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Dean wiped a flour-coated hand across his forehead,frantically whisking a bowl of cupcake batter. It wasn't prep for the next day's wares at the bakery he owned with Benny – that had been taken care of first, thanks to the nagging sense of protectiveness over his recipes and pride in making things easy for the other staff members – but a special mini batch for Cas, tailored not only to his palate, but to his staunch love of bees. The herbs he'd used in the batter were common in bee gardens, and rather than using sugar, he'd sweetened both batter and frosting with responsibly-sourced honey from an apiary that Cas loved to visit.
By the time the cupcakes were in the oven, Dean knew he was going to be late. Being punctual was one of life's simple pleasures, and one of his personal favorites, but he'd gotten caught up in rolling and painting perfect fat marzipan bumblebees to top the cupcakes. He carefully slid them into the industrial freezer, anxiously pacing the kitchen for the next fifteen minutes with a steel bowl of Italian meringue clutched to his chest as he beat it into a fluffy, delicious heap. Once the cupcakes were cooled enough that they wouldn't melt the frosting, he spooned the meringue into a piping bag with a wide star tip, swirled it into the pale gold rosettes he'd been practicing just for this occasion, and toasted the frosting just enough to give its ridges a caramelized golden crust. He carefully placed the almond paste bees on the center of the cakes, fitted them into a styrofoam clamshell so that they wouldn't slide around and be ruined, and took off in his Impala.
There was a series of free concerts in the park all summer, and tonight's performer was an artist that Cas had become enamored with a few months ago. Unfortunately, the band shell was on the far side of the park, and Dean had to sprint to get to Cas before the first song began.
It was already getting dark, and though there were few people on the footpaths, it still took a while for Dean to find the exact park bench opposite the band shell that Cas had chosen for the evening – removed from the crowd, “for comfort's sake” he'd said, but close enough to still enjoy the music.
That, in and of itself, was suspicious; while Cas wasn't the greatest at interacting with other people, he loved being around them. Humanity, he often said, was precious, and he liked being surrounded by throngs of something so special. Dean thought that Cas was special enough on his own.
Cas was seated on the very edge of the wooden bench, sweating water bottle pressed against the vast swath of bare thigh revealed by his skirt bunching at his hips. His brawny arms were folded neatly in his lap, fingers interlaced, as he listened to the singer talk to the crowd. As Dean approached, a little out of breath, Cas turned and grinned widely, patting the empty seat beside him. “Hello, Dean.”
“Sorry I'm late. I, um. I made you something.” Dean's cheeks burned, concealed in the half-darkness, as he presented Cas with the takeout container he'd brought with him.
“Did you bake for me, baby?” Cas asked, blue eyes twinkling as he took the box out of Dean's hands an inhaled deeply.
Dean shrugged, staring at his toes. He and Cas had known each other for decades, had been dating for years, but Dean still turned into a bumbling, blushing buffoon around him. “It's your favorite. Lavender thyme pound cake with honey Italian meringue.”
Cas popped the box open, revealing four perfect little cakes. Every detail was perfect, despite the rough ride over; the bees' wings even shone dimly, brushed with pearlescent luster dust. “Dean, they're perfect.” He reached out and grabbed Dean's hand, tugging him onto the bench and kissing his cheek. “My good boy.”
Dean squirmed, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. His hand came away sweaty. “I – I mean, they're nothin' special.”
“Yes, they are. Now, hush. The concert's about to start.” Cas pulled a cupcake out of the box, squinting at it for a moment as if trying to memorize every detail before peeling the black and yellow striped paper off and taking a big bite, humming in satisfaction.
Dean knew that sound. That was Cas' really good blowjob hum. His brand new dildo hum. His Dean in panties hum.
There was no way he knew Dean had worn panties that day, right?
So Dean shook it off, tucking himself into Cas' side, breathing in the scent of his skin. It was too dark for anyone to see, and therefore be annoyed by, any PDA, so he didn't make any effort to restrain his inner cuddlebug, going so far as to purr softly when Cas stroked his hair, eyes fluttering shut.
