"You want me to do a scene with who, now?" Dean barks, because really, this guy can't be fuckin' serious.
"Um, Castiel?" The intern says, like it's a question.
"Absolutely fucking not," Dean says. There's no fucking way, really. They won't be able to sit in the same room with each other for long enough to have a civil conversation, let alone long enough to want to strip each other down and do a scene.
"But Gabriel said-"
"I don't give a flying fuck what Gabriel said," Dean snaps, and the poor intern is damn near shaking. Dean sighs. "Go get him. Let me talk to Gabriel."
The intern nods his gratitude and runs off to find the boss within the sea of endless interns and fluffers and so-called stars.
So Gabriel wants Dean to do a scene with Castiel, of all fucking people. If the guy weren't such an arrogant, self-righteous dick with a stick up his ass, then maybe Dean could see himself getting a little down and dirty with him. But, seeing as how Castiel is indeed an arrogant, self-righteous dick, Dean won't have it. Their numbers have been neck and neck for months now, and every week when one or the other brings out a new video on Gabe's website, it promptly knocks the other out of first place in viewings for the week. Their rivalry is one for the books, and porn journalists (who even knew there was such an animal?) have been following Dean and Castiel's antagonistic competition for nearly as long as it's been going on. It makes sense, really, for the two of them to sit down in front of some cameras and hash this out the way they would with any other rival: in a business setting to bring up both their numbers. In an industry sense, it should work. But this is no friendly competition. This is pure, unadulterated contempt.
"Excuse me?!" A deep voice shouts from behind a dressing room door, and Dean would know that voice anywhere, has watched enough of Castiel's videos to know what the dude's voice sounds like post-fuck.
The dressing room door bangs open to reveal Castiel, nude from the waist up, tying a silk robe closed to give the illusion of modesty while he storms toward Dean.
"Did you know about this?" Castiel demands, brandishing a slip of paper and shoving it in Dean's face.
After a cursory skim over the contractual terms, Dean pushes the document away from his face and shrugs. "Didn't know it was on paper, but yeah, I knew your slimy-ass brother was trying to get us to kill each other on camera."
"He's out of his goddamned mind," Castiel growls.
"Well at least we can agree on somethin', eh, Cas?"
"Don't call me that."
“Mmm, feisty, just how I like ‘em,” Dean teases.
“Shut it, Winchester, or I’ll shut it for you,” Castiel snaps back.
“Oh, yeah?” Dean challenges. “How’re ya gonna do that, pretty boy?”
Cas just gets up in his face, all pretense of personal space flying out the window. He narrows his eyes and says, "So help me God I will not hesitate to stuff your mouth so full of my co-”
“Whoa, there, gentlemen,” Gabriel interjects, pushing between the two of them like this is some schoolyard brawl. “Save it for the camera, huh?” he says with a lecherous grin.
“This is ludicrous, Gabriel,” Castiel sighs. “You know I can’t do a scene with… him.”
He says it with such disgust that Dean is immediately defensive and on edge. “Why you gotta say it like I’m some kind of bug on the bottom of your shoe?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?” Castiel deadpans.
“Aw, fuck you, Castiel.”
“Guys, please,” Gabriel says. “This video has been requested literally thousands of times, by both of your fans. All of our viewers know how much you two hate each other, and everyone wants to know how that will affect a scene. Personally, I think you could both learn a thing or two from one another. You’re gonna have to put the bad vibes on hold for, like, three days, okay? Just until we finish shooting the scene. And then, if you still wanna rip each other’s throats out, I’ll film that, too.”
“So we’re shooting this scene in three days?” Castiel clarifies.
“Yes,” Gabriel replies. “And I expect both of you to be on your best behavior until then. Go get a drink, get to know each other a little better. You need to discuss specifics anyway; who’s doing who and all that.”
And with that, Gabriel leaves them.
“This is bullshit,” Dean mutters.
“At least we can agree on something,” Castiel says. “How about that drink?”
The next three days fly by quicker than Dean would have particularly liked, and before he knows it he is being led to the room where he’ll be fucking - or getting fucked by - Castiel, the boy wonder (they never did decide on the details the other night when they went to the bar - they just argued over beers and parted ways irritated and pissy). Becky, the PR girl and Casa Erotica’s blog runner, is talking a mile a minute, telling Dean about how the website is abuzz with excitement to see the final product.
“Our viewers are so excited for this, Dean, I’ve never seen anything like it,” she gushes. “You and Castiel are both so hot, and you’ve got this crazy weird chemistry; this could be super passionate or it could be straight-up hatesex. No one knows what to expect. People are making bets, Dean. There are membership fees on the line here, can you believe it? The Twitter feed has been blowing up, and people are demanding behind-the scenes photos. We’re set up to make tens of thousands of dollars on this video alone. Gabe thinks he’s gonna make it available for non-members for a small fee if all goes well enough. Well!” she grins, once they’re standing outside a nondescript white door. “Here we are! So let me in on the big secret: who’s topping?”
“I have no idea,” Dean admits. He’s starting to get a little nervous, now that he’s about to walk through this door into whatever Gabriel’s fucked-up fantasies have conjured up for them. “It hasn’t been, uh, finalized.”
Becky’s practically vibrating. “Oooh, this is so exciting!!” she squeals. “Oh, could you tell your brother I said hello? He’s been ignoring my texts…”
“Sure thing, Becky,” Dean sighs. “I’ll meet up with you after, okay? We’ll do lunch.”
Becky’s pager goes off then, and she scurries off with a perfunctory wave of her hand. Dean takes a steadying breath and goes to open the unmarked white door before him, but he stops before he can take the knob; his heart is trying to make a break for it in his chest and the feeling is wholly unwelcome. He hasn’t been this anxious since his first scene five years ago, and he has filmed more scenes for Casa Erotica in those five years than he is completely comfortable admitting. Dean Winchester makes damn good money doing what he does, and the majority of the guys he works with are really great - good actors with hot bodies and awesome personalities. Occasionally he’ll have to work with someone he isn’t crazy about; someone shy or too rough or too starstruck by Dean to properly perform, but he has never been put in a situation like he’s in now. He’s never had to put his legitimate dislike of a person aside to film a segment. But from what Becky’s said… there’s a lot riding on this video. If he and Castiel do a decent scene together, Casa Erotica could make more money than either he or Castiel have seen in both their years of doing this. That alone is enough for Dean to cowboy up and put his discomfort on hold.
The money he’ll make is worth dealing with Cas’ arrogance for a few hours.
