Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The bedroom he’d very quickly become familiar with this past weekend would be shrouded in ambient lighting. Warm and ethereal, the glow of the bedside lamps would steadily serve them sensual and hot. The glow would be dark enough to set the mood, but illuminated enough to see the marvelous view before him. The aromas all around this large but comforting room would be a blend of his essences and Dean’s, a collection of fragrances that scream out arousal and need.

Funny, how he’s never noticed things such as this in the past, the seemingly small details that pack a surprising punch once you’ve become acquainted. The kind of things he can’t help but to think about, now that he knows how electrifying they are.

He can definitely appreciate what he sees. Sporadically freckled skin that would yield to the pressure he puts on it with his fingers. Those thick thighs that would make way for him, opening up in slow, but enthusiastic invitation. His hands would grab a hold of them and grip, feeling the silky softness of fine hair and the natural heat of supple flesh. His digits would spread out and press harder, a grip forming right outside of his palms. Not too tightly, but enough to let his lover know that he is the one calling the shots, this time.

Dean would probably blow a quick breath of warm air out of his mouth as he watches Castiel lick and suck on him; his wet tongue sliding around and around the most sensitive part at the tip of his dick. The underside. The part of the male body that is known as ‘the frenulum’. He’s done a bit of research since their time together and now knows this funny little name, among a handful of others (along with some very interesting things he plans on personally finding the truth in). This one tidbit is his favorite. That little slip of skin that makes up the seam between head and shaft. The remnant of the foreskin they’re born with, hidden underneath, for all its sensitivity. (Trust him, a little experimentation on his part has proven its sensitivity to be real and potent). The delicate line of it would be felt against Cas’ tongue, thin and sensitive to the touch. And he’d put his focus there. He’d see the reactions that his attention would reward him with, and he knows, that he’d stay there, right there, until Dean is begging for mercy.

He’s sure that it’d taste just as good as the rest of him, too.

“That’s perfect, just like that.” A crooning praise would fall like a slip of silk in that smoky, melodic voice of his.

Dean would let his hands roam into Castiel’s wild hair, to solidify the surety of these words. To give his praise physically, as well as verbally. Fingertips would scrape across his scalp, gentle but insistent. Castiel likes the idea of them curling in to get a grip of his tresses. He’s never once thought that he could enjoy something that would no doubt cause a bit of pain, but that sensation combined with the added weight of Dean’s hand and firm fingers would have him wondering if he’s been much too prudish in the past.

Then again, things in his past have never been quite as inspiring as this.

They wouldn’t take a hold, these hands of Dean’s. They’d make subtle suggestions and guide him, as Castiel takes him all the way down to the point of gagging. That thick, long cock of his that never seems to end; how Cas would enjoy trying to take it all in. He’d give all his breath, all his time, just to try.

His throat contracts and he swallows down all the saliva that has pooled in his mouth as he imagines it, his fingers gripping at his own thighs because he’s so far gone on the fantasy that plays along in his head. His big, curious eyes see nothing before him, only the images that run through his subconscious as time passes him by.

Thank God his office door is closed and he’s all alone.

…

Dean would moan, quietly at first, just loud enough for Cas to be encouraged to do whatever coaxed that sound out again. And he’d get louder and louder as Cas sucked longer and harder. He would wriggle his hips a little, wanting to fuck himself into Cas’ throat, but, of course, Dean would be a gentleman about it. Castiel, on the other hand, would let it happen .

Cas would allow Dean to choke him to death, if it meant Dean got to have his pleasure.

But this is only true because he knows that Dean would never hurt him. Nor would he be so greedy. Dean would only fight the urge to take, because this moment would be Cas’ and he would understand just how much it means to the accountant to have control of this. To be the one giving pleasure and taking charge.

He’d curse; the colorful language they both seem to favor when they’re like this only gaining more emphasis by the precious need that grows and grows, as Castiel works and works at him

“Cas,” he’d moan as his stomach muscles clench, as his thighs tighten and loosen with every wave of arousal passing through him, “Fuck, Fuck, Cas.” And he’d lose his breath. He would close his eyes and let sensation take him away for a long moment.

Castiel knows this would animate him, hearing his name spill from those gorgeous pink lips like a prayer. The sound of those three familiar letters encased in thick desire and delivered to him like an express package.

He’d only grab a tighter hold, only spend a moment admiring the way it would make Dean squirm. Then and only then, would he stop the tease and really get to work.

Yes. That’s absolutely how things would go.
…

“You’re doing it, again.” The sudden, interrupting voice says to him in a low, condescending tone.

He startles inwardly, only just, but barely reacts physically. Truly, Castiel can’t see past what he was just thinking of. Whatever is happening in real time is still just beyond his reach, but that voice absolutely mends that for him. The seriousness of it, familiar and comforting as it can sometimes be, is saturated in equal parts intrigue and boredom, now. It grounds him down in place. Grounds him down to the here and now.

Also…It’s not the first time today that he’s hearing it, so there’s that.

Meg Masters stands in his viewpoint, nearer to the office door than to the front of his pristine glass desk, with her arms crossed underneath her chest. She’s in her standard pants and blazer combo. Black on black, naturally, because it’s the closest she can get to her comfort of jeans, tee and leather. Today’s outfit is combined with a killer pair of studded black Louboutin heels and a spiky diamond bracelet to match. Her blood red lipstick is flawless and without shine, giving her face a splash of the color that most suits her.

Meg bares the look of the quintessential business CEO in a power suit, though she’s actually the supervisor that hardly acknowledges her title.

Unless one pisses her off, of course. At that point, she wields her authority like a weapon.

Castiel blankly stares at her for a long moment, taking her in for what has to be the fourth time today and only sighing to himself, as he’s done every other time she’s surprised him with her presence. He hardly registers her actually standing there for longer than a few moments, as hard as he’s trying to keep a hold of that last fantasy.

It had been a juicy one. Like all the others his brain has been torturing him with for the past three days. Cas has been thinking about all the things he never got to do, all the things he wishes he had had the courage to ask for when the man of his very sexy (and very recent) dreams had been standing before him.

It’s been three whole days since that opportunity has passed him by and he is absolutely, positively, losing his mind.

It’s been a slow burn that reaches crescendo after crescendo. Highs and lows and moments of rest that should probably last longer than they do. It’s been quite exciting, he cannot deny that. The unfortunate part, is that he’s yet been able to get a firm grasp on this mental breakdown. Not enough to gain any control back, in any case.

Things have only gotten progressively worse since Dean texted him this morning.

What a lovely surprise it had been to find his message today. Cas had nearly jumped for joy, right here in his office, which would have been a valid reaction after waiting 70 odd hours, just guessing at when he would hear from Dean. Castiel can admit to himself that he’d been a bit anxious about when that time might come, if at all, and to finally see a new message from a number he didn’t recognize had been akin to getting a not so anonymous valentine in his mailbox; because it had been Dean, of course, who else could it have been?

Basking in the memory of this morning’s event has him pretty sluggish to return to reality, even knowing that he’s (once more) been interrupted. Castiel thinks that it is really unfair that he is having his musings be disrupted, yet again, today. As if the job at hand is doing its utmost to inconvenience him and his personal time. As if he weren’t at work at all, in fact. As if he weren’t obligated to get said work done.

He wishes he could just blow off work. Take some time to himself and explore this new aspect of himself.

Man, he never thought he’d ever hear himself say something like that, or even think it, but he has practically grown insolent, at this point.

Since this past weekend, Castiel has been more scatterbrained than usual. He has fallen victim to fresh and freaky fantasies, long and vivid dreams, and memories that create the finest of daytime visualizations. They’re taking over his life. He’s been in and out of consciousness in never ending loops and cycles of memories of the greatest sexual experiences he’s ever had. And now he’s resorted to thinking up things he wishes he’d done, because it just isn’t enough-to replay all that they had gotten up to together. No, his newfound gluttony sees him wanting more and more.

He’s been constantly spacey, incredibly distracted, and unfairly horny for a few days now and there is only one person to thank for it all.

Dean Fucking Winchester.

That man…oh, that man has a wicked way with Cas. A way that turns him to putty and makes him want to get on his knees for worship. Something about his aura, the way he carries himself, makes Castiel go all mushy. Dean’s influence cannot be denied, nor does Cas want to do that. The energy surrounding the man demands to be noticed. It calls to the accountant like a siren song to a wayward fisherman. It’s as if a lasso, made of the thickest rope, has captured him; to be tagged and branded by the man, himself.

Oh, what a thought.

There’s no escape, not that he’s tried hard to look for one.

It’s been days since Castiel accepted his fate; with not a care in the world for how quickly he’d done so. He has to be okay with the fact that it’s all pretty much out of his control, at this point. The heart wants what it wants. And Castiel’s heart is set on Dean. 

For more reasons than the fact that he’s an incredible lover. 

Those arms have pinned him down to submission, yes, but they’ve held him with an air of protective authority. Those eyes have honed in their focus, and yet, they’ve been sympathetic to his inexperience. And that cock has made him squeal until he’s run out of breath, but it’s also given him gentleness with its determination. Dean has turned Castiel’s monochromatic world upside down in the most titillating of ways. Like an acid trip through a tornado, straight into the naughty Land of Oz; a land of technicolor and substance. Of pleasure and desire, in place of the expected sadness and hollowness.

The naughty Land of Winchester, more like.

He can’t stop himself from remembering everything, nor can he refuse the mental conjuring of things that hadn’t happened this past weekend, but should have. It’s now starting to become a problem.

When he’s at home, Castiel can indulge himself. He can sit back on his sofa, or his bed, relax with some music if he’s so inclined, and just let his mind wander. He can fantasize in comfort. Can take his time with himself. He can use his hands and his toy or just his imagination when he’s reached the point of no return. Everything is on his time, at his leisure.

At work, it’s a different story.

He has to remind himself to get his paperwork done, has to look over things a third and fourth time (one wrong number could be disastrous), and he even has to remind himself to behave in the office. That, in particular, is just the oddest thing and is probably the most fascinating development to behold.

Castiel’s always been a stellar employee, one who can be used to set an example for others, and one who is trusted by the bosses, not only because they are family, but because he works his ass off. He has more than proven his worth in the past five years. He’s self sufficient and doesn’t need a helping hand to do what he’s been trained to do. Because of this, Castiel takes on the most clients at ‘Novak Tax Firm’. He’s got the most work to do, aside from the secretaries, and has never complained about it a single day in his life.

He’s always on time, does not participate in break room gossip, hell, up until recently, he’s never even broken any rules or been reprimanded for bad behavior. If anything, he’s been told, on more than one occasion, that he should probably take some time off. Particularly when he gets into the thick of it and looses track of time. He tends to unknowingly overwork himself this way.

That happens more times than he’s comfortable admitting, out loud or otherwise, because it indicates that he has no social life or fun planned out for himself, at all.

But lately, Castiel has absolutely been bending some of the rules.

