Dean watches his reflection in the mirror, studying his features by the light of the bulb-studded frame. Inspects his chin to make sure the powder he used to cover his stubble set. Traces the lines of the black kohl he used to outline his eyes, highlighting the emerald glittering there. Makes sure his nose isn’t shiny and none of the chocolate from the candy he had earlier stained his teeth. After tousling his hair into messy perfection, Dean finds nothing else needing his attention.
So he sheds his robe and stands to fuss with his genitals. Dean notices the pubic hair to the right of his penis looks wilder than his left, and snatches his tiny scissors from his vanity to trim them. Very careful not to cut himself, his concentration is almost thrown when a set of hands slam onto his shoulders.
“Shit,” he hisses, scissors flying away from his junk. Dean turns to glare at the person who startled him. Charlie grins up at him, immune to his fury.
“You almost ready?” she asks.
“Just about,” he huffs, “although I nearly lost my most important piece of equipment because of you…”
Charlie waves him off, “Maybe next time try not to be so distracted by your dick?”
He switches to a more lecherous grin, swinging his penis near her with a twisting hip dance. “Pretty hard to not get lost in this beauty!”
She shrieks with laughter, batting it away. “Save it for the crowd, Dean,” Charlie says, “Maybe there you’ll find someone who’ll appreciate it.”
Dean pouts, fists on his hips. “I wish my best friend would appreciate my penis.”
“If you chose a best friend who wasn’t a lesbian then maybe they would,” she says, reaching to the seat next to Dean’s for her discarded robe. Charlie shrugs it on, tying the sheer green fabric over her naked body in a loose bow. It’s not enough to erase the curves of her porcelain skin but enough to protect against the chill from the conditioner.
Charlie grabs a makeup wipe and begins ridding her face of its paint.
Dean twists around and leans against his vanity, grooming forgotten. “How’s the crowd tonight?”
“Horny, drunk, same as always,” she tells him, “although there’re a few in the crowd who’ve been more ballsy than usual.”
He snorts a laugh behind his fist. “Isn’t it our jobs to be ballsy .”
“ Your job,” Charlie smirks briefly before her lips fall into a firm line. “But seriously watch out, they’re treating this like some kind of stand-up comedy night. Nearly didn’t climax during my set. And when I did, it wasn’t as toe curling as it usually was.”
“Hey, we all suffer from a little performance anxiety every now and then.”
“True,” Charlie nods, eyes glinting dangerously, “I mean if I needed to I could always....” She grips the edges of her vanity and bucks upwards, mouth parting in a tiny ‘o’ and eyes screwing tight in mockery. Her groan lilts into a laugh near the end as she doubles over her supplies.
Dean shakes his head. Years after his first performance and he’ll never live it down.
It all began because his uncle needed a favor from him. Dean was packing his locker at Singer’s Auto when Bobby called him into his office. He knew it wouldn’t be good when Dean walked in to see Bobby pouring two glasses of scotch.
“I’m not getting fired am I,” he asked, nerves twisting under his skin like an ill-fitting sheet.
Bobby scoffed at him. “No, I ain’t firing your dumb ass. In fact… I might have a second job for ya’, if you’re interested that is?” He put the bottle away and picked up the glasses, holding one out to Dean.
Dean glanced at the drink, and then at his boss. “Let me at least down half of this and then I might be ready to listen.”
As it turned out, Crowley, owner of the Crossroads Club in downtown San Francisco, was in a bit of a pinch. Known for their live shows, Crowley’s club offered some of the best entertainment in southern California - or so he heard. Dean never took Crowley up on his offer to visit. He preferred to drink in quiet bars where the only sounds were from old records scratching on a beat-up jukebox and the delightful giggle of the girls he chose to flirt with
But Bobby, Crowley’s loving husband, offered a solution to his problem in the shape of a near six-foot man with freckles and bow legs. “You’re always coming in here, bragging about your conquests ,” he supplied his reasoning, “figured it wouldn’t be too different -”
“I describe it, Bobby!” Dean yelled, “I don’t re-enact, scene by scene , what went down with a dummy while the crew watches.”
“It wouldn’t be with a dummy,” Bobby explained, “you’d have a partner - lovely girl, really -”
“There’d still be a hell of a lot more people involved than I’m usually comfortable with!”
Bobby fixed him with a bored stare. “You sayin’ you’re scared folks’ll find out Dean Winchester don’t have the skills he boasts can… ‘pay the bills’?”
Dean should have walked away right then. Instead he fell for Bobby’s bait and agreed to perform.
He wasn’t wrong though, Lisa was a lovely girl. Took him through a few breathing exercises, showed which parts he should focus on to bring out the most pleasure, and helped him stretch so when it turned flexible Dean wouldn’t pull a muscle. There were a few nerves, though, especially when he peeked behind the curtain to see a crowded floor.
A half a bottle of Jack Daniels from the bar and a borrowed joint from one of the stage hands and Dean felt almost comfortable enough to go on stage. Unfortunately too much outside help spoiled any satisfaction for the evening. Dean fumbled his way through the motions, but couldn’t make his penis actively participate. It stayed limp throughout the whole act. Which led to him adopting the same face Charlie made to join Lisa in the throes of ecstasy and show everyone that he climaxed alongside her. If only they saw how dry her lips were. Dean’s fingers would have fallen off if not for the amazing preparation Lisa did beforehand.
Dean figured Crowley would kick him out and then divorce Bobby because of his horrible sex. Luckily all his mistakes earned him was laughter and an offer to stay on.
“Seriously?” Dean asked Crowley, stuffing his legs back into his jeans, “After that ?”
“No one does well their first time,” Crowley told him, “A few more nights under the spotlight and you’ll be cumming buckets. Might have to finally invest in that ‘splash zone’ sign…”
“You’re horrible at convincing me to stay.”
“Oh if I was trying you’d know it Dean ,” he purred, fingers trailing down his sweat-soaked chest. Crowley winked at Dean while his touch forced splotchy red flowers to bloom in its wake. “I really don’t have to say much besides it pays well. Bobby mentioned you’re looking for a few extra bucks every week?”
“Damn rent raises…” Dean growled, slumping into a nearby seat. “I do need the money,” he admitted, “but this… I’m still not sure…”
Crowley sighed. “Look, would it make you feel better if I said that I think you have what it takes to be one of the best?”
“Maybe if I knew you meant it.”
“Well consider this your lucky day,” Crowley said, “Because for some strange reason, there’s a small part of me that does.”
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s overshadowed by the overwhelming desire to see you fail on stage some more,” Crowley chuckled, “So the choice is yours. Leave and be haunted forever by your performance tonight or prove me wrong. I’ll even be nice and wait until you sober up.” Crowley left him alone, then, to deal with another actor search for a missing prop
Dean mulled it over for the rest of the night. Before he left Dean stole Crowley away for a moment to agree to star in another show. “To, y’know, show I know what I’m doing…”
“Sure,” Crowley said, clapping him on the shoulder, “you won’t regret this Dean. And I definitely won’t, since you’re saving me from having to audition replacements.”
The next time he was on stage went better than the first. Avoiding every drink and drug that passed his way, Dean had no problem finishing. Except when he did Lisa was nowhere near her own completion. The next twenty minutes had Dean licking and fingering Lisa until the room echoed with her howls and her body spasmed in extreme pleasure.
His reception was warmer, too. Walking backstage, face slick with spit, sweat, and discharge, Dean expected more laughter. Instead the cast clapped and welcomed him with open arms. Providing praise for his work and tips on how to last longer for future acts.
