Jump the Track: Chapter 10 (part 2)
Title - Jump the Track
Chapter - 10 (part 2)
Author - lafleurdumal85
Rating - NC-17
Summary - High school AU. It's Dean's senior year at Lawrence High, and he's already given up on himself. It takes the arrival of the strange, intense, awkward Castiel Delacroix at the school to prove to Dean that maybe his life is worth saving after all.
Chapter warnings - language, lots and lots of sex (finally)
Spoilers - References to characters from seasons 1-6. Apart from that, it's completely AU.
Dean was wondering how to introduce Castiel to horror movies. It was difficult to know what he’d like when the guy had been so completely cut off from mainstream culture his entire life. Dean had lost count of the times he’d made a casual reference to a movie or TV show or celebrity, only to have Cas look at him like he’d grown an extra head. Still, if they were going to make this thing work he would have to get Castiel to like at least some scary movies.
Dean instinctively knew that they should steer clear of slashers, at least at first. Cas had already indicated a distaste for gratuitous gore. Maybe something with religious overtones might be the thing. The Exorcist perhaps, or Blood on Satan’s Claw. Then again, that might throw Castiel into a mortal terror considering he presumably believed in all that stuff. In the end, Dean decided to begin Castiel’s education with some of the classics. He couldn’t go wrong with Hitchcock, he reasoned, and Bela Lugosi’s Dracula was a guaranteed crowd pleaser.
Mary came up to his room with a mug of coffee while he was busy examining his DVD collection. “Mom, can I borrow your collector’s edition copy of Psycho? I wanna show it to Cas.”
“Sure, honey.” She set the mug down on Dean’s desk. “Is there something you want to share?”
Dean’s stomach dropped. He looked up at his mother, dearly wishing that his brain hadn’t chosen that exact moment to freeze. “Share?” he said stupidly.
Mary grinned. “Sam told me about your math test. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Dean’s heart started hammering wildly with relief. “Oh, I forgot.”
“You forgot? Dean! This is amazing! Come on, give me the paper and I’ll put it up on the board.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Mom, I’m eighteen!”
However, Mary was not to be argued with, and Dean ended up fishing the crumpled test paper out of his schoolbag and handing it over. It was a pleasant kind of embarrassment, and Dean didn’t know what to do with it. The last time he’d merited having something on the pin-board it had been the fire truck he’d drawn in sixth grade. He wasn’t used to success. His mind began to tentatively form a vague hope that his dad would let him attend business school in a couple of years. Or something. Maybe.
The weekend stretched gloriously in front of him. He’d work at the garage on Saturday, then he and Jo had made plans for a bad movie night. Maybe on Sunday Dean could start reading that House of Leaves book Sam had lent him. He hadn’t arranged to see Castiel, but then he rarely did on weekends. Cas’s family did not like him having a social life - just another reason why Dean really should be glad that the guy was getting out of there and going to college, but he wasn’t going to think about that right now.
Dean sipped his coffee, enjoying the bitter shudder it sent down his spine. He was looking forward to a couple of days without any drama or complications. Later, Dean considered that he had just been asking for trouble with his complacency. After all, this was his life.
His cell started ringing.
Dean followed the muted tones of Back in Black over to the inside pocket of his jacket, flung across the bed. He retrieved the phone and flipped it open, not bothering to check the caller ID.
“Yeah.”
“Dean?”
Dean sat up, suddenly alert. “Cas? You okay?”
Castiel sounded wrecked. “Dean, can you... can you get away? I really need to see you.”
Something clenched painfully in Dean’s chest. “Sure. I mean, it won’t be a problem. Where are you?”
“Can you meet me at the house? You know, the one I showed you? I’m... I can’t go home tonight.”
Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Cas, what happened?”
“I can’t talk about it now,” Cas replied, a bite of urgency in his voice. “I’m almost out of minutes. I’ll explain when you get here, just please-”
“Sure,” Dean interrupted. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He heard Castiel exhale. “Thank you. The back door will be unlocked.”
