One night later, the moonlight poured in at a different angle, cutting past the foot of Castiel’s bed and washing out the colours on his rug. Dean leaned in the shadows, as there were few other places to wait; besides that square of silver, the room was sunken in darkness.
The hiss of the shower faded, dripping...
Castiel took a while to brush his teeth, because he flossed too. Naked, Dean remained by the glass door, arms crossed, one bare foot kicked up on the wall.
As soon as Castiel left the bathroom, he exclaimed, “Oh helloh—-”
Dean smothered him with a kiss, hands in his hair, crotch pressed urgently against Castiel’s, only the bath towel between them. Dean turned his head, kissing harder, moaning. God, he wanted him so bad. He couldn’t think about anything else.
Castiel gasped, half-grinning. “Do I sense an implication?”
“Implying nothing,” Dean said breathlessly, backing onto the bed, sitting down, waiting for Cas to join him. “Let’s, uh... make out.”
Castiel chuckled, approaching slowly. “You look very attractive without clothes.”
With a charming grin, Dean reached and snuck his hand under the overlap of Castiel’s towel, and slid his hand into the humid warmth there. His fingertips found the tip of Castiel’s cock, and he pulled softly on his foreskin, plucking it. Castiel gasped, a shaky smile on his lips. His eyes gleamed with dots of silver, first set on Dean’s exploring arm, then meeting his gaze.
Castiel gulped, and undid his towel, dropping it to the floor. Without looking away from Dean, he crawled onto the bed with him, craning forward as Dean lay back, and they breathed together, noses inches apart, lips separated and licked wet. Dean nudged his nose closer, but didn’t make contact. Castiel exhaled, admiring Dean’s lips, his freckles...
Then he shut his eyes and kissed Dean, and Dean felt himself melt into the bed, purring deeply. Castiel’s hands snuck up his body, and Dean surged into his grip, crying, “Yeah! Auh.”
“Have you been waiting all day for me?” Castiel asked, his voice liquid gold gushing over black rock. “How badly do you want me to pleasure you?”
“Ah?” Dean shut his eyes and grinned. “Shit, Cas, you’re makin’ me tingly.”
“Good.” Castiel kissed Dean’s ear. “Good tingly?”
Dean nodded, smiling when he met Castiel’s amused gaze.
Castiel moved to lie down properly over the covers, and Dean lay beside him, moonlight flashing on their feet as they shifted to get comfortable. Dean gave himself over to Castiel’s kisses, letting himself be touched, held; Castiel slipped one hand between the pillow and Dean’s cheek, and the other wrapped around his waist, hand lowered to hold Dean’s ass. Legs entwined, Dean began to hump, just a little. Not enough to get him anywhere, just enough that it felt sexy.
“Mm. Mh,” Dean broke the kiss to stroke Castiel’s face, wanting to look into his eyes. “Ugh, you’re so pretty.”
Castiel chuckled, blushing as he lowered his eyes. “Thank you.”
“You are though,” Dean said. “The moon’s gettin’ your eyes just right. Sparkly.”
“Are you drunk?”
Dean laughed, kicking Cas gently. “Naw. Just in an appreciative mood.”
They sank back to kisses soon after, and that frantic energy Dean had brought in with him faded to a pleasant simmer, which he was happier to live with. Lust became comfort, and although he and Castiel both remained erect, softly pushing against each other as they lay on their sides, neither of them sought to do anything but kiss.
After a good ten minutes, Castiel smirked, lips parting from Dean’s with a huffed breath.
“What?” Dean smiled.
Castiel shrugged. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. You and me.”
“Is it weird?” Dean asked, curious. “‘Cause it’s a bit weird for me, not gonna lie.”
“It is strange, yes,” Castiel said. “But only because I care about you so much as a friend, and feeling – urges? – and wanting to touch you like this isn’t something I’m used to yet.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah. Me too. But. But it’s kinda nice too, right? It’s like we unlocked a secret level in the friendship game.”
“Usually,” Dean went on, ponderously, “even if I sleep with someone on the first date, I spend a good few hours getting to know them first. But you—” Dean chuckled, nuzzling Cas with his nose, making Cas scoff and squirm away, leading Dean to chase after him, kissing his neck and under his ear. “You. Hmmmm.” Dean took a breath, eyelashes grazing Castiel’s neck. “I’ve known you, lived with you for five years. I know everything about you.”