Surprisingly Dean took their notes and applied them for his third show and all others after. What started as a pissing contest, a battleground for Dean to demonstrate his manliness and virility, transformed into something Dean hadn’t expected. Now he thought of his nights in the Crossroads Club the best part of his week, a designation that used to belong to when he cruised dives for an easy hookup. Dean stopped that, hadn’t the need to look for a lay when he was getting it regularly.
It was one of many bad habits Dean corrected thanks to his time as part of Crowley’s show. There were so many personality failings he kicked to the curb that they could start a club. Like Dean’s inability to voice his own desires. Usually he was willing to do whatever his partner wanted and didn’t ask for anything in return. After a very thorough discussion with Lisa and the rest of the cast, Dean realized that sex should produce the maximum amount of pleasure for all parties.
Dean became much more vocal during sex once he understood. He felt less like a prop on stage and more of an active participant, not always being the one who took charge. There was comfort in lying back and allowing someone else - someone he trusted - to rev his engine. And he applied these lessons away from the bed, speaking up when he felt mistreated or misunderstood. It solved problems that would have festered and blown up in his face later on.
His body issues also crumbled away into dust on the wind. While he wasn’t out of shape, Dean saw his soft spots as areas to avoid. Directed searching hands for the more firm parts of his body like his shoulders and kept their gazes locked on his face. Part of the reason he was scared to go on stage the first time was because he didn’t want all those strangers seeing him naked. At least in the dark and slightly tipsy off watered down beers, Dean could pretend those love handles weren’t there.
Now Dean very rarely chose to wear clothes if he didn’t have to. Gone was the Dean who quickly stripped seconds before he was needed on stage and when finished changed back into his outfit, regardless of the stains he’d leave. With newfound confidence Dean started getting naked feet away from Crowley’s club, shucking his shirt while striding towards the backstage entrance. Then he’d lounge nude alongside the other performers until his set, people he could barely glance at when he started because of their own ease with nakedness. Dean joined them in their nudity gleefully. He clothed himself only when he heard last call from the bar. Although he wasn’t opposed to driving home naked.
He’d already done so more than once.
Some weren’t as happy to see Dean being more comfortable with his body, however. Namely his roommate and brother, Sam. Since joining Crowley’s show Sam saw parts of Dean he wasn’t too thrilled to. “You call me the hippie,” Sam muttered, shielding his eyes after stumbling into Dean lounging in their living room, “yet I’m the one with all my clothes on!”
“Better a nudist than a hippie, Sammy,” Dean said, stretching languidly on the couch, “Now close the door, you’re letting in a draft.”
Sam learned to accept Dean’s naked body quickly, though. Especially once his gaze settled on Dean’s face for a full conversation without ducking away every few seconds.
A soft touch pulls him from his thoughts, a rush of warm pleasure coursing through him. Dean smiles, already knowing who’s there. “Cas,” he says, “what’s up?”
“We’re on in five, Dean,” Castiel says, returning Dean’s expression, “are you ready?”
“Then I’ll be waiting at our usual spot.”
Castiel spins on his heel, the beige trench coat he wears fanning behind him like wings. When he first wore it for their performance Dean nearly snickered from the imagery it invoked. But when Castiel flashed his package at him he found it very hard to maintain his erection without creaming all over Castiel’s chest.
Another change from when Dean began his career at the Crossroads Club were in his scene partners. In the three years he worked Dean slept with a handful of people.
Lisa left six months into his residency, following her fiance to Minnesota. Dean thought it meant the end of his career until Crowley called him in on a Saturday morning in late May to introduce him to Benny.
“You do know Benny’s a guy , right?” Dean hissed, looming over Crowley at his desk.
Crowley looked nonplussed, pouring himself a glass of scotch. “I didn’t realize there was any confusion there,” he said, “Especially since we saw his -”
“I know what I saw,” Dean cut him off, blushing, “It was pretty difficult not to…” Benny’s size caught him off guard, Dean walking in on him and Crowley discussing a contract backstage. While Crowley wore his usual sleek, black suit Benny stood nearby in something more natural .
“Are you worried I’m going to replace you?” Crowley asked, “Because I’m not.”
“You expect me to have sex with him then?” Dean struck at the heart of the matter, preferring not to beat around the bush when off stage.
Crowley raised a brow at him. “There’s not much else I expect of you, Dean. Is there a problem?”
“Yes, there’s a…” Dean shifts nervously, lowering his voice again, “yes there’s a problem!”
“I assure you Benny’s a very attractive man, and he’s been doing this for awhile.”
“But he’s a he !”
“Oh Dean,” Crowley sighed, swirling his drink in hand, “I thought you were better than this…”
“It’s not that I have anything against gays,” Dean started, wincing already, “you know how much I love you and Bobby… you’re family. But me I’m… I’m not one of you guys.”
“You don’t have to be, y’know.”
“Uh, pretty sure I do?”
“Not for this,” Crowley rose from his seat, slinking over closer to Dean. “Get your ass into this century and realize I’m not asking you to make love to Benny. You two aren’t going to pass each other notes, go out to dinner, get married and raise a baby you adopted from some overseas nation… It’s sex . Sex isn’t gendered. There’s no binary to an attentive mouth or a tweaked nipple. It’s all about passion, desire… doing what you like and getting off -”
“Sometimes it is,” Dean argued, “I’m not desiring dick or beard burn…” He crossed his arms over his chest, conversation toeing the line into uncomfortable waters. Dean bobs awkwardly in them, unsure how to swim towards safer shores.
“Well then there are either two things you can do.”
Crowley shrugged, “Get over it or get out.” Then he returned to his seat, uncaring to how Dean gaped at him. He dismissed him afterwards, Dean storming over to the bar.
Donnie said nothing and readied a glass of whiskey for Dean to sulk into. Dean appreciated that about the bartender, how he knew exactly what drink he wanted. It was a mystery Donnie kept under his belt like how he looked attractive under these dim lights. No matter how much he pestered Donnie for an answer he would only offer a small smile and a wink in return.
After his third drink Dean felt another body settle into the seat next to him. It was Benny, ordering two glasses of bourbon. He had dressed since last he saw, albeit now only partially nude. Forgoing a shirt, Benny opted instead for some sweat shorts.
Dean snorted. “If you think a drink might help smooth things over…”
Benny glanced wryly at him. “Nah, sugar, these are both for me,” he said, accepting the glasses and downing the first in seconds. Sighing, he pushed the empty over to Donnie and wiped at his mouth. “Smooth like cough syrup…”
Rolling his eyes, Dean returned to his bad mood. Nevertheless he found himself peeking over every now and then at Benny. In their silence Dean noticed the other man’s body, studying in a way he didn’t before. His arms were twice the size of Dean’s, legs like trunks. And even clothed Benny’s penis stood out, the thick outline swaying every now and then as Benny adjusted slightly.
“It won’t bite,” Benny said, startling Dean from his spying, “might be a tad larger than most but it works just like everyone else’s…”
“I know,” Dean huffed, “it’s just a dick.”
“Then why’re you so afraid to touch it?”
Dean choked on his drink, coughing up a storm. Red-faced, he rounded on Benny to find him staring at Dean with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m not,” he managed once recovered, “I’m not scared -”
“You sure turned tail when you spotted it,” Benny continued, sipping at his drink, “What? Never had the pleasure of seeing someone so… gifted ?”
He scoffed, face still tinged pink. “Yeah… you’re not that big, ‘kay? I’ve seen larger…”
“Oh so you’re a size queen ?”
“No, no - what? No .” Dean seized, knocking his drink all over himself. “ Shit .” He snatched a few napkins and dabbed at his pants, jumping when another hand joined him. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you clean up,” Benny said, “Being friendly , since we’re gonna be partners and all.”
“We’re not partners.”
Benny stopped, frowning at Dean. “Funny, I thought I signed a contract today stating we are . Unless that was a fever dream… don’t think it was though.”
