You Wanna Take My Picture
Title: You Wanna Take My Picture; Let Me Take Your Picture
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Graphic sex?
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Castiel meets a young beautiful man at a photo shoot.
Notes: Originally posted at Dean Castiel X-mas for aesc
Castiel Angeoford had seen his share of good-looking people, as he’d been taking pictures of them for as long as he could heft a camera. He’d shot for magazines he had galleries take his work, people hoping that he would shoot them- and he wasn’t even thirty five yet.
He had a big loft, plenty of money, and he got to do what he loved. He was a very fortunate man, much more so than his usual subjects.
He’d seen the models come and go, some good, some great, and a few that were stars for his camera. He immortalized them in his photos, left them forever young and stunning in glossy magazines and on art gallery walls. He wasn’t impressed by them on a personal level anymore, and when they tried to approach him, he kept them at arms’ length. Models were to be posed and directed. Not touched. Never touched.
That day he was shooting for Uriel Dismanchi, a hot up and coming designer; the shoot itself was a little avant-garde, a rooftop garden that was now overgrown with dead trees and crystals. Castiel didn’t really care what the shoot was for; he just wanted to get started. They needed the shots during twilight; nighttime would have been interesting, but it’d be a huge pain in the ass to do, and that meant more money spent and the models standing around while they adjusted. There was a flutter by the makeup tent; finally, the models were ready. Models could be such divas. The first of them was a young man, (well, of course he was young, whoever heard of an old model) with typical good looks, but very piercing eyes. Castiel had met him once before; his name was Raphael. Castiel thought the outfit he was wearing bordered on costume, but the skeletal jacket and dark streaked denim suited the man anyway. The female model was thin to the point of being ill, but she was very pretty, and you had to be extremely thin to pull off the pale grey gossamer dress she was wearing; a woman with anything resembling significant breasts or hips would have made the shoot too close to pornography. But Castiel forgot about her, and Raphael, because of who came out after them.
The boy couldn’t be more than sixteen, with green eyes, dark bronze eyeliner curled around them. He had beautiful cheekbones and plush lips parted in a sigh. He was wrapped in dark jeans and a silk shirt with a ridiculous vampire collar; Uriel really wanted to appeal to the ‘night darkness vampire’ mentality. But Castiel was lost in those green eyes; he wanted to kiss those plush lips bruised and flush up those cheeks. He wanted to learn the scent of his hair, the feel of his skin.
The boy met Castiel’s eyes, and smirked, jutting his hip at him. That smirk, the arrogance, and the raw sensuality irritated Castiel as much as it intrigued him, and he got up out of his chair. “Now that the models have deigned to be ready, I want to get started. Raphael, take-” He gestured at the young woman.
“I’m Rachel.”
“Take Rachel, get against the railing, and hold her against you. You,” he gestured at Too-Pretty-For-His-Own-Good, “sit on the bench in front of them.” Raphael held the girl against his hip, turned outwards to show off the clothes, and they looked pretty damn good, but it was the boy, lower lip ever so slightly pushed out, one leg up to his chest while the other dangled off the bench that made Castiel’s dick twitch with interest. Damn. It wasn’t kosher to be lusting so transparently over a model. Castiel lowered the camera.
“You-”
“It’s Dean,” said the boy, looking bored.
“Look at them, but I still need your face.” Castiel waited as Dean turned to his side, and almost shuddered. Dean was looking at the couple with a hunger so apparent and sensual it flowed over the set like humidity. One of the lighting guys almost broke his neck as he turned to look and tripped over a wire. Castiel swallowed, trying to moisten his mouth and throat enough to talk. “Turn a little, Dean. I can’t see enough of you.” Dean turned as if it burned him to look away, and Castiel wanted to devour that mouth, let the boy’s hands run all over him, turn him over and fuck those smirking lips into a parted O.
Instead he caught the boy and the others on film, Dean’s longing and need lingering over the passion of the pair behind him. Click. Click. Click. Dean leaned up from the bench and stole a kiss from the girl, then, to everyone’s shock, the man as well. Click click click click. Castiel knew the pictures with gay kissing wouldn't be published, but he certainly wasn't getting rid of them.
He had Dean swap places with both of the older models. The girl looked like she wanted to eat Dean up, her hands wrapped around his waist as she nuzzled him. Click. Click. While Dean’s shot with Raphael was a little more orthodox, the hand resting on Dean’s back was a little low for male camaraderie. Click click click.
