Fifty First Dates

Chapter 18

Castiel closed the front door softly, and stowed his briefcase under the cubic side table, where a pile of letters sat in a bowl, beside a set of keys. There was a delicious yet subtle fragrance in the air, and Castiel sniffed hopefully. He walked through the hallway, and into the light, open-plan kitchen, where Dean had his back to him, bending slightly over the streamlined stove. Castiel leaned against the pristine, marble-topped island to survey Dean’s physique as he stirred a pan, and tested a sauce from another.

‘Are you checking me out?’ Dean teased, turning to smile at Castiel, flashing bright white teeth as he did so. Castiel cast his eyes slowly down, taking in Dean’s tight green pullover, tan slacks, and designer slippers, appreciating the way that it all clung to his body, highlighting the definition of his firm muscles. Dean chuckled. ‘That wasn’t an invite, baby.’

‘You inspire me,’ Castiel’s eyes swept back up to Dean’s face. ‘What’s for dinner?’

‘Thai green curry,’ Dean turned back to the stove, and Castiel came closer, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist from behind and resting his head against his lover.

‘Mmmm, what’s the occasion?’

‘I felt like it. And I had a half-day today, so I could spend the time doing it. How was work?’

‘Oh, you know, long, tedious. But I closed that deal I’ve been working on for forever.’

‘Well then, we’re having this to celebrate. I got some of that imported beer you bought me in the fridge, and some of your wine. We’ll make a night of it.’

Castiel kissed Dean’s neck softly.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ Dean promised, turning his head to grab a kiss on his lips, which Castiel was only too happy to oblige. And then Dean was turning in his arms, pressing closer, kissing him harder, his arms encircling him, and Castiel laughed into his mouth, pushing him away.

‘Stop tempting me, you’re going to burn the food, and you’ve spent so long making it.’

‘Stop tempting me, wearing that suit. You’re the entire reason I have a tie fetish.’ Dean smirked, and ran a hand over Castiel’s backside, his palm and fingers caressing the curves. Castiel made himself step back, out of reach.

‘You’re a bad influence.’

‘You love it.’

‘So do you.’ Castiel smiled, and stroked a thumb down Dean’s temple and cheek. ‘I’ll go set the table.’

‘How do you even make that sound sexy?’ Dean laughed, and turned back to the meal he was preparing as Castiel left the room, heading into the dining room. The walls were lined with shelves, which were covered in photographs of them together, and of Sam with Becky, as well as various statuettes and trinkets that Castiel had found and admired. He looked around at everything, smiling at his favourite picture of Dean and himself cuddling on a fallen tree in a park, before heading to one of the sideboards and removing everything he needed to make two place settings.

The sound of Dean singing filtered through from the kitchen, and Castiel smiled as he placed the silverware on the table, laying everything down quietly so he could listen to the words. He loved Dean’s singing voice, the way it was slightly gravelly and yet there was a softer, higher note hiding in there too. He placed a wine glass by his seat, and a fluted beer glass by Dean’s, and then went into the kitchen again, as Dean mixed one pan into another.

‘Nearly ready, baby.’ Dean scraped the last of the sauce out of the pan.

‘Okay. Where’s the wine?’

‘In the fridge, next to my beer. I told you that.’

Castiel groaned, and placed his forehead against the metal front of their refrigerator.

‘Dean, you don’t chill red. Its room temperature!’

‘It’ll still taste the same.’

Castiel shook his head against the metal.

‘You are so uncultured.’

‘That’s why I have you. Have a beer with me.’

Castiel sighed, and stepped away from the door, opening it and pulling out two bottles, before walking back to the table.

‘It’ll taste fine, Cas!’ Dean called at his retreating back. ‘And this is chicken, aren’t you meant to have white with it anyway?’

‘Don’t talk like you have any idea when you’ve ruined the Rioja!’ Castiel called back, pouring Dean’s beer into his glass and leaving the wine bottle by his place setting. Dean appeared with a couple of bowls, which he put on the table before walking around and sliding his arms around Castiel’s waist.