Dean’s mouth screwed into a tight line. “No, you… it’s… I got nothing against you, you seem like a chill dude but I’m…” He struggled, the words trapped in his throat.
The other man understood. Benny backed away, nodding. “Ah, I see…”
“Yeah, I’m -”
“You really are scared .”
Glaring, Dean watched Benny finish his drink and amble away with a nod to Donnie. Fighting the urge to chase after him, Dean ultimately lost and hurried after the other man. He dawdled backstage, fiddling with his phone, as if expecting Dean to storm past the curtains.
“I’m not scared.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m not,” Dean insisted, stomping over until he and Benny were chest to chest. “I’m just not gay.”
“Neither am I sugar.”
Startled, Dean nearly stepped away. He recovered and masked his surprise with a bored interest. “Yet you’re willing to have sex with a man?”
“Sex is sex,” Benny told him, “I enjoy the act. It doesn’t matter who with as long as they’re writhing around in pleasure by the time I’m done. And from the stick up your ass I know you need someone like me to come in and help you unwind.”
Dean’s body burned with an unknown fire, scorching his skin and turning each freckle into a smoldering lump of coal. “I’ve been doing pretty fine without dick in my life.”
“Why do I think that’s nothing but shit, sugar?”
He let silence speak for him.
Benny snorts, “Just what I thought.” Knocking shoulders with Dean, Benny walked away. “I’m sure Crowley can find me someone else. Someone who won’t faint at the sight of touchin’ Twizzlers…”
The final blow stoked at something within Dean that made his common sense black out. Something more primal took control, and Dean shucked his shirt while shouting, “Oh yeah! I bet I can last longer than you, buddy.”
Benny waited until Dean’s pants were flung far away before chuckling. “It’s on, sugar. But no one can get me to come unless I’m good and ready.”
“We’ll see about that…”
After wriggling out of his boxers, Benny hauled him up and carried him over towards the nearby couch. Dumping him gracelessly, he trailed his tongue down Dean’s body. Dean bat at his head, whining. “No fair, how am I supposed to do anything?”
“Guess you’ll have to sit back and enjoy then, sugar.”
Dean puffed his cheeks and pouted, refusing to allow the coarse brushing of Benny’s stubble to excite anything within. However his nerves jolted with each rub, making Dean’s dick heavy against Benny’s throat.
The other man kissed around his crotch. “This might be the easiest bet I’ll ever win…”
“Oh shove it.”
“Not without some serious prep work,” Benny smirked, “but I can easily stuff it .” His large hand guided Dean’s stiff dick into his mouth, running his tongue over its head. Dean bit his lip, hands flying from Benny to grip the couch.
Benny pumped Dean’s dick, using his spit to slick his hand. In intervals he would lick with the flat of his tongue and send shivers coursing through Dean’s body. Arms and jaw locked, Dean instead communicated through his legs. Threw them over Benny’s shoulders, flexed his foot when Benny’s teeth scraped delightfully somewhere sensitive, and dug in his heel when a hand fondled his balls.
It wasn’t until that hand left his balls and travelled further south did Dean realize Benny would be a fine replacement for Lisa. She always circled his ass, never allowed her fingers to graze past the imaginary waistband. Benny plunged with no qualms, trailing his fingers along the crack of Dean’s ass so slowly it felt like he tried to strike a match against it.
He came embarrassingly quickly into Benny’s mouth.
Panting, Dean’s head lolled to the side to watch the other man lick his lips clean of Dean’s cum. In his post-coital haze he admitted how the action made his heart stutter. He flatlined when he stood and noticed Benny’s leaking cock staring at him. “Seriously?” he said, “All that and you still didn’t come?”
Benny winked, rolling onto the couch and spreading his legs wide. “Well, sugar, if you’re offering…”
Dean fell to his knees so hard he heard the wood underneath them snap.
Although he didn’t make much progress when seconds into his first blowjob Crowley barged in hollering. “All right, save it for the stage you two!” Crowley ejected them from backstage with barely enough time for them to get their pants on.
Undeterred, Benny jerked a thumb over to a nearby pickup. “It’s got enough room for us to carry on where we left off?”
“You think I’m that type of guy,” Dean scoffed, “willing to do it anywhere?”
“Sugar,” Benny drawled with a dark twinkle in his eye, scuffing Dean’s chin with his knuckle, “you don’t wanna know the type of guy I think you are. Now... are you going to blow me or is that pretty mouth of yours waiting until showtime?”
Dean chose the former, earning a facial for his hard efforts. Staring at himself in the rearview mirror Dean couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling inside. Benny joined, neither willing to clean Dean’s face. When he and Benny filled the truck’s cabin with their hollering Dean fully accepted the change in his routine.
Benny proved to be an amazing partner. Reactive, attentive, and experienced - Benny gave him some memorable orgasms. Like for his first anal, when he ejaculated untouched on stage. He worked Dean’s hole open for forty-five long minutes with fingers and tongue, Dean writhing on the mattress with shallow breaths. Every time he thought he would come Benny paused, squeezed his dick and said, “Not yet, sugar. Don’t spoil the show for the crowd.” When he finally opened his eyes, after Benny discarded his tools for his cock, Dean met over a hundred pairs of eyes.
He tensed, hole closing tight over Benny’s cock. But then Benny pressed himself against Dean’s back and whispered in his heavy accent. Suddenly the nerves faded and in their place was a low pitch of arousal. Dean loosened enough for Benny to pump in and out of him.
Re-adjusting to accommodate Benny’s cock felt strange in a pleasant sort of way. And the longer everyone watched him, enthralled with the act, the harder his own dick became. Near the end Dean, smiling, imagined the bundle of nerves inside his ass like a lump of coal. Benny’s effort transforming it into a shining diamond waiting, wanting to be unearthed. He shot glitter to an uproar, heart pounding in his chest from all the adrenaline.
Assplay opened Dean up to a new world of intimacy, and he thanked Benny profusely with sloppy kisses to his chest and cock. Sex wouldn’t be the same without someone stimulating his prostate - preferably with someone’s genitals doing so.
Even with this new option on his radar he didn’t stop having vaginal sex. In fact he engaged in both ends for intercourse during the act. Benny wanted to include his girlfriend, Andrea, in their show. Crowley didn't have a problem with it and it didn’t take much convincing for Dean to agree to the change. He was shocked to hear Benny had a girlfriend. “Of course, sugar,” Benny said after introducing them, “how do you think I’ve managed to survive all these years. I’d be lost without my cher.”
Dean turned to her, “And you’re okay with…?”
Andrea giggled, leaning into Benny’s embrace. “I understand Benny’s point of view when it comes to sex… and I’m definitely not the jealous type. Although I’ve been feeling a little of it, hearing him come home talking about how amazing you are. I don’t like being left out.” He blushed at the admission, tamping down the gooey pleasure swirling in his gut.
So Dean enjoyed the best of both sexes for awhile, eating Andrea out while her boyfriend wrecked his asshole. The audience loved it.
And then, for two long weeks when Benny and Andrea went on vacation, Crowley hooked him to a demon.
“Where’d you find her?” Dean hissed, Charlie pressing a cotton ball of peroxide to the scratches on his back. “A fucking sadist’s convention?”
“Abby’s enthusiastic ,” Crowley started, rubbing his chin, “you have to appreciate that -”
“I almost blacked out because she wouldn’t stop choking me!”
Crowley sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Let’s just say I owe her a favor and I’m unable to deny her.”
“Shit,” Dean huffed, “is there anything you can do?”
“I can tell her to lay off with the choking,” Crowley said, “ and to remove the acrylics.”
“Thank God,” he shifted in his seat, “nearly made my asshole bleed with how she was circling it.”
