Full Pairing/Character List: Dean/Cas, some Balthazar/Cas, Ion/Cas, Ion/Balthazar, Inias/Samandriel, minor Sam/Kevin, Alastair/Dean, Lucifer/Sam, Michael/Lucifer, Michael/Adam, Sam/Ezekiel, with Gabriel, Frank, Victor, Elliot, and Benny.
Warnings: bottom!Cas, public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, anonymity, frottage, oral, rimming, anal, come play, underage sexuality issues, borderline wincest but that's not the intention.
A/N: This was just supposed to be a little bit of slightly-cracky smut, as warm-up before writing more Halloween in Bondage… And then it became a thing. Again :\
If it looks like an old warehouse, re-purposed to be a private strip club - that's because it is. It's out in the old industrial district, which, strangely enough, only enhances it's "privacy." You can't just stumble in, drunk and uninvited on a night out in the red district. No, the only reason you would end up there is because you've come there on purpose. And the only way you would've heard about the place at all is by word of mouth.
And if the inside of the place looks like someone vomited glitter and gold all over the industrial iron, none of the clientele seem to mind. The bar is real enough. The chairs and tables are all sturdy as fuck. And for good reason too. But if you're real lucky at the end of the night, you might get one of the beds that line one of the vast warehouse walls, like a line of giant armchairs pushed together.
'Armchair' is an accurate description. Each mattress is surrounded by a slightly elevated padding - like an arm of a chair, but bench-sized - providing a place for spectators to sit and watch what's happening on the bed, up close and personal. It's also a comfortable place to rest your elbows when you're on all fours, or hike up a leg for better balance when you're on your back - it's handy in all kinds of ways. The only other separation between the mattresses are the black curtains, thin as gauze, hanging from the posters around each bed. Only an illusion of privacy where there is none.
At the moment, the sheets are pulled open, soft lights glowing on the empty mattresses as a constant reminder of the night's much-anticipated finale. The rest of the club is shrouded in the dark lighting typical of most bars, the occasional sweep of color coming from the direction of a dance floor that no one seems to use but the entertainment. Most of it is taken up by a small stage anyway. More like a podium, really. And right in front of it, in the middle of the small floor, is a thick, shiny pole, studded into the floor and jutting up into the air.
The volume of music coming from the speakers near the podium is almost obnoxiously loud, so when it abruptly drops to near silence, everyone's attention is drawn towards the area. The sharp whine of feedback signals a microphone being turned on, and a spotlight clunks on, zooming in on the short man standing on the stage.
"Gentlemen!" the man's voice booms through the air. "Welcome to Tricky's."
The introduction is met with catcalls and applause, and the man smirks at the sound, raising his arms and gesturing for more. And when he is satisfied – if he is ever satisfied - he hushes his audience with another gesture of his hand, waiting until they are silent again before returning the microphone to his lips.
"They call me Gabriel! And not only am I the owner of this fine establishment, I am also your host for the evening!" The audience cheers. "So if you have any problems or issues… please don't bring them to me. Take them to the bar instead, okay guys? Benny will fix you right up." Gabriel winks at the heavy-set bartender, and the audience laughs.
"But first, some house rules," Gabriel mock-glares at the crowd, and the more game audience members mock-hiss and boo in disapproval. "The hotties you are about to see are here for everyone's entertainment, not just your own. So no yanking or pulling them towards you! They do their best to make their way around the whole room, and we try to make sure everyone's had a taste of someone's cock, or other things, by the end of the night," Gabriel leers, and the audience howls and hollers their approval.
"Also! No pinching, no scratching, no biting – basically, no leaving marks, gentlemen. And no kissing on the lips! No matter how they've stolen your heart," Gabriel fake-swoons, batting his eyelashes, and the audience laughs.
"For anything else, ask for permission first if it isn't offered. And feel free to pass if you're not interested either, no one has to do anything they don't want to. Remember, we're all just here to have fun and enjoy the company of some fine looking men!" Gabriel smirks, and the crowd cheers.
"Now! Where is the birthday boy?" Gabriel shields his eyes from the spotlight, peering into the crowd.
"Here!" a voice calls from the audience, and the spotlight finds a blond man waving and pointing enthusiastically at a dark-haired young man beside him.
"What's your name, gorgeous?" Gabriel asks.
The young man slumps down in his chair, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment.
"Inias!" the blond beside him supplies.
"Well, Inias, you're going to get some special attention later tonight." Gabriel waggles his eyebrows, and the birthday celebrant does his best to disappear behind the table.
"Holy crap!" Gabriel exclaims suddenly, noticing the Asian boy sitting next to them. "How are you even legal, kid?"
The young man responds with a meep-ing noise, mortified by the unexpected attention.
"Well, kid, if you were a virgin when you came in here, you might not be when you leave!" Gabriel winks. The crowd laughs and cheers.
"In the meantime!" Gabriel turns to address the audience again. "First up for the night are a couple of cowboys that have ridden more studs than John Wayne and Clint Eastwood combined – Heck, one of them's even got the bow-legs to prove it! Please give it up, for Mick Smith and Keith Wesson!"
"That's your cue, boys," Frank snaps, holding open the curtain for Sam and Dean to pass through. Dean has to suppress a groan when Kid Rock's Cowboy begins to blare out of the speakers. He's repeatedly asked Frank to give them some Bon Jovi or CCR or something, anything but Kid Rock, but the man must enjoy tormenting him.
It doesn't stop Dean from doing his job, though. And doing it well. As soon as he steps out in front of an audience, he's in his element, shaking his money-maker for all it's worth. And men love it. He knows he's pretty, and he enjoys getting the attention as much as the men out there enjoy giving it. In fact, Dean is so happy with the amount of attention he gets, he doesn't even mind sharing the spotlight with his brother.
