#teamfreesmiling

Until something catches his eye.

A blog where a woman does nothing more than model panties. Which is pretty tame compared to what he saw just a few clicks before on the site. It’s all classy with very expensive looking panties that her followers apparently send her. And she appears to have a lot of followers.

Dean feels a twinge of envy, which is ridiculous. He has his own panties. Granted most are just from Victoria’s Secret or Frederick’s of Hollywood, though. He can’t afford to spend $200 on a pair of friggin’ underwear when he’s got grown up household shit that needs to be taken care of first.

Plus, it’s not like Dean has anyone to enjoy the gold priced panties with, even if he was to buy them.

Hell, the last person who’d seen the ones he has, was Aaron Bass and he’d been too damned stoned to do more than rub the satin material that covered Dean’s ass and tell him how soft they felt.

And thanks to the load of new accounts at work, that’s been nearly a year ago.

“Fuck it.”

Dean jumps up to rummage through to the very back of his underwear drawer where he keeps his panties and begins pulling some out and setting them on the bed.

The Pink lacy mesh ones that make his ass look fantastic.

A black satin high-waisted lace up, zippered pair that are raunchy as hell, but also hides the slight pudge that Dean may be a little self-conscious about.

He grabs a few others then shakily sits down to sign up for his own blog.

By the time Dean’s done, all previous nerves are long forgotten and he’s got a dozen different pictures of himself showing off his favorite panties posted and it’s 2 a.m.

“Shit. Fuck.”

He’s got a big meeting with the CEO of Singer Auto in the morning to update Mr. Singer on their project and the last thing he needs is to explain to his boss that the reason he’s so exhausted is because he’d been up all night posting panty pictures to the internet.

Yeah, Victor would not be amused. At all.

Dean closes the site and doesn’t think about it again until 10:30 a.m. when he, his project manager, the other project engineers, his boss and Mr. Singer are sitting in the Henriksen Engineering boardroom finishing up the meeting.

That’s when his phone’s notification chime begins blowing up.

"Excuse me. I’m sorry.” Dean apologizes, pulling his phone out of his pocket as Victor gives him a discrete but still deadly look.

As he’s silencing the phone Dean notices that the influx of activity is all messages from Tumblr. Quickly putting the device away he tries to get his head back into the meeting even as his heart continues to race with illicit excitement.

*****

When Dean gets home he rushes right to his bedroom, opening his laptop the minute the door closes behind him. 

And fuck there’s so many comments and messages.

There’s more than a few variation of the typically vulgar, ‘Hey baby why don’t you bend over and let me stick my tongue up that naughty ass.’

But those are thankfully outweighed by the less disgusting comments about how pretty his panties are, how cute his ass is and the one commenter who mentions liking the Millennium Falcon tattoo on Dean’s hip. 

Which...shit.

Dean probably should have thought about that before. His face isn’t in any of the photos, but the giant drunk tattoo he got with Charlie at Comic Con a few years ago, sure as hell is.

No, he’s fine.

It’s not like anyone from work knows he has a tattoo, much less one in such an intimate spot.

So worst case scenario, Charlie somehow stumbles upon the blog and teases him mercilessly about it. At which point he’ll just remind her of the Orion Slave Girl from last year’s Comic Con and there’ll be no more of that.

He’s just finishing up sifting through the messages and offers to send him panties when there’s a knock on the door then Sam’s shaggy haired head pops into his room.

“Hey, you want pizza for dinner? They were giving out coupons on campus today for buy one get one free.” Sam asks while waving the bright green flyer in Dean’s direction.

“Sweet. Just make sure one of them has all the meat on it.” Dean demands as Sam rolls his eyes. “I got a bit more work and then I’ll be out.”

“Alright.” Sam shuts the door and Dean goes back to his blog.

There’s 12 people wanting to send things. He doesn’t know if they really will but the thought is awesome enough to try anyway.

*****

The next morning Dean hurries into the post office closest to work and sets up a P.O. Box, that later, once he’s home, he adds the address of, along with his panty size to his blog.

*****

Dean doesn’t mean to forget to check the P.O. Box, but their new client, Roman Industries is a handful and their CEO, Dick Roman, is well...a huge dick.

It’s a week after he first opened the box that he gets a voicemail from the post office that he needs to stop by at his earliest convenience.