He’s taken lunches that last way longer than they’re supposed to, has skipped out on not one but two monotonous meetings this week, and he’s officially thrown caution to the wind and has started masturbating in his bathroom at the office; whenever his very new and very naughty thoughts take him to places he cannot come back from. It’s impossible to prevent himself from getting aroused when any thoughts of Dean grace the forefront of his mind, so he doesn’t bother trying and he certainly has been indulging himself.

Cas is just lucky that he hasn’t been caught by his brothers or his secretary, yet. He does work with family, and they do tend to walk right into his office after a quick warning knock. He knows this, and yet, he can’t stop the deviance, nor can he pretend as if he wants to. This is a side of himself he’s never known and while it should scare him, he’s only too excited to finally feel like this.

These days, he’s hornier than a pimple-faced boy with his first Playboy. It’s so silly, really.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on who you ask, Meg has been the only one interrupting his willful and inappropriate thoughts at work. Fortunate, because Meg is hardly a prude and wouldn’t actually judge him for it and unfortunate, for a similar reason. She wouldn’t judge him, but she sure as hell is going to tease him about it.

Which is actually fine by him.

Castiel is sure that were it not for their fondness toward one another, he’d be in big fucking trouble with Human Resources by this point in time. Knowing this makes it so that he can actually appreciate the fact that it has been Meg, and no one else, proverbially catching him with his pants down. It’s less embarrassing this way, that’s for sure.

It doesn’t change the fact that he’s screwed.

He knows with surety that Meg saw him with a semi hard on in his pants on Monday afternoon, when she too had skipped out on one of their meetings. He knows that she heard him moaning in his private bathroom when she had surprisingly popped in yesterday for lunch, and she’s caught him day dreaming at his desk more than once, today. He can only count himself as lucky, despite all this seemingly bad luck, that he’d been behind the desk, seated in his comfy chair, because the first time she’d come in, he’d absolutely had another hard on underneath it.

It’s humiliating, really, but the sting of that is lessened by the fact that Castiel also knows that she’s enjoying the hell out of all of this.

Meg has always loved playing games with him. She lives for the tease and she’s completely incapable of passing up on the opportunity to use something (or someone) to her advantage. Especially if it puts that person in the hot seat.

These games of hers usually involve sarcastic comments full of innuendo that are, of course, used to torment him. The kind of torment that usually comes from a secret admirer or an older sibling; with much pleasure on her end because she has the advantage of holding his discretion in her hands. It won’t be used against him in a more public work setting. Of course not. Because, also like a sibling, Meg understands how they’d both be implicated in this situation, since she’s gone out of her way to use his embarrassment to feed her own desires. That’s almost just as bad as his insubordinate behavior, if you ask him.

Possible lawsuits and pink slips aside, It’s no surprise really, that she has found a way to play with the situation. To mess with him. As always, things are in her favor and she is capitalizing on it. The little she-devil.

She playfully taunts him mostly, harmless in the scope of what she’s truly capable of, so he isn’t actually upset with her. If anything, Cas appreciates her playfulness, and he absolutely does not blame her. He’d be annoyed with himself, too, were he in her position. It just sucks that he’s on the shorter end of that stick.

“W-what?” He finally asks, still happily in a daze, ignorant to just how long it’s been since she first walked into the office.

Castiel gives her another blank but apologetic look. For her part, Meg doesn’t move a muscle as he steadily blinks at her, but somehow, her resting bitch face gets bitchier.

“You’re staring off into space, again, Clarence.” She reiterates loudly, as if he were deaf or didn’t understand English, all of a sudden. He figures it’s because he seems to have gone offline again.

His supervisor stands stoic, without any emotion, but she doesn’t remain impassive for long. A devilish smirk forms on her lips before she, in the same tone as before, adds,

“Welcome back. Still having dirty thoughts on company time, I see.” She tsks at him. “Who woulda thunk it, huh? Innocent ol’ Clarence has got a libido after all.” She waits for just a moment, pausing to really let her words sink in, because this is the first time she actually addresses what’s been going on out loud. It isn’t long enough for him to respond,

“Tell me, who the hell has activated your pleasure button, and where do I send him a gift basket?”

Her usual crassness doesn’t offend him, so much as it amuses him. He’s miffed at himself, really. At the fact that he keeps making it too easy for her to catch him in moments like this. She keeps being the one to witness his, no doubt hilarious, looks of surprise when he’s been caught lallygagging.

Like, right now.

The sound of her voice certainly breaks him free of his reverie in full, bringing him back to the real world with a spicy slap to his work ethic.

Mentally, Castiel is back in his office- once again seated at his desk with two very thick folders piled atop one another right before him. The files of his two latest clients; very rich ones, to be exact. He’s got his work cut out for him this season, that’s for sure. Cas has got to familiarize himself with all of their personal information if he wants to be able to do his job properly and make the two separate families feel confident in their choice of CPA. He is very expensive, after all. He’s got a certain way of doing things that keeps him working efficiently, so he’s still got to set up profiles for them and their past and future tax filings. He’s also got some make up work to get done on previous client’s profiles. This is most of the work that he’s missed out on all week because he’s been so absent minded.

Thank God he hasn’t made any real and disastrous mistakes, though he doesn’t feel like he’s far from doing so. He’s got to be extra careful, if he continues going on the way that he is.

“Ha, Ha, Ha.” He responds uncharacteristically sarcastic, pushing himself up closer to his desk while giving Meg a small smile after the fact, to remind her he’s just messing around. He isn’t usually so expressive. He’s in rare form by being comfortable with the delivery of
this sarcasm. “You’re hilarious.”

Her eyes light up at his unusual playfulness. “I really am, Doll Face. You’re just not happy about being in the spotlight so often, lately. I wonder, just who is it that has got your panties all twisted up?” She tries to ask again, solidifying her interest in something he’s been hoping to keep secret.

She seems to be attempting to gain more from his newfound openness.

It wouldn’t be a good idea to mention Dean’s name to Meg out loud, though. Solely because she is the exact type of person to know about ‘Purgatory’ and its extra curricular activities. He does not want his coworkers to know anything at all about that, if he can prevent it, nor does he want anymore people than necessary diving into his personal life. Not that Meg hasn’t basically figured him all out, at this point. He does try and keep some things close to the chest, though. Especially because of the close proximity to his kin at the work place. He’s definitely got to keep certain information from certain family members.

Not everyone is happy about his “lifestyle” choices. Some of his family is extremely religious and he’s learned that the devout tend to be a bit more judgmental despite their claim to be children of God. 

Meg isn’t like that, thank the heavens. Maybe Cas can speak more freely another time, when he is more sure about what exactly is going on between he and the club owner.

There are ways to go around names, though. He can probably get away with talking about some things without giving up all the information. Even if Meg outright asks for one. He’s usually very good at carefully constructing his words. He may have some trouble with social etiquette and things that come easily to others, but he’s always been a man of words.

Unless Dean is around, of course. That man can make him speechless.

Yes. He can do this. He needs to do this. Needs to let loose everything that he’s been holding inside of himself. The life of the loner has always been his way and so whenever certain situations have arisen, he’s always had to fend for himself and just hope he can get over it. All these new developments, these new feelings; all this pent up energy he has now, is killing him because he has no outlet. He’s been keeping his excitement over the turn of events that was his last weekend to himself for much too long. And Meg is the perfect person to relay it all to.

She’s discreet, and she doesn’t truly care enough about anything or anyone to go around gossiping behind his back and she genuinely cares about him as a person, despite her prickly nature. 

Now, he has Anna, of course, but he can’t lie and say she hasn’t been dodgy and kind of awkward since they’d spoken on Saturday. It’s pretty strange behavior, coming from her, but he hasn’t really had the time or the brain power to truly wonder why that is. She’ll come around soon enough. She always has. 

For right now, all he wants is some advice from someone he can trust (at least a little bit) and to vent his frustration.

Here goes nothing.

“I, umm. Well, I met someone on Friday.”

One of Meg’s eyebrows rises, in what seems to be reluctant interest, but Castiel knows better. Meg may look all ominous and loom over him in her ‘nut busting’ heels when she’s in manager mode, but she is always very much interested in what he has to say. She hasn’t even taken a breath since he’s said as much. Hasn’t even blinked.

“Go on.” Is what she finally says, her tone also giving away her genuine interest.

“Well, it was, ummm, sort of like a blind date, I guess. He came recommended by a mutual friend and we really, really had a good time.” He blushes as he spins his story, unable to help himself as he thinks about the unforgettable time he’s had with Dean. “I’ve been a bit loopy ever since, as you’ve noticed.”

The other eyebrow meets its twin in the middle of Meg’s forehead before she says, “Mmh, so what you’re telling me is that you got laid.”

Castiel balks at her and instinctually looks over to the entrance of his office to be sure that the door is closed. Thankfully, he finds that Meg had sealed them in together when she’d walked in.

The sigh of relief is deep. Almost as deep as Meg’s satisfied chuckle.

“Jesus Christ, Megan. Yes.” He confesses, not bothering to give any bullshit response, and he’s glad for it. It already feels like he’s dumped ten pounds of stubborn fat. “I had sex with him. Fantastic, euphoric, life altering sex.”

“Holy shit. I’m so proud.” His supervisor says seriously, her eyebrows now back to their resting bitch face form. Her lips belie her disinterest and sarcasm, with their tilted smirk.

It kind of reminds him of Dean.

He can’t help but to laugh at it. Her response is actually a nice one but her delivery is (as always) unsurprising. She’s always been bitchy at best, and murderous at most, and still, Castiel has always had a soft spot for her. Something about her ornery honesty has just rubbed him the right way, he guesses.

Cas can honestly say that he appreciates Meg’s candor and no nonsense attitude. He has not had many opportunities to pick and choose his own friends and while she would argue that they aren’t actually friends, just friendly colleagues, Cas considers her to be one of the best ones he’s got. Not just because she doesn’t pussyfoot around or make it difficult to work underneath her, but because she’s straight forward and phenomenal at her job. Not only does she listen to the employees in her charge, but she advocates for them and is the reason why four more accountants joined their team last year instead of Michael’s. She can be cutthroat when ‘shit hits the fan’, as she says on occasion, but fundamentally, Meg cares.

“Shut up,” he chuckles rising to the wave of playfulness until it gets awkward for him. Or drowns him. (He’s actually surprised that it hasn’t).

“I’m serious. This man has…well, he has certainly done something to me. I can’t stop thinking about him and our time together. It’s been difficult to concentrate on anything other than how I feel about him, and, in turn, myself.”

“Ahhh,” She smiles for the first time that he’s seen today, letting the rousing darkness fade from her face for just a moment. “Awww. It’s like you’ve gotten your first crush. Only, he did more than give you a cute little goodnight kiss, huh? Bet he gave you that good ‘D’ and now you’re not only rising from your self made prison cell, you’re reminiscing about your rescuer. Man, do I miss having steady sex with a man that can slay a dragon.” She sighs. “I need to get out more.”