Of course, the audience doesn't know they're related. They'd tried the brother act at first, but it turned out that for every person who thought it was kind of kinky, there was someone who thought it was too weird. It's not weird for Dean. He practically raised his brother. So he's been looking at Sam's junk since he was old enough to change his brother's diapers. But Gabe decided to play it safe and cater to the broader clientele, giving them different stage names. They still perform together though, just because they work so well together.
They show themselves off on the podium for a bit, letting the audience have a good look at them as they flex their muscles under the lights. Then they slide down the pole one after the other, taking turns grinding up against it in a suggestive manner while the other struts around the dance floor. As they shimmy further into the tables, they stop every now and then to rub up against random people in the audience, teasing them as they soak up the appreciative catcalls and whistles.
Eventually Dean finds a somewhat empty table-top to crawl onto, settling on his knees and waving his Stetson in the air as he gyrates his hips, simulating a wild bull-ride. From there he can see Sam on the other side of the room, sticking his 'gun' in someone's face. Dean can tell by the way the guy is practically drooling that Sam's probably rock-hard already, obscenely tenting his g-string right in the guy's face. Any second now Sam's going to rip it off and give the guy what he wants.
Dean smirks, rocking his hips even filthier as he rubs his hands all over himself, palming his dick until he's half-hard as well. He loves the cowboy costume. It's so easy. Most get-ups have pants that have to come off first before getting to the main event. But with this costume the tight leather chaps stay on. It's only the g-string that comes off. Their costume designer may be a real oddball, but even Dean has to admit Garth knows what he's doing. The guy could work miracles with a cock sock alone.
Dean twists around to catch Sam's attention, disguising the manoeuvre with another roll of his hips, and with a quick signal, he and Sam rip off their g-strings at the same time. The audience goes wild, whistling and cheering as Sam shakes his 9-inch cock for everyone to see, before letting the poor guy in front of him swallow it down. Dean's not short on praise either, leaning over on his elbows and giving the crowd an eyeful of what he knows is a damn near perfect ass. He shakes it a few more times for good measure, before sliding off the table to find someone to suck his dick as well.
The first couple of guys are pretty shy about it, which is normal at the beginning of the night. But Dean knows that by the end of the show, guys will be hollering at him from all directions, wanting a taste. By that time of the night the crowd will be so warmed up, some of these guys will even be game enough to give him a good ass-licking, all drunk and sloppy. But for now, cock-sucking only. And the only action his ass is going to get is a few shy spanks here and there when he bends over for it.
Pulling his dick out of guy #2's mouth, Dean shimmies his way deeper amongst the tables. All of a sudden, he starts to feel a prickle up the back of his neck, like he's being watched. Well, obviously, he's being watched – but this feels like he's really being watched, on a whole other level. He turns around, looking for the source, and right there at the birthday boy's table, is the bluest pair of eyes he's seen since… since he was a kid.
He doesn't see much else in the low lighting, most of the spotlights shining on him instead of around him. So all he gets is a vague impression of a rumpled suit – dark, unruly hair, perfect for fisting his hands in – and a strong jawline, which he finds covered in stubble when he reaches out to touch it. Running his thumb over the guy's mouth, he finds lips that are slightly dry, but full. And when Dean applies the slightest pressure they open willingly, taking in his thumb and sucking on it softly.
Dean thrusts it into the guy's mouth a few more times before pulling it out, grinning as the guy chases the digit with his tongue. But Dean is already guiding his cock towards the guy's lips, and he's barely within range before the guy is leaning forward to lick it, slurping and sucking on it eagerly. Dean moans as he grabs handfuls of that crazy hair, and those big blues flick upwards at the sound, locking onto him again.
Dean pushes deeper, losing himself in those blue depths. All of a sudden he's there again. Back in Kansas. Thirteen years old, horny, confused, and dreaming about kissing the boy next door.
"Cas!" he gasps, the name escaping his lips before he can stop it.
Blue eyes' brows scrunch together in confusion, and Dean abruptly pulls his cock out of the guy's mouth, shaken by the slip. He quickly turns away, shoving his dick into the next willing mouth for the remainder of the act.
"Cassy!" Balthazar hisses when the cowboy turns away. "You never used to suck my cock with that kind of enthusiasm!"
"Oh shut up, Balthazar," Castiel grumbles, slumping down in his chair with embarrassment.
Balthazar laughs at him good-naturedly, patting him on the thigh in affection. Luckily for Castiel that's the last he has to hear of it, as the taller cowboy then approaches their table, and Balthazar turns to cheer and whistle at the stripper in appreciation. Castiel frowns, turning in the other direction to watch the shorter, green-eyed cowboy with someone else.
He's almost certain he heard the cowboy say his name. But he doesn't know how the dancer could even know it, unless he heard someone else say it. And Castiel's pretty sure everyone around him was either too busy cheering, or hiding behind their drinks once the dancers began their routine.
Castiel is almost too afraid to hope. But the dancer reminds him so much of the boy that used to live next door to their old house.
Castiel's never forgotten that name – that boy. He cried so hard when the Winchesters moved away. And over the years the family moved around so much, they'd eventually lost touch. But Castiel never stopped thinking about his friend, or wondering what became of him.
And this cowboy, with the same cocky smirk and forest-green eyes, he's almost exactly the man Castiel imagined Dean would grow up to be. Though his hair is a little darker, his shoulders much broader and thicker than Castiel expected. The Dean Winchester he knew was a fair and slender boy. But although the differences are unexpected, they aren't entirely unappealing either, and Castiel finds his heart leaping traitorously at the thought that this man could be one and the same.
But how many times had Castiel gotten his hopes up at the sight of a confident grin or freckled skin, only to be disappointed? The dancer had been introduced by a different name anyway. And just because most strippers use fake names doesn't mean they always do. He really could just be Mick Smith.