Steeling himself, Dean turns the doorknob and walks into a pristine white room. There are people milling about; camera operators, hair and makeup techs, set designers, and Gabriel’s voice is rising above the chaos with instructions. The first familiar face Dean sees, thankfully, is Charlie’s. She’s got an enthusiastic smile plastered on her face and a clipboard in her hands. She’s chatting with a young guy holding a cup of coffee who looks a little lost. She scans the crowd before she sees Dean and points the kid toward where Gabriel’s standing, and then approaches Dean.
“Hey!” she grins. “You ready for this?”
“Not even a little bit,” Dean admits. “I’m just hoping it doesn’t turn out to be a fucking disaster.”
“Please,” Charlie says with a roll of her eyes. “You’re a professional, Dean, and so is Castiel. Don’t even pretend like you don’t think he’s dreamy as hell. He’s just your type.”
“I don’t think ‘arrogant prick’ would be considered a trait I generally go for, Charlie, but thanks for the support,” Dean mutters.
“Oh, stop,” Charlie admonishes on a sigh. “It might be tense as hell between you two, but have you ever considered that maybe this is why?” Charlie gestures around the room. “I think what you and Castiel need is a roll between the sheets and that tension will just… drift away. You can say all you want that you hate him or whatever, but I happen to know that you love his videos just as much as he loves yours.” She holds up a hand to stop any and all of Dean’s protests. “Numbers don’t lie, Winchester, and I don’t make this shit up. I’m the one who posts the videos and keeps track of traffic. Or did you forget that little tidbit?"
"Just because I watch his videos a time or two, that doesn't mean I like him," Dean says. "Maybe I just like to keep tabs on the competition."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Winchester," Charlie chuckles with a shake of her head. "So Gabe's set you and Castiel up with a q and a beforehand, like we do with the newbies. I'll be conducting that and you just have to be honest. The fans don't want you to beat around the bush with this. They want to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, okay? So if you're nervous, own up to it on camera and this whole debacle will be over before you know it." She gives Dean an encouraging smile and shoos him toward hair and makeup with a pat on the butt. "Go get 'em, tiger."
Charlie's involvement in the gay porn industry has always been a bit of a mystery to Dean; she doesn't get off on it the way Becky does, and she's not here to chase down the bisexual guys like Meg is constantly trying to do. She would probably be better suited for the opposite end of the spectrum, the lady porn, but she claims to love her job and she's ridiculously professional, so Dean figures who is he to rain on someone's pride parade.
Dean is ushered into a chair before a mirror and a stylist sets to work on his hair and his face. Castiel is seated beside him, and he and his personal stylist, Meg, are having one of their silent conversations via nods and shakes of the head as she pulls her fingers through his hair and puts a subtle line of eyeliner on him. Dean watches them surreptitiously in the mirror. His co-star catches him looking and just returns the stare with twenty times the intensity Dean puts into it. Meg smacks his shoulder and raises a brow at him, as if to say, Quit screwin' me up, Novak. Castiel gives her a small, apologetic smile before facing the mirror again.
The entire hair and makeup session is silent and awkward, and Dean and Cas keep catching one another's eye in their respective mirrors. Castiel is finished before Dean, and offers him a professional "See you on set," as he stands and turns to walk away.
When his stylist is satisfied, Dean is sent to wardrobe, where his goodies are stuffed into a pair of gorgeous black lace panties. It's not uncommon for any of the Casa Erotica stars to wear panties for a scene, but Dean in particular has an exceptional collection. He wore a pink satin thong for his first video and since then, his fans all but demand he wear something pretty before it all comes off. Today, the panties are making him feel more confident; he's in his element in something like this, and he can't help but think maybe Gabe had something to do with his wardrobe for once.
Dean is called to set while he's admiring his reflection, and it makes the butterflies in his stomach erupt full force. So with a final reminder to the Dean in the mirror that he can do this, that it's just business, and that Castiel wouldn't dare screw up their numbers by being the insufferable bastard that he is, he leaves his robe on a chair and strides casually to where Cas is seated on a king sized bed. Gabriel is behind the cameras in a director's chair, looking far too pleased with himself for anyone's good.
This is by far the most elaborate setup Dean has worked with at Casa Erotica; there's the standard bed, a chaise lounger off to the side in front of a massive picture window, and a deep clawfoot tub on the other side of the bed. Gabriel has a few ideas, apparently, and luckily for both him and Castiel, none of those ideas are incredibly kinky for once. It’s a pretty vanilla set, all things considered, but financially, Gabe must have gone all out to ensure the set was as aesthetically pleasing as possible.
Dean takes a seat beside Castiel, as far away as he can possibly be while still being in the shot, and Cas looks pissy as hell. He looks like he would literally rather be anywhere but here, and that this whole thing is just… beneath him. It makes Dean practically seethe with rage, and he suddenly cannot wait to be done with this scene.
“Dean, would it kill you to sit a little closer to Cassie?” Gabriel asks pointedly as Charlie pulls up a chair with her clipboard just barely out of frame.
“Don’t call me that, Gabriel,” Castiel says.
“Would you prefer Cas?” Gabriel asks on a long-suffering sigh. “I know how much Dean-o likes to call you Cas.”
Dean can feel his cheeks starting to heat up, because he really is the only one who shortens Castiel’s name like that, but he mostly does it because Castiel is a fucking mouthful. At least he doesn’t insist on calling him Cassie like his brother and Balthazar do, right? Right.
“Like I said, Dean, scoot in a little more. Cas isn’t going to bite you. Not yet, anyway,” Gabe adds with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.
Reluctantly, Dean moves more to the center of the bed, where Castiel is already leaning back against the headboard with his legs outstretched. He’s wearing a really flattering pair of baby blue briefs that complement his eyes and fit just snugly enough that Dean can see the shape of his penis beneath the fabric. Castiel is hot; no one in their right mind would deny it, and everyone Dean associates with within the actors at Casa Erotica say that Castiel is fucking fantastic in the sack. Privately, for as much as Dean can’t stand the guy, he’s also anticipating this, finally experiencing Cas for himself. And, god, the way Castiel seems to just despise him… Becky’s right, the chemistry between them is outrageous. Literally no one knows if they are about to fuck or fight, and if Dean’s gonna be honest with himself, he’d like to be the one to really take Cas apart. It’d be like a great big fuck you right in Castiel’s pretentious, perfectly sculpted face.
So Dean gets up into Cas’ personal space; he sprawls out right next to his co-star - so close that their bare shoulders rub up against each other and Dean’s hand has nowhere to rest but Castiel’s thigh. He shrugs at Castiel, says, “Business is business, there’s no getting out of this.”
