Deep bass music played from the open area on the ground floor. It was loud and penetrating and grated on Castiel’s nerves. He was seated on one of the crescent shaped sofas one floor above, close to the railing that ran along the balconies, allowing them to look down at the scene below.
It was in many ways your average club, with a big bar and an area with a small scene and a mechanical bull set to the side of a large dance floor, and tables pushed to the walls under the balconies such as the one Castiel was on. And, in a seemingly bizarre attempt to be both classy and disreputable, on the smaller upper floor there was another, more expensive, bar, and these sofas.
Not everyone was allowed up here, as if the introduction of a divide would provoke a feeling of superiority, but Castiel was hardly impressed with an establishment that let anyone in for money. It sullied the experience and he had long since tired of watching drunk people dance on tables and make out on the sofas. If he had wanted debauchery, he would have stayed down on the ground floor.
“Lighten up!” his cousin Gabriel grinned widely, pouring another round of tequila in a voluptuous lady’s belly button. She giggled, showing off crooked teeth. “It’s Friday!”
“Yes,” Castiel conceded easily because what was the point in arguing the obvious?
Castiel wasn’t averse to partying, wasn’t the least averse to picking up random men and women and bringing them home to his penthouse apartment and having his way with them. Castiel wasn’t a boring man, but he was also not feeling it tonight. They didn’t usually go to places like this. Sure, they frequented bars, and clubs, and what have you. But he supposed he was used to a certain standard.
That and his date had abandoned him and everyone else seemed loud and ugly and boring.
Castiel sighed and turned away from Gabriel and the crooked-toothed lady, only to look out over the plebs down below. Castiel, who had been born into a rich family and who had spent his whole life living up to his father’s expectations and done well for himself, somehow, irrationally, found himself more fascinated with ordinary people, rather than the dolled up impersonators the size of his wallet usually attracted.
“How cliché,” he muttered, eyes sweeping over the scene below. It looked loud and sweaty, just like up here. Maybe the grass wasn’t so much greener on the other side after all.
“What? Did you want a shot?”
Castiel turned back, only to see Gabriel with the tequila bottle in hand and the lady on the table looking at him with coveting eyes. He studied her for a moment, tried to imagine her squirming for him on his bed, but came up depressingly short.
“No, thank you,” he stood up and buttoned his suit jacket. “I’ve had enough for tonight.”
Gabriel shrugged and poured another round in the lady’s belly button. “Suit yourself.”
Castiel would, he always did. If anything, Castiel was known for being headstrong and going his own way, even when people laughed at him. Well, no one was laughing now, not when his net worth was a small fortune.
He walked away from the sofas and the group that had flocked to them when Gabriel had flaunted his platinum card, instead going to the bar and ordering himself some scotch, neat. It tasted appalling because God forbid an establishment such as this could have good scotch, though it of course was just as expensive as a good one. Castiel sipped it slowly and squinted angrily at the bartender until he slunk away to attend other patrons.
He brought it with him anyway, mainly because he was a waste-not kind of guy, and went to stand at the railing, looking down again. At least the people down below looked like they were having fun, in their exceedingly mundane activities. Most of them were dancing or drinking, which seemed on par for the club, and Castiel could see several cases where the dancing had developed to more intimate activities. He wondered absentmindedly if this was the kind of place where people fucked in the restrooms and hoped not, though Gabriel happily had divulged that there were condom machines in the men’s room.
A loud cheering drew his attention to the corner where the mechanical bull was. It hadn’t been operating when Castiel and Gabriel came in and he hadn’t noticed anyone using it since but now there was a group gathered around it and a scrawny kid was being flung hither and thither on the monstrous thing.
Castiel leaned his elbows on the railing and watched for a while.
The kid was soon cast off by the bull, to the group’s amusement, and a big digital clock announced 3.83 in big, bold numbers. From what Castiel could deduce on the kid’s annoyed reaction and the roars of the crowd, that was a bad time.
Castiel didn’t know a whole lot about mechanical bulls, or bull riding in general. Except that it was presumably hard to stay on and that it was a good thing to do it for as long as possible, though he supposed one didn’t have to be a genius to figure that out. He wondered idly if there was a price for the one who got the best time.
