Oh my God, this my first dirty prompt. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Thank you, nonny! I feel big time now.
There are fucking rules when you’re on the road, man. There are rules about not holding everyone else up, there’s rules about if you’re going to get laid, and there are rules about hogging the damn shower. And, apparently, Cas doesn’t understand this shit cause he can usually just mojo his ass clean and leave it at that. But right now he’s drained and forced to use the same facilities as Dean and Sam.
But Cas has been in there for no less than half an hour and some other people would like to get the chance to scrub up before Sam gets home with the next pile of information. Dean approached the bathroom, fully intending to smash on the door and demand entrance, but stopped when he saw that it was slightly open.
If someone were to ask why he just went on in, Dean would have claimed insanity. How often did you see a bathroom door open? It was just…bizarre. And what else were you supposed to do besides go in an open door? It’s a fucking invitation! And what was what he would stick with.
The room wasn’t particularly steamed up and it was completely silent except for the sounds the water beating down on fiberglass. Dean turned towards the shower and he wasn’t sure how to feel when he saw that the glass was heavily frosted. Despite the low visibility, he was distinctly aware of the repetitive motion and what that meant.
“Cas?” The sound came out of his mouth before he could stop it. Dean took a step forward, watching as Cas stroked his hand over his cock. If he heard Dean (he had to have heard him, he hadn’t been subtle), he showed no signs. He just kept on his groove, slowly twisting his hand at his head.
Dean licked his lips when he heard Cas’ gentle moan. The hunter felt his dick twitch and knew he was losing the blood in his brain instantly. This was hot. Fuck, this was really hot. Cas brought one hand up to the side of the shower, bracing himself as he fucked into his hand, noises piling up on one another. He wasn’t trying to be quiet.
Fuck, Cas wasn’t trying to be quiet.
A bolt of lightning seemed to shoot through Cas, halting his motions, his position. He stayed as he was, back arched and hand stilled, as he let out a sound that was fit for a heavenly chorus. Dean swallowed and cursed the fact that he couldn’t see Cas spraying the wall.
After a long moment of everything being perfectly still but the water, Cas slumped his head against his braced forearm and turned his gaze towards Dean. Even through the frost glass, Dean could swear he saw the intensity in Cas’ eyes. ”Forgive me, Dean,” Cas panted. ”I didn’t see you there.”
fallen cas in the bunker steadily accruing a huge collection of sex toys that he hides in his sock drawer
he’s got pretty glass plugs, bullet vibrators, even some nipple clamps, but his pride and joy is his array of dildos
his favorite is a deep jade green, long and thick, though he’s also partial to the shimmery blue one and the clear glass one with rainbow bumps all down the shaft
dean walks in on him one night when he comes in to ask cas what he wants for dinner, finds cas bouncing himself on his favorite dildo, another in his mouth, fucking himself at both ends
he’s panting and his eyes are closed and he hasn’t seen dean yet and all dean can do for a full minute is stare until cas lets out a loud, low moan
then dean’s too turned on to think and he finds himself climbing onto the bed and cas’ eyes snap open
dean begs please, cas, wanna touch you, you look so good like this, please let me touch you
cas groans and nods and then dean’s yanking the dildo out of cas’ mouth and dropping it on the bed, pressing their lips together, running shaking hands down cas’ body
he wraps one hand around cas’ cock and groans when he finds it slick with precome, uses the other hand to tweak and pinch cas’ pretty pink nipples and then he takes cas’ lower lip in his mouth and bites and cas is done for, coming all over dean’s hand
dean’s already forgotten all about dinner by the time cas turns over onto his stomach and slowly pulls the dildo out of his ass and says fuck me, dean, I need you
imagine Castiel touching himself for the first time.
he’s no dummy. he’s watched humanity for millennia. he knows how human sexuality works
and it’s not like he hasn’t felt his dick twitch
or made himself a place on the observation deck of a few self-service sessions.
it’s not like he hasn’t pressed into the arm of a chair
ground against the edge of a bed
let the fabric of his newly-purchased jeans drag upward more slowly than is excusable.
but the thing is, he’s put masturbation - proper masturbation - off for a long awhile
denied that it was something he wanted, needed -
convinced on some level it was an act that he was somehow above
(which he finds laughable, really, considering the depth he’s dropped to)
something that could never live up to the hype.
but he finally caves
coating his hand with Jergens Original Scent
(of course Sam carries lotion in his duffle)
and pushing slowly into his loose fist
as his eyes flit closed and he lets out a soft breath
before quickly jerking his hand away, a bit appalled by sensory overload.
but
after just a few seconds, the need coursing down his length burrows itself roughly into the base of his cock, causing him to return his palm to the shaft with a slight sigh of resignation, furrowing his brows with new-found determination
just imagine dean shifting in the driver’s seat of the impala. his hand wrapped around his cock.
biting down on his bottom lip and just really going at it.
leaning his head back on the seat and feeling so comfortable and just in the zone.
not knowing that cas is just staring at him, watching his every move. every little flick he makes with his fingers, the little grunts when he’s closer to the edge.
not knowing cas is cataloguing every twitch of his face. the flutter of his eyelids.
the soft groan he makes when he finally comes, spilling all over his hand.
the slick sound of him just continuing to stroke himself, his hand and his cock covered in come.
mmmm no.
Yeah, imagine that and then imagine Castiel going into his room in the Bunker and trying the same thing on himself, calling to memory the exact way Dean had looked in the Impala, the movements he had preformed on himself.
But he just can’t get it right, it doesn’t seem to feel the way Dean had looked to feel. He grunts in frustration as his hand slides over his erection. It feels good, that he can’t deny, but it doesn’t feel right.
As he tries to work himself to orgasm, he doesn’t hear his bedroom door swing open, or even feel the presence lingering in the doorway. It isn’t until Dean’s gentle, “Cas, you’re doing it wrong,” sounds from across the room that Castiel even realizes Dean has been watching him for the past few minutes.
It’s 4am and I have no idea what I’m doing. I got kinda inspired by the new promo video for 10x13 and my own tags on this post and then this happened.
Dean is
horny. And drunk. And alone in the bunker. Sam left earlier today to take care
of a ghost two towns over and Cas is god knows where, Dean haven’t seen him in
two weeks. Oh how he wishes Cas was here now. Being alone, drunk and horny is
one of the most frustrating things Dean Winchester knows.