Of course she says something like that. Of course she’d make some kind of twisted fairytale out of his woes.

Why am I even surprised? He wonders with an internal eye roll. 

Surprised or not, his confessions won’t stop coming. He supposes it’s because he feels like he can actually let it all free. With ease. He isn’t feeling self conscious or anything like that, but he just isn’t used to comfortably talking about himself this way.

It’s almost as if he’s speaking to Anna, or Gabriel. There’s a zen-like aura between he and Meg that doesn’t normally come this easy for him and for the first time since he met Anna, he acknowledges that he’s made a friend of Meg all on his own. Sure, she’s the one that got personable with him first, and shes never really given up on flirting with him even though she knows that he’s as gay as can be, but he’s interacted with her in ways that he never has with others-because she has made him feel comfortable enough to do so. He’s been confident in these interactions with her and even gets a good laugh out of her antics, when her dark form of teasing is not all directed at him. Maybe all hope isn’t lost when it comes to his social ability, after all.

This moment, right here, is certainly the most honest he has been with Meg about his personal life and (even more) honestly, he must admit that it feels great to open up a bit. It’s only now that he realizes that he’s always been so stuffy, so uptight.

“Good doesn’t even begin to describe it, Meg. It was transcendent.” He says, unsure where else to even take it from there, because so much has happened to him in such a short span of time. Cas doesn’t think he can conjure the proper adjectives to describe everything. Hell, no human words would suffice. Except, maybe the ones to say,

“I am ruined for anyone else, that’s for sure.”

That smile of hers remains, the look on her face almost resembling shock. “Woah! Look at you!” Her voice rises an octave or two, while he looks on, completely surprised by this reaction. She’s genuinely shocked. He’s never seen the look on her face.

He blushes even harder.

“You’re as whipped as cream, aren’t ya?”

He can’t tell for sure, but it looks like that itty bit of wonder that had been in her deep, dark eyes, slowly starts to turn back to genuine interest. She’s never shown such regard, then again, he’s never been so forthcoming about himself.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He laughs quietly, because he actually has thought that about himself but she absolutely does not need to know that.

“Yeah you would. So…give me details. Is he hot? Did you have multiple orgasms? Was he big or really big?”

“Meg!” Cas is sure his entire face is a flaming red tomato.

This only spurs the tiny woman on. “What? That answer is as good as a yes, and don’t act like you aren’t a greedy little bottom boy. Takes one to know one, though I’m probably more verse, myself.” She sighs, getting a faraway look in her eye, “Oh, sweet Lucifer, if only I had a dick,” then she’s back like she never left. “You though,” she hums to herself as she looks him up and down. “I can see it in your eyes, Clarence. You’ve got that cock hunger.”

“Oh, my, God, Meg. Please.”

Castiel nearly blows his top, squirming in his seat and feeling the hot, and melting pan of embarrassment cook him down to the bone. His entire face feels warm, goosebumps littering his arms as he tries not to gasp. He doesn’t understand how she does it, but he feels something close to arousal, hearing her talk like that.

She’s a woman, for crying out loud! Maybe it’s the ‘Alpha’ female in her. Maybe Cas just has an inherent inclination towards authority and dominance.

Either way, Meg’s smile turns slightly more deviant. “My my, would you look at that. Oh, you always submit so easily to a little teasing. Bet you were a sight for this dude, all doe eyed and innocent.” She licks her lips at Cas, not so much for the thought of Castiel in all his virginal glory but the act of his defilement. The sin behind it all.

The thrall she would revel in.

If he thought the heat had been unbearable before, he’d been fooling himself. It’s nothing compared to the red hot singe that consumes him now.

Something about Meg has always taken a bit of a hold of him; shes always been striking to him, and unapologetically herself, which he truly feels is the reason behind their connecting with one another in the first place. The reason behind their friendship. She flirts with him constantly but she’s never been this bold before, and it has never affected him in such a manner, either. No, never like this.

He needs to get a handle on himself before things get weird, because he can recognize her beauty, and appreciate her compliments, but Castiel doesn’t have any interest at all in having a sexual relationship with her. Or any other woman.

“I, I, I don’t know. Maybe.” He stutters an answer, as if she were literally asking. He has to speak or he’ll just keep squirming and he refuses to give this woman any more ammunition, if he can help it. “I was so engrossed by his prowess and so bewitched by his everything that I hardly paid attention to myself or my actions. He seemed to really like me, I think. And this morning he texted me just to check in.” Cas shrugs, completely ignoring Meg’s little flirtations, as he always does.

They are not going there.

She says nothing to that, just watches him with the same intrigue one carries when eyeing up something yummy.

“Anyway, it was a really good couple of days, and now he wants to see me again. He’s asked me out on a date for Friday.”

Meg’s interest visibly spikes as her eyes grow darker.

“Well, well, well. You’ve already spent a couple of days together? You don’t do things lightly do you? And it looks like you really made an impression, if he’s wanting to get together again. I’m really not understanding what the problem is here, kid. Seems like a match made in heaven.”

Ha! If only she knew that this match made in heaven had actually been forged in ‘Purgatory’.

“I guess I did. He seems like a pretty confident and able bodied kind of guy, though, and I’m not sure what exactly he’s seeing in me. While I am honest, I’m obviously shy and introverted. We’re like polar opposites. That’s got to be a bit of a hassle for someone like him. And, the thing is, he doesn’t seem apprehensive or worried at all. I’m the one that’s concerned about the quality of our date and the possibility of his losing interest in me because we’re just so different. I’m the one second guessing myself, here, because I don’t think I’d handle his inevitable rejection very well, though I don’t know for sure. I’ve never been in this kind of position before.”

There go her eyebrows again. “Been in a lot of new and unfamiliar positions, lately, huh?”

“Stop!” He whines, almost cheerfully because Meg is clearly having a good time and he loves that for her. “Help meeee.” His forehead meets his desk with a light thump followed by a whiny grumble. He’s never been so dramatic, he swears.

“He’s so out of my league, Meg.”

Meg chuckles but relents. “Alright, alright. I’m done. For now. And, I highly doubt he’s out of your league.”

Lifting his head and giving her desperate eyes, Cas asks, “What do I do?”

“Hmm, I don’t think I have ever seen you this…animated before.” She takes a second to look him up and down, also taking a couple of steps closer, as if to inspect him from a better angle. To be sure that what she’s seeing is real. “You really like this guy.”

It’s a statement more than a question, but Castiel answers anyway.

“Yes! He was so nice to me and he thought I was attractive and funny, and he’s seriously good looking, Meg. Seriously; its a little unfair. To be completely frank, I don’t even know how this all happened to me. To Me! I’ve never been on a date before, I’ve never had a real boyfriend…I can’t help but feel like I’m leaving myself open and vulnerable, here! I mean come on! A guy like that…he’s going to get bored with me and leave me devastated.”

Meg’s smirk only grows as she witnesses his distress. Calm as ever, and getting calmer by the second, she unhooks her arms from their cross underneath her chest. 

“I highly doubt that, as well, so just relax. Take a breath.” Meg replies to that last remark before addressing anything else. “This is what you’re going to do, Clarence. You’re gonna suck all this shit up and go on that date.” The answer is simple. Meg doesn’t even blink when she gives it to him.

He squints at her, trying to gauge her seriousness. “But-I’m,”

She interrupts him before he can get any further. “Look, Castiel, it’s quite obvious that you’re apprehensive, but it’s more obvious that you really want this dude and it seems like the feeling might be mutual. Just take it one step at a time, ok? Don’t panic. He’s already boned you, so if he wasn’t interested, he’d have ghosted you. And don’t worry about actually going out with him. It’s just a date and he is just a man.”

She sighs and then she gets that little smile on her face. The one Cas had seen on the day he’d introduced himself to her. “Get yourself all gussied up, bat your pretty blue eyes at him, and pray that he still wants to tear your clothes off at the end of it.” The shrug is non committal but he can tell that she’s really rooting for him.

And that makes him think.

She’s right. Dean is just a man, a very fine and very sexy man, but a man, nonetheless. He’s flawed (somewhere) and makes mistakes like any other human being. Cas shouldn’t have anything to fear other than losing himself in the process of pursuing someone else, which he’ll never allow. Not ever, especially not after all this self discovery.

And Dean has shown his interest. He’s been forthcoming with his wants and Cas has been more than delighted to see that the man is still as flirtatious as he’d been when they’d met. He’s just not at all used to this kind of attention. Flirtations have always been difficult to detect for him and in turn, it’s made him weary of someone like Dean being interested in him in an unfeigned capacity. But, like Meg pointed out, if Dean didn’t want anything to do with Castiel, he wouldn’t have asked him out. If he thought Cas to be weird or combative in their differences to the point of awkwardness, then he wouldn’t have bothered with pursuing him, at all.

Suddenly, like five fingers to the face, Castiel realizes that he can’t sit here doubting every interaction he has with Dean. The man has clearly stated his desires, and has actually gone above and beyond to let Castiel know that even he has been shaken by this new and intriguing connection they’ve forged. Something deep inside tells him that Dean had also been truthful when he had admitted to being side swiped by his newfound affections. At least, that’s how Castiel interpreted his messages. With this in mind, he tells himself that he’s got to give himself the opportunity to see things through, to not let his fear of rejection make him a hermit. 

Castiel needs to regain his footing and just go on this damn date. He’ll lose out on some things that could be really great for him, if he doesn’t; A dating life. A sexual partner that gives him all the feelings. And a self exploration to write about in his journal. It would be tragic, not to pursue it while it’s still available to him. He’ll regret it with his whole heart if he lets his fear stop him from getting something that he now really, really wants for himself.

“You’re right.” He tells her. “I need to grow up and just go with it.” She nods knowingly, “I just, I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never cared so much about someone else’s opinion of me. It’s jarring, to say the least.”

“I get it. I mean, I, personally, don’t care about what anyone thinks of me, but I understand why it would be so important to you with someone you mean to be with romantically. I know you’re smart enough not to put all your self confidence into how someone else views you, but I also know that you’re sensitive and a little soft, even when you’re standing your ground. There aren’t too many men like that around here, Clarence. You’re like a majestic little unicorn, ya know? One in a million and shy as hell.”

Castiel pauses all thought at that last statement. Meg has never been such a ray of sunshine. “I…you know what? I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Yeah? Well, now it’s really too bad that you only like dick, because I promise you, I’d be much sweeter than that if you didn’t.” And with that she turns away, making for the door with a sashay that even he can’t deny is sexy.

And there it goes. Knew it wouldn’t last. He thinks of her minute sweetness. 

“We are a Human Resources nightmare.” He sighs to himself as Meg cackles her way out of his office.

“Don’t flake out on him or me, Clarence. I want all the dirty details on Monday morning!”