Dean hung up. Fuck. Cas never called him up like that - all their plans were made well in advance, usually fitted in around the demands of Castiel’s family. It had to be something pretty bad. And Cas wasn’t at home, which suggested that whatever had happened concerned the Delacroixs. Dean felt sick. What if Uncle Zachariah had found out about exactly how far Castiel was involved with Dean? They’d been so damn careful, erasing text messages, always making sure they had an alibi... but what if it hadn’t been enough? Dean wouldn’t have put it past Zachariah to spy on them. He bridled at the thought of the man’s thinly-veiled contempt, his obsequious smile that never quite reached his eyes. He’d take great pleasure in ruining things for them, in taking away everything good and making Castiel ashamed of who he was.
Dean shrugged on his jacket, stuffing the phone back in the pocket, and grabbed his duffel. He ran down the stairs, jumping the last three and landing cat-like on the front hall carpet.
“I have to go out!” he gasped, skidding into the kitchen.
John looked up from where he was taking a lasagne out of the oven, frowning a little. “We’re just about to have dinner. You okay, Dean?”
“Um, yeah, but I can’t stay. I have to go meet Cas, he’s in trouble.”
John straightened up, his frown deepening. “What kind of trouble?”
“Oh! Um... nothing bad. I mean, he’s not in trouble. He’s just, uh, upset about something and he needs to... Look, I... I don’t know how long this’ll take, so could I just grab some food for us?”
John gave Dean one of his heavy looks. “Dean, whatever it is you’ve gotten yourself into, get out of it. You’re just starting to get back on track; I don’t want you ruining it all with another of your irresponsible-”
“I’m just trying to be a good friend!”
“Oh, please. You seriously expect me to believe you’re running off to console Castiel? I’d have thought you’d come up with a better excuse than that.”
Dean felt himself flush red with anger. “It’s true! What the hell do you want from me?”
“I want you to be my son again! I used to be able to rely on you, Dean, but lately it’s been drinking, sullenness, fighting - and don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been raiding the liquor cabinet. Now stop being a god damn idiot and tell me where the hell you’re going in such a hurry!”
Dean’s fists were clenched so tightly the nails dug into his palms. “Forget it,” he snarled. “I don’t have time for this.” He turned and strode away, wrenching the front door open so violently it banged against the inside wall.
Dean couldn’t remember getting into his car and starting the ignition. It was only when he was a couple of blocks away and the sound of his heart beating in his ears had abated a little that he could take stock of the situation. He’d really done it this time. He was shaking, and he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Why had his dad picked that exact moment to be a douche? The one moment when Dean was already buzzing with nervous energy and really fucking needed to be somewhere? Why couldn’t he just trust Dean for once? Dean angrily shook off the knowledge that he hadn’t exactly done much to earn John’s trust of late. Because couldn’t the guy have realized that this was fucking important? Couldn’t he have looked at Dean and figured it out? Dean forced himself to breathe steadily, trying to ignore the slightly hysterical voice in his head saying you yelled at Dad, you actually got mad at him and now he’s gonna be mad at you and you let him down and you walked away from him and he’s not gonna be proud of you anymore fuck fuck fuck you’d better go back and apologize right the hell now... Dean had bigger things to worry about.
What if Zachariah knew? What would he do? Dean wouldn’t put anything past the bastard, and he strongly suspected that Michael wouldn’t be much better. They could take Cas out of school, cut his ties with the world, keep him a virtual prisoner like they did with Anna. They could even leave the area, stop Castiel from seeing Dean ever again, and what could either of them do about it? By the time Dean pulled into the driveway of the empty house, wheels skidding slightly on the gravel, crazy, half-formed plans were beginning to blossom in his mind. Plans that involved getting Cas out while they still had a chance, and moving him into the Winchester’s home. He’d think of something to tell his parents, and Castiel was legally an adult so it wasn’t like Zachariah could make him go back if he didn’t want to...
Dean ran round to the back of the house and let himself in. The key was in the lock and he turned it once he was inside, wary of the fact that he might not be the only person who would think of looking for Castiel.
“Cas?” he called, his voice echoing strangely. “Cas, it’s me!”
There was no reply, and Dean tore through the house, fearful that Castiel was already gone. But then Dean opened the door to the room, that room, that they had been in before, and found him curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a couple of blankets.
It was April now and the weather was getting warmer though the nights were still chilly, and the old house had not retained any of the day’s warmth. Castiel had lit a small fire in the grate, and its flickering light made him look older than his eighteen years.
“Cas?”
Castiel didn’t look up. He was staring at a photo he held in his hand. “Dean, I don’t know what to believe in anymore,” he whispered.
