so there is no one to disturb them. He finishes undressing and crawls into Dean's lap. He's come from another job so he's wet and stretched already. Castiel palmed a condom as he slipped out of his trousers and he starts to open the packet when Dean stops him. He takes the condom and wordlessly tosses it aside. Castiel narrows his eyes slightly. They're doing this bareback tonight then. Dean still hasn't said a thing to him. He watches him, eyes slightly glassy like he's been drinking as Castiel rises himself up, gripping Dean's hard cock firmly in places and then sinks back on it.
Dean is significantly bigger than his last client and Castiel hesitates for a long moment, clutching at his own thighs, fingers digging into the skin as he waits for himself to adjust. Wednesday night is about being rough. Castiel can take it, but he needs a little time to get used to it. He's not as young as he used to be, his body doesn't bounce back so quickly. Maybe it never did, maybe it was all the drugs he was taking at the time made him forget about the pain but he feels it now, every stretch of his muscles as he shifts to take Dean inside him.
One long, drawn out breathe and he sinks down fully, feeling Dean in places that other man couldn't hope to reach. Dean is so achingly hard. Castiel wonders if he was touching himself before he arrived or if he was getting off on waiting for it, on denying himself the release he so obviously wanted until he was inside Castiel.
Dean's arms encircle him, sudden and almost too tight. For a moment they're just looking at each other, blue eyes meeting green, and then slowly Dean moves forward. The kiss is so unexpected that Castiel doesn't close his eyes, doesn't sink into it. He doesn't know what to do. Dean has never kissed him. It's been off-limits like so many things are with Dean and Castiel never does anything that his clients don't ask for or initiate first. It isn't as if kissing is somehow more intimate than fucking, but from Dean the kiss is shocking.
Finally Dean seems to register his hesitation and he pulls back, confusion spreading across his face.
"Am I not allowed to do that?" he asks.
Castiel almost wants to laugh but he fights it back. Everything they do is because Dean wants it. Dean might pick and choose off a list, he might pay for it but he gets everything he wants. If he wants to kiss Castiel then he can kiss him. Even if this was one of Castiel's rules, he knows he'd break it for Dean. They're in Dean's house. He hasn't told Michael where he's going because he knows Michael would be angry with him. Dean could kill him, dismember him and hide him under his floorboards and no one would know. Castiel is so long past remembering his rules when he's with Dean. Dean who comes down his throat and in his ass, who he never makes wear a condom and who he long ago stopped charging extra for the privilege that only he gets. Dean could probably ask him to do anything and Castiel would.
"No, you can kiss me," he says, waiting for Dean to try again and when he does this time Castiel relaxes into it. He can taste the beer in Dean's mouth. He's been drinking but not enough that Castiel thinks they need to stop. It's as if Dean has taken the edge off. He's not holding back. He's tender again, holding Castiel so close to him. Castiel moves slowly, rocking back on Dean's cock, little shifts of his hips so that Dean isn't ever really out of him. He can't bear to lose the connection of Dean inside him. The press of Dean's cock inside him, right against his prostate over and over again, makes him rock hard in only a few minutes. Castiel wishes he could get it up so quickly for other clients, clients who'd appreciate it more.
He wiggles and whimpers into the kiss, trying to move so his cock isn't rubbing up against Dean's stomach with every thrust. He doesn't want to disturb Dean. Everything is so good now, he doesn't want to break Dean's concentration. He's fighting a losing battle though because every time he pulls away, Dean drags him back. Eventually Castiel stops struggling. He groans as his cock brushes against the soft warmth of Dean's stomach. Dean isn't all tone and muscle. He's got a bit of weight around his middle, probably from all the bad living he seems to indulge in but Castiel likes that about him. He likes everything about Dean.
Dean breaks the kiss, looking down between them and for a second Castiel is uncertain about what Dean will do but then Dean grins, all lazy pride and unwraps one arm from around Castiel, reaching between them to run his fingers over Castiel's cock.
"Look at this pretty little thing, Cas," he mummers. "Look at how hard I've got you. You love having my cock in you, don't you? Makes you come every time, doesn't it? Fucking you feels so good, Cas. You take it so well."
