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cloudy_versesTitle: hardcorewings.com, Part 2
Author: CloudyJenn
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Warnings: extreme wingkink
Summary: When Castiel loses his job, he resorts to making wing fetish videos to make cash. Dean really likes them.
Author's Notes: This is the so-called wingkink!verse.
"A hot date?" Sarah asks, one eyebrow raised. "With Mr. Right Hand?"
That girl knows him too well. Dean hadn't realized how much he dated around until he abruptly stopped and all his friends began commenting on it. It's not like Dean never wants to go out again. And yes, he's got a really pathetic crush on an internet porn star, but he'd have that anyway. Really, Dean has no idea why he's not been dating. Just the idea of going through all the trouble to score a hookup only to face the inevitable avoidance exhausts Dean. It's not worth it anymore.
"Don't make it sound so cheap, Sarah," Dean says. "It's love this time. I mean it."
"I'm sure you'll be very happy," she deadpans as she shelves another volume about frogs. Some biology class must have just had a research paper. The thought depresses Dean. He's got a term paper languishing on his laptop. To think his life has come to this. No sex and constant studying. If he wasn't so certain he hated the idea of the same dead-end garage job and crappy apartment his whole life, Dean would have lost his mind by now.
"Are you okay?" Sarah asks.
"Yeah." Dean frowns. "Why?"
"You had a really intense look on your face," she says, turning to lean against the nearby table. "You looked like you were having an epiphany."
"No, I just..."
Except she is right. Three years ago, Dean realized that his shitty job and boring life weren't worth it. So with Sam's help, he enrolled in college and now he's almost all the way through a nursing degree. It's possible he might have just realized that cheap hookups were just as worthless as his previous existence.
"Huh," Dean says.
"What?"
"I should probably date."
Sarah's expression turns bewildered. "What are you talking about?"
"Like...dating. Actual dating," Dean says slowly, as if uncovering an utterly brilliant and new thought. Why hadn't he ever thought of this before? Having a real relationship. With regular sex and doing shit together and sleeping in the same bed. The more he thinks about it, the more excited he grows. All those stupid meaningless hookups were fun at the time, but Dean wants more.
He had no idea.
"Oh." Sarah grins and actually claps her hands. "Dean, that's brilliant! Do you have anyone in mind?"
Of course, the first person who comes to mind is Silver. Dean shakes his head. That's a fantasy. He needs someone real.
"I don't know anyone worthwhile," he confesses.
"Hmmm, well. What are you looking for? You're bi, right?"
Dean shrugs. "Not really, but kind of?"
He gets another bewildered expression.
"A guy," Dean says. "I want a guy."
"Wait, hold on."
Sarah goes to grab a notebook and orders to Dean to finish their shelving while she makes notes on his perfect man. The only problem being that Dean doesn't know what that is. Personality-wise anyway. So he ends up describing physical characteristics and by the time he's done, Sarah's grin has turned almost fiendish.
"You're a winger," she accuses lightly.
No sense denying it.
"Yeah."
"Well, it just so happens that I know an angel," Sarah says excitedly. "And he's single! Are you interested?"
"How should I know?" Dean says, even though his spine tingles with a familiar anticipation.
God, wings are so fucking hot.
"He's really handsome and funny and he's got these sort of sandy-colored wings," she describes. "His name is Balthazar. He lives in my building. So, can I set you up? Please?"
Sandy-colored. Not silver. Dean sighs. Never going to be silver, he tells himself. No one has silver wings like that. Not in real life.
Still, he has a feeling he's going to regret this.
"Uh, sure, I guess."
****************
"What's the matter with you?"
Dean's been pacing around the living room for about fifteen minutes now while Sam cooks in the kitchen. It might not have made such an impression, but Dean's been so relaxed lately since he became obsessed with his internet angel.
"Sarah's setting me up with some guy," Dean mutters.
Surprise and relief mix in Sam's mind. He had been starting to worry that Dean had given up on dating altogether.
"That's good, right?"
Dean shrugs. "I guess. He's an angel."
That fact was not a surprise. Sam shakes his head fondly. He might tease Dean about his wing fetish and maybe he doesn't get the angel obsession, but angels are just like humans when it comes to dating. Their ideas about the world make no sense to Sam and it's hard to imagine Dean having anything in common with one, but Sam's seen stranger pairings. If nothing else, maybe dating an angel will erase the mystery about it and Dean will get over his obsession.
"You like angels," Sam says encouragingly.
"I did. I mean, I do," Dean blurts, pacing anew. "I haven't really been looking around. I mean, I think I might have been ruined on the whole angel thing."
Sam rolls his eyes.
"If you're talking about that stupid Silver person, someone told me today that he was a frigid prude, so maybe you're not missing anything."
The rush of emotions across Dean's face is comical. Indignation followed by anger that quickly melts into confusion and then suspicion.
"Who told you that?"
"You remember that guy Chuck that used to hang around when I was still in undergraduate? Short, scruffy kinda annoying guy?"
Irritation catches at Dean's eyes.
"That guy? How the fuck does he know anything about it?"
Now that Sam's telling Dean, he doesn't feel nearly so triumphant. In fact, he feels like an ass for talking about Dean's private matters, even with a friend. But if he hadn't been such a jerk that morning! Sam takes a deep breath to calm himself. He wouldn't be feeling so crappy if Dean weren't freaking out about the first potential date he's mentioned in weeks.
"That website is headquartered here in Lawrence."
Dean's eyes widen and he freezes in place.
"Here?" he says, almost a whisper.
"Apparently. Chuck works for them. Fluffing wings or something. He said that guy, Silver...well, his name is Castiel, I guess. Anyway, he said he's really uptight, so you're not missing anything."
The indignation returns and Sam expects a full rant about the wonders of Silver Castiel, but what Dean says is totally different.
"Are you telling me that annoying little shit has touched Silver's wings?"
Dear god.
"Castiel, Dean. And yes, Chuck has thoroughly fondled those wings," he says nastily, annoyed and worried over Dean's persistent crush. The dark scowl Dean throws his way doesn't make Sam feel any better. "It's his job."
The discontent on Dean's face abruptly falls away as a smile Sam does not like or trust grows on Dean's lips.
"Are they hiring?"
"Oh god," Sam groans.
*************
The thing is, Dean's not sure what he should do. Knowing that Silver...no, Castiel and isn't that name just perfect for him? Weird and kinda old-fashioned. That's what Castiel is. Not frigid. He's just...elegant.
Yes, even though he disrobes online.
But the knowledge that Castiel lives in the area crawls under Dean's skin and won't leave him alone. He's so close. The potential is so close. Dean could see him in the flesh. Breathe in his scent and feel his body heat soaking into his skin. Touch those fucking gorgeous wings.
The thought of it sends Dean into a long heated fantasy that usually involves Dean coming on Castiel's wings and tucking him into his side in bed.
Still, Dean isn’t so crazy that he doesn’t see how creepy it would be for him to track Castiel down. Although it would be simple. Castiel is not a common name. Dean doesn't even need a last name to know he'd be able to find him. But who in the world would want a scary stalker that hunts you down after watching hours of footage of you jerking off?
Dean doesn't want to frighten Castiel. He doesn't just want to fuck him. Although yes, he very much wants to do that. But there's more to it. Dean wants to hear his voice, speaking actual words instead of breathless moaning. He wants to know why Castiel took this job. Whether he likes it as much as Dean suspects he does. What the rest of his life is like.
Just anything.
The last thing Dean wants is to ruin that chance.
Plus, there's the date with Balthazar. He now really regrets telling Sarah she could set them up, but he doesn't want to back out. Not because of Balthazar. He could care less about him. But he doesn't want to disappoint Sarah after she went to the trouble.
So, after thinking it over for about thirty minutes in the shower, Dean decides he'll go on the date, tell Balthazar no thanks and then figure out Castiel.
Which is why he finds himself standing in the foyer of a too-expensive restaurant dressed in an outfit that's getting him strange looks from the staff. Apparently, this isn't a flannel kind of establishment.
"Um, I'm meeting a guy here? Balthazar?"
The hostess' tight smile eases slightly at his words.
"Oh, of course, sir. Mr. Steele is waiting for you," she says, gesturing for Dean to follow her.
Balthazar Steele? Dean makes a face. The atmosphere of this place makes him uncomfortable and the fact that hostess clearly knows Balthazar doesn't earn him any points. There are candles on the table, for pity's sake.
She leads him to a quiet private table near the back of the room. Waiting for him is a somewhat attractive fair-haired angel with medium length tan colored wings.
Nothing to write home about.
His eyes flick over Dean's body, all to clinical. He's being sized up and judging by the flare of disappointment in Balthazar's eyes, he's not anymore impressed than Dean. Which makes this easier actually, for all that it makes Dean want to puff out his chest and tell him to fuck off.
"Let me guess," Balthazar says, his voice smooth and touched by some kind of accent. "Sarah heard all about how you like angels and thought we'd just be perfect."
Dean falls into his seat and grabs a bread stick from a basket on the table.
"Yeah," he says with a snort.
"Sarah's a sweet lovely girl, but she's quite clueless," Balthazar says lightly.
Dean thinks he hears another message in there. He sips his glass of water and gives Balthazar a raised eyebrow.
"So if you like her, why are you here with me?"
"If you're in love with another angel, why are you here?" Balthazar shoots back.
"I'm not," Dean says, lip curling and that's the truth. Interested, yes, but Dean has no idea what Castiel is really like.
"Either way, I saw your expression when you looked at my wings," Balthazar says with a smile. He doesn't sound upset, but rather amused. "Not the wings you were hoping for."
"Shut up. At least I'm closer than you. At least I'm with the right gender," Dean grumbles.
"Whatever Sarah sends me, I'm willing to take," he says pleasantly.
"Why?"
"Because soon enough she'll understand why she's so determined to find me a partner."
