Plot is important to me. And so, this was a challenge to myself – can I write machine porn, with plot. I have no idea if I succeeded, but the presence of back story makes me feel better.

"Mr Winchester?"

Dean looks up from the dingy magazine that he's reading and realises that there's no one in the room with him anymore, not waiting at least. There had been seven to begin with, now there's just him, and that voice on the intercom.

He gets up, puts the magazine down, having learned nothing about line fishing, and goes through the door into the doctor's office.

It's a tiny room, with a filing cabinet, a desk and two chairs. The doctor is, dean notices, looking kinda depressed. His tie is discarded on the desk, his dark hair ruffled from running irritable fingers through it.

"Take a seat." The doctor says politely.

Dean sits.

"I see from your questionnaire answers that you're at least partially qualified for this study, there'll be some testing, to make sure that you meet the physical requirements."

"Which are?"

Dr. Novak, as his desk plate declares him, scuffles awkwardly with some crumpled papers. "Umm...a certain combination of physical and nervous criteria...I've only just replaced as the study leader...I haven't yet begun to order his paperwork..."

"No problem, Dr Novak." Dean says easily. "Just...let's get to it."

"Okay." Dr. Novak seems relived. "And it's Castiel, please. I'll just check through your records. May I ask you some questions?"

"Shoot."

"Name, Dean Winchester – correct?"

Dean nods.

"Birth date January 4th 1979, sexually active from age...fifteen."

"Yes." Dean says.

"And you haven't." Castiel frowns. "I'm sorry, this must be an administrative error. I assume this is months?" He points at a number on the chart.

"No, years. That's right."

Castiel looks surprised. "But...umm, that means you haven't had an orgasm since...you were eighteen?"

Dean nods.

Castiel blinks.

"It's ok, I get this a lot." Dean shrugs.

"Sorry, it's... I should be more professional, I was just...surprised."

Dean shrugs again. "So, these tests?"

"Yes." Castiel snaps back into Dr. mode. "Come through." He opens the door into the exam room, and Dean follows, before stopping short in the doorway.

"Well, that is some Rock-Horror-Creeper-Basement shit right there." He says, looking at the exam table, set up with the paper sheet over it, but with a black box on a table at one end, a long metal pole protruding from it, ending in a pretty sizeable dildo.

"It's completely sterile. Don't worry." The doctor assures him. "The others didn't even get to the test."

"Why not?" Dean asks, still unable to tear his eyes away from the table. He's noticed a kind of clear plastic cylinder, attached to another box under the table. A suction cup.

"They didn't meet the study requirements." Castiel sighs. "We're looking for impotent, young to middle-aged males who don't respond to pharmaceuticals, and who have suffered long term erectile dysfunction. None of them had been suffering for longer than a year. Most were over fifty."

"Lucky me. I'm special." Dean sighs.

"Your details are so far quite promising...hopefully we'll be able to help you." Castiel reassures him.

Dean wouldn't say so, but he kind of feels better than he did sitting in the waiting room. The doctor is nice, and he's not giving Dean that look that the other ones did, back in his twenties - something between pity and suspicion – like he was faking or something.

"You want me on the table?" Dean asks.

"If you would." Castiel says, "There's a gown on the back of the door...also, umm...I equipped the room with lubricant, do you know how to..."

"Yeah." Dean assures him. "I've uh...yeah, it's not gonna be a problem."

Castiel looks at him, and Dean feels his neck get hot. Nothing like telling a medical professional that you've had plenty of experience with prepping yourself for recreational purposes.

"I'll be right outside, press the call button when you're done." Castiel says and leaves the room.

Dean takes off his shirt and his jeans, slipping into the robe before stripping off his underwear and socks.

There is indeed lube, an industrial sized container with a tiny hand pump on top. Dean applies a sizeable amount to his hand, then looks at the dildo and adds some more. Better safe than sorry. He leans on the table and starts carefully easing himself open. It's kind of weird, doing it when he knows for a fact that nothing is going to come of it. He'd tried a couple of times, mostly out of frustration over the years, and...nothing. He'd even bottomed for a couple of guys, just to try and keep them around. But...well, it was hardly a turn on when your boyfriend couldn't get off, ever.