For once Dean actually takes a lunch break and heads to the post office where he’s met at the counter by a tall, skinny, smiling dude who’s name tag reads: Garth.

“Hey! How can I help you today?” Garth’s a little too chipper to be working for the USPS, but whatever floats his boat.

“Yeah, Dean Winchester? Got a call that I needed to come by as soon as possible. Everything cool?” Dean glances at his watch as Garth starts typing into the computer.

“Oh.” Garth’s eyes go round and Dean wonders if maybe it’s not too late to just walk out and not look back.

“You may need to upgrade your box, Mr. Winchester. You’ve got too much traffic this week, for that little space.” Garth continues.

Before Dean can ask him what the hell he’s talking about Garth’s gone behind the partition.

The line of other office worker’s trying not to waste their whole lunch hour behind Dean are getting restless by the time Garth finally comes back with a stack of probably 20 boxes.

“Holy shit.” Dean hadn’t expected even a fourth of these.

“Yeah, we can get you a bigger box for only $50 more a month. Shouldn’t be a problem holding of this.” Garth offers and Dean just nods then pays for the extra space and scoops up all the boxes.

“Have a good day, Mr. Winchester! Enjoy your purchases!” Garth shouts as Dean hurries out the door and toward the parking garage where he can stash all of the boxes in his trunk before someone sees him.

*****

From that moment on Dean becomes Mechanical Engineer by day and Tumblr Panty Model by night.

And instead of it being stressful, it has the exact opposite effect. It destresses him in a way he never thought possible.

To the point that Victor comes into Dean’s office one afternoon and congratulates him on not losing his cool when Dick Roman threw a royal shit fit over their project progress in their latest meeting.

“Good job, Winchester.”

Dean neglects to say, of course, that the cool slip of expensive satin panties every time he had minutely moved during the meeting had made Roman’s tirade more bearable.

Dean makes more frequent stops by the post office and always comes away with something pretty and new.

Gorgeous silk. Cute frilly, playful panties. Naughty, barely there satin and lace.

Dean loves trying them all on. Most make it onto his blog, though, a few don’t.

He’ll show his ass in a sheer thong all day but he’s not putting his dick full out on the internet for everyone to see.

Then there’s the panties he loves the most. They’re beautiful and expensive as hell.

He nearly chokes the first time he receives a box from Agent Provocateur with a internet generated note that says, I think you’ll look lovely in these. - Cas

The dude has expensive taste and Dean faithfully gets a package every week with a note saying how much the others were enjoyed and these might be better.

Always signed Cas and always spot on. Because whoever Cas is, he never fails in knowing the perfect pair for Dean.

Which is what Dean’s looking at now: two of the most gorgeous pairs of panties he’s ever seen.

They’ll make the perfect pictures to put on his blog before he goes on hiatus while he visits Charlie up in Kansas City for the Kansas City Comic Con. 

Dean locks his bedroom door, more out of habit than anything else since he knows Sam’s already left for the weekend with his girlfriend, Sarah.

Quickly undressing, Dean slides the first pair out of the pink and black box. Thumbs rubbing over tiny black bows that stand out against bright pink, delicate lace before he slips them up his legs, smoothing them down so they sit just right across his hips.

They feel like heaven.

By the time he’s done taking pictures of himself bent over the bed in the second pair, Dean can barely stand it. He’s had to adjust his increasingly difficult to manage erection multiple times and he can’t do it anymore.

Shimming out of the black lace thong with chain accents, he quickly uploads the pictures with a special thanks to Cas.

Then he grabs the first pair and rucks them back up over his hips as he sits on the edge of his bed. Rubs the smooth lace over his hard cock until he’s screaming with orgasm and making a complete mess of his newest, lovely present.

*****

“Don’t you dare laugh at me.” Dean growls as he best friend tries to contain her snickers.

“I’m not laughing at you, I swear. It’s just the whole situation.” Charlie shakes her head, laughter gone.

“It’s not funny.” Dean grumbles, make shift bandages of food court vendor napkins pressed against the left side of his face.

“No. It wasn’t. It was kind of scary at first, until you knocked the hell out of that douchebag, while wearing a Slave Leia costume and now we’re trying to get you stitched up, with you still wearing said costume.” Charlie points out, she herself wearing a perfectly doctor’s office acceptable, Han Solo costume.

