Chapter 5

Ethan sends Dean home after a shower. He doesn't complain. He's exhausted, after a long week of work and building up to go back to the bar, of late nights and sweeping, sudden shifts in his own world-view...

The shower only solidifies his new feelings. Wet, soapy and slick, light-headed from the hot water, pressed against the cold tile as Ethan jerks him off from behind. Dean begged for it.

Ethan's cock was hard, slid between his thighs. Ethan thrust against his balls as he jerked Dean's cock, his body a heavy weight pressing in.

"Fuck me," Dean begged. "Please, need you to fuck me." He'd never felt so helpless, so out of control. Spread his legs, inviting, but Ethan just kicked them back together and fucked the apex of his thighs.

"I'm going to," Ethan said. "I'm going to fuck you, Dean. Lick you open then fill you with my cock. Gonna do it slow, and when I'm finally inside you, oh god, Dean. I'm gonna want to stay there forever, gonna be so hot and so tight and—"

Dean came all over the cold tile wall, Ethan wasn't far behind, then Dean's thighs were slick and sticky with Ethan's semen, and his knees would have gone out from under him if Ethan hadn't held him up.

Dean can't shake it, keeps replaying it in his head as he sits behind the wheel of the Impala, the engine still ticking as it cools. The lights are off inside, and it's 3am, and Sam's sleeping, but Dean's waiting before he goes in.

As if another minute will allow him to compile and process all the new information. Like he can look at his own feelings, reactions, and make sense of it.

How could he not know he was bisexual, for a start. He doesn't care that he is, he's not trying to deny it or suppress it. He just can't figure out how he didn't have any indication he'd get off on sucking cock, how he'd beg to be fucked.

Ethan's promise replays in his mind again.

gonna lick you open and fill you with my cock

There's no way Dean's going to be able to sleep.

---

"So it's parent teacher night the week after next," Sam says, through a mouthful of cereal. "You know how Dad always used to blow those off?"

Dean snorts. "Yeah. That was always fine with me." He drops his spoon into his bowl and looks up. "You want me to come, Sammy?"

Sam blinks. "Actually, I was gonna tell them Dad had to work." He shakes his head. "I haven't told the school he's not around anymore."

"Well, you tell them, Sammy. And you tell them I'll be there." He picks his spoon up again, slurps milk off of it. "What are you up to today?"

Sam crunches his breakfast, swallows. "It's Saturday, Dean. I always go to the library. You know that."

"Yeah, you really need some friends, kid. Or a girlfriend. You're doing teenager wrong." He grins when Sam sticks out his tongue. "I'm gonna call Ethan." His face gets warm. "See if he wants to do something. You'll be okay on your own tonight?"

"Yep. Just keep your details to yourself." He smirks. "Do I have to give you the safe sex speech?" He narrows his eyes. "Or is it already too late for that?"

"Bite me," Dean says, hiding his face to cover up the blush.

---

Ethan opens the door, pulls Dean inside, and he kisses him before either of them say a word. It's soft and slow and almost chaste, but Ethan's hand is warm and possessive on the back of Dean's neck, and he likes it.

He really, really likes it.

Ethan pulls away first. "Just let me tidy up, and I'm all yours. There's beer in the fridge if you want it."

Dean stands at the kitchen island, watches as Ethan scoops the scattered papers off the coffee table into a pile, knocks the bottom edge of the pile on the table to line them up, and tucks them into a briefcase. "Working on the weekend?"

Ethan grins up at him and shrugs. "It never ends."

Dean doesn't say anything else about it. He's woefully ignorant of any kind of job that takes place behind a desk and consists of shuffling paper from one place to another, and he's happy to keep that ignorance to himself.

Ethan slides the briefcase beneath the couch, then he joins Dean in the kitchen. "I'm all yours," he says, and takes the beer out of Dean's hand, holds it to his own lips and drinks.

"You remember when I said I'd fight you for that beer?"

Ethan's eyes sparkle. "I want you sober."

Dean snorts. "One beer isn't going to—"

Ethan puts the beer down on the counter, and he takes Dean's face in his hands, shuts him up with another kiss.

It starts like the last one, gentle, almost innocent, then Ethan's tongue traces the seam of Dean's lips. He opens on a sigh, and then, the beer all but forgotten, presses his hands to Ethan's chest.