He gets himself pretty wet, and manages four fingers before he decides he's ready.

"Okay." He yells, and wipes his hand on the side of his robe.

Castiel comes back through the door, his ears a little pink. Dean wonders if he'd been as quiet as he thought while he was fingering himself, or if a couple of grunts had escaped him. Shit, that was embarrassing.

"If you could get on the table." Castiel says.

Dean moves towards it, then pauses. "Wait...face up or...face down?"

Castiel looks at him, and Dean might be seeing things, but he swears Castiel's throat moves in a laboured swallow. "However you're comfortable."

Dean climbs up onto the table, and lays down on his front. At least this way he's close to the crinkly paper, able to feel his warm breath reflecting off of it. It feels close, and safe, and less scary than looking up at the white ceiling tiles.

"I'm just going to...set up the equipment. It's going to show me if you are physically responsive, if you manage to achieve an...if you have an erection, that'll show that you're not eligible for the study."

"I'm not worried." Dean mutters. "Be a hell of time to start now."

Castiel explains what Dean already read in the literature. "What we think is that, in puberty, your hormones were higher, but when they died off, and you entered adulthood..."

"My body just kinda stopped trying?" Dean huffs. "I get it...can we just...start?"

Castiel moves, Dean can hear his clothes rustling. Then the snap of latex gloves being drawn on. Then there's just a series of scraping clacking sounds.

"You could tell me what you're doing." Dean points out. "I feel like I'm on the freaking mothership right now."

"Sorry." Castiel says. "I was just plugging everything in...and, now I'm going to insert the...device."

Dean swallows, and realises that Castiel sounds as awkward as he feels.

"Have you ever done this before?"

"None of the other subjects reached this stage." Castiel say softly.

"Oh." Dean says, and can't say anything else to that.

Warm, latex covered fingers brush his ass as they lift up the gown, and Dean closes his eyes. It feels weird, and really really undignified, but he's a little excited. No one's touched him like this in a long time.

The cool prod of the plastic dick makes him jump.

"Cold." He mutters. He honestly isn't expecting anything to be done about it, but the poking thing moves away, and he hears Castiel breathing on it, like it's a stethoscope. Dean almost shivers.

The thing returns, and Castiel slides it into him with almost no resistance. Dean's still not hard, shocker, but he likes the feeling of being full. He could kind of curl up and sleep like this, with something stretching him.

A hand brushes his stomach, and Dean bites his lip as Castiel carefully slides the clear plastic cup over his limp dick, setting the rubber seal at the base. The doctor backs away, leaving Dean on the table, stuffed and cupped, and really apprehensive.

"I'm going to turn everything on in a moment." Castiel tells him. "I can give you the controls, and leave, if you'd like."

Dean kind of wants to be alone, but on the other hand, he doesn't – what if something goes wrong? Or breaks? Or he drops a control and can't shut the damn thing off?

"Stay. Nothing's gonna happen anyway." Dean points out.

There's a long silence, then a gloved hand places a simple set of control dials next to Dean's own hand.

"Very well." Castiel murmurs. "I'll be over here."

Dean hears him take three steps, and a chair creaks as he sits down. There's another little silence, and then Dean hears some switches clicking.

"It's turned on now." Castiel says calmly. "Twist the dials up to start, keep turning to increase the power."

"How long for?" Dean asks.

"...as long as you can stand it." Castiel says, slightly apologetically. "We have to be sure that you're not just incredibly resistant."

"Great." Dean huffs, and tweaks both the dials to the first level.

The dildo starts to move, sliding back and forth about an inch at a time, slowly, almost like it's trying to massage him. It doesn't suck, but it doesn't really feel good either. Just...like a finger sliding in and out of his mouth. The suction cup pulses gently and it's...comfortable.

Dean flicks the dial up.

He's done this at home, well, not exactly this, but similar. Finger fucked himself raw, pumped a dildo into himself and rubbed his dick till it actually hurt. No response, not ever. He'd even gotten one of his college boyfriends to fist him. It had hurt like a bitch, and still gotten him nowhere. Plus, it had been humiliating to be taken apart like that and have the guy he was with be a bitch about him still not getting hard. Dean had actually cried, just a little, but enough – intense sex and a fight were not something he would ever mix again.

