Chapter Text
Castiel had known Balthazar since they were both pimple-plagued pre-teens trying to navigate the world of burgeoning hormones as young, queer boys growing up in a small town. Despite their disparate personalities, Balthazar was still Castiel’s best friend at forty.
Which was the only reason Castiel wasn’t strangling him.
“Balthazar, I have no idea why you felt compelled to do this, but my answer is no.”
Balthazar scoffed, unperturbed, and slid Castiel’s phone from his grip, dancing away when Castiel tried to grab it back. “Oh, please, Cassie, this is getting ridiculous. I’ve already done all the work for you. All you have to do is scan through the specimens and make your choice.”
“I don’t need any help, Baz!” Castiel grumbled, reaching for his phone again as Balthazar deftly entered his code.
“Right, the forty-year-old bachelor doesn’t need any help with dating,” Balthazar quipped. A few quick taps and swipes, and then Balthazar held his phone up so Castiel could see the screen, but still held it out of his grasp. “Ah ah, take a look before you so blithely decide to destroy my hard work.”
Castiel rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and squinting at the screen.
“Do you need your reading glasses, darling?”
Castiel shot Balthazar a look. He glared at the yellow and black color scheme of the profile in front of him, but he had to admit that at least Balthazar had picked a good picture.
“Where did you get that photo?” he asked. He was standing under soft amber lighting, hands tucked into the pockets of his jet-black tuxedo, head tossed back in laughter in profile to the camera. He didn’t remember ever having this picture taken.
“Hannah had it in their phone, from the donors’ gala last year. I did my research, no need to worry. Take a look at your profile.”
Castiel squinted at the small box in the top left corner. “At least you didn’t lie about my age,” he conceded.
“Of course not. You’ve officially reached ‘daddy’ status, I would hardly do anything to delegitimize you.”
The “looking for” section listed friendship, dates, or relationships, though that was stretching the truth. Castiel knew exactly what Balthazar was angling for when he created this. In fact, the smaller box at the bottom of the screen contained suspiciously few words, and Castiel growled.
“‘Flexible bottom seeks gentle top for a good time’? Really, Balthazar?!”
Balthazar simply shrugged, turning the phone back around. “You can’t lie to me, Castiel, I’ve seen your dildo collection.” Castiel blushed. “And besides, you want to make sure anyone who messages you isn’t looking to rail you into next Tuesday. I know how long it’s been.”
“I am not hooking up through Grindr,” Castiel huffed, snatching his phone back from Balthazar. He backed out of his profile and was immediately accosted with rows upon rows of profile pictures, each emblazoned with the number of feet away they were. Panic gripped Castiel’s heart. “For fuck’s sake, Balthazar, what if one of my students is on here?”
“Relax, I made sure to filter for age. No one under the age of thirty allowed.”
Castiel’s heart rate slowed as he idly scrolled through the pictures, then rolled his eyes again and locked his phone. He would have to change his password again. “I appreciate the effort, Baz—”
“No you don’t.”
“However,” Castiel continued, “I am not interested. As I’ve said at least once every six months since we turned sixteen: please refrain from interfering in my love life.”
Balthazar looked sad, clapping a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I just want you to be happy, Cas.”
Castiel smiled softly. “I am. You worry too much, my friend.”
Balthazar looked like he had more to say, but thankfully refrained from saying it. They shared another glass of wine while finishing the episode of “Great British Bake Off” Balthazar had interrupted to show Castiel his new Grindr profile, and then Balthazar left. Friday night routine complete, Castiel cleaned up the wine remnants and went to change into his pajamas.
As he tucked himself into bed and peeled the plastic off the latest edition of his favorite academic journal, suddenly his apartment felt too quiet, a little too empty. He sighed, glancing at his phone on the charging plate next to his bed. The screen was dark, but Castiel had to admit he was a little tempted. Would anyone message him? He should just delete it, especially thinking about who might be on there to see . . .
He needed to delete it. Nerves getting the better of him, he swiped his phone from the charger and opened the app. There were a number of profiles displaying as less than two hundred feet from him, but he ignored them to flip through the screens to find a way to deactivate his profile. He’d managed to find the button to edit when his phone flashed with a notification. Someone had messaged him.