“Well, we wouldn’t be here if that asshole had minded his own fuckin’ business.” Dean was angry, his costume was friggin’ awesome and some bigoted piece of shit just had to go running his mouth and ruin what’d been up until that point, a sweet day.

“Mr. Winchester?” A redheaded nurse calls as she opens the door leading back to the examining rooms.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Charlie asks; face full of genuine concern.

Dean shakes his head as he stands up. “Nah, you should stay out here and try and get the number of that blonde receptionist. She was totally flirting with you.”

There’s no reaction to his half dressed state as he approaches the nurse, then follows her back to a room.

“The doctor will be in shortly.” She smiles sweetly before exiting the room and Dean wonders if maybe he can get her number before he leaves the office.

He sits waiting for a bit, continuously trying to unstick his ass from the examining table. He’s got a pair of burgundy short briefs under the skirt of his costume, for decency sake, but they’re not doing shit for his current situation, in the least.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean growls in irritation as he yanks the paper off his thigh right as there’s a knock and the door opens.

Holy fucking shit.

All of Dean’s repeat viewings and fantasies of Dr. Sexy could never compete with the dude in front of him right now.

Intense blue eyes, tousled dark hair and the most ridiculously delicious, wide, pink mouth...that’s apparently asking Dean questions that he hasn’t been listening too.

“Mr. Winchester...” Goddamn that’s a sexy assed deep voice.

Shit, shit. Focus, Dean.

“I’m sorry, doc. Can you repeat that?” Dean feels his cheeks burning, but hopefully real life Dr. Sexy, here, will only pay attention to the gash on the left one that brought Dean to him in the first place.

“I asked if you could tell me what happened to your face, while I take a look.” The doctor repeats; stepping into Dean’s personal space while peeling away the napkins and Dean has never been more thankful for pain as a surefire boner killer.

“Well, I’m sure my awesome attire let’s you know, but me and my friend Charlie were at the Comic Con downtown.” Dean waves a hand at his costume. “Some stupid asshole started running his mouth, called me a faggot then got a swing in on me. But that’s alright he still got his ass handed to him after that by a “faggot” in a Slave Leia costume.”

The doctor steps back from prodding at his cheek and Dean notices an almost angry look on his face.

“Hey, you’re not gonna go and report this to the cops or anything are you?” Dean asks worriedly, only now thinking about the repercussions this could have on his job.

“No, not unless you want me to file a report with the police about the clear hate crime committed against you.” His blue eyes are laser focused as he waits for Dean’s response.

“Dude, no reports. I’m good.” Dean assures hastily.

The doctor shakes his head then turns to the side to make notes in Dean’s chart. “You’re going to need some stitches. It won’t take long, though, if you have time, I can do them now.”

"I am totally down with some stitches, though. Make me look pretty again, doc.“ Dean exaggerates as his tightly coiled, anxiety filled body relaxes and he grins while leaning back on the exam table.

He definitely doesn’t mind spending more time here, even if it involves needles.

The doctor busies himself at the cabinet with getting his materials together while Dean sits patiently, taking in the broad shoulders and the way muscles move underneath his lab coat.

“We’re going to start with a local anesthetic then I’ll proceed with the stitches. It’s not a deep gash so it should heal...” The doctor’s voice falters as he turns back around and his eyes slide over Dean’s reclined body, stopping at the tattoo clearly visible on his hip.

“That’s an interesting tattoo.” He says as he regains his voice.

Dean’s confused for a moment before he looks down at the Millennium Falcon and smiles. “I’ve had it for years, got it with my friend at another Comic Con we went to.”

The doctor’s about to say something, a strange look on his face that Dean can’t quite place, when the door opens and the redhead from earlier sticks her head in.

“I’m sorry, I know Mr. Winchester is urgent but we’re having a slight issue in room 4, that really needs your attention.” She apologizes; glancing between the pair.

“Of course.” He nods, before turning back to Dean. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back then we can take care of your stitches.”

The doctor follows the nurse out, shutting the door behind him and Dean’s left wondering what in the hell all the weirdness around his tattoo was about. 

Jumping off the table Dean starts snooping around the room. He picks up his chart and immediately the doctor’s first name jumps out at him.

Castiel

What kind of name is that?

Hopefully the dude has a nickname, cause that’s a mouthful.

Something easier, like...