Castiel takes a long gulp of his beer, trying to shake off his memories and enjoy the show. He's here to celebrate Inias' birthday after all, though Balthazar's choice of venue is unexpected. He's not here to rekindle long-lost loves that never were.
"What was that, Dean?" Sam hisses on the way to the dressing room.
"Huh?" Dean replies intelligently, barely noticing Michael jostle past him for his latin routine.
"You turned into a zombie all of a sudden. Everything okay?" Sam asks, frowning in concern.
"Yeah, Sammy. I just… remembered something. That's all," Dean brushes it off, peeling out of his costume.
"Must've been a pretty big something," Sam remarks.
"Huh? Yeah," he replies, still distracted. Sam gives him a pointed bitch-face at that, and Dean heaves a sigh. "I'm just going to get some fresh air, okay? Back in a minute," he says, yanking on some old jeans before heading towards the back door.
Outside the exit is the staff carpark behind the club, and before Dean even knows what he's doing he's trudging towards the Impala and climbing onto its hood. It isn't until he finds himself looking up at the stars, with the cool glass of the Impala's windshield under his back, that he realizes where he is.
This is where he last saw Cas.
They were sitting right here, on the hood of his Dad's car, staring up at the stars like they always did, when he told Cas they were leaving. And the look his friend had given him then… Cas looked as devastated as Dean felt. And if Dean had known that would be the last time he'd ever see Castiel, he would've kissed Cas right then and there.
But he was only 13 then, and Cas was still a shy and quiet 12 year old, and Dean's feelings were already too confusing and frightening as they were.
He really tried not to cry when they left.
Dean's been with a lot of guys since then, but he's never forgotten his childhood friend. Never gotten over him, either.
Dean takes a deep, bracing breath, climbing off the Impala and heading back for the club.
So much for not rekindling long-lost loves. Balthazar seems to have other ideas on the matter. As the night goes on and more amounts of alcohol are consumed, Balthazar gets more and more handsy, draping himself all over Castiel and letting his lips linger on Castiel's skin every time he leans over to make a comment.
Castiel still cares about Balthazar, but he has no desire to hop into bed with the man again. Especially not tonight. Castiel tries to shift himself away, subtly letting Balthazar know he isn't interested, but unfortunately his ex is either too drunk to take his hints, or is blatantly ignoring them.
Eventually Castiel excuses himself from the table altogether, citing the need for a bathroom as an excuse for his escape. It's not entirely a lie. He's had a few drinks himself. And while his tolerance for alcohol is usually very high, he's actually beginning to feel a little tipsy for once.
So he can't be blamed that he gets turned around entirely when he comes back out of the bathroom door.
All the hallways look the same, no matter which way he turns. And it doesn't help to follow the sound of music, as it seems to echo and bounce against the walls. Pretty soon, Castiel finds himself completely lost amongst the unfamiliar corridors.
"Victor! Elliot! You're on in five!" a gruff voice snaps from somewhere around the corner. Castiel heads towards the sound, hoping he's found the way back, or at least someone who can point him in the right direction.
Unfortunately the hallway is empty by the time he turns the corner, but Castiel sees a door at the end of the hall, slightly ajar, and hears the sounds of loud conversation and raucous laughter coming from inside. When he peers in the room he sees it's lined with mirrors and lights, costumes hanging off racks and chairs – it's the performers dressing room.
He knocks on the door, hoping to catch someone's attention, but the dancers are talking and joking quite loudly, so they don't hear it. Castiel opens the door wider, looking further inside, and closest to the door he sees the green-eyed cowboy, sitting at the edge of the group but not really paying attention.
Castiel clears his throat. He knows he shouldn't be here, but short of going out the other door onto what must be the stage, he doesn't really have a choice.
"Excuse me, Mick?" he calls out softly. The dancer doesn't hear him. "Mick? Mr. Smith?" he tries again, but still no reply.
Castiel huffs in frustration. The man seems lost in his own world. And a little sad, now that Castiel looks closer. But God, he looks so much like...
"Dean," he murmurs, just tipsy enough to chance it.
To Castiel's utter shock, the man's eyes flick up in response.
Dean is momentarily stunned. Blue-eyes is even more gorgeous than he expected, now that he can see the man in better lighting. But how does the guy know his name?
"…Dean?" the guy says again, sounding shocked.
"Um," Dean frowns, standing up. "Can I… help you?" he asks uncertainly.
"Dean, is that you?" blue-eyes asks excitedly. "It's me, Castiel! Do you remember me?"
"… Cas?" Dean exclaims in disbelief, looking closer. When he looks past the strong jawline and the stubble, he sees it – the same nose, the same lips, the same intensity in those big, blue eyes… no wonder he's been thinking about his childhood friend.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean breathes. "Cas!" he gapes in wonder. What are the freakin' odds?
"It is you!" Cas says excitedly, smiling wide. "I never thought I'd see you again, and here you are!"
"Um, yeah…" Dean laughs awkwardly, suddenly remembering exactly where they are. He becomes acutely aware of how he practically shoved his cock down his old friend's throat, not even an hour ago. Digging his hands into his pockets he hunches over, feeling a little too exposed, wearing nothing but an old pair of ripped jeans.
"You always did love an audience," Cas says, sounding almost proud of him, like Dean's hit the big-time or something. "Remember how you wanted to be a rockstar when we were kids?"
Dean can't help but bark a laugh at that, remembering how he used to stand on his bed, singing Bon Jovi at the top of his lungs while Cas watched him from the floor, pretending to be an admiring groupie.
"Well, I'm not playing to stadium-sized crowds, but it's still like being a rockstar in a way," he shrugs, grinning. "No one's ever been a better groupie than you though," he adds, before he can think to stop himself.
Castiel immediately begins to flush, no doubt remembering the incident from earlier. Dean wonders if it's possible to stick his foot any further in his mouth.