Castiel’s finger hovered over the “edit” button as he stared at the notification. Perhaps this was a sign? Someone was interested enough to send a message, which, given the tone of the whole thing, was immensely flattering. He moved his thumb over the notification, hesitating, before he finally took a deep breath and tapped it.
The message screen popped up immediately, the profile picture showing a well-defined chest and cut abs, clearly taken in a bathroom mirror but only from the neck down. Castiel’s libido sparked in interest despite himself, though he knew that there was no way to know if the picture actually showed the man who owned the profile. The body of the message itself read:
hey
Castiel hesitated on how to reply. Should he respond with “hello?” Would that be too pedantic? Perhaps he should ask about the man’s profile, find a way to see if it was real? The man’s username was “Luke,” it listed his age as thirty-five, and there was a series of vaguely decipherable shorthand in the profile description that Castiel assumed translated to all his sexual interests.
While Castiel hesitated, another message came through.
Ur hottt
Complete with three “t”s in a row. Castiel rolled his eyes. That kind of “text speech” always reminded him of his students, far too lazy or too prone to habitually shorten already brief words. Perhaps they were necessary ten years ago when texts were limited by character and charged at ten cents a message, but now you could draft a novel and it wouldn’t make a difference.
U there??
Castiel’s fingers hesitated over the keys before finally typing out:
Hello, how are you this evening?
He hit send before he could overthink it.
Rly want ur mouth on my cock
. . .
U host?
Castiel’s mouth went a little dry. It had been a very long time since he’d been intimate with anyone—Balthazar’s comment about being a bachelor notwithstanding, he was far from inexperienced—but he couldn’t quite bring himself to commit to something this . . . impersonal.
Another message appeared, this time of a thick, erect penis, a hand wrapped around his base. The camera angle wasn’t great, but based on the size of the man’s hand, he was averagely endowed and unremarkable. Castiel frowned. A dick pic wasn’t entirely unexpected, but suddenly the absurdity of the entire situation hit him all at once.
Thank you, but I’m not interested.
He closed the app with finality and sighed deeply before setting his phone back on the charger. He might as well keep the app for a few days; Balthazar would likely be on to his next scheme to get Castiel laid by then. That didn’t mean he had to use it. Besides, Balthazar was surely checking in to make sure he still had an active profile from his own.
Castiel was far too old for the hookup culture at this point. Balthazar would have to just get over himself.
“Happy birthday, Cas!”
Castiel raised his glass in the toast, gently clinking it together with the others’. He sipped lightly at his wine, though Balthazar drank more deeply, and Charlie threw back an entire shot of some clear liquid. Vodka: it was too early for tequila shots. Hannah caught his eye with a smirk as they, too, sipped from their pink-tinted Manhattan. Castiel appreciated whenever Hannah joined them for their outings because Balthazar usually had to be poured into an Uber at the end of the night, and Charlie ended up insisting that they all go down the street to her favorite club, though Castiel usually declined. Hannah would stay to finish a drink with him before parting ways for the night. More than once, Castiel had questioned whether he should reexamine his feelings for them (and more than once Hannah had hinted romantic interest), but ever since Castiel had met them at new faculty orientation ten years ago, there had only been platonic feelings there.
“To forty-one!” Charlie cheered, inviting another toast before polishing off another shot.
“And to your new grant!” Hannah added, saluting Castiel from across the table.
“Yes, forty-one and still perpetually single!” Balthazar crowed.
“Aww, he can’t help that he’s picky,” Charlie teased.
“Castiel is just waiting for the right person,” Hannah said.
“Thank you, Hannah.”
“Yes, and yet he has not been taking advantage of the perfect opportunity I provided him,” Balthazar droned.
“Oh, no, Cas, did you let Baz set you up?” Charlie groaned. Castiel cleared his throat.
“Not quite.”
“Please, Red, ye of such little faith. I simply provided Castiel with the means to find a way to become partnered this late in adulthood through contemporary, technological means.”
“He made me a Grindr profile,” Castiel interpreted. Hannah huffed indignantly, but Charlie burst out laughing.
“Classy, Balthazar,” Hannah said while Charlie continued to giggle.
“Okay, seriously, we gotta see it,” Charlie said, holding a hand out for Castiel’s phone.
“No, absolutely not.”
“C’mon, Cas, you know I can just find it later on my own.” She raised her brow as he stared her down. It was the knowledge that she could do far more damage later on her own that had him unlocking his phone and sliding it over. Charlie’s eyebrows hit the ceiling.
