Chapter Text
A/N - Explicit Dean/Cas. This is set in a season-8-ish world: Purgatory was not all that long ago, Sam and Dean have moved into the bunker, Cas still has his wings.
The really great thing about the bunker was the privacy.
Not that Dean had really minded having to share the endless string of motel rooms with Sam. They'd grown up like that; they were used to it. Sam and Dean actually worked pretty well as roommates, in fact. Over the years they'd worked out a set of reasonable compromises about room clutter and whose stuff went where and so on, and they usually managed not to get on each other's nerves too often. And they knew each other's quirks.
And, of course, one of those "quirks", kind of a big one actually, was each other's, well... personal habits. Or to put it more bluntly: they had learned to give each other enough privacy to jerk off.
Rather like a pair of college roommates, they'd wordlessly worked out a compromise schedule without ever quite openly discussing it. Showers were a given, of course; that gave each of them a guaranteed jerk-off moment each morning. And if either one of them got in the habit of two or three showers a day, or took an unusually long shower, you just didn't ask for details, now, did you?
In addition to the morning showers (and sometimes evening showers), Sam would usually go running at least once a day, which gave Dean a good solid hour alone. Sam was diligent about not returning home before the hour was up, even if he was only really doing a half-hour run. Once Sam was back from his run Dean would usually go out for a walk, or head to a nearby bar for a drink before dinner, to give Sam a good solid evening hour as well.
A guy just needed some time alone, you know? And young healthy guys needed some time alone a couple times a day. Minimum!
It worked okay, but there were definitely times when a guy kind of craved a room of his own.
So when they found the bunker, it was... bliss. Sheer bliss. Yeah, the layers of warding were nice. Yeah, the library was pretty damn cool. The kitchen was good. The old cars were nice. But best of all was the privacy. They each had their own bedroom!
Privacy! Hour after hour after hour of it, uninterrupted!
Without any discussion about it, Dean and Sam both quietly selected bedrooms that were just far enough apart that soft sounds (like, oh, the occasional moan or grunt or something) wouldn't be heard. Dean (and Sam, no doubt) was highly practiced at the Completely Silent Orgasm, of course, as was anybody who'd grown up in shared housing, but it was really nice to not have to really stress about the occasional soft gasp right at the end. That heartstopping moment, right as the orgasm really crested... and right when the first spurts were coming out... it was damn hard to keep quiet then.
At last... some privacy for one's gasps and grunts. In a room of one's own.
There hadn't been any internet in the bunker at first, so internet porn wasn't an option right away. Instead Dean spent the entire first week in the bunker just holed up in his room almost full time, working his way repeatedly through his stack of girlie mags.
Later that week Sam had called Dean into the back of the library, laughing. Sam pointed to the back of a dusty filing cabinet. Dean peered over a rack of dusty old files to see a stack of vintage Playboys and Penthouses wedged in the back of the Men of Letters files. Dean let out a guffaw.
"Guess even Men of Letters had needs," Sam said. "And check out how tame it all looks now!" He picked the top magazine up and riffled it, and it fell open instantly to the centerfold. "Almost as if somebody's had this open there before..." said Sam, unfolding an old-style pinup of a smiling naked girl straddling a motorcycle. "It's so totally old school. Looks almost innocent compared to what we've got available online now."
"Yeah, practically tame," said Dean, taking the magazine and flipping through a few more pages. "Oh," he said, for the next few pictures were of the girl sprawled suggestively across the hoods of a couple of classic old cars. No Impala, but ... Hm.
"Can't believe they got off on these," said Sam.
"Yup." said Dean. "So..... uh... maybe I'll just take them for research, you know?"
Sam snorted. "Not so fast. I get half."
Turned out those quaint old-fashioned girlie mags had a certain charm.
A week or two later, Sam managed to rig up a high speed wi-fi connection (the 50's bunker wiring hadn't been exactly internet-ready, but Sam somehow got a cable guy to hook in cable to the top of the building, and Sam took it from there.) The second Sam got the wifi router running, Sam and Dean both disappeared into their respective rooms for nearly another solid week.
Yup, thought Dean several times that week; the really great thing about the bunker was the privacy.
One night not long after, Dean announced to Sam that he was "going to bed early" because he "felt sleepy."
It was Dean's usual excuse. Sam just snorted and said, "Right, Dean. Just don't you dare let me hear anything." Dean knew he wasn't fooling Sam — and Sam never fooled him, either — but a guy had to keep up appearances, you know?
