Living in Minneapolis, Castiel Novak had always spent time holed up under the bridges waiting for trains to come by and lull him to sleep when he was between places to stay. On this day, he was waiting for one to take him out of town. The last place he’d been squatting had nosy neighbors who were more than happy to call the police and get one more “punk kid” off the street.
The wind blew his dark hair away from his face and ran a chill over his spine. He’d managed to grab most of everything of any importance - except his coat. It wasn’t that cold though, he could handle it. That’s what he told himself anyway. He’d been living on his own for several years now but now that he’d lost his job from showing up baked….again, he needed a new venue. Somewhere he could start fresh. The weed wasn’t a necessity, it was something he did when he was bored and he’d been really bored for the last couple years.
A freight train slowly made its way down the track toward him. It looked slow enough that he could jump onboard if one of the freight cars was open. His tanned fingers curled around the strap of his bag as he steadied himself at the edge of the ledge he’d been sitting on for what felt like an age. As soon as he saw the gaping side of the freight car he jumped down and began trotting beside the track. Heart pumping with adrenaline, he grabbed at the handle and swung himself inside.
The inside of the car was dark and dirty. There were a couple of crates left but nothing edible. A worn thin, discarded blanket lay on the opposite end of the car. He was only mildly skeeved out but after checking it carefully and giving it a sniff, he wrapped it around his frozen limbs and curled up into the corner. Rolling up his bag to cushion his head, he was out cold within minutes thanks to the rhythm of the wheels on the track.
“Dammit Cade, you might as well be serving piss. What the fuck is this??” Dean Winchester raged around the bar he managed waving at the latest useless bartender he’d hired. He sure was pretty but he couldn’t make a drink to save his life. “Just get out. I’ll have Jo man the bar until I can find a replacement.” When the bartender failed to move, Dean lobbed the drink at his head, missing only by a scant inch as the glass crashed to the floor behind the bar. “I SAID, GO!”
The bartender ran as Dean slid onto a rickety wooden stool. Burying his freckled face in his hands he slid his fingers through his golden brown hair in frustration. A new bartender every week was a problem. At this point there wasn’t going to be any potential bartenders left in town.
“Seriously Dean, do you have to run off every bartender you hire? Maybe you’re the problem.” Jo’s smile did nothing for his mood. He’d been just about to finish with a new client when the guy dropped his safe word and left Dean smurfin’ it. The asshole had deep throating on his list of green lighted activities but apparently Dean was too much for him.
“I need a drink Jo, whiskey neat, just send it down to the Dungeon, ok? I don’t need all that sass, that’s what Ketch is for.” Jo smirked at his exasperation as he headed for the door to the basement. It was unmarked so as not to draw unnecessary attention but there was a whole other world down there. She tried to stay away when possible, it just wasn’t her scene, so she yelled into the back to have one of the kitchen guys take it down before attempting to sweep up the glass. The door creaked back open just a few inches, and a much calmer voice slid into her ear.
“Sorry about the mess, Jo.” An apologetic smile spread across his face, he knew what he was doing.
“Yeah, yeah. Go use that smooth talk on a ‘John’” She cut a sharp side eye at him but couldn’t resist him and he knew it. When the door shut, she poured herself a strong shot of her own whiskey. Dean Winchester was a path she wouldn’t walk again.
Cas gripped the handle of the freight car waiting for his moment to jump off. He had no idea where he was but he knew he’d passed a sign a while back that claimed he’d entered Indiana. The corn fields seemed to confirm it but he was just stereotyping and he hated stereotypes. When the train finally slowed enough that it was safe, he grabbed his bag and sat on the edge of the opening waiting for a good spot to land. The legs of his black denim overalls were dusty and covered in straw and dirt but he figured he could just brush that off and be passable to walk into town. He needed to find a place to hang out until he could find some work.
Finally a smooth patch of dry grass spread out from the track rolling by below his feet. He planted his palm and launched himself out of the side of the car and somehow managed to land upright. He hadn’t done that successfully in a while and couldn’t help a mental pat on the back. He mussed his hair as he walked and ran his tongue over his teeth. He needed a bathroom and somewhere to freshen up. Maybe something to eat… but where?
After walking about a mile in the heat, he noticed a bar at the end of a quiet street. It was the middle of the afternoon judging by the placement of the sun but there were a few cars. He decided it was worth a shot and began working up a story in his head. Just moved to town, looking for a job and a place to stay. Parents threw him out so no previous landlord and no questions. By the time he’d figured everything out, he was pulling open the heavy wooden door of Winchesters Bar. It was dark but cool and smelled of old oak and hops. The cherry high gloss bar seemed too rich to be in a place this seedy but he soaked in the chill in the air and slid onto a stool while a smiling blonde made her way over to take his order.
“Hey there. The name’s Jo, what can I get you?” Jo was friendly but her sweet smile didn’t quite meet her eyes and there was a tired air about her. Cas’ stomach growled reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since the previous afternoon but he stuffed down the discomfort for the time being.