“Whoa! You’ve got, like, fifty messages in here! Have you checked these?”
“I haven’t logged in since the day Balthazar told me about it.”
Charlie’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Damn! I mean, I’m 100% all about the ladies, but some of these guys are objectively hot! Also: gross. So many dicks. Why are guys like this?”
“To each their own, Red,” Balthazar quipped slyly, sipping on his drink. Charlie stuck her tongue out at him.
“Are you seriously considering hooking up with one of these men, Castiel?” Hannah asked, looking over Charlie’s shoulder as she scrolled through the messages.
“No, he isn’t, because our beloved Cassie is a bloody prude,” Balthazar snapped.
“Baz, don’t be a dick,” Charlie replied, without heat.
“Picky is not prudish,” Hannah added.
Castiel stared into his drink. Balthazar was wrong, of course, but the fact remained: he was forty-one now and unpartnered, rapidly approaching old age alone.
“Maybe I’ll get a cat,” Castiel offered.
“You know, that is the final thing to push you right over the edge into the ‘aging queen’ stereotype,” Balthazar hummed.
“That’s enough,” Hannah said with finality. Balthazar shrugged, but didn’t say anything more.
Charlie managed to change the subject, but Castiel found himself stuck half in a melancholy mood. He smiled and laughed through the rest of the evening, but as they were parting ways on the sidewalk outside of the bar, he couldn’t help but sink into it a little. Charlie threw herself at him and hugged him tightly.
“Happy birthday, Cas!” she said. He kissed her on the top of the head and hugged back.
“Thanks, Charlie,” he said, smiling at her as she gave him her traditional Vulcan salute on her way down the street to meet up with some of her other friends.
“Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud,” Balthazar said as he kissed both of his cheeks in farewell. “It doesn’t have to be true love, you know. Sometimes it’s better if it isn’t.”
“I’m aware of the concept of casual sex, Balthazar,” Castiel replied. Balthazar blew Hannah a kiss before climbing into his cab. Hannah had their arms crossed over their chest and fixed Castiel with a stare.
“There isn’t anything wrong with you, you know,” they said. “If you don’t want to have casual sex, or any sex at all, that is none of Balthazar’s business.”
Castiel smiled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Hannah’s cheek, which they returned. “I know. Thank you, Hannah.”
They didn’t seem convinced, but blessedly no more was said on the subject. “Have a good night, Castiel,” Hannah said as they turned to walk toward their apartment.
“Good night,” Castiel called before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. The September night air was sharp and crisp, the scents of the city washing over him as he made his way back toward his apartment. In the quiet night, though, he couldn’t help but think over Balthazar’s teasing suggestions. He’d spent a long time building his career, but as he entered his early forties, he settled into a quieter, less frantic era. He still had a book to finish, but since he earned promotion it isn’t necessarily the same “publish-or-perish” situation he’d been in just a few years ago.
He was lonely. As difficult as it was to admit, it was true.
Walking home that night, though, he wondered if he was truly seeking a relationship, or if he just needed to feel human connection again? He pondered the question as he arrived home and changed into comfortable clothes for the night. Sitting on the sofa he opened his phone, pulling up the Grindr app, still open to his messages. While most of them were old, a few had popped up a few hours ago while he was out from men who had been in nearby bars, but as he was looking through them a new one came in. Out of sheer curiosity, he opened it.
The profile picture was of a handsome, smiling man standing on a beach wearing a ridiculously tiny pair of peach-colored swim shorts and an enormous pair of aviator sunglasses. Castiel felt his heart race as he studied the grin, the splash of freckles splayed over his nose and cheeks, and the sunlight playing through light brown hair. It was difficult to tell in the sunlight, but there might have been a few streaks of grey at the man’s temples. He was fit, but not overly so, his chest and abs shadowed by the angle of the sun, and a sparse dusting of hair lay in a triangle over his sternum and trailing down toward his shorts. And, there: that made sense for a hook-up app profile. Castiel felt arousal stir as he looked over the attractive bulge cupped in the light-colored swim trunks.
“Dean” the profile read. Forty-seven, looking for dates and friends. “New in town” was all that the lower box said, framed just below that incredibly enticing package.
With an enthusiasm Castiel refused to acknowledge, he clicked back into the message, hoping to find something promising there. He couldn’t help but grin at what he saw.