Sipping his watery scotch, he watched a woman take the kid’s place on the bull. She swung on with grace and managed to stay on a staggering 8.72 seconds, which Castiel thought was impressive. What was more impressive to him was the movements of her body as she rode the bull. Awfully familiar movements, those.
The din of the crowd and the bone-rattling bass music faded away as Castiel watched person after person ride the bull. It looked like they had fun and though he felt like an outsider looking in he greedily indulged himself in watching the growing group of people.
Most got times that ranged from five to ten seconds, though there was one girl who got on and promptly fell off within the first second. Castiel couldn’t help but grin about that, even though he was sure he would fare no better.
And then he took the stage.
Stole the show.
And then this absolutely gorgeous man jumped into the ring and easily swung himself up on the bull. Castiel couldn’t see a whole lot of details from this far, but what he could see definitely woke the beast in him.
The man was tall, broad-shouldered, legs deliciously bowed as if he was made to ride a bull or a horse. The man was a cowboy, and Castiel’s childhood fantasies of the cowboys in old western movies came flooding back.
The man gripped the handle on the bull with his left hand, muscles bulging enough for even Castiel to see. He pressed his heels against the sides of the bull, scooting forward in the saddle, and held up his right hand, arm in the shape of an L. He took a deep breath, sagged down in the saddle as he breathed out, and nodded to the person operating the bull for the group.
And rode for an astonishing 12.14 seconds.
His movements were completely fluid, he was one with the bull, there was no doubt about it and Castiel found himself completely entranced. He couldn’t honestly say that his jaw didn’t drop because he could focus on nothing but this Adonis of a man riding the shit out of that bull, his movements flawless.
Castiel wanted to be that bull. His whole body flushed hot, his dick taking an abnormal amount of interest in the whole thing, and his lizard brain demanding that he march down there and claim the man.
He rode the whole time with a cocky grin on his lips, eyes trained on the back of the bull’s head, and just as the clock signaled twelve seconds, the man changed his body position and tumbled gracefully off the bull in the next moment, seemingly by his own choice, rather than being flung off like all the others had been.
Castiel was on his way down the stairs before he had even made a conscious decision about it, his scotch abandoned precariously on the railing on the floor above.
He slowed his steps as he was closing in on the crowd around the mechanical bull, pacing himself as if approaching a business proposal. Hell, he didn’t even know if the man was interested in sleeping with men and Castiel recognized how it could be a sensitive topic, so he wanted to approach this in a suitable fashion. But on the other hand, he had never been this aroused from just watching someone before. He could only hope it wasn’t noticeable, on his face or otherwise.
The group of people had grown since Castiel first started watching them, and even though they all congratulated the man on his excellent time, it was clear that most of them were strangers. There was a small group that seemed to be the man’s friends, though, and Castiel came upon them just as the man was walking over, grinning widely.
How unfair, Castiel thought, that the man was so stunning and not his.
“That was great, Dean,” a young man with long, brown hair was saying just as Castiel walked up to them, clapping the man on his shoulder.
Dean. What an appropriate red-blooded American name. What a good cowboy name.
“Not my best,” the man—Dean—answered in a tone that suggested he was trying to be modest. “But definitely best so far tonight.”
So he was competitive, this Dean. Castiel liked that in a man. Liked it even more when competitive men bent over for him, not because they thought they had to but because they desperately wanted to. Oh, just the thought of having Dean turn into putty in Castiel’s hands made him hot all over again.
Also, competitiveness was one of the most easily manipulated personality traits, in Castiel’s experience.
“So good,” he said in a strong, dominant voice, “that you won’t be able to repeat it.”
Dean’s whole entourage turned to Castiel, collectively giving him a once over, and he straightened, not the least frightened. Just to be certain Dean would rise to the bait, Castiel lifted his chin high, looking down his nose at Dean and, as predicted, that made Dean’s hackles rise.
Dean had a very pleasant voice. A low, threatening baritone that made Castiel vibrate much more pleasantly than that godforsaken bass.
