CONTENT WARNING: The chapter is explicit. it contains depictions of oral sex. If that ain’t your thing, come back tomorrow for the more G rated Day 28: Movies!
If you do keep reading, additional warning, this is a long one, but there’s no good spot to split it. Apologies in advance.
~
It came not with a bang, but a whimper.
Well, a clang and a groan and a few bangs, and then low-pitched whining noise, but Dean could have sworn that when the power gave out and the Bunker plunged into pure darkness, the system gave a pathetic, mechanical whimper before falling silent.
“Balls,” came Bobby’s unimpressed drawl in the darkness, and Dean had to agree.
“Alright, nobody panic,” Bobby said, but apart from a few cries of surprise as the warmly lit library plunged into the deepest of darknesses, it sounded like all the hunters were keeping their heads. “Y’all got them newfangled phones now that got torches on ‘em?”
There was a murmur of agreement and as Dean watched, lights sprung up in the darkness as hunter after hunter switched on their torch. “Is Bill here?” Bobby asked, looking around
“On a case,” someone piped up, and Dean felt like asking “Now? It’s Christmas,” but the supernatural didn’t stop existing just because it was a holiday, especially when the creatures usually predated the modern concept of Christmas by thousands of years.
“Well, shit,” Bobby muttered, and Dean realised that Bill must have been their go-to tech guy. “What about Shane?”
“I’m here, Bobby,” came a younger voice from the vicinity of the War Room.
“Find Sam, see if he knows what in the hell is goin’ on,” Bobby ordered. “Reg, you go with him. Rest of you: torches, candles. Shut down the non-essentials, head back to your quarters, don’t come out ‘’til the lights are back on.”
Dean watched in amazement as the hunters snapped to carry out Bobby’s orders, the lights bobbing in the darkness as they moved. Dean felt a hand wrap around his arm and hold tightly, and Dean placed his hand over the top of the fingers and squeezed reassuringly.
“I’m here, Cas,” he murmured and felt Cas lean against him, his body solid and warm against Dean’s side. “You’re safe.”
He had come to realise that Cas was afraid of the dark. ‘Afraid’ might be simplfying what was no doubt a very serious psychological response to the time that Cas spent in the Empty, a time that Cas refused to speak about but clearly traumatised him enough that darkness make him panic. Dean had started leaving the small bedside lamp on while they slept: it was playing havoc on his sleep patterns, but it mean that when Cas woke from the nightmares that plagued him, he didn’t wake and believe he was still back there.
Pulling out his own phone, Dean switched the torch app on and moved his phone to shine the light up at the ceiling, illuminating himself and Cas and a small circle of the library around them. The death grip on his arm relaxed.
“Alright. You heard the man,” Dean said. “Candles and then back to our room.”
“Why do we have to return to our quarters?” Cas asked, following Dean as Dean slowly walked out of the library.
“Less chance of injuries from people being stupid in the dark,” Dean hazarded a guess. “If there’s some big bad that’s caused the blackout, less people out and about means less victims. And if this takes a while, it’s gonna get cold in here. Smaller spaces are easier to heat.”
He passed Eileen and stopped. “You seen Miracle?” he asked, shining the torch towards his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cas sign the question.
Eileen nodded. “He was with Sam in the gym,” she said.
Dean nodded. Sam would keep Miracle safe. “Okay, thanks. C’mon. We’re hitting the supply room.”
Never again would Dean complain about the fact that they did so many rituals and cast so many spells that they needed an entire room dedicated to spell ingredients and supplies because the large shelving unit full of candles was suddenly very much worth it. Dean left Cas and Eileen in the hall and joined the patient line of hunters filing into the room and grabbed a couple of thick pillar candles and then followed Eileen to her room, making sure she was safely inside and her candles were lit before leading Cas back down to their room.
He kept the iPhone torch on until the candles were lit and throwing a soft warm light into the room, and then switched it off. While his phone was still in his hand he tapped out a quick message to Sam, letting him know that Eileen was safe and in their room and checking on the status of the power.
“Shit,” Dean said aloud, reading Sam’s immediate response.