"It's just an easy way to help Sam with his school fees," Dean explains, nodding over his shoulder at his brother in an attempt to change the subject. Luckily, it works.
"Is that Sam?" Castiel gasps, wide-eyed. "But he's so… big!" he says, obviously remembering the tiny slip of a boy Sam used to be.
Dean laughs. "I know, right? No idea how that happened."
"What is he studying?" Castiel asks.
"Law," Dean says proudly. "He's smart as a whip."
"He always was," Castiel smiles.
"What about you?" Dean asks. "Did you end up becoming a doctor?"
"Yes, I did," Castiel replies. "You remembered," he adds softly.
"F'course I remembered," Dean replies. How could he forget? Every time he did something stupid, Cas was there to patch him up. And he's never forgotten the careful way Cas used to touch him, the feel of Cas' fingertips brushing against his skin, so light and cautious. Looking back on it, maybe sometimes he was even a little bit reckless on purpose, just so Cas would take care of him.
"You know, I'm a doctor too. On Thursdays," he jokes, trying to shake off the memories.
Castiel laughs at that, and Dean sucks in a surprised breath at the sound. Castiel's laugh is so deep and throaty now, nothing like the high-pitched peals of their childhood. The way Castiel's voice sounds now makes Dean want to plant his lips on Cas' throat and suck on it.
Jesus. Dean thought he had it bad before, but this grown-up Cas is an entirely new story. Cas is a man now. Standing right in front of him. Real and solid, and not just some memory or poorly constructed fantasy.
Suddenly a hand claps down on Dean's shoulder, interrupting his thoughts. "Dean, buddy, we need to get through," a stern voice says, and when Dean turns he sees Victor and Elliot looming beside them in their policeman gear.
"Yeah, sorry guys," Dean snaps out of it, stepping away from Cas and giving them space to get out the door.
"I'm sorry, I'm in the way," Castiel frowns, "I just got a little turned around coming out of the bathroom and-"
"It's cool, Cas, really, don't mind them," Dean reaches out. "They're supposed to have this whole good cop - bad cop routine, but no one can work out which one of them is supposed to be the good cop," he rambles, not wanting Cas to leave yet. Castiel laughs at that, and again Dean feels himself turning a little stupid at the sound. The sight. Everything.
"I really should get back, though," Cas sighs. "It's my friend's birthday."
"Oh, you're with the birthday party? Birthday boy see anything he likes?" Dean asks, purely being professional. It's not that he's trying to stretch out the conversation or anything.
"Um, yes, actually. He seemed quite interested in the… Weiner Hut boy?"
"Alfie?" Dean asks, pointing at Samandriel.
"Yes, that's him," Castiel nods.
"Your friend's got a thing for twinks, huh?" Dean smirks.
"I suppose so," Castiel shrugs, grinning.
"I'll see what I can do," Dean grins back.
"Excuse me," Ion interrupts them, entering the dressing room and leering at Cas. The guy's stark naked after his naughty bureaucrat routine, but at least he's carrying his costume-suit in front of his private parts. Cas is already blushing hard enough as it is.
"Uh, let me help you find your way out," Dean says, uncomfortable with the way Ion is eyeing Cas up and down.
"Yes. Thank you," Cas replies stiffly, letting himself be guided out of the room.
"No problem," he replies, closing the door behind him as quickly as possible. Stupid Ion and his stupid creepy staring.
Not that Dean's much better. As he walks Cas back to the main part of the club, he tries to steal every glance he can out of the corner of his eye, but it's harder now that they aren't talking to each other directly.
And then Cas says, "It really is good to see you again, Dean." And Dean knows that's it. Reunion's over.
"You too, Cas," he replies quietly. All too soon they're back at the main room, and Cas is returning to his table. Dean watches him go, feeling strangely like his thirteen year old self after breaking the news that they were moving away, watching Cas run from him in tears.
He's still watching, when the blond next to Cas leans over, hooking an arm around Cas' shoulder and slobbering into his neck.
Of course Cas would be taken. He's gorgeous. He's smart. He's a doctor. Way too good for a dumb stripper like Dean, even if Cas was single.
Dean turns around, heading back to the dressing room.
"Balthazar, please," Castiel says, not unkindly, as he pushes his ex away. He's never been comfortable with public displays of affection, even when they were together. And it's all that more unbearable now, when he's still reeling from the shock of finding Dean again.
Beautiful, brave, confident, Dean. He's everything Castiel imagined he would grow up to be. Even the part where Castiel has found him performing in a live sex show isn't surprising. Dean was always the extravert, always flourishing in the attention of others while Castiel was always painfully shy and introverted. Dean has always been beautiful to look at, while Castiel always felt awkward and unsure in his own skin. Dean was always strong and loyal – even if he wasn't stripping to help his brother through school, he belongs on that stage anyway, where he can be worshiped and adored…
Oh God. He sucked Dean's cock. In front of everyone.
Dean was kind enough not to mention it, but… how embarrassing. Dean must think he's become some kind of trashy man-whore.
But then again, Dean has his cock sucked by a several different men, every night. And Castiel hasn't had many lovers at all. What if Dean was bored with what Castiel was doing? The thought makes Castiel want to run back to the dressing room, drag Dean off to the first dark corner he can find, and give Dean a blow job to remember.
And then what? Even if he had the guts to do something like that – which he doesn't – Is he supposed to just walk out at the end of the night? Forget he ever found Dean again? Castiel doesn't know if he can do that. Blow job or not.
Perhaps he'll try to find Dean again at the end of the show, congratulate him on his performance or something like that, like they do in the theatre. Then he could give Dean his number… and just sit around like the sad loser he is, waiting for Dean to call him. Because Castiel knows that's exactly what he'd do. No one else is going to be enough for him anymore.
Maybe no one else ever could've.
He'll work something out. Now that Dean's come back into his life, Castiel's not going to lose him again.