‘You’re not really mad at me, are you baby?’

Castiel looked sideways at him, accepting the kiss that Dean planted on his cheek.

‘How could I ever be mad at you?’

Dean laughed, muzzling his nose just behind Castiel’s ear.

‘Glad to hear it.’

Castiel drew back slightly, and kissed Dean gently, running a hand over his chest.

‘We should eat,’ Dean sighed, and pulled Castiel’s chair out for him, gesturing for him to sit.

‘Since when are you this romantic?’ Castiel asked as he settled himself. Dean bent down, sliding his arms around Castiel’s neck, and down underneath his shirt. Castiel shivered at the feel of Dean’s cold hands against his chest.

‘Mmmm, since I wanted to make it up to you for ruining the wine.’ He kissed the top of Castiel’s head, and reached for the bottle, opening it and pouring it into Castiel’s glass until it was near the brim.

‘Dean, you have no class. You don’t fill a wine glass to the top.’

‘You do when you’re trying to get your man drunk,’ Dean laughed, and sat at his seat, immediately reaching over and piling food on both of their plates, then tucking into his meal. Castiel played with the stem of his glass, looking at Dean as he chewed. Dean swallowed hard, and pointed to Castiel’s plate with his fork. ‘Are you going to eat, babe?’

Castiel picked up his own fork, and scooped up some rice that had been coated with the sauce. He knew Dean was eager for his approval. It was just that for some reason he felt unsettled, and he wasn’t sure how to convey that to the man sitting beside him, proud of his own cooking merits. Castiel chewed slowly before swallowing, and scooped more up, straight into his mouth. If he ate quickly enough, Dean would be satisfied that it was so good that he couldn’t possibly comment. And it was. Dean stopped watching him after a few mouthfuls, and they sank into a happy silence, the only sound was the scrape of cutlery against tableware, and the soft thunk of glass hitting table whenever one of them had a drink.

Eventually, Dean leaned back in his chair, holding his half-drunk beer, and watched as Castiel finished his meal primly, sipping from his wine glass occasionally. The wine hadn’t really suffered from its time in the refrigerator, but Castiel didn’t want to have to say that. Dean could probably tell, purely from the fact that Castiel was still drinking it.

‘Sam and Becky want to come over tomorrow. I said that was okay.’

Castiel swallowed a piece of chicken hurriedly.

‘That’s more than okay, you know that. It would be good to see Mary and Jessie again.’

He looked at Dean, who smiled back lazily, and took a large slug of beer. There was a moment of silence between them, and Castiel reached for his wine glass once more, looking around again and settling on a picture of the two of them at a carnival, fresh out of a ride. They both looked so happy, their arms tightly around each other as they grinned hard for the camera. Castiel’s face was pressed against Dean’s shoulder, and Dean’s eyes were focused on him. He found himself smiling at the picture, even as Dean’s gazed burned into him.

‘Are you done?’ Dean asked eventually. Castiel turned at looked at him, marvelling once again at the beautiful man in front of him, amazed that he belonged to anyone as physically perfect as him. He put the wine glass down, and grabbed both their plates, heading towards the kitchen sink. He started running the water and felt Dean’s bulging biceps press against his chest as Dean’s torso leaned against his back.

‘You’re quiet tonight, baby. Is everything okay?’

‘Of course,’ Castiel started washing the plates, and the pans that Dean had left to soak. ‘I guess I’m just tired from work.’

‘We’ll have an early night then,’ Dean promised, kissing the back of his neck. Castiel smiled to himself, knowing there was no way they’d actually go to sleep early. ‘Did you want to watch some TV first? Something to chill out to?’

Castiel leaned back into Dean’s firm, defined chest, accepting Dean’s gentle kisses across his cheek.

‘Sounds good.’

‘It’s not much of a celebration after all your hard work,’ Dean sounded thoughtful.

‘I don’t know, Dean. It’s an evening with you, and us talking, and good wine. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate winning the contract.’