“What is it?” Cas asked.
“Sam says the system’s overloaded. He and one of Bobby’s tech guys are looking at the instruction manual and tryin’ find the fault but none of ‘em knows what they’re looking for.” He looked up a Cas. “This could take a while.”
Cas nodded and looked nervously around the room, drifting over to the largest of the candles, a moth drawn to the flame. Dean set his phone down on the small table beside the bed and quickly ran through the options of how to kill time until Sam and the geeks figured out how to get the power back on. His laptop had a decent battery life and he had some movies saved to the computer’s internal drive: he could load up a movie or a TV show, watch that until the battery died. He could sneak back into the library and grab some board games, or, come to think of it, Dean was sure he had a deck of cards in his bag somewhere. There were books a plenty, or they could sit down and talk or…
Dean looked over at Cas, and suddenly none of those options sounded appealing. Cas’ skin glowed in the warm candlelight, the shadows on his face highlighting the sharp cheekbones, the line of his jaw, the purse of his lips, and Dean found himself crossing the room, coming up behind Cas and wrapping his arms around Cas’ waist.
“Got any ideas on what we can do until then?” he murmured into Cas’ ear.
Cas inhaled sharply, his head lifting and dropping back and Dean pressed a kiss into the side of Cas’ neck, gently at first, and when Cas didn’t pull away, harder, sucking the skin into his mouth, teasing at it with his teeth, tasting the salt and the soap and the indefinable taste of Cas.
Cas groaned and shifted in his arms, and Dean let him go, let him turn until his chest was pressed against Dean’s and his lips pressed against Dean’s, kissing him hungrily.
They hadn’t done much more than kissing since Christmas morning. A lot of kissing, more kissing than Dean could remember doing since he was a teenager. Kissing and some groping, because Dean could be a gentleman when he wanted to be but there was no way he was keeping his hands to himself when he woke in the morning with a gorgeous half-naked man in his arms and found out that Cas’felt even better under Dean’s hands than he could have imagined, all firm muscle and soft hair, solid even when stripped of the layers of clothing that Cas wore like a shield. But nothing more than that. Second base, and no further.
Not because Dean didn’t want to (and if his dreams were any indication then yeah, he really, really wanted to) but because it had only been two days. Two days and it had been years since Dean had been with another man, and as far as Dean knew Cas had only been with women (a woman, and nearly dying afterwards might have soured Cas’ memories of the event) and this wasn’t a ‘last night on Earth, tomorrow we might die’ situation or even a ‘just passing through town’ kind of deal. This was ‘for as long as you’ll have me’ or ‘for as long as we both shall live’ (which might not be that long, given their histories) and if Dean was lucky then they would have plenty of time. No need to rush or push.
But right now, a little push might be in order. Something to make Cas relax, distract him from the looming darkness beyond the door.
Not breaking the kiss, Dean stepped backwards, pulling Cas along with him until he felt the edge of the mattress against the backs of his calves and stopped. As Cas’ hands cradled his face, Dean let his own hands move to the hem of the sweater that Cas was wearing, lifting it up and he pulled away from Cas’ lips long enough to get it over Cas’ head, chuckling at the displeased grumble that Cas made before he dived back in, his lips latching on to the pulse thundering in Dean’s neck and sucking, hard.
Dean gasped at the confused pleasure/pain signals his brain was sending him, and dropped his hands to Cas’ belt, fumbling the buckle open and working at the button on Cas’ jeans before finally getting the metal disc free of the stiff denim and lowering the zip on Cas’ fly, groaning slightly as the backs of his fingers brushed over the substantial bulge underneath.
Dean slipped his hands into the waistband of Cas’ jeans on either hip and paused. “Can I?” he asked and took the growl that vibrated against his neck and chest as a ‘yes’ and pushed the material down over Cas’ hips, getting them stuck on Cas’ thighs. Cas ripped himself off Dean (and the gasp that Dean let out was definitely more on the ‘pain’ side of the pleasure/pain equation since Cas didn’t let go of him, teeth stretching Dean’s skin until the last second, and Dean wasn’t going to think about how much he’d liked that until much later) and shoved his jeans down, kicking them off his feet and then pushing his boxers down as well until he stood before Dean, naked and aroused. Dean grabbed at Cas, pulling him back in for a searing kiss, slipping his tongue past the man’s open lips and stroking teasingly as he maneuvered Cas around until he had his back to the bed, and then Dean pushed him down, using his lips to encourage Cas to shuffle up the bed as Dean crawled over him until Cas was laying with his head on the pillows, Dean hovering over him.