Castiel nods. He can't do dirty talk. He just moans in agreement and squeezes tight around Dean's cock inside of him, hoping that's enough to tell Dean how much he likes what he does to him. Dean bites his lip, head tipping back and he grasps Castiel's cock in his fist, jerking him roughly.
"I'm gonna make you come, Cas. I'm gonna make you come so hard that you never get enough of me. This is such a pretty little cock, looks so good. I bet it tastes good too, Cas. Would you like that? Would you like me to blow you? Maybe I should finger you too? You like something in your ass don't you?"
"Yes," Castiel whispers, eyes blown wide from pleasure. Even on Sunday mornings Dean is never usually like this. He's never touched Castiel's cock before. Everything is new and it's all too much. Castiel can't take everything. Dean always talks dirty to him, tells him how much he likes doing this to him but now Dean's dirty talk is focused on Castiel's pleasure and Castiel can feel himself throbbing, can feel all the tell-tale signs that he's close. Hardly anyone wants to pleasure a whore. Castiel can't remember the last time someone went down on him. He closes his eyes, thinks about Dean's mouth on him and comes in hot spurts over Dean's chest and stomach.
Dean laughs, a warm rumble in his chest and then he moves them so Castiel is pinned under him on the couch. He's so careful with Castiel, his strokes slow and shallow, as if he knows that Castiel is still riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm. Castiel turns his head away because he can't look at Dean, not like this. He's overstimulated, his hole clenching tight around the cock buried inside of him, every nerve ending sore, and Dean looks so beautiful fucking into him, his face creased in concentration, trying to reach his own end. It would be too easy to think any of this meant something. It would be easy to imagine they were lovers.
Dean groans, fingers digging into Castiel's hips hard enough to leave a bruise, and then he comes, shoving himself all the way back inside Castiel, as deep as he can and Castiel squirms because it hurts and it feels good in equal measures. A moment later Dean collapses on top of him, his cock softening inside Castiel but he doesn't pull out.
"You want to go again?" Castiel laughs, turning his head so he can look at Dean's face. Dean's cheeks are flushed, his smile tired but there is a look of triumph on his face. He leans forward and kisses Castiel again, soft this time.
"I've been wanting to do that for weeks," he mumbles against Castiel's lips. "Fuck, Cas, you are something else."
Castiel gives in to the desire to wrap his arms around Dean and presses their mouths together, taking first before Dean asks it. For a moment or two he can indulge and forget that this is a cash transaction. Finally Dean shifts, breaking the kiss and reminds Castiel how sore he is. He has to work tomorrow. He has appointments. He can't put them off because Dean fucked him too hard the night before. Dean seems to understand that because he pulls out of Castiel, his soft cock hanging limply between his legs and Castiel has to fight the urge to go down on his knees and lick him till he's hard again. It's unhygienic. Castiel has never been a fan of doing things that could make him sick but he finds Dean hard to resist. Dean moves over him again, lying until they're pressed together, entwining his fingers with Castiel.
"Stay the night?" he asks and Castiel nods quickly. He doesn't want to see Dean look worried even for a second. If Castiel gets Dean to set an alarm clock then he can be back at his apartment washed and dressed, ready to go to his next appointment. He might be a few minutes late but he'll make it work for Dean. It seems as if Dean is ready to fall asleep on the couch, crushing Castiel beneath him. Castiel is content to lay there, Dean's weight a constant reminder that this is real. He wonders why Dean has been drinking, what's upset him because Dean is never like this normally – there are no kisses, no aftermath has never been this sweet - and Castiel knows something must have happened. He doesn't know if he should ask or just accept Dean's attention; soak it up for all he can get.
Finally Dean moves, pulling away from him and for a second Castiel clings, their hands still joined together and then Dean sits up, running a hand through his short messy hair, grinning.