Okay, so gotta know: what’s a secret agent doing on an app like this?
Castiel found himself immediately replying.
What gave me away?
Nobody but Bond looks that good in a tux.
It isn’t as impressive as the shorts.
See, now that’s not fair. As much as I love the tux, you’ve got me at a disadvantage.
Castiel chewed his lip. He didn’t have any pictures that showed as much as Dean’s; he’d have to take one, and how should he do that? There was a full-length mirror in his bathroom, and the lighting wasn’t bad, but wasn’t that tacky? And what should he wear?
Oh man.
Sorry.
Didn’t mean to freak you out.
I’ve been told I come on too strong.
Castiel smiled at the rapid-fire apologies and made a decision.
It’s okay.
Give me a moment.
He pushed himself from the sofa and went to his bedroom. He fished through his underwear drawer until he found the ridiculous, tiny silk boxer shorts Balthazar had bought him for Christmas last year claiming the electric blue would bring out his eyes. He slipped out of his pajamas and slid them on, adjusting his rapidly chubbing cock into the pouch in front so it was framed nicely. He looked around the room for the moment, wondering if he should add anything else before his gaze fell on his favorite blue silk tie and the birthday hat from the celebration at work today. Feeling slightly giddy, he looped the tie around his neck and placed the hat on his head at an angle. He quickly headed into the bathroom and adjusted everything until he worried he was taking too long and Dean would lose interest. He turned to the full-length mirror and angled his phone so that the picture would catch all of him but wouldn’t hide any of his features. He took three, until he finally was satisfied with one and sent it before he could stop himself.
Castiel waited for the reply, but when it didn’t come through immediately he went back into his room and started to take off the ridiculous outfit. He nearly jumped when his phone buzzed with a notification.
Okay, now I gotta see the back view.
Castiel chewed on his lip before managing to reply.
You first.
A few moments passed. Castiel started to understand Dean’s panicked messages earlier and had begun writing his own apologetic reply in his head when a picture came through.
It was a bathroom mirror selfie, just like Castiel’s, clearly taken in a hotel room. Dean had turned his back completely to the mirror, strong muscles visible beneath tan skin dusted in freckles. Just visible above the counter was Dean’s ass cupped appealingly in a pair of fashionable red cotton briefs trimmed in white.
Your turn, sweetheart.
Castiel blushed, despite being alone. He readjusted his shorts and went back into the bathroom. He turned his back to the mirror, twisting just enough so that he could get his own picture. His ass did look really good in the shorts, he thought blithely as he sent the picture off. It didn’t take long to get a reply.
Fuck, can we meet? Wanna get my hands on you really bad.
Castiel worked to control his breathing. Was he going to do this? He was no stranger to one-night-stands, but it had really been since grad school that he’d indulged in one. The last time he’d gotten laid was nearly five years ago now, and that wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on. He was forty-one years old today.
If he was really going to do this, what better night than tonight?
Okay. Roadhouse on tenth?
Uh, how about Blue? Over on Hill Street.
Castiel wondered about the hesitation. He’d been to Blue before; it was an upscale bar where businessmen went in suits and spent a lot of time talking in hushed tones. It wasn’t usually his speed, but if Dean was new in town maybe he didn’t know much.
Sounds good.
Be there in thirty?
Castiel wondered if he’d have time to get ready by then, but if he called the Uber now, he could get ready in the meantime.
Castiel sent his agreement before pulling up the Uber app and ordering a car. He spent ten minutes desperately cleaning any important bits before pulling the blue shorts back on and dressing in the outfit he’d worn to go out with his friends earlier. He barely remembered to send off a quick text with a screenshot of Dean’s profile to Charlie before hopping in the car and heading off to his destination.
Charlie sent back a series of exclamation points, but Castiel didn’t reply. He was too busy trying to calm his nerves on his way to the bar.
Was he really going to do this? He didn’t have to decide right away. He could always apologize to Dean and try again another time. And delete that stupid app from his phone.
The car pulled up to Blue and Castiel started to panic. This was a bad idea. But he couldn’t just ask the car to turn around and take him home. He’d go inside, see if Dean was there, then he could call another car if he wanted to. No pressure.
His phone buzzed, but it was just a text from Charlie. Go get ‘em, tiger! she said. Castiel couldn’t help but smile a little.
