eternalsojourn: Legs (Legs)
[personal profile] eternalsojourn
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Word Count: ~2900
Warnings: None
Summary: Cas figures out how to text and keeps sending Dean messages. When he starts asking questions about porn, their already weak boundaries blur even further.
A/N: This was written for Ashley because while I can' change the world around to make sure she only ever gets good news, I can change her inbox so it has some porn in it.

What? Friends Talk About Porn.



Dean. Dean? Is this working? What an odd feature. What purpose does this serve. Couldn’t I just appear to you? Dean? Are you there?

Dean is stuck somewhere between a laugh and a sigh of long suffering for Cas’s technical ineptitude. He considers not answering, but it seems cruel.

yeah cas i’m here. you don’t need to talk to me like i’m. never mind. what do you want?

It takes a few minutes but the response comes while Dean is still looking at his phone.

I’m in Topeka. There’s a very large gentleman here asking if I’d like to accompany him to some bar called The Blue Oyster. Is that a usual turn of events?

Dean’s eyes go big and he’s tempted for one fraction of a second to tell Cas to go but the sudden lead weight in his gut steals his inclination to practical jokes.

no, cas. that’s not usual. you should maybe leave.

He’s tempted to elaborate but stares at the message for a second and hits send. The reply comes about fifteen minutes later, while Dean is staring at his laptop at a website on Leviathan lore pretending to read and not definitely not thinking about Cas.

Thank you, Dean. I think he may have wanted more than a drink.

Dean huffs a laugh and scratches his neck. Funny little nerd.

yeah. i think you might be right.

That’s the last of it for two days.

***

Dean. I have a problem.

Dean frowns at his phone. If Cas had a big problem he’d appear. Probably. Maybe he’s stuck in an angel trap. Maybe Crowley has him. Dean’s stomach twists as he types.

where are you

Bend, Oregon. A laundromat shower. I’m stuck, Dean. I have no more quarters and I have shampoo in my hair. What do I do?

The cascade of reactions spills through Dean like a water wheel: relief → amusement → picturing Cas naked and dripping suds → constricted throat. He half coughs to clear it and frowns at the phone.

what do you want me to do about it?

When there’s no answer Dean turns back to his computer but after a minute he rolls his eyes at himself and admits he’s not actually reading.

try rinsing it in the sink? wet towel? jesus I don’t know, cas.

After he hits send he realizes that all he’s done is give himself a few more scenarios to picture and he thunks his forehead on the desk. A few minutes later (had he really been sitting there that long? The time stamp on the text said so) the phone buzzes and he nearly knocks it off the table trying to get it. He tells himself it’s fatigue. Or withdrawal. Or something. God, he could use a whisky.

Thank you, Dean. The sink was a good idea. Another man walked in while I was doing it but he left in a hurry.

For an insane moment Dean wonders which view the man had been treated to, profile or rear, then gives himself an actual really? face, shakes his head and tries to focus on the website again.

A half hour later as he furtively tugs at his cock, he tries to think of the POV blowjob video he’s flipped the tab to, and only when it’s becoming clear that isn’t going to tip him over does he allow flashes of Cas bent over a bathroom sink to flit through his mind, Cas’s face a visage of ecstasy in the mirror.

Afterwards, with strings of come between his fingers and no tissue in sight, Dean thinks, okay. Fine. Fine. Everyone thinks crazy things when they’re about to come. He almost believes it.

***

Are tradesmen commonly known for cuckolding the men of the house?

It’s been a week since the shower exchange and Dean has very nearly eased the image out of his spank bank. He’s shaving in preparation for a night out at the local club when the latest text arrives, and he blinks at his phone for many long seconds before putting the razor carefully down beside the sink.

cas are you watching porn

The response is immediate, which is fortunate because Dean isn’t sure his hands are steady enough for the razor just that second.

The handyman in this one doesn’t seem morally concerned with the lady’s marital status. Is this a common scenario?

Dean wants to reply that texting him about porn, while watching porn, is pretty far outside the boundaries of friendly texting. He puts his thumb to the keys to say as much but finds himself at a momentary loss for words as he pictures Cas’s puzzled expression. Tradesmen. More than one? Is Cas basing this question off of more than just the one video? Was he just curious? Was he hard? Did he polish the family jewels?

He has to reread the text just to remind himself what he’s answering.

theyre not based on life cas. it’s a fantasy.

Whose fantasy? Women? Do they fantasize about committing adultery with tradesmen?

Dean laughs.

pretty sure its a guys fantasy. regular schmo, hot chick. you know.

No, I don’t know. Dean, there are categories here. It’s all very daunting. What kind do you watch?