Dean frowns. "That's messed up."
"Who's your angel?" Balthazar asks, turning the tables back on Dean.
He considers not answering. If Balthazar lives on Earth, he might have visited hardcorewings and Dean's not exactly eager to share with a total stranger his crush on an internet porn star. Then again, he doesn't have to say how he knows Castiel. And the angels come from a close-knit community. He might know some stuff about Castiel.
Glancing up at Balthazar's neutral expression, Dean decides to take the risk.
"His name is Castiel."
"Oh! I knew a Castiel once, years ago in school. Scrawny chap. Dark hair, blue eyes, absolutely obscene silver wings?"
While he's not sure about the 'scrawny' part now, it's possible Castiel was a skinny kid. Angelet. Whatever the hell they're called. The rest sounds like him.
"Yeah, that's him."
"Oh dear, you have your work cut out for you," Balthazar says, leaning down to rest his chin on one hand. "When I knew Castiel, he was fond of what we in Heaven call the wing shield."
"What the hell is that?"
"Hiding behind your wings," Balthazar explains. "By any standard, Castiel wasn't weak, but he was very reserved. He didn't like a lot of attention."
Dean stares. Could this really be the same man? The one who sprawls across that couch and touches himself with wanton abandon? That's hardly what Dean calls reserved and yet, here's another person telling him it's true. A person who actually knew Castiel for several years at least. His curiosity burns ever hotter.
"That's, um..."
Balthazar smiles at Dean's inability to respond. "Don't worry, love. Just be careful and do whatever the hell he wants and he'll be yours."
"Right. Thanks," Dean says with a slight eye roll. "Look, I'm just gonna get out of here."
Without waiting for Balthazar's answer, he stands and turns to go. But before he can, Dean pauses and glances back at Balthazar.
"Sarah likes a grand gesture. Maybe you shouldn't be careful," he advises.
He really hopes Sarah actually likes Balthazar. If not, he'll make a grand gesture of his own. Either way, Dean's got other things to worry about.
Like getting a new job.
**************
When Dean sees the pay rate, he decides that there are two very good reasons to be working at hardcorewings. His last job’s pay is nothing compared to what he'll be making here. It's a wrench to give up the library, but even if Dean only works the porn job for the rest of the semester, he'll be set for a year. Maybe that's the reason Castiel works here.
The interview goes well, all things considered. No one asks him if he's got a crazy wing fetish, but they do mention there'll be a background check, so Dean assumes they're looking for any weird wing-stalking incidents. Given the way his new boss leers at the talent, Dean thinks maybe it's not a problem anyway. So long as he doesn't bother anyone. Which he won't. He's not here to bug Castiel. He just wants to get to know him.
The only awkward moment comes when Dean ends up in the break room with Chuck on his first day. That's when he abruptly remembers that Sam told him about his crush on Castiel. Luckily, Chuck doesn't seem to recognize him. He just nods a greeting and gets back to sucking down an unhealthy amount of coffee. The red eyes and slight unpleasant odor wafting off him suggests a hangover. Come to think of it, Dean isn't sure Chuck ever met Dean while he was sober. He's not surprised the guy doesn't remember him.
Whatever. It saves Dean the trouble of bullying Chuck into silence.
Unfortunately, the rest of his day is rather boring. It's mostly a string of introductions and training. The job's not hard. Dean is responsible for keeping the various filming rooms cleaned up after the angels are done and for preparing the actors for their shows. It's not Chuck, but rather another fluffer named Pam who gives Dean a lesson in basic wing care on a bored looking angel named Lynn.
Castiel really has ruined him for other angels. Lynn's wings are a pretty bright white, but Dean doesn't feel anything other than determination to get her feathers all going in the same direction when he touches them. Pam explains to him that porn is a lot less interesting when you're the one who gets to fill up the lube pots and wash the sticky laundry.
"So if you're here for the sexy excitement, you've chosen the wrong career path, sugar," she says with a wink.
Dean chuckles. Easy flirting is just what he needs to keep his pulse calm.
"I don't need all that much help finding sexy excitement," he says back, even though it's apparently a lie.
"Oh I bet you don't." She gives him one long appraising look and makes a humming noise in the back of her throat. "Too bad you don't have wings. You'd be a hot commodity around here. No, not that way," she says, abruptly breaking from teasing to teaching. "The feathers along the edge should be puffed up. The wingers think it's hot."
"It is hot," Lynn comments, yawning. "To angels. Ya done yet? I got a show in five."
Huh. So porn really is boring if you're making it. Dean finishes the look, feeling rather proud of himself and watches Lynn trudge off to her next performance. When he glances back, Pam is giving him a thoughtful look.
"You're a natural," she says and then a grin breaks out. "You did come here to find sexy entertainment."
Dean does not blush and Pam does not stop laughing.
There's no sign of Castiel that day. Dean doesn't dare ask about him. The guy must have a day off now and again and besides, Dean wants to know the lay of the land before he meets Castiel face to face. He'd hate to meet him only to give him a really bad wingjob.
On the afternoon of his third day, while Dean is trying to decide which cleaner will get that stain out of the black armchair in Room 4, Pam suddenly appears in the door with an aggravated look on her face.
"Hey, Dean, ya busy?"
"Not unless you count a jizz mark an emergency," he says with a shrug.
"I don't. Come here," she orders, jerking her head with a nod down the hall. "I gotta take care of Lucifer right now." The way she says this gives Dean the impression that this Lucifer is a handful. "I need you to fluff Castiel."
Dean's heart leaps into his throat.
"Um, what?" he says stupidly.
"Sorry, I know you're mostly assigned to Lynn and Garel, but Chuck's 'sick'. I assume that means he's laying in a puddle of vomit somewhere," she says. Once she notices that Dean's stopped, she grabs his wrist and tugs him down the hallway. "Castiel is easy. He won't fuss, but it'll take forever. His wings are huge. Be careful with them or Crowley will have your head, okay?"
Dean can't think or talk, can't even nod. His pulse now races under his skin and he feels shaky, like he might lose the ability to stand soon. He stares at the door Pam has dragged him to and thinks to himself, Castiel is behind that door
"Dean?"
"Uh, yeah," he finally mutters. "Sure."
"Great. Good luck."
Dean curls his fingers around the brass handle and with a deep cleansing breath, he opens the door.
*************
Castiel is in a foul mood.
He spent the previous evening staying up too late working on a term paper he thought he'd finished until the professor abruptly changed the assignment on him. Gabriel then ruined what little sleep he managed to get by showing up in the middle of the night, drunken and giggling with his latest conquest. Even worse, when Castiel opened his bedroom door to yell at them, he discovered it was Jo the receptionist. Which makes the atmosphere strained when Castiel shows up for work that day. At least awkward for him. Jo just shrugs at him and seems to pretend he didn't seen her shirtless and gyrating in his brother's lap.
So he is tired and embarrassed. Never a good state to be in when you orgasm for a living.
But the real problem isn't the fatigue or the awkwardness.
It's that he hasn't seen Dean in almost two weeks. He tried so hard to stay away to save himself the pain, but it'd been a stressful week and Castiel just wanted one glance. One little glance to make himself feel better, but Dean wasn't there. Ever since Castiel started visiting the library to see him, Dean has kept the same schedule. Monday through Thursday from 3 PM until close and Sundays from 8AM to 4PM. That first time Dean didn't show, Castiel assumed he was out sick. He went by the second day to discover Dean still wasn't there. By the third day, Castiel began to worry Dean was seriously ill. When the new human showed up on the fourth day, Castiel couldn't stop himself from asking after Dean at the front desk.
"Dean Winchester? Oh, I'm sorry. He no longer works here."
As Castiel sits in his chair at work, stewing and glaring into his cup of coffee, he still feels the pulse of dismay he felt when he heard those words. Even finally learning Dean's last name doesn't make Castiel feel better. Sure, he could find Dean now, but there's a difference between haunting someone's workplace and tracking them down.
Right?
He doesn't know. It's all so confusing. His feelings for Dean can't possibly be as significant as they seem.
Maybe Dean being gone from his job is not a bad thing. Maybe it will force Castiel to forget him once and for all.
The door opens and Pam sticks her head in.
"Hey, Castiel, Chuck's out sick. You okay with the new guy fluffing you? Swear he's a cool guy," she says in a rush.
Lucifer must be throwing another fit.
"Yes, that's fine," Castiel says. It doesn't matter very much to him who touches his wings anymore. He's beginning to wonder if these fluffers are the only people who'll ever touch them again.
Stop being morose, Castiel scolds himself.
Oh well. No matter his mood, he needs to get ready for work. Dragging himself up from the chair, Castiel begins undressing. When he first started working at HCW, Castiel felt uncomfortable undressing in front of any live person. But he soon learned that taking his clothes off after a good fluffing just messes up his wings again. Besides, if he can be naked and hard in front of thousands of strangers, then one fluffer is hardly worth being upset over.
Once he's naked, Castiel stretches for a few moments, mostly to work out the kinks in his muscles from his unsatisfying night of sleep. He opens his right wing fully and groans lightly. Those muscles are overworked. Letting it drop, he then lifts the left wing for the same treatment.
It's when both wings are extended that the door opens again and Castiel hears a sharp intake of breath from behind him.
"Holy shit," the new voice says breathlessly.
Castiel closes his wings around his body and with a blush staining his cheeks, he turns, thinking to himself that he must be making a terrible first impression by displaying himself like that.
"Oh, I'm..."
His wings stiffen with shock. It's Dean. The man in the doorway staring hungrily at his wings is Dean Winchester. The absurdity of seeing Dean in this place, as if Castiel conjured him by the strength of his longing, throws Castiel's logic out of the window. He has absolutely no idea why Dean is here.
