Dean Winchester Does Not Cry During Sex
Title: Dean Winchester Does Not Cry During Sex
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 3000
Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Warnings: Swearing, sex, a highly-emotional Dean and hysterical Sam.
Summary: Dean is hit with a cuddling curse, and when he isn’t being hugged, he gets incredibly emotional and tearful. Thankfully, Sam and Cas are here to save the day. For princess_aleera.
Notes: This was a speed-write for princess_aleera’s birthday. It wasn’t meant to have porn. I got carried away and it just happened (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it). Happy Birthday! I hope you enjoy it!
(View in LJ's Light Format | AO3)
This is going right at the top of the ‘Shit Dean Will Never Again Talk About’ list. It’s a pretty long list, but Dean thinks he can make an exception of squeezing this right at the top.
Unfortunately, he’s pretty sure it’s right on the top of Sam’s ‘Shit Sam Will Never Forget And Will Always Mock Dean With’ list.
Life sucks. Like, really, really sucks. And now he’s getting teary, and feels like the entire world is falling down around him, and he’s trying to choke back sobs in the backseat of the Impala, because he can’t freakin’ drive it at the moment, all thanks to that witch bitch--
“Uh, Cas?” Sam says from the driver’s seat, looking through the rear-view mirror. “I think you need to, uh, cuddle him.”
Dean can see Sam trying to hold back the laughter on the word cuddle and it just makes him cry harder. Because really, this entire situation is so fucking unfair.
Cas’ arms wrap around his shoulders, solid and uncomfortable at first, and then it’s as if Cas’ entire body softens and Dean melts against his side, and lets out a slow breath of relief. The sadness seeps out of him, the tears begin to slow, and he finally feels okay again.
Small spluttering sounds are coming from the driver’s seat, and Dean glares over at him. It doesn’t do any good, because Sam bursts out laughing, the dick, and Dean deepens the glare because this shit is not right.
“Don’t say it, Sam. Don’t even say it.”
Sam lets out one more choked laugh and wipes a hand under his eye to catch any tears.
“Dean, you were cuddling, man--”
“Sammy,” Dean warns, although it’s a little less effective when he’s wrapped up in Cas’ arms, and Dean’s own arms have somehow found their way around Cas’ waist. “I swear to God, I will punch you right in the face.”
“I don’t think so, Dean,” Sam says, pulling off the main road and towards a greasy, road-side diner. “Not unless you’re going to be cuddling Cas at the same time--”
Sam breaks off in a fit of hysterics again and Dean pushes back off Cas, who has been watching the entire exchange with a bemused expression on his face, opens the door, and slams it behind him. He takes a few steps into the open air, and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not sulking, he’s not, but it’s not like he deserved to be cursed or anything. Freakin’ witch.
He lets out a small sob, and Sam tentatively walks up beside him. “Uh, Dean?” he says, tone much softer. “We’re going to get this sorted, you know.”
“Just - just give me a minute, Sammy,” Dean chokes out. Sam sighs, walks forward, and slowly wraps his arms around Dean. His tears promptly cease and then Dean feels the sadness get overtaken by anger.
“I’m going to kill that bitch,” he snaps, seething.
“I know, I know,” Sam says, still rubbing his back in comforting circles. “That bitch who cursed you to eternal tears if not for these comforting cuddles.”
“Fuck you, Sammy,” Dean says, leaning further into Sam’s chest and closing his eyes. “Just fuck you.”
***
Eating is an interesting affair. It involves being firmly pressed up against either Sam or Cas’ side while balancing food, and because sitting in Sam’s lap while he eats is difficult, not to mention just not right, he’s pressed right up against Cas, with Cas’ arm firmly around his waist.
“This sucks,” Dean declares to his cheeseburger, before taking a large bite and slowly chewing.
“Come on, it’s not the worse that could have happened,” Sam says around his mouthful of rabbit-food. “You could have, I don’t know, died or something.”
“Sam is right,” Cas says gravely. “You should be grateful that the witch cursed you to only prolonged embracing.”
“Only?” Dean says incredulously, throwing down his burger. “Dude, I’m sitting in a diner, cuddling an angel. A man angel. She might not have killed me, but death by embarrassment is pretty close right now.”