‘I can think of a few ways to improve it,’ Dean muttered, nuzzling into the crook of Castiel’s neck.

‘I have some dishes left,’ Castiel warned, though of course he was burning to ignore the washing up in order to sink into Dean’s body. His lover didn’t complain, except to grab a dish towel and begin drying the dishes that Castiel passed him. They fell into an easy routine, and soon had everything away that Dean had used to make their meal. And then Dean was advancing on him, wrapping him in another hug, and Castiel became lost in his arms, in the press of their lips against one another’s, the slide of Dean’s tongue against his own, the tang of Dean’s beer and the smell of his cologne. This was the way to celebrate advancement at work.

‘Know what I like about us?’ Dean whispered as he pressed his forehead against Castiel’s. Castiel closed his eyes and breathed in, completely surrounded by that wonderful smell that was quintessentially Dean.

‘There’s lots of things to like about us,’ Castiel pointed out.

’That’s true. But specifically, I like that we just work.’

‘And that being together never feels stale?’

Dean chuckled.

‘Yep, that too. Come on, let’s go watch something. Or put a movie on and not watch it.’

Castiel loved the playful side to Dean. He let him take his hand, and lead him back into their dining room, where they collected Castiel’s wine and wine glass, and Dean took another one for himself before they walked together into their lounge, where Dean took control of the remote controls and Castiel carefully poured some of the red wine for Dean. His lover wouldn’t particularly care if any were spilled, but Castiel liked their white furniture and expensive rug; he’d never forgive himself if he ruined them through carelessness.

They sat together on the sofa as a cooking show that Dean seemed to enjoy began, and they tangled their legs together as Castiel passed a glass along for Dean, and he responded by laying his free hand on Castiel’s thigh. Castiel reached over and began to run his fingers along Dean’s shoulders, and up into his hair.

‘Are you happy, Castiel?’ Dean asked after a few minutes.

‘Beyond happy. I’m with you. What about you, Dean, are you happy?’

Dean grinned, and sipped from his glass quickly before answering.

‘You make me very happy, Cas.’

Castiel shifted even closer to his lover, resting his head against Dean’s solid frame. Dean stroked slowly along his leg, and they fell back into that easy silence as they got involved in the show. They continued to drink their wine as they watched, and Castiel was grateful that Dean’s hand never left his leg for the entire hour the show was on, even when Castiel topped them both up.

By the end of the show, Castiel felt a pleasant buzz in his head, and a warm feeling in his chest. Everything was perfect; their relationship, their house, Dean. There was nowhere else he would have rather been than with Dean, who was turning to look at him with a dopey expression on his face. Castiel smiled back, loving that expression, the way Dean’s eyelids were half-open and his smile was faint, but so obvious to Castiel.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too, so much,’ Castiel responded. Dean’s lazy smile stretched slightly, and then he was sitting up, placing his glass gently on the glass coffee table, and leaning over Castiel.

‘Did you want to go to bed already?’

Castiel contemplated Dean’s proposition. He knew that no matter what, when they got up the stairs and into their bedroom, they would be having sex, but he found himself wanting to wait, wanting to enjoy the moment as it was with Dean.

‘No, lets watch something else,’ he decided. Dean passed him the remotes, and then lay down on the sofa, his torso bearing down on Castiel. ‘Dean, my wine!’

‘I’m being careful,’ Dean promised, slipping his arms into the gap between Castiel’s back and the arm of the sofa. Castiel’s chest felt restricted, but in a good way. There was something about Dean’s warm weight that he connected with comfort. Castiel managed to flip through the channels until he found a documentary, and Dean groaned as the announcer’s voice filtered through the room.

‘Babe, you have the worst taste in entertainment.’

‘It’s discussing the existence of angels, it’s interesting.’

‘It’ll all be those crystal-loving freaks.’