Dean swallows thickly. He puts the phone down like it may bite him if he’s not careful and stares in the mirror. He picks up his razor and scrapes away the last of the shaving cream on his neck before wiping it all off. He knows he’s stalling but he has no idea how to respond to Cas.

Finally he picks up the phone and stares at it.

you cant just ask he types, then deletes it. thats personal he tries again, then deletes it. lesbians mostly he writes, then drops the phone with a clatter and a frantic fumble when he sees Cas in the mirror, standing way too close behind him.

Giving up on the phone, Dean grasps the edge of the sink, trying to centre himself and putting on a stern look.

“We talked about this, Cas. A little warning before you pop in? What if I’d been —” Dean stops himself. If he had been… in a compromised position, while they’d been texting like that. Well.

Cas frowns, confused. “We’d just been talking. Quite intimately. I thought —”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it,” Dean interrupts, and suddenly looking at Cas in the mirror feels weird so he turns around. Only Cas doesn’t move back, of course he doesn’t. No matter how many times they have the conversation about personal space, Cas seems to forget it. Which, come to think of it, is kind of weird. Cas is a quick learner, and despite Dean’s teasing, very intelligent and intuitive. So Dean draws a breath ready to have the conversation again but his eyes are suddenly drawn to his own hand which is inexplicably resting high on Cas’s chest, over the the lapel of his jacket. It derails his thoughts completely.

Cas glances down at the hand, which still hasn’t moved, then back at Dean with a clear and piercing stare.

“I didn’t realize I was making you uncomfortable. I apologize. I’ll stop texting you.”

“No!” Dean says, startling himself. “I mean I don’t mind.” And he wants to remove his hand but he feels like doing so would contradict what he’s just said and he doesn’t really want Cas to disappear. His logic is perhaps not perfectly sound but Dean has always relied on his gut more than his head anyway.

Cas’s lips twitch in an almost-smile when he says, “Lesbians?”

Dean smiles sheepishly. “You saw that, huh?”

“That is strange. There’s no male in that scenario. How does that facilitate your arousal?”

“It just does. And it’s not ‘facilitating my arousal’, it’s… whatever turns your crank. Gets your engine revving. And in the heat of the moment, you don’t really control what turns you on.” By the time he gets to the end, it’s running a little too close to things Dean doesn’t want to talk about and he feels heat in his face which he hopes isn’t too obvious.

“And same-sex amorousness is what ‘gets your engine revving’?”

From the meaningful rumble in Cas’s voice, Dean can tell Cas is deliberately pushing this and Dean knows Cas isn’t as naive as he’s presenting himself here but he can’t really bring himself to resent it. The room is steamy and warm from the shave, Cas is so close Dean can feel how warm and alive he is, and apparently at some point Dean has balled his hand into a fist into Cas’s lapel.

Dean shakes his head minutely in answer but he licks his lips and finds himself looking at Cas’s mouth. It would be so easy just to lean in feel the softness of those lips for himself, and Dean is practically thrumming with the want of it. But that’s not what they do, not how they’ve been together and Cas maybe doesn’t want that, is maybe only curious in a general sense. Because they’ve been here before, exactly here, hovering on the edge of a kiss that never happens. It’s happened so many times it’s almost routine to expect that they’ll part and pretend it never happened, until the next time it does. But he’s not ready for that next part yet so Dean speaks.

“What gets your engine revving, Cas?” he says, voice lower and breathier than expected.

“I like the… kissing. And the touching. There doesn’t seem to be enough of that in the videos. Why is that, Dean?”

“I don’t know, Cas. Like I said, it’s not based on life.”

“That’s too bad. Life is better.” Cas rests one heavy hand on Dean’s hip and he’s moved that little bit closer so that his breath gusts over Dean’s cheek.

Dean’s can’t disagree because he’s well versed in video porn but nothing comes close to the sweaty, messy, hot reality of skin on skin and the size and weight of Cas’s hand is making some new part of Dean’s brain spark brightly.

Dean does lean in then, but only just enough to brush his nose against Cas’s. And it’s not shyness or any need to be tentative that makes him do it, but a need to really savour every infinitesimal shift of their parameters. Dean’s gut tells him not to rush it, and it tells him not to hold back, and balancing the two feels like, well, like revving his engine, all harnessed power and potential energy.

From here he can see the complex topography of the blue of Cas’s eyes, a narrow ring around dilated pupils, and he can feel the rumble in his chest when Cas hums very lightly in pleasure.

When he finally closes the last of the distance, he captures Cas’s top lip between his own, determined not to scare Cas off by devouring him the way Dean really wants to. For a moment it’s still and he feels Cas relax into him, body subtly accommodating the contours between them. Then Cas slips his hand around the small of Dean’s back and pulls him, solidly and surely so that their bodies are pressed together. Cas tilts his head and closes his mouth to suck lightly at Dean’s lip before opening, licking in an exploratory swipe.