—————

Meg’s advice holds steady for Cas throughout the rest of the week. The days pass at a pace that would make molasses jealous, what with all the excitement he’s got brewing in his guts, but he’s less freaking out and more anticipating a good time. Tuesday bleeds into Wednesday on a slow leak because he is still very much in his head about things that he’s never paid much attention to. Thoughts of the life he’s lived and what the future may hold keep him up that night, for the first time in a very long while. He doesn’t panic or have doubts about any choices he’s made, but he does lie in wake, quietly contemplating his solitude, and the fact that before now, he’s never recognized a certain feeling within himself. Not until Dean said something about it on that fateful Friday night.

Loneliness. He’s been exceptionally and heartbreakingly lonely, for as long as he can remember.

You see, Castiel had grown up with siblings. Lots of them. And like them, he too had been raised by the couple that adopted him, and while not really knowing his birth parents had made him crawl into himself a bit, he’d been gifted an amazing family in the Novaks. The loving hand, the accepting arms, the comforting words. Amazing from top to bottom, were Charles and Rebecca Novak. Being so soft spoken, hands-on, and all around the gentlest of people, there shouldn’t have been any reason for him to feel so solitary. He certainly hadn’t been lacking in potential playmates, either, seeing as there had been more than seven children in the house all at once, but he had felt it all the same, that loneliness. 

The youngest of ten, he’s the last adopted son. Michael had come first, then Lucifer, Gabriel, Zachariah, Naomi, Ishmael, Hael, Annael, Samandriel and then, finally, himself. They hadn’t all resided in one house at once, mind you. The three oldest siblings had already graduated high school and moved on before he even became a part of their family. Out of the three of them, Gabriel spent the most time at home, though he no longer lived there, and Castiel likes to think it was because Cas had always been his favorite. Truly, Gabriel had lived for their mother’s cooking and baking so he always came home for dinner whenever the mood struck him. Which was quite often.

Now, for the most part, the kids were left to do homework or extra curriculars after school and they spent most of their summers at one organized campground or other, and because of this Castiel was more directed and trained, than played with or listened to. His parents had done their best to give him attention, love and support, they really had, but there had just been too many children and he hadn’t been a baby with dire needs. His older siblings having already established their place in the household by the time that he’d come to live with the Novaks made it hard for him to feel close to them, as well. That had eased a bit as he got older but the more time that passed, the more he saw his brothers and sisters leaving the house and starting their own lives without him, before he could truly appreciate them.

That had been before his mother, Rebecca, had found Jimmy for him. His real twin brother. His own flesh and blood, who had grown up away from him because they’d been separated at birth. James had been raised by their biological father, Joshua. Joshua, who was still alive today, unlike their drug addicted mother, who passed of a heroin overdose when Castiel was three, leaving him in the care of her most trusted church friends. He didn’t get the opportunity to know his real brother or father until he and Jimmy had been in their twenties. By that point in time, he’d learned to bypass that empty feeling inside and they’d both been old enough to be completely different from one another.

Joshua has treated him with nothing but kindness and open arms from the start. He’d rejoiced at having another son, but, to this day, there is still a sort of disconnect between them that Cas has never really delved deep into. He’s got a father in Chuck and has never wanted to have anyone else take on that role, and he’s sure that Joshua has sensed that, but knowing his father is alive and well and has lived his life with no knowledge at all of having another son, Castiel can make his peace with growing up without him. In fact, he has.  Things have happened the way that they have for a reason. Castiel has always trusted that God knows that reason and that’s all he needs from it. 

So in the end, Castiel had been an incredibly lonely child. One who’s turned into a naive and lonely man.

He guesses that all that is about to change, now. Now that he’s sort of got someone in his life. He is definitely looking forward to this weekend.

Castiel is anxious about the date with Dean, yes, but he’s no longer worried over this being a waste of their time. He’s been reassured (in an odd, sexual harassment soaked way) by his superior at work, and (in a very sure, very welcome way) by the man himself, that it will absolutely be a worthwhile experience. At least, for himself. There isn’t any need to sit and wallow in self consciousness and insecurity. He’s a great person that deserves great things and awesome experiences, he knows this. It’s just never really occurred to other people.

That is their loss.

Castiel is humble, kind, and understanding and he deserves to live a life that excites him. He’s been an optimist for most of his time on this earth, despite what things have been like for him for almost three decades, now, and it shouldn’t stop just because of something unfamiliar. Something such as an impossibly handsome man taking genuine, romantic interest in him, when all others have never even spared him more than a look.

It isn’t so far fetched that someone could like him. He’s nice looking and smart. He comes from a good adopted family that worships and praises God, so he doesn’t have any hate in his heart for anyone. He’s traveled the world, he’s seen things that others never have or never will, and he’s spent a lot of his time charitably helping others in any way that he can.

He’s a damn catch!

Still, Castiel finds himself contemplating his past; his lack of a flourishing social life, and his previous choices in sexual partners.

These musings keep him awake that night more than any other thoughts.

On Wednesday morning, he’s tired as hell from a restless night but still, he spends his morning routine idly wondering why he’s never cared to pursue a relationship with anyone. Aside from the obvious lack of social skills on his part, and the absence of good sex and potential partners in his home town, he’s never even tried. Not really. But that’s mostly due to the fact that he’s never been interested in such things, has never really been into getting to know people on deep levels because he’s always been left more than mildly disappointed in his social interactions. He doesn’t really know who or what to blame in that department nor does he truly know how to get it right, in any case. He’s always awkward and weird. Hell, he’s only ever had sex with men based on mutual attraction and human need. It’s never been anything more than two people using one another to satisfy their carnal needs, and now that he thinks about it, he feels strange. And used. 

Has he always been so aloof? Has he always put his need for companionship aside even when the loneliness had been biting him in the ass? Has he seriously neglected to care for himself in terms of setting boundaries and making his needs apparent? Has he really just gone his whole life without the boyfriend experience? Yes. Yes he has. But how?

Doing well in school, staying loyal to his family, and giving his all to be a pillar of the church that had blessed him with such wonderful parents. Those were the only things he’d cared about whilst growing up, and that has leaked into his early adulthood, as well. It’s the only explanation he can come up with. He’d been too dedicated to his God and his family. That hadn’t left much room for making friends and going to parties. Not that he’d been invited to any.

That’s another conundrum for him, and the only conclusion he can truly draw about why that might be, is that he’s just too awkward, too unpracticed in reading social cues and understanding the motivations of others. He’d been pranked and bullied often as a child because of his inability to ‘read the room’ and has never really been good at picking up on innuendo and certain cues, so, in the end, he’d settled for loneliness instead of ineffable rejection.

The idea of being alone has always been an ideal one for him. Never being chosen, whilst never being rejected has been neutral, comfortable ground for him. If not for any reason other than sparing himself the scathing judgement of others. He’s never had friendships come by easily, due to his round about awkwardness, and he’s learned the hard way that in the face of diversity, some people can be very cruel. He certainly has never been in a relationship before because of this, but he seems to want all these things now. To have normal experiences that usually come when one is in high school and college.

Guess I’m just a late bloomer, in that way.

He wonders if he’ll ever truly understand how to really make friends. How to showcase his need for companionship. Aside from Anna, Meg, and some of his siblings, no one actually gets him. No one understands that his stoicism is just his natural state. He isn’t intentionally being rude or snooty. Thats just what he looks like. No one knows that, if provoked, he has much to say about nature and science and the wonders of the world. But he can also be laid back, and just talk about things that don’t matter. He’s got enthusiasm for stimulating conversation and deep connections.

There’s just a wee problem with his execution, is all.

Don’t ask him about what is considered socially acceptable behavior at an event, or what is proper conversation when someone isn’t as blunt as he is. Surely, he’d fail that test. But he wants so badly to be able to do this. To be social.

He wonders if he’ll fail this weekend. Wonders if he’ll actually have a successful date that could lead to an amazing relationship with Dean. He wonders what things might be like, in the future.

He also wonders if he’s getting ahead of the situation in a way that will embarrass him later on, but that’s a different worry he won’t let himself dwell on, just yet. Lest he lose all the progress he’s made so far. Going two steps backwards isn’t at all what he wants. 

After the long morning, Cas spends his Wednesday forcing himself to concentrate on his increasing work load and only allows himself to indulge in his fantasies once he’s in the privacy of his own home later on that evening. His distractedness loses its potency more and more as the working hours pass and he finds that having the night to himself, to really dig deep and figure out where his happiness lies, is something that he should have done long ago. He can’t fault himself for never having had the ability to self reflect from a different angle, when he hadn’t known that he could even do that. But he’s glad for it now.

He gets an amazing night’s sleep and wakes up refreshed and ready to tackle the world. That world being his new clients, of course. 

He has slacked off enough, thank you very much. 

On Thursday, he contacts Dean first thing in the morning, thinking that it’d be good practice for initiating things without prompt. He’s never had to do that before, not with a potential date, so it’s with a pretty decent amount of effort that he battles his self conscious nature. It isn’t easy just letting it go but he finds an ease in it, once he does. He grabs a hold of his confidence as soon as he can and shoots it out into a text message, starting conversation just for the sake of it and hoping he isn’t embarrassing himself. The guy did openly invite him to call or text whenever he may want to, and so, Cas does.

To Dean: 8:30 AM
Good Morning, Dean. I hope you slept well, and that you have a great start to your day (if it hasn’t begun already) 😊

It’s simple, to the point and it lets the man know that Castiel has been thinking of him. That’s a good thing, right?

With his heart in his throat, he waits for a reply. He feels a bit foolish for second guessing himself in the first place, but he doesn’t dwell in that feeling. He acknowledges it and moves on. Thankfully, it takes but 5 minutes. Dean responds in kind, happy to hear from him. It’s more than reassuring for his growing confidence.

From Dean: 8:35 AM
And a very good morning to you, Sunshine. I’m so glad to see that I’m one of the first things you thought about today. Making me blush before breakfast? Unheard of! 

You make sure you have an excellent day for me, Cas 😉 Mine has already gotten better.

After the warmth of that message juices him up through his morning routine at his desk, he receives more texts. It’s as if his one reach out has opened the flood gates. How glad he is to have taken that step.

Throughout the early morning, Castiel observes that Dean is courteous and asks him how he feels, how he’s doing. It isn’t lacking in sincerity, either. The club owner is more than eager to hear from him and says so in his messages as soon as he has the opportunity to. It makes Castiel feel something like awe, to know that someone he is so very interested in could reciprocate that feeling. It’s almost as exhilarating as sex with him had been, just in a different way. It awakens his senses and puts color on his cheeks, yes, but it also fills him with this touch of pure joy, this unimpeachable power that he feels expanding within himself.

He likes this feeling very much.

Is this what it feels like to know that someone I want for myself actually wants me back? Or is this an effect of this school girl crush?

He’ll further explore that notion at another time.