Cas where he wanted him, Dean kissed down to his jaw, his throat, catching the bob of Cas’ Adam’s apple in his mouth, sucking lightly before kissing down to lap at the hollow of Cas’ throat.
“Dean,” Cas groaned above him, hands clutching at Dean’s shirt.
“Shhh,” Dean soothed, sucking a bruise onto Cas’ clavicle. “Just let me take care of you.”
The fists holding onto his clothes tugged, hard. “Off,” Cas demanded, and Dean chuckled.
“Yes, sir,” he said jokingly, the humour falling from his face as he watched Cas’ eyes widen and darken at the honorific, as he felt his dick throb in response and oh, they were coming back to that. Right now, though, Dean sat back on his heels, straddling Cas’ knees, and slowly stripped off his flannel, not taking his eyes off Cas, who watched every movement intently, eyes immediately falling to the newly exposed skin when Dean yanked his t-shirt over his head.
Cas surged up, grabbing Dean and kissing him hard, and for a moment, Dean forgot that he had a plan, that he was meant to be pleasing Cas and sank into Cas’ kiss. Cas kissed like he was trying to devour Dean, like Dean was water and Cas had been stranded in a desert for months. He was demanding, but not rough, his lips soft against Dean’s even as he licked Dean’s mouth open and sucked on his tongue, and Dean left Cas drink him down.
He felt Cas pull him down as he lay back against the pillows, and threw out a hand, catching his weight before he crushed Cas. Cas now laying down, Dean repeated his downward journey, getting as far as Cas’ chest before he felt Cas try to grab at him again.
“Dean,” Cas complained, and in response, Dean took one of Cas’ nipples into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, feeling it stiffen before sucking on it. Cas arched under him and Dean chuckled, releasing the now pert nub and moving over to the other side, letting his fingers idly tweak and play with the spit-slicked one.
Cas’ hands flew to Dean’s head, tangling in the short stands of hair, holding Dean tight as he groaned and moved under him. “Oh, Dean,” he gasped, and Dean felt Cas’ hip jerk upwards, Cas’ cock hot and thick against Dean’s hip.
Releasing the now stiff nipple, his fingers still playing with the other one, Dean kissed his way down to Cas’ ribs, shuffling to kneel in between Cas’ legs, pausing over the faded tattoo on Cas’ side before running his tongue along it, feeling the rise and fall of his ribs, tracing the Enochian lettering with the tip of his tongue, holding Cas still as the man squirmed and wriggled under him.
“Dude, how did you sit still enough to get this done if you’re that ticklish,” Dean asked, amused, looking up at Cas.
Cas glared at him. “I assure you, the sensation of a tattoo gun is very different from…that,” he said, and Dean laughed.
“Yeah, I get that,” he said, dropping his lips to Cas’ belly button, dipping his tongue in, feeling Cas’ belly moving under him as he panted for breath. Cas’ cock was pressed against his shoulder now, the head rubbing against him as Cas writhed, smearing pre-come across Dean’s skin.
“Dean, please,” Cas begged, and Dean abandoned Cas’ navel and resumed his journey down, kissing along the trail of hair to the thatch of curls at the base of Cas’ groin and burying his nose in them, breathing in the salty, musky smell, very different from burying his face in a woman’s mound but just as wonderful.
But he wasn’t done yet.
As Cas groaned in dismay, Dean kept going, dragging his nose through Cas’ curls until Dean was on his stomach between Cas’ thighs, nuzzling Cas’ balls, rubbing his nose against the satiny soft skin hanging heavy under Cas’ thick cock. He reached his hands down and pushed at Cas’ thighs, spreading his legs wider, in part to give himself more room, in part to buy himself a little time as he stared.
