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He'd done it. Finally, he was inside the house. He breathed a sigh of relief that he still remembered how to pick a lock. It had been awhile.
Dean knew Zachariah would be home any moment now -- he now just needed to find a place to hide and wait. His breath hitched and he threw his back against the nearest wall in a panic when he heard a rustling sound come from a room down the hall.
Seconds that felt like minutes passed and the rustling turned to sturdy footsteps and a light flicked on. Dean cursed under his breath and began tip-toeing toward the sounds, reaching for his gun which was tucked in the back of his waistband.
How could he have missed Zachariah coming home? He'd been staking out the house for days, learning the man's routine, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
Dean frowned to himself. He had seen the man drive away in his Lexus. Dean had seen him do this same thing almost every night for the last few weeks: Zachariah would leave, be gone for about an hour (sometimes two), and then come home. Every night. Like clockwork. A couple times, Dean had followed him to figure out where he goes, and it turned out to be -- surprise, surprise -- any one of his mistress' houses. Yes, the scumbag had multiple mistresses.
That's what this whole thing was about. That was why Dean was here. Zachariah's soon-to-be ex-wife hired him to put an end to the man's behavior… once and for all. Dean had only done this kind of thing a couple times before. He'd taken out a couple of rapists who were freed with nothing but a slap on the wrist. He'd also once killed a known pedophile after he saw him trying to lure a kid into his backyard. And he'd do it again. Zachariah had had several sexual assault cases filed against him by several different women, and two young men, that had never amounted to anything. Mostly likely, he'd paid off a judge or two. That, mixed with the cheating, he was just all around a bad dude. Dean had not problem removing him from the planet if he was going to be an ass.Plus, he was really doing this for Sammy -- to get money to send him to college.
As Dean approached the doorway with light spilling into the hallway, he was careful not to make a shadow. He let out a shaky, but silent, breath as he prepared himself for who he might find.
"I know you're there, Dean," said a low, bored-sounding voice from inside the room. It wasn't Zachariah's. "You don't need to keep sneaking about."
"Who the hell are you?" The blonde man raised his gun. A man appeared in the doorway, even though, with the light behind him, all Dean could make out was his shape. The freckled man squinted, trying to make out details.
"Down boy," he said in a teasing tone. "I'm not here to hurt you. I only mean to kill you." The man stepped closer and now Dean could make out more details of his appearance. He was wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, black slacks, black dress shoes, and a blue and silver necktie. The mystery man's hair was jet black and looked messy -- like he'd just been in a fight. Or just gotten out of bed.
Dean gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on his weapon, which he had pointed at the man's face. He noticed then that he wasn't holding anything. "Yeah? How do you intend to do that?"
The mystery man shrugged and then charged forward at near inhuman speed, swept his foot under Dean's, knocking him off balance and onto the ground. His gun slid away from him, and he cursed himself quietly. The man took a few steps closer to him, and then crouched down next to him. Dean blinked at him. God, he was handsome. He had tanned skin and piercing blue eyes.
"I'm just here to do my job."
The other man chuckled. "Oh, by all means then, if taking out my client is your job, then proceed." His words dripped with sarcasm. The man knelt all the way down, his knee digging into the other man's arm, making him wince. "You're very pretty, Dean."
"How do you know my name?"
"Oh, I've been watching you. Zachariah had a little feeling Abbey would try something. She's always threatened hiring a hitman to take care of him. So the last time she caught him cheating, he hired me to protect him, which included finding everything out about you that I could." He took out a switchblade from his pocket and gently traced Dean's cheekbones and jaw bone with the blade. "So while you've been investigating him, I've been investigating you. And when I saw you leave your apartment and head this way, I figured I'd get a head start and meet you inside."
Dean closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deeply, in and out. This could not be happening. His client's husband had hired a hitman for the hitman. Wow, maybe those two really deserved each other after all.