Dean knows Cas is a quick study but he can’t imagine what Cas has been watching that has taught him how to kiss like this, especially given the pedestrian porn Cas seems drawn to. But Dean isn’t complaining and frankly the thought is only half formed because Cas’s hip is firm against Dean’s erection and he can’t stop himself pressing into it. Cas shifts to press his own and if Dean isn’t careful, they’ll end up just rubbing off against each other without even removing any clothes and that’s just wrong.

So when Cas breaks the kiss to catch his breath with an obscene wet sound, Dean makes the executive decision to keep things moving along to an end he can already envision right here in the bathroom. Because this can’t lose momentum; they’ve waited too long and Dean isn’t risking second thoughts at this stage.

He pushes Cas back enough to pull the jacket off and undo the buttons on his shirt, while Cas picks up on the proceedings and works on Dean’s. Dean pushes Cas's shirt off and undoes Cas’s pants, careful not to touch the obvious bulge. He’s saving that; he doesn’t want to miss the moment on Cas’s face. Once undone, he pushes Cas to the edge of the sink and looks at him in the mirror, seeing the spark of fire in Cas’s eyes and the breathless smile on his face. And Dean fervently wishes that before they’re done he’ll also see that look of ecstasy he’d imagined after the shower texts.

Dean mouths over the smooth skin of Cas’s back and skates his hands over the blades of his shoulders, wondering where the wings are. He wonders if Cas would unsheath the for him like this but he doesn’t dare ask. Not yet. For now he just wraps an arm around Cas’s torso and rolls his hips against the plump curve of Cas’s ass. He sees Cas’s surprised gasp but as it’s far from an unpleasant surprise, from the look on his face, Dean doesn’t bother to apologize. He just glides his hand up to Cas’s jaw and urges him to turn his head, stretching so he can kiss. It’s a tad awkward but they kiss deeply, needy, both of them.

Dean reaches down and dips his fingers into the band of Cas’s underwear, watching Cas’s face in the mirror as understanding dawns. Cas’s lips are open and his eyes are wanting and Dean would kind of like to spin Cas around to lick at those lips again but this is easier. This is something he understands, this angle. He reaches his hand down further and touches two fingers to Cas’s bare cock, a jut of hardness beneath delicate, soft skin. It’s foreign but familiar, and though he’s reaching farther than he’s used to, Dean can work his hands easily this way.

“This all right, Cas?” he asks, surprising himself. He doesn’t usually ask questions like that, relying instead on the enthusiastic participation of his partner to tell him everything is going along just fine, thanks. But something makes him more cautious and far be it from him to ignore his instincts.

Cas’s voice is already wrecked, gravelly and rough when he answers. “Dean, if you stop now, so help me, you will feel my heavenly wrath.”

Dean laughs, one breathy exhale before wrapping his fingers and beginning a smooth, firm stroke. He scrapes his teeth over Cas’s shoulder and ruts into Cas’s ass, separated only by the cotton of Dean’s underwear.

It’s steady and perfect for a short while, air heavy and the sound of breaths mingling with soft hums in the echoey confines of the small bathroom. But soon enough Cas is rocking fitfully, seeking more pressure, more speed, more anything, and Dean obliges. He knows the signs and he swipes his palm over the head of Cas’s dick to slick his rub with precome and the swipe itself pulls a groan from Cas that makes Dean’s balls positively rumble.

Cas’s face in the mirror is vulnerable in a way Dean never expected, open and so plainly pleasured that Dean strokes a little bit firmer just to watch Cas’s eyes squeeze shut, jaw dropping open. He can feel the tensing rumble, the reverberation of Cas’s core that tells Dean to tip Cas over the brink and he does, Cas’s helpless gasp and moan lighting his face with exactly the look Dean had pictured, and it’s enough, along with the frantic rutting Dean has been doing, to tip Dean over, spilling inside his underwear against Cas’s rear.

It should be embarrassing but this is Cas, and Cas doesn’t seem the slightest bit bothered or judgemental. No, he’s wrung out and panting and completely debauched. Dean feels a burst o warmth in his belly at the sight and allows himself a fond smile that he turns to a smirk when Cas looks up at him in the mirror.

Dean laughs and shakes his head, not quite sure how to process what just happened.

“You’re right. Real life is better,” Dean says.

Cas laughs and rights himself, turning around and tugging on the two sides of Dean’s open shirt. “I appreciate you taking the time to demonstrate.” His eyes twinkle, and Dean thinks Cas is maybe getting a bit better at jokes.

“I really need to find you some better porn, though,” Dean amends.

Instead of replying, Cas just closes his palm around the back of Dean’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss. And this is all right, Dean thinks. Cas can text him any time, appropriateness be damned.

**End**
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