“I just need a glass of water for now.” The second the words crossed his lips, Jo’s eyebrow lifted in silent question. She was definitely suspicious and he’d been here only a couple minutes.
Filling a glass with ice, her long fingers deftly handled the glassware before sliding the best looking glass of water Cas had ever seen down the bar to him, closely followed by a bowl of peanuts that clinked against the side of his glass. He lifted an eye to her and she winked back before disappearing into the kitchen. Before she returned he had the glass empty including the ice and had eaten all but a couple peanuts out of the bowl. She was just about to say something about a menu when Dean emerged from the basement.
Cas stared slack jawed at the man across the bar, his tattooed arms obscenely strained the sleeves of the black Dead Kennedys t-shirt he wore. It was worn in spots at the edges and stretched awkwardly in the neck like it’d been pulled on recently. His dark jeans clung to every imaginable curve of his body and only rose high enough to leave a little to the imagination. When he stretched across the bar Cas got a peak at the trail of soft hair that led south of the border.
Dean’s kohl smudged green eyes turned toward Castiel as Jo spoke in hushed tones at the other end of the bar. Cas hadn’t even seen her come back in. Dean’s gaze was like a tractor beam that he couldn’t escape and didn’t want to. His mouth felt like a dune in the Sahara when he tried to swallow as Dean made his way toward him, Cas was hanging on by a thread but the gruffness in his voice was the final blow.
“What’s your name? I need a bartender and you look...available.” Dean’s eyes roved over Cas’ body. He was covered almost completely in his dark overalls and sleeveless shirt. Mentally cursing himself for not changing into something...anything...else, he felt strangely exposed. Dean’s gaze was piercing and it was clear from the way he moved he was used to getting what he wanted. Cas’ dark hair hung over one blue eye, something that seemed to offend Dean who tucked it back behind an ear with an arrogant smile.
“It’s a shame to cover such gorgeous eyes, let’s tuck it behind your ear. I like it better that way.” There was something commanding in his tone but it was delivered in a way that made him want to obey... Cas could feel the need to please start to curl in his gut. There wasn’t much this man could tell him to do that he wouldn’t jump at the chance to do several times over. He nodded as Dean took in the rest of him.
“Good. Jo will teach you everything need to know over the next few days and then you’re on your own. Get yourself some dinner, and change. When you’re done, meet me in the office. There’s some...other things we need to review.” Dean motioned to Jo to grab a menu and gave her some quick instructions but Cas didn’t hear any of it. He was still reeling from the charge in the atmosphere between them. He watched Dean make his way to a small office on the other side of the bar. When he turned back to his drink Jo was standing before him a knowing look on her face.
Cas scrubbed at the back of his head and practically glowed with embarrassment but Jo took charge of the situation. “Look but don't touch. Dean is sexy as hell but there are things you don’t know. He’ll use you up and then toss you out and you’ll definitely be the worse for the wear. Just give yourself a nice top off every night and you’ll be fine.” She focused all her attention at the glass she was drying, unwilling to show Cas too much of the pain on her face.
“Now, go change. I’ve already ordered you a cheeseburger.” When he started to object she held up a tiny hand to silence him. “I know, I know, but it’s on the house and you look like you could use a meal. Bathrooms are around to the left.”
Dean locked the door to the office and leaned back in his chair, hand cupping the bulge behind his zipper. He still didn’t know what the guy’s name was but if he hadn’t had just a sliver of restraint left, he would have bent him over the bar. That dark hair and Jesus Christ those eyes were so blue and so very needy. He loved needy. There were things he could do with needy.
Popping the button on his jeans he let down the zipper and let his hand rub lazily over his bare cock. He didn’t have much use for underwear- hell, his pants were off half the time. This way he could just unzip, let the client have it, clean up and button up. Done. The problem is his schedule was light today and the one opportunity he’d had to get off had been screwed up. He pulled his cock out of his pants and stroked slowly. It felt good. Way too good. He’d have to rub one out if he was gonna be able to focus.
Pulling off his t-shirt he tossed it onto the desk and let the chair lull back, bracing his boot on the edge of the desk. as he worked his cock the way he liked it. A nice rhythmic stroke with the occasional soft tease over the tip with the pad of his thumb. The dark splatter of tattoo ink across his chest rippled as his muscles contracted and relaxed. He needed this badly, a string of uninteresting encounters had left him hungry. No matter how many subs he’d told to stroke him, not one of them got it right. A blow job was just easier...for him anyway...and even that had gotten fucked up.
Closing his eyes, he let his mind wrap around a vision of parched lips sucking bruises into the crook of his thigh while fingers topped with black nail polish wrapped around his cock, stroking perfectly. Obediently. Just the way he liked it. He didn’t even bother to muffle his grunts, the new guy would learn soon enough. When he finished he grabbed a baby wipe from his desk drawer and cleaned himself up before tucking his cock back away. At least now he’d have a cool head when what’s his name showed up.