"Hey, sorry," Dean says, his perfect gruff voice even more utterly distracting when it's addressing him directly, "I didn't mean...I should have knocked. I didn't you'd be..."
His eyes flick down Castiel's naked body, lingering for a brief instant on Castiel's cock. The glance feels heavy, like a physical caress and it draws Castiel towards the beginning of an erection.
"Sorry," he says again. "I'm Dean. They said I should, uh...I should fluff your wings?"
Understanding slams into Castiel's mind. Oh god. Dean Winchester is his new fluffer.
Oh god.
************
This is such a horrible horrible idea. Dean's already so hard, he can barely walk and that's just from that fucking display he got when he walked into this room. Castiel's giant sloping wings risen in graceful arcs on either side of his naked body, the sensitive skin around his wing-joints fully exposed to Dean and an up close look at the perfect ass Dean's been daydreaming about for weeks now.
He's being so unprofessional, but he can't help himself. Castiel has him completely transfixed. Dean doesn't think he could leave now if he tried.
"My wings?" Castiel says weakly.
Hearing his voice does nothing to calm Dean's disobedient libido. It's just like his unreserved moaning, rough and deep and dragging along Dean's skin just as if Castiel were touching him.
"Uh, yeah. I'm supposed to make them all pretty. Not that you need it. I mean, not that they aren't already really gorgeous," Dean stammers foolishly. "Just you need them arranged for the show and I'm here to do it."
If Castiel minds his babbling, he doesn't show it. In fact, he's having trouble looking Dean in the eye. He wonders if this the famous timidity showing itself. There's nothing wrong with that. Who wouldn't be a little wary about being naked in front of a total stranger, right? Sam is crazy. Castiel isn't frigid. He's just shy.
"Is that okay?" Dean asks softly.
"Oh oh, yes, of course," Castiel says, abruptly springing into action.
He turns away from Dean, giving him another excuse to glance at his ass. Still a mistake, Dean thinks as his dick pulses against his pants. His only hope is that Castiel is too distracted by getting ready to notice the obvious bulge. He watches Castiel settle himself in the room's only chair. To Dean's surprise, Castiel's wings are fluttering wildly. A little nerves about a new fluffer shouldn't be causing this flurry of anxiety.
"I'm not making you nervous, am I?" Dean has to ask.
"No!" Castiel nearly shouts and then grabs fistfuls of wing, obviously to steady himself. "It's fine," he says more quietly. "You can start now."
The signals are confusing, but Dean has to trust that Castiel would tell him to get out if he was making him uncomfortable. He's got a job to do and so does Castiel. Dean can be professional. He can.
Even when faced with the reality of running his fingers through long silvery feathers.
God, his dick is aching.
Dean presses the heel of his palm hard against his groin to ease a bit of tension before approaching Castiel's side and grabbing the tube of wingcare product. He gives Castiel a reassuring smile and then steps around to his back, once more hiding from Castiel's view. Thankfully. As he assesses the state of Castiel's wings, Dean wonders if he should make small talk. Or if he even can make small talk. He's afraid he'll get halfway through a sentence and then break off into a moan at the feel of strong wing muscles flexing under his hands.
His cock twitches again and Dean bites his lower lip.
Right. No talking.
The wings are a little messy and the constant motion they're in isn't helping matter. Dean doesn't even know where to start. A few stray feathers at the bottom need plucking and the middle is in need of flattening. The top ridges are wild and fluffed up already though, which Dean finds curious. As if Castiel were already aroused. Still, it should make his job go faster.
"Are they alright?" Castiel asks quietly.
God, yes.
"Yeah, it's fine. Just trying to make a plan," Dean mutters vaguely.
There's nothing else for it. He's just going to have to dive in.
Dean reaches out and slowly draws the back of one hand down a thrashing silver mass.
Castiel lets out a short gasp and curls his fingers around the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles turn white. The wings themselves stiffen once before relaxing and Dean nearly comes in his pants. The way they're moving is so similar to the videos, so exactly like a turned-on angel that all Dean's thoughts fall out of his brain and he finds himself gathering massive fistfuls of feathers into both hands, squeezing them between his fingers. Castiel's gasp turns a mewling noise and he squirms in his seat.
"Dean," he pants, effectively bringing Dean back to his senses.
"Sorry!" He lets go of the wings and steps back, appalled at himself. "God, I'm so sorry."
"No," Castiel breathes, leaning his elbows on his knees and shaking his head. "It's okay. Please don't stop."
There's no way Dean can refuse him, but he makes himself swear he'll be more professional. To that end, Dean immediately pours a dollop of wingcare product into his hands and begins rubbing it into Castiel's wings. There's nothing sexy about the sticky substance that will eventually soak into the wings as if it never existed, but feels at first like a cross between lube and shampoo. Whatever's bothering Castiel seems to dissipate. His breathing returns to normal as Dean carefully flattens the wings and then kneels down to pluck out the errant strays at the bottom.
The problem starts again when Dean stands to style the top ridges.
The feathers along his arches don't need any product. They're already puffier than Dean's ever seen them. All they need is a little encouragement to go in the right direction and Castiel will be set. And then Dean can escape this delightful torture.
When he runs his palm over the left arch, the wings flare straight out so suddenly and so forcefully that they knock over a nearby table.
"Are you okay?" Dean asks, surprised and not a little turned on by the obvious strength of the wings.
"I...no," Castiel rasps.
Dean steps around the slowly lowering right wing to get a good look at Castiel's face, fearful of anger or irritation.
That's not what he sees. Castiel's cheeks are reddened, his eyes glazed and lower lip swollen from biting. Dean's eyes wander from Castiel's flushed face down his heaving chest to the erection he'd been trying to hide. His lips part with surprise. Dean's seen this before. He knows exactly what Castiel looks like when he comes and he's not far from it.
"Oh," he says stupidly.
"I think I'm ready now," Castiel whispers.
"Oh. O-okay," Dean stutters. "I'll just..." He points his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll let you get to it?"
But Castiel's hand shoots out and grabs Dean's wrist, holding him from his escape.
"No, please. I want...I want you to watch."
Holy fuck.
************
The tips of Castiel's wings knot together as he stumbles across the room to set up his afternoon shoot. Dean's hot gaze follows his every step, but Castiel doesn't dare look back at him. Not yet. He's already too close. One brief touch along his dick right now and Castiel knows he'd come all over himself.
Dear god, the way Dean touched him. No one had ever touched him like that before. With such possessiveness, such obvious command. When he gripped Castiel's feathers so tightly in both hands, Castiel thought he'd black out from the pleasure.
It doesn't seem possible. Castiel feels certain he must have gone crazy and conjured up this wonderful dream of Dean being here. Being here and being just as affected by that wing grooming as Castiel was. That Dean even knew how to touch Castiel in exactly the right way, like another angel would know. It was all too perfect and when Dean mentioned leaving, Castiel couldn't let go. Not before getting the chance to see if maybe all this might actually be real.
He sneaks a glance over his shoulder. Dean's eyes practically glow with desire. His stance is rigid, dramatically so, as though holding himself from springing at Castiel. Castiel's own desire surges again, nearly cresting into a release. He grabs at the base of his erection and squeezes hard. Too soon. He's still got a job to do.
It takes him a moment of fumbling to get the camera started. He ignores the chat boxes on the computer attached to the camera. His regular viewers often make special requests for certain positions or toys and it always earns Castiel more money. But this performance isn't for them. It's for Dean.
The first thing he needs to do is ensure he can last through the show. He rummages through the box of toys until he finds what he's looking for, a shining metallic cock ring. When he glances over again, Castiel is amused by Dean's wide eyes. A part of him wants to ask Dean to help, but that would be terribly unprofessional. After all, Castiel has masturbated in front of his fluffers before. He's never asked them to help.
A slight hiss escapes his lips as Castiel carefully slips on the ring. It hurts a little, but once locked in place, relief pours cool through his heated veins. He selects his favorite toy as well, but sets it aside the couch. There'll be time for that later. What Dean wants now is something entirely different.
To begin, Castiel keeps his back to Dean and flexes his shoulder muscles. His ruffled feathers raise an inch, the arches bending towards his head for a brief moment. Behind him, he hears Dean sigh softly and he smiles to himself. He never imagined Dean would be a winger and for the first time in his life, the attraction to his wings makes him feel special. Maybe it's the way Dean's eyes roam over his entire body, full of not just lust, but longing. As if his attraction went deeper than just finding wings pretty. Like maybe Dean had always needed a wing shield and never realized it.
As Castiel lifts his right wing out to the side of his body, he places both palms on his bare stomach and imagines closing Dean into a protective circle of feathers.
A thumping noise makes Castiel glance over his shoulder. Dean's dragged the chair over right beside the camera and is now sitting, legs sprawled before him and one hand massaging his erection through his jeans. Castiel stares. Dean's not even trying to be subtle. In fact, when Castiel's eyes flick up, he sees a preening sort of smirk on Dean's lips.
Right. So that's how it's going to be.
It abruptly frees Castiel of any last remaining nerves. Both wings flare up, high above his head to hold steady for a split second for whooshing down through the air to slam hard into the floor. Dean's gasp fuels Castiel's sudden passion. He can make Dean crazy. The power of the notion is heady. His wings puff up once more, each individual feather fluttering on the trembling muscles of his wings. Castiel forces the left back around to his front and turns to face Dean, his wing covering his body from Dean's and his viewer's eyes. Dean's little frown pleases Castiel.
He begins stroking the feathers, stopping every so often to squeeze them the way Dean had. Each tight grip sends a wave of pleasure crashing through his body, sizzling along every nerve ending. He watches Dean's hand rub over the ridge of his cock at the same pace Castiel strokes the wing. So easy to imagine that they are reversed. That Dean is caressing his wing and Castiel is holding Dean's hard length in his palm. He curls a handful of feathers around his dick. The soft smooth feathers feel like silk on his tender flesh. Dean watches Castiel's hands intently, pupils dilated and lower lip caught between his teeth. So obviously picturing his own cock receiving the same treatment. That sense of power surges more strongly through Castiel. Being wanted like this has never felt so exhilarating.