Castiel shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just saying, if you’re as good as you seem to think, you should be able to repeat your performance.”
Dean snorted, turning fully to Castiel, without a doubt the head of his group, shoulders squared and cocky grin back.
“Twelve seconds is nothing, man. That was just warm-up.”
By the look the young man with the long hair threw Dean, Castiel suspected that twelve seconds was actually a rather good time and one that might be hard for Dean to beat. And Castiel wanted Dean to win. Wanted him cocky and sure of himself as he submitted to Castiel’s touches.
“It was pure luck,” he challenged in a haughty tone, enjoying the twinkle in Dean’s eyes.
“And who are you to say that?” a big man behind Dean asked in a gruff voice. “Some kind of expert, are you?”
Castiel spared the man a glance. Scruffy, barrel-chested, nice face. Dean sure knew how to pick handsome friends, Castiel would give him that. But they all paled in the face of Dean’s appearance.
“Oh, I’m certain I would fall on my face if I ever tried,” Castiel answered in a calm voice, smiling to himself when him admitting that made the man’s face fall. Dean, however, looked at Castiel with sudden interest. “I was merely proposing a bet, since you impressed me and seem so sure of your own abilities,” he directed the last words to Dean, who drew himself up.
“Bull riding isn’t a joke.”
“So, you’re afraid?” Castiel enjoyed seeing Dean flounder. “Well maybe it’s for the best. You must be tired; I doubt you would even last five seconds now.”
“Five seconds?” Dean spluttered, some of his group laughing, though it was unsure whether they were amused by the situation or Dean’s suddenly squeaky voice. Dean walked into Castiel’s personal space and puffed out his chest. He smelled incredible. “I’ll last much more than that on any day.”
His low growl made Castiel’s whole body tingle. “Is that so?” he murmured, letting his eyes roam Dean’s face and body. Dean definitely noticed.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Dean grunted and Castiel’s eyes snapped up to Dean’s, captivated by their beauty for a moment.
“I would, actually,” he easily admitted, voice low and inviting. “I would like to know that very much.”
Time seemed to stall for a moment, each caught in the other’s gaze, and Castiel felt a thrill go through him. This was interesting, this was worth his time. Much more so than snorting tequila and salt from a random woman’s slick body or dancing poorly on rickety tables. Castiel felt more alive in this moment than he had in years.
“Five seconds ain’t even a challenge,” the big man said, interrupting them.
Dean seemed to shake himself.
“Eight, then,” Castiel said with a confident smirk. “I bet you fifty bucks you won’t last another eight seconds.”
“Fifty bucks,” Dean muttered, eyeing Castiel’s suit for the first time and seemingly only now realizing it wasn’t a cheap knock-off. “You better be able to fork that up, dude.”
“Don’t you worry about that, cowboy,” Castiel winked and watched with satisfaction how Dean’s pupils dilated slightly.
He muttered something that sounded like “whatever” and turned to go back to the bull. It had been busy in the background, flinging people off it left and right, and the crowd around it had grown even more but Castiel easily found an empty seat where he could comfortably watch from afar.
Dean was talking to his friends, some of them throwing Castiel looks, but Dean seemed determined to do this. Castiel hoped they weren’t trying to talk him out of it because they thought he would hurt himself, Castiel would be devastated if he inadvertently caused Dean harm. Most likely they were talking about the money, though, on the off-chance that Dean lost the bet. Castiel really hoped that wouldn’t happen. No this was a battle he was willing to lose, to win the war, so to speak.
When it was finally Dean’s turn to mount the bull again Castiel was buzzing with anticipation, although he concealed it well enough. He saw Dean’s friends tossing him glances from where they were standing, up by the ring, but he paid them no heed. He was perfectly comfortable back here, where he could pull one leg up and rest the ankle against his other knee, to hide inappropriate body reactions.
Because Dean was of course just as splendid the other time around. Time seemed to flow in slow-motion as Dean expertly rode the bull. He was either a natural or he had done this a lot, Castiel easily concluded. Maybe he had even ridden real bulls? Now there was a thought.