"Gentlemen! I'm sure you've enjoyed our show this evening… Some of you more than others, but hey, that's what the complimentary towels are for," Gabriel winks. Laughter and catcalls come from the room.
"But now, the moment you've been waiting for... The grand finale… Give it up, literally, for the dancers of Tricky's!"
"Heads up, boys! You've got work to do!" Frank snaps, pulling the curtain open. Dean follows the rest of the guys out, clad in their g-strings only, and they fan out amongst the audience to the tune of Run DMC's It's Tricky, just like they do every night.
Except this isn't like every night. Because Cas is out there, maybe watching his every move.
Yeah right. If Cas' slobbering boyfriend isn't in the way, that is.
Fuck it. He's got to get his head in the game, just treat this like any other night on the job.
Dean sees a couple of regulars nearby. Gabriel encourages them to pay attention to these guys first before picking out randoms from the crowd. It doesn't take much for these guys to come back for more, so Gabe likes to keep them happy. Dean sees Azazel eyeing him from a dark corner, but before Dean can make his way over, Alastair grabs him and pulls him down into his lap.
Dean rolls his eyes and sighs, grinding down against Al's crotch. The man knows he's not supposed to grab. Dean's just glad they don't let the customers do the fucking at the end of the night. From the way Al pinches and twists at his nipples, Dean can tell he's the kind of guy that would be rough.
Not that Dean minds it rough, but that's usually with people he likes. Alastair creeps him the fuck out.
Looking around the room, Dean sees Sam in a similar predicament, with his cock down Luc's throat. Dean knows for a fact that Luc creeps Sam out as well, but apparently the guy has a wicked tongue. It won't be long before Sam turns around and puts it to good use.
Nope, no luck. Michael gets to Luc first, shoving Sam out of the way and sticking his own cock in Luc's mouth. Dean snorts. Mike and Luc have this weird thing with each other that no one can work out. No one wants to either. It's best to just stay out of their way when they get going.
Sam recovers quickly, swinging his hips as he makes his way over the birthday table. He grabs Samandriel on the way and they both head straight for birthday boy, just like Dean asked them to. The guy tries to slide down in his chair, hiding from them, but Sam grabs him from behind, pulling him up and holding him still as Samandriel climbs into his lap. It doesn't take long for the birthday boy to start looking happy.
Dean tries hard not to look at the rest of the table. He really does. But it's hard to miss Ion's hulking form as he makes his way directly to Castiel.
Dean is up out of Alastair's lap like a shot, not even bothering to shimmy as he stomps over to the table. A light streaks across Castiel's face as Ion closes in on him, and when Dean sees the horrified expression on Cas' face he surges forward, grabbing Ion's arm.
"Back off, man. I got this one," Dean grits out through clenched teeth, squeezing his grip on Ion's arm to make his message clear.
"But the boss wants the birthday table covered," Ion smirks, not backing down.
"Birthday boy's over there," Dean nods his head in the young man's direction. Ion makes a show of looking over at where the two Sam's are draped all over him, before turning back to Dean.
"He's already taken care of," Ion replies, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.
"Keith!" Dean snaps at his brother. "Virgin on your six," he says, nodding at the Asian kid at the table. Sam whirls around, eyes lighting up when he sees the kid.
"Well, look at you," Sam drawls, heading over. "I would love to bounce you on my… lap." Sam leers, and the kid makes a terrified noise. Dean smirks. His brother loves de-virginizing cute little twinks on his monster cock.
Ion glowers. "Okay, I get the picture," he relents, heading over to the birthday boy.
Unfortunately, it's pretty clear from the way the guy's begun to tongue-fuck Samandriel's ass that there isn't much left for Ion to do. For a second Dean thinks he's going to have to fight Ion off again… but then Ion's eyes land on the blond with Castiel. The blond is very openly leering at them, even though he has an arm draped around Castiel's shoulders, and Ion smirks, reaching out for him.
Dean groans inwardly. Ion's really trying to cause trouble now.
But to Dean's surprise, the blond goes willingly.
"Well, I don't usually bottom, but I wouldn't mind doing it for a strapping young man like yourself," the man slurs happily. Ion looks surprised for a moment, but then he just shrugs, leading the man towards the stage where Michael is already fucking some blond kid.
Dean gawps a little as they go, also surprised by the man's reaction. He whirls back to check on Castiel, and instead of being angry, Cas looks relieved.
"Are you… okay?" Dean asks uncertainly. It's not unusual for the couples that come to the club to be flexible - some couples even get up on stage together to fuck at the end of the night - but Dean knows Castiel wouldn't be okay with sharing someone he loves so easily. Did he read the situation wrong?
"Yes, I'm alright now," Cas replies, perfectly fine with the situation. More than fine, even. "Thank you, Dean," Cas murmurs, smiling up at him like Dean's his hero or something. Just like he used to when they were kids.
"Don't thank me yet, Cas," Dean growls, grabbing Cas by the hand and pulling him out of his chair.
"Dean? Dean what are you doing?" Cas asks nervously as Dean drags him towards one of the beds, though it's pretty clear what his intentions are.
Cas is never going to want to be with him, boyfriend or no – not now that he knows what Dean is. And Dean's been wanting this since he was a kid. He might as well take what he can get, before he loses it again.
He pushes Cas down onto the mattress in front of him, climbing onto the bed and yanking the curtains closed behind him. The curtains are only made of a sheer, see-through material, but Dean will use any illusion of privacy he can. He remembers how shy Castiel was, might still be, but if this is his only chance to be with Cas, Dean will shield him with his own body if he has to. Thankfully, there are some complimentary towels on the bed as well, so Dean grabs one to cover them up.