The next level up is still nothing to write home about. But the dildo moves a little faster, a little deeper, and it's lest restful now, more decisive. Dean huffs a sigh and leans onto his side, looking at the wall posters for dental care. He glances at the doctor quickly, and finds Castiel's eyes on him, before they dart away and the doctor blushes fiercely.

"You are allowed to look at me." Dean finds himself saying, "That's kind of your job, right?"

"Yes." Castiel admits. "I just don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"We kind of crossed that bridge when you stuck a dick in my ass." Dean smirks.

Castiel blushes more, and Dean rests his head on his arm, trying to relax.

He idly flicks the dial up again.

"This thing isn't exactly rocking my world." He says, a little louder than before, as the machine is picking up some momentum and making quite a bit of noise. The dildo is getting really determined, and the suction is doing something to his limp cock that, whilst not pleasurable, is interesting.

"That's actually good, from our perspective." Castiel points out.

"Yay." Dean mutters. He thrusts his hips back against the dildo, seeing if it'll go a little deeper. The thing might be loud, but he still hears Castiel's little shuddery gasp. Dean looks up again, and finds the doctors eyes on him. He casts his own eyes downwards to where the doctor is holding his clipboard over his lap.

"Does this turn you on?" Dean asks, not entirely surprised. Doctors must see some pretty crazy stuff, it would be hard to get turned on by the regular stuff if you saw it all day at work.

"No..." Castiel says, unconvincingly.

"Seriously, I'm not judging." Dean sighs. "If you'd seen some the crap I tried to get any kind of reaction down south...I'm talking weird stuff, with midgets."

Castiel laughs, a tiny, startling sound.

"I don't mind dude." Dean assures him. "Nice to know I can still get a reaction from someone else's junk at least."

Castiel tilts his head. "But, you are attractive."

"Attractive, but not functional – like one of those modern art chairs." Dean grunts, feeling the dildo nail him pointedly.

Castiel doesn't say anything, and Dean's glad that the guy's keeping all the emotional, you're-worth-more-than-just-sex crap to himself. Dean knows he's worth more than sex, he cooks a mean omelette and he remembers birthdays and he's freaking hilarious. But, the sex is kind of what he's missing right now. He barely even remembers what he'd done as a teenager. What it felt like.

He doesn't like when he gets all stupid and emotional, so he twists the dial up to distract himself.

Not a good idea as it turns out, to turn it up all the way. The cock in his ass suddenly perks up into a punishing rhythm, pounding him almost flat onto the table. The cup around his dick pulses hard and fast and Dean closes his eyes and hisses.

"Are you ok?" Castiel asks.

"Fine...just...fuck!" Dean snaps. "This thing...really..." He loses his train of thought, and what had felt mildly promising, or at least, not annoying or uncomfortable, starts to actually feel...kind of good.

Then better.

Dean's body jerks on the table, and he rocks his ass back against the lighting fast thrusts of the dildo. He presses his face to his upper arm, which is stretched out, hand clasping the top of the table. He's panting, mouth open, slack, and a moan escapes him.

The hand on his shoulder makes him jump.

"Dean?"

"...uh..."

Castiel shakes him a little, and Dean opens his eyes, finding Castiel flushed and worried looking. "You're ummm..."

Dean closes his eyes again and moans, he knows he's hard. He can feel the cup sliding on his dick, feel the ache of it all the way into his stomach. It's been so long, too long, since he's been hard. Since he's felt like this. He can barely think. He just knows that if it stops, he's going to die. He needs this. Fuck, he deserves this.

So when Castiel tries to take the controls from his hand, Dean grabs the doctor's fingers and gasps, "Don't. Don't stop."

Castiel freezes, and Dean cries out as a particularly strong wave of pleasure washes through him. He's pushing back with no inhibitions, driving the dildo into his ass as it punches forwards. He still has the doctor's hand in his, and he can't let go, can't move other than to try and reach what is so near and yet so out of reach, his own orgasm.

He's so close, peaking and shaking, and losing it over and over – but never quite tipping over the edge. Dean has no idea where he is, or what's coming out of his mouth, he swears, moans, whimpers and begs, and none of it registers with his brain. Nothing.