Then it was time for solo shots, and Castiel went through Raphael’s and Rachel’s without a hitch. They were pretty and the shots were just weird enough and that was fine. But when Dean lounged again the railing, licking his lips, Castiel almost forgot to press the button, and the same lighting guy dropped a bulb. Everyone jumped, except for Dean, who just smiled a little, and it was more of him than Castiel had seen all evening, so he took a few shots for himself.
When Castiel ended the shoot, everyone began talking as they put away equipment, marveled over the shots, and admired Castiel. Uriel’s rep made sure Castiel was going to put in an appearance at Vogue’s party later that evening, and then bustled off, talking a mile a minute in an extremely vapid way on their cell phone. Once they were gone, Castiel turned his camera back on, looking for the picture of Dean's untouched smile. The setting sun showed off what appeared to be freckles, and something thudded against Castiel's ribcage. He turned the camera off and was putting it away when Dean made his way over. He was smiling and unashamedly resting a hand on Castiel’s arm. “You’re going to Vogue’s party tonight. You need a date.” Neither of those phrases were a question, so Castiel didn’t answer. “Preferably one who’ll have sex with you afterward?” Castiel didn't have to answer that either.
Castiel met Dean outside his apartment building. Dean was wrapped in Versace head to toe, in a somewhat more casual contrast to Castiel’s two button micro striped Armani suit. “You look good,” Castiel admitted, and Dean smiled in a way that made Castiel throb in a few places.
“I thought so too.” And there was that damn smirk again, which still made Castiel want to punch the boy and devour him all at once. But all he said was, “The car’s here.” Dean slid in first, leaving Castiel to instruct the driver as he got in himself. Despite the roomy backseat, Dean had his leg pressed against Castiel’s when the latter got in. Castiel splayed his hand over Dean’s thigh; Dean shifted closer. “Did you like the shoot?”
“Yeah. You’re a great photographer,” said Dean. “Can I blow you?” Castiel took pride in the fact that all he did in response to that question was to raise an eyebrow.
“Subtle you are not.” Dean just shrugged, and looked at Castiel’s groin with shameless want and reached over; Castiel gently pushed his hand away. “I’m not getting semen all over an Armani suit.”
“You need to loosen up.”
“You can suck me off later.”
“Promise?” Castiel looked into those eager eyes and glanced at the plush mouth; he nodded before kissing Dean hard on the mouth.
“Castiel, how’re you doing,” Meg almost purred as she came over, already with a drink in hand and two in her bloodstream, by the look of her. “And who’s this pretty thing?”
“Dean, Meg. Meg, Dean.” Castiel loathed the mocking young woman, but she worked for Vogue, and therefore Castiel wanted her to tolerate him. However, he didn't like the way she was looking at Dean like a piece of meat. “Where’d you find him, Castiel?”
“We met on a shoot,” Dean interjected, looping his arm through Castiel’s. “He just couldn’t resist me.” Meg smirked at Castiel; Castiel left his face blank until Dean squeezed his butt as he seized two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. Meg’s smirk deepened as she wandered off into the party, probably to catch up to the waiter with the champagne. Castiel handed Dean one of the champagne glasses. “I couldn’t resist you?”
“You wanted to eat me up the second you saw me.”
“Oh. And how do you know that?”
Dean touched the rim of his glass to his lips. “You fucked me with your eyes.”
“…so?”
“So you didn’t try to hide it. I liked that.” Dean offered a smile and vanished after Meg, leaving Castiel to wander without him. He spotted Uriel Dismanchi, who caught his eye and wandered over to talk shop.
“Castiel Angeoford,” the large black man said, raising his glass. “The man who makes my work even more dazzling.”
“Hello Uriel."
"You look good tonight.” Uriel leaned into Castiel’s space, making Castiel shiver a little. The man had expressed an attraction to Castiel, but there was something off putting about him, something that wormed under Castiel's skin. “I saw that pretty thing you came in with.” Uriel gestured at Dean, who was now immersed in a gaggle of female models. “Am I right in thinking that you’re planning to tap that?”
“Unless he has something to say against it.”
“He’s very pretty. You mind sharing?”
