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After the Show

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“Meet me at the hotel?” The words rolled off Cas Novak’s tongue the exact way you’d think after saying them a thousand times. It was just what you said after finding your date after a concert. And by the end of a tour, the question was more like a chore; enthusiastic hands and mouths more of a distraction from the fast-approaching plane ride home than a needed fuck.


Eyes twinkling, the man who caught his attention at the club smiled under a face splattered with freckles. “Actually,” he jetted, “I was thinking we could wander around for awhile.”


Cas was taught early on to be wary of anything out of his bodyguard’s sight shy of a hotel room. This guy could be trying to lure him to his death, or hold him for ransom. Still, for some odd reason, Cas was inclined to trust him.


I’ll be late , he texted the rest of his bandmates, and nodded to the man beside him. “What’s your name?”


“Dean,” the reply came as they hopped off their barstools.


“Well Dean,” Cas repeated his name so he’d remember. “What did you have in mind?”


Dean shrugged coyly. “There’s a putt putt place nearby that’s open late.”

“You want to play mini golf?” Cas asked with a light scoff.


Dean wasn’t bothered by his dismissal. He knew rockstars like Cas weren’t accustomed to being used for anything beyond bragging rights. “That or arcade. I love a good skee ball.”


Cas smirked, a nostalgic twinkle reaching his eyes. “I loved the arcade as a kid.”


Dean linked arms with him. “And we have a winner,” he said, leading Cas out of the club and across the street. At first, Cas was nervous he would be recognized, but most of the people there were too young to know who he was, and the rest were so deeply engrossed in earning tickets they hardly noticed the noses on their faces.


Dean had seen Cas light up while singing powerful songs, but nothing like this. He came alive in that arcade. More than once, he noticed Dean’s eyes on him and looked down bashfully, but the embarrassment was always short-lived. After Dean failed miserably at skee ball, Cas came up right behind him and nailed at least fifty on each throw.


When Dean glanced over at him in wide-eyed wonder, Cas laughed and muttered, “I’ve picked up quite a few odd skills while on the road.”


“Oh yeah? What else can you do?” Dean asked as they made their way to the spinning lights game.


Cas paused a beat to wait for the question to turn sexual, but it never did. When was the last time he and a groupie went this long without trying to get into each other’s pants?


“I’ve taken some pictures,” he offered casually. “Mostly while the bus is moving, so they’re not very good.”


Dean gestured at the phone in Cas’ front jean pocket. “Let’s see,” he suggested.


Not very good, his ass. Cas had pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge, the Statue of Liberty, and various canyons and mountains, all gorgeously centered and some edited to black and white to add contrast. As Cas swiped through his camera roll, Dean took in the artistry of it all, each photograph more vibrant and meaningful than the last.


“Damn,” he breathed when Cas locked his phone and put it away. “I thought you said the bus was moving. Those looked like you stood out there for hours trying to get the right exposure!”


It was Cas’ turn to shrug modestly. “What about you?” he found himself asking, not quite knowing why. Was he wanting the attention off of himself, or was he genuinely interested in this person he’d probably never see again?


Dean slammed the button, landing the flashing light two bulbs away from the center and earning him a few tickets. “I built a prototype cash register that accepts and dispenses cash for the user in less time than it takes to manually count back change.”


“That’s… very specific,” said Cas, a little taken aback that he was in the presence of an inventor.


“I also handmade a device that can measure electromagnetic frequencies,” he added.


Cas didn’t know the first thing about electric magnascopic whatchamacallits, but it sounded very complicated and impressive. If there was one thing he enjoyed more than being fucked, it was being mind-fucked, and this man was making him half hard by all the smarts that were between his ears.


Dean wasn’t going to bring up the fact that he also knew how to piece together firearms completely from scratch, because well, that tended to freak people out. Especially, he imagined, someone who technically wasn’t supposed to go anywhere without a bodyguard. After all, it wasn’t like he was going to see this guy again, so he wanted to part ways with the best memories possible.


After a few more games, Cas and Dean decided on putt putt after all, which Dean won by a landslide. Cas poked his ass with the putter and demanded a rematch, but the park was closed by the time they reached hole 18. The two decided to hit up the taco truck by an abandoned strip club in the shady part of town, and two Uber rides later, they were full of tacos de lengua and standing outside a bar laughing at their driver’s taste in music.


“It wasn’t even good techno,” Dean derided, tears streaming down his face from doubling over so hard. “Oh god, I need to stop laughing or I’m gonna puke.”