He clenches the muscles of his ass, moves in every way he can, shudders and shakes and rubs his body shamelessly against the metal of the table. Still, release is not forthcoming. He's burning up, and his throat is raw from moaning, and he can't...quite...reach the end. Can't finish. It feels like he's been going forever.

There's a voice that keeps muttering his name, saying things that he can't understand. And his chest is burning, his heart is racing and sweat is running all over him. A trail of lube running from between his legs, making the steel table and the torn, sweaty paper, slick and hard to move on as he thrashes.

Finally, he feels a hand jerk the dildo, first to one side, then the other, and it's there that it makes Dean buck and yell and finally scream into the hot, fogged steel of the table, as a strong pair of arms, that smell like rubbing alcohol, hold his head and shoulders down, and grip his back tightly.

Dean comes. He bucks and cries out, and goes blind for a moment, seeing first white, then grey, then nothing at all. His body feels like it's melting, hot and unsteady and limp, the thing around his dick sucks it dry of come, until he's empty and it's still going, making him jerk and twitch and moan all over again as his ass is fucked raw. He curls up as much as he can, and shivers, groaning each time his body spasms in a phantom orgasm.

Slowly, the machine winds down, and Dean is left, body curled, legs drawn up, gown torn open, lying on the table, naked back bared and sweating under the neon light strip.

He can't move, can't even lift his head. He's exhausted. Even his eyes refuse to open.

A hand pets his damp hair, and Dean whimpers, incapable of forming words just then. He hears a small sigh, and then something warm is draped over him. Someone unhooks the slick cup from his dick, and draws the heavy weight from his ass. He hears footsteps going away, and a door opens and closes.

Then Dean passes out, and stays like that for a long time.

When he wakes up, it's not sudden, and he gradually claws his way to awareness, realising that he's sore, aching, and lying on something tacky with sweat. He opens his eyes, and winces at the bright light. When he tries to sit up, his muscles spasm unhelpfully, and it takes him a long time to ease himself upright.

He picks up the white lab coat that was draped over him, and closes his eyes. Fuck. This was humiliating. It takes him a moment to realise that he's failed the whole fucking study. That this was his last hope for treatment and now it's gone.

It's hard to feel sad about it when he can still feel his orgasm radiating in his body. But he knows that this might be the last time he ever feels like this.

He drags himself off of the table, wipes up as best he can with a package of wipes, and stuffs his body into his clothes. Dean fumbles with the door into Castiel's office, and finds the doctor sitting at his desk, an empty mug next to him.

The window is dark, stars clearly visible.

"Shit." Dean blurts. "Sorry, I didn't know it was so late..."

"It's fine." Castiel says softly. "I had paperwork to file."

Dean stands awkwardly in the doorway. "I'm...sorry, about...I don't even know what happened..."

Castiel looks at him, a strange look of mixed regret and...a kind of softness that puts Dean a little more at ease. "You...uh..." Casitel looks down at his papers. "You suffer from a lack of susceptibility to orthodox stimulation...you are difficult to arouse, and even more resilient in the face of an actual climax. It took...two hours, for you to get from having an erection, to achieving orgasm." He shoves the paper to one side and sighs. "I can't...do the doctor thing, I'm sorry."

Dean swallows.

"Dean...you...you don't qualify for the study." Castiel says regretfully. "And...what happened, in that room was...the most..." his mouth moves, and no words come out, his face betraying his complete lack of verbal reasoning.

"Yeah, I'm a freak." Dean says bitterly. "Sorry for...everything."

Castiel looks at him, and his face lights up, like he's looking into Dean's soul or something. "Dean, you don't have to apologise...I just meant that...you were incredible...and I have never felt so deeply touched by simply witnessing...just by touching someone, who felt, that much."

Dean looks at the floor. "You, uh, you were holding onto me, I felt that, and you...uh...thanks."

"I wanted to. It wasn't appropriate but..." Castiel breaks off, and wet his lips. "I didn't do anything, at least not until I was back in here."

Dean flushes, and just thinking of Castiel managing to keep it together in the exam room, before coming in here and jerking off, while he himself was passed out on the table, body still humming, is shockingly affecting. He doesn't feel turned on, but...he likes it. The idea of it. Wouldn't mind it happening again.