They made it four and a half songs in before Cas plucked Dean's hand off of his waist and settled it in his lap.
Dean's eyes widened. The skirt was one thing – practically commonplace with Cas, who gave less than zero shits about gender roles – but Cas never went commando. He might look a little rough around the edges, with the stubbly jaw and the numerous facial piercings and the blue hair that could be found in a mohawk more often than not, but he was almost as much of a neat freak as Dean was. Going commando was “unsanitary;” Dean wholeheartedly agreed.
But now, Cas' hard, hot cock in his hand, wet chapped lips against his neck, Dean was 100% willing to say screw sanitary and drop to his knees right there. Hell, the thought of it was getting to him – Dean could see himself, kneeling between Cas' thick thighs, head bobbing, strong fingers tangled in his hair.
The image alone made his cock twitch in his jeans, pressing into his zipper, and he let out a breathless whimper. “What do you want me to do?” Dean asked, voice soft, reverent. His mouth watered.
“Just touch. Don't try to get me off just yet, baby. We've got a good long while before anyone comes our way; take your time,” Cas murmured, words vibrating against Dean's skin.
“Yessir.” Dean thumbed his cockhead, smearing precum down Cas' shaft to ease the slide of his hand and keep it from being too rough.
Another three songs passed, Dean looking straight ahead (despite the instinct to stare unblinkingly at Cas' thick length in his hand), shifting in his seat, breath heavy as the slightest friction teased him. As the ninth song started, Cas just barely began moving into Dean's hand, the hand in his hair sliding down his back and into the waistband of his jeans.
“Did you dress up for me, baby?” Cas asked, voice rough and thick, lips against his ear.
Dean whimpered, nodded. “I wanted to be pretty for you, Sir.”
“You're always pretty. My pretty baby boy.” Cas kissed his way up Dean's neck, up his cheek, licking into his mouth and cupping his jaw. “Good thing I came prepared.” He lifted one leg, brazen, hard cock visible as it pressed against his belly and lifted his skirt, and slid into Dean's lap, grinding against him.
“Holy shit,” Dean wheezed. “Sir, c-can I touch?”
Cas, on top of being bare-assed beneath his skirt, had a butt plug in. He nodded, so Dean took the liberty of feeling around the edges, fingers sliding through the lube smeared around Cas' rim, realizing just how hard his own cock was.
“You wanna fuck me, baby?” Cas asked, palming Dean through his jeans, grinding back against him so that his nicely rounded ass added to the torture. “Right here, right now, where anyone could see?”
Dean nodded, chest heaving, breath coming hard and fast already. “Please. Please?”
“So eager,” Cas teased, beaming. Deftly, he undid Dean's fly and slid his hand down the curve of his cock, feeling the stickiness at the head where Dean had been leaking for a solid ten minutes. “My dirty boy.”
Dean bit his lip, hiding his face in Cas' shoulder. “Please...”
“Of course you may. Get in me. You're going to fill me up just right, baby, and I'm gonna ride that pretty little cock until every inch of you is begging to cum, screaming, just for me.”
Dean whined, heart pounding in his chest, and pressed a thankful kiss to Cas' sweaty skin, carefully pulling his cock out of his silky green panties. “Condom or no, Sir?”
“Condom.”
“Yessir.” Dean shifted just enough to pull a condom packet out of his back pocket, quickly sliding the lubed latex sheath down his length before gently gripping Cas' hips beneath his skirt.
Cas reached back and worked the plug out, setting it into the now empty clamshell and snapping it shut to keep the toy as clean as possible; dirt or grit or dust, whatever happened to float through the air outdoors, was hell to wash off once it got stuck in lube. He sat up on his knees, flipping his skirt up in the back and gripping the base of Dean's cock, sinking down at a torturous pace just to hear Dean's breathing stutter as he tried to restrain himself. “My good boy,” he cooed, twisting to look over his shoulder and kissing the tip of Dean's nose. “Now fuck me, nice and hard.”