Castiel frowned. “I do, actually.” There was no way in hell he was letting Uriel put his huge hands all over Dean; it'd be like handing a puppy over to a lion. He caught Dean’s eye, and Dean waved at him. The models all giggled and waved too. “Every one of those girls would sleep with you to have you take their pictures.”
“And every one of those girls would kill to wear one of your gowns. What’s your point?”
“The only one you have eyes for is him.” Castiel couldn’t argue about that; he was aching for the end of this party, to pull Dean out of the group of girls and touch him all over. Since he couldn't leave just yet, he settled for abandoning Uriel and pulling Dean out of the group of girls. "What?"
"...I want to dance." He actually didn't, but the girls were a little too hands-on for his taste, so he led Dean to the dance floor and pulled him close. Luckily, the song was slow, so all Castiel had to do was rotate Dean around and shuffle his feet. "You've got the most amazing eyes," said Dean, matter of fact. "I was thinking about you looking at me, through the camera. I got hard, I thought you'd see."
"I didn't." If he had noticed, he would have taken Dean there in front of everyone, made him come and taken photos of him in the aftermath. "But you did really good work, you know. You were making people shake." Dean sort of shrugged and leaned against Castiel until the song ended, and then he vanished into the crowd.
Two hours later, Castiel had put in enough of an appearance, and he sauntered over to where Dean was chatting with a young woman who was wearing what appeared to be draped black dental floss and a satin thong.
“Let’s go.”
“But-”
Castiel pressed his lips to Dean’s ear. “Come with me, now, or I’ll leave you here without so as much as a kiss to tide you over.” Dean followed Castiel like an obedient puppy into the waiting car, and sat quietly until they were on their way, hidden behind the dark partition and the lights of other cars. Then he pounced like a cat, kissing Castiel hard. Castiel heard himself growl and push back, kissing Dean into the leather seat. Dean pushed a hand into Castiel’s hair; he tasted like smoke and some fruity drink he’d probably stolen from a girl and he was hot and wet and Castiel was going to fuck him so hard he’d walk bow legged for his next job. Dean backed out of the kiss, leaving just enough space to breathe between them. “Fuck you can kiss,” he whispered. Castiel chuckled and kissed him again, letting Dean push up his hips and explore with his hands, sucking a little on Dean’s tongue until they both needed to breathe.
“I wanted to kiss you the moment I saw you,” Castiel confessed. “You’re so beautiful.” Dean, to his surprise, smiled shyly and wrapped his arms around his neck.
“Let me suck you,” Dean pleaded.
“You’re eager,” said Castiel. “But go ahead.” Dean grinned at him, and wiggled to the floor of the car, heedless of his trousers, and unzipping Castiel to pull out his cock.
“It’s nice,” said Dean, giving it a lick and swirling his tongue around the head. Castiel could feel himself stiffening.
“You going to admire it or suck-ohfuck.” Dean had tongued the ridges under the head of his dick, while sucking hard, and Castiel felt lust and a tightness in his stomach shiver over his body as Dean’s plush lips swallowed him down. “Oh God,” Castiel groaned, stroking Dean’s wet, stretched out mouth with a finger. Dean moaned, sending a vibration against Castiel’s cock that made him grab at his seat, nails digging into the leather. “Fuck, oh oh, Dean you’ve got such a good mouth, yes, tongue me like that, please.” Dean glanced up to meet his eyes before dragging his tongue against the bottom of his dick. “Damn you and that mouth.” Castiel bucked into Dean’s mouth, and Dean groaned again; Castiel spurted a little into his throat and swore as he saw his building coming up. “Dean, we’re almost there. Stop.” Dean ignored him, so Castiel gave him a little push. “Stop, I’m not close enough-oh fuck-to come before we get there.” Dean suckled sweetly, smiling with his eyes, and Castiel hissed. “Fucking stop, Dean, I can’t get out.” Dean finally pulled off, and Castiel managed to get himself tucked away before the door was opened. Dean was still on the floor, however, so he was still metaphorically exposed. The doorman didn’t blink twice, and Castiel pressed a few bills into his hand for the discretion as he pulled his coat down over the tent in his pants.
Castiel started to pull off Dean’s clothes as they backed into his hotel room, kissing and pushing him back until Dean was naked in his bedroom. “No romance?” Dean said, smirking at him.
“You pushed me past romance with that mouth of yours,” said Castiel, and got Dean down on his back on the bed. “How do you want this?” Castiel started to strip, letting Dean watch him. Dean licked his lips.