"Guess I should put you to bed, right? The couch isn't that comfy," he says, hauling Castiel up after him. The steps up to the bedroom are harder than normal, Castiel leans heavily against Dean, feels Dean's come slipping from him and he clenches tightly, trying to trap it in him. Finally they collapsed together on Dean's bed, Dean smiling fondly at Castiel, stroking his fingers across Castiel's cheek and kissing him again.
"What if you didn't have to go to work tomorrow? Would you stay all day?" he asks.
Castiel turns onto his side, looking up at Dean, staring at him for a long moment.
"Yes," he says finally, wondering if Dean is playing a game with him, asking him questions till Castiel gets one wrong and then he'll find some reason to be angry with him, to remind himself that Castiel is just a whore. Castiel feels his stomach clench unpleasantly and he doesn't mention money. Money is such a vulgar thing. He'd sleep with Dean without the money. In so many ways that was a cardinal sin, moving from paying client to free sex. Castiel was the one who lost in the equation, Dean still got what he'd always wanted and Castiel didn't have the money his time was worth. Michael had always told him never to fall for a client but Castiel's heart hadn't listened to him. It wasn't something conscious that Castiel could control and from the beginning he would have been loath to turn away Dean's bookings.
"What if I asked you not to go tomorrow? What if I told you to stop it?" Dean asks, propping himself up on his elbow so he can look down at Castiel's face. The seconds tick by as Castiel reminds himself of everything he's gained, the money and the security, and that Dean isn't offering him anything.
"Dean…." he murmurs, turning his face away so he doesn't have to look Dean in the eye. They both know what he's saying. That he can't give it up. This is all Castiel has known for all his adult life. If he stops working, if he skips appointments he'll get a reputation as being unreliable. It took him so long to crawl to the top and he doesn't want to sink back down. It would be so easy to end up on street corners again, far too easy and would Dean want him then? When Castiel went with just anyone? Would he want him if Castiel had to go back to numbing himself to get through the day? Or would Dean finish with him when he realized that Castiel wasn't some sex toy he could grab when he needed him but a living, breathing person who craved Dean with an intensity that was terrifying to Castiel.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this way. He didn't think he'd ever needed someone the way he needed Dean. It was painful, an ache in his chest when he wasn't with him.
Dean grabs Castiel's arms, holding him tightly, forcing him to look back at him. Dean's fingers are tight, biting into the skin on the frightening edge of painful. His eyes are blazing.
"Don't you hate it? All those guys fucking you, using you? You're worth more than that, Cas."
"It's my job," Castiel bites out angrily. Dean doesn't understand. Castiel has more self-worth now then he's ever had at any other time in his life. This is all he knows but he's good at it, he's managing himself. He makes the rules, he enforces them. It's only Dean who doesn't follow them.
"Quit and get another job, it's degrading."
"You hired me. You didn't seem to think it was degrading when you were the one fucking me," Castiel snarls. It wasn't more than five minutes ago that they were rutting together on Dean's couch but Dean thinks he's different from the other men who pay Castiel for sex. He doesn't think they could be attractive, or that Castiel might enjoy sex with them and for the most part he's right but Castiel doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that. He doesn't want Dean to gloss over the truth of how they met, that Dean found him trawling through gay escort websites.
Dean lets go of him, recoiling as if Castiel is fire and Dean's been burned by him.
"Do you hate it, Cas? Do you hate me? Wish I didn't touch you? Wish I kept my mouth shut when we fuck so you could just forget what you're doing? Wish you were anywhere but under me?" he asks, mouth twisting as if the words leave a nasty taste behind them.
"No, I…." Castiel reaches out, trying to touch his face but Dean turns away quickly.
"Fuck it, Cas. I am not this guy, I don't do this. It was just you and now all I can think about is those other men touching you and I'm as bad as they are." His hands clench into fists and Castiel shakes his head, wanting Dean to understand that he isn't like the other men Castiel sees, that he makes Castiel feel things he'd never known before. Dean isn't taking advantage of him. Castiel would give it all to him willingly, does give it all to him.
"No, Dean…." he tries again but Dean pushes him away. He turns away, drawing the covers up around him like a wall between the two of them.
"Just go, Cas. I'm not gonna….I won't bother you anymore," he whispers.