As Ethan's tongue explores the inside of Dean's mouth, Dean can't stop thinking about what might—what Dean hopes will—happen tonight. Ethan's desperate, lust-fueled words last night in the shower felt like a promise, and he 'wants Dean sober'.

In the shower before he came here, Dean got his fingers slippery with soap, managed to get two inside himself up to the second knuckle before he came into his other hand.

It was a revelation.

In bars and roadhouses across the country, Dean's heard guys joke about and disparage men who 'take it up the ass'. He's grown up with it, it was normal. Those men were supposed to be weak, they were supposed to be cowards, but Dean can't imagine a weak man trusting someone enough to be that vulnerable with them.

Dean's strong. He knows he is. Sometimes he's afraid, but he's no coward.

He breaks the kiss, rests his forehead on Ethan's shoulder, pants as he catches his breath.

Ethan's hands slide over his back, up the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. "You okay?"

Dean turns his head, looks up, and he smiles. "Yeah." He pauses, takes a breath, and he lets it out slow. "What's it like?"

Ethan's brows draw down in confusion and he shakes his head.

Dean's heart is pounding, but it's excitement, not fear. "Having someone inside you," he breathes. "How does it feel?"

Ethan's face shifts to concern. "Dean. We don't have to—"

"I'm not scared," Dean says. "I want it. But I want to know what to expect." He grins. "I don't like surprises."

Ethan smiles. "It's good." He smiles wider at Dean's eye-roll. "It can be intense," he says. "Especially your first time." He pauses for a breath. "And it can hurt, at first, but it passes. Then it's just—" The sound he makes sends a twist to Dean's belly, makes Dean's cock jerk in his jeans. "It's better if you're with someone you care about." Ethan blinks, and his cheeks color, and he looks away. "I think so, anyway."

"Good," Dean says, his fingers twisting into the back of Ethan's shirt. His throat locks up, and he's got to hide his own face, and he feels vulnerable.

Ethan drops kisses into his hair. "Sometimes," he says, "you can't think. Can't talk. Can't even breathe. Coming while you're being fucked can be amazing." His hand on Dean's head, guides him to lift it, to look up. "Have you ever—" He lifts his eyebrows in question. "Have you ever used your fingers?"

Dean almost chokes on his tongue. "Not before today," he rasps.

Ethan makes that sound again, and then he kisses Dean, hard. "You did that today?" He kisses him again, deep and passionate. "And?"

Dean grunts, and he unconsciously spreads his feet apart. "Came so hard I'm pretty sure I went blind for a second." He moans and wraps his arms around Ethan's shoulders, tips his chin up for another kiss.

Ethan's hands slide down his back, over his ass. Large hands spread, squeeze, pulling Dean close, bringing their hard cocks together through their pants.

Then Ethan moves, unfastens Dean's jeans at the front, but he doesn't grab his cock, instead he puts both hands down the back of Dean's jeans, beneath his boxers, warm hands over bare skin, and Dean spreads his feet further, groans into Ethan's mouth as he grinds against him.

Then Ethan's hands are spreading him open, fingers in the crack of his ass, fingertip sliding over his hole, pressure without breaching.

Dean grunts and jerks, like his body wants to thrust forward and push back all at once. "Now," he growls. "I want you to do it. Now."

Ethan pulls back, hands sliding out of Dean's jeans, and he looks down at Dean, breathing hard. Then he nods, once. "Yeah. Get your ass into the bedroom."

---

Dean doesn't even make it through the door before Ethan's tugging at his clothes, peeling off his shirt, grabbing him, kissing him again.

Dean has to shove him off. He crashes through the bedroom door, and he stands and drops everything. Shirt. Jeans. Boots. Socks. Boxers.

He stands there naked, and then he lifts an eyebrow. "I can't do this on my own, man."

Ethan was staring. His shirt's half unbuttoned, and he's got one shoe kicked off. He goes back into action, shaking his head, and he strips quickly.

He crosses the space between them with two long strides, backs Dean up against the bed. "Turn around," he says, and then lifts his own eyebrow.

There's just a tiny tickle of apprehension as Dean turns to face the bed. "We gotta use a rubber," he says.

"In the drawer."

Dean's eyes flick to the bedside table, and he's about to move, about to drop and crawl across the bed to find the stuff they need, but Ethan wraps his arms around Dean's chest and won't let him go.

