Chapter Text
“I am presently experiencing life at a rate of several WTF’s per hour,” Dean muttered to Benny Lafitte, the manager of the Lawrence, Kansas location of Winchester Motor Company. He loosened the red, silk tie and slumped against the wall of the large bay.
“Sorry to hear that, Boss. Anything going on that I need to know about?” Benny had been applying tape around the trim of a ’70 Gran Torino to get it ready for the paint booth, but he straightened to look at his boss.
“No. Just a long week of meetings, an interview with Hot Rod magazine and a photo shoot with a bunch of models at the LA location. I’m just fuckin’ tired.” Dean looked at the car longingly. When was the last time he got to get his hands dirty? Four…no, five months ago.
“A bunch of models, huh? Life must be fuckin’ hard for you,” Benny said sarcastically. The big man shook his head and bent over to finish applying the tape.
“I would have gladly let you take my place.” And Dean meant it. His love life was a revolving door of pretty women. He’d always been lucky with the ladies, but after WMC opened its third, then fourth location, he became a hot commodity. He knew he was a good looking man, he was told often enough, but these days, the women were after his money. Was it too much to ask for someone who liked being with him just because he’s Dean and not the CEO of one of the most prestigious automotive restoration companies in the country?
“Maybe next time,” Benny replied. Dean pushed off the wall and wandered out of the bay. When he got to the office, he poked his head in. Charlie, the assistant manager, sat at her desk chatting on her phone.
“I love you too,” she said into the phone and Dean knew Charlie must be talking to her girlfriend, Cecilie. Cecilie Rasmussen also worked for WMC, but in the main office as Dean’s secretary. The two women were coming up on their second year together. Dean felt a stab of jealousy. Not that he wanted to settle down… “Hey, Babe, the boss is here and he’s scowling. I need to go. See you tonight.
“I was not scowling.”
Charlie looked at him balefully. “Dude, you are sitting on a throne of lies.”
Dean smirked at her. Very few of his employees could talk to him like that. Charlie wasn’t just someone on the payroll though, she was one of his best friends. “Just a rough week. I think I need a drink or maybe two. Will you and Cecilie come with me?”
“No can do. We are heading over to Topeka tonight for the Fall Out Boy concert.”
Dean walked out of the garage and got into the Impala…his baby. She was the car that started it all. When his father left town not long after Dean’s mother died, all he left his oldest son was a beat up ’67 Impala. With the help of his Uncle Bobby, Dean restored the sleek, black car to her former glory. A few times Dean didn’t have money for food and almost had to sell her, but he always found a way to feed his younger brother, put a roof of their heads and later, put Sam through college. He was ashamed of what he had to do to get the money. Sam never knew…no one did. He thanked God and all that was holy those days were behind him.
He drove over to the small office building that housed the home offices of WMC. Cecilie looked up from her desk and gave him a warm smile. “You have a few messages.”
“Anything that can’t wait until Monday?” He watched the cute brunette thumbing through the small pile of pink message slips.
“Not really.”
“Awesome. Just toss them on my desk. I’m going to head out early.” Dean turned to leave, but stopped and turned. “Hey, Cecilie, finish up what you’re doing and take off. You and Charlie drive safe okay and if you’re drinking tonight, get a room and put it on the company credit card.”
“Thanks, Dean.”
Dean headed to his house to fix something to eat and then change. He knew Sam couldn’t go out since Jess’ parents were in town to discuss wedding plans, so he’d just go out by himself.
***
Castiel Novak pushed the case files across his desk with a sigh. He rubbed his eyes. Contract law could be so boring, but it made the firm a ton of money. Contract law kept him out of the courtroom too. Castiel wasn’t a people person. Hadn’t been for a long time. Not since Meg’s death.
He leaned back in his chair and watched the slideshow flash by on his screen. Jimmy, his son, was featured in every picture that scrolled by. He looked so much like Meg, but his eyes were just like his father’s. Jimmy was away at camp. It was the first time the five year old had been away from Castiel. Jimmy was having a ball at the small summer camp. Unfortunately, Castiel was having a hard time. The house was too quiet.
At five o’clock, the office staff started thinning out. It was Friday after all. Castiel stayed until after eight. There wasn’t a reason to go home. Castiel pulled on his trenchcoat, even though it was seventy degrees outside, and left the office.