Castiel reaches out, hand hovering over Dean's shoulder for a moment, wanting so badly to touch him but then Dean hunches his shoulders, burrowing down deeper into the bed, resolutely staring at the opposite wall and Castiel doesn't know what to do. He thinks his whole world is shattering into pieces around him but he can't find the words to make it stop. He committed an unforgivable offense. He reminded Dean that he was just another client, another man who saw money as a means to sexual gratification. Michael had always told him that it was the most offensive thing Castiel could remind a client of. He should never break the fantasy and that was what Castiel had done.
It was worse though, so much worse because it was Dean and Dean had been Castiel's exception. He had allowed Dean everything without hesitation and then he'd made it seem as if Dean was just the same as every other man he saw when Dean was so much more to him. Shakily he got out of bed. The trip down the stairs seemed to take forever and Castiel paused at the bottom, waiting, hoping that Dean would come after him. He collected his clothes, dressing slowly and paused again at the front door but there was no noise from upstairs. Dean hadn't reconsidered.
Castiel let himself out into the night air. He walked and walked, not even caring where he was going, just needing to get as far away from Dean as he could before he went back and begged Dean to forgive him.
It takes Castiel till he reaches his apartment to realize that Dean didn't pay for their time together.
The next few days pass in a blur. Castiel checks his phone, his email, waiting for a message from Dean but none is forthcoming. Sometimes he convinces himself that if he just waits then Dean will contact him. He goes to work, struggles to stay engaged or interested in his dates or the sex they're having. The fact that none of them comment on how listless he is, how some of them seem to prefer it, makes Castiel feel dead inside. Dean would have noticed if he hadn't enjoyed himself, Dean would have tried to make sure he did. For the first time in a long time Castiel craves pills. He dreams of something that will stop him from feeling the ache in his heart. He almost walks past his old neighborhood, just in the hopes of meeting one of his suppliers but they've all moves on, the area has changed. There is a police presence there now and Castiel slinks away because he knows the faces of a few of the officers and they know him.
Michael calls to check on him and lets Castiel spill the whole story. He listens patiently, far nicer then he has to be and then tells Castiel in no uncertain terms that he was lucky it ended when it did. Dean wouldn't be the first man to get off on the idea that he could save the prostitute he went to bed with. Michael reminds him kindly that Dean doesn't really know Castiel, doesn't know what he's been through and what he's done. He sees the pretty face of the man who brings him pleasure and nothing else. It's hard to face reality but Castiel makes himself because he'll be stronger for it.
The days drag into weeks and Dean still doesn't contact him. Castiel doesn't get in touch with him either, but he can't bring himself to delete Dean's number from his phone. He looks at it sometimes, finger tracing over the number and he could call but what would he say? Castiel wasn't wrong. Dean and he weren't together. Everything they'd had had been smoke and mirrors. They had just been deluding themselves that it was anything more.
Crowley is a rich client so Castiel pretends he's a favorite. Crowley flies all over the country for business and occasionally to Europe. In a way Castiel likes him because Crowley is all business. There's never any pretense. He might buy Castiel dinner and drinks first, they might go to a nice hotel but Crowley isn't fooling himself. The sex is what he's after. Castiel is very obedient the whole way through the evening, Crowley orders everything for him just as Crowley will order everything in the bedroom.
Castiel drinks champagne, feels light-headed and drinks more than he normally allows himself. He wants to forget everything, forget what he's doing here tonight. He thought if he would ever hate himself for his job then it would be when he was working the streets, not when he was established and with a good client base. It makes Castiel feel worse in a way. He's playing at being successful but it's all just a façade. None of this makes Castiel happy. He wonders if it ever did.
Crowley tips their waiter extravagantly, slips his arm around Castiel and they stagger out of the hotel bar together. Castiel wants to laugh because Crowley is shorter than him and he's had almost as much to drink as Castiel has, but he stops himself because vaguely he knows that won't be a good thing. Crowley has problems getting hard when he's drunk and he takes those problems out on Castiel. It doesn't matter, not when he pays the extra he does, but Castiel has never gotten off on pain and the bruises Crowley gives him make it hard to sit for days. The knowledge of what awaits him upstairs in the expensive hotel room sobers him up quickly. Suddenly Castiel doesn't care about money or security or the fact that selling his body is all he's ever known. All he wants is to be somewhere else where men don't pay him to hit him.