Dean strolled off to his room with the last of a bottle of scotch tucked under his arm. Once in the room he locked the door — god, a bedroom door that actually locked! Then he kicked off his shoes, shucked his pants and underwear off so that he was down to just his t-shirt, and settled down on his bed.
He took a minute to get organized: a few Kleenexes and a little towel on his right; bottle of lube within arm's reach; pillows stacked just right; skin mags on one side; laptop up on another pillow on his left side so he could see it easily; earbuds ready; everything in a nice position, so he could easily replay a video with his left hand. Cause, you know, his right hand would be busy. Dean had always been of the opinion that it was worth the little bit of extra effort to get everything comfortably arranged at the beginning. So that you could really concentrate, right?
Let's see now, thought Dean, what'll it be tonight? Classic skin mags, modern skin mags, or laptop? He took a swig of the scotch, set his glass down on the side table by his gun, and decided to start out online. He got the earbuds in and started flicking through one of his favorite sites, typing in some random keywords and trying to ignore the awful music the website was playing. Almost immediately one of the Kleenexes drifted over onto the keyboard and made him do a typo - "massive tits" became "massise tits," which the website autocorrected to "masseuse tits," which turned out to be really not a bad phrase at all to search on. Next thing Dean knew, he was on a blundering tour through a few bizarre massage-related fetishes he'd never even thought of before. ("Pencils? ... really?" Dean muttered at one point. "That just doesn't look comfortable." And later: "Oh, wow, I did not need to know you could get a turtle in there.") And eventually he found a couple new vids that really were pretty damn hot.
Dean liked to think of his sexual tastes as being the ideal balance of kink and classic. But when you got right down to it (thought Dean) he really just had good ol' redblooded-American-male tastes. Straight-guy tastes, really. Just a hot girl with nice tits would do it, really. Like, here - here was a good video - a hot masseuse girl with nice tits. Yeah, that's all it took. A hot girl with nice tits, sucking off some guy's cock. That was nice. (Dean started palming his own cock, squeezing it gently, occasionally reaching further down to roll his balls gently back and forth in his hand. His cock was rising slowly to half-mast, getting heavier.) A hot girl with nice tits... sucking off a nice cock. Yeah. Yeah.
This video had no cheesy background music, but just natural sounds: gasps and groans and slurping noises. All the soft, wet, delicious noises of a great blow job. Dean noticed that the cock in the video, the cock the girl was blowing, seemed to belong to some dude who was tied to the massage table. After a while the video zoomed out so you could see the whole situation, the guy looking kinda... well, kinda helpless really, in sort of a hot way though; sort of squirming, his chest heaving with gasps now and then. (Dean's cock was getting pretty hard now, and Dean started doing long strokes.) Then there were a few closeups of the cock; the masseuse girl had taken her mouth off it, and was just teasing the cock with the tip of her tongue now, flicking it. Flick. Flick. Flick. The guy's cock twitched each time that tongue came flicking forward. And, oh hey, an even closer view of the cock, super close up; Dean could see pre-cum starting to dribble out.... and...
.... and somehow Dean found himself watching a solid six minutes of that closeup on that cock, watching that cock in the video just getting thicker and longer, watching it seeping more and more pre-cum.
(Dean occasionally did find himself looking at cocks in porn videos; it was just natural curiosity, right? Just natural curiosity. It was just sorta interesting, now and then, to check out another guy's junk... to see what other guys looked like when they came...to see how much come came out... what kind of sounds they made... Of course, it was all just for comparison purposes, really. Just natural curiosity.)
The video cut back to the overall view and the guy was really squirming now. The girl kept alternating tactics: swallowing the cock down; wrapping one or both hands around it; flicking him ruthlessly with her tongue. And yeah, she was a hot girl with nice tits, and that was nice, but Dean just couldn't help also noticing the dude, how turned on that dude was, how the dude was writhing around, straining at the ties that were holding him to the table, starting to twist his hips from side to side, starting to let out tiny little groans. Then there was one more closeup of the cock. The dude seemed to actually be arching up off the table now. The girl's tongue came out for one more flick, the cock seemed to swell more ...
And... whoa, the guy was coming! Dean watched, rapt, fascinated, his eyes glued to the screen. He watched the spurts of come shooting out, watching the guy's cock twitching hard with each spurt, listened to the guy's choked gasps.
Just natural curiosity.
Dean lubed his hand up a little more, wrapped his hand tightly around his cock and sped up a little. God, the wonderful wet, slick feeling of a well-lubed hand. Damn, Dean was getting close... he just needed... just the right scene... but the video had ended....