“I wanna be on top.” Castiel dropped his pants, exposing his cock to Dean again. Dean grinned, nonchalantly playing with his own dick. Castiel reached into the night table, leaving a condom and lube on the bed. He kissed Dean again as he climbed on top of him, as he spread lube on his fingers and eased two inside Dean, who hissed but rocked back on the fingers, moaning. “You like getting fucked, huh?” Castiel brushed his fingers against Dean’s prostate, and Dean made a noise that, in another context, Castiel would have been concerned to hear. “Come on, don’t tease me, do it!” Castiel smiled and kissed Dean on the neck.
“You want it?” Dean groaned, and Castiel gave in. He got on his back; Dean straddled him, letting Castiel push his hips up so that he could slide down. Castiel thought his eyes were going to roll back into his head; Dean purred and began practically bouncing on Castiel’s dick. That felt too good. Castiel grabbed his hips to control him, but Dean just rocked harder. Cas struggled to sit up a little. “Dean, stop it, you’re gonna bring me off-”
“What’s the matter, can’t-” Dean panted as he wrapped his arms around Castiel’s shoulders, “take it? Too much for you?” Castiel pushed him down onto his back, grabbing Dean’s leg and holding it up as he slammed in. “Fuck,” Dean swore, his cock bobbing against his stomach. “Do that again.” Castiel snapped his hips again; Dean started to grab at the sheets as Castiel went in and out. “Shit,” Dean whispered,
“Harder.” Castiel complied, smiling and pumping his hips at a pace that made Dean start making sweet little gasping noises. “Fuck, fuck, yes, do it, come on!”
“So tight,” Castiel growled. “You’d think it’d be looser.”
“Bitch,” Dean snapped. “Oh fuck -” As the bed shook and Dean cried out as Castiel fucked him, the photographer felt slightly freer.
When Castiel woke up, Dean was gone, but there was a note scrawled on a crumpled napkin, next to Dean’s tie. Castiel, I’ve got a job, had to run. Thanks for last night, let’s do it again sometime. Castiel almost threw it away, but as he looked at the note, he tucked it away in the night table drawer. He’d see Dean again, surely. Dean had to come back for his tie.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Graphic sex?
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Castiel meets a young beautiful man at a photo shoot.
Notes: Originally posted at Dean Castiel X-mas for aesc
Castiel Angeoford had seen his share of good-looking people, as he’d been taking pictures of them for as long as he could heft a camera. He’d shot for magazines he had galleries take his work, people hoping that he would shoot them- and he wasn’t even thirty five yet.
He had a big loft, plenty of money, and he got to do what he loved. He was a very fortunate man, much more so than his usual subjects.
He’d seen the models come and go, some good, some great, and a few that were stars for his camera. He immortalized them in his photos, left them forever young and stunning in glossy magazines and on art gallery walls. He wasn’t impressed by them on a personal level anymore, and when they tried to approach him, he kept them at arms’ length. Models were to be posed and directed. Not touched. Never touched.
That day he was shooting for Uriel Dismanchi, a hot up and coming designer; the shoot itself was a little avant-garde, a rooftop garden that was now overgrown with dead trees and crystals. Castiel didn’t really care what the shoot was for; he just wanted to get started. They needed the shots during twilight; nighttime would have been interesting, but it’d be a huge pain in the ass to do, and that meant more money spent and the models standing around while they adjusted. There was a flutter by the makeup tent; finally, the models were ready. Models could be such divas. The first of them was a young man, (well, of course he was young, whoever heard of an old model) with typical good looks, but very piercing eyes. Castiel had met him once before; his name was Raphael. Castiel thought the outfit he was wearing bordered on costume, but the skeletal jacket and dark streaked denim suited the man anyway. The female model was thin to the point of being ill, but she was very pretty, and you had to be extremely thin to pull off the pale grey gossamer dress she was wearing; a woman with anything resembling significant breasts or hips would have made the shoot too close to pornography. But Castiel forgot about her, and Raphael, because of who came out after them.
The boy couldn’t be more than sixteen, with green eyes, dark bronze eyeliner curled around them. He had beautiful cheekbones and plush lips parted in a sigh. He was wrapped in dark jeans and a silk shirt with a ridiculous vampire collar; Uriel really wanted to appeal to the ‘night darkness vampire’ mentality. But Castiel was lost in those green eyes; he wanted to kiss those plush lips bruised and flush up those cheeks. He wanted to learn the scent of his hair, the feel of his skin.
