New Santorum Chapter
Castiel nodded.
Castiel nodded, and suddenly, there wasn’t a space between them anymore. There was no space, no air keeping them apart, separate. There was just Castiel’s mouth on his, Dean leaning forwards, and kissing him, and then Dean had the taste of tequila and wine and Castiel in his mouth, painty hands on his shoulders, cupping his neck, bold, blunt teeth pulling at his lip, and the warm smell of clean skin, paint and powdered sugar coming from Castiel’s skin.
Dean hadn’t realised he’d tensed as he’d reached for Castiel, until his whole body relaxed into the kiss, relaxed against him and left him lying half on top of Cas’s body, half leaning in the couch. Castiel grunted softly at the pressure, then broke away a little and changed the angle of the kiss, settling comfortably.
It just kind of happened, with neither of them pushing for anything, the kiss grew, until Dean was palming Castiel’s hips through his baggy sweats, arching up so Castiel’s hands could sweep over his chest. He hadn’t even noticed Castiel’s legs parting, the way his body had sunk between them, until he pressed down as Castiel moved and a low, intense heat built in his lower body.
Dean pulled his mouth away from where Castiel was doing his level best to make his lips as plump and bruised as Dean was making his, and leaned up a little, palms flat on the couch cushions behind Castiel’s head.
“Just so you know...this is pretty fucking awesome.” Dean muttered.
Castiel pressed up against him, hips rubbing in a way that left Dean in no doubt that both of them were hard, and that feeling Castiel rub against him like that was one of his favourite sensations of all time.
“Fucking amazing,” he growled, pressing Castiel firmly in the couch and sinking back into the almost too hot embrace, feeling Castiel’s hands on his back, cupping his ass, raking short, firm nails over his skin. Their mouths were loose, wet, slicking tongues and lips together in a way Dean hadn’t done since he was a teenager and kissing was pretty much all he’d been allowed to do. With his eyes closed, Dean’s perception was limited to Castiel’s perfect mouth, the scent of his hot skin, the hundred points where they touched each other, the loose bunch of fabric turned warm by skin, the hot catch of hands on hips and stomachs and the shuddery, deep heat when Castiel pressed up against him, and Dean felt his erection, trapped against his leg, throb almost desperately against Cas’s tented sweatpants.
And then it was gone, and Castiel had pushed him away, and bunched up at one end of the sofa, catching his breath and gritting his teeth against the sudden lack of touching.
Dean stayed where he’d been pushed, but blinked, surprised. “Cas, what-”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
Castiel shook his head like he was trying to dispel Dean’s influence as well as the alcohols effects. “You’re drunk enough, and I’m a little drunk and...we can’t do this if you’re even the tiniest bit compromised.”
“What?”
“If you do this, because you’re drunk, and then we wake up and, you blame me, or you think it was a mistake, where does that leave me?”
Dean looked at him, at Castiel’s flushed face and bitten lips, and realised just how shitty he was being, to ignore Castiel and then turn up at his house and make a pass at him.
“You know I want this, right?” he said.
“I know you do right now,” Castiel offered. He stood up, wincing a little and tilting his head back to stretch. “You shouldn’t be driving. You can have the couch if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” Dean swallowed and found himself suddenly awkward, feeling guilty. “Night Cas.”
“Goodnight Dean.”
Castiel padded into his bedroom and closed the door.
Dean collapsed onto the couch and growled into the cushions under his face. How could he have been such a dumbass?
He didn’t sleep that well, and kept waking up not knowing where he was. The couch smelt like Castiel, and now that he’d gotten worked up his body was reluctant to let go of the idea that he was going to get lucky.
Dean woke up sometime after it started getting light outside, and got up to pee. That was when he realised that the only door in the apartment led into Castiel’s bedroom.
He eased the door open, and in the grey light saw that the room was covered in tangled clothing, piles of books that had escaped from shelves covering one wall. There were magazines on the floor, mainly arty stuff with statues on the covers, though he did slip on a ‘Big Dick Monthly’ on his way to the bathroom door.
The tiny en suite was clean and uncluttered, there was a row of bottles on the small windowsill, a shower cubicle and a toilet opposite a miniature sink. On the side of the sink was a white china pot containing a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, and a slim, black vibrator.
When Dean came out of the bathroom, he saw that Castiel had turned over, and separated himself from the tangled sheets. His dark hair was distinct against the pale duvet, and as Dean watched, his face creased in a frown and muttered something under his breath that sounded like ‘Gabriel, go away.”
Dean crossed the room and went back into the living room. He wasn’t tired anymore, but he was thirsty, so he ran off a glass of water in the newly painted kitchen and sat on the couch to drink it. He was definitely sober now, not that he’d been especially drunk before, but he’d had that warm, buzzy feeling that came with just enough alcohol to kill off your inhibitions.
He’d kissed Castiel. Made a full-on move on the guy, on a guy. He’d felt an actual erection against him that wasn’t his own, and that wasn’t part of filming a porno to make quick cash. And he hadn’t freaked out. If anything, he’d been disappointed when Castiel pulled away from him. He’d been fully prepared for clothes to come off, for nakedness and sex to happen.