“I’m sure there are things you don’t know.”
“Like...” Castiel shifted down in the bed so his eyes were level with Dean’s, and they could cuddle and talk more easily. “Hm. Like the fact I...” Castiel laughed, “I wanted a mullet haircut growing up but the foster mom I had at the time wouldn’t let me.”
“I had a mullet!” Dean cried, before tipping his head back to laugh. “Shit, man, I must’ve looked so bad.”
“Hm, I beg to differ. I think any fashionable haircut looks fine so long as it’s contained within the appropriate era.”
Castiel kissed Dean’s nose. “Really. Besides, I think you have the sort of face that could pull off a mullet quite well.”
Dean kept grinning, happy to let Castiel kiss his neck for a few quiet, pleasant minutes.
“What about me?” Dean mumbled, as Castiel nibbled his shoulder. “What, uh. What secrets do you wanna know?”
Castiel lifted his head to look into Dean’s eyes. “Do you keep secrets from me?”
Dean rolled a shoulder. “A few.”
“Tell me one.”
Dean immediately blushed. “Crap.”
Castiel laughed. “You shouldn’t have brought it up if you didn’t want to share. Now I’m curious.”
Dean groaned, rolling Castiel over, pressing him down with all his weight. “No,” he whispered into his ear.
“Please?” Castiel replied, grinning against the sheets as Dean wrestled him into a motionless body lock, face-down on the mattress. “Pretty please?”
Dean chortled, headbutting Castiel’s back. “Only if you let me put my dick between your thighs.”
Castiel tried to look back but couldn’t. “Is that a thing? Thigh sex?”
“You... didn’t know that?”
Castiel shrugged. “I don’t watch porn.”
“Dude, I didn’t learn it from porn.” Dean kissed Castiel’s back. “Seriously, though. Yes or no?”
Dean bit his lip and pushed between Castiel’s thighs, groaning lowly, relaxing.
A minute passed. He kept pushing, his rhythm slow, his weight steady, his hands holding Castiel’s ribs, occasionally putting kisses on his shoulder. All he could think about was the wording of his secret, how to say it so Cas wouldn’t laugh, wouldn’t think too differently of him afterwards. Shimmers of pink and satin kept rushing up in his mind but he couldn’t describe how he felt about it.
“God. No. I can’t.” Dean sighed on Castiel’s back. “I know exactly what I wanna tell you about but I can’t say it.”
“What’s it about?”
Dean went quiet, blushing.
In the extended silence, Castiel said, “May I tell you a secret of my own, then?”
He tried to roll over, so Dean let him, and they embraced once more, Dean’s fist around Castiel’s cock as they snuggled. Slowly stroking him, Dean waited to hear the secret.
Castiel licked his lips and looked away. “Sometimes I wonder— I think...” He looked down at his erection in Dean’s fist, then placed a warm palm over Dean’s heart, soothing himself. “I think I might not be completely a man.”
Dean grinned. “What? What’s that mean?”
Castiel shrugged a tense shoulder. “I, um. I— I don’t feel much connection to being... ‘manly’. Or male. I don’t know, it’s silly. It’s just that when you call me ‘dude’ or ‘man’ it takes me a moment to remember that that’s me. Or it’s what I’m supposed to be, anyway. Realising you mean me is always a shock.”
Concerned, Dean asked, “Wait, am I not meant to call you ‘dude’?”
Castiel hesitated before shrugging. “I don’t mind it. It just doesn’t feel like me.”
Dean looked down at Castiel’s cock, slipping his thumb over the slit. “Is having a dick, like – upsetting for you?”
“Oh—? Oh, no-no, it’s nothing like that,” Castiel smiled. “I’m comfortable with how I look and function. It’s just... inside. Although sometimes I do wonder if I have the confidence to wear a dress.”
Dean burst out laughing, headbutting Castiel’s chest. “Cas— Oh m— Hahah—”
Castiel complained, “I’m not joking, Dean. This was very personal for me.”