He found himself at The Stable. It was a discreet gay bar on the west side of town. As the name alluded to, it was a place where a man could pay for a night of sex without any strings. Castiel didn’t want strings. He had Jimmy to think of. He wanted some stress relief, that’s all.
Castiel sat at the bar, tipping back his third shot of tequila. The men offering themselves were not appealing to him tonight. He asked for his tab. He would just go home. He’d pull up some porn, jack off and it would take the edge off.
Meg would have scolded him if she were still alive. He missed her. Meg had been his friend…his confidant…and later, the mother of his child. That one drunken night had changed his life forever. When Meg had told him she was pregnant with his child, Castiel had laughed. He’d joked about Immaculate Conception. Then Meg reminded him of that night. Meg had just been dumped and was depressed. Castiel brought her ice cream, tequila and comfort.
He’d told Ray, the captain of the cheerleading squad at Boston College and his boyfriend at the time, about the baby and suddenly, Castiel was the one who was dumped and depressed. He married Meg out of a sense of duty. Jimmy was born and they had a good life. Meg’s worked as an editor for the Boston Herald and Castiel was an associate in a huge law firm. Meg and Castiel never slept together again after the night their child was conceived. He had a few men that kept him satisfied and Meg has a few men as well.
The day Castiel was offered a full partnership, Meg was coming home from a night out with one of her ‘friends’. She’d been drinking. He never got to celebrate his good news with her. It turned out that Meg had several life insurance policies and had made a few investments. Castiel turned down the job, packed up the apartment and moved to Lawrence, Kansas. Why Lawrence? His friend, Balthazar had just started his own firm there.
Castiel dragged his mind out of the past when the bartender put the tab in front of him. He looked up at movement beside him and saw the stranger sit down. The beautiful stranger. Short brown hair, a scruffy face, tall. He was dressed in jeans, a plain black t-shirt and work boots. Definitely not a buyer. Maybe Castiel would stay for a few more minutes after all.
He motioned for the bartender to put the man’s order on his tab. He watched the bartender pour a whiskey neat and put it in front of the other man. The bartender spoke to him and pointed to Castiel. The corner of the man’s mouth lifted and he saluted Castiel with his drink. He shot the amber liquid down and Castiel watched in fascination as his Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed his drink. He stood and approached Castiel.
“Thanks for the drink.” He had a rich baritone that made Castiel think of smooth Kentucky bourbon.
“You are very welcome.” The man had the same reaction most did at Castiel’s voice. The deep, gravelly sound should have belonged to a much bigger man…though Castiel wasn’t small. He was six feet tall with a runner’s taut body.
“You come here often?” Just as the words left his mouth, the man groaned. “Sorry, worst pick up line ever.”
“Are you trying to pick me up?” Castiel mind was already on the things he wanted to do to that gorgeous mouth.
“Sure.”
***
The man was drop dead gorgeous. Messy, dark brown hair and God, those eyes. Those eyes alone could make Dean forget his shitty week. He looked to be about Dean’s age, maybe a year or two older.
Dean wasn’t sure what made him come to The Stable. The place held a lot of bad memories. That year he sold his body to pay for Sam’s first year of college... The full ride scholarship was great, but it didn’t pay for the apartment he needed out in California, the living expenses, the old used car. His job at Bobby’s garage didn’t come close to covering all the bills.
The one thing about The Stable though…you could always find an easy lay. Dean would really enjoy a round or two with this man.
“How much for the whole night?”
Dean stared uncomprehendingly for a few seconds. How much? Whoa. The guy thought he was for sale. Seriously? He was the fuckin’ CEO of Winchester Motor Company. Last year, he brought down three million dollars. He was about to tell the guy to go fuck himself, but there was something about the man’s eyes. Sure, they were beautiful to look at…a silvery blue that seemed to radiate heat…but there was something else there. Something…loneliness…sadness…
“How much do you think I’m worth?”
“Five hundred for the night enough?” Five hundred…for a night? The price of sex must have gone up. Dean used to get a hundred and fifty for a night.
“Seems fair. Your place?” Dean knew the drill. Never invite the john back to your house. Let ‘em spring for a hotel room or for the quick shit, their car…never in Baby.
“I’ll get a room. The Fairmont okay?” The Fairmont was an older hotel a block west of the bar. It was high priced because of its historical value. Dean was impressed. He expected the Best Western off the interstate.
“That’s cool.”
