Fallen in all ways possible

Inspired by this, this, and a convo with a mutual.

It had started out as a joke. Sam was sitting on his couch drinking beer—as Dean did his stress cleaning—looking at Dean with his amused bitchface.

“Dude, maybe you ought to clean houses.”

“What’s that, Sammy?” asked Dean, pausing mid-sweep.

“I’m just saying, might as well turn some of your manic energy into cash.”

Dean turned to him with as much grace as he could muster while dumping the contents of his 3-for-1 dust pan into his stainless steel trash can.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with a man taking care in his castle,” said Dean as he surveyed his flannel shirt for errant dust bunnies.

Sam snorted as he took a pull of his beer, and Dean knelt on his haunches to rummage under the sink.

“Dean. ‘Care’ is taking out the garbage or keeping up on the dishes. I’m surprised you haven’t Pledged the floors yet.”

Dean looked at the can of dollar-store “lemon spray” in his hand, before putting it back.

“Yeah, yeah. All right, all right. Shut your trap and let’s get a movie cued up before Charlie and Gilda get here.”

It had been a joke. That was until Bobby had pulled him into his office a few days prior.

“I’m sorry, son,” Bobby said as he poured Dean 2 fingers of rotgut. “You’re my best mechanic, which is why I’m only cutting your hours. I’ve had to let both Cole and Andy go. Business just ain’t what it used to be with these computerized cars and the Jiffy Whatsit Pop that moved in down the street.”

So that’s why Dean and his two friends Jack & Jim were staring at the “Careers!” section of the “Clean Team’s” website. Emboldened by his liquid courage and by his anxiety for rent, Dean finally hit “send” on his application before hitting his bed.

“I know, baby,” Dean soothes, one hand sliding up to cup Cas’ shoulder and trying to slow him down.  "But if you’re gonna build up the stamina to fuck me, you have to hold off for me.  Can you do that?“

Cas lets out a shivery sigh and his hips slow mid thrust.  He’s still close though, Dean can tell.  Cas’ cock twitches where it’s still confined in his underwear, and Dean’s own answers in kind, bare where it’s nudged tight between the side of Cas’ and his pelvis. Neither one of them can go much longer, he knows.  But they’ve been at it for a while, Cas humping him desperately and then Dean slowing him down when he’s right on the edge.

And god, Cas could probably hold out to actually fuck him now, Dean knows. He lasts almost ten minutes now every time.  But, honestly?  Cas has been like a horny teenager since he lost his grace, going through what amounts to human puberty in a rapid fire way Dean’s glad he never had to experience. And Dean fucking loves it.  The way Cas is always so greedy for him.  How quick he loses it.  The training sessions where Cas just rubs against him, Dean edging him until Cas is almost crazy with the need to blow his load.

There’s nothing quite like Cas’ red, sweaty face, hair plastered to his forehed, eyes wild and needy as he huffs and puffs over Dean, hips snapping and rolling sinuously. Dean loves Cas’ rock hard dick butting up against his own through his briefs.  Loves the way he can feel the wet spot as it grows darker and darker over the head of Cas’ cock.

He can remember being a teen and being frustrated by intense grinding, make out sessions like this. But now he loves every second of it. And as much as he is so eager to finally have Cas inside him, stretching him open and brushing over his prostate, he’s not quite ready to give this up.

Turning his head, Dean breathes hot and heavy over the shell of Cas’ ear, twists his own hips slighting, and groans.  Despite the fact that he’s trying to hold back, Cas comes with a gritty whine, his hips stuttering and his body drawing tight and Dean bites back his grin.  So predictable.  So fucking easy.

When Cas goes limp over him Dean is quick to console him, “It’s okay, baby. You tried so hard.  And you lasted a long time.  Didn’t quite make our fifteen minute goal though.”

“Maybe next time,” Cas sighs, but he doesn’t sound too upset about it either and Dean thinks maybe Cas is enjoying this build up as much as he is.  "But I should probably…”

Cas’ words trail off as his body shifts and his mouth starts its downward trek over Dean’s body.  Oh yeah.  That.  Dean bites his lip and lets his eyes fall closed as Cas’ hot mouth sucks at his left hip bone.  Yeah, it really doesn’t hurt that this always ends with Cas’ plush mouth sealed over his cock.

“will the owner of the 67’ chevy impala please fuck me?”

and dean totally hears it from where he’s innocently picking up his orange juice and he doesn’t get to properly meet cas ofc but he sure does give hannah his number just in case her friend is still interested once he sobers up

like, doing it IN a confessional booth?

Are we talking AU or on a case or something? Canon works better, I think.

So, like, they’re on a case - SEPARATELY - and Cas of course gets to town first, and the brothers get there later and Cas posing as a priest and Dean sees him and Sam has to hit him because he’s staring at Cas in a priest costume and just getting IDEAS from that. And So of course Dean has to fuck with him.

Pops in and Cas is shocked to hear “Forgive me father for I have sinned it’s been…a really fucking long time since my last confession.” 

Cas holds back a sigh, “And what sins have you committed since then?”

“Well, had a weird bit with God’s sister, some weirder shit with the devil, but got that handled. Uh…murder. Drinking. Stealing. Fornication. So much fornication…”

Castiel fails at control and that long, annoyed sigh escapes. But he can’t see Dean’s grin falter and fall on the other side of the screen. “Impure thoughts. About leading friends into sin.”

“What sort of sin?”

“You heard the fornication part, right?”

“You wish to…corrupt your…friends?”

“Well, one actually. He’d never really go for it, cause he’s way too good for me. For anyone but…I get to thinking sometimes, about what we could do, or what we could have if i wasn’t such a chicken shit. Hell, last time I was in a confessional he ws all I could think about…the feeling I have for him that I’m just too afraid to touch but…”

“You shouldn’t be afraid, he might…welcome your feelings.” Cas’s voice is tight and scared.

“he should tell me to fuck off, if he knows what’s good for him. I’ll only get him killed. Again.”

“Maybe you’re worth dying for, to him. And maybe he hopes you’ll…lead him into sin.”

“Well, if that was case, I should probably confess I brought lube into a confessional booth.”

But you know what I miss?

I want soulmate!AU that will meet in a stupid car accident and swear like sailors at each other about the paint job. I want doctors that will meet them as patients in their emergency waiting room only to find them juring at their broken foot. I want people that will meet completely smashed in a club and for their first thought to be filthy as all hell. I want soulmates that will meet on the internet and their first comment will be to congratulate the other about a particularly hot smut piece they wrote.

Now, I want you to imagine all these people as little children.

And I want you to imagine being their parents. 

Trying to protect your kid from them for as long as possible because “omg John no the first words my son will learn to read will not be ‘I want to eat his ass’!!” and “This is not even anatomically possible!”

I want you to imagine them trying to explain to biggot aunt Marth at thanksgiving why your precious bundle of joy has a beautifully described page 43 of the gay kamasutra detailled on his little arm.

I want you to imagine them going at the first kindergarden parents-teachers reunion and try not to cringe under the judgmental look of the teacher.

I want you to imagine the hospital giving all new parents a personalized plush bear with their baby’s phrase engraved in the heart between his paw, and i want you to imagine the look on that nurse face when he has to come into the room with the bear.

And then, years later, I want you to imagine the parents meeting their kid’s soulmate. Looking at them straight in the eyes and knowing. Knowing, like they’ve known for years, what this person has wanted to do to their precious kid in excruciating details.

I want you to imagine the first dinner.