That thought makes him jump.

"Dean..." Castiel says softly. "I don't suppose you'd consider...perhaps, we could...go somewhere. Some time."

He knows he's being asked out, and Dean doesn't know quite what to do. He hasn't done the relationship thing for a while. And tonight, it's all very new, and different, and he can't quite think right now. But mostly he's just worried for Castiel's sake – a doctor, a hot doctor no less, getting caught in Dean's weirdness.

"You really want to date a guy who needs...a half ton of machinery, just to fuck himself unconscious?" Dean points out.

Castiel raises a half smile, but his face remains otherwise serious. "I can get a half ton of machinery...but...I think maybe I might be happy, with you. Maybe I can make you happy too?"

Dean shrugs. "You don't know me."

"I like you. From, meeting you here...I like you. And, I'd like to know you."

Dean likes Castiel. He's honest. He likes honesty, and kindness, and strength. And Castiel has that. Maybe it's not enough for most people to start on, but, Dean knows that sometimes you don't have a lot to build on. And that's ok. He doesn't need much. Just someone to cook omelettes for, and whose birthday he can remember, someone to laugh with.

"Sure." He says. And Castiel smiles at him, relived. Dean looks at the clock. It's almost six am. They've been here almost the whole night. "You want...breakfast, somewhere?"

Castiel nods. "There's a diner down the street."

They go to the diner, Castiel orders an omelette, Dean gets French toast. The cook only has one arm, and Dean's expectations are low.

But he's prepared to be surprised.

(-*-)

They date for a while, and Castiel is entirely enthralled with Dean. To the point that, when he leaves him and returns to his apartment, he can barely sleep for want of the other man's company.

It is not, as he first worried, a simply matter of attraction. Dean is beyond gorgeous, and Castiel is not just in love with the way he looks, the way he moves – there are points when he remembers the curve of Dean's slick back, writhing, and he feel almost devoted to him, and to his beauty. Castiel has discovered that Dean is as fascinating as he is alluring, and what they lack in common pastimes, they make up for in a willingness to share their respective interests.

Dean takes Castiel out to his four car garage and explains to him the ins and outs of his vintage cars. He tells Castiel all about his interest in planes, and how he's training to be a pilot. In turn, Castiel takes Dean to the exotic market where he buys his ingredients, and shows him how to cook all the tiny, fiddly little dishes that he loves. He even lets Dean use his liquid nitrogen to make instant ice-cream. Castiel is rather a daring amateur chef, and he has the burns to prove it.

Castiel is introduced to Dean's brother, who treats him warily for their first few visits, which Castiel doesn't quite understand, but still allows to pass without comment. Dean has been hurt before, he knows this. Castiel has no wish to make things difficult, to cause problems between Sam and Dean. So he does his best to show that he is not about to hurt him, and eventually Sam warms up to him, and asks him how he manages to get his noodles so fine.

They skirt the issue of sex for three months. In that time they sleep together whenever the night grows late and they're still talking or watching TV at their respective apartments. They touch, they kiss, and Castiel has, on a number of occasions, had to excuse himself to the bathroom. Dean offers himself whenever things become heated, and Castiel is unable to keep himself in check. But he refuses Dean's advances. He tells him it's too early for them yet. That he doesn't want to rush. The actuality is that he does not wish to have his own release, without Dean's to accompany it.

One evening, Dean lies down with his head against Castiel's chest, and asks. "So...are they done with that thing at your office yet?"

Castiel is surprised, he hadn't know that Dean was dwelling on it, and from the sound of it he has been. "Yes."

"Feel like borrowing it?" Dean asks.

"You want to?"

Dean sits up and looks at him like he's crazy. "Hell yes...I just thought...you know, we were waiting."

Castiel kisses him, deeply. "You don't have to wait anymore." He promises.

The next day, Castiel steals nine thousand dollars worth of medical equipment from his own practice. He's fairly confident that no one will notice.

There's moment, just a small one, when he's setting everything up around Dean's bed, where the other man looks a little nervous.

"Are you worried?" Castiel asks softly.

Dean looks at him, and frowns. "You won't...I mean, you're not going to get freaked out...by me..." he looks down at himself. "Last time I went kinda crazy."