"Not yet," he says. Then he drops to his knees.

Ethan's lips pressed against one butt cheek punches a breath out of Dean, and Ethan's hands on the inside of his thighs, pressing them apart, and then Ethan's thumbs spreading him open.

Ethan licks into the crease and over Dean's hole and Dean cries out, a sound that's more surprise than anything else.

Ethan slides a hand up Dean's back, puts a little pressure behind it, and Dean folds, puts his hands on the mattress, inches his feet apart.

"That's it," Ethan says, his breath warm over Dean's hole. "That's good, Dean." He licks again, wet and firm. He does it again, and again, a little firmer each time.

Then he points his tongue and wriggles it, like he's trying to get in.

Dean gasps for air, finds himself pushing back against Ethan's face, encouraging him. "Yeah," he chants. "Fuck, yeah."

Ethan's fingers play around his probing tongue, and Dean can't see what's going on, doesn't know what's what or what's where, thinks it's a fingertip that breaches him first, followed by Ethan's tongue and a hum of triumph that vibrates into him, into his balls, makes them twitch up and his cock jerk.

It all becomes a blur, and Dean fists the sheets in his hands and moans and curses while Ethan's tongue slides in, out, fucks Dean's ass all soft and wet. Saliva drips down over his balls, down the inside of his thighs, a brief thought that it's making him wet like a girl, like there's method to what Ethan's doing to him past the fact that it feels amazing.

Ethan proves it when he plunges two fingers deep into Dean, and they go in slick and easy, deeper than Dean could ever reach on his own. "Hold on," Ethan grunts, slowly fucking Dean with his fingers, moving inside, searching. "Hold on, Dean."

Dean drops his shoulders to the mattress. Prostate, he thinks, when Ethan finds it, and everything goes white and he's on fire without burning, and he could just have this, that would be fine, just keep doing it don't stop "don't stop don't stop please"

Then it's gone, and Ethan's tongue is back up his ass, thrusting hard, fucking in, and Ethan's groaning while he's doing it, and Dean catches his breath, sucks in, comforter filling his mouth, puffing out.

Ethan stops, stands up, grabs Dean by the waist and pushes him up onto the bed. Dean crawls, finds a place, hands and knees. Ethan leans past him, opens the drawer.

A foil wrapped condom and a bottle of lube hits the mattress. "Still want this?"

Dean nods, breathing hard. "Fuck, yeah." Ethan's hands slide over his ass, hard cock slides into the crack, over his hole, and Dean shivers. Then it's gone, crack of the bottle cap, squelch of the lube, and then Dean's got two fingers buried in him again, slicker this time, much slicker. Sounds filthy.

Fuck thought, it's all gone. A third finger in him, stretch, burn. Cries out till it fades, spreads his thighs further. His ass is in the air, and he doesn't care.

Rip, and foil flutters to the floor. Dean turns his head to watch as Ethan rolls the rubber down his cock. It's thicker than three fingers. It's gonna burn. Dean wants it.

He's open, empty. He pushes his ass further into the air, spreads his thighs a little wider.

Ethan grunts, like he's in pain, presses the spongy head of his cock against Dean's slick, loose hole. "Gonna be the death of me, kid," he says, and then pushes.

A sudden fullness as Dean's body gives, a burn that fades quick. Ethan's making noise, groaning Dean's name.

Dean looks back, looks up. Finds Ethan's eyes and reaches back to grab his thigh, pull him in, because it's not enough, he's gotta go deeper, go all the way. "Make me feel it," he croaks. "Fuck me."

It doesn't hurt, not yet. The burn isn't pain, just proof that Dean's body is working to let Ethan in. He wants to feel it, the burn alongside the fullness, and he wants Ethan deeper, right up inside him.

"Tell me to stop," Ethan says, as he pushes forward. His hands on Dean's hips, pulling him onto his cock. "It's too much, you tell me to stop."

Dean's groan is a protest, no fucking way is he gonna say it, presses back, meets Ethan in the middle, and inch by inch, Dean's opening inside, there's a reason Ethan's going so slow, Dean's body fights, his insides tensing, and he can feel it, deep in his belly, and then Ethan's hips meet his ass, one more rough pull to make sure he's as deep as he can go.

