Move Like You Mean It (for meloenijs)
Title: Move Like You Mean It (for meloenijs)
Author: Annabella_aar
Recipient: meloenijs
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Cas
Genre: Romance
Warnings: exotic dancing, drug use, profanity
Rating: PG13
Prompts Used: AU where stoner!Cas is a poledancer.
Summary: One day, Dean would just take what he wanted, but until then, they would play this little game.
Cas stood behind the Heads or Tails exotic dance club as he took a final hit of the joint before throwing it to the ground, smashing the butt beneath his heel in a well memorized twisting motion. Ellen would be pissed that he was smoking that shit on the grounds, but he couldn’t help it. Too many amphetamines were starting to make him twitchy and agitated, he needed a downer. Sometimes, balancing out the plethora of drugs coursing through his system was exhausting.
Cutting down the alley, he headed towards the employee entrance just in time to see Dean, the clubs bouncer, pull into the parking lot. The black ’67 Impala (and just how sad was it that Cas knew more about that damned car than he did about his own father) purred like a contented cat before Dean cut the engine. Sliding from the car in one smooth practiced motion before walking around to the passenger door to retrieve his bag, bending in that oh so perfect way to give Cas the best view of that firm ass.
Best part of his day.
Turning back around, Dean started towards the entrance, raising a hand in greeting. “Hey, Cas.” Dean’s nose wrinkled as he got closer, “Again, Cas? Shit, are you looking to get fired or something? Spray of some of that Axe, or whatever it is you strippers use to cover the smell of sweet and shame.”
Sidling closer to Dean, he purposely brushed against him as he entered the club, “The correct term is poledancer.” Cas smirked over his shoulder at the bouncer, “And trust me, I have no shame.
Half-past eleven found Cas sitting at his prep station, dressed in the easiest to remove fashions. His halo was just slightly crooked and the wings were bunched up in the back. The white leather pants he was wearing left very little to the imagination, not like it would matter since the sparkling glitter thong beneath covered even less. Adding the last finishing touches to his hair was taking longer than normal thanks to the tremors currently rippling through his fingers. Closing his eyes in frustration, Cas buried his head in his hands and sighed. Stupid sex-hair might take ages to get perfect, but damn does it pay out at the end of the night.
Despite feeling the presence behind him, Cas still jumped at the sensation of finger sliding through his hair. Opening one blurry eye he noted Dean’s reflection in the mirror, as the other man styled the mess. “You know, Cas, if you just stopped doing this shit it would make the whole getting ready thing a hell of a lot easier.”
He smirked in response to Dean’s gentle rebuff. This was starting to become a regular occurrence of late. Dean made it very clear he didn’t approve of Cas’s lifestyle the first time he caught Cas sneaking pills in between sets. Once, after a particularly bad night, Dean had even gone so far as to offer to pay for rehab, though Cas had laughed it off immediately. Dean never said much after that, but the message was clear.
“True, but then I would have to suffer through that bachelorette party sober and we all know how bad an idea that is.”
Dean said nothing, letting the disappointment hang like a palpable entity in the air. He added the finishing twists to Cas’s hair and readjusted the halo. Suddenly the chair spun throwing Cas’s world into chaos. If it wasn’t for the strong arms anchoring him to his seat he surely would have fallen. When the world finally came into focus his vision was filled with vibrant green. “Don’t bullshit me. You can barely stay upright in that chair.”
“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas ground out through gritted teeth, eyes closed tight and breathing shallowly. “Fuck off.”
Abruptly he was released, “You know what, fine! You’re the boss.”
It took longer than he liked to admit to pull himself together. That silly spin in the chair was nothing compared to the stunts he would be pulling on stage. If he could barely keep his sit together for that, well, as long as he didn’t throw up on a bridesmaid he probably wouldn’t be fired. Ellen would yell and storm but at least he would still have a job in the morning.
He unsteadily made his way to the stage, letting the sound of the crowd lead him to the stage like a siren’s call. Already he could hear Ash getting the crowd riled, explaining the “Rules of Touching” as state mandated. Of course, with Ash it wasn’t so much about what not to do, more how to get around the rules. Regardless, no one could turn on a crowd better.
"Now tonight, ladies, tonight we have a very special treat. Heads and Tail proudly presents, for you pleasure, our very own fallen Angel!"
One last shaky breath and he was sauntering across the stage, all graceful predatory lines and liquid movements. Here the poison of the drugs pulsating in his veins gave him power, here they let him feel the music in a way sobriety just doesn’t allow for. That was something that Dean would never understand.
Letting the music guide him, he drew close to the pole, wrapping too skinny leg around and bracing tight with his hand as he started to thrust and grind to the music. Across the room he met Dean’s eyes and smirked, tossing his head and grinning wickedly as he bent and slid and twisted to the beat. He smiled seductively for the crowd, leering and winking, licking his lips. His lithe form sliding up and down on the pole, movement’s slow and meticulous, eyes promising dirty sex. Women whooped and hollered, screaming out in ecstasy, the drum setting the beat that would be more appropriate for a fast, dirty fuck than the slow seduction that was building. With a single turn he was flipped upside down, sliding down in one sinful movement.