Charlie shuddered. “You would’ve been cleaning that wound on your own.”
Benny and Andrea returned and their routine continued for another few months until, ultimately, they were forced to move away. A relative passed and left Benny a diner in his old Louisiana hometown, an opportunity he couldn’t turn down. Saddened by their departure, they gifted Dean with one final round after the stage lights dimmed.
Left alone, Benny popped the cork off Crowley’s parting wine and Andrea rolled a joint. They passed these around like teenagers until an empty bottle and a smoldering stub was left. Then the couple proceeded to bathe Dean in such hedonistic pleasure he couldn’t walk afterwards. Benny’s mouth was glued to his ass while Andrea’s hands pinched and rubbed in each spot that made Dean’s dick jump and harden.
When he woke up the morning after they left only a small note as a goodbye. Dean stared at it until the janitors came and kicked him out. Hurrying to his car, clothes in hand, he thought no one could replace them.
Then Cas showed up.
Crowley approached him a week after Benny and Andrea left, asking for some time alone. “You need a new partner.”
“Watch your mouth boy,” Crowley huffed, “or I’ll tear up your invitation on the spot.”
Interest piqued, Dean settled across from Crowley at his desk. “Invitation? To what?”
“To the auditions of course.”
“For your new partner,” Crowley explained, “figured you’ve been with us so long I might as well throw you a bone every now and then.” He turned his laptop around, showing Dean a quickly thrown together ad asking for new performers. “I was going to send this to my usual contact, wanted to know if you had any preferences.”
Dean read over the paragraph, not finding any fault in it. Blushing, however, he cleared his throat. “Can you, uh… specify that we’re looking for guys ?”
Crowley smirked, sliding the keyboard back under his fingers. “I thought you weren’t into that kind of gay stuff ?”
Scoffing, Dean attempted an air of casualness while slumping into the seat. “It’s like you said. Sex ain’t about gender. It’s passion, desire…”
“Whoever can stuff your face into the pillow the hardest?”
Dean bit his lip; Crowley’s words set off a chain reaction where he imagined his head slammed into the community pillow and a jolt of pleasure rolled through him.
“I’ll let Bobby know you’ll need Wednesday off,” Crowley waved Dean away, “Be prepared, though, to see a lot of penises.”
He figured Crowley exaggerated that last part. However, come early Wednesday morning, there was a line of men waiting outside the Crossroads Club. Dean’s grip on his travelling mug tightened as he passed them, avoiding eye contact.
Crowley waited by a small folding table, a stack of folders and a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Looking over his shoulder, a pleased smile fell across his lips. “So you’ve seen the crop?”
“Is this what you go through every time one of us leaves?” Dean asked, settling down in the chair next to him.
“Unfortunately, yes,” he sighed, handing him the first folder, “now nut up, otherwise we’ll never get through this in time for dinner. And I’ve got a wonderful evening planned for Bobby and I -”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean rolled his eyes, leafing through the documents, “have your servant or whatever bring in the first guy - what am I supposed to be looking for, anyway?”
He motioned to a nearby girl in a black suit to do what Dean said before answering him. “I want you to mark whether or not you find them attractive, then I’ll ask a couple of questions like comfortability, medical history, turn ons… and have them masturbate -”
Crowley raised a brow. “Have them masturbate,” he said, “now dust that rose off your cheeks, you’re a hardened professional.”
Dean cleared his throat, fiddling with the folder. “You really have them masturbate?”
“I need to see their faces when climaxing,” Crowley explained, “and besides, how someone masturbates tells a lot about them. Like Bobby, we both know how direct he is, right? Thinks fooling around too long would throw off his entire day. When he jerks it he doesn’t over do it - grabs a magazine, locks himself in his bathroom for fifteen minutes and is out without going a second over. I could hard boil an egg and use him as a timer.”
“Didn’t need to know that about Bobby…”
“But when we’re in bed,” Crowley sighed wistfully, twirling his pen, “You’d think he’d want the same but he loves it when I give all his erogenous zones too much attention, stretching our time together until he forgets his own name -”
“And here comes our first guy!” Dean said, welcoming the needed change. If Crowley continued he might learn more about his boss than he ever wanted.
If only watching the first man’s attempts at masturbating were any more enjoyable. “Thank you,” Crowley said, shuffling his papers, “we’ll call you.”
“I’m not usually like this,” the man said, meandering off the stage in awkward shame, “if we were alone…”
“And yet you won’t be alone! You’d be on stage, performing for a whole crowd, so thank you for your time,” he cut him off, shooing him away. When he finally left Crowley shook his head. “I swear there’s always a few dimwits who waste my time.”
A waste of time was exactly how Dean described the next few hours. Men shuffled in and out, no one truly standing out positively. A few did leave their scars on his psyche. Like the one guy who could only reach completion by using a blanket or the one who asked them if there were any rules against peeing on stage.
“No watersports!” Dean shouted at his retreating figure. He dropped his head in his hands, whining. “How many duds do we have to go through before finding our stallion?”
“You’d be surprised,” Crowley hummed, tossing the folder into a nearby waste bin, “Although at least we hadn’t many more. Our next one is… oh .”
“Oh?” Dean glanced at him, “Is that good or bad?”
“I don’t know,” Crowley handed Dean the folder, “it’s a favor -”
“Like an ‘Abby’ favor?”
“No,” he told him, “this one’s origins are less sinister. A pornagrapher I’m friends with, his brother was looking for an activity he could do that would boost his confidence.”
“Nothing like sex in front of a bunch of strangers to do that,” Dean snorted, reading the profile. “Castiel? Hell kinda name is that?”
“His brother’s Gabriel - apparently the father was some sort of pastor.”
“Must be very proud of his sons then - one’s a director for porn and the other’s about to jizz himself for us,” Dean scrunches his nose in displeasure, “An accountant? Is he going to pull out a pie chart and jerk to that?”
“Be nice, Dean,” Crowley hushed him, “here he comes now.”
Dean prepared for another disappointment. However the figure stepping under the burning spotlight piqued more than an interest. With sex ruffled hair, striking blue eyes, and a five o’clock shadow blanketing his chisled features, Dean pinched himself to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep and dreamed up such a perfect man.
“Hello?” Castiel started, squinting out at them, “Is this where you want me?”
He shifted in his seat, dick straining from the other man’s voice. A gambling man would bet good money that Castiel smoked a pack a day for ten years to reach such a gravelly baritone. Dean didn’t care about the mechanics, instead wondering what Castiel’s voice sounded like in a whisper against his ear.
“You’re perfect,” Crowley said, “Why don’t you tell us your name, age, and anything you might want us to know.”
Castiel nodded, hands wringing together. “My name is Castiel Shurley. My brother wanted me to mention -”
“Yes, yes, I know about Gabriel, Castiel.”
“Good, good… I’m 33. I, uh, work as an accountant during the day. Clinically speaking I’m clean but I did have a nasty case of gonorrhea after a wild party in college... I live alone, no pets…”
“Bloody hell,” Crowley sighed, “Kinks, Castiel! Tell me if you have any kinks! Or fantasies, or - or whatever!”
“Oh,” he blushed, darting his gaze between them, “Of course. Well I… I guess I have sort of a praise kink. Except I’m the one telling my partner how good they are. And my brother tells me I can be quite rough during sex -”
Crowley’s eyes widened, “Your brother ?”
As if recognizing the tone Castiel immediately switched into panic. “Not like that,” he amended, “I’ve never - he’s seen me have sex, on set. One of his actors cancelled so he needed a last minute replacement.”
Dean choked on a gasp. “You were in a porno?”
Finally sparing Dean more than a few seconds of eye contact, Castiel’s gaze connected with his. A chill ran up his spine as the other man’s face tilted to the side. “Yes,” he told him, “Although I made my brother credit a fake name, and I wore a mask the entire time.”