For now, he is content with basking in the attention he’s getting. Dean is witty and funny and all around exciting to converse with. He sends cute emoticons, the winky face being his favorite, and Cas finds himself blushing at the blatant flirtations and suggestive language Dean uses. It rouses him, stimulates his need to be seen as a sexual being and not just ‘Innocent Little Castiel.’

That’s more on him; confronting his needs and labeling them as what they are. This particular development has him observing himself in the bathroom mirrors every time he takes a quick pee break. He feels different on the inside, now that he’s allowing himself to recognize desire and want, and he has to keep checking himself out to be sure he still looks like the same Castiel.

Throughout the day, Dean continues to keep up their conversation. He uses little pet names for Cas, and reminds him just why he’d had an amazing time with this man. Being coquettish and seductive comes so easily and so naturally to him, that Cas finds himself with the sexiest bout of whiplash he’s ever experienced. Dean can go from talking about doing mundane tasks at work, to full on propositioning him, in seconds flat. Their light conversation can instantly get soaked in sexual implications and it seems like Castiel enjoys the fuck out of that.

In fact, he’s so aroused that Dean puts him on the edge of his seat for most of the afternoon. Especially when he’s (once again) less focused on his tasks and more focused on trying to flirt back.

So much for sparing himself from his own wayward thoughts.

From Dean: 12:37 PM
What are you wearing?

Dean sends him, after about an hour of silence from the man. The question boggles Castiel for a moment. He can’t figure out why Dean would ask this. He hasn’t expressed any interest in any of Cas’ other choices in outfits, why is he so curious now?

To Dean: 12:38 PM
A suit, of course. Why?

From Dean: 12:40 PM
Lol, you would take that literally. I was flirting with you, but I guess I’m also trying to get a visual of what the real you is doing and not what imaginary you could be doing.

So, I know you’re an accountant. I’m assuming you have an office, (Topeka, right?) and that you’re sitting there right now, having lunch?

To Dean: 12:41 PM
Oh 😊, I like when you flirt with me. But I won’t always know you’re doing so. Sorry for that.

Yes! I work in Topeka.

And yes, again! you were sort of right, I just finished my lunch. I’ve got a little time left of my break, so I’m just relaxing before crunch time.

From Dean: 12:43 PM
Oh, don’t you worry about that, Sweets. I’ll make sure I’m less subtle and more obvious next time 😉

From Dean: 12:44 PM
And… I haven’t eaten a thing, yet. I was actually just finishing up with one of the dancing platforms at the club. It got fucked up last night while one of my employees was dancing on it, and then it completely fell off the line a couple of hours ago, so I had to get to it before we open up tonight. Can’t have anyone getting hurt.

So, a suit huh? This suit come with a tie?

To Dean: 12:46 PM
You know how to fix things like that? That’s impressive. I once zapped myself with my toaster and it wasn’t even properly plugged into an outlet. And Yes. Im wearing a tie. A striped blue one.

From Dean: 12:47 PM
LOL. You adorable spaz.

Ehh. It’s not that impressive, just means I had to learn to fix a lot of shit when I was a kid🤷🏽 I bet you look delicious, though. I love a sharp dressed man 😁 Only thing better is watching it all come off.

To Dean: 12:48 PM
I can imagine that would be rather enticing. Im pretty sure I would enjoy seeing you in and out of one. Just thinking about it is making it a little stuffy in here. I probably should take off my jacket, but I’ve always liked having the extra layer.

Castiel then grows a bit bolder and decides he’ll ask the one question he didn’t think he would, because he wasn’t sure he was ready for that particular kind of interaction, but he wants to be. 

To Dean: 12:48 PM
Would you want to see a picture?

From Dean: 12:49 PM
Hell yes it is and HELL YES I do.

With a quickness he’s never shown to all his files, Cas works with the camera on his phone for the rest of his break, trying valiantly to get a selfie at a good angle. He isn’t much of a vain man, but he does want to take the best shot that he can. It isn’t a racy picture that he’s aiming for, but he wants to look as attractive as possible. This banter between he and Dean is beyond stimulating and he wants nothing more than to encourage Dean’s flirtations because they make him feel bold and courageous. He also likes knowing that Dean will enjoy seeing him in his work day best, and so, he snaps a shot of himself adjusting the crooked tie he wears, and stands to take a few pictures in front of the full body mirror hanging on the wall. He feels good, and thinks he looks pretty good in his favorite black suit set with white button up combination.

He sends both photographs before he can change his mind or grow too nervous, and the response is much better than he thought it could be.

From Dean: 1:03 PM
Damn, 🤤 I never thought my memory would play me like this. You’re even more gorgeous than I remember.

To Dean: 1:05 PM
🤭🤭 Flattery seems to come natural to you, doesn’t it? What are YOU wearing?

From Dean: 1:07 PM
I give credit where it’s due, Sweetheart.

No suit for me, today, but I do have a meeting with one of the club’s investors. It’s kind of a good thing that I’m dressed down. Dude is too easily intimidated. He’s never really been my biggest fan but he understands that this business is lucrative.

From Dean: 1:08 PM
[Image received]

Oh, boy. Castiel’s memory seems to be on the same wavelength as Dean’s because there is no way that he forgot just how stunning this man is. In his office chair he sits, lounging comfortably in a way that’s so much more effortless than it should be. He’s flawlessly handsome with his overgrown stubble and wind swept hair. Dean’s in simple black jeans today, a blood red button up that’s got the top two buttons undone, and he’s wearing what looks like a very expensive watch with a pair of designer boots.

Castiel wishes he were standing in front of him, wishes he could get an up close and personal view of all of that man.

To Dean: 1:11 PM
Toning it down must be a feat for you. I’m sure he’d be intimidated even if you were wearing burlap and potato skins. 🥵🥵

From Dean: 1:12 PM
😂 Thanks Baby.

Now send me another one. Lose the jacket and the tie 😏 

Castiel, once again, scrambles to his mirror and follows Dean’s request. He spends most of his day doing this; getting some work done here and there, texting Dean any time he gets a moment to look at his phone, sending and receiving random photos that make him laugh and sigh in equal measure, and reviewing his own work in triple checks, just to be safe. Fortunately for him, Dean respects the work day and doesn’t bombard him all day long, but it is nice to keep a steady conversation going in between completed duties.

The more they text, the more he inadvertently learns about Dean, and that is definitely something he’s been looking forward to. He’s fascinated by the man, and wants to gain access to the things Dean loves, the things he hates, the foods he prefers over others and the type of music he likes. Castiel wants to know it all. There’s no doubt in his mind that Dean is very much a private person when it comes to his personal life. He isn’t too sure how he knows that and he doesn’t really plan on looking into the particular reason why, but Castiel does appreciate that Dean seems to give up little tidbits of himself without realizing it. Each time, he finds himself clocking the information, comparing it to what he already knows and getting giddy at the prospect of having more of Dean.

More than that, Castiel is quickly growing fond of the way Dean divulges some things on purpose. As if he wants Cas to have these little snippets of him. To really know him. Even if the delivery is sometimes in a deprecating sort of way.

He learns that Dean is an older brother, and takes pride in that role in a way that reminds him of his own brother Michael; the oldest of the Novak boys and the most responsible of their lot. He too speaks of his younger brothers and sisters as if they were still children or teenagers. He too, takes pride in being the first born son. The big difference between them is Dean’s talks of pranks and hijinks. Of camping and road trips. They had a time- growing up. Sam and Dean got to spend one on one time with their father on these trips to different states and parks. They got to enjoy national sites and tourist traps together, while Michael has never planned a trip a day in his life, nor has he so much as told an unsavory fart joke.

Sam, Dean’s younger brother, is very lucky to have had such a fun sibling whilst growing up.

Michael’s fun o’meter ranged from stick in the mud to wet blanket. Anything in between was even more unappealing.

Castiel knows from experience.

Aside from being a proud big brother, Cas finds out that Dean enjoys simple things, like good food and cheap beer and that despite what he may say to suggest otherwise, the man isn’t all cock and conceit, after all. He’s sweet and can even come across as shy, especially when Castiel compliments him.

Like this afternoon, when Dean sent a short video clip of himself on the platform he’d been fixing earlier in the day. It smoothly glided up, and slid right back down just as well, whilst Dean stood in the middle of the platform, admiring his handy work with a smug smile on his face. He’d done that, and Castiel is absolutely sure Dean hadn’t meant to be boastful about his ability to work so smoothly with electronics and engineering, but Cas is going to point it out and let him know how amazing he is.

To Dean: 2:36 PM
It’s really a wonder that you did that all by yourself, not that I would have doubted you without the video evidence. I’m just so blown away. You could be an engineer!

From Dean: 2:40 PM
Aww shucks, Cas. It’s not that serious. Somebody has to keep the joint running.  

Of course he’d dismiss himself like that. Castiel has in no way expected him to openly talk about himself like that. He’s learned that Dean only does so when he’s talking about sex. In fact, Cas is prepared to lighten the situation right up if need be. He’s not going to let Dean’s own self deprecation stop him from declaring his truths from the tops of roofs everywhere, but he also doesn’t want to embarrass the man too much.

To Dean: 2:42 PM
Au Contraire, mon ami.

From Dean: 2:46 PM
Damn. I really wish I’d heard you say that. Please tell me you actually speak French 🤤

To Dean: 2:52 PM
Spanish, Italian, Latin and some others, as well. 

From Dean: 2:53 PM
Mmmm. That’s fascinating information. 🥴🥴🥴

From Dean: 2:55 PM
I’m sure you didn’t know this, but I kind of got a thing for language and accents. What you will know now, is that I am taking note of this. And I plan on using it to my advantage. Very, very soon.

Apparently, Cas needn’t worry too much about embarrassing the guy. Dean is very much a pro at changing the subject and steering their chat towards the frisky.

To Dean: 2:59 PM
Please do 😊 I’ll be using this new information to my advantage, as well. 

From Dean: 3:00 PM
Awesome

All in all, Castiel has a genuine good time learning these new things about Dean and being flirted with. As the day grows into evening, Cas finds himself having an even greater time with the latter. The later the day gets, the more bold Dean grows in these flirtations, and the more confident Cas grows in his responses.

Dean does such an amazing job giving him validation in the form of praise for it, too. He’s been complimenting the accountant all day long and is so successful in boosting him up that Castiel finds himself growing aroused every time those pet names come up, every time Dean sends him a cheeky photo, and every time he hears his phone chime with a new message.

Quicker than he’d grown this obsession, Castiel grows a Pavlovian response to the sound of his text notification. He stops whatever it is that he is doing and immediately gives all of his attention to his device. 

By the time the early evening rolls around, Castiel is more than half hard in his slacks and covering himself with his trench coat as he leaves the office a bit early. He practically sprints to his car, haste making him fast, but a hard on making him gimpy. Like never before, he prays to God that no one sees him fleeing the facility.

Lord Almighty, this has never happened to him before.