And Cas relents, settling back and little more and finally giving Dean a good once-over. He replies, “Don’t disappoint me, Dean. See if you can keep up.”
He nods at Gabriel, and then the cameraman is counting down and Charlie is frantically organizing her notes. The little red light comes on and Gabriel whispers “Action. Charlie, go.”
"Uhm." Charlie clears her throat, and in the interim Dean leans over to whisper in Castiel's ear.
"I'm gonna tear you apart, Cas. And then you'll have to admit you like me."
"In your dreams, Dean," Castiel replies, just as quiet. "I'll have you begging to come before you even get those lovely panties off."
Dean doesn't even have the opportunity to reply. The challenge hangs in the air between them as Charlie finally speaks up.
"What's up guys? Whatcha talkin' about?" She asks.
"Just some friendly competition," Dean shrugs.
"Friendly?" Charlie asks. "Since when are you two friendly?"
"We're not. I can't stand him." Castiel says bluntly.
"Good," Charlie says. "We're all kind of hoping that animosity will come out on camera. So tell me, Castiel, why don't you like Dean?"
"He walks around the studio like he owns the place," Cas says simply. "He thinks he's hot shit just because he has this 'loyal following' of viewers, but really he's just no more than a pretty mouth."
Dean scoffs. "Please. People like me because I'm charming. Which is clearly more than we can say about you. You've been an asshole to me since the day I got hired here."
"I’m an excellent judge of character," Castiel says haughtily. "It's not my fault you come off as full of yourself."
"I'm full of myself?" Dean’s about ready to punch the motherfucker. "Charlie, can we move on to the next question? I'm gonna fucking hit him if we don't. "
"Uh, okay," Charlie says, a little awkwardly. "Dean, you've watched Castiel's videos; what's your favorite thing about them? What have you seen him do with the other guys that you'd like him to do to you today?"
Dean avoids looking at Cas when he answers. “I could be a smartass and say the best thing about Cas' scenes are the other actor, but that would be a lie," he says. "I like when he gets a little rough. I like seeing Castiel's walls come down." Here he turns to Castiel. ”Sometimes, during a scene, you become this... this completely different person. You give yourself over to whatever you're feeling. That self-satisfied aura that's usually all over you goes away. Plus, you’re fuckin’ hot. I’d be an idiot not to admit it."
"That didn't really answer the question, though," Cas smirks. "She asked what you want me to do to you today."
"What about you, Castiel?" Charlie asks. "What's the best thing about Dean’s videos?"
Castiel answer is a sure and immediate, "He makes good faces. And he talks a lot when he is enjoying himself. I can’t wait to hear him admit how great I am."
Dean doesn't even know what to say to that. Before now he's always assumed that Castiel wouldn't bother to watch his videos. So Dean just stares, speechless, at his co-star.
"Oooh, feel that sexual tension," Charlie chuckles. "How are you guys feeling? Any nervousness?"
"Yeah, I'm a little bit nervous," Dean says, coming back to himself after staring for way too long at Castiel's jawline. "I've never been put in this kind of situation before. I've either never met my co, or we're already friends going into it. But this thing with Cas is pretty far out of my comfort zone."
"Castiel, are you nervous?" Charlie asks.
"Mildly," he shrugs. "Mostly I'm just concerned that Dean won't be able to keep up."
"There is absolutely no way I won't be able to 'keep up,'" Dean scoffs. "You'd better put your money where your mouth is, Cas, or I’ll be disappointed."
"You won't be disappointed, Dean, I can promise you that."
"So who's topping today, gentlemen?" Charlie wants to know.
They both say it at the same time, and it makes the air in the room suddenly feel very thick. Gabriel is grinning a Cheshire grin from his director's chair, like today is Christmas, and Dean and Castiel are his shiny new bike sitting beneath the tree. He's practically glowing dollar signs, probably fantasizing about rolling around on mattresses covered in money.
"So you think you're gonna top?" Dean asks incredulously.
"I know I am," Cas says.
"Flip fuck!" Gabriel stage-whispers, excitement gleaming in his eyes as he throws Dean and Castiel two enthusiastic thumbs up.
Usually, Dean starts slow, eases his co-stars into the action, but if he wants any chance at all to catch Cas off guard he’ll have to be aggressive. “We’ll see,” he says in response to Castiel’s cockiness, just before diving forward and latching his mouth onto the bolt of Cas’ jaw. Dean is loath to actually admit it aloud, but he has spent countless hours watching (and rewatching, and studying every last detail of) Castiel’s videos in preparation for the day when they would inevitably have to do this. He knows all the most sensitive spots on Castiel’s body, has watched Benny and Michael and Balthazar and all the others nibble at Cas’ jaw and neck enough times to know that Cas loves it. Castiel’s permanent five o’clock shadow feels fucking amazing where it scrapes across Dean’s lips and cheeks, and that little hitch in his breath makes Dean feel bold, makes him curious to hear what other sounds he can draw from Castiel.
Cas turns his head then, takes Dean's lips in a bruising kiss, and the game is on. They lick into each other’s mouths, taste one another's breaths, and part of Dean thinks that Charlie wasn’t finished talking them through the beginning but fuck it. Cas tastes good, like black coffee and thunderstorms, and he knows just how to suck on Dean’s tongue to get him groaning into the space between their mouths and just like that it’s like the cameras all over the room aren’t even there anymore.
They lose themselves in kissing for awhile, and Dean is hardly surprised when his cock begins to take interest in the proceedings, coming to life within the lace that barely contains him. Cas is groaning now, too, and it’s nice to hear him get into it. Cas’ hand comes up to fist into Dean’s hair and he yanks him back, baring his neck and Dean can’t repress the shudder that rips through him as Castiel’s mouth latches on to his pulse and sucks hard. He pushes Cas away, his hand splayed over tanned pectoral muscles as he pins his co-star down on the mattress beneath them. Castiel’s heart is pounding a sweet symphony beneath Dean’s palm, his pupils heavy with arousal, his lips pink and wet and parted while he sucks in breath after breath, and it all makes Dean feel predatory. He’s going to take Cas apart piece by piece, going to make him walk funny for days after this is over. He’s going to litter Cas’ chest and thighs and ass cheeks with hickeys so dark he’ll have to cover them with makeup for his next video and Cas is going to have to see those marks in the mirror and remember what Dean’s mouth can do. The pompous dick will be begging for another scene with him.