“It’s not that, I—” Dean was still snickering when he lifted his head. He pressed a soft kiss to Castiel’s lips, then said, so easily, “I wanna wear panties.”
“Panties. You know. Frilly pink ladies’ underwear?” Dean bit his lip and grinned widely, feeling himself glowing in Castiel’s presence. “That was my secret. Seems super hot to me.”
Dean shrugged. “I tried it a few times. But mostly I just fantasise.”
“I fantasise a lot too.”
“About wearing dresses?”
Castiel was blushing now, but nodded. “It’s not... ‘hot’. But it is exciting.”
“Aw.” Dean let go of Cas’ dick and wrapped his arms around his friend, kissing his shoulder. “God, you’re such a sweetheart.”
Castiel cuddled back, and Dean felt his smile amongst the stubble pressed to his skin.
They held on for so long that their erections both faded, and Dean’s slow breathing led him halfway to sleep. He only stirred when he felt Castiel kiss his cheek, murmuring, “Do you still want to have sex?”
Dean blinked a few times, peering into those gorgeous blue eyes, a haze of moonlight around Castiel’s elegant form. “I kinda like cuddling.”
Castiel nodded, bending to kiss Dean’s lips. “Tomorrow, then.”
Dean smiled. “‘Kay.” He booped Castiel’s nose with a fingertip. “Not-dude.”
Castiel grinned, rolling his eyes. They did some wriggling to get under the covers, and then Castiel wrapped himself snug around Dean’s back.
Dean wondered for a minute about whether it meant something that he’d come in here to fuck his roommate and was somehow equally satisfied by a personal chat and a cuddle, but decided it implied nothing more than the obvious: Dean liked cuddling. Cas was his best friend. They were close. They had a connection that ran miles deeper than physical attraction, so that made it okay.
It was fine that Dean lay awake in Cas’ arms for over an hour, playing with his fingers, happier and more content than he’d been in months. It didn’t mean anything at all.
Eventually Castiel’s stomach growled, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh. He rolled over and checked the time on Castiel’s cellphone. Nearly midnight.
“Hey.” Dean kissed Castiel’s hand. “You hungry?”
“Hhhh. Alright. Let’s get up. And we can come back after. Snuggle some more. Then sleep.”
Dean sat up. “C’mon. I’ll make us a snack.”
·· · ·· ♡ ·· · ··
Besides the first change in their relationship that occurred on Friday, and the snuggling on Saturday night, the Sunday that followed would have been uneventful, were it not for the peanut butter.
Castiel was on the hunt for a job, so had his nose in his laptop every waking hour, looking away only to check his phone. Now that his previous employer had shipped the entire apiary south, there weren’t too many beekeeping jobs left in this part of the state – even in midsummer, which was prime beekeeping season – so he was making sure to include non-profit volunteer spots, scientific research opportunities, and topic-relevant freelance writing in his search fields. Any time he wasn’t scouring job listings, he was replying to emails, printing resumes, making business cards that said ‘Castiel Tippens | Beekeeping Expert’ on them, or lying back on the couch, yanking at his hairline and trying not to kick the window.
Dean got most weekends off from his job at Boston Sanctuary Zoo. Usually he’d spend his time out on a trip with his current partner(s), or otherwise mowing the lawn, washing dishes, paying bills, and folding laundry. As he presently had nowhere to go and no-one to go there with, his Sunday morning disappeared the boring way: amongst paperwork and a run to the grocery store.
At least he came home with peanut butter, which Castiel had been requesting only when distracted, but forgot about any time he approached a shopping list with a pen.
Folding up an empty paper bag, Dean called past the wooden pillar, “Once you’re done clawing your eyes out, you want a snack?”
Castiel sat up with a sigh, looking tired. His eyes were half-closed, his mouth a flat line. His face was flushed from his sudden movement, but he soon returned to his summer tan, piercing blue eyes turned Dean’s way.
“I heard a peanut butter jar hit the shelf,” Castiel said.
Dean grinned. “P-B-n’-J?”
Dean washed his hands, and hummed to himself as he fetched two plates and set out two slices of chunky grain bread for two identical sandwiches. He pushed the peanut butter to the edges, and made sure the jelly covered all of it before he lowered the next slice of bread down like he was landing a spaceship.
