Dean stretched as he woke up and realized there was a body in front of him in the bed. It was still dark, so he reached out a hand and slid it over the hip. Sharp bone, definitely male. He didn't remember how he'd ended up in his present situation, but he had to assume it was sexual. He let his hand explore the body in front of him, sliding it over the firm, round ass, taut stomach, and muscular bicep.
He felt himself harden against the man's ass and he rolled his hips forward, pressing a kiss to the guy's shoulder as he did. The man let out a pleased, breathy sound, low and deep. Dean couldn't recognize the voice, but he took it as a positive response and a sign to keep going.
He let his hand slide from bicep to pectoral, over abs and back to hip bone. He continued kissing and licking along the man's shoulder. Then his hand passed from hip bone to soft curly public hair and the man's breath caught in a gasp. Dean boldly reached further to grasp a cock that was hard and heavy. He gave it a couple of tight strokes, rolling his hips in tandem before a broken, needy whisper made him freeze.
Dean's whole body jerked in shock and he was up and off the bed before he even remembered how to breathe. Because that was Cas' voice. His best friend who wasn't even at the party he'd gone to—and more importantly had not known he was bisexual. Just how drunk had he gotten?
"Cas? Oh, God, I'm sorry, I don't—" He stopped because what could he even say? What excuse could he give?
"Dean, it's all right. There are obviously some things we need to talk about." Cas had sat up and turned on the lamp. Now he leaned over the side of the bed and pulled on some shorts. Then he stood up and Dean was in too much shock to wonder why he wasn't wearing clothes. "So, I guess, first of all, you should know I'm bisexual. Or possibly pan. Regardless, gender is not a big issue for me with regard to sex."
Dean, still having trouble bringing oxygen into his body said, "Oh." He just stared at Cas, gorgeous as fuck in nothing but boxers, and tried to remember how thinking worked.
Cas sighed. "How much of tonight do you remember?"
“Not, um, not much—did we, you know, um....”
He couldn’t seem to form sentences and he couldn’t ask what he wanted so desperately to know. Because to say the words was to admit he’d touched his best friend’s cock. Worse, it might lead to Cas’ realization that Dean had liked it. Worst of all, Cas might realize just how long Dean had been wanting to do it.
Then again, if they had already had sex, then it was okay, right? That would mean Cas already knew that he liked it and... Dean shook his head to stop his runaway thoughts. Cas had finally worked out what Dean was trying to ask and was opening his mouth to answer.
“No, Dean. We didn’t. You’re still dressed, or hadn’t you noticed?” Cas asked, with a pointed looked at where Dean was in fact still clad in a T-shirt and briefs.
“Oh,” Dean said again—because apparently he’d lost his vocabulary along with his memories. He shook his head again to try and clear it. “Um. Sorry, I just... everything is a blur, I guess. There was the party and... Benny told me I was drunk and I think I told him I was on my first drink....” Dean’s eyes got wide. “Dude, I think I got roofied,” he said in shock.
“What?” Cas asked, face full of concern. “Are you sure?”
“No, but... I think I did, man. I remember I got a drink from that asshole Al that lives downstairs with Luke. And I drank some of it and I was still working on it when Benny told me I was drunk.” Dean walked over and sank down on the bed. “Benny believed me when I said I’d only had one, but he got me a cab. Or I guess he did. He said he was going to and told me to sit and not move, but... I don’t really remember anything after that until....” Dean stopped, gesturing at the bed.
“I’m so glad nothing happened to you, Dean.” He took a cautious step forward. “You showed up here and said you came in a cab, so I presume Benny did get one for you. Apparently, the driver was decent enough to walk you to the door.” Cas’ mouth twisted unhappily. “Well, probably carry you, really. You could barely stand.” Cas sniffed and cleared his throat. “I was already in bed, half asleep. You let yourself in and came straight in here. Said you needed to crash and—and I am quoting here,” Cas said with a smirk. “’Fuck that couch.’”
Dean had to laugh a little at that. Cas’ couch was incredibly uncomfortable and he’d never liked sleeping on it. He usually just put up with it, though.