Dean’s knees press Cas’ thighs apart and he leans in to reclaim Castiel’s mouth again because fuck that taste is addicting. Cas’ hands are mapping out Dean’s skin, learning the shape of his arms and back before moving to Dean’s nipples to pinch and roll them between his thumb and forefinger. Dean’s hips snap forward on instinct, rubbing his hard cock against the lean muscles of Cas’ stomach, and he catches himself whispering Cas’ name into his mouth.
“Touch me, Dean.” It sounds like a command, despite the gentleness behind it, and Dean is powerless against that voice. He runs his knuckles along the hardness within Castiel’s briefs and that’s a pleasant surprise - Cas doesn’t generally tend to get hard until his co-star is naked and sprawled out for him. Cas arches into the touch and takes Dean’s wrist in his hand to hold him there as he thrusts against Dean’s open palm. His finger catches on something wet, and when Dean looks down, the front of Cas’ briefs are already dark with precome.
“Leakin’ already, Cas?” Dean teases, quiet, but loudly enough for the cameras to pick it up. “And here I thought you didn’t like me.”
“Don’t call me tha-” his protest dies in his throat as Dean dips the tip of his middle finger just below the waistband of Cas’ underwear to gather up a drop of clear fluid pearling at the tip of his erection. Just the barest touch has Cas’ breath hitching, his cheeks going pink and damn if that’s not slowly climbing Dean’s list of Hottest Things To Ever Happen On Set.
“Let’s get these offa you, huh?” Dean murmurs, kissing Cas again and moving to pull his underwear off for him. Cas moves with him, maneuvering his hips to help slide the cotton down his thighs. Dean slides down Castiel’s body, gloriously lean and tan and absolutely fucking beautiful beneath him. Cas’ briefs land somewhere next to the bed and now Dean’s able to get his very first real life look at Cas, at all of him, and it certainly doesn’t disappoint. Cas is thick, uncut, and meticulously groomed, and Dean cannot wait to get that cock inside him. His brain is racing, trying desperately to catalogue all the different things he wants to do to Cas’ body during their limited time on set, and his own body is taking so goddamn long to catch up with his brain that it gives Cas enough time to somewhat compose himself and huff out a laugh.
“Like something you see, Dean?” he teases.
“Tryin’ to fuckin’ figure out where to start,” Dean admits.
“Well it’s hardly fair that I’m currently the only one naked,” Cas says by way of suggestion, and Dean can’t help but chuckle.
“Not just yet. Wanna suck you off first, Cas, can I?” he asks, kissing his way down Castiel’s body, dipping his tongue into Cas’ navel and nibbling at the sharp jut of his hipbone before hovering over his cock and staring up at him through his lashes. He can feel the heat rolling off of Cas’ dick in waves, can smell the headiness of his arousal as he watches Cas’ chest heave in anticipation.
Cas doesn’t answer with words, just twists his fingers into Dean’s hair again and guides his face exactly where he wants it. Dean goes willingly, taking Cas in hand and tilting the glistening tip of him towards his watering mouth. He pushes Cas’ foreskin back with his fingers as his tongue takes its first taste of Castiel Novak’s precome. Cas’ fingers tighten almost imperceptibly in Dean’s hair, urging him forward, and Dean swallows him down.
“Dean, God,” Cas gasps, and Dean has trouble not grinning, even stretched as his lips are around Cas’ girth.
He makes a show of taking Cas’ dick as far into the back of his throat as he can, impressing even himself when his nose brushes against the tight curls there at the base of him. He swallows around Cas, wrenching another punched out moan from his co-star, whose hand has loosened its hold in Dean’s hair and is now stroking his face instead. Dean pulls out all his best moves, rolling his tongue against the vein pulsing along Cas’ shaft and suckling the head and lightly scraping his teeth against the sensitive spot of Cas’ dick just below the head. Cas is thrusting into his mouth, his eyes glassy as they watch Dean take him over and over and over again. Dean’s so hard he hurts, his own cock throbbing against its lacy confines, but he refuses to take the panties off without getting Cas’ mouth on them first.
Cas, apparently, has the same idea because he’s pulling Dean off his dick by the hair and yanking him bodily upward again, his free hand palming over the front of Dean’s panties to feel the shape of him within. Cas sits up, catches Dean’s lips in a quick, surprisingly chaste kiss, and pulls him to where he’s straddling Cas’ waist. His cock is right there is Castiel’s face, and his tongue is dragging over the lace before Dean can even draw a breath. He’s staring up at Dean with this look in his eye, challenging and hungry and positively filthy and Dean can’t bring himself to look away. He mouths over Dean’s erection, his lips and tongue and teeth playing havoc with Dean’s nerves as they move against him. Cas rumbles out a moan, sucking at the tip of him where it’s peeking out from the waistband of the panties. Cas’ hands get a good grip on the waistband and riiiiiiiip, Dean’s favorite pair of panties are officially done for. Dean hears himself whimper, and he’s unsure if it’s a sound of dismay for his favorite article of on-set clothing or if it’s because the searing heat of his arousal at the display is very nearly killing him. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because Cas’ mouth is back, licking him from base to tip before swallowing him whole.
He can’t hold himself fully upright under the onslaught, has to grip the headboard behind Cas for support as Castiel’s tongue works him like he knows all of Dean’s weaknesses. There’s a manned camera right in his face behind the headboard, and Dean struggles to keep himself from looking into the lens as he bites his bottom lip, and the way his face screws up in a mix of pleasure and embarrassment at how thoroughly Cas is getting him off isn’t solely for the benefit of the camera and the viewers. Cas’ hands are kneading at his asscheeks, spreading them apart just so, and there must be another camera there, too.
Cas pulls off him so suddenly a few seconds later that it throws Dean for a second, but Cas’ voice is gravel-rough when he says, “Turn around and get down on your elbows.”
Dean wants to protest, but Cas’ voice leaves no room for argument, so he begrudgingly does as he’s told. Castiel’s intentions become clear soon enough as he lays back down on his back and maneuvers himself fully under Dean and their positions are set up perfectly for an a-plus sixty-nine. Dean spreads his legs a little more, settling more comfortably over Cas’ face, and Cas laps at his balls as he murmurs, “So good at following orders for me, Dean.” Dean is practically glowing at the praise and he doesn’t know why because this is Cas, the guy he’s supposed to hate, who’s supposed to hate him back and this scene is not at all what Dean had expected. It’s not what anyone expected, he thinks, but they really are going to make the viewers happy with this, and when the viewers are happy Gabe is happy and when he’s happy so are all the other actors and what a way to make your boss happy is all Dean can think when Cas sucks one of his balls into the wet heat of his mouth.