Dean is, well to be honest, Dean is as naughty as it gets (which is no surprise, really) and he seems to relish in the effect he has on Cas. That little trait of Dean’s is not just related to what they’d gotten up to in the bedroom, but what he says through text, as well. The man is wily. One could say he’s bawdy, bordering on raunchy. It serves to rile Castiel up good and proper. Sends his whole core on a spread-eagle ride straight through to pleasure town. Before he can even unlock his apartment door, he’s undoing his belt and palming himself in discretion with one hand, while he scrolls through Dean’s last texts with the other.

The man has been trying to get Castiel to open up all day. To talk about the naughty things that make the accountant sweat. He isn’t too sure he’s been flirtatious enough in his responses because he’s mostly felt mild but hot embarrassment and unrelenting but welcome desire. That combination has been more than enough as cause for distraction from his worries. The usual urge to over analyze what he says is gone when he’s this turned on, so he replies quickly and borderline incoherently, because he’s too caught up in his own head; visuals of what Dean could be doing to him right now making an absolute mess of him.

In no uncertain terms, Castiel tells him, that he’s really been fantasizing (and fighting the urge to indulge) about one particular thing all day, today. Since Dean had texted him this morning and made his stomach flip upside down with just a few words, Castiel has been thinking about what having phone sex or text sex with him would be like. He tells Dean that every single time his mind wanders to that particular idea, that it takes his breath away and makes him hot in the face. 

From Dean: 4:07 PM
I gotta hear all about it, Angel. Everything. All of it. 

From Dean: 4:08 PM
Spare no details, I’m a big boy. I can handle it 😉 

Oh Castiel knows he’s a big boy. He knows quite well just how big, too.

Ugh. The pet names, the outright inappropriate remarks, the way he describes the things he wants to do to him, it all serves to make Cas more than hot under the trench. Combined with where his mind has been for the better part of five days, he feels about ready to burst.

It’s when he hears the sound of his neighbor’s door handle that he scrambles to get his door unlocked, praying to be spared from any more embarrassment. Having to deal with Meg and all of her unrestrained vulgarity today had been enough for him. He doesn’t need to embarrass himself in front of poor old Mr. Ramirez, as well.

Besides, one less person knowing he’s turned into a hyper-sexual pervert is a very good thing, in his book.

Oh, Dean has made a mess of him, alright. And the guy isn’t even physically here! This man, this man, this man! He’ll be the death of Cas, at this point.

If he’s being totally honest with himself and his peace of mind, he doesn’t even remember the drive home. That alarms him. He’d been so goddamn distracted by thoughts of this gorgeous and captivating man, that he made it home virtually on auto-pilot. Cas can’t even recall getting into the vehicle after scrambling to his car in the employee parking lot. He’d been too focused on keeping himself covered.

Fuck.

Wait. He remembers waving at Meg in her Maserati on his way out of the parking lot. But that’s all.

Shit.

He needs to be more careful.

He could pummel himself for his carelessness, but it truly had been out of his control. After finally feeling like he’s gained some balance over himself, the distractedness that has infected him all week had suddenly reached a dangerous peak in its trend, but he can’t care about that when, finally, he gets the Apartment door opened and walks passed the threshold. He doesn’t bother getting to his bedroom, or the living room, or any other room, for that matter. He stops right in the foyer, pulling off his coat as soon as the door shuts behind him, and next, his belt. Castiel swiftly pushes down his pants and underwear to his thighs with one hand as he tosses the leather belt strap somewhere toward the kitchen with the other. His keys slide onto a spot on his entry table and he is off. 

Castiel’s mind is abuzz with sizzling scenarios, his cell in his hand still, when a new message comes in. Being the first to arrive in more than forty minutes, its like Dean can sense that he’s made it home, now. Not a single message had come in on the ride here and now, here Dean is, right back at it. With his tempting, enviously in-control-self.

The notification bubble on his Lock Screen tells him it’s a photo that’s just come in, the tiny thumbnail indecipherable to his naked eye, but he’s sure he sees some skin.

Oh.

He takes another look at the fairy sized picture.

Oh, it’s another one of those photos.

If he thought he’d scrambled to get into his place just a minute ago, he’s basically punching at his screen with his thumbs to get to that photograph. He can’t get to his messages quick enough, can’t get the sweat forming on his fingertips to let up until, finally, he opens the message thread.

Holy Jesus in Heaven.

Dean is…Dean is naked, save for a pair of hunter green boxer briefs with black borders and the name ‘Ethika’ tightly stitched onto the waistband. He’s standing at a wide bathroom mirror that looks familiar to Cas, so he’s going to assume Dean is still at the Club. Miles of skin are on display, his chest and abs in the shot at an angle that really does a wonderful thing to his aesthetic. Dean’s face is cut off, which is unfortunate but oh, he makes up for that with a body shot that makes Castiel go crossed eyed for a moment.

That’s the skin he remembers feeling on, licking on, tasting on. Skin that glistens when exerted, that bruises when the right amount of pressure is added. It’s all laid out for him to see. Labor induced muscle, a small scar here and there, perky nipples and a tapered waist. He’s like a feast for the eyes.

A feast that makes Castiel even more hungry.

None of that compares to how fascinated he is by these very tight undergarments, though. They end at the bottom of Dean’s thick, muscular thighs, and fit him like a second skin, but that is not what stops Castiel’s heart from beating at a normal rate (though it does have his mouth pooling with saliva). It’s the way Dean’s big hand grabs a hold of his very erect cock through the top of this underwear that’s got him all in a tizzy. His own dick jumps underneath his hand, where he’s taken a hold and squeezed as a response to Dean’s naughty display.

Before Cas has the opportunity to form a coherent thought, or pick his jaw and tongue up off the floor, another message comes in.

From Dean: 4:20pm
I hope you’re not feeling too self conscious about being in such a predicament. You are not alone in that. This is what happens to ME when I spend all day talking to and thinking about YOU. Been walking around with this for what feels like hours and I’ve been trying to behave but it’s impossible with you involved.

From Dean: 4:21 PM
I think it’s time I do something about this. Don’t you, Sweetheart?

He can’t answer right away, not with the rest of the blood in his body flying south, like a flock of birds in the winter. Instead, Castiel moans out loud and wastes no time getting himself in his hand properly, stroking himself once, twice, three times in slow succession and panting like a thirsty dog. Only then, can he reply.

If his loins weren’t raging so hard, he’d balk at what he types.

To Dean: 4:23pm
😵🤯
Yes. Absolutely Yes. Something must be done about that. Will you tell me about it? I seem to find myself in a similar fashion and I’m absolutely doing something about it.

From Dean: 4:24pm
😏 All the details are yours if you really want them, Cas. But I think I’d rather show you. Also, I have a request.

The pulsing in his hand has neither rhythm, nor control of itself. He’s rock solid, and weeping in a steady drip, drip, finding himself nearly curling forward with the latest surge of arousal running through his insides. He wonders what it could be that Dean wants from him. He hopes it’s something dirty.

To Dean: 4:26 PM
Yes, anything.

From Dean: 4:27 PM
Good answer.

I want you to keep your clothes on. You can touch yourself if you like, but nothing under the clothes until I say so. Think you can do that for me? If not it’s ok, I know you’ve probably never done something like this before.

To Dean: 4:26 PM
No I haven’t, but yes I can. There’s a first time for everything, after all, and I WANT to.

From Dean: 4:27pm
Another Awesome Answer. I promise it’ll be worth it.

[Image received]

Oh, this is just torture. Not only has Dean asked him to be patient and to keep himself covered, but now he’s tempting Castiel with a photo that shows just as much skin as the one before it. However, in this one, Dean’s hand is inside his shorts and because they both have iPhones, he’s sent Cas a ‘Live Photo’, one of those that’s more like a 3 second video clip that loops over, and over again when you click and hold on the image. 

In it, Dean accentuates the curve of his cock as he visibly wraps his hand around the base and pulls up on himself inside the boxer briefs. One slow stroke. The silhouette of his grip sliding up. A deep breath. A sigh. All while holding onto and hiding the most beautiful dick Castiel has ever seen.

The sight of it, that waistband stretching out to accommodate Dean’s hand and wrist, also reveals more of that hidden treasure inside his shorts. Repeating time and again, Castiel watches the clip as Dean touch himself until his screen goes dark and locks itself. When he can no longer see it, he shivers and twitches, waking up from the stupor such a sight has left him in. His hand, still holding himself, squeezes just a tad before he sighs.

Reluctantly, Castiel releases himself and lets his cock hang out as he holds his pants up while he shuffles into his bedroom. He’s already following Dean’s orders, unable to deny the pull he feels to take direction and knows that he’ll be rightfully wrecked at the end. Strange, how quickly he obeys, and yet, it feels so normal. Feels so exciting to relinquish his control and do as he’s told.

Once there, Cas takes a moment to just breathe. He isn’t used to this craving creature that comes out of him at the drop of a hat just because this man wills it to. He loves the exhilaration behind it, but he kind of balks at the unexpected intensity of it. Everything is happening in hyper focus and he needs a second, lest he get overwhelmed. He feels like he’s going to vibrate right through his clothes, he’s so eager for whatever this little endeavor will bring. Dean’s been teasing him all day, flirting him into fits of giggles and bouts of stunted arousal. It’s a wonder he can even think straight.

Somehow, he’s able to put a hold on his desires for long enough to cover himself back up and take a seat on the edge of his queen sized bed. Dean need not know that he had started to desperately touch himself as soon as he walked into his place. All he needs to know is that Cas is now following instructions.

He’s going to be sassy about it, though.

To Dean: 4:35 PM
If you mean to kill me, then congratulations are in order. You’re doing a wonderful job.

From Dean: 4:36 PM
Lol. I’ll take that as a compliment. Im not trying to kill ya, I swear. Necrophilia ain’t really my style. And patience is a virtue, Angel. 😇😏 You already know that.

To Dean: 4:38 PM
Just like I know that lust is a sin, and yet, here we are. 😇😈

From Dean: 4:39 PM
Not gonna argue that, but like I said, behaving with you is impossible. How about you tell me what you’re feeling, instead.

To Dean: 4:41 PM
Yes, I’m starting to comprehend that behaving becomes a thing of the past when you’re involved. I feel hot and almost itchy. My skin feels like it’s pulled tight. Feels like I can be triggered by any little touch and I’m harder than I have ever been in my life.

From Dean: 4:43 PM
Mmmm. That’s exactly what I was hoping for. Really makes me wish we were face to face because now I really remember how responsive you are. That’s really hot to me, Cas.

To Dean: 4:44 PM
Oh. That’s right. You like knowing this ☺️ I remember you taking great pleasure in making me beg for it.

From Dean: 4:46 PM
Great. Fucking. Pleasure. Now, tell me where your hands are.

Castiel shivers again, because there is no way in hell that he just wasn’t going to. Not after a statement like that. This man knows what he’s doing here, seems to be able to read Castiel and the things that make him tick, like a book propped open just for him, and while it isn’t a surprise, it is indeed pleasant.

