“Cassie, baby, could you maybe try glaring just, like, an insy binsy bit less?” cajoled Gabe, calling from his directors chair.
Shaking his head, Dean looked up from where he knelt on hands and knees, naked, doggy style, on the floor. Three techs surrounded him, using a light meter and adjusting camera and umbrella things they used to soften the glow. “Cas, you watch other people fuck me all the time, this ain’t different.”
A make up person nudged Cas to the left and daubed oil on his chest. “It’s different,” he muttered. Dean quirked a skeptical eyebrow at him. Cas didn’t want to explain. He knew he was being ridiculous. He’d signed off on the script, for fucks sake. But now that it was actually time to film…he was going to have to stand there, dick in Dean’s mouth, and watch a parade of other guys fuck Dean’s sweet, tight ass.
Dean was wrong. Cas very deliberately did not watch his husband get fucked by other men. He knew it happened - accepted it happened - heck, they’d met on camera, if they weren’t both pros they’d never have fallen in love - but watching Dean got slack with bliss from other men? Drove Cas fricken nuts.
“Come on, we can’t film with you lookin’ like sour grapes,” said Gabe. Scowling, Cas forced a smile on to his face on rigid muscle at a time. “…it’ll have to do. The camera will mostly be on Dick Westchester anyway. We set on lighting?” Anna, the head tech, shot him a thumbs up. “Awesome sauce. Bring on the dicks!”
The scenario was a simple one, with no plot to speak of. The scene opened on Dean prepped and ready to go; the first person fucking him - a woman in a strap on - came on screen, said a few lines, then sank into his body. Dean groaned, and while his mouth was open wide, Cas took his place, shoving his large cock down Dean’s throat until he choked - an affectation for the camera, Dean could deep throat and was fine. His mouth felt good, but every glimpse Cas got of the woman fucking Dean left him seething, left him desperate to fuck Dean’s face possessively. That wasn’t the script, though, so Cas behaved, thrust lightly, kept a hand on Dean’s scalp, put on a show.
The woman finished, strap on harness rubbing her clit with every thrust until she came with a moan. A man took her place in moments, thrusting enthusiastically. Dean sweat and swallowed moans and rocked against the man behind him, partly for the cameras, partly cause, as Cas knew well, Dean loved being used. Dean’s dick hung heavy and leaking between his legs. Three cameras circled them, taking angled shots, doing close ups, and booms hovered over their heads to catch every whimper. The reminders this was a film helped eased Cas. As long as he focused on Dean, he could play along.
Three men arrived simultaneously, taking turns, culminating in a DP bit that left Dean mewling and desperate, rocking against nothing when they finished. Come streaked Dean’s back, dribbled on the floor. Cas could only imagine what a mess his ass was - though if he watched the movie after he’d get to see, for Ash lingered there lovingly, filming the creampie. More men and women came, in every sense of the word, leaving Dean a filthy, gorgeous, flushed wreck, leaving Cas a jealous, possessive wreck. Seriously, what had Cas done to piss Gabe off so badly that script called for Cas to just stand there gagging Dean on his dick?
No. For all that Cas simmered with anger and lust, he knew that wasn’t why he’d been put as a permanent half of the spitroast. This was a really damn hard scene for Dean and Cas’ presence strengthened him, steadied him, heartened him as he was fucked through coming untouched by a dude with an enormous cock, fucked to a second orgasm by a woman who got her whole fist in him. Dean trembled, eyes open for the camera but utterly abstracted and sightless, hands locked in a death grip around Cas’ ankles, and Cas stood there, rocking against his face and ruining his hair and wishing he could murmur encouragement.
The culmination was four men and a woman alternating pairs as they took a limp-dicked Dean over and over with dicks and hands and toys. Dean wept from over stimulation - one of the cameras did nothing but film his expressions - and Cas tried to focus on his role. He had to come, though it was difficult, concern for Dean superseding his earlier jealousy. Still, if Cas didn’t fulfill his part the whole scene would get messed up, so he did as he had to, thrusting into Dean’s mouth, jaw long gone limp. It was mechanical - work - until Dean looked at him through tear-dewed eyelashes and seemed to see him. Pleasure surged through Cas and he growled deep and guttural. Dean was his and hell if his facefucking wouldn’t make that clear to every son of a bitch who watched the film.
The last man finished coming in Dean’s ass with a groan; Dean collapsed, legs spread wide, as a camera zoomed and Cas got his first glimpse of Dean’s stretched, reddened hole, his crack coated in come, white leaking out of him. The movement pulled Cas from Dean’s mouth, showed his dick dripping with saliva to the audience. Chest heaving, limbs limp, Dean brought his gaze into liquid focus on Cas and mouthed, unmistakably, his name.
All Cas wanted to do was climb between Dean’s legs and fuck the memory of those other people out of him, use their come as lube til ge replaced it with his own.
He wrapped a hand around his dick, imagining how perfect Dean’s ass would feel, imagining the sweet promises and endearments Dean would whisper in his ear, imagining Dean coming whimpering against him, and came in three strokes flat, streaking copious white onto Dean’s face, in his open mouth, over his sweaty forehead, tangling in his eyelashes.
Dean collapsed against the bed, spent and used up, semi-consciously licking come from his lips and smiling in bemused, blissed-out euphoria.
The cameras caught every second of it.