Dean goes to work then, too, licking just under Cas’ foreskin and making his hips buck up into the sensation before Dean’s mouth covers him fully again. Cas’ legs are splayed wide and from this vantage point Dean can’t see the tight pink pucker of his asshole but when he licks a wet stripe over Cas’ taint he swears he can feel it twitch. It makes Dean want to shove his tongue into it, and if this were anyone else he’d already be there, greedily slurping and sucking at it but this is Cas, and Dean has only seen him get rimmed once. (Privately, that video is Dean’s all-time favorite of Cas’; watching him come absolutely undone under Benny’s tongue never fails to get Dean shooting off all over himself.) He knows Cas doesn’t tend to allow someone to do something quite so intimate on set, but this video is big, the biggest Casa Erotica has ever filmed, if what Becky said is true. So really, Dean has to take the chance. Before he can talk himself out of it, Dean shuffles enough to hook his arms behind Cas’ knees and push them so his co-star is bent damn near in half. He spares a quick second to silently thank whoever’s listening for the strict yoga regimen that keeps Castiel go goddamn nimble, and then he’s pressing the tip of his tongue against his hole. Cas’ mouth stills where he’s still expertly going to town on Dean’s dick, and for a second Dean thinks he’s made a grave mistake but then Cas is moaning, deep and loud and ridiculously pleased if the way Cas’ asshole is fluttering beneath his mouth is any indication.
That’s all the encouragement Dean needs; he’s groaning into Cas’ body as he eats him out, and it shouldn’t be possible with the guy’s current position but somehow Castiel is rolling his hips into it, trying to take Dean’s tongue deeper into him. Dean sinks two fingers into Cas - sincerely hoping that the camera hovering just to his left is catching all this - and spreads them just enough for his tongue to flick against the stretched rim of his partner. Cas detaches from his dick with a high-pitched whine, trying so so hard to press back against Dean’s fingers and mouth.
“Taste so fuckin’ good, Cas,” Dean says, unsure if Castiel can even hear him from this angle, before diving back in.
Cas’ hands leave him, too, just long enough for Cas to get the pillows propped up under his neck and shoulders, and then the hands are back, spreading Dean’s cheeks apart and holy fuck Cas is returning the favor. He presses Dean’s thighs further apart, coaxing his hips down far enough to where Dean is practically riding Cas’ face, and Dean is absolutely certain that even if the camera here isn’t picking up a good shot of Cas’ soaking wet hole, the camera behind him is getting an excellent view of Dean’s. Cas’ mouth against him feels like heaven; it feels like burying the hatchet. Something in the air changes then. There’s no more antagonism in the room, no more leaden weight of dislike. It’s just work now, as it should have been from the beginning, and this is fast becoming the best and most enjoyable scene Dean has ever shot in his half-decade of working here. The chemistry between them is palpable, the fire of their shared arousal even moreso, and Dean is suddenly desperate to be sheathed fully inside Castiel.
He sits up, sparing Cas’ cock one last teasing lick, and says, “I wanna fuck you now, Cas, please.”
Castiel spears his tongue deeply into the reception of Dean’s body again, his hands guiding Dean’s hips to move in tight little circles over his face, and Dean groans in frustrated agony.
“Please, Cas,” he begs, and Cas pulls away from his hole to deliver a sharp bite to one of Dean’s asscheeks.
“Say it right and I’ll let you fuck me.”
It takes Dean a little longer than he’s proud of to pick up what Cas is laying down, but when he does he rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh.
“Castiel,” he growls, turning himself around so that he’s facing his co-star. He pins Cas’ wrists to the bed beside his shoulder and says again, “I really wanna fuck you now.”
Cas is just staring up at him now, his gaze intense and focused as he searches Dean’s face. “You are even prettier in person when you look like this,” he says. “Take me over to the chaise lounge and fuck me, then, Dean. Can’t have all of Gabriel’s hard work go to waste.”
“Cut!” Gabriel bellows, and the sound of his voice startles Dean and Castiel both. “Deliver the lines again, Cassie, but this time don’t say my name before you get fucked, it’s weird!”
Cas scoffs. “I cannot call Dean pretty again without it sounding scripted, Gabriel.” He turns to Dean then, rolling his eyes and looking extremely annoyed. “Not that you don’t actually look gorgeous, Dean, it’s far better than watching your videos.”
Dean doesn’t even try to hide his smile. The tension between them, the animosity they’re known for, is all but gone now. “Just edit the last part out if you’re so worried about it, Gabe.” He pushes himself up and off of Cas, stepping off the bed and walking alongside Cas across the room toward the chaise. Dean kicks at the tattered remains of his panties as he passes them, letting out a disappointed sigh as he does so, and Castiel smiles, just a little bit.
“I may have gotten a little overzealous,” he says by way of apology. “Would you allow me to buy you a new pair?”
Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “Sure, Cas, you can totally buy me a new pair of black lacy panties.” He pauses, gears himself up for what he wants to say next. “Listen, man, I just-”
Cas holds a hand up to stop him. “I think I know what you’re going to say, but…” he sighs. “Now’s not the time, Dean. Charlie will be interviewing us again after the scene is over. Save what you have to say for then, alright?”
“Alright, Cas, I gotcha.” Cas arches a brow at him. “Sorry, Castiel.”
In all the commotion, both their erections have flagged a little, and a pair of fluffers scamper over to coax them back to full hardness while Dean and Castiel discuss positions with Gabriel. Dean grunts in a pleased kind of surprise when the fluffer’s hand, slick with lube, wraps firmly around his cock and jerks him nice and slow. He’s always wonders what the application process for a job like that must be like, but he doesn’t know any of the fluffers well enough to ask outright, so he just listens to Gabriel and enjoys the lazy hand job.
The cameras don’t come back on until Cas is in position, on all fours at the foot of the lounger, and Dean’s condom is firmly in place. When Gabriel calls action, Dean is already two fingers deep inside Cas’ hole, opening him up further for the benefit of the camera. It doesn’t take Dean long to get Cas ready, their pre-scene preparations having already been done during their showers earlier, and before Dean knows it he has one foot propped up on the lounger beside Cas and he’s pushing slowly inside. Cas is, if possible, even harder than he was before, his cock dripping precome onto the leather underneath him. Cas feels even better inside than Dean dared to imagine, searing hot and tighter than he’d anticipated. Cas is fluttering around him, his body struggling somewhat to adjust, but his hips cant backward as soon as Dean bottoms out and they’re both gritting their teeth with the effort it takes to remain still.