To Dean: 4:47 PM
At my sides, I’m waiting for you to tell me what to do with them.

From Dean 4:49 PM
Because you’re a Good Boy, aren’t you?

Fuck. Did he really just text that? He must remember how Cas had pleaded to be taken, to be owned. Goosebumps take over his epidermis, his hands grow sweaty as his asshole spasms around nothing. God, how could so few words create such a reaction out of him?

To Dean: 4:50 PM
🥹🥹 YES, I want to be Good.

From Dean: 4:52 PM
Damn right you do, because My Good Boy gets rewarded.

Damn this man, but bless him, too. 

From Dean: 4:52 PM
Put your hands where you would want mine. But remember what I said. Keep the pants on. Don’t jizz in them.

From Dean: 4:54 PM
[Image Received]

Murder.

Dean obviously wants him dead, wants him strung out and overdosing on all the things he’s saying and all the pictures he’s sending.

This one in particular, is one for the albums. Dean’s boxer briefs have disappeared and his hand no longer keeps him (semi) modest. He’s all out in the open, exposing himself in his office like he doesn’t have a care in the world, nor a worry that someone might catch him. He’s got a rock solid hard on, standing up and pointing slightly to the left; pink all over and strong from base to tip. It’s another Live Photo and so, Castiel watches, with rapturous attention, as all eight (plus) inches of him bobs up and down, making his testicles sway right along with them.

How mesmerizing it is to look at him like this. To be the recipient of such art. To recall all the ways that cock has made him see God.

He presses and holds the image to “love” react to it and proceeds to watch it some more. 

Castiel is sure he makes an unhinged sound that begs for mercy, as he watches the movement play out on his phone over, and over, and over again. He only just remembers that he’s been given a step to take. That Dean is waiting on his reply. The man wants him touching himself and so he does.

Carefully, like he’s got all the time in the world, Castiel places his right hand on his left shoulder. Gently, he squeezes at the solid muscle that’s been getting more tense, the more aroused he’s become. A quick massage sweetens the muscle up in no time and with a deep breath, he slides that hand over to the middle of his chest. Cas feels the warmth and the tingle travel along with it as his body reacts to the touch, reacts to Dean, to the all around orgasmic atmosphere that’s been surrounding him all day.

His nipples immediately pebble and rub against the material of his dress shirt as he brushes over them, lingering on their peaks. The material feels good against his aching skin.

As he lets his own touch explore his chest and midriff, Castiel uses the other hand to let Dean know what he’s doing, but first he wants to give Dean a dose of the medicine he so likes to serve up.

He takes a picture of himself, his shirt untucked, a few of the buttons he’d undone earlier revealing his warm and flushing skin. His tie is all askew, flipped backward and looking a little crumpled. Those cheeks of his are swirled with color and his hand grabs a hold of himself like he’s been dying for. He looks directly into the camera and allows himself to feel the heat of anticipation before he clicks on the capture ‘button’.

He‘s absolutely debauched, presenting as more enticing than he’s ever looked or even felt before. The hand keeping his erection from sight does little to actually cover him fully, and he loves the message it sends. Love even more the idea that Dean will see it and feel a few heart palpitations of his own. As far as racy photos go, Castiel still feels a little like he’s residing on the vanilla side of things, but still, he’s proud of the fact that he’s had the gall to do it.

To Dean: 4:56 PM
[Image Sent]

Holding himself in hand and only allowing himself the lightest of touches and the slowest of strokes, he waits on Dean’s reply. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and exhales slowly and steadily. His lightheadedness fades a bit, his heart rate righting itself as well, as he keeps his touch slight and careful. He wants to hold on to what’s happening right now between them for as long as he can because it’s been days since he’s seen Dean, days since he’s kissed him or touched him and now, more than ever, he wishes that they were together.

From Dean: 4:59 PM
JFC Cas.

From Dean: 5:00 PM
I don’t know how you do it with all your clothes still on but you look positively indecent 🥵🥵🫠 You’re doing so well taking instruction, too. Making me really wish I was there to show my appreciation.

The feeling is mutual. Castiel wishes more than anything that Dean were here, teasing him, touching him, taking him on a ride until his damn wheels fall off.

To Dean: 5:01 PM
😚Thank you, and trust me, your appreciation is felt, though I will say that I also wish that you were here right now. I can be patient and wait until tomorrow night to see you, but I do have to admit that it’s been the longest week ever and it’s not even over, yet.

From Dean: 5:03 PM
It sure has. And ISTG I feel the same way. I just don’t know if I can pull it off like you. I’m not a very patient man, Cas. I don’t know if I’ll make it until Friday evening.

To Dean: 5:04 PM
I won’t be mad if you don’t. You know, if you were wondering whether I would or would not be cool with seeing you before our date 😊

From Dean: 5:05 PM
Oh I know you’d be cool with it. You’d let me do just about anything I want, wouldn’t you?

To Dean: 5:06 PM
Yes.

From Dean: 5:06 PM
What if I told you that the only thing I want, is for you to tell me what YOU want. It would please me immensely to know that I’m giving you exactly what you need. 

Mmm. Mmmm. Mmmmmm. He’s back to this, now. Back to giving Cas the floor, to letting his own desires take precedence over all else. Castiel like this. He likes it so damn much that he pulses in his own palm and finds himself arching his back and moaning out quietly.

To Dean: 5:08 PM
I’d say that if that’s the case, I like where this is going 😁 and I’d also say that what I want is to feel your tongue on me, again. Everywhere.

Shit, he can’t believe he’s sent that. Can’t believe he didn’t feel jittery or anxious or worried over being so transparent with his desire. He’s never been so wanting. Only with Dean.

From Dean: 5:09 PM
😋🤤 Mmmm. You’re  making me think about how much you leaked for me. And the way you sounded the first time I sucked you off. Damn. You taste like every dessert I’ve ever had. 

Wow, that’s…oh, damn.

Dean’s words bring him thoughts of that night and how eager he had been for that first orgasm, only for Dean to get him right to the edge before taking it all away. How torturous but stimulating it had been. How magnificent Dean’s tongue had felt; wet, thick and talented. How he’d imm distill imagined what that strong muscle would feel like all over his body.

He doesn’t have too long to think on this, as another message comes in and this one nearly makes him drop his phone.

From Dean: 5:11 PM
[Image Received]

Oh, fuck.

It’s another Live Photo. Dean’s stroking himself languidly, a quick moan coming out of his lips and then, a line of spit lands right on the middle of his dick, right before Dean’s hand spreads it around with a single swipe.

Cas is not gonna make it through the night. He’s going to end up climaxing in his pants like a pent up geyser and then having a very unsexy heart attack. If Dean keeps this up, he’s pretty sure he’ll implode with the force of his orgasm.

Hard and warm and satisfying, it will be but the fun will stop there and he will definitely be cold and wet in his pants and then he’ll die. Immediate, embarrassing death for him.

Thankfully, Dean saves him from an untimely demise when he sort of reads Cas’ mind, giving him some relief in the form of more instructions.

From Dean: 5:12 PM
Get your pants unzipped and pull your dick out for me, Angel. Balls and all. You can take off your shirt if you like, but I still want those pants to stay on. I want that dick Al Fresco 😎 

Castiel laughs out loud at that, while thinking, Thank God! He can’t take the pain anymore, the throbbing that won’t quit. He needs to touch himself now if he wants to hold on to his sanity.

Castiel unzips his slacks, tearing them open to the point of ripping the zipper from its sew-in and pulling all of himself out into the cool bedroom air. He’s convinced the throbbing in his manhood is visible to the eye and takes a deep breath before he takes a photo of his desperation and sends it to his inquisitor.

Take that, Dean! He thinks with a smug little smirk. Get a load of what I’ve got to deal with because of your insistent sexual nature and the awakening it’s bestowed upon mine.

To Dean: 5:14 PM
[Image Sent]
Like this?

Heat rushes through his entire body as he hits send, the feeling of letting his inhibitions go making him feel slightly off his rocker. It’s eye opening, really, how much he finds himself enjoying the sensation of letting himself free like this. Giving up control, letting instinct take ahold of him.

Letting Dean take ahold of him, once again.

From Dean: 5:15 PM
Fuck Yeah. You’re perfect, Baby. Now imagine I’m there, sitting right next to you. What am I doing?

Oh, the things he could be doing.

To Dean: 5:16 PM
You’re kissing me. Deeply, doing that thing you do, where u suck on my tongue and then my lips.

From Dean: 5:18 PM
Knew you loved that.

To Dean: 5:19 PM
The first time you did it, I thought I’d come on the spot.

From Dean: 5:20 PM
Aww, you flatterer. Man, a sight for sore eyes that would have been

From Dean: 5:21 PM
What else am I doing, Sweetheart? Am I touching you? Am I tasting your neck?

Shit.

Cas can see it. In his mind’s eye, he can see that man seated beside him, his heat, his presence, demanding all of Castiel’s attention. He can imagine how affected he’d be by Dean’s touch, by his kiss, by his everything. He’s transfixed on this imagined scenario, and doesn’t realize that he’s reaching out to someone that isn’t even there. Not for quite a few long seconds of time.

Fuck, but this is a cruel, yet satisfying way to get his kicks.

It’s new for him. In the same way that everything with Dean is new. It’s also different. It’s exciting. Sexting is not something he ever at all thought he would want to explore before tonight, but Castiel is finding himself more than responsive to this virtual kind of stimuli. He’s flourishing in it, he’s finding his footing, demanding what he needs and being the enticing creature he never thought he could be. 

Dean is not here physically, but the messages sent between them have acted as so much more than just a buffer to the solid longing he’s been feeling. They’ve given him a new way to explore the desire that this man brings out of him.

No. Dean isn’t here, but he’s felt, nonetheless. In spirit, in soul…in his scrotum.

Castiel can sense him all around. In the air, in his mind. It causes his very descriptive and wild running imagination to conjure up these wispy and thin, but tangible, physical touches that accompany all the splendid fantasies of Dean mixed in there. It certainly enhances this experience for him. He’s never had thoughts at a level like this, where every part of his body is active and participating. 

He’s exhilarated. His skin is prickling with goosebumps, his mind is slowly winding down and Dean is a force to be reckoned with.

Just the way Cas remembers.

The longing in his heart suddenly doubles. 

Shit. Cas actually misses him. Not just because being with Dean is fun, but because no one has ever made him feel like this before. It’s bananas; batshit crazy, because he hardly knows the guy but right here in this moment he does. He misses the hell out of Dean.

His sexual need doesn’t take a back burner to that, though, because Castiel also remembers what it felt like to be given the option to take the lead. To be in control of their pleasure through the will of his bed mate. Just thinking it sounds crazy but they’ve managed to do it, he and Dean. To play off of each others strengths in the bedroom so easily and effortlessly, that Castiel has to assume Dean was the one doing all the spell work, someway, somehow. Castiel has never been so smooth and fruitful in these kinds of endeavors. There’s no way he’s the cause of all of this. It has to be Dean.  