His time with men had never been this…intimate. Dean had sucked and fucked (and been sucked and fingered and fucked himself ) but it had often been rushed, clandestine encounters, clothing barely removed, foreplay forsaken for the need to get to the main event. He had never had the chance to just look, to please for pleasure’s sake, and to be honest, Dean was a little nervous, worried that his lack of experience would translate into a lacklustre encounter, that Cas would pat him on the shoulder and walk out the door and this would be his last chance to get his hands and lips on Cas…
He may not have done this, but he’d had it done to him by several female acquaintances over the years, so summoning his memories of what he’d liked, Dean licked his lips and dove in.
If the noises Cas made above him were any indication, Cas liked what Dean was doing just fine. As Dean licked at Cas’ balls, drawing them into his mouth and sucking gently, Cas moaned, his hands so tight in Dean’s hair that for a second Dean worried that Cas was going to rip strands out. His legs shifted restlessly on the bed as Dean licked at the soft skin behind his balls, and Dean felt one hand leave his head and heard the familiar sound of skin on skin and looked up to see that Cas had wrapped a hand around his cock and was slowly sliding it up and down his shaft, giving in to his need for friction.
For a moment Dean just watched, entranced by the sight of Cas’ cock, head flushed almost purple, appearing and disappearing into Cas’ fist. Cas was bigger than Dean had imagined, bigger even than he had dreamed, long and thick enough to make Dean’s jaw ache just thinking about wrapping his lips around it. Remembering what he was doing, Dean slapped lightly at Cas’ arm.
“Uh uh,” he chided, pushing himself up and getting his knees underneath him so that he hovered over Cas. “Let me.”
“Then do it,” Cas growled, impatient, but released his cock and let his hand drop to his side.
“Bossy,” Dean commented lightly, but obediently opened his mouth and swallowed Cas down.
Cas gave a shout and thrust upwards, and it was only Dean’s hand on his hip that stopped him from shoving his cock all the way down Dean’s throat. Dean wrapped his lips around Cas as far down as he could and just breathed for a second, adjusting to the sensation of the thick shaft pressing down on his tongue. He swallowed, fighting his body’s instinct to gag, and felt Cas jerk under him.
“Oh, Dean, yes, oh,” he heard Cas mutter above him, and with that ringing endorsement, Dean began to move.
He wrapped one hand around the base of Cas’ cock and slid his lips up the hard shaft, sucking lightly on the tip when it reached his lips, swirling his tongue around the spongey head and moaning slightly at the taste of the salty precome leaking from Cas slit before sliding his lips down to meet his fist, fast and then slow, drawing moans and gasps from Cas as he experimented, finding out what Cas liked, filing that away for future reference. Trusting that Cas couldn’t choke him with a hand squeezing the base of his cock, Dean took the hand holding Cas’ hip down and slipped it between Cas’ legs, gently squeezing and tugging at Cas’ balls as he bobbed his head up and down Cas’ cock, grinning as much as he could with a cock in his mouth as Cas bucked under him, throwing back his head and moaning so loudly that Dean was concerned that someone would hear him.
“Shhhh,” he admonished around the crown of Cas’ cock. “Not so loud, sweetheart.”
Cas glared at him but shoved his fist into his mouth to stifle a groan as Dean took his hand away and slid his mouth all the way down, burying his nose in Cas’ curls, letting Cas slip down the back of his throat. He started to move, letting Cas’ head rub back and forth over the back of his tongue, and tapped at Cas’ hip, wordlessly telling him he could move.
He felt Cas’ hands slide into his hair, gently cradling his head, and then Cas’ hips began to thrust, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence. Dean concentrated on breathing in through his nose, ignoring the stretch of his lips and the ache in his jaw and the saliva running down his chin, focused on the feeling of Cas sliding in and out, the weight of Cas against his tongue, the smell of him, the taste of him, the sounds that he made as he chased his orgasm in Dean’s mouth.