“Move, Dean.” Castiel’s voice is heavy, syrupy and slurred in a way that Dean hadn’t expected, and it makes him groan through the first thrust.
It’s like magic after that. They move together like they’ve been doing this for years, their bodies mysteriously attuned to one another in a way Dean’s never had before. Cas’ voice rings out above the sounds of their skin slapping together, whimpering and directing Dean’s thrusts deeper and harder and Jesus Christ, Dean, right there, fuck.
As good as this is, though, there’s no denying that it’s still work, that there are still cameras surrounding them and preventing them both from enjoying this time they way Dean would like to be. They’re still acting, and it makes Dean unsure if the fucking incredible noises Cas keeps making are real, or if they’re merely for the benefit of the viewers who’ll be watching this later. Dean’s own grunts and groans aren’t an act; Cas is like a wild animal beneath him, pressing back against him, digging his fingernails into the leather under his hands, lifting a hand every once in awhile to stroke himself for the camera. Dean’s spreading Cas’ asscheeks apart, watching himself sink inside of him time and time again, and there’s a camera right there by his left shoulder, capturing the same thing Dean can’t tear his eyes away from.
“Fuck, Cas,” he groans, “so fuckin’ hot inside.”
“Fuck me harder, Winchester, I’m not going to break,” Castiel growls back.
So Dean does. He slams forward with enough force then to knock Cas’ elbows out from under him, smushing his cheek into the lounger. Cas moans again, his asshole clenching tight around Dean’s cock and that’s not for show, not an act at all. Castiel’s hands scramble for purchase and Dean beds forward to map out the expanse of skin before him with his mouth and fingertips, one hand splayed over taut abdominals while the other can’t quite figure out which part of his partner it wants to touch the most. Cas’ thighs quiver beneath his fingertips, his balls draw up tight when Dean rolls them in his hand, his cock is wet and twitching in Dean’s grip, and Dean had heard stories about the responsiveness of Cas’ body but this is unreal. Dean’s getting way too close way too fast and he has to pull out before he embarrasses himself.
The suddenness of his withdrawal has Cas’ hole gaping and clenching around nothing, and it seems to bring Cas back to himself. There’s challenge in the guy’s face as he pushes Dean back toward the bed, shoving him onto his back and straddling Dean’s hips. Castiel’s intent is clear in his eyes, lining Dean’s cock up and sinking right down onto it. Dean’s breath catches in his throat, and the moan that scrapes unbidden from his throat is probably the most undignified sound Dean has ever made, but how can he care about that when there’s this? Cas’ hips move with a fluid kind of grace, alternating between rolling in precise, tight little circles and sliding almost all the way off of Dean’s dick before slamming back down on to him. Dean is seeing stars, his vision narrowed down to the lithe body hovering over him; Cas’ heavily lidded eyes, the flush that paints his cheeks and tanned chest and turns Castiel into a living, fucking, breathing work of art.
For awhile, Dean is able to move in tandem with Castiel, meeting each roll of Cas’ hips with one of his own, but it soon becomes too much for both of them. Castiel slows and leans forward, the change in angle surprising them both, and Dean gasps into Cas’ mouth as his co-star draws him into a kiss. He has no idea where any of the cameras are, isn’t even sure if they’re still there or if the rest of the world has actually melted away as Dean suspects. But then Cas says the magic words and, once again, everything changes.
“Dean, I’m ready to switch. I want to fuck you now.”
So Dean allows his erection to come free of Cas’ body, and there’s a momentary lapse where he removes his own condom and allows Castiel to press his fingers inside him, learning the give and clench of his muscles. This part will be edited out later, Dean knows, but he nearly wishes it wouldn’t. Their fans would love this, this quiet interval where the only sounds in the room are the hitches of their shared breaths, the slick slide of Cas’ fingers driving into his body, the needy noises that creep their way up Dean’s throat as Castiel grinds the pad of his middle finger over his prostate. Someone in the room - an intern, maybe - hands Cas a condom and everything goes silent again as he rolls the latex down his length one-handed, those questing fingers of his other hand never pausing in their ministrations.
“Cas,” Dean very nearly whines when that hand disappears from him, leaving him cold and gaping and far too empty for Dean’s liking.
And then Cas is there, his face millimeters from Dean’s as he guides his legs around his waist and moves to push inside, but before he can Gabriel is calling “Cut!” again and demanding that they reposition because their proximity is getting in the way of the camera’s shot.
“I need to see the initial penetration, fellas!” he shouts, and Dean is irrationally annoyed with him because Cas’ cock head is right there, the tip of him snug as fuck against his hole and it is taking every ounce of self-control left in Dean’s body to not dig his heels into Cas’ back and push the fucker inside because fuck.
So Cas moves away, just a little, just enough to sit back on his haunches and take Dean’s thighs in his hands, spreading them wide for the camera. Penetration is a slow, torturous thing; Cas takes his time bottoming out, pressing the head inside before pulling out again, pushing in further and pulling out again. When he is finally fully seated within Dean it feels like it’s taken hours, like Castiel is intentionally trying to draw out the pleasure for as long as he can. There’s a moment of absolute silence, a moment where Dean can hardly breathe around the tightness in his throat. Cas is thick, throbbing against the walls of his body and it’s like time stands still. Dean plants his legs, one over Cas’ shoulder and the other flat on the bed to perfect this absolutely fucking glorious angle they’ve got going.
Cas drives his hips forward, and time breaks. He’s got a hand planted on Dean’s hip, the other roughly squeezing his thigh, and his thrusts are deep, harsh, punishing in their intensity. It would hurt, Dean thinks absently, if he hadn’t filmed that double penetration video with Benny and the biggest dildo Dean’s ever seen just a week ago. That had been fun, a kinky romp into unfamiliar territory with his best friend, and it hits Dean again just how different this scene is from all the others he’s done. Cas is groaning above him, his voice positively wrecked when it punches out of him in shocked, debauched grunts like he hadn’t expected Dean to feel the way he does.
“Dean,” he pants. “Good God. Are you close?”
“Yeah,” Dean gasps in return, unsure if it’s an answer to Cas’ question or a response to the way Cas’ dick keeps dragging over Dean’s prostate on each outward thrust.
Dean moves to take himself in hand, to stroke himself to climax for the camera, but Castiel slaps his hand out of the way with a feral growl.
“I’ve seen you come untouched on command, Dean, and you will do so for me today.”