Although Castiel isn't sure he has ever been wanted like this before. It makes him want to give Dean more.
The feathers slip away from his heated flesh, revealing himself to Dean's eager gaze. His dick pulses on the edge of pain, each brush of skin or feather sparking a hard jab of pleasure. This first show won't last as long as he hoped and suddenly, Castiel doesn't care. He forgets the show, throws himself down on the couch and lays each wing out on either side, draping them carelessly over both armrests. Spread out for Dean.
Only for Dean.
He grabs the pot of lube and scoops out a generous handful, immediately slicking his cock before reaching for the toy he'd picked. It's Castiel's favorite because it's simple, just a normal rubber dildo with a realistic shape and size. Something Castiel can easily pretend is the real thing thrusting deep inside. He lets his wings roll across the couch like great feathery ocean waves while reaching down to slide the dildo across his cock. Not the same, he thinks and in that moment, Castiel realizes whatever’s going on between them won't end here.
Not if he can help it.
************
Dean can't believe his luck. He couldn't have gotten a more perfect show if he paid for one. Hell, they're paying him to be here. Probably not to sit and grind his palm down onto his dick while watching Castiel slide a dildo into his ass, but if that's what the talent needs, then Dean's obligated to help out.
Reserved, his foot. A reserved person doesn't kneel before a total stranger, legs and wings both spread as far as they'll go, moaning shamelessly into the red velvety material of that couch as they pump a lube-slickened dildo inside themselves.
It's taking every ounce of Dean's will-power not to tear open his jeans and pull out his now painful erection. This is his favorite position of Castiel’s and now he's close enough to hear every whimper and breathy gasp. Close enough to shut off the camera and replace that dildo with his fingers or dick. The torture of being close enough to touch, but not having permission pushes Dean harder to the edge than he imagined it would. He's never been one to deny himself anything and yet the idea that he can look, but not touch is so fucking hot. Castiel is playing him so hard and Dean loves every second of it.
"D..d..." Castiel pants, never quite forming the name that would be all too easily heard on the video. With the regular one-time vids, the music covers all the delicious moans and words Castiel might say, but on the livestream, Dean knows from experience, everything is heard. He has to keep his own mouth shut against the urge to curse and beg, to direct Castiel the way he wants him.
Castiel suddenly adjusts his position, turning enough to one side that he can look over his shoulder at Dean and something about the new angle obviously agrees with him because his eyes widen and his lips part with surprise.
"Oh, oh!"
Fuck.
Dean's pleasure surges and he wants to shove his hand down his pants so bad, he can't stand it.
Please, please. The words press hard and desperate, nearly escaping. Dean bites his tongue, probably drawing blood, but the pain does nothing except urge the pleasure higher. God, Cas, please.
Harder and faster, Castiel thrusts back onto the dildo, fucking himself and making that little startled gasp that sends heat pulsing through Dean's veins. He's never seen Castiel lose control like this before, wings thrashing wildly, one hand clawing at the couch, eyes clamped shut when he's not throwing frantic glances over his shoulder at Dean. The right wing flaps hard once and then curls around Castiel's leg, pulling it further, spreading him wider.
Dean's going to lose it before this is over.
"Close," Castiel whispers. "Oh, oh, gonna...I need...oh!"
Castiel never talks. Not words, not these almost sentences so obviously meant for Dean's ears. He grabs at the ring holding his dick captive, clumsily fumbling it off and wrapping one hand into a tight fist around his cock.
Yeah, c'mon. Wanna see, Cas. C'mon.
"I need..."
He opens his lust glazed eyes to catch Dean's gaze and thrusts hard once.
"Need," he whimpers and then he's coming, wings stiffening hard, body shaking with the power of it. In his life, Dean has never seen anything so beautiful and perfect. His own muscles tremble against the effort of going to him, gathering Castiel to his chest and rubbing his dick against those fucking gorgeous wings until he's coming too.
Castiel falls limp against the couch, panting heavily as his wings slowly relax. Dean's not sure what he should do. If he should wait for Castiel to dismiss him or if he can leave now to find private relief in the employee bathroom. All he knows is that if he doesn't come soon, he might die from the pain of it.
Before he can make a decision, Castiel is getting up from the couch, a mellow satisfied expression on his face. To Dean's surprise, he goes straight to the camera and turns it off. Normally, he lets his viewers watch him enjoy the glow of content. But now the viewers are gone. It's just the two of them and Castiel is falling to his knees before Dean's chair.
"Cas?"
"Please, Dean," he says, his fingers lightly rubbing along Dean's inner thigh. "Please, can I?"
"Fuck, yes," Dean groans.
************
Castiel knows this could be a very bad idea. Besides the risk of being caught, Castiel always believed it a bad idea to jump into physical relationships before knowing your partner. But quite frankly, it's hard to care when he's kneeling between Dean's spread legs and looking up into dark hungry eyes. All he wants now is to make Dean feel as good as he made Castiel feel.
"Please, Dean," he asks, chancing a light touch over Dean's thigh, right alongside the curve of his trapped erection. "Please, can I?"
Dean's voice is raspy and wrecked when he answers, "Fuck, yes."
Another surge of that sweet sense of power washes over Castiel. He's too relaxed and spent to get hard again now, but it doesn't stop Castiel from enjoying the way Dean's breath catches when he unbuttons Dean's jeans and carefully tugs the zipper down. His dick jumps at the barest touch of Castiel's fingers.
"You sure about this?" he asks, his desperate tone edged with very real concern. A warm sensation begins to glow in Castiel's chest. He knows Gabriel thinks he's a virgin, but it's not true. Castiel had a few fumbled sexual encounters before leaving Heaven with two different angels he'd known his whole life. In both those cases, despite their long acquaintance, Castiel never really felt they cared about the sex beyond the moment when they found release.
He does not feel that way now.
"Quite sure," Castiel says as he peels the edge of Dean's underwear down over his erection.
Castiel likes Dean's cock. It's very like his favorite toy. Perhaps a bit thicker and definitely warmer, but the same perfect length. Castiel wants to know how it'd feel buried deeply in his body, but that's not for today. Today, Castiel wants to taste. He leans down to flick his tongue along the tip.
He only takes a brief pause to register the dark musky flavor and the low moan that vibrates in Dean's chest before wrapping his lips around the head and sucking hard.
"Fuck," Dean hisses, reaching out with clench his fingers around the arches of Castiel's wings. The action sparks an instinctual motion from both wings. The left curls around Dean's leg while the right slips in behind his back and pulls, forcing Dean's cock deeper into Castiel's mouth. Dean makes another noise, this one a strangled wordless bit of nonsense that tingles at the base of Castiel's spine. His body grows warmer, his desire to please more urgent. The smooth hard muscles of Dean's stomach and legs tremble under the strain of his obvious pleasure and after holding off release while Castiel performed for him, Castiel thinks Dean must be very close. He hopes to have more chances to draw out Dean's pleasure, but now, Castiel just wants to make Dean come.
So he doesn't waste anytime. He grasps the front of Dean's shirt to steady himself before eagerly sucking the entire length of Dean's cock in his mouth. Dean only just holds back a startled jump, but Castiel taps his hip, hoping Dean understands his permission.
Obviously he does.
"God," Dean mutters as he begins thrusting his cock in and out of Castiel's mouth. Shallow and gentle thrusts, but still effectively fucking Castiel's face.
It's amazing. He loves the way Dean trusts that Castiel can take him, but remains aware of his comfort. He loves sharing this intimacy, being filled by Dean while surrounding him with feathers and soft touches and warm wet heat. Dean's fingers skip along Castiel's wings, stopping now and again to clutch and tug as he moans and curses.
"Fuck, Cas, yes," Dean babbles, his hips snapping ever faster. "So fucking good."
The urge to smile stretches his lips and causes his teeth to catch lightly at the head, a very light touch, but apparently a shock because Dean abruptly stiffens and groans as he spills into Castiel's mouth.
"Shit, shit, sorry," he says, trying to push Castiel away. Castiel lets him, more to ease Dean's worry than out of any of his own, and immediately begins stroking Dean again, root to tip, easing Dean through the rest of his release. His wings close harder around Dean, pulling him closer and Castiel lays his cheek against Dean's thigh, now thoroughly tired and relaxed, as if he'd come again himself. Dean slumps in the chair. His hands slide from Castiel's feathers down to his hair, his fingers carding through the strands slowly and softly.
"Cas?"
Castiel nuzzles Dean's spent cock and presses a light kiss to the base. "No one's ever called me 'Cas' before," he comments.
"Oh." One of Dean's hands rests on Castiel's head. "Is it okay?"
Taking Dean's other hand in his own, Castiel threads their fingers together.
"Yes."
Part 3
Author: CloudyJenn
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Warnings: extreme wingkink
Summary: When Castiel loses his job, he resorts to making wing fetish videos to make cash. Dean really likes them.
Author's Notes: This is the so-called wingkink!verse.
"A hot date?" Sarah asks, one eyebrow raised. "With Mr. Right Hand?"
That girl knows him too well. Dean hadn't realized how much he dated around until he abruptly stopped and all his friends began commenting on it. It's not like Dean never wants to go out again. And yes, he's got a really pathetic crush on an internet porn star, but he'd have that anyway. Really, Dean has no idea why he's not been dating. Just the idea of going through all the trouble to score a hookup only to face the inevitable avoidance exhausts Dean. It's not worth it anymore.
"Don't make it sound so cheap, Sarah," Dean says. "It's love this time. I mean it."