“What was it you were in?”
“It was the seventh in a series… Casa Erotica?”
Seizing, Dean tipped over his glass of water all across Crowley’s pants. Next to him Crowley cursed him in his Scottish twang. Dean ignored it though, mind too busy trying to restart after crashing from Castiel’s admission.
“Dean you better snap out of it or I’ll -”
“He was the Bandit, Crowley,” Dean said lowly, an excited grin curling his lips, “the Bandit .”
Crowley remained unmoved. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Casa Erotica Seven was named the best in the franchise - even better than the first! Mainly because of the Bandit. An outlaw who broke into this house during a party and seduced the guests into wild sex until the whole place was a massive orgy!” The closing shot was of the Bandit - Castiel - smoking a cigarette while surrounded by the naked bodies of the other actors. That image seared itself in Dean’s mind ever since he saw the movie; deciding it the sexiest thing he’d ever witnissed.
Trailing his stare over Castiel’s rumpled exterior, Crowley looked unconvinced. “Why don’t we skip on over to the main event,” he said, “Castiel, if you’ll masturbate for us?”
“Of course.” Castiel began shedding his suit, laying it out in a neat pile.
Crowley snorted while he folded his tie. “At least he doesn’t have any shame.”
Dean felt a drop of saliva drip down his chin when Castiel unbuttoned his shirt, revealing smooth, tan skin and taut muscles. “Let’s talk about what he does have…”
Castiel stepped out of his boxers and kicked them towards the rest of his clothes. His penis stood at half-mast, a little crooked but nicely shaped.
“Any day now Castiel,” Crowley reminded him.
He looked behind him, frowning. “Standing?”
“...Okay.” Castiel adjusted his stance, spreading his legs out of the military rigidness they were in before into something looser and more relaxed. Knees bent slightly, Castiel’s cock dangled from behind his wiry pubic hair.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, hand reaching up to enclose around his cock.
Dean frowned, leaning closer to Crowley to whisper. “Shouldn’t we get him some lube?”
Crowley hushed him, mesmerized. “Let’s see where he’s going first.”
Castiel slowly jerked his hand up and down his shaft, hardening it. His other hand stayed glued to his chest, thumb rolling over his nipple. He pressed it against the nub and Castiel’s breath hitched, cock bobbing until it practically pointed at Dean.
Letting go, Castiel brought his hand to his mouth. Blue eyes fluttered open in a heated leer, catching Dean’s attention. Castiel’s cheeks puffed out on one side, then the other, before finally he spit all over his palm. Now coated, Castiel returned to stroking himself. The hand on the nipple dipped lower until he reached his balls.
Castiel’s audition proved he didn’t need a partner to put on a show. He told a story with every action, no matter how small. From biting his lip to twisting his fist, the emotions splashed across his face in a way that viewers in the cheap seats could understand the pleasure Castiel experienced.
When Castiel came he did so with a breathy keen. He shot loads onto the stage, foot twitching from the aftershock in a way that caused him to smear it on the hardwood. Finished, Castiel slumped over and gulped lungfuls of air.
Dean did the same. During the performance he blacked out, only coming to now that it was over. The strain of his hard dick was too much for him to bear, and he creamed his pants like a virgin. A very noticeable stain spread across his jeans.
No one was immune to Castiel’s charm, though, since Dean noticed Crowley adjusting his own crotch. “That was quite the… demonstration , Castiel.”
“I can also pleasure myself orally,” he added, “if that helps. I’m very flexible.”
“How soon can you start?” Dean asked, grip tight on the table to keep from jumping up.
Castiel startled, staring once more at Dean. “Really?”
Crowley huffed, smoothing shaky hands down his shirt. “As much as I’d love to drag this process out,” he said, “I’m willing to forgo the theatrics and begin contract negotiations.”
“I’d… I can do that.”
He followed Crowley into his office, Dean stuck behind to let the remaining men on line know the position had been filled. Disappointing people wasn’t what he aimed to do at Crossroads but it served as punishment for his hair-trigger response in front of Castiel. And those still waiting were crushed, not being able to have their fifteen minutes. A few especially aggravated hurled a combination of slurs Dean’s way. They slid off him without leaving a mark.
Because nothing they could yell would dim the fire Castiel lit in his chest. Dean would turn away a hundred men if it meant he could spend nights with Castiel unraveling into the depths of pleasure with only his name on his lips.
If only he knew how life changing sex with Castiel would be.
Their first time they climaxed together the entire club went dark. Only later on did Dean find out the city suffered a major blackout. In that moment, however, Dean believed Castiel shattered all the lights in the building with his intense moans. That the stars he saw raining down behind Castiel were actually shards of glass from the overheads. Except when Dean wobbled backstage there weren’t any cuts on his feet. It’s unexplainable to this day.
While nothing to that degree happened during subsequent performances, the crowd went wild. They fed off the raw, sexual energy Dean and Castiel oozed easily; responding in kind with their own rapt interest. Matching the pitch and energy of their voices. And with this surge in popularity Crowley promoted them - pushing their act towards the end to serve as a grand finale.
Dean should have been able to not screw up this golden ticket. Being himself, though, meant that he took the best thing in his life and tarnished it. Nothing could be as perfect as presented on stage.
He did the most cliche thing and fell for the man he had amazing sex with, twice a night, for the enjoyment of a paying audience.
One of the first things Crowley told him when starting was that he should separate his heart from his work. “The second you see this as anymore than sex the whole act gets ruined. I’ve seen it happen time and time again… I’ve lost so many performers to heartbreak and rejection.”
It had been easy before. Dean’s partners were already committed to loving relationships, and in no way did he want to ruin them. They were his friends and he had been satisfied with that. Except friendship left a sour taste in Dean’s mouth when used to describe his and Castiel’s relationship.
He wanted more than friendship.
Castiel was to blame, really, being completely oblivious to the magnetic force he radiated. His commitment to producing a quality performance was too much. He wore the most serious expression as he tended to Dean’s body, and it was too adorable. Dean nearly broke and cooed at times when Castiel stared down at him with his focused, powerful gaze. Castiel’s vanity was a mess, too - covered in sticky notes and reports from work that he scribbled on while waiting to go on. Once Dean began organizing without thought, shuffling papers while going over the routine for the night. When he realized what he was doing, Dean set the papers down with a blush. Castiel didn’t mind. He smiled and traced a hand down his bicep, saying words Dean can’t recall.
But Dean knew it was bad after Castiel’s brother visited during one show night.
“I met the Gabe Shurley,” Dean told Sam, passing him the joint across the coffee table. Sam accepted it and brought it to his lips, sucking greedily on it. “Like, he revolutionized the porn industry with how he shot Casa Erotica 3. And his follow-up series about the angels - fantastic -”
“I thought you had a hard on for his brother ,” Sam interrupted, smirking.
Dean rolled his eyes, throwing the pillow covering his junk at Sam’s head. His brother caught it and tipped over, collapsing onto the sofa and resting his head on the former projectile. Uncaring that moments ago it had direct contact with Dean’s penis. Luckily for both of them being stoned eased Sam’s discomfort with Dean’s nudity.
“Don’t remind me,” Dean whined, slumping down until his knees knocked into the edge of the table, “you should have seen how cute he looked today when Gabe barged in…”
He was chatting with Charlie and her scene partner, Gilda, when Dean noticed him sneaking through the back. Sighing, Dean excused himself to deal with the gate crasher. It wasn’t the first sneak they needed to deal with. Usually one of the crew would handle it, escorting them out as nicely as possible. Force was a last resort. Only the crew were too busy scrambling to rearrange lighting cues after one of their spotlights decided to short out.