“I will go check in. Meet me by the elevators.” In control. Dean liked that in a man. Dean watched as he slid his credit card across the bar. The bartender processed it and handed it back with a slip of paper. The man signed it with a flourish and stood up. He placed a trenchcoat over his arm and left the bar. Dean gave him a few minutes and followed.
The lobby of the hotel was done in late century furnishings and Dean felt out of place in his jeans. His ‘client’ was wearing a suit and tie. They entered the ancient elevator and rode it up to the sixth floor. He used an old fashioned key to enter the room. No electronic key cards for this old girl. Dean followed him in.
He put five one hundred dollar bills on the dresser. Dean acknowledged them with a nod. “Is there anything you won’t do?”
Dean remembered his standard list. “No kissing, no water sports, no marking, no bareback.”
“Understood.” Dean watched him hang his coat in the closet and loosen his tie. His eyes never left Dean’s. Dean found it both exciting and disconcerting. “Take off your clothes, please.”
Please? Dean pulled his shirt off and tossed it on a chair. He sat down and untied his boots, toeing them off along with his socks. He stood and unbuckled his belt and without any fanfare, pulled his jeans and boxer briefs down. Those he left on the floor. Dean wasn’t embarrassed at being in the nude. He had a decent body. He stood there, smug in the knowledge that the man found him attractive if the darkening of his eyes were anything to go by.
“You are very beautiful.” The way the guy spoke was a bit…strange. Perfect pronunciation…like a college professor or something.
“Thanks.” Dean saw the man’s hand rub against his crotch. Yeah, he was getting worked up. Time to play. Dean found himself enjoying the ruse. He’d never have to turn tricks again, but pretending like this was something of a turn on. His own cock was starting to lengthen.
“Please get on your knees.” Again with the ‘please’. Hell, the guy was paying for a service. No need to be that polite. He was unzipping his fly and Dean moved closer, lowering himself to the floor. He pulled his cock out and Dean’s eyes widened a little. He was hung, that was for sure. Dean’s own cock was nice, average length, but thick. This guy was at least an inch longer. Dean licked his lips and went to work.
Dean’s right hand worked the man’s nut sac, while his left held the base of the john’s cock, holding it steady while he sucked. The man was making small noises and when Dean looked up, his eyes were closed. Most johns liked to watch. Strange that this one didn’t.
“Stop…stop…” Dean obeyed and leaned back, ass resting on his heels. Dean looked up. The man’s blue eyes were open now. “Hands and knees…on the bed.”
Dean turned so the man didn’t see his smug smile. Yep, Dean Winchester still had it. It was nice to know the stoic man was getting into it. Dean crawled on the bed, presenting his ass. Dean hadn’t been fucked since…since…a vacation in Cancun two years ago. He’d gone with Sam and Jess. The younger Italian man was very nice to look at and he really knew how to fuck. Dean spent more time in Antonio’s hotel room than his own.
Blue Eyes was prepared. Dean heard the top pop off of the small sample sized lube and a moment later, felt the cool gel on his ass. Dean relaxed and let the man open him up. Dean moaned and squeezed his balls. “Feels good.”
He had three fingers inside of Dean now. He was working them in and out. Blue Eyes knew what he was doing. He’d brush against Dean’s prostate slightly, just enough to make Dean moan with pleasure…just enough to tease.
“Fuck me, Man. Hurry and fuck me.”
Dean heard the sound of a foil packet being opened. Those wet, talented fingers didn’t relent…didn’t stop moving…it felt so good. Dean’s hips were rolling back and forth, drawing the fingers in deeper…wanting the friction…wanting to feel them on that magic spot. Then they were gone. Dean groaned, his hips still moving…seeking…
“Ohhh, fuck.” Dean felt the tight muscle stretching even more to accommodate the other man’s dick. He winced a little…the pressure and the slight burn as his body adjusted. He was inside of Dean now. All of him…every glorious inch was buried deep inside. “Move…fuck me…fuck me…”
The pace was fast and hard. Dean was close. His hand worked his cock and the sounds of the man’s balls slapping against his thighs was so fuckin’ hot. Both men were panting, chasing release. Dean came first with a loud cry. He continued to pull on his cock, drawing every drop of cum from his slit. With a soft grunt, the man emptied himself into Dean. He was still and Dean could feel the pulse of his cock.
Blue Eyes slowly pulled out and Dean felt the bed move as the man rolled off of it. Dean collapsed to his stomach and turned. The other man’s legs were not steady, but he pulled up his boxers and made his way to the bathroom and Dean heard the splash of the condom in the toilet followed by a flush.