He cut the sandwiches into triangles just as Castiel came into the kitchen.
The only window in the kitchen faced the balcony, where Castiel’s killer bees buzzed around in the blue shade of mid-afternoon. Strong gold came streaking down through the skylight, however, and Dean rubbed the back of his neck as he put down his sandwich knife, feeling the prickle of heat on his skin.
Wait... Only one thing made his hair stand up like that.
Dean’s lashes fluttered, and he looked at Castiel, smiling. “You’re staring. What’re you staring at?”
Castiel had leaned back against the counter, a coy look in his eyes. He checked Dean out, then looked into his eyes. “All of you.”
Dean blushed, reaching to pat Castiel’s bicep, hand dragging lower to touch the skin where his sleeves were rolled up. Dean pulled back – but Castiel followed, and Dean almost hiccuped in surprise as he found himself kissed.
“Oh,” he breathed, smiling. “Okay. Hi.”
“Hi.” Castiel’s eyes lingered on Dean’s lips. “I believe,” he said, “unless I’m much mistaken, Dean, we have some sex we need to be doing immediately.”
Dean’s lips parted, his chest suddenly tight. “Uh. Uh. Uhohhokay. Um. H’m-mh.” He shut his eyes and relaxed into Castiel’s kisses, because they came soft and fast and eager, and Dean wasn’t one to argue when he was given nice things.
Guided by Castiel’s desires, Dean’s lower back bumped the counter. While intimately engaged in their heated kiss, he reached behind him and pushed the sandwich plates out of the way – knife too.
Castiel, noticing the counter had been cleared, stepped back. Dean took a dazed moment to breathe, licking the swell of his lips, then rubbing his hand over his mouth. Lowering his palm, he revealed a grin – which turned into a pleased ‘o’ as Castiel unbuckled his pants and out flopped his half-hard cock.
Dean was ready to hear an instruction, but he received none. Castiel simply bent past him, rested his elbows and forearms on the counter, stuck his ass out, and waited with pink cheeks and bright eyes.
Dean gaped at Castiel’s bare ass.
“Y-You want... what, exactly?”
Castiel shrugged. “Surprise me.”
Dean huffed out a giddy grin. He gave Cas a light slap. “What is it, my birthday?”
“Or mine,” Castiel said. He tried to turn and see what Dean was doing, but Dean had dropped too low. “What are you going toUUHHHH—”
Dean sank his tongue deep between Castiel’s cheeks, mouth open, face burning but somehow feeling cool as he pressed between hotter buttocks. Castiel’s hole was wrinkled and tight, perfectly clean. So clean, in fact, that he tasted like lavender soap. Cas’ hands had gripped the side of the counter, thighs shaking. He couldn’t spread his legs as his jeans were half-down, but Dean buried his face in those plump, fleshy mounds, happy to be smothered by them.
“Dean,” Castiel rasped. “Oh, fuck. Fuck.”
Dean gripped Castiel’s calves as he nosed deeper, sniffing in a breath, hurling it under Castiel’s legs. The heat and the humidity made Castiel wail, and he damn near collapsed onto the counter. Dean could feel him trembling, heard him slam the counter with a fist.
Dean pulled back to grin. “You havin’ a good time up there?”
Castiel nodded but couldn’t speak. “Y— Hih— Hmmmm, Dehhhh...”
Dean lifted his hands and pulled Castiel’s buttocks apart, sinking his tongue in and wriggling it firmly. Castiel sobbed, clenching his hole, then relaxing.
Part of Dean wondered, even at a time like this, if other guys did this for their roommates. Dean couldn’t imagine why not, if not. Was freaking hot. Forget the P-B-n’-J; Cas was the tastier snack.
Without warning, Castiel pushed Dean away by the forehead. Dean backed up and got to his feet, expecting a stern word, but Castiel only stomped off his socks, wrenched his jeans and underwear off – then – holy shit – he hopped butt-first up onto the counter, put his heels up there, leaned back against the wall tiles, and bit his bottom lip. He had a deeply desperate, wanton look in his eyes.