“Hey,” Dean barked, startling the other man. His whiskey-gold eyes took him in, and Dean waited for the once over to end. Once they lingered too long on his crotch Dean cleared his throat and decided to carry on. “Only members of the act are allowed backstage,” he continued, “so if you’re planning on joining us you might want to lose the outfit.”
The man smirked, shifting the lollipop there to the side. “Sorry cowboy, out of the kinks I have exhibitionism isn’t one of them.”
Dean huffed. “You’ve got jokes? Then why don’t you try the comedy club two blocks away -”
“Untwist your panties, tough guy,” the man cut him off, “I didn’t come here to perv. I need my brother’s help with something and he said I should come through here.”
“Gabriel,” Castiel said, striding over to them. Like Dean he was naked, the trench coat absent from his shoulders, “I thought I told you to text me when you arrived.”
Gabriel snorted. “Figured you wouldn’t have your phone handy,” he said, “besides, I was gonna start searching for you if I wasn’t being hassled by the Naked Gun.”
Castiel rolled his eyes, a fond smile breaking past the annoyed expression tightening his features. “Sorry about my brother,” he turned to Dean, “He can be a little abrasive.”
Dean blushed, Gabriel’s outcry fading to the background. He scratched at his neck, aware how flushed his skin must look. “It’s nothin’,” he muttered, “if I knew he was your brother I wouldn’t have given him such a hard time.” Then, unable to think of anything else, Dean lapsed into silence.
They stayed like that, gazes locked in a way that happened more times than most. Dean liked staring into Castiel’s rich, blue eyes. Even if the likelihood his heart would be swept under their depths grew with each moment.
Gabriel threw a life preserver into their moment, coughing loudly. “Cassie,” he said, “are you going to introduce me to your… friend?”
Castiel bit his lip, glancing between the two. “Gabriel this is… this is Dean -”
“ Dean ?” Gabriel gasped, grinning wickedly, “ The Dean? The one you’ve told me about?”
“...Yes.” If he could describe Castiel’s mood it would fall into a category reserved for descriptions like ‘walked five blocks without realizing you stepped in dog shit’ or ‘immediately lost a tooth that’s cavity was filled earlier in the day’.
Gabriel whistled, scanning Dean in a new light. “You didn’t do this poor boy justice, Cassie. I can’t believe you left out how… bowlegged he is.”
Dean bristled, legs twitching at the mention.
Castiel growled, “Gabriel…”
“So,” he raised a brow Dean’s way, “You’re the man my baby bro is bonking it to?”
“What?” Gabriel huffed, “it’s not like you get on stage and play bridge with him!”
The two Shurleys dissolved into bickering, Dean watching the argument unfold. As a bystander, Dean was lumped with the awkwardness that comes from watching siblings fight. The weight sat heavily on his shoulders. He shifted on his feet, hoping they would let up. When it seemed unlikely, Dean butted in.
“Y’know,” he said, drawing their attention, “I’m a real, huge fan of your work…”
Gabriel smirked, darting his gaze towards Castiel. “I’m sure that’s not the only thing you’re a big fan of here - ack !”
Castiel grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, glaring daggers. He shoved his brother towards the door, looking back with a more tender expression on his face and blush stained cheeks. “I’m sorry about my brother, he never recovered from being dropped on his head as an infant.”
Dean shrugged, mind blanking. “I get it… brothers …”
“And then he threw Gabe out the stage door and went right behind him wearing nothing ,” Dean told Sam, “He was so frazzled… I’ve never seen him look like that. Like, in the midst of sex I could be falling apart but he’s cool as fucking stone. Watching him lose control of the situation riled me up something fierce… and not just in my dick.”
Sam hummed, rolling the joint between his fingers. “First of all, gross. If I don’t want to see you have sex then I especially don’t want to hear about it.”
“Bobby comes to my shows,” Dean said, “he’s not weirded out watching me do the sex .”
“Say it like that and I’ll make you put pants on you fucking nudist.”
“What’s the second thing?”
“Second thing? ...Oh, yeah,” Sam remembered, blowing smoke past his lips in a lazy ring, “You should ask that Cas guy out. You’ve got it bad and honestly? I’m tired of hearing about it as much as I am seeing your dick swinging around when you’re dancing to your lame music.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I can’t Sam.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because I can’t ,” he said, “now are you gonna hog that joint or can I get a turn.”
Sam handed it over, snagging the open bag of Doritos on his way back. As his brother munched on the chips Dean smoked and brewed on his stormy feelings.
He wished it was as easy as Sam put it. Except as much as Dean wanted to confess his unprofessional interest in him, the fear that his feelings weren’t returned kept him at bay. If Castiel only wanted to have sex and nothing more Dean wouldn’t be able to continue sleeping with him. It was better if he sat on his feelings and kept his fantasies as such. At least then he could have both his passion and Castiel.
The montage of memories fade to the background as Dean returns to the present. Applause from the nearby crowd tethers him to the moment. He winks at Charlie, “Guess it’s showtime.”
Charlie waves him off, “Break a dick, Winchester!”
He hops over to where Castiel waits, pulse racing. When Dean reaches his side his lips twitch, wishing to break into a manic grin. “Ready, Cas?” he asks.
“As one can be,” he says, mirroring Dean’s expression, “And you?”
“Hot, horny, and ready to party.”
Pamela exits the main stage, skirt swaying in her walk. She brushes past them, a nipple grazing Dean’s elbow. “Tough crowd,” she whispers, “don’t get too distracted.”
Dean’s mouth fell at her warning, similar to Charlie’s. Nerves that lay dormant for so long resurfaced, unsure of what they’re about to face.
But then Castiel slips his hand into Dean’s and squeezes. “Let’s end this on a high note,” he says.
Nodding, Dean squeezes. “Always.”
They hear their names and step into the spotlight. Dean lets go of Castiel’s hand and speeds ahead of him, slinking his way towards the mattress. His arms stretch overhead, Dean glancing behind seductively. When he reaches the edge of the bed Dean stops, spinning on his heel to face Castiel.
Castiel stands an inch away, their lips barely touching. The urge to close the distance rises in his chest. Dean tamps it down, kissing completely off the table. Lips can touch every part of a partner’s body save their opposite. In a show centered around intimacy, the small act of pressing lips together was deemed too far over the line. So instead Dean runs his fingers over the little bow Castiel tied over his trench coat and pulls. His coat falls open and exposes Castiel’s body.
He shoves Dean onto the bed with a growl. Tossing the trench coat to the side, Castiel crawls over him and nips at his collarbone. Dean’s slides one hand into Castiel’s hair and pulls, the other ghosting between his shoulder blades.
“Oh that’s so fuckin’ hot!”
Dean scratches Castiel accidentally, startled by the catcalls. He rolls his neck over to face the audience, squinting past the lights to find the noise. It’s easy as a whistle cuts across the room like an announcement.
The perpetrators were singled out by the crowd - a decent circle enclosing them, giving them more space to sway drunkenly. Two women and one man hold their drinks with limp wrists, the ringleader being the tiny blonde with smokey eyeshadow.
“Skip the foreplay,” she cries, “I wanna see some action already!”
Castiel breathes into the shell of his ear. “Ignore them,” he huffs, “you’re so good for me like this. Like how we always do it. Slow, so agonizingly slow… you’re my good boy aren’t you Dean?”
He nods, “Yeah… always, Cas.”
“Then pay attention to me ,” he tells him, “Good boys don’t get distracted .”
Dean keens, digging his nails into Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel drags his teeth down Dean’s neck and sucks on his nipple. One of Dean’s legs shoots out and he presses his heel against Castiel’s lower back. “Oh I like that, Cas,” he says, “I really like that…”
Their peanut gallery didn’t let up, but Dean tuned them out thanks to Castiel’s careful ministrations. Using his tongue on one nipple and his fingers on the other Castiel played with Dean’s chest like he was tuning an old radio. After finding the right station he moves on to his navel, lapping at the sweat that pooled there.