“Well, throw up in the bushes, these jeans are very expensive,” Cas teased.


“Say uh,” Dean changed the subject, standing upright. “When do you have to be back? Like, before your watch dogs start noticing you’re gone?”


“Gabe, Meg, and Fergus are covering for me. I sent them a text before we left. I’ve probably got until morning until they start asking questions.”


For the first time all night, Dean checked his phone. It was almost three in the morning. His eyes started to itch with the sudden knowledge of how long he had been awake. Then he realized Cas was probably tired, too. He was the one who just killed it on stage, after all.


“You wanna head back?” Dean asked.


Cas grew suddenly sad. “Why? Do you?”


“No, just thought you might be, I dunno, sick of me or fucking exhausted.”


He exhaled sharply through his nose, brows furrowed. “Why the hell would I be sick of you? I haven’t had this much fun since my first tour.”


Sizing up the bar, Dean cocked his head and sighed with relief. “I’m enjoying this, too. Let’s have some drinks.”


Cas’ spirits lifted once again. After making it for last call, they talked until the barkeeper kicked everyone out. As everyone else filed away into their cars, they wandered down the streets until they reached the hotel. It was the darkest part of the night, mere moments before the sun begins to break across the horizon. They stayed on the front step and talked for a bit about nothing and everything. The candidness was invigorating to Cas, and Dean enjoyed being able to blabber to a stranger. There was something cleansing about it.


“Almost morning,” Dean pointed out. “Guess we better get you inside. Anything else you wanna do?”


Dean’s taste for a good time had swept Cas off his feet, the intellectual stimulation and frequent change of scenery adding to his arousal. By now, Cas was singularly focused: Get this man naked as soon as possible. This wasn’t a chore. This was the perfect ending to the perfect night.


And that’s how they ended up freshly showered, towels tossed onto the floor, bodies rocking together as Cas pounded Dean into the mattress. Cas wouldn’t soon forget Dean’s name, since he was uttering it every few seconds while filling his hole over and over with his cock. Beneath him lay Dean, groaning every time Cas brushed against his prostate, cock dripping eagerly onto his stomach.


Cas didn’t want to think about how he would have to leave this stunning creature behind. He didn’t want to think about returning home to a recording studio and a town that would never quite take him seriously. He didn’t even know the next time Hell and Halos would be here, so he pushed it all into the back of his mind and instead, he thought about how amazing Dean felt under him. He thought about how wonderfully Dean had treated him, how more human he felt that night than he had with anyone else.


Stroking Dean’s cock in his hands, Cas thrusted one last time before spilling into the condom, regretting not being able to fill Dean’s hole with his seed -- to claim him, to truly have him, to leave him with something of his. After a few long pumps, Dean came into Cas’ fists with a shout. Cas laid his head on Dean’s chest before pulling out, which was entirely too intimate to do with a one nighter, but at this point, he was past saving.


After cleaning up, Cas noted the time and glanced at his phone to see the expected text from his bodyguard. Dean was putting his underwear back on while still on his back, and he got an idea.


“How about a picture?” Cas suggested, opening up his camera. Usually it was the other way around. His fans would always ask, like some sort of fuck trophy to show their friends. Dean hadn’t brought it up, and somehow, he knew he wasn’t going to, because that’s not the kind of person Dean was.


“Yeah,” Dean agreed, and Cas fell backwards onto the mattress beside him and held the phone at arms’ length. Their expressions were a combination of sleepy, sated, content, and exhilarated. Dean smiled at the picture and sat up with a messy head of hair and clothes still scattered across the floor.


“I’ll send it to you,” Cas offered. It was dangerous. He shouldn’t be giving a fan his number. Dean could pass that on to anybody. He could track him. Or he could charge people for his number and have a thousand people text him before having to switch phones. But Dean wasn’t going to. Cas just knew it.


Dean smiled, the gravity of Cas’ trust settling on him. “I’d like that,” he accepted.


Cas Novak thought about the man named Dean the entire flight home. He thought about him while recording a sad song about leaving someone you love. He even thought about him while bedding someone else.


Although it seemed romantic to be ruined for all others, Cas knew he had to take it for what it was. Dean didn’t just arouse his body, he aroused his mind. He showed him how he deserved to be wooed. He cared about his hobbies and listened to him rant about the music manager. Dean taught Cas a bit of humanity. And he taught Cas that some people don’t come into your life to stay forever, but the things they taught you can.


Title from lyrics in Hot Blooded by Foreigner - listen here!