"I'm sure you'll be very happy," she deadpans as she shelves another volume about frogs. Some biology class must have just had a research paper. The thought depresses Dean. He's got a term paper languishing on his laptop. To think his life has come to this. No sex and constant studying. If he wasn't so certain he hated the idea of the same dead-end garage job and crappy apartment his whole life, Dean would have lost his mind by now.
"Are you okay?" Sarah asks.
"Yeah." Dean frowns. "Why?"
"You had a really intense look on your face," she says, turning to lean against the nearby table. "You looked like you were having an epiphany."
"No, I just..."
Except she is right. Three years ago, Dean realized that his shitty job and boring life weren't worth it. So with Sam's help, he enrolled in college and now he's almost all the way through a nursing degree. It's possible he might have just realized that cheap hookups were just as worthless as his previous existence.
"Huh," Dean says.
"What?"
"I should probably date."
Sarah's expression turns bewildered. "What are you talking about?"
"Like...dating. Actual dating," Dean says slowly, as if uncovering an utterly brilliant and new thought. Why hadn't he ever thought of this before? Having a real relationship. With regular sex and doing shit together and sleeping in the same bed. The more he thinks about it, the more excited he grows. All those stupid meaningless hookups were fun at the time, but Dean wants more.
He had no idea.
"Oh." Sarah grins and actually claps her hands. "Dean, that's brilliant! Do you have anyone in mind?"
Of course, the first person who comes to mind is Silver. Dean shakes his head. That's a fantasy. He needs someone real.
"I don't know anyone worthwhile," he confesses.
"Hmmm, well. What are you looking for? You're bi, right?"
Dean shrugs. "Not really, but kind of?"
He gets another bewildered expression.
"A guy," Dean says. "I want a guy."
"Wait, hold on."
Sarah goes to grab a notebook and orders to Dean to finish their shelving while she makes notes on his perfect man. The only problem being that Dean doesn't know what that is. Personality-wise anyway. So he ends up describing physical characteristics and by the time he's done, Sarah's grin has turned almost fiendish.
"You're a winger," she accuses lightly.
No sense denying it.
"Yeah."
"Well, it just so happens that I know an angel," Sarah says excitedly. "And he's single! Are you interested?"
"How should I know?" Dean says, even though his spine tingles with a familiar anticipation.
God, wings are so fucking hot.
"He's really handsome and funny and he's got these sort of sandy-colored wings," she describes. "His name is Balthazar. He lives in my building. So, can I set you up? Please?"
Sandy-colored. Not silver. Dean sighs. Never going to be silver, he tells himself. No one has silver wings like that. Not in real life.
Still, he has a feeling he's going to regret this.
"Uh, sure, I guess."
****************
"What's the matter with you?"
Dean's been pacing around the living room for about fifteen minutes now while Sam cooks in the kitchen. It might not have made such an impression, but Dean's been so relaxed lately since he became obsessed with his internet angel.
"Sarah's setting me up with some guy," Dean mutters.
Surprise and relief mix in Sam's mind. He had been starting to worry that Dean had given up on dating altogether.
"That's good, right?"
Dean shrugs. "I guess. He's an angel."
That fact was not a surprise. Sam shakes his head fondly. He might tease Dean about his wing fetish and maybe he doesn't get the angel obsession, but angels are just like humans when it comes to dating. Their ideas about the world make no sense to Sam and it's hard to imagine Dean having anything in common with one, but Sam's seen stranger pairings. If nothing else, maybe dating an angel will erase the mystery about it and Dean will get over his obsession.
"You like angels," Sam says encouragingly.
"I did. I mean, I do," Dean blurts, pacing anew. "I haven't really been looking around. I mean, I think I might have been ruined on the whole angel thing."
Sam rolls his eyes.
"If you're talking about that stupid Silver person, someone told me today that he was a frigid prude, so maybe you're not missing anything."
The rush of emotions across Dean's face is comical. Indignation followed by anger that quickly melts into confusion and then suspicion.
"Who told you that?"
"You remember that guy Chuck that used to hang around when I was still in undergraduate? Short, scruffy kinda annoying guy?"
Irritation catches at Dean's eyes.
"That guy? How the fuck does he know anything about it?"
Now that Sam's telling Dean, he doesn't feel nearly so triumphant. In fact, he feels like an ass for talking about Dean's private matters, even with a friend. But if he hadn't been such a jerk that morning! Sam takes a deep breath to calm himself. He wouldn't be feeling so crappy if Dean weren't freaking out about the first potential date he's mentioned in weeks.
"That website is headquartered here in Lawrence."
Dean's eyes widen and he freezes in place.
"Here?" he says, almost a whisper.
"Apparently. Chuck works for them. Fluffing wings or something. He said that guy, Silver...well, his name is Castiel, I guess. Anyway, he said he's really uptight, so you're not missing anything."
The indignation returns and Sam expects a full rant about the wonders of Silver Castiel, but what Dean says is totally different.
"Are you telling me that annoying little shit has touched Silver's wings?"
Dear god.
"Castiel, Dean. And yes, Chuck has thoroughly fondled those wings," he says nastily, annoyed and worried over Dean's persistent crush. The dark scowl Dean throws his way doesn't make Sam feel any better. "It's his job."
The discontent on Dean's face abruptly falls away as a smile Sam does not like or trust grows on Dean's lips.
"Are they hiring?"
"Oh god," Sam groans.
*************
The thing is, Dean's not sure what he should do. Knowing that Silver...no, Castiel and isn't that name just perfect for him? Weird and kinda old-fashioned. That's what Castiel is. Not frigid. He's just...elegant.
Yes, even though he disrobes online.
But the knowledge that Castiel lives in the area crawls under Dean's skin and won't leave him alone. He's so close. The potential is so close. Dean could see him in the flesh. Breathe in his scent and feel his body heat soaking into his skin. Touch those fucking gorgeous wings.
The thought of it sends Dean into a long heated fantasy that usually involves Dean coming on Castiel's wings and tucking him into his side in bed.
Still, Dean isn’t so crazy that he doesn’t see how creepy it would be for him to track Castiel down. Although it would be simple. Castiel is not a common name. Dean doesn't even need a last name to know he'd be able to find him. But who in the world would want a scary stalker that hunts you down after watching hours of footage of you jerking off?
Dean doesn't want to frighten Castiel. He doesn't just want to fuck him. Although yes, he very much wants to do that. But there's more to it. Dean wants to hear his voice, speaking actual words instead of breathless moaning. He wants to know why Castiel took this job. Whether he likes it as much as Dean suspects he does. What the rest of his life is like.
Just anything.
The last thing Dean wants is to ruin that chance.
Plus, there's the date with Balthazar. He now really regrets telling Sarah she could set them up, but he doesn't want to back out. Not because of Balthazar. He could care less about him. But he doesn't want to disappoint Sarah after she went to the trouble.
So, after thinking it over for about thirty minutes in the shower, Dean decides he'll go on the date, tell Balthazar no thanks and then figure out Castiel.
Which is why he finds himself standing in the foyer of a too-expensive restaurant dressed in an outfit that's getting him strange looks from the staff. Apparently, this isn't a flannel kind of establishment.
"Um, I'm meeting a guy here? Balthazar?"
The hostess' tight smile eases slightly at his words.
"Oh, of course, sir. Mr. Steele is waiting for you," she says, gesturing for Dean to follow her.
Balthazar Steele? Dean makes a face. The atmosphere of this place makes him uncomfortable and the fact that hostess clearly knows Balthazar doesn't earn him any points. There are candles on the table, for pity's sake.
She leads him to a quiet private table near the back of the room. Waiting for him is a somewhat attractive fair-haired angel with medium length tan colored wings.
Nothing to write home about.
His eyes flick over Dean's body, all to clinical. He's being sized up and judging by the flare of disappointment in Balthazar's eyes, he's not anymore impressed than Dean. Which makes this easier actually, for all that it makes Dean want to puff out his chest and tell him to fuck off.
"Let me guess," Balthazar says, his voice smooth and touched by some kind of accent. "Sarah heard all about how you like angels and thought we'd just be perfect."
Dean falls into his seat and grabs a bread stick from a basket on the table.
"Yeah," he says with a snort.
"Sarah's a sweet lovely girl, but she's quite clueless," Balthazar says lightly.
Dean thinks he hears another message in there. He sips his glass of water and gives Balthazar a raised eyebrow.
"So if you like her, why are you here with me?"
"If you're in love with another angel, why are you here?" Balthazar shoots back.
"I'm not," Dean says, lip curling and that's the truth. Interested, yes, but Dean has no idea what Castiel is really like.
"Either way, I saw your expression when you looked at my wings," Balthazar says with a smile. He doesn't sound upset, but rather amused. "Not the wings you were hoping for."
"Shut up. At least I'm closer than you. At least I'm with the right gender," Dean grumbles.
"Whatever Sarah sends me, I'm willing to take," he says pleasantly.
"Why?"
"Because soon enough she'll understand why she's so determined to find me a partner."
Dean frowns. "That's messed up."
"Who's your angel?" Balthazar asks, turning the tables back on Dean.
He considers not answering. If Balthazar lives on Earth, he might have visited hardcorewings and Dean's not exactly eager to share with a total stranger his crush on an internet porn star. Then again, he doesn't have to say how he knows Castiel. And the angels come from a close-knit community. He might know some stuff about Castiel.
Glancing up at Balthazar's neutral expression, Dean decides to take the risk.
"His name is Castiel."
"Oh! I knew a Castiel once, years ago in school. Scrawny chap. Dark hair, blue eyes, absolutely obscene silver wings?"
While he's not sure about the 'scrawny' part now, it's possible Castiel was a skinny kid. Angelet. Whatever the hell they're called. The rest sounds like him.
"Yeah, that's him."
"Oh dear, you have your work cut out for you," Balthazar says, leaning down to rest his chin on one hand. "When I knew Castiel, he was fond of what we in Heaven call the wing shield."