The inside of Blue was, well, blue. It was a small, sterile place decorated in white plexiglass and shining chrome, but every surface was lit with various shades of blue lighting. He slipped inside and glanced around the small space, but it seemed he’d beat Dean there. Or, maybe Dean wasn’t coming.
He ordered a whiskey at the bar, then found a place to sit at a high-top where he could see the door. The atmosphere was subdued, cool jazz playing in the background while the well-dressed patrons sipped martinis and chatted quietly among themselves. Castiel nursed his whiskey for long enough that he started to wonder if Dean was even going to show. He’d pulled his phone back out and was bringing up the Uber app when the door opened and a tall, handsome figure walked in.
The first thing Castiel noticed was the breathtaking smile that broke out across Dean’s face when their eyes met. With relief, he realized the picture had been real, though immediately after that he felt his mouth go completely dry. Dean was even more gorgeous in person. As he approached, Castiel noticed that there were laugh lines crinkling the corners of his eyes and at the corners of his lips, and just a hint of grey hair along his temples, but other than that there was no way this perfect man could be forty-seven. The blue light obscured the true color of his eyes, but his freckles stood out starkly on his skin and Castiel felt the urge to kiss every one of them. He realized too late that he was staring, but Dean just grinned.
“Wow, even hotter in person,” Dean said with a wink. Castiel gaped like a fish.
“I was just thinking the same,” Castiel said. Dean laughed, a light, pleasant sound, before holding out a hand for Castiel to shake.
“I’m Dean,” he said, voice rough and deep, but his hand was soft when Castiel shook it.
“Castiel,” he replied.
“Well, what do you say, Cas? Want to finish your drink, or do you think maybe we could head back to my place?”
“I might be amenable,” Castiel said softly.
Dean, it turned out, was staying in a fancy downtown hotel just a few blocks from the bar. They didn’t talk much on their way, but at one point Dean reached out and slipped his hand into Castiel’s back pocket. Castiel’s pulse kicked up and he wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist in return.
They were on each other before the hotel room door even closed. Dean pressed Castiel up against it, clicking it shut, with firm pressure, but without violence. Castiel shuddered as Dean’s body pressed slowly, firmly into his own from hips to shoulders. Dean’s mouth hovered an inch above his own, their rapidly accelerating breath mingling together. Castiel’s gaze flickered between Dean’s eyes—green, they were impossibly green—and his wet, plush bottom lip as Dean reached down and wrapped his hands around Castiel’s wrists. Slowly, very slowly, Dean dragged Castiel’s wrists up the door until they were pinned over his head. Castiel’s breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling against Dean’s, air thickening around them.
“Can I kiss you, Cas?” Dean breathed.
“Yes,” Castiel hissed, and then Dean’s mouth was on him, devouring him. Castiel let out a tiny whimper, his fingers flexing against nothing as Dean held him fast against the door. As they sank their weight into each other, Dean brushed Castiel’s palms and then laced their fingers together. Castiel grasped onto Dean’s hands tightly as Dean plundered his mouth, thumbs rubbing soothing circles along the inside of his wrists. Castiel practically melted at the touch, whining as Dean pulled back to rest their foreheads together.
“Damn, you’re good at that,” Dean said. Castiel chuckled.
“You aren’t too bad, either,” he replied. Dean grinned.
“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, Cas, anybody ever tell you that?” Dean whispered, nudging Castiel’s jaw so that he exposed the soft, tender skin of his throat. Castiel gasped as Dean pressed tiny, fluttering kisses into the pulse point there. Castiel ached with the need to touch.
“Please, Dean,” he groaned, “let me—I want to touch you.”
“Fuck yeah,” Dean agreed, and then suddenly Castiel’s hands were free to roam. He immediately grabbed Dean’s ass and pulled their hips tight together, driving his rock-hard cock into the crease of Dean’s thigh. Dean moaned and dropped his head back.
“Ah, shit,” Dean hissed, grinding his own dick against Castiel’s pelvis. “Could you come like this, Cas?” Dean teased as Castiel drove his cock into Dean’s hip, the slick slide of pre-come against the silk of his boxers driving him further toward release. Castiel nodded into Dean’s neck, and Dean huffed a breathless laugh. “Gonna come all over yourself, just from grinding on me? You want me that bad?”