The sounds Dean makes are like a dying animal, like the wounded werewolf they took down a few months ago, but he can't stop, the vocalization the only way he can deal with the feeling of being pressed open from the inside, like he should be in pain, but he's not, there's just this overwhelming pressure and a kind of twisted pleasure that roils inside him. "Do it, fuck, fuck me." He's raving like a lunatic, twisting and writhing, pumping his hips, back, back.

Ethan covers him, bends down over his back, holds his face and kisses him. "Shhh. You're okay. You feel good, Dean." More kisses Dean can't return. "You're so tight, feel so good."

Slowly, Dean calms. The pressure not so intense, he can form a thought, and his first thought is: how am I ever going to be able to go without this? Now that I know what it's like, how will I ever be able to put it behind me and never feel it again?

He breathes, slow and even. He kisses Ethan back. "Please."

Ethan rights himself, slides his hands back down to Dean's hips, thrusts slow, almost experimental. "Oh, yeah."

Pleasure spreads from deep inside Dean's body, flashes through him like fire. He moans, moves, twisting, pushing back. "More." His throat is hurting, his voice is a rasp. "Fuck me."

Ethan growls, tightens his grip on Dean's hips, pulls out, slow, almost all the way. The head of his cock catches on Dean's rim, then he thrusts back inside. He does it again, a little quicker this time, and again. "You like that?"

Dean grunts on every thrust. "Fuck," he moans. "Yeah. Fuck me."

Ethan's thrusts get quicker, faster. Almost violent.

Then he stops. Pulls out, and Dean cries out with the sudden emptiness. Ethan flips him onto his back, gets his hands behind Dean's knees and pushes them into his chest, and he slides his cock back into Dean easy, but it's all that intensity all over again, and Dean arches up.

Ethan comes down, kisses him again, tiny movements of his hips, thrusts not going as deep, not as hard. "So beautiful, Dean. Feel so good."

Dean just gapes as he rights himself again, and with arms wrapped around Dean's thighs, starts to thrust. Slow and easy this time, almost careful, like he's working for some kind of result, and his face is determined and intent.

Dean realizes why, as Ethan's cock hits him in that place again, the head scraping over Dean's prostate on each thrust.

Dean can't stop moaning, the pleasure that flashes through him, starts inside and spreads over his skin, sparks to the tips of his toes and the tips of his fingers, it never has a chance to truly fade before it starts over again. "Gonna make me come," he cries, as his cock twitches on his belly and he's not even touching it. "Gonna fucking come, I'm gonna come."

Ethan wraps his hand around Dean's cock, and a couple of firm strokes is all it takes, then Dean's coming, hot streaks spurting up his chest as he empties his balls, and his body clamps down on the cock inside him, like he can feel the shape of it in him, and Ethan moans and his hips jerk.

Then there's one hand on his hip, another sliding up his chest, through the mess, and Ethan's thrusts go jerky. "So fucking tight," Ethan grunts. "Your ass feels so good."

Dean can feel it too, his body so tight around Ethan's dick, and it's too much, like when he keeps pulling on his cock for too long after he's come, oversensitive, his body trying to force Ethan out, and he grits his teeth against it.

Then Ethan stills, and it's okay again, and he can feel Ethan coming, feel him twitching, jerking, jumping with every spurt as Ethan's fingers twist the flesh of his chest and dig into the skin over his hip and Ethan lets out a long, drawn out groan.

Then falls forward, still inside, and he kisses him, and it's wet and messy. "So good," Ethan murmurs, and then he pulls out.

He does it slow, fingers clamped to the base of his cock to hold the condom in place. It still makes Dean curl up and moan with something like pain, like something's missing, like losing a limb. "Oh, god," he whimpers, looks up at Ethan like pleading, like a cry for help, like he doesn't understand and Ethan can save him.

Ethan holds Dean's face in his hands, kisses him so gently. "I know," he whispers. "I know, baby. But you're so good. So good."

---

Dean wakes up slow, warm and comfortable. There's an ache, a throbbing, dull pain, but nothing he hasn't woken up to before.

Except for the location. The acute awareness that he got fucked in the ass last night reminds him that he's not bruised from a hunt, and he opens his eyes to Ethan's bedroom instead of a crappy motel or their own crappy little house.

"Morning." Ethan's lips hit the back of Dean's neck, just a quick kiss. "Want coffee? Breakfast? Name it."