"Dean?" Castiel gasps in confusion, looking up at him with shock on his face. God, Dean really wants to kiss him right now, just once, right on his parted and panting lips. It would be so much easier for Dean to put everything into a kiss instead of trying to explain himself with words. But it's against the rules to share body-fluids with the clients. The best Dean can do is crawl over Castiel's body, and bury his lips in Cas' neck, kissing the soft skin there.
"Dean!" Castiel gasps again, but he still doesn't push Dean away. In fact, he arches his neck even further, granting Dean access to more of his skin.
Dean groans, sucking and laving at every inch he can get, urgently pulling at Castiel's clothes. When Castiel's shirt finally falls open, Dean begins a sloppy trail of kisses down the pale skin of Castiel's chest, revelling in the way Cas' stomach quivers with shaky breaths, and sucking at the sharp, beautiful hipbones he finds.
Castiel's eyes clench shut, fingers threading through Dean's hair as he makes his way downwards. When Dean reaches the waistband of Castiel's pants, he is surprised to find Cas is already hard, tenting the material at his crotch. And here Dean thought it would take more work to get Cas to relax.
Then again, it didn't take much to get Cas to suck his cock in front of a whole room of people either. Maybe Cas has lost some of his shyness over the years after all. Which is convenient for Dean, because he really wants Cas naked. He wants to see everything, and have everything, for the short time he has it. Not some half-clothed fuck some of the more reserved guys prefer.
Castiel's dick looks painfully hard when Dean pulls his pants off, and Dean's mouth waters at way it bobs free, slapping back against Castiel's stomach. Because of the safety regulations he can't put his lips on Castiel's cock either, no matter how much he wants to. But nothing can stop him from touching it, grabbing it in his hand and feeling its blood-thick warmth in his fist. Castiel arches his back with a strangled cry at the touch, and Dean moans at the sight, barely able to believe that this gorgeous creature writhing beneath him is his Cas.
"I need you, Cas," the words escape his lips, almost like a whimper.
"Yes, yes!" Cas whispers, clawing at his back.
Dean nearly sobs into Cas' neck at the response. He rips his lips away from Castiel's skin with an impatient snarl, grabbing the complimentary lube and condoms by the wall. He has a grateful moment, that he's done this a million times already, otherwise he might not be able to do it at all with the way his hands are shaking. But in mere seconds, he manages to get his fingers lubed up, pressing them gently between Cas' legs.
Castiel's eyes fly open at the touch of the cool liquid, and as if suddenly remembering where he is, his eyes begin to dart around in panic. Luckily Dean's done such a good job of shielding Cas with his own body, that any likely spectators have moved on to easier action. But it still doesn't change the fact that there are people in the beds either side of them, already fucking by the sounds of it.
"Hey," Dean croons soothingly, "Just look at me, Cas, okay? Keep your eyes on me."
Castiel nods, but still gnaws at his lip in a nervous habit Dean remembers their childhood.
"C'mon, Cas, just look at me," Dean murmurs. "Just… count my freckles," he says, remembering what Castiel used to say whenever Dean caught him staring.
"What are you doing, Cas?" Dean would ask, always breathless from the intensity of Cas' eyes on him.
And Castiel would reply, "Counting your freckles."
"I already am," Cas murmurs quietly, and a warmth surges in Dean's chest. He's had a lot of people's eyes on him over the years, but it never made him feel the way he did with Cas' eyes on him.
He presses his fingers against Castiel's entrance again, and this time Castiel nods, spreading his legs wider to let him in. Dean pushes in slow, watching carefully for any more signs of distress, but Cas only sighs, eyes roaming over him like he really is mapping Dean's face. And then Cas reaches up, fingertips following the path of his eyes, caressing Dean's features like he's discovering them all over again.
"Dean," Castiel whispers, and the way he says it, Dean can't tell if it's a statement or a request. Either way, Dean is nodding, answering. He pulls his fingers back out of Castiel's heat, shoving his g-string off with one hand as he reaches for a condom with the other. He only needs one hand and his teeth to have it open and rolled on in practiced seconds again, a few more moments to have himself lubed up and more than ready to go. But it takes all the willpower he has not to just shove inside Castiel the way he cock aches to.
"Cas?" is all he can manage to say, giving Castiel one last chance to change his mind, even though it kills him.
Castiel nods, hooking his legs around Dean's back and already urging him deeper. Dean groans as he breaches Cas' entrance, trying to hold himself back and go slow, but Castiel opens himself up completely, taking him in all the way.
"Aw, fuck, Cas!" he gasps out, the curse almost a cry on his lips. Sliding into someone's body hasn't come with this feeling of completeness, and relief since… he can't remember when. Castiel's warmth is different to the body-heat of the countless numbers of men he's screwed over countless numbers of shows. Their heat was always separate, leaving Dean cold, whereas Castiel's seeps deep into Dean's bones, warming him and enveloping him in a cocoon he never wants to leave.
He can barely look away. He is rediscovering Castiel as well, eating up every gasp and sigh and hitch of his breath, trying to memorize every sound, and how Castiel's face changes with every one. Castiel's face, all grown up with the strong edges of manhood, lined with shadows of years gone by, and yet still unchanged enough for Dean to feel himself drowning in memories. So many stolen glances when his friend wasn't looking, touches that lasted too long and yet not long enough at the same time, so much confusion and fear and need…
"You were the first boy I ever wanted," Dean whispers as he gently thrusts his hips. "So many things I wanted to do with you, to you. For years after, Cas. Still." he admits quietly. "Fuck, I never thought you'd grow up to be even more gorgeous," Dean barks an embarrassed laugh, unable to stop his embarrassing mouth from confessing embarrassing things.
There's only one thing to be done. And he doesn't want to let Cas go again without doing it.
"Can I kiss you?"
Castiel is stunned speechless, overwhelmed with sensation and spinning from Dean's confession. He doesn't know what to think or feel or believe, and Dean is still looking at his lips, waiting for an answer.