Dean, as always, obeyed, planting his feet for leverage and rolling his hips up into Cas, relishing the feel of his full ass and meaty thighs through his jeans. He shifted Cas' weight into one hand, the other wrapping around his cock and stroking him, just barely out of rhythm with his thrusts, huffing out shaky, needy breaths.
“Sweet boy, so good to me... Filling me up just right. That's it, baby, there you go, just like that...” Cas reached back, laying his hands on the tops of Dean's thighs, blue-black fingernails digging into his skin as he murmured praise and filth in equal measure. “C'mon, baby, you can do better than that. Fuck me deeper. Make us both feel good, I know you can, baby. You're doing so – fuck – so well, keep going.”
Dean nodded, working himself further in with each thrust. The music changed, bass a little heavier, melody dreamy and languorous, and he found himself falling into tempo, hips undulating up into Cas slow and deep, kissing the powerful muscles of his back as they rolled beneath his golden skin.
As the chorus came along, Cas' breathing changed, and he tightened around Dean, working tiny whimpers out of him. Through the next verses, he managed to get himself back under control, and when the chorus came around once more, he sang along, voice rough and smoky:
“I... I prefer your love... to Jesus...”
Dean whined, gripping him tighter, and bit down on the strap of Cas' tank top, eyes squeezed shut.
“That's my good boy, there we go,” Cas grunted, taking the power completely out of Dean's hands, riding him with growing enthusiasm, hands on his knees, squeezing. “That's it, baby. Nice and deep. Too bad you're wearing a condom... I could walk home with your come inside me.”
Dean whimpered, sweaty forehead pressed to Cas' back, arms wrapped around his waist.
“You like that? Huh?” Cas clenched down tighter, circling his hips, working over Dean faster and rougher. “Want to keep your come in me? Dirty, dirty boy.”
“Uh-huh... uh-huh... Y-yessir...”
“You know I like that, don't you, baby? Well, since you're being so good to me, when we get home, I'll tie you down – ”
Dean swallowed thickly, balls tightening, mouth dry.
“ – work you over real slow – ”
Dean's breath came in shaky, shallow pants.
“ – and when you cum – ”
A soft moan, mouth clamped shut – hnnn.
“ – I'll be sitting on your pretty cock, and I'll keep your cum in me all night long.”
Dean's fingers dug into Cas' sides, barely restraining himself from cumming, and he let out a long, quiet keen, trembling.
“Baby – baby, touch me. C'mon, almost there. Make me come.” Cas reached back, stroking the nape of Dean's neck, feeling the grittiness of a smear of flour at the base of his skull. “Make me come, Dean, 'm close, just do it.”
Dean's hands slid in opposite directions – one up to Cas' chest, tugging ever so gently at one of his pierced nipples; the other back down to his cock, working faster, rougher, wetter, swiping precum off the head and down the shaft with his thumb – and he clenched his teeth, sharp huffs slipping out of his nose.
It took a moment, but soon enough, Cas came, head thrown back, silent, thanks to Dean twisting one barbell and barely running the edge of his thumbnail down the length of his shaft. He squeezed down on Dean's cock, and Dean let go, helpless to stop himself, letting out a low, sweet moan into Cas' neck, sinking his teeth into the smooth skin to muffle the noise.
They sat there, catching their breath, pressing lazy tender kisses into each other's skin, until the last song ended. Cas slid his feet out from under him, letting them fall to the ground, and pulled off of Dean, tucking his skirt under his butt and sitting down next to him; Dean, loose and beaming, tied off the condom, fumbled his dick back into his panties and zipped his jeans, wrapping his arms around Cas and nuzzling his throat.
“My good boy,” Cas murmured, stroking his hair and kissing his sweaty temple. “Such a good boy.”
Another few minutes passed, and Cas stood up, tugging Dean onto his feet despite his token resistance and theatrical groan. Dean resumed cuddling into Cas' side, arms wrapped around his waist; Cas rubbed his back and looped an arm around Dean's shoulders. They meandered down the footpath, revelling in their shared body heat in spite of the muggy summer air. The clamshell dangling from Cas' free hand rattled along next to his hip, and they both stifled a laugh.