Castiel crosses the room and kneels down in front of him. "You were...indescribably arousing." He murmurs, "and...I promise I wouldn't be doing this, if I thought it would hurt us."

Castiel gently undresses Dean, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and undoing his jeans. They lie down on the bed together, and Dean lets Castiel prep him, enjoying the closeness, the way Castiel's skin feels on his.

When the machine starts, Castiel strokes Dean's back, and kisses him, sucking gently at his neck and running his hands over his skin. As the settings amp up, Dean starts to shiver and moan, and Castiel lets him decide where he wants to be touched, stays close enough for Dean to stroke him and kiss him when he wants to.

It takes half an hour for Dean to harden fully, and by the time he has, he's running with sweat, gasping and whimpering, and grasping at Castiel, until the other man presses along Dean's side, holding him firmly, carefully, to the mattress.

They stay like that for a long time, until Dean can't take it anymore, and has to roll onto his stomach, with Castiel slightly under him. Castiel holds onto Dean, feeling the press of his skin, burning up and slick as he jerks, and thrusts, and shakes. He comes almost accidently, rubbing against Dean's stomach, closing his eyes and groaning heavily.

It takes Dean another hour to come, and by that time his ass his red around the rim, where the dildo is pounding him relentlessly, and he's screaming into the mattress, pushing back as hard as he can against the machine. Castiel wraps his arms around him as Dean jerks, once, twice, and goes limp. Unconscious.

He unplugs the machines, gently removing them from Dean as he had the first time he'd used them. Then he gets a clean sheet and puts it over Dean, lying down next to him. He's almost angelic in sleep, lips slightly parted, lashes flash to his cheeks. Castiel dozes next to him, rousing himself when Dean wakes up some time later.

"Ugh..." Dean rolls onto his back and stretches. His body goes limp against the mattress. "Oh my God."

Castiel kisses his shoulder. "That didn't hurt?"

"I think I might have been too far gone." Dean mumbles. "I didn't get too weird?"

"You were perfect." Castiel assures him.

Dean recovers for a few more minutes, then opens his eyes and looks over Castiel's naked body. "Did you...?"

"A while ago." Castiel says.

Dean is quiet for a moment. Castiel wonders what he's thinking about. He doesn't have to wait long to find out.

"If you wanted to fuck me now...that'd be okay." Dean says quietly.

"I think that would actually hurt you." Castiel tells him, reaching up to stroke Dean's hair. "I'm fine Dean, it was good."

Dean looks at him doubtfully.

"I promise, I felt amazing." Castiel kisses him.

Dean kisses him back, one hand reaching cunningly between them to touch Castiel's cock. Castiel sighs, but doesn't stop him, and when he starts to get hard again, he breaths Dean's name and cups his face. But, when Dean moves to get on top of him, Castiel raises a hand to stop him.

"You're going to be sore."

"I'll be sore either way."

"Dean..." Castiel starts to sit up.

"No." Dean pushes him back down, and kneels over him. "Cas, just...let me do this, okay? I haven't...I haven't been able to do this for someone in...a long freaking time...just, let me do this."

Castiel lies back, meets Dean's eyes and says. "A want you so much."

Dean dips down and kisses his chest.

"I wanted you since you first walked into my office." Castiel tells him, running his fingers over Dean's hair. "You looked so shy...I didn't know what to say to you."

Dean hums to show he's listening, biting lightly at Castiel's nipple.

"I could see it, how frustrated you were." Castiel's breath hitches. "You looked so sad."

Dean sits up, positions himself carefully. "Not anymore." He promises, sinking down.

Castiel groans, Dean is wet and loose and fucked wide. He feels incredible, and Castiel tells him so. Although it's strange, being ridden by another man who's soft and already raw and spent, Castiel still finds it indescribably good. He arches into Dean, loving the feel of his body on top of his own. He jerks his hips up, the sounds of their flesh smacking together growing steadily louder and faster until he comes undone, shuddering and falling back onto the bed.

They lie together in the aftermath, and Dean feels almost...normal.

It's the first night either of them have said 'I love you', and they murmur it in the cushiony quiet of a room that has witnessed an inordinate amount of loving.