Then Dean found himself clicking the video back to just before the guy came, and accidentally watched the guy writhing around again. He accidentally watched the cock spurting again. Accidentally listened to the guy's moans again, tugging on his own cock the whole time. Stroking the whole shaft with his lube-slicked hand, long strokes along the whole length; caressing the head; running his thumb over the slit... feeling that coil of heat start to flare at the base of his spine. Getting close now, starting to really feel it heat up, feeling the wave build; and —
Damn! The video had ended again.
Dean clicked back again, really intending to watch the girl's tits now, but he accidentally ended up watching the dude's cock yet again, and watching the dude build up toward orgasm again. The guy in the video let out those little choked groans again, and Dean's cock gave a sympathetic twitch and a big drop of pre-cum swelled out of the slit at the tip. Dean couldn't help letting out a soft groan too, "mMMmmm..." It just felt so damn good.
He sped up his hand and... ahhh, the guy on the screen was coming, those big spurts just flying right out of that cock, those huge spurts, jesus; Dean's cock gave a huge twitch and another drop of pre-cum welled out, oh god, so close now, Dean's hand sped up more, short sharp strokes now, just below the head; the video ended again and he clicked it back; the guy in the video was spurting again and Dean couldn't help grunting softly, "Nnnhh!", so damn close! — and a rough gravely voice from just a few feet away said:
"Are you going to ejaculate soon?"
Castiel was standing right next to the bed.
Dean practically jumped a foot off the bed as he tried to do three things all in a millisecond: cover himself up, slam the laptop closed and grab his gun from the side table. A split second later he realized he didn't actually need the gun, but he sure as hell needed to cover up because goddam sneaky Castiel, apparently the most perverted angel in the garrison, had somehow materialized in the room without Dean noticing, and Cas had been standing all of THREE GODDAM FEET AWAY, right at the edge of the bed. Cas had been on Dean's right side, the side away from the laptop; Dean hadn't seen him; and Cas had apparently been watching everything.
"WHAT. THE. FUCK!" Dean spat out, just barely managing to keep his voice low enough to not alert Sam, while also yanking the bedspread over himself, and scrambling wildly across the bed away from Cas, the earbuds falling out of his ears. The laptop and half of the pillows fell to the floor, and then Dean fell right off the bed himself.
"Well, are you?" said Cas, while Dean flailed around on the floor, tangled in the bedspread. Cas added, "I've been waiting but it seems to be taking some time. Does it normally take this long?"
Dean managed to lurch to his feet, clutching the bedspread around him, gasping with shock and feeling so fucking scorched with humiliation that he about wanted to grab the gun after all just to shoot himself.
Cas was just standing there on the opposite side of the bed as cool as a cucumber, goddam trenchcoat and blue tie and the whole ensemble, looking completely unfazed. He didn't even seem to notice there was anything particularly wrong. He said calmly, "I'm sorry if I startled you. It seemed you might be getting close to ejaculation, so I thought I would ask. Just to see how much longer it might take."
Dean finally had the bedspread wrapped fully around his waist. The adrenaline was still surging through him, his heart hammering, and his goddam idiot cock didn't seem to know whether that meant to get harder or get softer. So it was at a weird in-between half-mast now and Dean was having to fucking try and hide his hard-on. Which was pretty damn pointless given that Cas had just been watching Dean jerking off and... holy shit, how much had he seen? Dean mentally rewound the last fifteen minutes, desperate, frantically trying to convince himself that this wasn't as disastrous at it seemed... maybe Cas had just showed up a few seconds before he'd spoken? But he'd said that terrifying phrase about "I've been waiting but it seems to be taking some time..."
Hold on a sec...
...holy shit... the fucking Kleenex ... THE KLEENEX!
The Kleenex drifting onto the keyboard! FUCK! That had been the wind from Cas arriving! That was at the beginning! That was before Dean had even found the video!
Cas must have seen absolutely everything and... yeah, this was pretty damn disastrous. This was supernova-scale disastrous.
After a few wordless gasps, Dean burst out with, "God fucking DAMMIT, Cas, what the fuck is wrong with you? You've been standing there watching?" He was still desperately trying to keep his voice low enough so that Sam wouldn't hear. "Haven't you ever heard of friggin' PRIVACY? I thought I explained this to you ages ago!"
"Explained what?" said Cas, frowning.