Unfortunately, the movement threw off his equilibrium. The world tilted on its axis, the lights blurring together into a haze of smoke and neon. His eyes scanned the room, searching for an anchor to focus on as he up righted himself.
Dean.
The other man stood by the door, eyes locked on Cas’s body, lip peeking out from slightly parted lips, eyes widened in arousal. Green eyes followed his every movement, tracking the way Cas unwound himself from around the pole and he planted his legs firmly on the ground once again. Meeting Dean’s eyes, Cas let the rest of the world melt away till it was just the two of them. He knew he shouldn’t be so focused on just one man, that this little eye-fuck session with Dean was really going to cost him in tips, but the way that Dean was looking at him, all predatory and demanding, he just couldn’t stop.
Tonight, the crowd could fuck themselves. Tonight, this is all for Dean.
With a final midair twirl around the pole, he flew through the air and landed on one knee on the stage, head down, chest heaving with exertion. Dean was gone. Masking his disappointment with a shit-eating grin, Cas shook his hair back laughed as the audience yelled and whistled its approval; then he rose gracefully to his feet before bowing out to the crowd.
The moment he was behind the curtain two arms hoisted him forwards. Dean crowded Can against the wall, mouth hot and demanding on his, head angling for better access. Cas lost himself in the onslaught, in the sensation of being dominated. He opened his mouth wider, letting take his fill, moaning from the simple action of being kissed. Dean’s hand tangled through his tangled mop of hair dislodging the halo and throwing it to the side and gripped his hair tight. The other hand trailed own Cas’s side, cupping his ass and bringing Cas closer still. Dean’s lips trailed down his neck, sucking on a particularly sensitive spot before pulling off completely.
“Damn, Cas, the shit you do to me.” Dean rested against him, breath ruffling the hairs on his neck, refusing to go any further. This was also starting to become a regular, and franking much more annoying, occurrence. They both wanted this, but for some reason Dean just wouldn’t go further.
Dean stared steadily as Cas, eyes searching for something. Obviously, he didn’t see it. Dean sighed wearily sagging slightly in defeat. “C’mon, let’s get some breakfast.”
Cas smiled to himself. He could wait. One day, Dean would accept him for what he was. One day Dean would just take what he wanted, but until then, they would play this little game. “Whatever you say, fearless leader.”
Author: Annabella_aar
Recipient: meloenijs
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Cas
Genre: Romance
Warnings: exotic dancing, drug use, profanity
Rating: PG13
Prompts Used: AU where stoner!Cas is a poledancer.
Summary: One day, Dean would just take what he wanted, but until then, they would play this little game.
Cas stood behind the Heads or Tails exotic dance club as he took a final hit of the joint before throwing it to the ground, smashing the butt beneath his heel in a well memorized twisting motion. Ellen would be pissed that he was smoking that shit on the grounds, but he couldn’t help it. Too many amphetamines were starting to make him twitchy and agitated, he needed a downer. Sometimes, balancing out the plethora of drugs coursing through his system was exhausting.
Cutting down the alley, he headed towards the employee entrance just in time to see Dean, the clubs bouncer, pull into the parking lot. The black ’67 Impala (and just how sad was it that Cas knew more about that damned car than he did about his own father) purred like a contented cat before Dean cut the engine. Sliding from the car in one smooth practiced motion before walking around to the passenger door to retrieve his bag, bending in that oh so perfect way to give Cas the best view of that firm ass.
Best part of his day.
Turning back around, Dean started towards the entrance, raising a hand in greeting. “Hey, Cas.” Dean’s nose wrinkled as he got closer, “Again, Cas? Shit, are you looking to get fired or something? Spray of some of that Axe, or whatever it is you strippers use to cover the smell of sweet and shame.”
Sidling closer to Dean, he purposely brushed against him as he entered the club, “The correct term is poledancer.” Cas smirked over his shoulder at the bouncer, “And trust me, I have no shame.
Half-past eleven found Cas sitting at his prep station, dressed in the easiest to remove fashions. His halo was just slightly crooked and the wings were bunched up in the back. The white leather pants he was wearing left very little to the imagination, not like it would matter since the sparkling glitter thong beneath covered even less. Adding the last finishing touches to his hair was taking longer than normal thanks to the tremors currently rippling through his fingers. Closing his eyes in frustration, Cas buried his head in his hands and sighed. Stupid sex-hair might take ages to get perfect, but damn does it pay out at the end of the night.
Despite feeling the presence behind him, Cas still jumped at the sensation of finger sliding through his hair. Opening one blurry eye he noted Dean’s reflection in the mirror, as the other man styled the mess. “You know, Cas, if you just stopped doing this shit it would make the whole getting ready thing a hell of a lot easier.”