He’d barely finished the thought before the door handle jiggled but didn’t turn. Dean stretched in his chair and unlocked the door to wide blue eyes. Standing, he pulled his shirt over his tattooed chest and held out his hand. “Dean Winchester. Now, I don’t think you actually told me your name. Have a seat and fill me in.”
Cas tried to keep his voice level but the smell of sex in the air along with Dean’s bare chest was intoxicating, a tiny squeak betrayed him. “Castiel…” He cleared his throat, “Novak, but you can call me Cas.” As soon as he’d said it he immediately averted his eyes and tucked his hair behind his ear. Dean’s eyes widened slightly. Natural submissive behavior. A new toy was just what he needed.
Cas settled into the chair just opposite him and waited as Dean shuffled some papers on his desk. Finding what he was looking for, Dean sat back in his chair and chewed his lip as he stalked Cas with his eyes like prey. Cas’ body was on full display in a black t-shirt and jeans that were practically painted on and a worn pair of Docs. It was more than acceptable. He looked good enough to eat as he sat with his legs spread wide. Taking up space to scare away the threat, or maybe because he was inviting it.
Dean eyed the nail polish. “Do you always paint your nails or is that special just for me?” The cocked eyebrow had all the hairs on Cas’ head raising and maybe something else.
“Keeps me from biting them, I’ve done it for years. Not that my parents understood it.” He shrugged as he spoke, working hard to seem like he didn’t care. That was his M.O., he didn’t care. No one could make him care.
“Well, parents don’t have to ‘get us’ at our age, Cas, do they? How old are you?” Dean’s eyes practically glowed, Cas couldn’t take his eyes off of them and wasn’t listening to a word coming out of his mouth. “Cas?” Dean leaned across the desk towards him as he spoke, his name sounding like warm silk in Dean’s mouth. “How old are you, Cas? The scruff on your face says you’re probably of age but I need to be sure before we have this conversation.”
Cas sat up a little straighter in an effort to get himself under control. “25. I don’t...I can’t prove that but that’s my story.” He cleared his throat again, nervously, and cursed himself for feeling so out of control.
Dean leaned back and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “That explains that body. You’re right in your prime, aren’t you…” Cas watched as Dean’s bottom lip pulled through his teeth, like it was happening in slow motion. Everything about this guy radiated sex. He felt like he’d stepped into some kind of hot as fuck Twilight Zone.
“So, Castiel Novak, here’s the thing. The bar - where you will be - is a fully functioning business of it’s own. It’s small but it makes money. The real money maker…” He paused mid sentence and slinked around the desk to sit on it’s edge right between Cas’ open knees. “is The Dungeon.”
Castiel shot Dean a look of confusion but the wheels were turning. He wasn’t oblivious to the seedier side of sex. “What’s The Dungeon?”
Dean crossed his arms and looked pleased. “It’s where all your dirtiest dreams come true.” He waited for what he’d said to register on Castiel’s face, and it did. Something between panic and desire flashed there for a moment. Satisfied with the reaction, Dean walked behind Cas’ chair and placed a strong grip on either shoulder. “Obviously it’s illegal but we make a lot of people very…. very happy. Everyone has fantasies Cas.” Leaning in close, Dean’s breath wafted across Cas cheek as he spoke, “I make them come true.”
Cas’ pounding heart was trying to leap from his chest as a single bead of sweat slid down his lower back. Dean’s body radiated heat. The kind of heat that you craved as soon as it was gone. He shook his head slightly to get his mind moving again. “...but you just want me to tend bar, right?”
A devilish smile spread across Dean’s face as he moved back to his chair.. “Of course, if you want to stay in the bar, you can stay in the bar. That’s what I’ll be paying you for.”
“Ok, fair enough. I’ll take the work” Cas sat a little straighter in his chair, trying to find some semblance of control. Being around this dude every day was going to be rough. He’d never been so glad for tight jeans.
“Perfect. Now, I’m guessing you need a place to stay, correct?” Dean plodded on as Castiel stared at him wondering how he’d picked up on so much so quickly. “There is a practically empty store room in the basement with a bed in it. It was a room that was in use but well...we outgrew it. It’s yours if you want it. Just know, the walls are thin and you will hear things. You may want to pick up some earplugs from the drug store so you can sleep. We have customers all hours of the day. Any questions?”
Cas tried to find words but could only manage a barely audible, “No sir.”
“Sir, huh? Interesting.” Dean stood and opened the door, gesturing for Cas to leave. “Find your way to the unmarked door next to the bar, that’ll take you downstairs. No peeking in any of the rooms, most are in use right now, but the last one on the left is yours. The door will be open.”
Cas nodded and made for the office door. Walking past Dean put all his senses on high alert. He smelled of musk and sex, his breath like cinnamon, and the heat coming off of him would burn your soul. It was heady.
“Oh and Cas…” Castiel ran a nervous hand through his hair as he turned back to look at him from the other side of the door jamb. Dean was leaning against it looking like a wet dream. “Welcome. Enjoy the ride.”