"What the hell is that?"
"Hiding behind your wings," Balthazar explains. "By any standard, Castiel wasn't weak, but he was very reserved. He didn't like a lot of attention."
Dean stares. Could this really be the same man? The one who sprawls across that couch and touches himself with wanton abandon? That's hardly what Dean calls reserved and yet, here's another person telling him it's true. A person who actually knew Castiel for several years at least. His curiosity burns ever hotter.
"That's, um..."
Balthazar smiles at Dean's inability to respond. "Don't worry, love. Just be careful and do whatever the hell he wants and he'll be yours."
"Right. Thanks," Dean says with a slight eye roll. "Look, I'm just gonna get out of here."
Without waiting for Balthazar's answer, he stands and turns to go. But before he can, Dean pauses and glances back at Balthazar.
"Sarah likes a grand gesture. Maybe you shouldn't be careful," he advises.
He really hopes Sarah actually likes Balthazar. If not, he'll make a grand gesture of his own. Either way, Dean's got other things to worry about.
Like getting a new job.
**************
When Dean sees the pay rate, he decides that there are two very good reasons to be working at hardcorewings. His last job’s pay is nothing compared to what he'll be making here. It's a wrench to give up the library, but even if Dean only works the porn job for the rest of the semester, he'll be set for a year. Maybe that's the reason Castiel works here.
The interview goes well, all things considered. No one asks him if he's got a crazy wing fetish, but they do mention there'll be a background check, so Dean assumes they're looking for any weird wing-stalking incidents. Given the way his new boss leers at the talent, Dean thinks maybe it's not a problem anyway. So long as he doesn't bother anyone. Which he won't. He's not here to bug Castiel. He just wants to get to know him.
The only awkward moment comes when Dean ends up in the break room with Chuck on his first day. That's when he abruptly remembers that Sam told him about his crush on Castiel. Luckily, Chuck doesn't seem to recognize him. He just nods a greeting and gets back to sucking down an unhealthy amount of coffee. The red eyes and slight unpleasant odor wafting off him suggests a hangover. Come to think of it, Dean isn't sure Chuck ever met Dean while he was sober. He's not surprised the guy doesn't remember him.
Whatever. It saves Dean the trouble of bullying Chuck into silence.
Unfortunately, the rest of his day is rather boring. It's mostly a string of introductions and training. The job's not hard. Dean is responsible for keeping the various filming rooms cleaned up after the angels are done and for preparing the actors for their shows. It's not Chuck, but rather another fluffer named Pam who gives Dean a lesson in basic wing care on a bored looking angel named Lynn.
Castiel really has ruined him for other angels. Lynn's wings are a pretty bright white, but Dean doesn't feel anything other than determination to get her feathers all going in the same direction when he touches them. Pam explains to him that porn is a lot less interesting when you're the one who gets to fill up the lube pots and wash the sticky laundry.
"So if you're here for the sexy excitement, you've chosen the wrong career path, sugar," she says with a wink.
Dean chuckles. Easy flirting is just what he needs to keep his pulse calm.
"I don't need all that much help finding sexy excitement," he says back, even though it's apparently a lie.
"Oh I bet you don't." She gives him one long appraising look and makes a humming noise in the back of her throat. "Too bad you don't have wings. You'd be a hot commodity around here. No, not that way," she says, abruptly breaking from teasing to teaching. "The feathers along the edge should be puffed up. The wingers think it's hot."
"It is hot," Lynn comments, yawning. "To angels. Ya done yet? I got a show in five."
Huh. So porn really is boring if you're making it. Dean finishes the look, feeling rather proud of himself and watches Lynn trudge off to her next performance. When he glances back, Pam is giving him a thoughtful look.
"You're a natural," she says and then a grin breaks out. "You did come here to find sexy entertainment."
Dean does not blush and Pam does not stop laughing.
There's no sign of Castiel that day. Dean doesn't dare ask about him. The guy must have a day off now and again and besides, Dean wants to know the lay of the land before he meets Castiel face to face. He'd hate to meet him only to give him a really bad wingjob.
On the afternoon of his third day, while Dean is trying to decide which cleaner will get that stain out of the black armchair in Room 4, Pam suddenly appears in the door with an aggravated look on her face.
"Hey, Dean, ya busy?"
"Not unless you count a jizz mark an emergency," he says with a shrug.
"I don't. Come here," she orders, jerking her head with a nod down the hall. "I gotta take care of Lucifer right now." The way she says this gives Dean the impression that this Lucifer is a handful. "I need you to fluff Castiel."
Dean's heart leaps into his throat.
"Um, what?" he says stupidly.
"Sorry, I know you're mostly assigned to Lynn and Garel, but Chuck's 'sick'. I assume that means he's laying in a puddle of vomit somewhere," she says. Once she notices that Dean's stopped, she grabs his wrist and tugs him down the hallway. "Castiel is easy. He won't fuss, but it'll take forever. His wings are huge. Be careful with them or Crowley will have your head, okay?"
Dean can't think or talk, can't even nod. His pulse now races under his skin and he feels shaky, like he might lose the ability to stand soon. He stares at the door Pam has dragged him to and thinks to himself, Castiel is behind that door
"Dean?"
"Uh, yeah," he finally mutters. "Sure."
"Great. Good luck."
Dean curls his fingers around the brass handle and with a deep cleansing breath, he opens the door.
*************
Castiel is in a foul mood.
He spent the previous evening staying up too late working on a term paper he thought he'd finished until the professor abruptly changed the assignment on him. Gabriel then ruined what little sleep he managed to get by showing up in the middle of the night, drunken and giggling with his latest conquest. Even worse, when Castiel opened his bedroom door to yell at them, he discovered it was Jo the receptionist. Which makes the atmosphere strained when Castiel shows up for work that day. At least awkward for him. Jo just shrugs at him and seems to pretend he didn't seen her shirtless and gyrating in his brother's lap.
So he is tired and embarrassed. Never a good state to be in when you orgasm for a living.
But the real problem isn't the fatigue or the awkwardness.
It's that he hasn't seen Dean in almost two weeks. He tried so hard to stay away to save himself the pain, but it'd been a stressful week and Castiel just wanted one glance. One little glance to make himself feel better, but Dean wasn't there. Ever since Castiel started visiting the library to see him, Dean has kept the same schedule. Monday through Thursday from 3 PM until close and Sundays from 8AM to 4PM. That first time Dean didn't show, Castiel assumed he was out sick. He went by the second day to discover Dean still wasn't there. By the third day, Castiel began to worry Dean was seriously ill. When the new human showed up on the fourth day, Castiel couldn't stop himself from asking after Dean at the front desk.
"Dean Winchester? Oh, I'm sorry. He no longer works here."
As Castiel sits in his chair at work, stewing and glaring into his cup of coffee, he still feels the pulse of dismay he felt when he heard those words. Even finally learning Dean's last name doesn't make Castiel feel better. Sure, he could find Dean now, but there's a difference between haunting someone's workplace and tracking them down.
Right?
He doesn't know. It's all so confusing. His feelings for Dean can't possibly be as significant as they seem.
Maybe Dean being gone from his job is not a bad thing. Maybe it will force Castiel to forget him once and for all.
The door opens and Pam sticks her head in.
"Hey, Castiel, Chuck's out sick. You okay with the new guy fluffing you? Swear he's a cool guy," she says in a rush.
Lucifer must be throwing another fit.
"Yes, that's fine," Castiel says. It doesn't matter very much to him who touches his wings anymore. He's beginning to wonder if these fluffers are the only people who'll ever touch them again.
Stop being morose, Castiel scolds himself.
Oh well. No matter his mood, he needs to get ready for work. Dragging himself up from the chair, Castiel begins undressing. When he first started working at HCW, Castiel felt uncomfortable undressing in front of any live person. But he soon learned that taking his clothes off after a good fluffing just messes up his wings again. Besides, if he can be naked and hard in front of thousands of strangers, then one fluffer is hardly worth being upset over.
Once he's naked, Castiel stretches for a few moments, mostly to work out the kinks in his muscles from his unsatisfying night of sleep. He opens his right wing fully and groans lightly. Those muscles are overworked. Letting it drop, he then lifts the left wing for the same treatment.
It's when both wings are extended that the door opens again and Castiel hears a sharp intake of breath from behind him.
"Holy shit," the new voice says breathlessly.
Castiel closes his wings around his body and with a blush staining his cheeks, he turns, thinking to himself that he must be making a terrible first impression by displaying himself like that.
"Oh, I'm..."
His wings stiffen with shock. It's Dean. The man in the doorway staring hungrily at his wings is Dean Winchester. The absurdity of seeing Dean in this place, as if Castiel conjured him by the strength of his longing, throws Castiel's logic out of the window. He has absolutely no idea why Dean is here.
"Hey, sorry," Dean says, his perfect gruff voice even more utterly distracting when it's addressing him directly, "I didn't mean...I should have knocked. I didn't you'd be..."
His eyes flick down Castiel's naked body, lingering for a brief instant on Castiel's cock. The glance feels heavy, like a physical caress and it draws Castiel towards the beginning of an erection.
"Sorry," he says again. "I'm Dean. They said I should, uh...I should fluff your wings?"
Understanding slams into Castiel's mind. Oh god. Dean Winchester is his new fluffer.
Oh god.
************
This is such a horrible horrible idea. Dean's already so hard, he can barely walk and that's just from that fucking display he got when he walked into this room. Castiel's giant sloping wings risen in graceful arcs on either side of his naked body, the sensitive skin around his wing-joints fully exposed to Dean and an up close look at the perfect ass Dean's been daydreaming about for weeks now.
He's being so unprofessional, but he can't help himself. Castiel has him completely transfixed. Dean doesn't think he could leave now if he tried.
"My wings?" Castiel says weakly.