Dean was across the room in a couple of strides, grasping Castiel’s shoulder, his concern making him a little rougher than he’d intended. Castiel’s eyes snapped up to him, astonishingly blue, astonishingly sad. Then he crushed his mouth against Dean’s, pulling him down onto the couch with a hand at the back of his neck. Castiel bit at his lips, crawling into Dean’s lap, pressing their bodies together.
“Hey, Cas, whoa!” Dean gasped. “hey, what’s-what happened? Just-just talk to me a second, okay?”
Castiel buried his face in Dean’s neck, not loosening his grasp. He was panting slightly.
“Cas, what happened?” Dean rubbed his hand in soothing circles over the other boy’s back.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Castiel whispered. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Cas, did they... did they find out about us?”
“What? Oh, no! No, it’s not... I told them about Cornell.”
“And?”
Castiel shifted slightly to the side. “This was taken when we were little. Before our mother died.” He handed Dean the photo he’d been holding, resting his forehead lightly against Dean’s temple.
Dean looked at the picture of three young boys, the older two not more than seven or eight, arms around each other’s shoulders, grinning for the camera. The one on the left with the mischievous glint in his eyes must be Gabriel, the one who had walked out. The other was surely Michael, but Dean found it hard to equate the smiling, gappy-toothed blond boy with the dispassionate young man he had met. The smallest boy could only be Castiel. He looked exactly how Dean would have imagined a five-year-old Cas to look: sweetly serious with messy hair and eyes too big for his face. Dean had the stupid urge to pick him up and cuddle him.
“We were so happy back then,” Castiel breathed. “Michael wasn’t always as he is now. He used to laugh. Everything was... we all loved each other, and wanted each other to be happy. My father would talk about love a lot, how it was the most important thing. When he distanced himself, Michael changed. I think it hurt him the most because he’d always been so loyal to my father, always wanting to help him. But he just grew cold after that, and it’s like... I think now that he’s going along with everything Zachariah says because he wants to... get back at my father. You were right - this isn’t what our church teaches. The life we’ve been leading isn’t the one our father intended for us. Not that he’s around to give a damn.”
Castiel laughed bitterly, and Dean set the photo aside.
“Cas, what happened?”
Castiel sighed shakily, and Dean thought that no one should sound that tired. “Basically, I have a choice. I could stay here and let things continue as they are. Or I could go to college and never speak to my family again.”
“What the fuck?”
“And they’re all I have left. I have no idea how to get hold of my father. I don’t have an address for Raphael, and knowing him he wouldn’t speak to me anyway if he discovers I’ve quarrelled with Zachariah. Gabriel is God knows where...”
“Cas, you can’t just let these people dictate your whole fucking life!”
Castiel huffed a sigh, letting his head fall onto Dean’s shoulder. “It isn’t that easy. Dean, they’re my family. Could you do something if you knew that John would never speak to you again if you did?”
“He wouldn’t put me in that position,” Dean replied uncomfortably.
“But if he did. And the church... Dean, this mission has been my life. I know it must be difficult for you to understand, but I’ve never had... I’ve dedicated everything I have to serving God. I believed in our church and I’ve never done anything that wasn’t in its service. I don’t know how to... to live outside it. I don’t want to. I just don’t understand how they could do this. How they could not want me to have anything that is mine.”
Dean didn’t say anything. He suspected that a part of Castiel had known all along that his family would react in this way otherwise he would have told them about college sooner. “What are you gonna do?” he asked.
Castiel gave a small shrug. “Money isn’t a problem. I have enough in the way of scholarships, and Miss Bishop’s already said that she’d help me out with getting extra support. It’s just that... I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d ever have to choose. I don’t know if I can let go completely like that, but I... how can I go back there and work for them when they’re just... perverting everything my father tried to establish for us? I can’t-” He was pressing soft, fretful kisses to the side of Dean’s neck. “I can’t stand it. You’re the only thing I... Dean, I can’t stand feeling this way. Please...” His fingers tightened in the fabric of Dean’s shirt, and he climbed back on top of him, knees on either side of Dean’s hips.