“Dean, there is nothing to be ashamed of. The majority of humans enjoy the act of cuddling.”
Sam is sitting opposite them in the booth, again trying, and failing, to hold back his laughter. “He’s right, Dean,” Sam chokes out. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”
Dean catches the eye of the waitress, who’s looking at them with big, doe-eyes, and looks two seconds away from cooing over them.
“Oh give me a break,” Dean mutters, as she begins to walk over.
“Can I get you boys anything?” She asks, eyeing Dean and Cas, a dopey smile on her face.
“I think they want to share an ice-cream,” Sam offers, still on the verge of hysterics, and Dean gives him a firm kick under the table. Sam shuts up and glares at Dean, bitchface in full force, and Dean smirks, satisfied.
“I think we’re okay,” he says, turning back to the waitress. “Thanks.”
“Can I just say,” she says, leaning forward and whispering loud enough for the entire room to hear, “you two are very cute. How long have you been dating?”
It’s unfortunate, that at that time, Sam’s mouth had been full of coffee. It’s equally unfortunate that it splutters out all over Dean’s face.
“That’s it,” Dean growls, pulling away from Cas’ arms and pushing past the shocked waitress.
And that’s when he bursts into tears in front of everyone in the diner.
***
It takes ten minutes of cuddling before Dean finally returns to normal, and Sam must finally realize this has gone on long enough, because he’s packing his bag full of herbs, matches and guns.
Dean is watching from the motel bed, curled up next to Cas, and Sam has got his determined expression on. Dean is sort of sad he’s going to be missing this.
“I’m not sure you should go there alone,” Dean offers, subconsciously snuggling closer to Cas. Cas just lets him and wraps the arm around him tighter.
“Don’t even try it, Dean,” Sam says, checking to make sure the guns are loaded. “I’ll be fine. I’ve just got to go in there, make her reverse the spell, and if anything goes wrong? Kill her.”
“Oh yeah, sounds easy. If you don’t burst into freakin’ tears while you’re there.”
“I’ll be fine. Keep cuddling him, Cas,” Sam says, walking towards the door with a smirk.
“Of course,” Cas replies back easily. Dean watches Sam leave, his back shaking in suppressed laughter.
“He just won’t let it up, will he?” Dean mumbles, closing his eyes, and resting his head against Cas’ chest. The more cuddly he gets, the less tearful he feels. He’s only doing this because he’s cursed. That’s it.
“I don’t understand why he finds the entire situation humorous,” Cas declares, and Dean snorts.
“You and me both.”
“I find it equally confusing why you find this situation so terrible.”
Dean tenses at that, and says slowly, “You don’t?”
“No,” Cas says easily. “I find cuddling with you enjoyable.”
Dean swallows and feels his heartbeat begin to quicken. “Oh,” he says, voice sounding higher than it should. “Yeah, well, I sort of like it, too.”
Dean waits as the impact of that statement finally hits, but Cas doesn’t say anything, only pulls Dean closer on the small motel bed. Dean turns on his side so there’s more space, and Cas follows suit, so that both their heads are on the pillow and they’re facing each other. Cas wraps an arm around Dean’s waist and pulls him closer.
“Thanks,” Dean says weakly, feeling himself swallow convulsively. He gingerly wraps his arm over Cas’ waist, and allows himself to breathe relief at the comfort he finds there.
Dean is not going to admit to anyone, ever, what happens next. He will firmly deny to his dying breath that he’s the one who initiates this, but the next thing he knows, his lips are pressing against Cas’, and after a long, painful couple of seconds, Cas finally gets with the program and is kissing back, slow but steady.
For a nerdy dude with wings, who’s never kissed before, he sure is a quick learner. Cas’ hand slips under the thin material of Dean’s shirt, so his hand is splayed on the small of Dean’s back, and Dean wiggles closer to Cas’ body, wanting to feel his warmth and solidity.
Cas allows him, welcomes it even if the small moans are anything to go by, and Dean starts the laborious task of shredding Cas of his trenchcoat, jacket, and shirt. Thankfully, Cas is in the realm of understanding what Dean wants, and they disappear in a heap on the floor before Dean has even got the trenchcoat off one shoulder. Hell yeah for mojo.