“You taste sweet,” Castiel murmurs, “you do that just for me?”
“Know how to bring it out in me, Cas…”
Castiel chuckles as he slides his tongue over to the base of his dick. Hands skitter at Dean’s side, drawing patterns with his blunt nails as he kisses the brambles of his pubic hair. They finish drawing and join Castiel below the metaphorical belt.
Tearing away from Dean for a moment, Castiel pumps some lube on his fingers and spreads it without looking. Too busy swallowing Dean’s dick far into the back of his throat.
“If only I had a man like that with no gag reflex!”
Jealousy surges inside of Dean, his body tensing. Castiel pops off, staring at Dean with an odd frown. “Dean,” he says, “are you good?”
“Yeah, I’m good… just -”
“It’s only you and me,” Castiel tells him, “you and me.” With his clean hand Castiel grabs Dean’s ankle and brings it close enough to kiss. Then he places Dean’s foot in front of him and wrapped his lips around the big toe.
If Crowley didn’t remove the mirror last year Dean swears he would have seen his pupils blanket the greens of his eyes. Castiel’s does, the blue barely a ring around the black circle. He stares at Dean while he rolls his tongue around the toe. Popping off with a growl, Castiel smirks.
“What was,” Dean starts, voice hoarse, “what was that for?”
“To ground you,” he says, “and show you what I plan to do to your dick .”
Dean can’t answer. Not only from the rock of pleasure lodged in his throat but because as Castiel spoke his finger crept over and snuck into his hole. Any semblance of thought is stolen as his partner returns to sucking on his dick.
Burning the candle from both ends, Dean hopes his wick lasts long. The danger of snuffing the flame always hovers overhead when he performs with Castiel, the man amazing at his role. It’d suck if he burned too brightly was left with nothing but ash. With Castiel working both ends of him Dean wants the fire to never go out.
“Oh that’s so good, Cas,” Dean slurs, drooling as Castiel adds a second finger to pump inside him. Castiel’s cheeks hollow and a jolt of ecstasy courses up his dick to the rest of his body. Dean’s heart skips a beat, and his legs shoot upwards and hook over Castiel’s shoulders. The hand not working Dean’s hole presses one finger against his taint and tickles his balls. There’s too much for Dean to focus on, can’t pin his attention to any one part for too long, and his head feels like a broken slot machine - handle down and the slots spinning.
But suddenly all three slots stop, unable to match up. “Seriously?” one of the three hecklers from the audiences whines, “I can’t see anything with how they’re set up - hey! Hey move your leg!”
“This is all so fake,” another scoffs, “like being a porn star isn’t attractive. That bottom’s totally overselling it.”
“Well when you look like that I bet you need to go above and beyond.” Their snickering knocks all of Castiel’s praise out of his mind.
Dean feels his high free fall, shot from the sky by their bullet-like words. As he comes to his surroundings there’s a strange sort of emptiness. Castiel’s mouth and hands pulled away, the former gnarled in a serious frown while the latter twitched with fury.
He stood, turning to face the audience. “Do you think you’re funny?” he asks, “That this is some kind of participatory event? Fucking improv?” No one answers him. “Now you can’t speak? Where was this earlier, huh?”
Castiel stomps closer to the stage, a fierce energy hanging around him like if he could Castiel would smite them if given a chance. From how his shoulders hitched up to hide his neck, and the wide stance of his leg. His hand had finally closed in a fist while the other -
Dean couldn’t see it.
It didn’t hang at his side like its pair. Castiel’s elbow dipped and hid his forearm with his body. Why Castiel would do that confuses him. Until Dean notices the steady back-and-forth jerking of his right arm.
His face heats up, realizing what must be going on. Confirmed when Castiel briefly swings out to gesture towards Dean and reveals his leaking cock being tended to by his hand.
“Insulting us won’t make the show any better for you or your fellow audience members,” Castiel continues, thumb pressing against his slit briefly before sliding his palm down to the base once more. “All night you’ve been interrupting our friends and they were kind enough to not say anything. A kindness you seem either too intoxicated or too stupid to appreciate.”
Castiel glances at Dean, lightning crackling behind his eyes. “You don’t deserve to watch something as beautiful as him - as us - if you’re not going to appreciate it.” Ducking his head towards the audience, he growls, “And you should apologize immediately then get out!”
Dean drowns in the applause that follows, his nerves tingling like static. There’s a slight pressure on his hole and he darts his gaze over to find himself pumping a finger in and out of it.
Fingering himself now would be a horrible decision, but Dean can’t deny how watching Castiel defend their sex, defending him , turns him on in a way he’s never experienced. Seeing the other man wild and unchained fills him with astounding passion. Makes every other performance they shared seem like molehills compared to the mountain bursting within Dean. He adds a second finger almost immediately, scissoring his loose hole wider.
As he continues hitting his prostate, dick bouncing against his stomach and head thrown back, Dean enjoys hearing security escort the harassers from the building. Soon enough Castiel’s footsteps register to him.
Dean cracks a hazy eye open, finding Castiel staring down at him with guilt etched into his frown lines. He eases out of himself, wobbling forward to stand.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Castiel starts, hand still on his cock, “it wasn’t very professional, but -”
“Don’t care,” Dean rushes, falling into Castiel and snaking his arms around his neck, “Need you to fuck me .”
He kisses Castiel with so much desire it rocks his body. Dean can taste himself on Castiel’s lips, alongside the refreshing bite of mint and the familiar cotton numbness of weed. Castiel froze for half a beat only to overpower Dean with his own kiss. His hands first went to Dean’s face, cupping it and smashing their faces closer together. Fingers comb his hair and muss it up. Then they trail down to squeeze Dean’s ass.
Taking it as an invitation, Dean lifts one leg and jumps up. Castiel catches him, gripping his thighs while Dean’s ankles hook over one another.
The roar of the audience doubles his already overwhelming levels of ecstasy. He breaks the kiss with a gasp. “Cas,” he pants, “the fuck -”
Continuing their kiss, Castiel walks them to the mattress. Instead of plopping Dean down, Castiel spins and falls so he lays on it, Dean’s legs spread at his sides.
Castiel’s hands move again, one finding his ass cheeks while the other lines his cock with the open hole.
“Got myself all prepped for you,” Dean murmurs between kisses, “like a fucking knight Cas, telling those nasty shitheads off -”
“They didn’t realize how good you were,” Castiel says, “and I can’t stand when someone insults my good boy.”
Dean’s dick seizes, a string of precum hitting Castiel’s stomach. A few more follow as Castiel finds the right angle and cants his hips forward, cock sliding easily within Dean. He hits his prostate immediately and Dean sees a rainbow pillowing Castiel’s head.
Trailing Castiel’s falling hips, he rides the other man with wild abandon. Hands rooted to Castiel’s chest Dean swirls his waist and slams his partner’s cock repeatedly into him. Dean bounces on his cock and a slew of noises eek from his parted lips. Castiel, more intelligible than Dean, repeats the same few phrases over and over to praise Dean for how amazing he’s being.
When Castiel says, “You’re my perfect Dean…” it becomes too much. Dean sobs as the orgasm wrecks him. His body curls with the force of his pleasure being ripped out of him. Halfway through it Dean steals another kiss, sealing his moans in Castiel’s mouth.
Castiel climaxes then, steadily filling Dean with his come.
The world freezes around them. He pulls back and flutters his eyes open. Castiel looks beautiful under him, tanned skin flush and shiny with sweat. He’s completely obliterated by Castiel’s gorgeous features, and realizes how utterly screwed he is.