Dean tried to soothe him, running comforting hands over Castiel’s arms, stroking fingers through his hair, but Castiel made a low, frustrated growl and pulled Dean closer. He kissed Dean hungrily, almost like he wanted to crawl inside him, disappear into the kiss completely because it just wasn’t enough, it wasn’t close enough. Dean could feel the tension in Cas’s body and felt an ache of love surge through him because he knew that Cas was holding back for him, that he wanted to just hold Dean down and take, but he was restraining himself because of what had happened to Dean. Because he didn’t want Dean to be afraid. That more than anything made Dean’s control slip a couple of notches. He arched up, grinding himself against Castiel and making the other boy shudder and gasp.
Castiel broke the kiss, still rocking his hips against Dean. Dean looked up at him breathlessly and thought that really no one had the right to look so fucking hot. Castiel was like some wild animal turned human, his eyes dark and wild, his lips parted and trembling. Dean reached up and touched his fingers to Castiel’s face almost reverently; impossible to believe that this beautiful creature was really his.
“Dean.” There was tension in Castiel’s voice and it made Dean shiver. “Dean, you... you know that...”
“What?” Dean blinked.
Castiel was breathing erratically, his lips kissed red. His gaze flickered down to Dean’s mouth and back up again. “There’s more that we could do, isn’t there? I mean more than... than what we’ve been doing.”
Dean was suddenly very aware of how dry his mouth was. He darted his tongue out to moisten his lips a little. “Yeah,” he croaked, not needing to ask what Castiel was referring to.
Castiel exhaled sharply. “Have you... thought about it?”
Well, of course Dean had. Thought about it in the same way he’d thought about Space Mountain when he’d been taken to Disney World aged ten. Something that he knew would be awesome, possibly the best thing ever, but simultaneously mind-numbingly terrifying. The Space Mountain dilemma had been solved by having his dad ride with him. And that really wasn’t an analogy that needed to be pursued here. Ugh.
“Dean?” Castiel grew still against him.
“Hey, yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I... I mean, yeah, I’ve... I’ve thought about it.”
Castiel swallowed. “I’d like to. I mean, I know that you’re not ready to... but I could. I’d like to, I mean. It’s just I want... God, Dean, I need to be closer. It’s not enough, it’s... I feel like I can’t...” Castiel’s hands ghosted over Dean’s skin, feverish and fretful. He squirmed against Dean, who was suddenly very aware of the power of the other boy, all that want and passion and fury in him that had been stamped on for so long, so damn long, and deserved a release. Dean realized how much he wanted this, in spite of the fear, in spite of the no going back-ness of it. He wanted Castiel so badly it hurt him inside and out, made his legs tremble, the ache and the heat and the need almost too much. Not just for the promise of the satisfaction of his own desire. More than that, it was a longing to see Castiel come undone, to give him what he needed, to set him free. He wanted to drive Castiel wild.
“Dean, please.” Castiel’s voice was all gravel over molasses. “Please just make me feel better. Just... do whatever the hell you want to me.”
Dean managed to make a cut-off choking noise. If Cas was going to start saying things like that, there was a good chance that Dean would come in his pants. With a concentrated effort to ignore the steady throb between his legs, he forced some of the blood back up to his brain again. “Cas, are you... I mean, this is... this isn’t just because of what happened today, is it?”
Castiel grew still again, and Dean immediately knew he’d said Something Stupid. At this rate his mouth would have to start charging his foot rent. His suspicions were confirmed when Castiel gave him a hard shove and pulled away from him.
“Cas, wait...”
“If you don’t want to, you could just say.”
Dean winced, cursing himself for developing a conscience. Hadn’t the rule always been that if someone you’re really into is practically begging you to fuck them, you should give them what they want instead of trying to reason them out of it? “Of course I want to!” he protested.
“So what if it is because of what happened?” Castiel stood over him, all power and tension and beauty, and Dean was momentarily awestruck that someone so damn strong, so controlled, had been willing to give themselves to him. “So what if maybe I wanted to feel good, to feel like today isn’t just the day I lost faith in my family? Is it really of such consequence?”
Dean gaped at him stupidly.