Hearing his voice does nothing to calm Dean's disobedient libido. It's just like his unreserved moaning, rough and deep and dragging along Dean's skin just as if Castiel were touching him.
"Uh, yeah. I'm supposed to make them all pretty. Not that you need it. I mean, not that they aren't already really gorgeous," Dean stammers foolishly. "Just you need them arranged for the show and I'm here to do it."
If Castiel minds his babbling, he doesn't show it. In fact, he's having trouble looking Dean in the eye. He wonders if this the famous timidity showing itself. There's nothing wrong with that. Who wouldn't be a little wary about being naked in front of a total stranger, right? Sam is crazy. Castiel isn't frigid. He's just shy.
"Is that okay?" Dean asks softly.
"Oh oh, yes, of course," Castiel says, abruptly springing into action.
He turns away from Dean, giving him another excuse to glance at his ass. Still a mistake, Dean thinks as his dick pulses against his pants. His only hope is that Castiel is too distracted by getting ready to notice the obvious bulge. He watches Castiel settle himself in the room's only chair. To Dean's surprise, Castiel's wings are fluttering wildly. A little nerves about a new fluffer shouldn't be causing this flurry of anxiety.
"I'm not making you nervous, am I?" Dean has to ask.
"No!" Castiel nearly shouts and then grabs fistfuls of wing, obviously to steady himself. "It's fine," he says more quietly. "You can start now."
The signals are confusing, but Dean has to trust that Castiel would tell him to get out if he was making him uncomfortable. He's got a job to do and so does Castiel. Dean can be professional. He can.
Even when faced with the reality of running his fingers through long silvery feathers.
God, his dick is aching.
Dean presses the heel of his palm hard against his groin to ease a bit of tension before approaching Castiel's side and grabbing the tube of wingcare product. He gives Castiel a reassuring smile and then steps around to his back, once more hiding from Castiel's view. Thankfully. As he assesses the state of Castiel's wings, Dean wonders if he should make small talk. Or if he even can make small talk. He's afraid he'll get halfway through a sentence and then break off into a moan at the feel of strong wing muscles flexing under his hands.
His cock twitches again and Dean bites his lower lip.
Right. No talking.
The wings are a little messy and the constant motion they're in isn't helping matter. Dean doesn't even know where to start. A few stray feathers at the bottom need plucking and the middle is in need of flattening. The top ridges are wild and fluffed up already though, which Dean finds curious. As if Castiel were already aroused. Still, it should make his job go faster.
"Are they alright?" Castiel asks quietly.
God, yes.
"Yeah, it's fine. Just trying to make a plan," Dean mutters vaguely.
There's nothing else for it. He's just going to have to dive in.
Dean reaches out and slowly draws the back of one hand down a thrashing silver mass.
Castiel lets out a short gasp and curls his fingers around the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles turn white. The wings themselves stiffen once before relaxing and Dean nearly comes in his pants. The way they're moving is so similar to the videos, so exactly like a turned-on angel that all Dean's thoughts fall out of his brain and he finds himself gathering massive fistfuls of feathers into both hands, squeezing them between his fingers. Castiel's gasp turns a mewling noise and he squirms in his seat.
"Dean," he pants, effectively bringing Dean back to his senses.
"Sorry!" He lets go of the wings and steps back, appalled at himself. "God, I'm so sorry."
"No," Castiel breathes, leaning his elbows on his knees and shaking his head. "It's okay. Please don't stop."
There's no way Dean can refuse him, but he makes himself swear he'll be more professional. To that end, Dean immediately pours a dollop of wingcare product into his hands and begins rubbing it into Castiel's wings. There's nothing sexy about the sticky substance that will eventually soak into the wings as if it never existed, but feels at first like a cross between lube and shampoo. Whatever's bothering Castiel seems to dissipate. His breathing returns to normal as Dean carefully flattens the wings and then kneels down to pluck out the errant strays at the bottom.
The problem starts again when Dean stands to style the top ridges.
The feathers along his arches don't need any product. They're already puffier than Dean's ever seen them. All they need is a little encouragement to go in the right direction and Castiel will be set. And then Dean can escape this delightful torture.
When he runs his palm over the left arch, the wings flare straight out so suddenly and so forcefully that they knock over a nearby table.
"Are you okay?" Dean asks, surprised and not a little turned on by the obvious strength of the wings.
"I...no," Castiel rasps.
Dean steps around the slowly lowering right wing to get a good look at Castiel's face, fearful of anger or irritation.
That's not what he sees. Castiel's cheeks are reddened, his eyes glazed and lower lip swollen from biting. Dean's eyes wander from Castiel's flushed face down his heaving chest to the erection he'd been trying to hide. His lips part with surprise. Dean's seen this before. He knows exactly what Castiel looks like when he comes and he's not far from it.
"Oh," he says stupidly.
"I think I'm ready now," Castiel whispers.
"Oh. O-okay," Dean stutters. "I'll just..." He points his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll let you get to it?"
But Castiel's hand shoots out and grabs Dean's wrist, holding him from his escape.
"No, please. I want...I want you to watch."
Holy fuck.
************
The tips of Castiel's wings knot together as he stumbles across the room to set up his afternoon shoot. Dean's hot gaze follows his every step, but Castiel doesn't dare look back at him. Not yet. He's already too close. One brief touch along his dick right now and Castiel knows he'd come all over himself.
Dear god, the way Dean touched him. No one had ever touched him like that before. With such possessiveness, such obvious command. When he gripped Castiel's feathers so tightly in both hands, Castiel thought he'd black out from the pleasure.
It doesn't seem possible. Castiel feels certain he must have gone crazy and conjured up this wonderful dream of Dean being here. Being here and being just as affected by that wing grooming as Castiel was. That Dean even knew how to touch Castiel in exactly the right way, like another angel would know. It was all too perfect and when Dean mentioned leaving, Castiel couldn't let go. Not before getting the chance to see if maybe all this might actually be real.
He sneaks a glance over his shoulder. Dean's eyes practically glow with desire. His stance is rigid, dramatically so, as though holding himself from springing at Castiel. Castiel's own desire surges again, nearly cresting into a release. He grabs at the base of his erection and squeezes hard. Too soon. He's still got a job to do.
It takes him a moment of fumbling to get the camera started. He ignores the chat boxes on the computer attached to the camera. His regular viewers often make special requests for certain positions or toys and it always earns Castiel more money. But this performance isn't for them. It's for Dean.
The first thing he needs to do is ensure he can last through the show. He rummages through the box of toys until he finds what he's looking for, a shining metallic cock ring. When he glances over again, Castiel is amused by Dean's wide eyes. A part of him wants to ask Dean to help, but that would be terribly unprofessional. After all, Castiel has masturbated in front of his fluffers before. He's never asked them to help.
A slight hiss escapes his lips as Castiel carefully slips on the ring. It hurts a little, but once locked in place, relief pours cool through his heated veins. He selects his favorite toy as well, but sets it aside the couch. There'll be time for that later. What Dean wants now is something entirely different.
To begin, Castiel keeps his back to Dean and flexes his shoulder muscles. His ruffled feathers raise an inch, the arches bending towards his head for a brief moment. Behind him, he hears Dean sigh softly and he smiles to himself. He never imagined Dean would be a winger and for the first time in his life, the attraction to his wings makes him feel special. Maybe it's the way Dean's eyes roam over his entire body, full of not just lust, but longing. As if his attraction went deeper than just finding wings pretty. Like maybe Dean had always needed a wing shield and never realized it.
As Castiel lifts his right wing out to the side of his body, he places both palms on his bare stomach and imagines closing Dean into a protective circle of feathers.
A thumping noise makes Castiel glance over his shoulder. Dean's dragged the chair over right beside the camera and is now sitting, legs sprawled before him and one hand massaging his erection through his jeans. Castiel stares. Dean's not even trying to be subtle. In fact, when Castiel's eyes flick up, he sees a preening sort of smirk on Dean's lips.
Right. So that's how it's going to be.
It abruptly frees Castiel of any last remaining nerves. Both wings flare up, high above his head to hold steady for a split second for whooshing down through the air to slam hard into the floor. Dean's gasp fuels Castiel's sudden passion. He can make Dean crazy. The power of the notion is heady. His wings puff up once more, each individual feather fluttering on the trembling muscles of his wings. Castiel forces the left back around to his front and turns to face Dean, his wing covering his body from Dean's and his viewer's eyes. Dean's little frown pleases Castiel.
He begins stroking the feathers, stopping every so often to squeeze them the way Dean had. Each tight grip sends a wave of pleasure crashing through his body, sizzling along every nerve ending. He watches Dean's hand rub over the ridge of his cock at the same pace Castiel strokes the wing. So easy to imagine that they are reversed. That Dean is caressing his wing and Castiel is holding Dean's hard length in his palm. He curls a handful of feathers around his dick. The soft smooth feathers feel like silk on his tender flesh. Dean watches Castiel's hands intently, pupils dilated and lower lip caught between his teeth. So obviously picturing his own cock receiving the same treatment. That sense of power surges more strongly through Castiel. Being wanted like this has never felt so exhilarating.
Although Castiel isn't sure he has ever been wanted like this before. It makes him want to give Dean more.
The feathers slip away from his heated flesh, revealing himself to Dean's eager gaze. His dick pulses on the edge of pain, each brush of skin or feather sparking a hard jab of pleasure. This first show won't last as long as he hoped and suddenly, Castiel doesn't care. He forgets the show, throws himself down on the couch and lays each wing out on either side, draping them carelessly over both armrests. Spread out for Dean.
Only for Dean.
He grabs the pot of lube and scoops out a generous handful, immediately slicking his cock before reaching for the toy he'd picked. It's Castiel's favorite because it's simple, just a normal rubber dildo with a realistic shape and size. Something Castiel can easily pretend is the real thing thrusting deep inside. He lets his wings roll across the couch like great feathery ocean waves while reaching down to slide the dildo across his cock. Not the same, he thinks and in that moment, Castiel realizes whatever’s going on between them won't end here.