Maybe Castiel was right...maybe he was kinda gay.
You’re seriously just tuning in?
Dean was not ready for his brain to start calling him an idiot, so he forced it to shut up. What he needed, he decided, was a litmus test. A definite indication of how gay he was, or, if he was just getting worried over nothing, maybe he was just used to having sex with Castiel, and his body had gotten all confused. It wasn’t like he liked guys plural.
He crept into Castiel’s room, picked up the magazine he’d slipped on, and crept back to the sofa.
Dean flicked through the porn magazine, clearly an old one that Castiel had kept after the great porno-embargo. Naked guys. Guys with dicks. Dean probed his thoughts gently, trying to work out if he was in the least bit turned on. He wasn’t getting hard, but, then, flicking through a dirty magazine in someone else’s living room hadn’t provoked that kind of reaction since he was about fourteen.
In the end, he took out his cell and called Sam.
“Dean, it’s like...five in the morning. What the hell?”
“You’re the one that left me down town, asshole.”
“Oh, right,” he heard Sam sitting up in bed, and a noise that might have been Gabriel calling for the blood of the man who was interrupting his sleep. Sam shushed him. “So, how’d it go with Castiel?”
“Pretty good, we talked, we drank, I painted his kitchen and then we dry humped all over the couch AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!”
“What? Also, Eww, but, what?”
“Why did you make me come over here? Now everything’s all gay, and everything sucks.”
“I didn’t make you dry hump,” Sam said, “why did you do that...do you, I mean, are you gay now?”
“That’s why I’m calling.”
“To tell me you’re gay?”
“No, to ask.”
“To...ask, if you’re gay?”
“Yes.”
There was a long, long pause.
“Ok, I’m giving Gabriel the phone, this is all just...not something I should have to deal with.”
There was a crackle, and a muffled conversation, in which Dean caught the words ‘that thing for a month, ok? I’ll even wear the...’ and then the line came alive with Gabriel’s voice.
“Hey Dean, you’re gay. Anything else I can help you with?”
“How do you know that thought?” Dean asked.
“Uh, because I have eyes, and ears, and I’ve been watching your sex tapes.” Gabriel said, “I mean, for a guy who’s supposedly straight, you’ve really been going to town on my brother.”
“That doesn’t mean...”
“Yeah, it does. You could have chosen literally anyone else on the planet to screw my baby bro, and you chose...you. And I know this is 2012, the modern era where sexuality is fluid and all that crap, but, screwing guys still makes you at least bi.”
Dean sat in silence, coming to terms with the fact that, for once, Gabriel was right about something.
“Anyway, I’m guessing from your lack of words that you’re going to over think this so...just go bone my brother, have some fun, explore your sexual limits, have a good old fashioned gay, butt, hoedown. But so help me, if you hurt his feelings, and I have to hear about it, I will nailing your balls to the wall.”
Sam came back on the line, and said, “Dean? Yeah...I have nothing else to add. Except...you know, never tell me about your sex life, because, that would be really weird...and might ruin guys for me.”
“Ok.” Dean said.
“Oh, and, you know, I hope you’re really happy with Castiel, you guys seem really awesome together.”
“Thanks Sam.”
Dean hung up and sat for a moment with his phone in his hands, just letting stuff settle in his head. So he was a little gay, gay for Castiel...he could maybe handle that, just. He was still the same guy he’d been yesterday, he still liked girls. Just...now he liked them ‘as well as’. And he’d been wrong about gay guys, Sam wasn’t some kind of freak...well, he was, but that wasn’t to do with him liking dick. And Gabriel was different, and Castiel was different again. So, who was to say he couldn’t be at least a little gay and still an awesome guy?
He waited a while longer, until he figured Castiel couldn’t be pissed at him for waking him up, then he went into his bedroom and sat down on the end of the bed.
“Cas?”
Castiel muttered something about olives.
“Cas, c’mon, wake up.”
Castiel’s legs kicked a little under the sheets, and he said something that definitely sounded like ‘no’.
Dean reached under the sheets and pulled Castiel’s foot out into the air.
Castiel opened his eyes and blinked like a moody marsupial before saying, in a voice at least three octaves lower than normal, “My head hurts”.
“Good morning to you too.” Dean handed Castiel the glass of water that he’d brought in with him. Castiel took it and reluctantly sat up. He swallowed about two thirds of it and then said,
“You’re still here.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you sleep ok?”
Dean moved up the bed, sitting with his back to the headboard, beside Castiel. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
Dean put his arm around Castiel’s stomach, and Castiel drained the last of the water and set the glass to one side, leaning against Dean’s chest.
“Cas?”
“Mmm?”
“I think I’m bi.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I just...I’m sorry about last night, but, I want to know, is that ok? I mean, do you still want to...”
Castiel twisted sideways and little and kissed him, when he pulled slowly away he said.
“I don’t discriminate. You’re new at this, but...yes, it’s ok.”
Dean couldn’t think of anything to say other than. “Good.”