“So what, you’ll happily go to bed with any girl who’ll have you, but not with me? Dean, I do realize that I’m far from your ideal, but I had thought that-”
“What? Wait, no! Cas, that’s not... Cas, I do want you. More than... I mean, isn’t it fucking obvious?” He caught hold of Castiel’s wrist, seeing that the other boy was about to move away, terrified that if he didn’t keep Cas with him now, that could be it. Dean pulled him in. Castiel sat down next to him stiffly, still not looking at him, and Dean didn’t trust to let go of him. “You just... I’m gonna try to explain, and I probably won’t do it very well, but... Look, with you, I’m... This is new. Not just cause you’re a guy, but... you’re more than just... There’s a lot at stake. You mean more than just... And I’ve never been with anyone like this that I’ve actually loved before, and it never meant anything, and now it does, and I’m kinda terrified that I’m gonna screw this up like everything else, and I want it to be right, and I want you to feel right about it and I’m-” Dean cut himself off. He didn’t know when he’d become such a damn motor mouth or what the hell it was about Castiel that made Dean want to spill out every stupid, incoherent thought that went through his head.
Castiel, unsurprisingly, looked confused. The stupid, hysterical part of Dean’s brain realized that Cas’s confused face reminded him of that owl from The Sword in the Stone.
“So you’re... Dean if you’re just trying to-”
Before Castiel could get up again, Dean grabbed a fistful of his sweater and pulled him in. “I’m saying that I want you,” he said between hard, bruising kisses. “And I’m scared. And I’m stupid. And I’m sorry. Because I never get the things I want. And if I do, I break them.”
Castiel held Dean’s head between his hands, somehow managing to be gentle and firm all at once. He pressed their foreheads together, running a thumb over Dean’s cheekbone. “You won’t break me. Dean, please. Do this for me. Let me be strong for you. You can do whatever it is that you want. You can-”
Dean kissed him again. Kissed him because he hated Castiel sounding so broken, because he didn’t want him to doubt, even for a moment, that he was wanted. He pushed Cas back, lowering him down onto the sofa. Castiel made a quiet noise of satisfaction and pulled him closer.
Dean had always been slightly awestruck by how Castiel kissed so fearlessly, like it was the last thing he’d ever do. He kissed like he was laying claim to Dean. He kissed like he was scared Dean was going to get away. Dean himself had always held back, and it hurt. It hurt to push the surge of want and need back down, when all he ever wanted to do with Cas was mark him, crawl into his skin, take him and make them both complete. He felt like he was suffocating with the effort of restraint. It was a scary thought though, giving yourself to someone like that, intoxicating yourself with them, when they could turn around and break your heart at any moment. That kind of thing could kill you. Sometimes Dean wanted to warn Castiel not to give himself so entirely, to be careful, because while Dean felt like he’d sooner die than intentionally hurt Cas, he didn’t trust himself not to do something stupid and screw everything up. Giving yourself over to another person completely like that could burn you alive.
But then, Dean thought, what a lovely way to burn.
He’d been stupid. He couldn’t keep denying Cas the affirmation he needed; he couldn’t keep denying himself. Not when Castiel was tearing at his shirt, not when his legs were wrapping around Dean’s hips, not when Dean had been so fucking lonely for so fucking long and he’d found the one person who understood. He couldn’t be afraid anymore.
He violated Castiel’s mouth with his tongue, vaguely aware that he was making soft, desperate noises in his throat. He could feel Castiel shaking beneath him, still trying to get under Dean’s clothes, trying to get to the heart of him. Dean sat back long enough to pull his shirt off over his head and toss it aside. Castiel’s hands were already on his belt buckle, clumsily attempting to unfasten it with trembling fingers. Dean took pity on him, the adrenaline coursing through him making him feel strangely lucid. This was happening now, it was actually happening, and Dean was starting to wonder what the fuck had taken him so long.
Castiel tugged his own sweater over his head, and really how had Dean never noticed how fucking hot men were before? The feeling of Castiel’s bare skin pressed up tight against his chest was better than chocolate. There was just so much soft skin, and Dean wanted it all around him, wanted to wrap himself up in Castiel, wanted to explore every inch of him with his mouth, but there wasn’t fucking time because Dean felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t just fuck Castiel senseless.
Castiel pulled Dean’s jeans down roughly, taking his shorts with them, and Dean sobbed slightly with relief as his erection bobbed free. He let Castiel stroke him, his eyes fluttering shut as the sensations travelled all the way up his spine, but then he batted the other boy’s hand away because there was a very great danger that if Castiel kept it up this would be over a lot faster than either of them would like.
Castiel huffed with irritation, but then Dean hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his pants and pulled them down in one swift motion. He traced his fingers lightly over the material of Cas’s shorts where the fabric was tented, making Castiel throw his head back against the cushions with a hiss, his fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders hard enough to bruise.