The blade of the unknown man's knife passed over Dean's lips and groan escaped him. Fuck, he could not be getting turned on right now. Yes, there was a ton of adrenaline coursing through his veins, but that did not explain the growing pressure in his jeans. The man seemed to notice and smirked. Dean must have let his mind wander for a moment too long, thinking of all the awful situations that might come of this. His thoughts turned to Sam, his baby brother, who might not get his tuition money, a decent education, and worse -- would have to care for their deadbeat alcoholic father all by himself.
The blonde haired man now found himself face-down on the hardwood floor of the hallway, having been manhandled and flipped over after he let his guard down. That, for some reason, made the discomfort in his crotch much, much worse. He let out a low groan and a faint "please."
He could feel the black-haired man chicken-wing Dean's arms behind his back, holding his wrists in place. "Please what?"
Fuck me, Dean thought, absolutely appalled at himself for thinking it. God, why was he so turned on?
The grip on his wrists tightened painfully. "Oh, really?" The other man moved to straddle Dean's waist, making sure Dean could feel his growing erection on his ass. "I tell you I'm here to kill you, and you beg me to fuck you… That's very interesting, Dean."
"I didn't say that!"
"Oh yes, you did. You didn't mean to, perhaps, but you still did." The man started rocking, his clothed hard-on rutting against Dean's jean-clad ass. He leaned forward, and his lips brushed the back of the other man's neck. "I presume you must be wondering my name, and I suppose you're going to need something to yell out later, so... My name's Castiel."
Dean moaned at the grinding hips. "Okay, please, god, just fuck me, Castiel."
"So needy," the man hummed. It sounded like he was rummaging in his pocket for a moment before there was a zipping sound, followed by a different kind of pressure on Dean's wrists. "I brought zip ties just in case I needed to restrain you to keep you from attacking me, but I like this use for them much better."
Dean gulped and took a shaky breath. "Please don't kill me."
The man let out a breathy chuckle. "Let's make a deal. You be a good boy for me, leave Zachariah alone, and I'll pay for your brother's tuition. All you have to tell Abbadon is that he never came home and therefore you couldn't finish the job. Okay? If I find out you're going to try to kill Zachariah again, your family will not be safe from me. Got it?"
"How'd you know-"
"I do my research."
Dean nodded against the floor. "Okay. I got it. I agree."
Castiel promptly stood before he leaned down, gripping Dean's zip-tied hands, and pulling him up to a standing position. It hurt, but Dean ignored the pain. He'd had worse. He was then dragged into the room that still had the light on, which turned out to be a large bathroom. There was an obsenely large bathtub, a huge walk-in shower surrounded by glass, counter tops that looked to be made of pure quartz, and a large, gold-framed mirror above the two sinks.
Castiel pushed him up against the counter and shove his knee squarely between Dean's legs and pushed his hips up against his ass once again, most likely to keep him in place. Dean looked straight ahead into the mirror and saw the blush spreading across his face and piercing blue eyes staring back at him.
"I'm going to take off your pants, okay?" Dean swallowed. After a long pause, Castiel asked, "Is that okay, Dean?"
"Y-yes," he stuttered. He was asking for consent? Now?
"I may be okay with killing bad people for money, but I'm not about to sexually assault you," Castiel clarified. "Now… may I?"
"But Z-Zach-" Dean's mind was spinning.
The other man shushed him softly and murmured in his ear. "I told him when I got here to get a hotel room for the night. He's not coming back." He then reached around and unbuttoned the younger man's jeans, pulling them down slowly. "Oh, Dean…"
The freckled man blushed more deeply this time. He'd forgotten about the panties he'd put on: a blood red satin thong. "They, uh... give me confidence," he muttered.
"As they should," Castiel breathed, giving his shoulder a soft bite. "Fuck, you're so sexy. I knew you were pretty, but I had no idea." There was a rustling as Castiel hastily took off his own pants and toed off his shoes. After he finished, he helped Dean get his jeans completely off and take off his shoes. Castiel lowered the waistband of his black briefs and tucked them just underneath his balls, revealing his full erection.