The boy met Castiel’s eyes, and smirked, jutting his hip at him. That smirk, the arrogance, and the raw sensuality irritated Castiel as much as it intrigued him, and he got up out of his chair. “Now that the models have deigned to be ready, I want to get started. Raphael, take-” He gestured at the young woman.
“I’m Rachel.”
“Take Rachel, get against the railing, and hold her against you. You,” he gestured at Too-Pretty-For-His-Own-Good, “sit on the bench in front of them.” Raphael held the girl against his hip, turned outwards to show off the clothes, and they looked pretty damn good, but it was the boy, lower lip ever so slightly pushed out, one leg up to his chest while the other dangled off the bench that made Castiel’s dick twitch with interest. Damn. It wasn’t kosher to be lusting so transparently over a model. Castiel lowered the camera.
“You-”
“It’s Dean,” said the boy, looking bored.
“Look at them, but I still need your face.” Castiel waited as Dean turned to his side, and almost shuddered. Dean was looking at the couple with a hunger so apparent and sensual it flowed over the set like humidity. One of the lighting guys almost broke his neck as he turned to look and tripped over a wire. Castiel swallowed, trying to moisten his mouth and throat enough to talk. “Turn a little, Dean. I can’t see enough of you.” Dean turned as if it burned him to look away, and Castiel wanted to devour that mouth, let the boy’s hands run all over him, turn him over and fuck those smirking lips into a parted O.
Instead he caught the boy and the others on film, Dean’s longing and need lingering over the passion of the pair behind him. Click. Click. Click. Dean leaned up from the bench and stole a kiss from the girl, then, to everyone’s shock, the man as well. Click click click click. Castiel knew the pictures with gay kissing wouldn't be published, but he certainly wasn't getting rid of them.
He had Dean swap places with both of the older models. The girl looked like she wanted to eat Dean up, her hands wrapped around his waist as she nuzzled him. Click. Click. While Dean’s shot with Raphael was a little more orthodox, the hand resting on Dean’s back was a little low for male camaraderie. Click click click.
Then it was time for solo shots, and Castiel went through Raphael’s and Rachel’s without a hitch. They were pretty and the shots were just weird enough and that was fine. But when Dean lounged again the railing, licking his lips, Castiel almost forgot to press the button, and the same lighting guy dropped a bulb. Everyone jumped, except for Dean, who just smiled a little, and it was more of him than Castiel had seen all evening, so he took a few shots for himself.
When Castiel ended the shoot, everyone began talking as they put away equipment, marveled over the shots, and admired Castiel. Uriel’s rep made sure Castiel was going to put in an appearance at Vogue’s party later that evening, and then bustled off, talking a mile a minute in an extremely vapid way on their cell phone. Once they were gone, Castiel turned his camera back on, looking for the picture of Dean's untouched smile. The setting sun showed off what appeared to be freckles, and something thudded against Castiel's ribcage. He turned the camera off and was putting it away when Dean made his way over. He was smiling and unashamedly resting a hand on Castiel’s arm. “You’re going to Vogue’s party tonight. You need a date.” Neither of those phrases were a question, so Castiel didn’t answer. “Preferably one who’ll have sex with you afterward?” Castiel didn't have to answer that either.
Castiel met Dean outside his apartment building. Dean was wrapped in Versace head to toe, in a somewhat more casual contrast to Castiel’s two button micro striped Armani suit. “You look good,” Castiel admitted, and Dean smiled in a way that made Castiel throb in a few places.
“I thought so too.” And there was that damn smirk again, which still made Castiel want to punch the boy and devour him all at once. But all he said was, “The car’s here.” Dean slid in first, leaving Castiel to instruct the driver as he got in himself. Despite the roomy backseat, Dean had his leg pressed against Castiel’s when the latter got in. Castiel splayed his hand over Dean’s thigh; Dean shifted closer. “Did you like the shoot?”
“Yeah. You’re a great photographer,” said Dean. “Can I blow you?” Castiel took pride in the fact that all he did in response to that question was to raise an eyebrow.
“Subtle you are not.” Dean just shrugged, and looked at Castiel’s groin with shameless want and reached over; Castiel gently pushed his hand away. “I’m not getting semen all over an Armani suit.”