He stumbles away from Crowley, towards the lobby of the hotel.
"I'm sorry, I can't," he says, a wave of nausea rising up in his throat, threatening to spill out of his mouth. His legs shake and Castiel doesn't know how he holds himself up but he does somehow.
Crowley leans against the wall and he no longer looks relaxed and pleased the way he did in the hotel bar when Castiel was good and compliant.
"I paid for you, you'll do what I tell you to do," he says, a hint of mild irritation in his voice and Castiel wonders why he went along with this, why he convinced himself for years that he was the one in control when it came to these men simply because he made them choose what they did to him from a list. He still never wanted a single one of them on him, apart from Dean. Dean had always been different.
"No, I won't," he says, pulling himself up and he meets Crowley's eye because he won't be cowed, not when he's finally made his mind up to do this. "Because I'm quitting."
Crowley's face twists into something ugly. "I'll make sure your name is mud, you little whore."
Castiel doesn't know if Crowley means in business circles or in the profession but he doesn't care. He'd do the dead-end, nightshift, grubby jobs no one else wants because none of them can be as grubby as lying under a man like Crowley while he uses him. There is freedom in walking away from him. Crowley shouts after him, calls him all the names under the sun but Castiel doesn't listen to him.
When he gets outside he fumbles in his pocket for his phone. His fingers find Dean's number and he calls him, feverish with excitement because for what feels like the first time ever Castiel is the one calling the shots.
He gets Dean's voice mail and his knees go weak when he hears Dean's voice telling him to leave a message. He stands under a streetlight, bathing in its orange glow and just repeats "I quit, I quit," until the phone beeps at him and tells him his message is recorded.
Then he goes home to bed and sleep better than he's done in years.
His phone buzzing wakes him up. Castiel grabs it and realizes that Dean is the one calling him. The evening before rushes back to him and for a second Castiel thinks he will be sick because he threw everything away in one blind moment but then he answers the phone and as soon as Dean's voice washes over him he knows he made the right choice. Not because of Dean. Dean is important. Dean was always important, but because it was the choice he made. If he gets to have Dean because of his choice then it's only the cherry on top of everything else.
"Cas? Shit, I'm not good at this. Did you mean it?" Dean rumbles from the other end of the line. Castiel sits back in bed, runs a hand through his hair and licks his lips. The whole world feels different.
"Yes, I meant it," his voice is rough like sandpaper, a reminder that he shouldn't drink champagne but Dean's voice hitches on the other end of the line.
"Did something happen? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine Dean, I just realized I didn't want to do that anymore. I realized it didn't make me happy."
Wanting to do something for happiness alone, that was a scary thought. It seemed so reckless. Michael would never understand it. Eventually Castiel would have to tell Michael but not yet, not while he wanted to savor the moment with someone who would support his decision, not rip it to shreds. He'd face Michael later and he wouldn't back down when he did.
"Yeah?" Dean's voice is breathless, pleased. Castiel leans back in bed and imagines his smile. It thrills him.
"Dean, do you want to come over?"
Castiel has never, ever let anyone know where he lives. He had never crossed the line while Dean was a client but Dean wasn't a client any longer. He waits, the seconds ticking by and this would be the time for Dean to explain the infatuation Castiel has felt was entirely one-sided, that Dean has realized in their time apart that he doesn't want him, need him like Castiel has wanted him.
"Give me the address," Dean growls down the line and Castiel's cock jerks to life.
Castiel showers and brushes his teeth. He washes away the remnants of his previous life, dries himself off with a towel and leaves it slung low on his hips. Dean seems to appreciate it when he arrives at the door. He's messy, his hands dirty and his clothes stained and Castiel wonders if he came from work or if he just threw on the nearest things he had at hand. When Castiel had finally checked the time he'd realized Dean had called him nearer to mid-day than mid-morning.