Dean whined when he felt the length between his cheeks, the fabric of the thong rubbing against his hole.
"I've fantasized about doing this, Dean," the other man breathed, letting out a low moan.
"Y-yeah?"
"When I was following you, learning your habits, I noticed you laying on your bed with the curtains open one night." He quickly shoved the thong to the side and the head of his cock caught on Dean's rim. "Shit! I saw you, Dean, with your glass dildo, fucking yourself until you came all over your stomach." He moaned again, squeezing his eyes shut. "I remember you tasting your own cum. I couldn't see just how beautiful you were then, though. I couldn't tell-" Castiel bit his lip and cursed as he separated himself from the younger man.
Dean whined at the loss of contact as he watched Castiel through the mirror as he dug through his pant pockets and triumphantly pulled out a condom. He tore it open with his teeth and rolled it on.
"Cas, please," Dean begged, bending himself over the counter and sticking out his ass. A sharp smack echoed throughout the bathroom and there was a pleasant sting coming from Dean's left ass cheek. "Mmmm, please."
"I need to prep you."
Dean shook his head. "I fucked myself before I came over, but I lost track of time and didn't have a chance to properly finish. Please, Cas, I'm ready."
"Dear god, okay." He lined up and pressed his head to Dean's hole and gently rocked into position. He went too slow for Dean's liking, but he appreciated him being careful. Gradually, he picked up the pace, fucking in and out with ease.
"Harder," Dean whined, not even totally certain he'd even said anything at all. His eyes squeezed shut so he didn't have to watch himself be used in the giant bathroom mirror.
Castiel grunted and started sucking hard on Dean's neck and he rammed into him. His hand reached up and started playing with the bottom man's nipples.
Dean gasped and bit his lip. "Oh fuck, Castiel. Oh shit. Please… please touch me."
Cas reached into the front of Dean's panties and wrapped his hand around his length. "Like this, sweet boy? You wanna come with my cock inside you?"
"Uh-huh…" Dean moaned and shoved back onto his dick, making him go deeper.
"You're so good. Open your eyes and watch me fuck you while you come."
Dean pried his eyes open, and what he saw did him in. Cas had one hand wrapped around his throbbing dick, pumping it, the other hand tugging on his hair, forcing his back to arch and his head to fall back into the other man's shoulder. His hands were still tied behind his back and he was completely at the mercy of this sexy stranger. He came with a shout all over the mirror and the counter, and moments later, Cas was kissing his neck and groaning as his thrusts became less controlled.
The dark-haired man stilled his hips and huffed. "Jesus Christ."
"Indeed," Dean chuckled.
Minutes later, Castiel had thrown away the spent condom and cut Dean out of the zip-tie and turned him around so they could share a kiss. They pulled away reluctantly. "Get home to your family." The man stole another kiss between sentences. "I need to make it look like I killed you."
Dean stifled a laugh. "Funnily enough, the way the French say 'orgasm' -- 'la petite mort' -- translates to 'a little death'."
Castiel smirked. "Well aren't you full of surprises." He planted one last kiss on the freckled man's lips and stepped away. "I hope we meet again. Maybe for a meal?"
"Are you asking me out on a date?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised.
Castiel looked away and blushed. "Hm. Perhaps not…"
Dean finished pulling on the last of his clothes and winked. "If you are asking me out, I'm saying yes." He made his way to the doorway. "See you around, boss. You know where to find me."
"I'll be by tomorrow with the money, as promised."
Dean nodded, went out to the hallway, swooped down to pick up his fallen gun, and headed out the back door of the house. He had more pep in his step than a killer for hire ever ought to, but hey… he just got laid, was about to get Sammy's college fund taken care of, and he didn't even have to kill anyone. That's what he called a win-win situation.
Though, he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't going to tell one of his friends in the business about Zachariah's out-of-line behavior.