It still leaves him marveled, how the guy can take over by giving him the floor; leading by giving up the reigns. It’s all kinds of hot and Cas suddenly feels even more desperate.

With that in mind (and body), he types out his reply.

To Dean: 5:23 PM
Yes you are. You’re touching me on my thigh and my back. Your tongue is on me, just as I’ve asked. On my neck, my chest. You’re leaving me with little presents to admire later.

He also remembers just how much Dean enjoyed Castiel’s begging to be tagged and owned. He had surprised himself that night, when he had begged to be marked up, but what carried the all around “more” factor there, was the way that Dean lit up at that request. He more than enjoyed it.

That’s something they both have in common.

From Dean: 5:25 PM
Little presents, huh? I did say I’d spoil you 😘 

He smiles harder, entertained and turned on.

To Dean: 5:26 PM
I don’t think calling them presents does them Justice. Treasures, Dean. They are little treasures. And I do very much enjoy being spoiled by you.

From Dean: 5:28 PM
Then I promise to do more of it, because we have only just scratched the surface. Now, tell me what YOURE doing while I’m having my way with you.

It’s with a hefty amount of pleasure that Castiel does so. 

To Dean: 5:30 PM
I am touching you back, reacquainting myself with everything that is you. Mostly, I’ll be running a hand through your hair, giving you access to whatever you want of me. 

From Dean: 5:31 PM
Good. But be warned, Sweetheart. I want it all 😈😈😈

To Dean: 5:33PM
Then take it all. It’s yours. 

From Dean: 5:34 PM 
Fuck Me. Now I really wish I was there.

Grab your lube, Cas. You’re gonna need it. 

As he’s done all day, Castiel scrambles to do as he’s told. The nightstand by his bed carries within it all the toys and supplies he’ll need to have a successful orgasm. The Astroglide sits right on top, a fresh unopened bottle just waiting to be put to good use. Which is excellent for Castiel, because he can’t hold off anymore, everything that’s been building up all day has finally reached a point of boiling. Castiel’s pot overruns and all that he’s been keeping inside is unleashing itself.

The plastic wrapping on the bottle cap gets torn and thrown over his shoulder as he opens and pours in that order. He doesn’t bother with saving his pants from the cold liquid, he’s beyond caring about them now. All he wants is to reach that climax. So, he palms a slippery hold and starts to work himself over.

“Oh my God,” he sighs, finally getting the relief he needs.  

Everything already feels so raw and heavy, that he finds his rhythm quickly. Castiel squeezes gently, pulls on himself slow and meaningfully, and then he picks up the pace. For a long, glorious minute he basks in the tingles on his skin, the pulse of his arousal, and the pace of his hand. 

And then his phone rings, startling him to the point of gripping himself tighter and stroking harder. The moan that follows practically rattles the bed frame underneath him, a vibrating effect that only enhances his pleasure.

“Fuck,” he squeaks.

The phone is in his hand before he realizes he’s grabbed it, and when he looks down at the screen he realizes that he’s somehow answered the call. 

It is Dean. Thank God, its Dean. He doesn’t think he’d be able to coherently speak to anyone else at this point in time. At least, not without embarrassing himself beyond belief, because he for sure will not be able to stop what he’s doing, nor will he be inclined to stop being vocal about it.

Not even an ill timed call from his parents could stop the raging sex from pouring right out of him.

Castiel, breathless and sweating, puts Dean’s call on speakerphone. 

“Hiya, Cas.” Dean’s controlled cheer booms from the speaker box, smooth as butter made with gritty sand. 

Castiel is immediately envious of his ability to remain calm. 

“Hello Dean,” he practically grinds out through his shallowing breaths, huffing at the end because his hand is still going and he can’t care to stop. 

Dean, observant fucker that he is, doesn’t hesitate to let it be known that he’s privy to the situation at hand. “I’m gonna take a wild guess here, and say you’ve started without me.”

The sarcasm should not be as sexy as it is. 

Cas feels himself go hot, not with shame, but with more arousal. Dean had probably been waiting for a response and Castiel only now realizes that he’s neglected to do so. He’s kept the man waiting. He’s kept an impatient man waiting and he’d gotten desperate enough to call.

Why that turns him on even further, he’ll never know, but it does, and he has to gasp through that arresting feeling. 

When he looks at the iPhone screen again he sees that fifteen whole minutes have passed since Dean sent him after the lube. 

Well shit, he’d been so absorbed by finally feeling some pleasurable relief that he’d lost track of time. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Is all he can say, his hand slowing down but not stopping its treks from the root to the tip and back to the root.

“Don’t be, you’re right where I want you. Well, I’d rather have you sitting in my lap, but this is good, too.” 

Yeah, he can get behind that. He would also prefer to be seated in Dean’s lap while he feels like this.

“I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop, I’m just so-“ he moans when his thumb brushes underneath the head, snagging just so at that frenulum, making him shiver anew.

“I know, Baby. It’s ok. I don’t want you to stop. But I do want you to take a breath, slow down, and tell me what you’re doing.” 

Taking in a deep breath automatically calms him down, while holding it for a few seconds and releasing it slowly, only helps to get him back on semi equal footing with his lover. He’s absolutely ruined, rocked to his core by how intensely horny he’s feeling, but he’s got a better grip on himself, once more. 

How long it lasts is anyone’s guess. 

The moan that comes out him makes him feel like he doesn’t have very long, at all. 

“I’m sitting on my bed, with my cock in my hand, dying to come.” He says, unapologetic. 

Dean hums his acknowledgment. It’s not easy to decipher right away because the man isn’t standing right in front of him but Cas gets the sense that Dean is completely at ease here. Totally calm and collected, just taking in information; nothing too crazy. 

“Dying, you say?” And he sucks his teeth, not disappointed but absolutely sympathetic, as playful as he is. “We can’t have that now, can we?” 

“No, we can’t. Dean, please,” Castiel can’t help it, he starts to whine a bit, begging already because he is lost in the feel of his hand and the sound of Dean’s voice; deep and dark and sweet like a cherry. 

“Okay, Angel, I got you. So, one hand is on your cock, yeah? Grab ahold of your sack with the other for me.”

Castiel does what he’s told without question. “Oh, oh.”

”Now, gently massage until I tell you to stop.” Dean continues.

The breath that comes out of him is harsh, doubled in speed by the pleasure he feels by stroking and massaging at the same time. 

“That’s so good,” he finds himself saying without much thought, allowing himself just to feel and not worry too much about what he might say. “So, so good.” 

Its been a lot easier to do that than he thought it would be. He’s always had a hard time not over analyzing his thoughts and interactions. The things he says and the things that he does. It’s been so easy to let that fear of messing up go, to just be in the moment and that absolutely has everything to do with Dean. 

“Yeah it is,” and right there in that moment, is when Castiel hears Dean’s short breath and stunted sentence. He hears the breathlessness, the grit that joins his tone and he immediately knows that Dean is right where he is. On a precipice, once again. “In a second, I want you to stretch two fingers out and press up right behind your balls.” He says through a gasp and a hum. “Just trust me, okay?” 

He’s doing it, too. Dean’s telling him what to do but he’s touching himself and getting off on giving Castiel the instruction. Damn. That’s something. 

Something so incredibly sexy to him, Castiel has to cry out loud as he follows those orders, as well. 

Two of his long fingers soon find that hidden spot behind his scrotum and as he gently continues to glide his hand over his aching length, Castiel hums out a low groan as those fingers find a spot that’s so sensitive to the touch, he feels a thick drop of come leak out of his dick an onto his thigh, where his slacks absorb most of it. And then he rubs, and tugs, and strokes and it isn’t long before he’s-

”Fuck, Dean, Oh.” He chokes as he rubs, melting onto his mattress even further, all the tension of the day leaving his body. He’s so close, he can already feel it.

“Feels good, huh?” 
 
“Yeah, feels like you’re here, touching me there.” 

“Baby, if I was, I’d be licking you there.” 

And then Dean moans too, and Castiel doesn’t think he’ll last much longer than a few seconds because the sound is deep and long and it reminds him of just how sensual it is when he can feel the vibrations of it pressed up against his chest or his back. 

There’s the sign, the point of no return. Cas hurdles past it, losing the rest of the breath he holds. His impending explosion makes itself known by the heavy tugging in his gut, the erratic pulse in his palm. “Shit, I’m going to-“

Deans reply is just as desperate, just as unhinged. ”Me too, Come on, Cas. Come with me.” 

The sounds Dean makes on the other line send him on a frenzied ride through his orgasm. Dean calls his name out, gasping and hoarse with the force of his climax and it all comes to a crescendo at the same time for the both of them. 

Castiel’s bedroom spins, all the air gets sucked out of it through an open window and is brought back in with such gale force, Castiel has to cough out his next exhale. It’s beautiful, the sensation of satisfaction ransacking his entire frame, bringing itself down upon him as if he stole something from it.

Holy crap! Touching himself has never made him see such stars. 

It’s when they’re catching their breath, silent but for the air passing through their lips into their lungs, that Dean finally says something. 

“I didn’t think I’d make it to tomorrow night, but I gotta be honest here, Cas. I might not be able to get out of this chair until Monday.”

Castiel cackles until there are fat tears leaking from his eyes. They laugh and laugh at how ridiculous they are for long minutes before Cas relays what happened to get him to such a desperate point and then they’re giving each other promises to always rile each other up like that. The excitement led to very powerful orgasms that Castiel absolutely wishes to experience again and Dean isn’t far behind in his agreement. 

Their voices go sluggish, as Castiel readies himself for a night spent at home and he can hear just how tired Dean is, as well. It’s been a pretty tense day, followed by an intense orgasm. They both deserve to relax, he decides. 

Like two teenagers with permission to freely use the phone, Castiel and Dean go out of their way to keep their conversation going. Castiel talks about his supervisor and her ridiculous flirtations, about his hilariously sarcastic niece, Claire, and the nephew he has yet to meet. Dean tells him all about how his “Uncle Bobby” retired from the club, only to open an auto shop uptown and overwork himself there, instead, about his younger brother’s crazy studying schedule and about the very expensive part he needs to order for his car. They laugh at Dean’s silly jokes, blush at each other’s compliments and bid each other a good night’s rest when there’s more yawning than talking happening. Dean reminds him to be ready for seven tomorrow evening before he says good night one final time, and Castiel agrees, telling him that he really cannot wait to see him for their date. 

All is as it should be. 

The anxiety that made him question Dean’s intentions, the anticipation that made him weary of failure, it’s all simmering down on low; mild and undisturbed, to the point of being forgotten. He goes through his night time routine in his shiny white apartment in a tranquil state and tells himself that he couldn’t ask for anything better.  

Cas is going to be okay. Their date is going to be amazing. He just knows it.