Dean hissed, as loud as he dared, "Not to FRIGGIN' INTERRUPT ME WHEN I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING!" He waved a hand at the bed and added, incoherently, "When I'm in the m-middle ... of... when I'm ... when I'm... doing... when... I told you YEARS ago, Cas! And I told you to always say something when you show up! What the HELL?! I mean, what the friggin' hell, Cas?!"
"Oh," said Cas, nodding. "I see. Well, first, I did say hello but you didn't hear me. I think those little devices in your ears may have been playing music, perhaps? And, also, what you told me before, when we first met years ago, was not to come into the motel bathrooms. Your exact words, as I recall, were 'Do not frigging come into the frigging bathroom without a frigging express invitation, you frigging pervert.' You didn't mention it was specifically related to masturbation. I didn't realize at the time that you might have been masturbating." Cas paused, glancing at the bed in thought, and added, "I think I understand now. Should I infer then that you were accustomed, back then, to masturbating in motel bathrooms, but that now you masturbate in this room? The bunker offers more possible locations, I suppose?"
Dean gaped at him. A few moments ticked by; Cas was just staring right at him, without even the slightest hint of embarrassment, apparently just awaiting an answer.
Dean finally said, "We are not having this conversation. I refuse to believe that we are having this conversation." He tried to wrap the bedspread around himself in a more clothes-like way, sort of like a toga. Except it turned out his damn cock was for some reason still at half-mast and he became nervously aware that it was still going to make too much of a bulge. So he gave up on the toga idea and had to sort of bunch the bedspread up right in front of him. "I don't friggin' believe this is even happening," he muttered to himself.
Cas sighed, and said, spreading his hands as if he were a bit baffled, "Dean. I see I've upset you. Forgive me for not having an intuitive understanding of this, but, you seem to forget sometimes, I'm truly not human. And I truly don't understand what it is you're upset about."
Just then Dean heard a tinny little grunting noise and Cas looked down at Dean's feet. Dean glanced down in horror at the laptop. On the plus side, it seemed to be undamaged; on the minus side, it was somehow playing that fucking video all over again and that damn dude was about to come again.
Dean slammed the laptop shut with his foot, and closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
After a moment Dean opened his eyes. He said slowly, through gritted teeth, "Don't... EVER... do that again."
Cas frowned. "You'll need to be a little more specific," he said. "Are you talking about this room in particular, or the bunker in general, or, specifically masturbation no matter what room you may do it in, or —"
Dean put a hand up and said "STOP." Cas stopped, frowning again.
"Just don't... interrupt me," Dean said, struggling to even say the words, "if I'm... if I'm... just please don't interrupt me... if ... I'm... "
"Masturbating?"
"Y-yes," Dean choked out.
"All right," Cas said, nodding. "I won't interrupt you when you're masturbating. You can continue. I won't interrupt."
Cas gestured to the bed.
"What?" said Dean.
"Continue," said Cas. "I won't interrupt."
"Continue?"
"Continue masturbating," said Cas. Dean blinked at him. Cas gave him a slightly exasperated look and said, "Isn't that what you meant? You had not yet achieved orgasm, correct? I gather that means you wish to continue, without me interrupting, until you have an orgasm. Right? So, continue."
Cas gestured to the bed again.
Dean was speechless for a moment.
Dean finally managed to say, "With you here?"
"I don't mind," said Cas. "I can wait. I just wanted to tell you about a possible case, but it can wait a few more minutes." He looked at Dean inquiringly. "Do you have an estimate of how many more minutes it will take?"
There was a long pause.
Dean finally said, "Cas, you know what, it's going to take a very long time now. You better just leave."
Cas nodded. "All right. I'll return in an hour, how about that?"
"Sure, that sounds good. And Cas?"
"Yes?"
"If you ever mention this to anybody, especially Sam, EVER, I will fucking kill you," said Dean. "And don't you ever just fucking watch me like that. Don't just watch me, EVER again. Got it?"
Cas frowned. "No need to be rude, Dean. I merely wanted to alert you to a case. I'll be back in an hour." And with a faint flutter of wings, he was gone.
A Kleenex drifted across the bed.
Dean spent the next ten minutes sitting with his head in his hands, and the half hour after that getting drunk.
A/N - Think this is the last time Dean'll get "interrupted"?
Nah, me neither.
edit: so, some people have missed that there are more chapters. There's a bunch more! Just click "Next." :)
edit2: I am waaaaay behind on replying to comments. But I promise you, I absolutely read every single one (usually the second it arrives) and your comments absolutely make my day. So please leave a comment if you have a moment! I really appreciate it!