Castiel sighed, and took a huge slug of wine. Sometimes, Dean would find a documentary interesting. He liked the one set in different factories where they learned how every day objects were constructed, but as soon as Castiel picked one about aliens, or fairies, or other mythical creatures-

‘Why’s it on one of the documentary channels? They’re not even real.’

‘They’re real to some people, Dean.’

Castiel flipped through the channels again, avoiding one show he thought looked interesting on a serial killer. If Dean merely disliked his alien conspiracy shows, it was nothing on the true crime stories. He got upset whenever it was suggested that humans were capable of such violence. He would have to TiVo it, and watch when Dean wasn’t around. He stopped instead on a reality TV show, which he knew Dean would complain about but secretly love.

Dean didn’t speak throughout the show, though about halfway through, when one extremely rich woman was bad-mouthing her equally-rich friend on a piece-to-camera, Dean began kissing Castiel’s neck, rolling his body down Castiel’s, and Castiel hastily placed his wine glass on the floor before winding his arms around Dean’s neck, arching his back so Dean had better access to his neck.

‘I want you so much right now, baby,’ Dean muttered. Castiel’s eyes fluttered, and he began to grip Dean’s head, pulling him even closer.

‘I want you too Dean.’

‘Should we go up now? I really don’t care if they’re fighting or friends or who wore what trashy dress better. I just want to lose myself in you.’

Dean began to really work on Castiel’s neck, practically making out with the skin there, biting hard enough to make Castiel groan, and thrust up into Dean.

‘I didn’t disturb you though your show.’

’Trust me, you did.’ Dean sucked hard on the section of neck he was giving attention to. ‘You were there, right next to me, pretending you weren’t half as sexy as you are.’

‘It’s not as bad as you cooking with those biceps.’

Dean chuckled, which vibrated on Castiel’s neck, and went right to his groin.

‘Think we could make it upstairs?’

‘I think you’d kill me if I got anything on the sofa. Even if it’s your idea to have sex on it. Come on, you hot piece of ass.’

Dean climbed off slowly, rolling his body over Castiel as he did so, moving Castiel’s wine glass safely onto the table and taking Castiel’s hand. The darker-haired man hastily turned their television off, and allowed his lover to raise him from the seat, straight into his arms. They kissed again, more passionately this time, Castiel’s heart thumping in his chest as his breathing became laboured. He wasn’t sure he would care about the sofa, not when seeing Dean naked was imminent. He started to pull at Dean’s shirt, hoping to get it over his head, but Dean stepped back, breaking off the kiss and laughing again.

‘Babe, trust me, when the hormones wear off, you’ll freak. Remember that time we had sex on the island in the kitchen?’

Castiel didn’t respond to that, though he knew what Dean was getting at. Nothing had been placed on the faux-marble that was food related since.

’Then get the hell up into our bedroom.’

Dean smirked, and pulled Castiel along by his tie, winding their way through their house, and up the stairs. They practically fell through their bedroom door, where they immediately began kissing each other again, Dean holding Castiel’s head firmly as Castiel raked his fingers down his lover’s back. Dean groaned loudly, and Castiel felt himself stiffen. This was what he lived for, his total, undeniable connection with Dean.

Dean began tugging his own shirt off, and Castiel grabbed his wrists.


‘Babe, I thought you wanted-‘

‘I get to do it.’ Castiel practically growled. Dean stopped moving, staring at him for a moment, before letting go of his shirt, and standing still, waiting for Castiel to begin undressing him. Castiel moved slowly, his fingers grazing over every inch of skin that he could access, watching as Dean’s eyes fluttered close for a moment as he embraced the sensation. He slowly lifted his lover’s top, fingers almost scratching the tanned torso underneath, and he stooped down to start kissing as every millimetre of skin was exposed. He finally pulled the cloth away from his lover, letting him grab his face again, both of them reattaching at the mouth almost violently.

Castiel looped his fingers through the belt loops on Dean’s pants, pulling him closer, groaning into Dean’s mouth as their penises connected through the material. He lost himself in the softness of Dean’s lips, the firmness of his body, the skill of Dean’s tongue, the taste of his mouth, the way their bodies meshed together in a way that went beyond understanding. It was as though they were one person, in that moment in time.