Dean’s shirt is the next thing to go, and Dean is more turned on than he’ll ever care to admit when Cas rips it in half and throws the offending object to the ground.
“Fuck,” Dean gasps out, as Cas starts working on his belt. Dean helps him, kicks his jeans off his legs, along with his boxers, all the while Cas continues to hug him and plant hurried, hungry kisses over his jaw, his neck, his collarbone.
Dean reaches down to pull the rest of Cas’ clothes off, only to find he’s completely naked, clothes already deposited in a heap on the floor, mojo-style.
“Want you, Dean,” Cas says in a hot breath against his neck, and Dean shivers, feels the same want pooling hot in his stomach. “Want to taste you.” His dick twitches as Cas continues kissing him, mouth moving down his body.
“Cas,” Dean whines, not wanting to interrupt this, but fuck, “you can’t stop cuddling.”
Cas doesn’t laugh at that, doesn’t seem to find it strange that Dean is picking a fucking cuddle over a blowjob, and Cas just moves back up the bed and pulls Dean into his arms. Dean lets out a sigh of relief at stopping the tears that were threatening to spill.
Dean Winchester does not fucking cry during sex.
He moves a hand lower under the covers, traces one over Cas’ jutting hipbones until he wraps his hand around Cas’ cock, starts jerking him off smooth and slow, and Cas begins whimpering in his ear, with the intermittent kiss along his neck. Dean groans, pressing himself against Cas’ thigh.
“C’mon, Cas. Want you to fuck me.”
“I want to fuck you, Dean,” Cas supplies, and fuck, it might not be dirty talk, but anything that comes out of that mouth in that gravelly voice, made even deeper with the anticipation of sex, goes straight to Dean’s dick.
“Grab my bag,” Dean gets out, and Cas leans backwards off the side of the bed, Dean still firmly in one arm, and picks up Dean’s green duffel bag from the floor beside the bed.
Cas drops it between them, and from between Cas’ arms as to not break the cuddling, Dean roots through it for the condoms and lube. He finds them at the bottom, pushes the bag off the bed, and opens the lube bottle.
“Keep cuddling, okay?” Dean gets out, pouring some of the cold lube into his hand.
“Yes, Dean,” Cas replies, eyes intense as he watches Dean coats the fingers of his left hand, and reaches down and behind his balls to prep himself.
He tells himself to relax, closes his eyes, and teases a little before slipping the first finger in. He’s tight, and involuntarily clenches around his finger.
“Fuck,” he says, pushing the finger in to the knuckle. “You’re gonna feel so full in me.”
It’s a little while since he’s done this, especially being on the receiving end, and he’s aware this is Cas’ first time, but fuck, he’s hungry for this, and he knows it’s what he wants, what he needs, and it has nothing to do with the curse.
He slips a second finger inside, and by now he’s moaning and shifting back against his fingers, and Cas is sucking greedily at his neck.
“Okay, okay, fuck, I’m ready,” Dean gasps out, and slowly slips his fingers out, and tears open the condom packet. He can do this bit with ridiculous ease, can do it in the dark, and slips it on Cas’ cock, a pearl of pre-come at the head, and slicks it up with lube.
“How the fuck are we going to do this?” Dean murmurs aloud. “Okay, okay. I’m gonna ride you--”
“Dean.”
“--and you’ll just have to keep your arms around me, okay?”
“Please.”
Dean grins, and manoeuvres himself on top of Cas, and Cas keeps his hands on the small of Dean’s back. He tries to be quick about this - the last thing he wants is to fucking cry - and grips Cas’ dick in one hand and slowly lowers himself down.
He has to take it slow, already feels so full, and Cas sits up, wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, and pulls them together.
“I’ve got you, Dean. I’ve got you.”