Dean stands in the doorway of his apartment, eyes sweeping over Castiel and then he's in Castiel's arms, kicking the door closed behind him. Castiel's towel is lost somewhere in the living room and Dean carries him to bed. His hands leave smears of grease over Castiel's freshly dried skin and Castiel marvels at how the marks look. Dean nips and bites at his neck, leaving all the signs Castiel would never let him before and Castiel is content to lie back and let Dean worship his body. He throbs with the need to have Dean's hands on him. He doesn't know what's happened to the man he met all those months ago, the one who couldn't stand to touch Castiel or be reminded that Castiel was as much a man as he was, but he doesn't worry about it when Dean's hungry mouth is between his legs, swallowing down his cock.
Castiel cards his hands through Dean's too-short hair, whimpering and blissful. Dean has no technique, his teeth scrape along the sensitive head and Castiel holds himself back because Dean is enthusiastic but still learning. It feels heavenly though. Nothing is practiced. It's given freely and with love.
Dean wraps his hand around the base of Castiel's cock, stopping him from coming and licks at him in infuriating little strips that do nothing to stop the ache in Castiel's balls. He whines, lifting his hips a little and Dean laughs. What he does next surprises Castiel more than Dean's willingness to suck his cock. Dean nudges his thighs apart a little more and grips Castiel's hip with his free hand, angling him upwards. Castiel is exposed, his hole twitching and hungry. He almost opened himself up before Dean arrived but something stopped him and Castiel is glad of that because when Dean's tongue presses against him, tentative and warm, he realizes that this closeness would have been lost to him.
Dean's been exploring or at least researching. He slides his tongue around the rim of Castiel's hole, warm, long licks that make him pucker and ripple open and then he stiffens his tongue, pressing it inside in quick, deep jabs that are enough to mimic exactly what Castiel wants but nowhere near enough for him.
"Please," he groans but Dean doesn't let up. He keeps going until Castiel is gasping, so close to the edge that he can almost feel it. He doesn't need anything else. He grips Dean's shoulder, dragging him away. "Do it, or I'll come and I want you in me."
He's never told Dean what to do. For a moment Dean's face is clouded and Castiel remembers everything he thought about Dean and his control issues, but then Dean licks his lips, making a noise that Castiel can only think of as indecent and Dean shouldn't look so pleased.
"Bossy, aren't you?" Dean murmurs, squirming out of his clothes. His cock is so hard that it stands proud and erect, jabbing against his stomach when its finally freed and Castiel can't resist a touch. Dean hisses when he runs his fingers gently over him and bats Castiel's hand away. "I thought you wanted me inside you?"
"I do," Castiel agrees, settling back on the bed, spreading his legs again. He'd let Dean have him just like this with only spit to ease the way but Dean seems to have planned ahead because he reaches for his discarded jeans and pulls out a little packet. At first Castiel thinks it's a condom but then he realizes it's one of those little sachets of lube that can be bought from seedy bathroom dispensers. He covers his mouth with his hand, laughing and Dean grins at him.
"Got this from work," he says proudly, ripping the sachet open and coating his dick thoroughly.
They shift so Dean's settled over him and Castiel wraps his legs around him, pulling Dean flush against him. Their cocks brush and Castiel whines low in his throat.
"I got you, baby," Dean promises, reaching down between them to guide his cock inside Castiel. Castiel opens to him, accepting him in one quick, easy stroke that has Dean buried to the balls inside him. It's as if his body has been craving Dean and now that he's there it settles around him, ready only for him. Castiel knows that isn't true, he knows he's just been fucked enough that he's not as tight as he once was, that he's not as controlled but Dean isn't worried about how many men Castiel has been with. His eyes still widen as he slides into Castiel's tight heat, an expression like he's never felt so good falling across his face.
They kiss, hot and messy and Castiel can taste himself on Dean's tongue. It's strange, not something he's sure he likes so he pulls away and Dean kisses his jaw instead. For the first time in a long time Castiel can say no to things, he doesn't have to be at the mercy of someone else's wants and desires. He rocks his hips slowly, setting the pace and Dean follows him.