A thick, muscular, frothing animal bucking as Dean worked every muscle in his glorious body just to stay on.
Castiel grabbed his ankle and pulled on his leg a little, his dick swelling to ridiculous proportions just imagining Dean working the animal. Dean’s face and body told of experience and Castiel watched with hooded eyes as Dean frowned down at the fake bull, concentration wearing on his handsome face.
Would he look as concentrated when he rode Castiel? Most likely not, not if Castiel had any say in what went on. No, if he—when he was in charge, Dean would be completely relaxed, face slack as pleasure crested inside him.
Castiel let out a shaky breath. He needed to calm down or Dean would be more disgusted than intrigued and Castiel didn’t want that at all. Suddenly he felt as if he would suffocate if Dean looked at him with hatred and he was momentarily stunned by his own feelings. What did he care, really, what Dean thought of him? Dean was essentially a nobody, a stranger whose station was so below Castiel’s it wasn’t even funny.
Except, when he watched Dean ride that bull, all of that seemed inconsequential. They were just two men in that moment, and Castiel desired to stay like that almost as much as he desired Dean, as much as he coveted the man’s pleasure.
The ride ended somewhat more abruptly this time, compared to when last Dean rode. It still looked as if Dean had been in control of when to end it but as if he had been a bit more tired this time around and his tumble off the bull was less graceful and it took him a moment longer to get up off the padded area around the bull.
The long-haired man helped Dean off the stage and Castiel stood up just as Dean walked over to him on adorably wobbly legs. A quick glance to the digital clock revealed an astounding 9.57 and Castiel made sure to show appropriate surprise and awe, instead of the actual relief and arousal he actually felt.
“There,” Dean said, hands on his hips and voice delectably breathless. “Piece of cake.”
“So I see,” Castiel said smugly and walked over to Dean, much too close even for acquaintances. “I’m man enough to own up to my loss,” he said with a smile and pulled out his wallet to fish out a fifty, one among many, though he didn’t show Dean that, not interested in catching the man that way.
“I hope there’s no hard feelings?” Dean said as he accepted the bill, their fingers brushing.
Dean’s hand was shaking slightly, no doubt from exertion, and Castiel was happy he had lowered the time for the bet so as not to force Dean to match his old time.
“None at all,” Castiel said with an intimate smile, leaning in and speaking in a lower tone. “You should know, I’m also man enough to admit that I only wanted to see you ride that bull again.”
That made Dean’s eyes flick down to Castiel’s mouth and up again. Castiel enjoyed the fact that Dean actually was a bit taller than him, if only an inch, and definitely bigger.
There was a beat of silence and then, “Are you sure you’re only interested in seeing me ride bulls?”
A pleasurable wave so forceful it almost choked him washed over Castiel and he swallowed once to be sure his voice was under control.
“I can imagine you’re apt at riding all sorts of things.”
Dean shifted from foot to foot. Castiel’s blood rushed in his ears, drowning out every sound except Dean’s.
“You content with imagining it or do you want a demonstration?”
Castiel arched an eyebrow, enjoying Dean’s challenging tone and squared jaw, but not as much as Dean’s reaction to the look Castiel gave him. There was clear arousal in Dean’s eyes now and Castiel reveled in it.
“I have a car outside and an apartment not far from here.”
Dean flashed him that wonderfully cocky grin of his. “Deal.”
Castiel took a moment to check his phone when Dean turned to talk to his friends. A quick message ensured that his limousine driver would pull up outside the club no more than five minutes from now and Castiel smiled to himself as he heard Dean explain that he would “take a hike”.
“Dean, are you sure that’s—”
“Gotta live a little, Sammy,” Dean said happily and slapped the long-haired man on his back before walking over to Castiel. “Good to go?”
“If you are?” Castiel said but started walking through the crowd around them without waiting for a reply. Dean easily kept up with his pace, as Castiel had suspected he would.
“Don’t mind Sam, he’s just being an overprotective little brother.”
Castiel nodded, not having much experience with that but understanding it anyway. “Maybe he’s right to worry a little, considering the things I have in mind for you.”