“And you let me just crawl in bed with you?” Dean asked, incredulous.
“Obviously. You’re my best friend and you said you needed my help.” Cas shrugged. “I gave it.”
Dean couldn’t help his sarcastic response. “Typically help is given while wearing pants, I think.”
Cas narrowed his eyes into a dead stare. “I sleep nude, Dean. Beggars can’t be choosers, but mouthy friends who wake me up, steal my bed and repay my kindness by—”
“All right, all right, I’m sorry,” Dean said, color creeping up his face. “You’re right.” He blew out a breath. “And me too on the, uh, the, you know, the bisexual thing.” He couldn’t make himself meet Cas’ gaze, but he managed to stare at his cheekbone and Dean called that a win.
“Oh,” Cas said. Maybe it was catching.
When Dean forced himself to look at him, Cas looked stunned. Then he seem to mentally shake himself and spoke again.
“Well, I mean, I guess I assumed that I had... I don’t know. Maybe put your hand where it was or something.” Cas wasn’t a blusher, but Dean suspected he would be blushing now if he were prone to it.
“Oh.” You know other words, Dean. “You didn’t. I, um....” Dean swallowed dryly. “I sorta woke up assuming you were a one night stand and I kinda thought I’d get in a round two I could remember.”
Cas let out his deep, ridiculous laugh that only happened when a joke caught him by surprise. “Well. Unfortunately for me, there was no round one. Round two was pretty good while it lasted, though.” He laughed again. Then he dropped his gaze and, more seriously, said, “Me and my big mouth, I guess.”
“You would’ve, you know, wanted to? With me?” Dean asked in an awed voice.
Cas’ eyes flew wide and he gaped at Dean. “Have you ever seen a mirror, Dean? Inanimate objects want to ‘you know’ with you.”
Dean’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Of course. I just... I thought you meant... something else.”
Cas’ voice was quiet. “Something like what?” he asked.
”Nothing. Forget it.”
“No,” Cas said, a little louder and sharply enough to make Dean’s head snap up to look at him. “I mean, just, please,” he said, taking a few steps closer and sitting on the foot of the bed. “Tell me what you mean.”
There was something in his expression that made Dean want to be honest, instead of deflecting again. “I just thought maybe you wanted something more than that. More than just a one night stand. Wanted me for me and not just... because I’m pretty or whatever.” It hurt more than he expected to say it out loud.
“Dean, I—you don’t date people. You sleep with people. I never thought you’d want something more than that.” Cas looked like he was afraid to be hopeful.
Dean steeled himself against the inevitable rejection and said, “You mean I don’t date people who aren’t you, Cas. And I don’t sleep with people as often as you think I do.”
Cas slid closer on the bed. “You... want to date me?” His voice was high and disbelieving.
“Well, right now, you’re sitting here next to me in nothing but a pair of briefs, smelling like fucking cinnamon and sex, and I can’t stop thinking about what your dick felt like in my hand—so at the moment I would rather sleep with you, if I’m totally honest, but afterward, yeah, I’d like to go on a fucking date with you and hold your hand and fucking do all that shit couples do together.”
Cas had a small smile on his face now. “You swear a lot when you’re being romantic.”
“I fucking do not,” Dean said, a smile teasing up one corner of his mouth.
Cas’ smile widened and then disappeared as he closed the space between them and pressed his warm, soft lips to Dean’s. The kiss deepened and didn’t stop until they were both breathless and panting.
“I don’t have sex before the first date,” Cas said huskily. “But luckily for you, Bill Clinton said blow jobs weren’t sex.”
“God bless the democrats,” Dean said as Cas pushed him back on the bed and knelt between his thighs.
Cas leaned forward and kissed Dean again, their chests pressed together. It was almost everything Dean wanted. Then Cas settled his hips between Dean’s, lifing his face to look at Dean with those oceans he called eyes—and Dean knew what a perfect moment felt like.