He smirked in response to Dean’s gentle rebuff. This was starting to become a regular occurrence of late. Dean made it very clear he didn’t approve of Cas’s lifestyle the first time he caught Cas sneaking pills in between sets. Once, after a particularly bad night, Dean had even gone so far as to offer to pay for rehab, though Cas had laughed it off immediately. Dean never said much after that, but the message was clear.
“True, but then I would have to suffer through that bachelorette party sober and we all know how bad an idea that is.”
Dean said nothing, letting the disappointment hang like a palpable entity in the air. He added the finishing twists to Cas’s hair and readjusted the halo. Suddenly the chair spun throwing Cas’s world into chaos. If it wasn’t for the strong arms anchoring him to his seat he surely would have fallen. When the world finally came into focus his vision was filled with vibrant green. “Don’t bullshit me. You can barely stay upright in that chair.”
“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas ground out through gritted teeth, eyes closed tight and breathing shallowly. “Fuck off.”
Abruptly he was released, “You know what, fine! You’re the boss.”
It took longer than he liked to admit to pull himself together. That silly spin in the chair was nothing compared to the stunts he would be pulling on stage. If he could barely keep his sit together for that, well, as long as he didn’t throw up on a bridesmaid he probably wouldn’t be fired. Ellen would yell and storm but at least he would still have a job in the morning.
He unsteadily made his way to the stage, letting the sound of the crowd lead him to the stage like a siren’s call. Already he could hear Ash getting the crowd riled, explaining the “Rules of Touching” as state mandated. Of course, with Ash it wasn’t so much about what not to do, more how to get around the rules. Regardless, no one could turn on a crowd better.
"Now tonight, ladies, tonight we have a very special treat. Heads and Tail proudly presents, for you pleasure, our very own fallen Angel!"
One last shaky breath and he was sauntering across the stage, all graceful predatory lines and liquid movements. Here the poison of the drugs pulsating in his veins gave him power, here they let him feel the music in a way sobriety just doesn’t allow for. That was something that Dean would never understand.
Letting the music guide him, he drew close to the pole, wrapping too skinny leg around and bracing tight with his hand as he started to thrust and grind to the music. Across the room he met Dean’s eyes and smirked, tossing his head and grinning wickedly as he bent and slid and twisted to the beat. He smiled seductively for the crowd, leering and winking, licking his lips. His lithe form sliding up and down on the pole, movement’s slow and meticulous, eyes promising dirty sex. Women whooped and hollered, screaming out in ecstasy, the drum setting the beat that would be more appropriate for a fast, dirty fuck than the slow seduction that was building. With a single turn he was flipped upside down, sliding down in one sinful movement.
Unfortunately, the movement threw off his equilibrium. The world tilted on its axis, the lights blurring together into a haze of smoke and neon. His eyes scanned the room, searching for an anchor to focus on as he up righted himself.
Dean.
The other man stood by the door, eyes locked on Cas’s body, lip peeking out from slightly parted lips, eyes widened in arousal. Green eyes followed his every movement, tracking the way Cas unwound himself from around the pole and he planted his legs firmly on the ground once again. Meeting Dean’s eyes, Cas let the rest of the world melt away till it was just the two of them. He knew he shouldn’t be so focused on just one man, that this little eye-fuck session with Dean was really going to cost him in tips, but the way that Dean was looking at him, all predatory and demanding, he just couldn’t stop.
Tonight, the crowd could fuck themselves. Tonight, this is all for Dean.
With a final midair twirl around the pole, he flew through the air and landed on one knee on the stage, head down, chest heaving with exertion. Dean was gone. Masking his disappointment with a shit-eating grin, Cas shook his hair back laughed as the audience yelled and whistled its approval; then he rose gracefully to his feet before bowing out to the crowd.
The moment he was behind the curtain two arms hoisted him forwards. Dean crowded Can against the wall, mouth hot and demanding on his, head angling for better access. Cas lost himself in the onslaught, in the sensation of being dominated. He opened his mouth wider, letting take his fill, moaning from the simple action of being kissed. Dean’s hand tangled through his tangled mop of hair dislodging the halo and throwing it to the side and gripped his hair tight. The other hand trailed own Cas’s side, cupping his ass and bringing Cas closer still. Dean’s lips trailed down his neck, sucking on a particularly sensitive spot before pulling off completely.
“Damn, Cas, the shit you do to me.” Dean rested against him, breath ruffling the hairs on his neck, refusing to go any further. This was also starting to become a regular, and franking much more annoying, occurrence. They both wanted this, but for some reason Dean just wouldn’t go further.
Dean stared steadily as Cas, eyes searching for something. Obviously, he didn’t see it. Dean sighed wearily sagging slightly in defeat. “C’mon, let’s get some breakfast.”
Cas smiled to himself. He could wait. One day, Dean would accept him for what he was. One day Dean would just take what he wanted, but until then, they would play this little game. “Whatever you say, fearless leader.”