"Please, Cas? I just want to kiss you," Dean says, licking his lips, and God, all Castiel knows is that's exactly what he wants right now as well.
He nods, still unable to find his voice, but unable to take his eyes away from Dean's full, pink mouth - lips still so plump and pretty after all these years. He wants Dean to ravage his mouth, claim it thoroughly with a brutal and bruising kiss. But instead, Dean leans forward so carefully, even pulling back with a nervous hitch of breath when he gets too close, as if afraid. But then Castiel sees Dean steel his resolve, and lean close again, pressing their lips together so softly, and so sweetly, Castiel nearly wants to cry.
With every kiss Dean's words start to sink in, and before he knows it he's whispering his own confessions in return, soft against Dean's lips.
"I was so in love with you, Dean," he says. "I mean, I didn't really know what that meant at the time, but all I knew was that I loved you. I would've done anything for you," he tells him. "I still would," he admits, even more quietly.
For a moment Dean just stares at him, unmoving, searching his face, and then Dean groans, pressing their lips together again as he resumes his thrusting, deeper and more urgent than before.
"Oh, yes!" Castiel gasps, breath ripped away from him when Dean hits that spot, deep inside. "Right there, Dean!" he whimpers amidst the tender, butterfly presses of Dean's lips.
Castiel soon finds himself panting like a race-horse, desperate for more. For all the gentleness in Dean's kisses, it is not nearly enough. Not now, after all these years. He grabs the back of Dean's head, pulling Dean even closer and delving his tongue into Dean's mouth, licking and exploring every part he never thought he'd get a chance to taste. And when he comes away he is panting for another reason, gasping for breath that he wish he didn't need, before pressing their lips together again.
"God, Cas, your mouth," Dean gasps when they have to part again. "You kiss so fucking good," he moans.
"Dean, I'm not-" Castiel gasps, "I don't usually-" he tries again, "Dean, I need you to know I'm not usually like this," he finally gets out. "The only reason I even let you put yourself in my mouth before is because… you reminded me of you."
"Huh?" Dean replies, his beautiful features scrunching up in confusion.
"All I saw was some dancer who reminded me of you. I didn't know it was really you, but the memory alone was enough to make me want to put my lips all over you."
"…Yeah?" Dean grins a little, and Castiel nods. "Then put your lips on me, Cas," Dean replies. "Mark me, anywhere you want."
"But Dean, the rules-"
"Don't mean shit, Cas. Not for you," Dean interrupts. "Mark me. Please," he says again, and Castiel gets the impression it's not just for his benefit. Dean wants to be marked.
Castiel buries his lips into Dean's neck with a moan, sucking on the pulse point there, high on Dean's neck. Everyone will see the mark he leaves there, whether Dean is clothed or not, and the way Dean groans at that tells Castiel that Dean likes that idea.
He leaves marks everywhere he can. On Dean's neck, Dean's collarbone, Dean's chest, right over his heart. Even Dean's shoulder. And all the while Dean whispers encouragements, until eventually Dean runs out of words and can only whisper his name, over and over again, with the kind of reverence Castiel never knew he was capable of.
"Unh God, Cas, you're gonna make me come," Dean finally groans. "Are you close?"
"Touch me," Castiel whispers, mouth pressed against the rim of Dean's ear as he holds on. Dean groans again before reaching down in between their bodies, grasping Castiel's erection in hand.
Castiel's whole body shudders in response as he thrusts up into Dean's grip. The time for gentleness is through. He's been thinking about this since the first time he ever had an erection and he does not want to wait any longer.
"Dean! Dean, please!" he begs, and Dean gets the message, fist flying furiously over his length.
"C'mon Cas, come with me, c'mon," Dean whispers against his ear. Then Dean pulls back to look down at him, and when their eyes connect again Castiel falls over the edge, coming loud and long and more powerfully than he ever has before, his entire body throbbing and clenching with the strength of it.
And Dean never looks away, eyes locked on his just as his are locked on Dean's, and Dean watches everything, waiting for him to finish before letting himself go as well, quiet and hard.
Afterwards, they can't stop staring at each other. As they catch their breath, it's almost like seeing each other for the first time, again.
This is it. This is the piece inside Castiel that's been missing all these years, finally locked into place. The gnawing, yearning place inside him, finally filled. Completion. Relief. Dean.
As Castiel's senses slowly come back to him, he notices a sudden change around them – the steady pulsing of electronic music abruptly cutting off and replaced with something familiar. It's an old rock ballad, that Castiel remembers hearing often in the Winchester house, and he smiles at the nostalgia that comes with the recollection.
It seems to have the opposite effect on Dean though, as he suddenly frowns, twisting around to look behind him. When Castiel follows Dean's gaze he sees Sam standing at the end of the stage, wrapped in a towel, both he and the owner of the club grinning at them. Dean growls, giving them the finger.
Castiel frowns in confusion, feeling like he's missing out on the joke, until he catches some of the song lyrics. Particularly the line about 'golden dreams of my yesterdays.' Then the chorus begins and Castiel remembers the title of the song - Feel Like Makin' Love.
It's then when Castiel really starts to remember where they are. And he realizes he's just shared this intensely personal and meaningful moment in front of a room full of people. He feels himself flushing again, in the not nice way, and starts to squirm under Dean, reaching out for one of the complimentary towels to cover more of himself.
Dean sees what he's trying to do, and reaches out to grab it for him. This time when their eyes meet, Dean's expression is both apologetic and rueful, and his mouth twists into an unhappy frown as he carefully pulls himself out. Dean immediately covers him with the towel, his expression becoming more and more distant as he backs away.
"Dean?" Castiel murmurs, confused at the abrupt change in Dean's demeanor. Dean dips his head, and suddenly Castiel feels Dean's lips sucking at his come-covered skin, once, twice… several, lingering, open-mouthed kisses pressed to his stomach as Dean crawls backwards over his body. When Dean raises his head again, his come is all over Dean's mouth, and he has to hold back a groan as he watches Dean lick it off his lips and take it into his mouth.