“Oh yeah?” Dean smirked just as they exited the club, the fresh summer air a blessing compared to the scorching heat of the club. Castiel breathed a deep sigh of relief. “What are you planning anyway? You seem pretty vanilla to me.”
Castiel smiled at the playful insult. “And yet you came with me.”
“Hey,” Dean said, voice suddenly low and seductive. “You’re like the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, I don’t care what you wanna do, I’m in.”
Not that Castiel was really planning anything more outrageous than rimming Dean until the man cried from the need to have Castiel’s hard dick inside him, but it was good to know Dean felt inclined to trust him.
Dean’s eyes nearly budged out of their sockets when Castiel’s limousine pulled up and the driver jumped out to open the back door for them. Several people on the curb outside the club were also eyeing the sleek, black car, but Castiel didn’t care one bit about them, too entranced with Dean’s impressed expression.
“Dude,” Dean breathed. “What the fuck?”
“Oh, did I forget to mention?” Castiel said, tone fake nonchalant. “I’m filthy rich.”
Dean practically hurled himself into the limousine and the astonished sounds he made at absolutely everything made even then experienced driver quirk his lips. Castiel met the man’s eyes and smiled himself.
“Take us to my apartment,” he said in a low tone so Dean wouldn’t hear. “Though I wouldn’t mind if you took the scenic route.”
“I understand, sir,” the man said, voice nothing but professional. “I will leave the divider up and flash the lights when we’re approaching your apartment, sir.”
Castiel placed a folded fifty in the man’s breast pocket, patting it. “Good man.”
“This is fucking awesome,” Dean exclaimed as soon as Castiel joined him. “And here I was feeling bad about the money I won from you. I was gonna give it back.”
“Why?” Castiel chuckled just as the driver got in and the limousine started moving. “You won it fair and square.”
“Yeah but still, that’s a lot of money,” Dean mumbled and examined the minibar with uninhibited glee, though he was careful not to touch anything, Castiel saw.
For all his excitement, Dean was by far one of the more polite people Castiel had had in his limousine and he desired the man all the more for it.
“Dean,” he beckoned, hand out. “Come join me.”
Dean easily moved over to Castiel; big body graceful in its own way as he sat down beside Castiel on the plush seat that ran along the limousine’s back. He sat down much closer than necessary and Castiel immediately put his arm around Dean’s waist, hugging him to his side.
“You know my name, but I don’t even know yours,” Dean murmured, eyes on Castiel’s lips. “I’m kinda stupid for even getting in this thing with you, huh?”
“My name is Castiel,” Castiel said, other hand brushing down Dean’s front, catching on the edge of the man’s jeans. “And please don’t call yourself stupid.”
Dean shifted so that they were sitting facing each other, one of his legs between Castiel’s, and Dean’s hands working on opening Castiel’s suit jacket.
“Castiel is too long for me to scream when I come,” he said, voice making Castiel’s body vibrate with desire. “I’m gonna call you Cas.”
“Please do,” Castiel answered, voice equally hushed, and nosed closer so that Dean turned his head just as their hands found each other’s hard-ons. “My friends do.”
Dean moaned into their first kiss, low and sweet and all for Castiel. He swallowed it greedily, pressing closer as Dean pressed the heel of his hand against Castiel’s dick. Their lips slid together, noses bumping, but Castiel was too wound up to keep to sweet kisses for long. Dean seemed just as eager in the way he opened up when Castiel licked his lips and Castiel pushed in deep, owned Dean in that one gesture and felt a chilled heat pool in his groin.
Dean, for all his physical strength, sagged against Castiel, moaning into the kisses and pawing at Castiel’s dick. Castiel’s plan was simple in this moment: get Dean hot and bothered so that he would be pliant and willing by the time they got to Castiel’s apartment.
Too bad his own pleasure was spiking almost dangerously already.
“Fuck you’re good at kissing,” Dean groaned when they pulled apart. “I’m so hard already, goddamn.”
“I got hard from watching you ride the bull,” Castiel was surprised by his own sincerity but Dean seemed only pleased.
“I could feel your eyes on me the second time,” he murmured. “I liked it.”