Dean whimpers, unsure of why the commanding tone of Castiel’s voice and his manner of speech make Dean so hot under the collar, but goddamn if Dean doesn’t want to give Cas exactly what he’s asked for. It takes more than that, usually, for him to work up to coming without a hand on his cock. It takes a few days at least of denying himself of release, planning and mentally preparing himself. Castiel says he’s seen Dean do it at someone’s demand and he’s right, but Cas has been in the industry for longer than Dean has, knows that that’s not really something a person can just do on command. But the way Cas is spearing him open, filling him up so completely and expertly ramming his cock into that sweet sweet bundle of nerves inside him, it makes Dean think he can probably do it.
So he nods, urges, “Yeah, Cas, more, c’mon,” and Cas complies at once. They’re sweating, skin sliding against skin, Castiel’s dark mop of hair plastered to his forehead and logically Dean knows it’s barely been a half hour that they’ve been at this, an hour at the very most since the cameras came on, but it feels like he has been naked against Castiel’s body for weeks and he has been ruined. His voice will sound fucked-out for days after this, the bruises Cas’ fingers are leaving on his body so dark they’ll be nearly black and Dean will be the one that has to cover his marks with concealer for his next scene. It doesn’t matter, though, because Castiel inside him, moving within him and over him and against him, makes him forget the cameras and Gabriel and Becky and Charlie and the contempt they’ve felt toward each other for five years in favor of just basking in the attention that Cas lavishes him with. He finds himself craving more of this, more videos with Castiel that include plugs and vibrators and rimming each other to completion.
Cas does something different with his hips then, snaps them forward with such force that Dean is hurdled head-first back into the present with a cry that sounds like his own, that comes out as Cas’ name.
“You’re going to come, Dean,” Cas says, his voice deep and authoritative. “You will come when I tell you to and you will say my name when you do it, is that understood?”
And yes, Dean can do it. He already feels his release, heavy in the pit of his stomach where it awaits Castiel’s permission. His cock is throbbing painfully, drooling out thick clear ribbons of precome onto his stomach. Cas swells impossibly thicker inside him, groaning through the twitch of Dean’s asshole around the girth of him. Their breaths are coming even quicker now, Dean’s pulse pounding behind his temples and tunneling his vision so all he can see is Cas.
“Now, Dean.” It comes out of Cas in a rush of breath and that’s all it takes. Dean’s back is arching off the bed, his vision going white and he is vaguely aware of a camera in his face to capture his expression, even less aware of his voice crying out Castiel’s name - the whole mouthful this time - as he goes rigid with his orgasm.
There’s not even enough time for a change in camera angle before Cas is pulling his cock out of Dean and tearing the condom off, jerking himself in quick strokes of his hand. Castiel groans through his completion, hot splashes of come scalding Dean where it paints his chest and mixes with his own congealing climax. Dean has just enough presence of mind to watch Cas’ face as he comes, his head tipping back and his mouth parting as he tries to draw breath but can’t. When the last of his release is wrung from him Cas leans forward, his tongue darting out to lick up the come quickly cooling on Dean’s sweat-drenched skin.
Dean moans at the feeling, murmurs, “Lemme get some of that,” and Cas kisses him deep and slow, sharing the bitter tang of their mixed climax on his tongue.
“Cut!” Gabriel shouts, for the last time today, hopefully, and he sounds damn near exhilarated. “That’s the money shot, guys, that was fucking perfect! Christ, if I’d known it was gonna be like that I’d have made this happen months ago! Jesus, Cassie, Dean, I could fucking kiss you both right now. Do you even realize how rich you two are about to be? I’m talkin’ Oprah-rich, here, boys, I mean just -”
“Gabe,” Dean says breathlessly, still trying to regain his composure as Cas flops down on his back beside him. “Shut the fuck up and let me bask in this afterglow.”
There’s an intern across the room filling up the clawfoot tub with hot water and suds, and Dean almost wants to laugh at the cheesiness. Gabriel’s going to put them in a bath together for their post-shoot interview with Charlie and this very rarely happens. But they both have such a loyal following, and this video is such a huge deal that they almost have to. The viewers will undoubtedly want to know where they stand now, and honestly, Dean’s dying to know, too.
Gabriel gives them a few moments to come down from the high that follows a shoot like the one they just did, but he’s rousing them from the comfort of the mattress before either of them are fully composed. Cas gets into the tub first, hissing at the heat of the water as he slides down to sit with his back against the porcelain. He helps keep Dean steady as he climbs in, his entire body tender with a pleasant kind of burn. The little red light on the stationary camera at the front of the tub is on, and Cas is absently running a wet rag over Dean’s tense shoulders, the heat of the water almost as relaxing as the scent of the lavender oil in the bubbles.
Charlie is grinning from ear to ear when she pulls up a folding chair just barely out of frame. “Well!” She begins, apparently at a bit of a loss as to what to say. “That was… well, that was something else, guys. How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” Dean responds on a satisfied sigh.
“Very relaxed,” Cas chuckles, his breath ghosting over the shell of Dean’s ear as he speaks.
“So about that rivalry…” Charlie lets her voice trail off, leaving Dean and Castiel to reply however they see fit.
“What rivalry?” Castiel asks, sounding genuinely confused.
“Yeah, I dunno what the hell you’re talking about,” Dean shrugs, glancing back at Cas and laughing. “No, but seriously, I think we’ve worked out our differences.”
Castiel nods in agreement. “When I found out we were going to be doing this, I admit I was… less than pleased. That displeasure seemed to increase tenfold each time I attempted to commiserate with someone and they would say something like -”
Dean cuts him off here, playfully mocking both Beck and Charlie when he says, “You guys have crazy weird chemistry, all you and Castiel need is a roll between the sheets and the animosity wil just melt away, blah blah blah.”
“Exactly,” Cas chuckles.
“Pretty fucked up that all our friends were right, huh?”
“Pleasantly fucked up, perhaps.”
Charlie’s face is so smug Dean thinks he cansmell it coming off her in waves. “Guess that’s just proof that your friends know you better than you know yourselves.”
“I guess so,” Dean says, turning his head to take Cas’ lips in another kiss because he just can't stop.
Charlie is asking Cas another question and Dean isn't listening, choosing instead to lean back against his co-star's chest and just revel in a scene well-done.
The video goes up two days later. Cas sends Dean a text early in the day, while Dean is drinking his first cup of coffee and reading the news on his phone. The text is simple, a casual invitation for Dean to stop by Castiel’s apartment later on, when the video’s set to be uploaded onto the website, so they can see the finished product together. It should be an awkward invitation for Dean to accept, but he finds himself excited to see what Casa Erotica’s video editors have done, to see if all Dean’s favorite parts of their scene together were captured well on camera.