Dean was pushing his tongue further and further into Castiel’s mouth, holding his head in order to deepen their kiss, and he began rolling his body again, trying to dry hump Castiel where they stood. Castiel’s hands slid around to the catch on Dean’s pants, and he worked to undo them around Dean’s movements, his hands brushing against Dean as he pushed his pants down. Dean started to try to kick them off, and Castiel found himself slapping Dean’s backside. Dean kicked again, and Castiel smacked him harder.

‘No,’ he forced out around Dean’s onslaught. Dean wriggled his hips, and Castiel forced his head back, away from Dean’s hands and mouth and tongue and teeth and-


‘I said I get to do it.’

They looked into each others eyes for a moment, both of them panting heavily, and then Dean raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

‘I’m sorry, Castiel. I liked it when you struck me.’

He gave a boyish smile, and Castiel forced himself not to let his will crumble. Dean looked so good like that.

‘Keep pushing me and that’s all we’re going to end up doing.’

Dean grinned, and Castiel shook his head slightly, before bending down and easing off Dean’s pants, looking back up at Dean when he was standing just in the thong that Castiel had ordered him to wear that morning. It barely covered anything, especially as Dean was straining against the flimsy lace, and Castiel licked his lips. Dean was going to let him do exactly what he wanted, wasn’t he? He was going to make the night count.

He ran his hands up Dean’s legs, palm flat against his skin, until he reached the lace, where he looped his fingers through the material. He was still looking up, into Dean’s eyes, as he slowly began to inch the material down.

’Stay standing,’ Castiel said firmly, and Dean nodded, eyes fluttering closed as Castiel brushed back down his skin. Castiel leaned forward and began kissing along Dean’s leg, from his knee upwards, feeling his lover shaking underneath his lips. The tremors in Dean’s legs grew as Castiel worked his way upwards, and he was soon gripping on to Castiel’s head, fingers tugging painfully at his hair, his whole body leaning into him as the sensations became too much to bear. It didn’t stop Castiel from pushing on, trailing his way up Dean’s leg and finally pressing his lips against Dean’s groin. Dean moaned as Castiel took his time, kissing all the way along his length, covering every reachable millimetre of skin, and then licking his tip, feeling him thrust up into his mouth.

Castiel closed his eyes as Dean pumped into his mouth, his hands holding onto Dean’s buttocks so hard he knew there would be slight indents into the mounds of flesh. He made a mental note to look over his handiwork in the morning, before running his tongue along Dean’s shaft, hearing him whimper.

‘Fuck, Cas,’ he breathed, pulling at his hair. Castiel dug his fingers in harder, pulling Dean closer to him, feeling the head tickle the back of his throat. All he could hear was Dean’s gasping breaths, the sharp little hisses, his own staggered breathing, and the wet sound of his mouth on Dean’s skin. Everything was reduced down to the sensation of their bodies connecting, the unspoken need for each other palpable in the air. And then Dean was releasing with a yell, yanking Castiel’s hair so hard he was afraid his scalp would pull off as the warm liquid flowed down his throat. He gulped it down, and pulled off of Dean’s penis with a popping sound, looking back up at Dean.

‘You look so hot on my dick,’ Dean whispered in amongst his laboured breaths.

‘You taste good.’

‘You feel good.’

‘It never gets old.’

‘Mmmm, never.’

Castiel stood up, kissing Dean hard, feeling Dean’s hands working along his waistband, untucking his shirt …

‘Dean, what’re you doing?’

‘I’m naked, and you’re not.’ Dean barely pulled away from Castiel, their lips bumping together as he spoke. ‘Baby, I want to feel your skin on mine, want to get hot pressed against you. I want your permission to take off your clothes.’

Castiel loved the fact that Dean got so into role-playing, and scenes, and still just wanted him. He stopped kissing, or even touching Dean, and took a slow step back, making sure he had Dean’s unwavering eye contact. Their breathing slowed, and Castiel could see Dean beginning to shiver in the cool of their room.