Fuck it, Castiel would just have to come up with a way for them to get hot and hard again when they arrived. He needed Dean too much right in this moment to show any kind of restraint.
With one tug and a push, he had flipped them so that Dean was on his back on the seat, Castiel comfortable between the man’s strong legs. Legs that had hugged that bull like they wanted to crush it were now around him. Castiel’s dick jumped in his dress pants and Dean no doubt noticed.
“You like me watching you?” he asked, voice a low rumble and Dean parted his lips, nodding and looking up at Castiel with big eyes. “Do you want me to see you in your pleasure, Dean?”
“Fuck,” Dean pressed out, one hand grabbing Castiel’s arm and the other digging between them to start opening his jeans. “I can’t wait, Cas. How the fuck far away is your apartment?”
Not this long, Castiel knew, and he grinned to himself.
“You don’t think you’ll make it, is that it?” he asked, rising to help Dean get their dicks out. “Do you want to let some out now?”
“I’m riding you tonight,” Dean shot back, eyes glinting and Castiel shuddered with pleasure.
“I’ll remember that, little cowboy.”
Dean opened his mouth to no doubt banter back but instead a deep groan forced itself out when Castiel pressed their hard dicks together for the first time. Castiel’s whole body sagged with pleasure and he pressed his knees harder against the seat, sitting up a little and putting one hand on the back of the seat for support as he took their dicks in his other hand, squeezing them.
Dean arched his back, gasping and grabbing the seat under him as his body shuddered. His dick jumped in Castiel’s grip, pressing against Castiel’s and there was really no stopping him now. Yes, he wanted to wait, and no, they didn’t even have lube, but the desire was choking him, and Dean was making all the right sounds as Castiel started jacking them. They were both uncut so that helped some, and Dean was apparently one of those guys who had a lot of precome because Castiel’s hand got sticky fast enough.
“I’ll take such good care of you,” Castiel huffed out, breathless now as the pleasure burned white-hot inside him. “Rim you, prep you, fuck you.”
Dean moaned, legs flexing around Castiel. “I’m gonna ride you until you cry,” he pressed out through gritted teeth and Castiel felt an unexpected surge of arousal at the challenge. “Gonna ruin you for all other asses.”
Oh sweet Lord, Castiel was going to come soon. He had never been this attracted to someone, the way Dean challenged him even while submitting was blowing Castiel’s mind.
“You’ll never want another dick,” he managed to quip, words clipped, and sped up his hand.
They rocked together in the dim light of the limousine, the world outside forgotten as they came together, hands grabbing each other and dicks aching, yearning to release. Castiel’s balls had pulled up, so prepared to shoot all over Dean, and Dean’s dick was leaking a continuous stream of precome that Castiel craved to taste.
His spine burned with his arousal and he panted hotly, leaning down over Dean again, one hand on the seat beside Dean’s head as Dean grabbed his body to pull him even closer.
“I’m gonna fucking come,” Dean grunted, pushing away Castiel’s hand and wrapping his legs around Castiel’s hips, bucking up. “Kiss me.”
Castiel readily indulged Dean, hips working to grind their hard dicks together and though it was rough with their clothes and zippers in the way, it was the most glorious Castiel had ever felt. Dean kissed him as if he were a man parched and Castiel cradled Dean’s head, one hand on Dean’s hip, encouraging his movements.
True to his word, Dean came only moments later, body locking up and a shaky moan escaping his parted lips. Wetness spread between them but far from being tacky, it only spurred Castiel on and he came too, a handful of thrusts later.
“Well, that was something,” Dean panted after a moment.
Castiel blinked and did his best to pull back but his head was swimming a bit. “It wasn’t what I had planned,” he admitted and couldn’t help but grin down at the mess they had made. It was all over their clothes. Dean of course looked ravishing covered in Castiel’s come. “But then, the night is young.”
“Definitely,” Dean grinned up at him, cocky as ever. “You ain’t getting out of that ride.”
Castiel felt a renewed wave of arousal just as the overhead light flashed around them. “Oh, I’m counting on it,” he smirked, thinking that for all its faults, the night couldn’t have turned out better in the end.