“Yes,” Castiel panted. “Want you. To come for you.”
Dean lost his grip at that, shifting just enough to let the pressure up a little and Castiel whined at the loss. “Don’t worry, beautiful, I got better plans,” Dean said, stroking gently over Castiel’s cheekbone. Castiel shivered. Dean pressed another soft kiss into the hinge of his jaw, then breathed hot in his ear, “Gonna bury my cock in that perfect ass of yours.”
“That,” Castiel agreed. “I want that.”
Dean laughed, then kissed Castiel’s lips again, ever so gently, sucking Castiel’s lower lip into his mouth and worrying it slightly between his teeth. He pulled back, and Castiel must have looked as dazed as he felt because Dean let out a small laugh at the sight. “Come on,” he said, taking Castiel’s hand and leading him further into the hotel room.
It was a small suite, with a sitting room and kitchenette, a closed door that presumably led to the bathroom, and an open door that led into a sizeable room with an enormous king-sized bed. Castiel wondered briefly what Dean did for a living that would bring him to town into such nice accommodations.
But this was clearly not that kind of hook-up. Castiel had barely taken two steps into the bedroom before Dean was behind him, strong arms wrapped around his middle and rock-hard cock slotting between his cheeks. Castiel sighed, reaching back to tangle a hand in Dean’s hair as he sucked kisses up Castiel’s throat.
“No marks,” Castiel managed, and Dean pulled off immediately, pressing one more kiss to the spot he’d been worrying at the junction of Castiel’s neck and shoulder.
“Shame,” Dean murmured. Dean’s arms slipped from around him and he crossed the room to turn on the lamps. They washed the room in a golden glow, which just made Dean even more attractive.
Slowly, Castiel moved across the room, kicking his shoes off and shrugging off his jacket. Dean reached up and loosened his own tie, pulling it over his head and discarding his suit jacket. Castiel took in the details of Dean’s features up close as they slowly unbuttoned each others’ shirts. This close, the grey in his temples and stubble was more pronounced, streaks of silver scattered through his honey-brown hair. As they dropped their shirts to the ground, Dean slid his hands under Castiel’s undershirt and gently tugged it up and over his head, fingertips skirting over Castiel’s sides and causing him to flinch. Dean smirked.
“Ticklish?” he teased, but Castiel got his revenge as he dug his own fingertips into Dean’s side, causing Dean to crumple with laughter, falling to the bed as Castiel chased him to continue his assault. Dean finally got hold of Castiel’s wrists again and flipped them so he straddled Castiel’s chest, Castiel’s feet planted on the floor. Dean kept eye contact as he pulled his own undershirt over his head. He pulled back at first when Castiel reached up to trail fingers down the dusting of silvered chest hair that led over Dean’s waist (trim but soft around the edges) and disappeared below his belly button and into his pants. Castiel followed it further, skating fingers over the impressive bulge pressing against Dean’s zipper. Dean shuddered, then reached down and pressed Castiel’s hand firmly into the hard line of his cock.
“God, your hands,” Dean breathed, grinding against Castiel’s palm as he pressed the heel of his hand into Dean’s hot length. Castiel’s mouth watered, a brief flash of desire to get his lips around it as Dean rode the pressure of his grip. Dean collapsed forward, planting his hands on the bed above Castel’s head as Castiel rubbed him through the fabric with one hand. He snaked the other around Dean’s thigh and worked on undoing his belt and button. Dean caught on to what he was doing and reached down to help, finally working the zipper down and revealing a large, dark spot on the red briefs he’d been wearing in the picture from earlier. They hugged his cock nicely, seaming trimmed in white outlining the impressive shape of him. Castiel grabbed the waist of Dean’s pants and pushed them down as far as he could with Dean still straddling his chest. He eased the waistband of Dean’s underwear down enough for the head of his cock to peek out and moaned.
“Fuck, Cas, gonna give me a complex,” Dean said, sliding down Castiel’s body to step out of his pants. He reached to take off his briefs, too, but Castiel stopped him.
“Leave ‘em on,” Castiel slurred, dazed with desire. Dean hesitated for a moment, then kicked his pants and socks off before diving back in to devour Castiel’s mouth again. Suddenly, Dean was in a rush to get Castiel the rest of the way undressed, though he groaned and dropped to his knees when he saw Castiel’s underwear.