It doesn't take long till Castiel falls apart. This is something Dean's always been good at, hitting his sweet spot and positions changing doesn't stop that. Dean's long, slow strokes rubbing his prostate are just the edge Castiel needed and he falls apart in Dean's arms. He clenches, tighter and tighter and Dean keeps going until he's sure he's wrung everything from Castiel and then he starts to shift, pulling out of him. Castiel stops him, a hand on Dean's arm.
"I said I wanted you to come inside me," he whispers, and Dean looks surprised like he can't understand how Castiel can enjoy it when he's not hard still. One day Castiel will explain it but now he lies back, feeling his body tremble as Dean takes him. Dean whispers in his ear, tells Castiel that he's beautiful, that he missed him and when he comes he calls out Castiel's name.
It's beautiful and wonderful and more importantly it's real.
Neither of them are faking their performance.
Dean eases out, flopping next to Castiel. He pulls him into his arms and Castiel pillows his head on Dean's chest, enjoying the other man's warmth and closeness. For a little while they don't talk, they just lie in each other's arms. Castiel is drifting off to sleep when Dean shakes him awake.
"Where you gonna go, Cas? You're renting this place, right?"
Castiel nods slowly. He has some savings but the money will run out eventually. He won't be able to keep this apartment.
"I'll downsize," he says finally.
Dean shifts uncomfortably, jostling Castiel who'd like him to lie still and allow him to sleep.
"You know, you could always stay at my place. It's big enough for the two of us, got that big bed, and I make good money at my job, I could support us" Dean offers, his voice tight.
Castiel turns his head just enough so he can press a kiss to Dean's neck, wanting him to know he appreciates it. He likes Dean's house, likes the warmth of it. It's a lived in place, an old family home that Dean's never moved from and Castiel wants to slot in there and be a part of Dean's family.
"I'd like that," he agrees.
"And I thought I might introduce you to my brothers. I mean, you'll be a shock but…." Dean trails off. Castiel wonders if it will really be that much of a shock to his brothers or if they will have suspected all along. He reaches out and grabs Dean's hand. Dean sighs, relaxing down with him and tugs Castiel closer still so he's half sprawled over his chest.
"I'm sure they'll just be glad that you're happy," he says. From the times Dean's talked about his brothers that's what Castiel expects. "Maybe we won't tell them how we met," he continues and Dean laughs.
Dean strokes his fingers through Castiel's hair, kissing the top of his head softly. "I spoke to Sam that night you came, when we had the fight. I told you he's at college, right? I thought he had grants or some shit but he said they weren't enough."
Castiel's chest tightens because he knows where this story is going.
"He's selling himself," he breaths and Dean makes an unhappy noise, shifting and holding onto Castiel just a little tighter.
"He says it's just dates. Just escorting, like that matters. I told him I could take extra shifts, send him more money but he said he didn't want it. I threatened to tell dad, he hung up on me," Dean sighs. "I kept wondering what sort of guy would want to take advantage of my kid brother like that, then you were there and I was just as bad as those guys because I was taking advantage of you. Fuck, Cas, I don't even know when I started to fall for you but I knew when you got there, I knew I couldn't stand the idea of anyone else touching you anymore, of anyone else holding you. I swear, I never felt that way about any other guy, you just got into my head and I couldn't stand it. I just wanted you to stop and be with me."
There's the final piece of that puzzle. Castiel nods, pleased to finally know what had made Dean so strange that night. If Dean had just told him, Castiel would have stopped then and there, but he's learned by now that Dean doesn't like to make things easy for himself. Dean finds it easier to pick a fight or to fuck then talk about his feelings.
"I love you too," he says because that's really all he needs to say. Dean squeezes his hand and presses another kiss to his hair and that's enough for now. Soon he'll box up his old life, put it all behind him and move in with Dean. It'll be a new experience for both of them but Castiel is confident they can make it work. They both deserve a little happiness in their lives.