“Thank you.” Dean’s eyes had been well on their way to being closed, but with those words, they popped open. No one…not ever…had thanked him for sex before.
“You’re welcome?” Dean didn’t know what else to say, so it sounded like a question.
“Would you care for some water? I believe there is bottled water in the mini-fridge.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched the guy bend down and grab two bottles of water out of the fridge. He walked to the bed and handed one to Dean. Dean rolled over on his back and unscrewed the top.
Dean wasn’t sure about protocol in a situation like this. If this was sex after a date, he’d make small talk and then think of an excuse to leave. In his past, after someone paid him for sex, he’d start dressing after the guy got off, take his money and leave. This wasn’t technically paid sex…he wasn’t taking the money.
Blue Eyes stretched out on the other side of the king bed and closed his eyes. Dean drank the rest of his water and sat the empty bottle on the nightstand. Soft snores reached his ears. Damn, the guy was trusting. Dean knew where the man’s wallet was. He shook his head.
Quietly, he dressed and left the room. The crisp bills sat untouched on the dresser.
***
Castiel woke with a start. Where was he? Then he relaxed down on the pillow. He remembered the green eyed man…the sex…those captivating freckles. Normally, when he bought men for the night, he turned off the lights, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it last night. He knew without even looking that the man was gone. They usually were.
He was too trusting. Falling asleep next to someone who sold their body to the highest bidder wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but Castiel was very good at slight-of-hand. His wallet wasn’t tucked into his pants, it was under his pillow. His fingertips brushed against the leather. Still there.
The first thing he wanted was a shower. He used the hotel’s complimentary shampoo, soap and conditioner. After he dried off, he took the sample sized tube of toothpaste and brushed his teeth with his finger. He’d do a better job when he got home. He dressed in the same clothes and was turning to get his coat out of the closet when he saw the money. He frowned. Tentatively, he touched the stacked bills.
He was still trying to figure out the mystery later that night while sitting in his recliner. The book on his lap forgotten. By Sunday evening, Castiel had put the strange encounter out of his mind…or so he tried to tell himself. The green eyed man haunted his thoughts. He was even tempted to go to The Stable and see if he could find him again, but a call from his brother kept him at home. Michael, a doctor still living in Boston, called to check up on him and fill him in on their mother’s failing health. Castiel didn’t care if the woman died. If that made him a cold bastard, so be it.
Naomi Novak wasn’t happy to have another child after her three other sons were in their early teens. Castiel was an accident after an encounter with a musician. She couldn’t pass Castiel’s dark looks and blue eyes off on her husband, Alistair. The rich businessman left her, taking his three sons with him. Penniless, Naomi blamed Castiel for her problems. She moved from man to man until she ‘found’ religion when Castiel was seven. Castiel’s young life was wrought with beatings in the name of her god. In his teens, she caught him with another boy and the beating was so violent he wound up in the hospital. Michael, who was out of medical school, was working at the ER that night. Castiel never returned to Naomi’s house. Michael put him through college and the rest was history.
Castiel’s work week was busy, but the days dragged. He was looking forward to Friday afternoon when he could pick up his son. The green eyed stranger’s memory was tucked away.
Jimmy was excited to see him and chattered all the way home. Castiel’s routine could get back to normal. Work, come home to Jimmy and his nanny, eat dinner with his child and then bed. Balthazar told him his life was in a rut. Maybe so, but it was his rut and he was happy…happy enough.
Monday morning brought thunderstorms. The rain pelted down causing traffic to become a nightmare. Castiel was just a block from the office when a large pickup slid through the red light and clipped his bumper. Castiel’s car spun around and came to rest against another car. Shaken up, but not hurt, Castiel got out of the car and checked on the other drivers. Pickup truck guy hit his head pretty good on his wide window, but looked okay. The driver of the car Castiel hit was just upset about being late for work. Finally, Castiel turned back to his car…and groaned. His mint condition ’65 Corvette convertible was banged up pretty bad. He ran his hand along the rear quarter panel and winced at the depth of the dent. The passenger side front fender was a total loss. She was drivable though.
An hour and twenty minutes later, Castiel pulled into his parking spot. He had the police report to file with his insurance company, but no idea where to take his precious girl. She was the only thing besides Jimmy that he loved.