“You wore them,” Dean breathed, his hot, moist breath warming the satin. Castiel shivered as Dean mouthed at his cock through the fabric. “Jesus, turn over, Cas, gotta see . . .”
Castiel kicked his way out of the rest of his pants before turning over and crawling up onto the bed on his hands and knees, satin-covered ass in the air. Dean swore, sliding his hands up the outside of Castiel’s thick thighs to play with the hem of his shorts. “This ass is amazing,” Dean said, grabbing a handful and kneading it roughly. Castiel moaned and pushed back into the touch. “Firm and perky,” Dean said, smacking his ass cheek playfully and laughing when Castiel let out a yelp.
“Wanna feel you,” Castiel said, glancing back over his shoulder.
Dean leaned over to the bedside table and pulled out a strip of condoms and a quarter-full bottle of lube. He made a series of reverent noises as he eased Castiel’s shorts over the swell of his ass. Castiel groaned as Dean pulled his cheeks apart and exposed his tight hole to the air. The head of his cock was caught in the fabric of the front of his shorts, and with every move the satin pulled tight over it making him moan. The pop of a cap made Castiel shudder.
Castiel tried to relax as Dean circled his hole with one slick finger, teasing the nerve endings as Castiel moaned and pressed his ass up in the air and his face into the mattress. Dean dipped the tip of his finger into his entrance and swore again.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.”
Castiel gasped sharply as Dean prodded at his entrance with two slick fingers, spreading the lube and working him open. It was too shallow to feel spectacular yet, but Castiel had always been sensitive and it had been a long time. He relaxed into Dean’s expert touch, moaning and whispering encouragement to get Dean where he wanted him most. Dean leaned down and pressed kisses into his back, along his shoulder blades. He stroked Castiel’s cock slowly, just enough to keep him on edge as he opened him up.
“So good for me,” Dean whispered, finally brushing over Castiel’s prostate.
“Oh, fuck, Dean, there!” he shouted, arching his back into it. Dean chuckled.
“I’ve got you,” Dean said, rubbing gently along Castiel’s flank to soothe him, circling his prostate at the same time. Castiel whined as his cock dribbled pre-come into his too-tight underwear. He was exhausted, his body was thrumming, and now he just wanted Dean to get in him.
“Patience,” Dean murmured. A twinge in Castiel’s lower back interrupted the warmth building in his belly.
“Wait,” Castiel managed, squirming to roll to his side. “Can we maybe . . .”
“You okay?” Dean asked, easing his fingers out of Castiel, his eyes full of concern. Castiel smiled sheepishly.
“A little stiff,” Castiel said. Dean’s eyes flicked down to his cock, still straining against his underwear, and Castiel rolled his eyes. “My back,” Castiel said.
“Oh!” Dean quickly moved to let Castiel adjust. Castiel turned so his head was on the pillows near the headboard, and laid flat his stomach on the bed, legs spread enough to let Dean in between them. Dean carefully lifted Castiel’s right leg so his knee was at more of an angle, spreading him open a bit more. “How’s that?” he asked.
“Better,” Castiel sighed, relaxing into the pillows. Dean chuckled, then eased Castiel the rest of the way out of his underwear, sliding them down over Castiel’s legs and discarding the damp garment on the floor.
The sound of the foil wrapper, another click of the lube bottle, and then Dean was straddling Castiel’s ass, the thick head of his cock pressing between his cheeks.
“You ready, baby?” Dean asked. Castiel tamped down the butterflies and nodded. “Gonna need more than that, angel. Enthusiastic consent is sexy.”
“Please fuck me, Dean,” Castiel rumbled, and then Dean was sinking in, slowly at first, the fat head of his cock spreading him wide. Castiel groaned at the intrusion and tried to spread his legs more to give Dean better access.
“Fuck,” Dean breathed, adjusting his position a little and sinking in a bit deeper. “So tight . . .”
“Mmm, feels good,” Castiel moaned. “So big, fuck.”
Dean laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” Dean said breathily, sinking in further. “God, you’re perfect.”
“Shut up and fuck me,” Castiel managed, and then Dean did. It only took another moment for Castiel to adjust, and then Dean was pounding into him hard enough to rattle the headboard. Castiel gripped the pillow hard and tried to catch his breath as Dean fucked a series of noises out of him that Castiel didn’t even recognize as his own.