Cas

“Shit, oh shit.” Dean nearly drops his file when the name pops into his head. There’s no way. No way it’s the same dude. Cas could be short for all kinds of shit right?

‘Cas was the first to mention the tattoo on the blog.’ Dean’s mind provides just as the door begins to open.

He flings himself back into the table and tries his hardest to look like he’s not freaking out.

“Are you alright?” Cas...oh, god, cause it totally is, asks.

Of course, a fucking doctor would be able to afford to send a stranger a mountain of friggin’ panties from Agent Provocateur.

“Ah, yeah, man, I’m good. I just really hate needles.” Dean tries to get comfortable for the procedure while watching the doctor’s large, tan hands finish gathering up the equipment.

Fuck it.

“We were talking about my tattoo earlier. Were you were gonna ask something before you had to run out?” Dean leans forward a bit, eyes trained on Cas’ turned back.

“No, it’s just an interesting tattoo. Not one you would see very often, even more so in the placement.” He offers with a shoulder shrug.

Go for broke, Winchester. “True. You probably wouldn’t, Cas.”

The doctor swings around, eyes wide, mouth hanging open slightly. “I don’t...”

Dean holds up a hand. “Hey, I’m just letting you know it’s all cool with me. I totally appreciate the attention. But if you don’t, I’d still like help with this,” He gestures at his face. “and then I’ll be out of here like any other patient.”

To further his point, Dean straightens up and tries to cover himself the best he can as Cas slowly brings the medical tray over.

“Did you know this was my practice?” Cas questions, once again all up in Dean’s space.

“Son of a bitch! That hurt, dude.” Dean yelps, but Cas is already putting the needle back onto the tray.

“You said you were afraid of needles. Distractions usually work well.” Cas offers with a small smirk of satisfaction that he should really be ashamed of.

“No, of course I didn’t know. How could I? Your stuff always comes straight from the company.” Dean answers, getting them back on track. “Charlie picked your office ‘cause it was the closest to where I got sucker punched by some dickhead with a shitty Iron Man glove. I promise.”

As Cas, face set with concentration starts stitching him up, Dean tries to keep his cool with their extremely close proximity.

“How’d you know it was me, then?” Cas wonders; one large hand held steady against Dean’s unmarred cheek while the other began stitching the injury up.

Dean feels the tug of the thread, but no pain.

“Dude, you got kinda freaked when you saw my tattoo. So after you left I snuck a peek at my chart, saw your name and put it all together.” Dean feels his face flush at the admission.

Cas hums as he reaches for the scissors, clipping the end of the stitch.

“You’re all done.” He says; placing a gauze over the spot, fingers lingering over the bandage a bit longer than medically necessary.

“You’ve been asking all the questions, doc, so how about I get a turn?” Dean catches and holds Cas’ gaze until he finally nods in the affirmative. “Have dinner with me?”

*****

“Wait, you’re going out with your very own personal Dr. Sexy? Only you, Dean! What’d you do ask him out while he was stitching up your face?”

Dean only half listens to Charlie’s excited chatter while they’re in the taxi back to the hotel.

Because holy shit. He has a date. With Cas. Cas! Who gives him the most amazing panties of anyone on his blog. And turned out to be a scorching hot  doctor in real life.

O.K., Charlie cannot know about the blog or panties part. At all. 

“Yep, that’s pretty much it.” Dean grins wide as they come to stop and pay driver before stepping out of the vehicle. “He’s picking me up at 7:30.” 

“7:30. Oh, would you look at that!” Charlie points as they pass the events board in the lobby on their way upstairs. “The dance party starts at the same time, so I will be far, far away from our room. Who knows, maybe even for the entire night!”

“Dude! I’m not gonna...” Dean starts but Charlie shuts down all of his bullshit with one look.

“Oh, I’m sorry? How long’s it been since you’ve gotten laid, again?” Charlie announces loudly like everyone needs to know Dean’s business.

“Bite me, Bradbury.” Dean grumbles as he pushes her through the open doors of the nearest elevator.

*****

He’s gonna vomit. Vomit. Right here on the fancy rug in his hotel’s living room area.

This was a bad, bad idea. He doesn’t know anything about this dude other than he sends random guys on the internet really expensive panties and he’s a doctor.

A doctor.

Oh, fuck he’s totally about to be eaten and not in the good way by some Hannibal Lecter psycho. He should have just gone to the party with Charlie.