“You need to loosen up.”
“You can suck me off later.”
“Promise?” Castiel looked into those eager eyes and glanced at the plush mouth; he nodded before kissing Dean hard on the mouth.
“Castiel, how’re you doing,” Meg almost purred as she came over, already with a drink in hand and two in her bloodstream, by the look of her. “And who’s this pretty thing?”
“Dean, Meg. Meg, Dean.” Castiel loathed the mocking young woman, but she worked for Vogue, and therefore Castiel wanted her to tolerate him. However, he didn't like the way she was looking at Dean like a piece of meat. “Where’d you find him, Castiel?”
“We met on a shoot,” Dean interjected, looping his arm through Castiel’s. “He just couldn’t resist me.” Meg smirked at Castiel; Castiel left his face blank until Dean squeezed his butt as he seized two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. Meg’s smirk deepened as she wandered off into the party, probably to catch up to the waiter with the champagne. Castiel handed Dean one of the champagne glasses. “I couldn’t resist you?”
“You wanted to eat me up the second you saw me.”
“Oh. And how do you know that?”
Dean touched the rim of his glass to his lips. “You fucked me with your eyes.”
“…so?”
“So you didn’t try to hide it. I liked that.” Dean offered a smile and vanished after Meg, leaving Castiel to wander without him. He spotted Uriel Dismanchi, who caught his eye and wandered over to talk shop.
“Castiel Angeoford,” the large black man said, raising his glass. “The man who makes my work even more dazzling.”
“Hello Uriel."
"You look good tonight.” Uriel leaned into Castiel’s space, making Castiel shiver a little. The man had expressed an attraction to Castiel, but there was something off putting about him, something that wormed under Castiel's skin. “I saw that pretty thing you came in with.” Uriel gestured at Dean, who was now immersed in a gaggle of female models. “Am I right in thinking that you’re planning to tap that?”
“Unless he has something to say against it.”
“He’s very pretty. You mind sharing?”
Castiel frowned. “I do, actually.” There was no way in hell he was letting Uriel put his huge hands all over Dean; it'd be like handing a puppy over to a lion. He caught Dean’s eye, and Dean waved at him. The models all giggled and waved too. “Every one of those girls would sleep with you to have you take their pictures.”
“And every one of those girls would kill to wear one of your gowns. What’s your point?”
“The only one you have eyes for is him.” Castiel couldn’t argue about that; he was aching for the end of this party, to pull Dean out of the group of girls and touch him all over. Since he couldn't leave just yet, he settled for abandoning Uriel and pulling Dean out of the group of girls. "What?"
"...I want to dance." He actually didn't, but the girls were a little too hands-on for his taste, so he led Dean to the dance floor and pulled him close. Luckily, the song was slow, so all Castiel had to do was rotate Dean around and shuffle his feet. "You've got the most amazing eyes," said Dean, matter of fact. "I was thinking about you looking at me, through the camera. I got hard, I thought you'd see."
"I didn't." If he had noticed, he would have taken Dean there in front of everyone, made him come and taken photos of him in the aftermath. "But you did really good work, you know. You were making people shake." Dean sort of shrugged and leaned against Castiel until the song ended, and then he vanished into the crowd.
Two hours later, Castiel had put in enough of an appearance, and he sauntered over to where Dean was chatting with a young woman who was wearing what appeared to be draped black dental floss and a satin thong.
“Let’s go.”
“But-”
Castiel pressed his lips to Dean’s ear. “Come with me, now, or I’ll leave you here without so as much as a kiss to tide you over.” Dean followed Castiel like an obedient puppy into the waiting car, and sat quietly until they were on their way, hidden behind the dark partition and the lights of other cars. Then he pounced like a cat, kissing Castiel hard. Castiel heard himself growl and push back, kissing Dean into the leather seat. Dean pushed a hand into Castiel’s hair; he tasted like smoke and some fruity drink he’d probably stolen from a girl and he was hot and wet and Castiel was going to fuck him so hard he’d walk bow legged for his next job. Dean backed out of the kiss, leaving just enough space to breathe between them. “Fuck you can kiss,” he whispered. Castiel chuckled and kissed him again, letting Dean push up his hips and explore with his hands, sucking a little on Dean’s tongue until they both needed to breathe.