Dean lifted up, captured Cas’s mouth with lips and teeth and tongue and refused to let go for the time being. They kissed and rocked their erections together until they were both panting and on the verge of explosion.
Then Cas moved his mouth from Dean’s and down along his jaw, under his chin, licking and scraping his teeth in a line down the front of his throat. He licked the little hollow at the base of Dean’s throat, then pressed a kiss there.
“C’mon, Cas,” Dean whispered. “Don’t tease me,” he pleaded, rocking his hips up.
So Cas satisfied himself with touching Dean’s chest with his hands as he slid down Dean’s body. Dean felt every point of contact like a live wire against his skin. Every cell of him seemed to be sending messages directly to his dick, even the ones in his shins. If Dean had ever been asked his erogenous zones, nothing south of his thighs would previously have been included. Apparently when it came to being touched by Cas, everywhere on his body was a potential point of arousal.
Cas’s long tapered fingers were magical as they swept over him. His thick lips were pressing kisses ever downward until his mouth reached the soft thatch of blond curls above Dean’s aching cock. He looked up at Dean then and Dean’s dick jumped just from the heavy eye contact.
Cas kissed the curls, using his cheek to lift Dean’s cock away from his body. The feel of Cas’s stubble against his erection was unlike anything Dean had ever experienced. No other man had ever touched him quite like this. Usually it was fast and dirty, over too fast to take in details.
Then Cas pressed the first kiss against the base of his cock, where the curls ended, and Dean let out a breathy sound through his nose. Cas pulled away, grinning.
“I’m sorry. You said not to tease, didn’t you?” he asked before licking his lips and swallowing half of Dean’s dick.
“Aw, fuck!” Dean cried out at the warm, wet suction that felt like heaven.
Cas pulled back only to slide down again, his tongue working across the bottom of Dean’s shaft as his lips slid up and down. Soon he had a rhythm going and used his hand to cup at Dean’s balls. His other hand held Dean’s thigh out of the way.
“So good, Cas,” Dean panted, thrashing his head and sliding the leg Cas wasn’t holding up and down. It was the only way to release the pent up tension of the amazing feelings.
Then Cas pulled away. “Is it... too late to change my mind?” he asked and Dean had to take a minute to remember what words meant.
“About... oh.” That word again. “Sex? You... you want to?” Cas nodded, looking almost shy. “You have lube?”
“Yes and condoms,” Cas said.
“Then why aren’t you getting them? Come on!” Dean growled, like the needy, bossy bottom that he was.
Cas carefully prepped him and by the end of it, Dean’s thighs were shaking. He knew he wouldn’t last long. In fact, as soon as Cas slid halfway inside him and bumped his prostate, Dean had to grab the base of his dick to keep from coming right then and there.
Seeing the effect he was having unleashed something in Cas. He stopped trying to take his time. As soon as he was all the way inside, he was drawing out and pounding in again. Dean felt stretched and filled and amazing. Cas wasn’t going to last long, either, so Dean removed his hand from the base of his cock and started to stroke it.
“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” he said, staring up into Cas’s eyes.
“Dean,” Cas panted. “Wanted this for years,” he said. He fell forward to take Dean in a sloppy kiss that was wild and needy, saying everything he wasn’t putting into words.
“Me too, Cas,” Dean said as they broke apart. Cas looked at him in wonder and wrapped his hand around Dean’s where he was stroking himself.
Dean came like a hurricane, shaking and shouting and getting everything wet with his release. Cas lifted up and pushed Dean’s thighs higher, chasing his own pleasure. He pistoned his hips like a jackhammer, slamming into Dean over and over until he lost his rhythm and came too, buried deep within Dean as the last tremors wracked his body.
When he could breathe normally again, Dean lifted his head to peer down at Cas. “Not a bad first date, huh?”
Cas glared at him. “This was not a first date, Dean. I still expect... what was it? ‘Hand holding and all that shit?’”
“You’re bossy when you’re post-coital,” Dean said with a grin. Then his eyes softened. “Whatever you want, Cas.”
Cas’s expression grew fond. “You,” he said. “I want you.”