Dean is brought out of his ridiculous cannibalistic freak out by a knock at the door, a glance at the clock shows it’s already 7:30.

Shit.

Glancing through the peephole Dean finds Cas standing in the hall looking fucking gorgeous and not the least bit like a cannibal in black slacks and a dark blue button down shirt.

‘This isn’t creepy,’  Dean decides right then and there, ‘This is awesome.’

“Hey!” He grins as he flings the door open, only to be met with Cas’ gaze running over his body before the doctor gives him a perplexed look.

Which is when Dean realizes he’s not even close to being fully dressed. Jeans still unbuttoned but pulled mostly up over his hips, while his shirt is slung over his shoulder. He gestures Cas in, then heads toward the bedroom area. “Sorry. I got a bit distracted.Have a seat and lemme finish getting...”

“Are those the ones I sent to you?”

Cas’ words stop Dean in his tracks, because, yeah, they are. The pink lace with the black bows. They’re his favorite pair of all the ones that Cas has sent.

“Um, yes?” Dean answers, running a hand over the back of his neck before turning around.

The words barely leave Dean’s lips and Cas is suddenly incredibly close. The breath from an exhale ghosting across Dean’s bare shoulder, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake.

It’s a good thing the dude more than likely isn’t some serial killer, because he’s fast and quiet when he moves and Dean’s already starting to feel like a goner around him, in a good way.

Cas’ hands hover near Dean’s hips and he looks up, intense blue eyes already pleading even before he asks, “May I see them?”

This isn’t exactly how Dean thought the night would go, but he didn’t wear the friggin’ panties for nothing.

“Hell yeah.” Dean reaches to pull his jeans down his thighs but his hands are swatted away by Cas, who reverently slides the denim away from the pink lace that’s stretched over Dean’s hips.

“Stunning.” Cas murmurs as his fingers glide over the delicate material, but then he’s looking questioningly at Dean again. “Can I kiss you?”

Oh, you most definitely can, Dean thinks as he reaches to cup Cas’ stubbled jaw to draw him closer. 

It’s not like any bullshit Disney movie where spark fly when their lips meet but it’s still friggin’ awesome.

Cas’ lips are a bit chapped as they press against Dean’s and his breath tastes like spearmint toothpaste and whiskey when he slides his tongue into Dean’s mouth.

Which Dean finds amusing and comforting that he isn’t the only one nervous and that the doctor had to down some liquid courage before coming here tonight.

He’s so enamored with the way teeth every so often scrape over the swell of his lip, tongue thrusting wantonly into his mouth, that Dean doesn’t realize how much Cas has taken control of their movements until the back of his knees hit his bed. While the doctor’s hands massaging his ass through the thin material of the panties.

“So, I guess this means a rain check on dinner?” Dean huffs teasingly as Cas licks a stripe toward his collarbone.

The action comes to a screeching halt when Cas pulls back to make eye contact with Dean. “Is this alright? If it’s not, we can just do dinner. I don’t expect anything else from you, Dean. Certainly not this. Everything I’ve given you was meant as gifts and nothing more.”

Dean opens his mouth to reply that, ‘Fuck yes, he wants this. Wants it bad.’

When suddenly Hermione Granger’s voice fills the room, “A telephone, Ron. Honestly, you should take Muggle Studies next year.”

“Shit. Hold that thought. That’s my best friend, Charlie. We’re sharing the hotel room.” Dean pulls away from Cas and grabs his phone off the night stand.

There’s a picture message from Charlie, still in her Han Solo costume, grinning widely with an arm around the waist of a tall brunette who appears to be dressed as some sort of post-apocalyptic Dorothy from Wizard of Oz.

‘Room’s all yours, Handmaiden. I’m off on my own adventure. Have fun with Dr. Sexy.’

“Is everything alright?” Cas asks from the spot he’s frozen to at the end of the bed.

“Oh yeah, it’s awesome. More than.” Dean smirks as he shucks his jeans completely off then jumps on the bed while crooking a finger in Cas direction. “C’mere.”

Thankfully, Cas isn’t just pretty but smart as well because he quickly strips out of his clothes...and goddamn he looks friggin’ hotter without them, all muscles and tan, long limbs, even if he is wearing white, dorky grandpa boxers.