“I wanted to kiss you the moment I saw you,” Castiel confessed. “You’re so beautiful.” Dean, to his surprise, smiled shyly and wrapped his arms around his neck.
“Let me suck you,” Dean pleaded.
“You’re eager,” said Castiel. “But go ahead.” Dean grinned at him, and wiggled to the floor of the car, heedless of his trousers, and unzipping Castiel to pull out his cock.
“It’s nice,” said Dean, giving it a lick and swirling his tongue around the head. Castiel could feel himself stiffening.
“You going to admire it or suck-ohfuck.” Dean had tongued the ridges under the head of his dick, while sucking hard, and Castiel felt lust and a tightness in his stomach shiver over his body as Dean’s plush lips swallowed him down. “Oh God,” Castiel groaned, stroking Dean’s wet, stretched out mouth with a finger. Dean moaned, sending a vibration against Castiel’s cock that made him grab at his seat, nails digging into the leather. “Fuck, oh oh, Dean you’ve got such a good mouth, yes, tongue me like that, please.” Dean glanced up to meet his eyes before dragging his tongue against the bottom of his dick. “Damn you and that mouth.” Castiel bucked into Dean’s mouth, and Dean groaned again; Castiel spurted a little into his throat and swore as he saw his building coming up. “Dean, we’re almost there. Stop.” Dean ignored him, so Castiel gave him a little push. “Stop, I’m not close enough-oh fuck-to come before we get there.” Dean suckled sweetly, smiling with his eyes, and Castiel hissed. “Fucking stop, Dean, I can’t get out.” Dean finally pulled off, and Castiel managed to get himself tucked away before the door was opened. Dean was still on the floor, however, so he was still metaphorically exposed. The doorman didn’t blink twice, and Castiel pressed a few bills into his hand for the discretion as he pulled his coat down over the tent in his pants.
Castiel started to pull off Dean’s clothes as they backed into his hotel room, kissing and pushing him back until Dean was naked in his bedroom. “No romance?” Dean said, smirking at him.
“You pushed me past romance with that mouth of yours,” said Castiel, and got Dean down on his back on the bed. “How do you want this?” Castiel started to strip, letting Dean watch him. Dean licked his lips.
“I wanna be on top.” Castiel dropped his pants, exposing his cock to Dean again. Dean grinned, nonchalantly playing with his own dick. Castiel reached into the night table, leaving a condom and lube on the bed. He kissed Dean again as he climbed on top of him, as he spread lube on his fingers and eased two inside Dean, who hissed but rocked back on the fingers, moaning. “You like getting fucked, huh?” Castiel brushed his fingers against Dean’s prostate, and Dean made a noise that, in another context, Castiel would have been concerned to hear. “Come on, don’t tease me, do it!” Castiel smiled and kissed Dean on the neck.
“You want it?” Dean groaned, and Castiel gave in. He got on his back; Dean straddled him, letting Castiel push his hips up so that he could slide down. Castiel thought his eyes were going to roll back into his head; Dean purred and began practically bouncing on Castiel’s dick. That felt too good. Castiel grabbed his hips to control him, but Dean just rocked harder. Cas struggled to sit up a little. “Dean, stop it, you’re gonna bring me off-”
“What’s the matter, can’t-” Dean panted as he wrapped his arms around Castiel’s shoulders, “take it? Too much for you?” Castiel pushed him down onto his back, grabbing Dean’s leg and holding it up as he slammed in. “Fuck,” Dean swore, his cock bobbing against his stomach. “Do that again.” Castiel snapped his hips again; Dean started to grab at the sheets as Castiel went in and out. “Shit,” Dean whispered,
“Harder.” Castiel complied, smiling and pumping his hips at a pace that made Dean start making sweet little gasping noises. “Fuck, fuck, yes, do it, come on!”
“So tight,” Castiel growled. “You’d think it’d be looser.”
“Bitch,” Dean snapped. “Oh fuck -” As the bed shook and Dean cried out as Castiel fucked him, the photographer felt slightly freer.
When Castiel woke up, Dean was gone, but there was a note scrawled on a crumpled napkin, next to Dean’s tie. Castiel, I’ve got a job, had to run. Thanks for last night, let’s do it again sometime. Castiel almost threw it away, but as he looked at the note, he tucked it away in the night table drawer. He’d see Dean again, surely. Dean had to come back for his tie.