Dean could feel when Cas was close: the already thick shaft in his mouth grew impossibly thick and the rhythm that Cas had found, hips lifting to meet Dean, began to falter and when Cas next thrust in Dean pushed himself down further, burying his face against Cas’ pelvis and swallowed around Cas’ cock, his throat squeezing around the crown of Cas’ cock and with that, Cas was gone.
With a shout and a buck of his hips Cas came, filling Dean’s mouth, come dripping out of Dean’s mouth as he swallowed over and over again, milking Cas’ release until Cas was switching and shuddering under him, the sensation too much on his now sensitive dick.
With a final long, gentle suck, cleaning the last of the come from Cas’ softening shaft, Dean sat up and looked at the results of his efforts.
Cas’ eyes were closed, his mouth lax, his chest heaving as he struggled to draw in breath. His face was flushed, his hair an unholy mess, and he was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.
Pleased with himself, Dean wiped at his mouth and crawled up Cas’ body, laying on his side next to Cas and watching as he struggled to put himself together after Dean had so thoroughly taken him apart. The candlelight danced on Cas’ skin, glowing where it hit the sweat dotting his hairline and his collarbones, and Dean marvelled that his man was his.
With a sigh of contentment, Cas turned his head to the side and opened his eyes, lids heavy.
“That was…” he said, his eyes drifting close as his lips curled into a pleased smile. “Mmmm.”
“That good, huh?” Dean teased, inwardly thrilled at Cas’ reaction.
One eye cracked open to look at Dean accusingly. “You were trying to distract me,” he complained.
“I was,” Dean agreed, lifting a hand and running his fingers down Cas’ sternum, along his collarbones. “Did it work?”
Cas hummed in agreement, and turned his head away, laying back against the pillow. Dean leaned close and pressed a kiss against Cas’ shoulder.
“I—“
“You don’t have to tell me,” Dean interrupted in a low voice. “I don’t need to know unless you want me to know. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
He felt Cas’ hand search for his and reached down, grabbing Cas’ hand, lacing their fingers together. Cas lifted their conjoined hands and pressed a kiss to Dean’s knuckles.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Any time,” Dean said, absolutely meaning it. Then he smirked. “And anytime you need a distraction…”
At that moment a loud clunk echoed through the Bunker. There was an ominous rattle and a low hum, and then the lights blinked back on.
“Hey!” Dean cheered and reached over Cas to grab at his phone, which beeped the arrival of a message.
“Sam says they fixed it. No shit, sherlock,” Dean said, tapping out a reply message, then dropping his phone back on the table and flopping back on the bed. “Guess that means we have to get up.”
Cas grumbled, and then looked at Dean for a moment before picking his head up and peering down at something. Dean craned his neck to see what Cas was looking at, and saw his hard cock was pressed against Cas’ hip.
“Oh,” he said.
“You didn’t…” Cas said awkwardly.
Dean shook his head. “This was all about you, sweetheart,” he said, reaching out to turn Cas’ face towards his, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m fine.”
He wasn’t: now that Cas had brought his attention to it, Dean’s cock ached, throbbing with need, and it was all Dean could do to stop himself from rutting against Cas’ hip, finding his own release.
Cas looked at him for a long moment and then got up, padding over to the door and throwing the lock. Moving around the room, he switched off the lights and turned off all the lamps until the room was once again lit only by the candles. Stopping to tap out a quick message on Dean’s phone, Cas climbed back onto the bed, kissing Dean slowly and deeply, as one large hand trailed down Dean’s side.
“I could use some more distraction,” he murmured as Dean gasped at the feeling of Cas’ hand, large and warm, wrapping around his cock.
“Whatever you need,” Dean breathed out and gave himself over to Cas’ soft, hungry mouth and clever hand.
~
Phew! Okay. Come back tomorrow for Day 28: Movies!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
oh look it’s chapter two
Bucky almost doesn’t show up. It’s really more expensive than he can afford, and Natasha would almost definitely ask too many questions. And showing up at a Brooklyn apartment, alone and unarmed, to pay a stranger for sex, is not just a bad idea. It’s illegal. And yet he can’t quite talk himself into turning away. Maybe it’s because he’s desperate, in more ways than one.