There's only a little spot of it left by the time Dean's done, and Castiel instinctively reaches out to swipe at it, smearing it onto Dean's lower lip where it can be reached. Dean licks it off his fingers, and then very quickly reaches up to cup his hand, holding it still and pressing a feather-light kiss to his fingertips. And then Dean is pulling away altogether, sliding out through the curtains with no more than a hoarsely whispered, "Bye, Cas."
"Dean?" he calls out after Dean in confusion, shell-shocked by the abrupt departure. But before Castiel can even think to go after him, Balthazar appears by the bed, loosely-dressed and wearing Ion's g-string on his head.
"Was it good for you?" Balthazar slurs happily.
By the time Castiel has wrapped himself in the towel and crawled off the bed, Dean is nowhere to be seen.
Dean's lucky he has such an understanding boss. The no-kissing rule is bent more often than Gabe likes to let on. In fact, Dean's sure he's not the only one who locked lips with someone tonight, judging from the way Samandriel was all dreamy-eyed in the dressing room after the show. And it couldn't be helped when someone came into work bearing the marks of a personal night-off. Nothing that a little stage make-up couldn't fix up.
But swallowing someone else's come is a huge no-no. The rules are there to protect the performers as much as the customers, and while some of them could be bent at the performer's discretion, come-play was a bigger risk than most.
He'd just wanted to have as much of Castiel as he could. To taste, and see, and feel. To take away with him, and remember.
At least Sam explained the situation to Gabe as it was happening. And not only had Gabe let him get away with it, but he'd been understanding enough to leave them alone… until they were done. And then the teasing began. A more appropriate song couldn't have been found.
Dean had still worried that the teasing might be a way to soften the coming blow, but maybe Gabe's mellowed out a little since Raphael left to join Crowley's drag show. Even though Dean had blatantly broken the rules, and brought his personal life into the job, Gabe still didn't fire him.
But even if he had, it would've been worth it.
Dean takes a deep breath as he steps out the backdoor to the parking lot again. Thankfully Sam had sensed he wasn't in the mood for company, and didn't ask Dean for a ride home. Or maybe his brother just had other plans. Either way, Sam can take care of himself for one night.
Dean just wants to be alone with his thoughts right now. He just wants to be able to replay the night in his head, while it's still fresh, and enjoy it before the high wears off. As it is, he's already starting to feel guilty about it. It was pretty selfish of him to do that to Cas, in front of everybody, when he was well aware of how shy Cas used to be. And no matter what Cas may have said in the throes of passion, they aren't kids anymore. Things are different now. They're different now.
Well, they'd always been too different, even when they were kids. Maybe that's why, deep down, Dean always knew Cas was too good for him. He always knew he would hold Cas back somehow, sooner or later. And maybe that's why he didn't try as hard as he could've to keep in touch.
Still, it's taking a lot of self-control to not just run back into the club, and beg Cas to come home with him. Maybe that's why he's trying to make an exit, as quickly as possible.
"Hello, Dean," Castiel's voice comes out of nowhere, and Dean stops dead in his tracks. He'd been so caught up in his own head, he didn't even notice Cas leaning against the hood of the Impala as he approached.
"Cas? What are you doing here?" he asks, breathless from the shock.
"I tried to find you, but I got lost again and ended up outside," Cas explains. "Then I saw the Impala, and…" Cas bites his lip, trailing off.
Dean's heart begins thudding in his ears. He doesn't know what to say. He knows what he wants to do, but he was trying to escape that temptation.
"I just couldn't leave after you said all those things," Cas blurts out. "Did you mean any of it? Or was it just… part of the show?" he asks, accusing him with those big, sad eyes of his. Those eyes Dean could never resist.
"I meant it," he replies quietly, knowing he shouldn't. But it feels even worse to let Cas think it was just a way to get him turned on.
"Everything all right here, Dean?" a third party interrupts, and Dean sees Benny approaching over Castiel's shoulder. He discreetly raises a hand to let Benny know everything's okay.
"I never stopped loving you!" Cas bursts suddenly, completely ignoring their audience.
"Okaaay," Benny says quietly, eyebrows flying up into his hairline and backing away altogether.
"You don't mean that, Cas," Dean says, even as something in his chest swells, wanting it to be true.
"I just let you fuck me in front of a whole room of strangers, Dean. Of course I mean it," Cas replies earnestly, but still managing that slight snippiness to his tone, that used to put Dean back in his place, every damn time. And God he's missed that.
Aw hell, there's only so much a guy can take.
Dean lunges forward, gripping Castiel in a hug so tight, he hears all of Cas' breath rush out of him with a surprised 'oof!' before he feels arms wind around him in return.
"I missed you so much, Cas," he says, not letting go. Not ever again.
"I know, Dean. Me too," Cas murmurs in reply. But when Cas leans in to kiss him, he pulls away, more than a little overwhelmed, and suddenly shy.
"Um, can we go someplace a little more private?" he asks. "I feel like… I feel like we have a lot to catch up on," he explains.
"Of course, Dean. Anything you want," Castiel replies, chuckling a little and shaking his head in amusement.
"What's funny?" Dean asks, perplexed by the reaction.
"For a moment there, I thought you were going to say that you feel like making love," Cas grins.
"Well," Dean grins back, "That too."
So I thought about writing Ezekiel in at the last minute, but… wait…
Gabriel: Okay guys, I decided to get a little help with Security for the club. This is Zeke, he has a military background… Zeke?
Ezekiel: *sees Sam*
Sam: *sees Ezekiel*
diggler: BAM. Sezekiel.
More from this verse can be found at my livejournal or at my tumblr with the tag "welcome to tricky's"