It’s only a few hours and a pot of coffee later that Dean finds himself outside Cas’ building, being buzzed in and directed to the large elevator at the end of the hall by Castiel’s gravelly voice. Dean rolls his eyes as he punches the button for the top floor, unsurprised that Cas lives in the penthouse suite of the most luxurious apartment building in the city. When the elevator doors open, Dean lets out a low whistle. Cas’ apartment is gorgeous, all open floor plan and marble countertops and chrome fixtures and a loft bedroom and walls upon walls upon walls of nothing but bookshelves. Wealth suits Castiel; not in the pompous way Dean would have once assumed, but in the refined, elegant, classy way that just screams Cas.
Castiel is standing at the island counter, a beer for each of them in hand. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen Cas dressed so casually - or, for that matter, so completely - wrapped in a navy blue sweater that’s at least two sizes too big for him and a pair of jeans with worn holes in the knees.
Dean finds himself grinning as he says, “That look works for you.”
Cas tilts his head just the slightest bit, his eyebrows furrowing in mild confusion. It’s fucking adorable, truth be told. “Was that meant to be a flirtation?”
Dean gives him a flat look, “You fuck guys on camera and you don’t know flirting when you hear it?”
“Outside of work, I’m afraid I’m not nearly as well-versed in the world of dating as most others,” Cas says.
“You don’t date?” Dean asks, surprised. “Why not?”
“I have no illusions about my eccentricities, Dean, and unfortunately it’s not easy to find someone who’s attracted to my particular brand of oddness beyond a casual physical fling.”
“I dunno, Cas,” Dean shrugs. “I think if someone were to give you a chance they’d warm up to your weird pretty damn quick. I did.”
Cas doesn’t give a verbal response to that, just smiles that ghost of a smile and leads Dean to the living room, where a suede sectional sofa sits in front of an enormous flat screen television. Cas offers Dean another smile, big and real and undeniably proud this time, when he sees Dean’s eyes go wide.
“I’m willing to bet you’ve never watched pornography on a seventy-two inch high definition television before,” Cas says, and there’s a hint of teasing in his voice.
“Nope, can’t say I have,” Dean replies. “My laptop usually gets the job done.”
“Not like this, it doesn’t,” Castiel tells him. He checks his phone and turns on the tv. “Charlie promised she would let me know the second it’s online, and we will be among the first viewers.”
They’re both finishing their second beer, Cas coming back from the kitchen with a third in each hand, when Charlie’s text (my magnum opus is live, gentlemen. enjoy!) comes through and Castiel is navigating the Casa Erotica website from his remote control. The video, when Cas finds it, has a simple title and description (Dean and Castiel flip fuck - Dean and Cas work through their career-long rivalry with a good, old-fashioned fuck), and Dean’s heart is racing as Cas presses play.
The video is long, longer than any of Dean’s others by about twenty minutes, finishing off at forty-seven minutes and eighteen seconds long. Gabriel’s directing is superb, and Charlie’s editing collaboration with Ash comes out flawlessly. Watching on Castiel’s gigantic tv is a little disconcerting; Dean can see every blemish in his skin, but he can also see each and every eyelash Castiel has, the darker portions of baby blue irises. He can practically count his own freckles. Cas looks good, miles and miles of perfectly tanned flesh and lean, rolling mucles.
“Wow, Cas,” Dean says, his breath coming quick and the alcohol in his system doing absolutely nothing to cool the heat pulsing through him. The look on Castiel’s face when he sinks into Dean, the flutter of those lashes, it’s just as beautiful in HD as it had been in real life.
“I could say the same to you,” Cas says in return, his voice coming out strained as the camera pans to Dean, flushed and making these wounded animal kinds of noises that he hadn’t even known he was capable of. “I’ve always loved the way you sound when you’re being penetrated.”
“I like the way you give orders,” Dean tells him, his cock coming to life in his jeans at the memory. “And the way you growl.”
“You’re a good kisser. And your body is very responsive.”
“Yours, too. Man, the way you twitch when it feels good, you can tell that’s not just for show.”
Cas nods. “Yes, the majority of my reactions with you were very genuine. I didn’t expect to enjoy our scene as much as I did. You are very talented, Dean.”
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean smiles, his chest feeling light at the praise in Cas’ voice. “You’re super hot and I wouldn’t mind doing another scene with you soon.”
“I believe I have finally figured out why I disliked you so much for as long as I did,” Cas says quietly.
“I felt threatened by you when Gabriel hired you. He wouldn’t shut up about this new golden boy he’d found. He kept telling me, ‘You should see him, Cassie, he’s so hot and the viewers will eat him up.’ He said, ‘He’s going to be our new star, Castiel,’ and I couldn’t handle that. I was the star. I didn’t want someone else to come in and take my place.” His voice is quiet, and Dean can barely hear him over the sound of their moans, the wet slapping of skin against skin emanating from the television.
“This some sorta confessional now, Cas?” Dean teases.
“It can be. Why, do you have something you would like to confess as well?” Castiel teases right back.
And Dean does. There’s a fire bubbling just under the surface of his skin, and it has nowhere to go except into Castiel’s mouth. “I wanna kiss you, Cas. Wanna kiss you for real, without cameras watching us. Wanna know if I can get you to make the same noises you did the other day. Can I?”
“Doesn’t Gabriel have some kind of rule about taking our work home with us?” Castiel asks him, moving closer even as he says it and resting his hand high up on Dean’s thigh. The heat of his palm is searing even through denim, and that chemistry that Becky and Charlie talked about is sparking between them even now, away from the studio and the atmosphere and the unavoidability of a scene.
“I don’t really care,” Dean murmurs, dragging his lips over the stubble of Cas’ jaw. There’s an expression for what he’s feeling, this desperation to be pressed against Cas, the way it feels like this is something they have always been leading up to; unavoidable, unstoppable, inevitable. Somethin’ about wild horses… “This ain’t about work anymore, Cas, I’m just really into you.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Castiel breathes, before sealing their lips together at last.
In the background, Charlie is conducting their post-scene interview, smile evident in her voice as she directs a question to Castiel. “We know how much you hate nicknames, Castiel, but it seems like you can’t really escape ‘Cas’ anymore. What do you think of that?”
Dean remembers the look on Cas’ face as he’d glanced at Dean before answering, the quiet and secretive smile that was more in his eyes than on his face when he says, “I think it’s growing on me.”
And Dean can live with that.