‘Okay.’ He spoke eventually, savouring the power he had over Dean. ‘You may.’

Dean moved fast, whipping Castiel’s tie off, deftly unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off hastily, and practically ripping Castiel’s pants off, pushing Castiel onto their kingsized bed in order to work them all the way off. Castiel propped himself up by his elbows and watched as Dean came back to pull his underpants down too, the bloody-mindedness apparent on his face. He was about to pounce on his lover, but Castiel stuck a hand out, pointing across the room.

‘What are you forgetting?’

Castiel would never speak to Dean like this outside of their bedroom. Dean would never take it. And yet somehow, when it came to sex, it was how they worked best, with Castiel calling the shots. Dean hastened across the room, throwing open a drawer and pulling out condoms, lube, and a few pairs of fur-covered handcuffs.

‘Blindfold too,’ Castiel told him.

‘Come on, Cas!’

Castiel shot Dean a dirty look, but Dean stood his ground.

‘Cas, I love you, I want to see you when we’re connecting. Don’t you want that too?’

Castiel sighed, and stood up, taking the handcuffs from Dean, and nodding towards the bed.

‘Lay down, face down.’

Dean looked ready to argue back, but one warning look of Castiel’s and he swallowed it down, climbing onto their bed and spreading his arms and legs out in a starfish as he lay on his stomach. Castiel walked around the bed, securing each of Dean’s hands and feet to the bedposts. When he was satisfied, he climbed on the bed too, working his way up Dean’s body from underneath until they were laying pressed against one another, Dean’s weight and the pull of the handcuffs effectively pinning Castiel down.



They stared at each other for a moment, and then they came together simultaneously, their bodies crashing against each other as much as possible under Dean’s restraints. Castiel worked the condom onto himself, and then squirted a generous amount of lube onto his hands. He then worked it into his penis, and began touching Dean, probing his fingers in to where Dean would yield. His fingers moved expertly, having done this so many times by now, and Dean was trembling against him, moaning incoherently into his ear all too quickly.

‘Cas, Cas, please. Please.’ Dean whimpered into his ear. He removed his fingers and shifted underneath Dean, lining himself up and slowly penetrating the man he loved. Dean groaned loudly, eyes fixated on Castiel’s, and they stared at each other as they built up a rhythm, Castiel working hard to get fully into Dean, his body curving around his lover’s, and they became lost in the slap of their bodies against each other, the ache in their muscles from the activity, and the depth of each other’s eyes. Eventually, Castiel laid back, Dean’s body heavy and fulfilled on top of him as he fell out of Dean. They laid together as their breathing settled, and their bodies came down from the high.

’There wasn’t much foreplay there,’ Dean said eventually. ‘Are you okay, Cas?’

They usually lasted out much longer than that, but Castiel had been just as desperate for that as Dean had.

‘I’m fine Dean. Sorry if I disappointed you.’

‘You didn’t. Baby, I’m just concerned. Are you really tired?’


‘Okay, uncuff me, and we’ll just hug, okay?’

Dean kissed him clumsily on the cheek, and Castiel wriggled his way back out from underneath Dean, undoing all the cuffs with their safety button, and climbing back onto the bed, underneath the covers. Dean rubbed his wrists and ankles where the restraints had been, and burrowed down under the blankets with him, his arms circling Castiel and pulling him close.

‘Did I do really badly?’ Castiel asked softly. Dean chuckled.

‘Of course not, babe. But you usually take your sweet time and today you didn’t. I was just worried.’

‘I’ll make it up to you,’ Castiel promised Dean chuckled softly.

‘No worries, Cas, baby. Good night.’

‘Good night.’

‘Love you.’

‘Love you more.’

‘Love you most.’

‘Love you best.’

Castiel snuggled into the crook of Dean’s neck, and Dean began fondling his hair softly, humming as Castiel drifted off to sleep.

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