"Mmm." Dean squirms onto his back, winces a little as his ass hits the mattress. "Coffee? And breakfast? Sounds good. But first..." He reaches up, pulls Ethan down for a kiss, morning breath and all. "Last night, man. Holy shit."

Ethan closes his eyes and moans, and Dean becomes aware that Ethan's hard against his thigh. He's got his own morning wood to deal with, but Ethan pushes his hips against Dean, like he wants to do something with it. "I knew you were amazing, Dean, but I had no idea. God."

It's all still a bit of a blur to Dean. All still a bit much to process. He knows one thing, though. "I liked it," he says. "Holy shit, man. I loved it."

The grin that spreads over Ethan's face lights up the room. "Yeah?" He dips his head, and he kisses Dean, and it's all tongue and spit. "So did I. You've ruined me for other men, Dean. You're unbelievable."

Dean snorts. "You've ruined me for all women."

Ethan flops onto his back, and he pulls Dean over on top of him. "Good," he says. "I want you all to myself."

It should be a joke. Dean could have read it like that. But the look on Ethan's face is deadly serious, and it makes Dean's heart twist up inside him. He pushes back on Ethan's chest, sits up straddling his hips, and the sheets fall down around him.

They're both still naked from the night before. They're both hard, and Dean looks down, watches as he moves his hips, drags his cock along Ethan's. They both moan, and Dean's head drops back.

Ethan puts his hands on Dean's hips, encourages him, guides him. "Sit on my dick," he murmurs, voice gone thick and husky. "Ride me with those strong legs, Dean." His hands stroke down Dean's thighs, squeeze the tight muscle.

Dean stares down at him for a few moments as he considers it. He's sore, his ass and insides still aching and used. But if he does this, he'll still be able to feel it at work tomorrow, and the idea appeals to him in an oddly perverse way.

And it'll give him a chance to be in control. He felt so out of control last night, so wanton and lost, and he's not used to it. Maybe he can get a little of that back. "Yeah," he says, and lunges for the drawer where Ethan keeps the condoms.

His heart starts pounding, harder and faster, as he rolls the rubber down onto Ethan's dick, gets a handful of lube and slicks it up. Then he bites his lip and reaches back to prepare himself.

He's still got no idea what he's doing, does enough to make sure he's not going to hurt himself too much, and then he lifts himself, slowly sinks down onto Ethan's cock.

See, the beauty of this position, is Dean's in control. His legs are burning, feet planted flat on the mattress, and he's taking a little of his own weight as he presses his hands flat on Ethan's chest, but he can go as slow as he likes.

And he goes slow. Fuck, he aches, right up inside him, but it's a good ache, somehow satisfying. It's going to be all that much stronger tomorrow, when he's sweeping dust out of the corners of the garage and counting inventory.

"Dean." Ethan's hips are jerking, like he wants to thrust right up into Dean, and his voice is strained and strangled. His hands make fists against Dean's belly, and his eyes roll back in his head.

Dean sinks down a bit further, pushes back up again, and he lets himself sink down all the way. "Holy fuck," he groans, because this is deeper than before, than last night, he's sure, and he looks down at his belly, like he should be able to see the outline of Ethan's cock through it. "Just give me a minute."

"Mmmm," Ethan groans, low and guttural. His forehead is all scrunched up, and his eyes are squeezed closed. "Can't even look at you, Jesus."

Dean lets out a short, sharp bark of laughter. "What?"

Ethan slides his hands up Dean's chest, slow, like he's mapping every inch to memory. "So beautiful. It hurts." His voice almost breaks on 'hurts', and he puts his hand over his heart. "Right here."

His voice has dropped to a whisper, and his eyes are still closed.

Dean feels it, like Ethan's just stabbed him in the heart. He gets all choked up, and it's so the wrong time for this, while Ethan's dick is stuffed up his ass.

He deals with it the only way he can. He gets his knees beneath him, and he leans forward, Ethan still deep inside him, and he pushes his mouth to Ethan's, moans into a clumsy kiss as he slowly starts to rock his hips.

That's all he does. Slowly rocks, breathes Ethan's breath, slow, surreal, the laziest sex he's ever had, but it feels right.

He doesn't stop until he starts to come, then he collapses forward onto Ethan's chest and simply clings while Ethan thrusts up into him until he's finished, too.