Not if he can help it.
************
Dean can't believe his luck. He couldn't have gotten a more perfect show if he paid for one. Hell, they're paying him to be here. Probably not to sit and grind his palm down onto his dick while watching Castiel slide a dildo into his ass, but if that's what the talent needs, then Dean's obligated to help out.
Reserved, his foot. A reserved person doesn't kneel before a total stranger, legs and wings both spread as far as they'll go, moaning shamelessly into the red velvety material of that couch as they pump a lube-slickened dildo inside themselves.
It's taking every ounce of Dean's will-power not to tear open his jeans and pull out his now painful erection. This is his favorite position of Castiel’s and now he's close enough to hear every whimper and breathy gasp. Close enough to shut off the camera and replace that dildo with his fingers or dick. The torture of being close enough to touch, but not having permission pushes Dean harder to the edge than he imagined it would. He's never been one to deny himself anything and yet the idea that he can look, but not touch is so fucking hot. Castiel is playing him so hard and Dean loves every second of it.
"D..d..." Castiel pants, never quite forming the name that would be all too easily heard on the video. With the regular one-time vids, the music covers all the delicious moans and words Castiel might say, but on the livestream, Dean knows from experience, everything is heard. He has to keep his own mouth shut against the urge to curse and beg, to direct Castiel the way he wants him.
Castiel suddenly adjusts his position, turning enough to one side that he can look over his shoulder at Dean and something about the new angle obviously agrees with him because his eyes widen and his lips part with surprise.
"Oh, oh!"
Fuck.
Dean's pleasure surges and he wants to shove his hand down his pants so bad, he can't stand it.
Please, please. The words press hard and desperate, nearly escaping. Dean bites his tongue, probably drawing blood, but the pain does nothing except urge the pleasure higher. God, Cas, please.
Harder and faster, Castiel thrusts back onto the dildo, fucking himself and making that little startled gasp that sends heat pulsing through Dean's veins. He's never seen Castiel lose control like this before, wings thrashing wildly, one hand clawing at the couch, eyes clamped shut when he's not throwing frantic glances over his shoulder at Dean. The right wing flaps hard once and then curls around Castiel's leg, pulling it further, spreading him wider.
Dean's going to lose it before this is over.
"Close," Castiel whispers. "Oh, oh, gonna...I need...oh!"
Castiel never talks. Not words, not these almost sentences so obviously meant for Dean's ears. He grabs at the ring holding his dick captive, clumsily fumbling it off and wrapping one hand into a tight fist around his cock.
Yeah, c'mon. Wanna see, Cas. C'mon.
"I need..."
He opens his lust glazed eyes to catch Dean's gaze and thrusts hard once.
"Need," he whimpers and then he's coming, wings stiffening hard, body shaking with the power of it. In his life, Dean has never seen anything so beautiful and perfect. His own muscles tremble against the effort of going to him, gathering Castiel to his chest and rubbing his dick against those fucking gorgeous wings until he's coming too.
Castiel falls limp against the couch, panting heavily as his wings slowly relax. Dean's not sure what he should do. If he should wait for Castiel to dismiss him or if he can leave now to find private relief in the employee bathroom. All he knows is that if he doesn't come soon, he might die from the pain of it.
Before he can make a decision, Castiel is getting up from the couch, a mellow satisfied expression on his face. To Dean's surprise, he goes straight to the camera and turns it off. Normally, he lets his viewers watch him enjoy the glow of content. But now the viewers are gone. It's just the two of them and Castiel is falling to his knees before Dean's chair.
"Cas?"
"Please, Dean," he says, his fingers lightly rubbing along Dean's inner thigh. "Please, can I?"
"Fuck, yes," Dean groans.
************
Castiel knows this could be a very bad idea. Besides the risk of being caught, Castiel always believed it a bad idea to jump into physical relationships before knowing your partner. But quite frankly, it's hard to care when he's kneeling between Dean's spread legs and looking up into dark hungry eyes. All he wants now is to make Dean feel as good as he made Castiel feel.
"Please, Dean," he asks, chancing a light touch over Dean's thigh, right alongside the curve of his trapped erection. "Please, can I?"
Dean's voice is raspy and wrecked when he answers, "Fuck, yes."
Another surge of that sweet sense of power washes over Castiel. He's too relaxed and spent to get hard again now, but it doesn't stop Castiel from enjoying the way Dean's breath catches when he unbuttons Dean's jeans and carefully tugs the zipper down. His dick jumps at the barest touch of Castiel's fingers.
"You sure about this?" he asks, his desperate tone edged with very real concern. A warm sensation begins to glow in Castiel's chest. He knows Gabriel thinks he's a virgin, but it's not true. Castiel had a few fumbled sexual encounters before leaving Heaven with two different angels he'd known his whole life. In both those cases, despite their long acquaintance, Castiel never really felt they cared about the sex beyond the moment when they found release.
He does not feel that way now.
"Quite sure," Castiel says as he peels the edge of Dean's underwear down over his erection.
Castiel likes Dean's cock. It's very like his favorite toy. Perhaps a bit thicker and definitely warmer, but the same perfect length. Castiel wants to know how it'd feel buried deeply in his body, but that's not for today. Today, Castiel wants to taste. He leans down to flick his tongue along the tip.
He only takes a brief pause to register the dark musky flavor and the low moan that vibrates in Dean's chest before wrapping his lips around the head and sucking hard.
"Fuck," Dean hisses, reaching out with clench his fingers around the arches of Castiel's wings. The action sparks an instinctual motion from both wings. The left curls around Dean's leg while the right slips in behind his back and pulls, forcing Dean's cock deeper into Castiel's mouth. Dean makes another noise, this one a strangled wordless bit of nonsense that tingles at the base of Castiel's spine. His body grows warmer, his desire to please more urgent. The smooth hard muscles of Dean's stomach and legs tremble under the strain of his obvious pleasure and after holding off release while Castiel performed for him, Castiel thinks Dean must be very close. He hopes to have more chances to draw out Dean's pleasure, but now, Castiel just wants to make Dean come.
So he doesn't waste anytime. He grasps the front of Dean's shirt to steady himself before eagerly sucking the entire length of Dean's cock in his mouth. Dean only just holds back a startled jump, but Castiel taps his hip, hoping Dean understands his permission.
Obviously he does.
"God," Dean mutters as he begins thrusting his cock in and out of Castiel's mouth. Shallow and gentle thrusts, but still effectively fucking Castiel's face.
It's amazing. He loves the way Dean trusts that Castiel can take him, but remains aware of his comfort. He loves sharing this intimacy, being filled by Dean while surrounding him with feathers and soft touches and warm wet heat. Dean's fingers skip along Castiel's wings, stopping now and again to clutch and tug as he moans and curses.
"Fuck, Cas, yes," Dean babbles, his hips snapping ever faster. "So fucking good."
The urge to smile stretches his lips and causes his teeth to catch lightly at the head, a very light touch, but apparently a shock because Dean abruptly stiffens and groans as he spills into Castiel's mouth.
"Shit, shit, sorry," he says, trying to push Castiel away. Castiel lets him, more to ease Dean's worry than out of any of his own, and immediately begins stroking Dean again, root to tip, easing Dean through the rest of his release. His wings close harder around Dean, pulling him closer and Castiel lays his cheek against Dean's thigh, now thoroughly tired and relaxed, as if he'd come again himself. Dean slumps in the chair. His hands slide from Castiel's feathers down to his hair, his fingers carding through the strands slowly and softly.
"Cas?"
Castiel nuzzles Dean's spent cock and presses a light kiss to the base. "No one's ever called me 'Cas' before," he comments.
"Oh." One of Dean's hands rests on Castiel's head. "Is it okay?"
Taking Dean's other hand in his own, Castiel threads their fingers together.
"Yes."
Part 3
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 08:28 am (UTC)*flails, dying*
You need to post more of this. Now.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 09:15 am (UTC)Please say that there will be more of this, like yesterday.
*points to bunk* I'll be in it... trying to recover.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 09:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 11:02 am (UTC)The shifting points of view were too hot too handle. Wow
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 11:27 am (UTC)*looks at brain mass on the floor*
Now I gotta go and order a new brain, you turned mine to slush... and afterwards a cold shower!
Thank you for ensuring that my wing!Kink will never leave.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 11:54 am (UTC)I think hardcorewings.com needs to excist for real. like real. I need this in my life! XD
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 11:55 am (UTC)Dude! I just... wow. Just wow.
Please, for the love of my sanity, write more of this verse.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 12:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 01:35 pm (UTC)I think you broke my wing!kink button! <3
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 02:35 pm (UTC)Please post more of this!!! Please?!!
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 03:15 pm (UTC)I hope you'll write more of this,
and I need a subscription to the website!(*≧▽≦)no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 04:33 pm (UTC)THIS WAS SO HOT.
IT NEEDS A SEQUEL.
I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS.
PLEASE.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 07:08 pm (UTC)I need more... like... this second ♥♥
Hhhnnnnggg
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 07:12 pm (UTC)You're an amazing writer - no matter if it's 20 000 words of gen with plot or 20 000 words of porn with plot. Amazing.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 07:38 pm (UTC)Good lord there needs to be more of this. Like...yesterday.
*goes to mop up her brain that's melted out of her ears*
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 07:47 pm (UTC)I can't wait for more.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 08:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 09:18 pm (UTC)'*brain!spolsion*
That. Was epic.
I'll be in my bunk.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 09:20 pm (UTC)Just. FUCK.
i don't know that i can go to work now.. *SQUIRMS*
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 11:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 11:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-25 02:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-25 08:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-25 09:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-25 11:09 am (UTC)