Dean only took a split-second to admire him up there, navy buttondown shucked up to his navel, erection leaving a wet spot in the cloth; brown inner thighs, a deep perineum, soft, wrinkly scrotum hanging down in the middle. Dean huffed out a grin, then rushed to kiss Cas on the lips – smooch, smooch, bite – then groaned and lowered his head, kissing down Castiel’s cock from the head to the base, gulping down his balls, mouth wide—
Castiel breathed, a strain in his gasps. He was tense as anything, but relaxed his hips enough to rock, rock, presenting himself for Dean over and over.
Dean had to crouch a little to have his mouth meet Castiel’s hole, but he did it, and Castiel shrieked low, one hand seizing a handful of Dean’s hair, the other turning white on the edge of the counter. Dean slapped his own hand atop Castiel’s, holding onto him as he licked and sucked and tongue-fucked him to climax.
It wasn’t hard to do, really. Cas wheezed a few times, his cock bumping on his navel without a touch. Dean twisted his tongue and shut his eyes, moaning slowly so Castiel could feel the vibration, and that was all it took; the next time Dean opened his eyes, Cas had splattered his blue shirt with translucent white, his cock was shivering and wet at the tip. His expression detailed intense exhaustion, and he panted slower, slower, coming down from his peak.
Task now complete, Dean rose, sucking on his lower lip. His eyes met Castiel’s, and they shared an embarrassed, surprised sort of smile. Thank God, Dean thought. It wasn’t just him who was continually astounded that they had this kind of chemistry.
He helped Cas down from the counter with a steady hand, another pressed to his lower back.
For five years they’d been reliable companions for one another. They’d had mental breakdowns in each other’s presence, hugged for ten minutes when nobody was looking, watched movies that made them both cry, gone out to the yard to burn an old journal in a bucket; they’d given each other back rubs, undocumented financial loans, and two-minute DIY birthday cards; they’d shoved food in each other’s mouths; they’d drunkenly made each other pee in random people’s gardens on the way home from wherever they’d gotten drunk. They’d swapped beds for a week to check if they’d chosen the right rooms, then played rock-paper-scissors in the end because Castiel’s room was obviously superior. They’d done it all. As friends. Friends. Platonically. What the hell happened that changed it all?
Dean stood silently in the kitchen, on fire in a sunbeam, holding Castiel’s eyes as Cas slipped his hand into Dean’s underwear, rubbing one out for him.
They said nothing. Just watched each other.
Dean shivered as he came, one hand holding Castiel’s bicep, the other gripped in Cas’ wet shirt. A slow, relieved breath flew from Dean’s rounded lips, and he nodded, telling Cas he was satisfied. He didn’t care he’d only lasted a minute. Somehow it didn’t matter at all.
Castiel picked up his jeans and put them back on, buckling them up with his head down.
Dean zipped his own pants and washed his hands and face and mouth in the kitchen sink. He felt Castiel pat his back, then disappear for a minute to wash in the bathroom. Dean made a mental note to spray the counters down with disinfectant later.
Taking the two sandwiches to the dining table, Dean sat, staring at the food.
Eventually Castiel came to sit by him.
Their eyes met.
“Were you always attracted to me?” Dean asked.
Castiel lifted a triangle sandwich. He wasted no time denying anything – what would be the point? It was obvious they had something ferocious between them, pretending that same something had been tamed was useless.
“To be honest I only considered that I might be sexually attracted to you very recently,” Castiel said. “I could never think of a good reason to test, to confirm whether or not it was something I wanted to act on – until you said you kissed Autumn’s neck wrong. And then I couldn’t stop myself from asking. And then I didn’t care to stop.”
Dean smiled, taking the first bite of his food. “I think I only realised it when we kissed. I mean, it was obvious you were hot before then. But I only started wanting you when you kissed me.”
They shared a long look, both smiling.
“You make a good sandwich,” Castiel said quietly, eyes down.
A devilish smirk rose up one side of Dean’s face. “So do you.”
Castiel caught his eyes – and Dean had never seen anyone blush as much as Cas did, right then.
Oh. What a fucking treat he was.
Dean couldn’t wait to get another taste.
·· · ·· ♡ ·· · ··