His heart swallowed his work and there’s no separating the two.
Castiel wakes from the spell and time ticks forward at its usual pace. “That was…” he hums, mouth trembling, “that was…”
Dean nods. “Yeah.”
“We should probably get up.”
He pulls his now limp cock out of Dean with a squelching pop. Dean’s nose wrinkles at the sound, especially when he feels the come dripping from his asshole. “That’s gonna be there awhile…”
Dean swings his legs off and attempts to stand. His knees buckle, and he nearly tumbles off the stage. Luckily he regains his footing with only a slight dizziness. Castiel stands next to him, offering his arm.
Together they face the crowd. Whistling, clapping, hollering - even though Dean and Castiel were finished the adrenaline hadn’t faded from the audience. Shrugging, they bow and wait for the curtain to close on them
Once the heavy red fabric blocks the last of the spotlight the company rushes from the wings and over to join them.
Crowley reaches them first, a manic grin cracking his face in two. “Bloody brilliant,” he breathes, “out of all my years doing this sort of show I’ve never seen an act so spectacular . I’m still rocking a chubby from you two.”
“Really?” Castiel asks, “But the - the hecklers -”
“Should’ve kicked them out after the first shout. Or at least cut them off,” he tells them, “But I’m not regretting it. In fact I’m thinking maybe we should plant someone to mess with you every night if that’s the kind of response you have.”
Castiel’s arm slides out of Dean’s grip, crossing over his chest uncaring at the mess splatter painted there. “If you do I will have no qualms in quitting, Crowley.”
“Kidding, kidding,” Crowley chuckles, “Learn to take a joke there, pal. Now… why don’t you two clean up and unwind. Drinks are on me for the night.” Speaking to the rest of them he says, “ Only for these two .”
Muttered disappointment trails the disgruntled cast as they shuffle backstage to clean up for the night. Dean stays rooted to the floor with come still dripping from his asshole. There’s so much swirling inside of him it takes too long for him to find his voice.
While he searches Castiel shifts at his side. “Tonight was… interesting,” he says, “very passionate, wouldn’t you say?”
Dean stares at Castiel with wide eyes, mouth flapping silently.
“I… I need to deal with this before it dries,” he sighs lamely, gesturing to Dean’s come, “Thank you for dealing with my… zeal ?” Castiel tries to smile only it comes off too much like a pained wince. He winks and slaps Dean’s shoulder good naturedly, stalking away and out of sight.
“I really liked it,” Dean finally says to no one. Shoulders slumping, he heads over to his own vanity to plan a swift retreat.
Quickly he plucks a wipe from the box on the nearby surface and cleans away as much of the come as possible. Satisfied with feel Dean tosses the used wipe into the bin and slips into his shorts. He grabs another wipe and erases the makeup on his face.
Pulling his hoodie overhead, Dean pauses to stare at his reflection.
His skin burns red, remembering the fire crackling underneath it from when their lips brushed together. Fingers ghost over the plump skin as if to recall the touch. When he swirls his tongue around Dean can taste Castiel in his system, his pupils still round and wide.
It’s a high Dean never wants to fade.
Making a decision, he strides across the backstage before doubt and anxiety can convince him to sneak a bottle from Donnie and hide out in his car.
Castiel sits with only his slacks on, unbuttoned, and a sock in hand. He seemed lost in thought with a fog settling over his gaze.
Dean clears his throat, drawing him into the present. He cranes his neck up to see who stood in front of him. Noticing Dean, Castiel’s cheeks flush and he drops his sock.
“Dean,” Castiel starts, frowning, “is there - what’s wrong?”
“We need to talk.”
Sighing, Castiel hunches in on himself. “Yes, I figured you’d want to.”
Chewing on his bottom lip, Dean thinks over what he wants to say. “About tonight -”
Castiel cuts him off. “If I overstepped I truly am sorry,” he tells Dean, wringing his hands over and over, “those jerks were being so rude, and I tried to ignore them. But when they insulted you I… something pushed me to act. Partly because what they said was wrong and hurtful and untrue. Mostly, though, because I… I care deeply about our partnership.”
Dean’s jaw drops. “...What?”
“No, that doesn’t,” Castiel tugs at his hair, frowning, “it’s close to what I want to say but… Dean, I find our time together on stage special . I value it very deeply and hearing those drunks disrespect you felt personal and I went into a rage.” He chuckles darkly. “I’ve been warned about my temper… and I’m ashamed I flew off the handle like that in front of all those people - and you . How you continued the show only speaks to your professionalism -”
“It wasn’t professionalism, Cas,” Dean blurts out, “seeing you chew those fuckers out was sexy .”
Castiel stiffens, gaping at Dean. “It was?”
Nodding, Dean kneels and grabs Castiel’s hands. “You’re not the only one who’s been… unprofessional. I feel the same about our act, like it’s… it’s more than work to me. When I go out there it’s not because of the sex or the attention, the reason I do this now is because I’m doing it with you. You’ve ruined me and I couldn’t be happier.”
“Yeah, like I want to still fuck you but I also want to do non-fucky things with you. Watch movies, eat dinners, talk… all that stuff.”
Smiling, Castiel squeezes Dean’s hand. “It sounds like you want to date me, Dean.”
Dean mirrors his expression. “Sure does, Cas.” Pushing through his nerves, he asks. “Does that sound like the kind of thing you want to do, too?”
Castiel laughs. “If we did we’d be doing this all backwards. I mean we’ve been having sex for so long …”
“Then I guess this means we have a lot of catching up to do,” Dean says, “Like maybe… we can have our first date now?”
“You’re not tired from me fucking you six ways to Sunday?”
“You kidding?” he huffs, “More hungry than anything. Could go for a burger or two -”
“Burgers?” Castiel’s eyes light up, “You’re speaking to my soul.”
Dean stands, a bounce in his step. “Then we’ll get burgers. We’ll get burgers and fries and shakes and the whole nine yards.”
Castiel sighs. “I’d like that.”
“So do I.” Dean steps away, jerking his thumb backwards. “I’m gonna go grab my stuff and wait by my car… y’know which one it is?”
“The really polished black muscle car?”
“She’s a real beauty isn’t she?”
“She must get it from her owner…”
Dean blushes, stuffing his hands in his hoodies and then letting them hang at his sides a beat later. “Yeah… yeah, so I’ll -”
“I need to get dressed too, Dean,” Castiel picks up his sock, mirth dancing in his gaze, “ go . I’ll meet you.”
“Right… right…” Dean can’t leave yet though, as he surges forward and drops a kiss on Castiel’s lips. Castiel’s face fits in Dean’s hands so well that he doesn’t want to let go. But he does, leaping away.
Dean licks his lips and giggles deliriously. “That was… yeah, now I’m gonna…”
Castiel shoos him, laughing. “Go! Otherwise that’ll be the last kiss you’ll get tonight.”
Not taking the threat lightly, Dean spins on his heel over towards his vanity. He ignores the pointed stares from the stragglers who watched their confessions, especially Charlie’s.
She waits for him in her seat, perched devilishly with a fist to her chin and a toothy grin. “Well,” Charlie starts, “today really is full of surprises. Should I alert the pastor and break out the white gown?”
“Can it Charles,” Dean says, slinging his bag over his shoulder and shoving his feet into flip-flops, “I’ve got a date.”
“I heard,” she sighs, sobering slightly, “I’m really happy for you, y’know.”
Dean pauses, reflecting catching his eye once more. His face strains from the strength of his smile, and the rosiness of his cheeks brings out the freckles painted there. Green eyes sparkle with a light that had never blessed Dean’s meadows.
“I’m happy, too,” he whispers, “I really am.”