Dean can’t help himself and snickers from where he’s propped up on his elbows at the head of bed.

Cas’ face to scrunch up in irritation. “It’s not nice to laugh at a nearly naked man, Dean.”

“I’m not laughing at you, just your nerdy choice of underwear.” Dean’s chuckle is cut short when Cas crawls onto the bed between Dean’s bowed legs and begins mouthing a wet, hot line from his ankle on up.

“I wasn’t worried about my underwear, as much as I was yours.” Cas says when he nips at the tender flesh right behind Dean’s knee.

“Oh.” Dean gasps, as Cas spreads his thighs wider.

His large hands massaging the soft skin as he dips down and nudges his nose and mouth against Dean’s lace encased erection. “These are my favorite that I’ve sent. You look so beautiful in them.”

Dean can only whine and rock his hips in an attempt to keep contact when Cas begins to flick his tongue over the head of Dean’s cock that’s slipped above the panties’ hemline.

It’s too much, too much.

“Get up here.” Dean pants, fingers threading through and tugging at Cas’ hair until the other man is over him, eyes dark and face slightly red from where he’s been rubbing against lace.

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas questions, dipping in for a kiss that quickly turns into roaming hands and the slick slide of tongues and breathy groans instead of an answer.

“You. Naked. Now.” Dean finally demands as he pushes at Cas’ broad shoulders. 

Cas leans back on his knees and does an awkward shuffle to get out of his boxers that has Dean almost laughing again until he gets a good look at Cas’ cock while the doctor tosses the underwear off the bed. 

Holy shit.

That’s the most gorgeous cock Dean’s ever seen. Long and thick, curved slightly to the left, head flushed and glistening.

And fuck Dean doesn’t know where he wants Cas to put it first. Not that he’d be disappointed by any of the options.

Cas makes the decision for him, though, by resuming his previous spot above Dean but presses him harder into the mattress when he ruts against Dean’s lace covered cock with a gravelly groan.

“Wait, lemme...” Dean attempts to pull off the panties but the wounded sound Cas makes stops him.

“NO. Leave them on, please.” He begs before reclaiming Dean’s mouth.

Christ, they’re dry humping like a couple of high schoolers, but it’s the hottest fucking thing on the planet. And much too soon things aren’t so dry as the panties get wetter and slicker by the minute. Both of their cocks leaking against the delicate lace material.

Dean’s close, so close, but it’s Cas, clutching almost painfully to the hair at the back of Dean’s head and wailing with one final hard thrust, that sends Dean spiraling over the edge as well.

When Cas eventually flops over to lay beside Dean, his fingers caressing circles into the sweaty skin of Dean’s thigh, all Dean can think is that they’re gonna have to, without a doubt, do that again. Hopefully with Cas’ gorgeous cock buried deep in his ass, or in his mouth, or just...any damned where.

But right now he also needs to get out of these increasingly sticky, stiff and utterly ruined, but worth it, panties.

He’s wiggling out of them when Cas’ stomach gives an obscenely loud grumble that has Dean bursting out into full laughter.

“Did ya work up an appetite there, doc?” He winks even as Cas scowls at him in response. “I think room service is definitely in order.”

*****

“Hey, Dean! Only one package this week. Actually, your mail’s gone down a bunch over the last six months. The head honchos probably wouldn’t want me suggesting this...” Garth glances around for coworkers in earshot before turning back to Dean, “but you could probably drop back down to the original box you had when you first came in.”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s do it.” Dean nods then smiles down at the package in his hands.

Garth makes the changes then grins in Dean’s direction. “Alright you’re all done. Have a good day!”

“Oh don’t worry, I totally will!” Dean says with a wave as he exits the post office.

*****

“Turn around let me see the back.” Even the speakers of the computer can’t dim the aroused rumble of Cas’ voice when Dean does as he’s told, making sure to bend over the foot of his bed so Cas gets a good view of the less than there back of the hot pink tulle panties.

“They‘re even better than I imagined when I saw them online. Perfect for me to eat out that gorgeous ass of yours before filling it up with my cock.”

“Jesus, Cas.” Dean groans, unconsciously rubbing his hardening cock against his mattress, then giving a pissy look over his shoulder at Cas’ smiling face on the computer screen. “You can’t say shit like that when you’re not here.”

“Don’t worry. I will be. This weekend, I promise. And I’m bringing presents.”