Dean lowers himself a little further, slowly, until Cas' dick is fully inside of him, and Dean lets out a long groan, letting their foreheads rest together. They breathe together, Cas licks his lips, and then kisses him, soft and sweet and at a complete contrast to the burning ahce Dean feels. He’s been waiting for this, wanting this longer than he’s allowed himself to acknowledge. The kiss sedates him a little, lets him relax, and he begins to lift himself up, Cas’ arms still wrapped around him, and sinks back down, almost effortless. He shuts his eyes, lets himself fall into the rhythm and Cas moans below him, hips lifting up to meet Dean halfway.
One hand is wrapped around his waist, and Cas’ other hand comes up to lie against the scar on his upper-arm, the one that fits exactly, and Dean feels all tension ease out of him completely.
“Dean,” Cas groans out, moaning between little stuttering breaths every time Dean sinks down. Dean wraps his arms around Cas’ shoulders, always maintaining the embrace, and tilts his hips a little, and utters out a choked gasp when Cas’ dick changes position, just slightly.
“Cas, right there,” he breathes out, and Cas continues to grip him tight, keep him grounded and tight against him. His breathing begins to quicken, mirroring Cas’ quick breaths, and Cas’ hand snakes down from his shoulder to between their bodies, and wraps lazily around Dean’s dick.
“Oh, fuck,” Dean moans, beginning to lose sense of the rhythm as Cas’ hand works him over, and their lips latch together, hot and sloppy, teeth clinking together and tongues entwining.
Dean’s arms move lower, down past Cas’ waist and onto his ass, pulling them closer, skin against skin. He feels like he’s being unravelled, and Cas begins sucking at his neck, and Dean knows he’s close, needing the relief so much it hurts. With one final suck, which is sure to leave a bruise, Dean feels the orgasm tear through him, like hot-white fire through his bones, and he lets his head fall back, a long, strangled cry falling from his lips. Cas thrusts three more times and then he’s coming, nails digging into Dean’s skin, and they breathe together, rocking through their orgasms, moaning and gasping into each other's mouths.
After a long moment, arms tangled and foreheads pressed together, Dean begins to slowly lift himself off a little, and Cas pulls out, falling back against the bed and bringing Dean down along with him. Cas never breaks the cuddle, and Dean slowly peels the condom off, tying a knot in it and letting it fall off the side on the bed, not caring about it right now. He rests his head on Cas’ chest, lets out a long sigh of contentment, and Cas mirrors it, slowly stroking Dean’s arm.
“I liked that,” Cas says, and Dean huffs out a laugh.
“Liked that? Jesus, Cas. That was some high-quality sex.”
They leave it at that, Cas softly humming in assent under his breath, and they fall asleep together, legs tangled, and Dean warm and safe in Cas’ arms.
***
Sam bursts through the door, balancing two bags of food and three drinks.
He freezes in the doorway and his mouth falls open.
Dean slowly lifts his head up and offers his most innocent smile. “Pie?”
“Uh, dude,” Sam says, eyes wide and unblinking. “I... She reversed the curse hours ago.” He sounds confused and lost and Dean almost forgot what this entire thing was about in the first place.
Dean looks towards Cas, still under the covers, still naked, and mumbles a small, “Oh.”
Sam continues to gape at them, and then breathes out, “Just. Just give me a minute.”
Dean watches cautiously as Sam walks inside the room, plants down the food, and then walks back outside, shutting the door carefully behind him.
Approximately three seconds later, Dean can hear Sam roaring with laughter and the door shake as he leans up against it. Dean falls back against the pillow with a groan.
Sam comes back in, five minutes later, face red from barely-contained laughter and another key in hand.
“I’ll be... I’ll be a few doors down,” he chokes out, grabbing his drink. “You just... enjoy yourselves.”
He walks out the room, grinning to himself, and Dean glares at his back the entire way out. Cas pokes his head up from beneath the covers, blinking sleepily and staring at the door in curiosity.
“Sam seems happy,” he states, and Dean rolls his eyes.
“He would be. The idiot.”
Although this is still going as #1 on Dean’s List of Highest Embarrassments, (which is an embarrassingly long list in itself), he’s thinking he came out on top of this one. He’s got a potential angel-boyfriend, can now go for a piss by himself without crying, and Sam left all the food in his room. He smirks, lies back down, and wraps his arms around Cas’ body. Three wins for Dean Winchester, and none for Sam. Score.