The friction on his cock from Dean’s thrusts driving him into the bed was overwhelming, and it wasn’t long until Castiel’s core tightened against the coming orgasm.
“Dean—“ Castiel gasped, pushing back into Dean’s thrusts. “Fuck, Dean, gonna come . . .”
“Yeah you are, can feel it, feel you gettin’ tighter,” Dean panted. He wrapped an arm around Castiel’s waist and held him tight, grinding deep into him, cock nailing Castiel’s prostate. A high-pitched whine worked its way out of Castiel’s throat as Dean turned his head enough to kiss the corner of his mouth sloppily. “Come for me,” Dean gasped, and then Castiel was soaking the sheets beneath him, shuddering out the last waves as Dean’s thrusts got more erratic.
“Can I come on you?” Dean whispered. “Make you mine.”
“Yes,” Castiel murmured, and then Dean was pulling out, stripping himself of the condom and fucking into his fist. His bare cockhead nudged Castiel’s used hole, and Castiel sucked in a sharp breath as a warm spurt of come landed on his hole before Dean adjusted and painted his ass cheeks with it. It seemed to go on and on, until finally Dean collapsed next to Castiel, breathing hard into the sheets. Castiel blinked against the sluggish satisfaction taking over him, meeting Dean’s hooded gaze. A slow grin spread over Dean’s face as he lifted a hand to trace Castiel’s cheekbone. Castiel smiled, gummy and relaxed. A bright warmth bloomed in his chest as they lay there together, heartrates returning to normal. Castiel reached up and wrapped his hand around Dean’s.
“Dean, I—”
Somewhere on the floor an unfamiliar guitar riff sounded, startling Dean out of the moment. “Shit,” Dean muttered, hauling himself out of bed. He padded over to the jeans on the floor, silencing the ringtone on his phone before turning back to Castiel. Whatever had stretched between them earlier was gone as Dean rubbed the back of his head as he looked at Castiel awkwardly. Suddenly, the room was cold.
“Do you have something I could use to clean up--?” Castiel asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Dean said, rushing into the bathroom. He returned quickly with a washcloth soaked in warm water.
“Thanks,” Castiel said, taking the cloth from Dean and wiping himself down perfunctorily. He ached, but it was a good ache. Castiel focused on that as the tension rose between them.
“Sure thing, Cas,” Dean said, taking the washcloth back to the bathroom. Castiel shifted to a sitting position and started to sort through their clothes. Dean came back and hovered, watching Castiel search. “Look, I um . . .”
“I have to get going,” Castiel said, standing and gathering his clothes, attempting to hide his wince.
“I had a really good time,” Dean started, but Castiel cut him off, determined not to make this weird.
“Me, too. Thank you for inviting me,” he said, shifting awkwardly.
“Um, yeah. No problem.”
Castiel managed to gather everything together, then stood with all his clothes in his arms. Dean was watching him with a strange look on his face. Castiel lifted his clothes in an indicative gesture.
“I’ll just get dressed and then call an Uber.”
“Um, sure.”
Castiel dressed quickly in the sitting room, ordered his car, and then there was nothing left to do but leave. Dean was waiting in the bedroom door, wrapped in a fluffy fancy-hotel robe, looking oddly conflicted. Castiel waited with one hand on the doorknob, silence stretching between them.
“Thanks . . . again,” Castiel said. Dean just nodded.
“Don’t mention it.”
Another moment passed, but Dean didn’t move. “I’ll . . . see you around,” Castiel said.
“Sure.”
Castiel tamped down on the disappointment and unease he felt as he stepped out into the hallway, convincing himself not to turn back and watch the door close behind him.
The Uber driver was late, which meant Castiel had to wait in the fancy hotel lobby while people walked past him and stared. He knew he had to reek of sex, so he was grateful when the car arrived and he could avoid getting the police called on him for prostitution.
He had no idea why he was starting to feel like shit. It was a hook-up, it was only ever meant to be a hook-up, and even though it had been the most amazing sex Castiel had ever had, it was a Grindr hook-up. That’s all.
Melancholy had fully set in by the time he got back to his apartment, but nothing a hot shower and a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix. As he settled in for bed, he felt a little better, even though he knew he’d still be sore in the morning, it would eventually fade. As for Dean . . .
He pulled up the Grindr app, and ignoring any messages, deleted the entire thing.