“Dean,” Cas gasped. “Dean, please... please...”
Dean had mercy on him, and dragged Castiel’s underpants down over his hips. His breath stuttered a little as he looked at Cas’s cock, hard and leaking against his stomach, and felt his own erection twitch appreciatively. Oh yes, he was definitely a little bit gay.
There was an awkward moment when they both tried to completely free themselves of their pants which had gotten caught around their ankles, not having enough room to manoeuvre effectively without falling off the couch. But then their bodies were pressed up against each other and they both lay still for a moment, looking at each other in silent wonder. They’d never been completely naked together before. There was something so incredibly intimate about it, flesh against flesh, nothing between them. Castiel kissed him slowly, tenderly, the sense of urgency ebbing away a little because they were here, this was it, this was the moment and nothing could take it from them. Dean almost wanted to cry with relief.
Castiel lifted his knees up, hooking his ankles around the backs of Dean’s thighs, rocking his hips up slightly so their cocks rubbed against each other, making Dean whimper.
“Cas,” he breathed, lips against the soft skin just below Castiel’s ear. “You sure about this?”
“God, yes!” Castiel gasped. “I want you. I want to feel you in me. I want to know that... that you’re just mine.”
Dean rocked his hips down, making them both moan. “I don’t wanna hurt you...”
“It’s okay. I told you, you won’t break me.”
Not wanting to move away from Castiel, Dean reached blindly for his duffel where he’d dropped it beside the sofa, groping for the inside pocket where he always kept a few packets of condoms and where he’d recently stashed a small bottle of oil as well. Dean had always known that it was best to be prepared.
“Dean.”
Dean loved the way that Castiel said his name, all deep and rough and sex, how he said it more than he really needed to, even if they were alone together, as if he just liked the way Dean’s name sounded in his mouth. They were definitely going to have to try phone sex at some point - just hearing Cas’s voice was enough to make him hard most of the time.
“Dean!”
“Uh... yeah?”
“You... do know what you’re doing, don’t you? I mean, I don’t really-”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s cool. I mean, I’ve never... done this before, but I’ve been doing... research.”
Castiel laughed breathlessly. “You’ve been doing research? Voluntarily?”
“Sex research!” Dean replied defensively. “Anyway, you wanna put me to the test?”
It should have been cheesy - it was cheesy - being really turned on always kind of made Dean’s brain switch off a little and he would occasionally come out with lines that should not be uttered outside of bad porno movies, but Castiel didn’t seem to mind. He bit his lip so hard the surrounding skin turned white, and nodded sharply.
Dean swallowed hard and flipped open the cap of the bottle of lubricant, squeezing some of the cold liquid out onto his fingers and rubbing them together. He’d never been aware before of exactly what it meant to have another person trust him with their body. Trusting him to be inside them, to not hurt them, to make them feel good. It was a fucking huge responsibility, and Dean wasn’t going to let Castiel down. He was going to give Castiel the best time he knew how.
Slowly, Dean reached down and gave Cas’s cock a couple of quick strokes with his slicked up hand, making the other boy whimper and pant. Then Dean reached lower still, past Castiel’s balls, and began to rub gentle circles with his fingers around Cas’s hole. Castiel’s breath hitched at the sensation, and Dean leaned in to kiss him, ready to stop at any sign of discomfort.
“This okay?” he asked, wishing he didn’t sound so scared.
Castiel nodded. “Hm. Don’t stop.”
“Let me know if it gets too much, ‘kay?”
Castiel ghosted his fingers up and down Dean’s sides in the softest of caresses, pulling his knees up even further to give Dean better access. Dean propped himself up on one elbow, watching Castiel’s face very closely as he slipped one finger inside his body.
Heat. Tight, glorious, trembling heat. Dean bit his lip, thinking that if this is what Cas felt like around his finger it was going to be very difficult not to come straight away if he felt it around his dick. Castiel had gone very still, barely even breathing, his eyes focused on something beyond Dean.
“Cas?”
Castiel gasped as Dean began to gently move his finger in and out. “Yes,” he whispered. “Don’t stop. It’s, ah, strange. Good strange.”
Dean swallowed thickly and kissed Castiel once more, kissed him deeply, sucking on his tongue.
Castiel bucked his hips against him with a small noise of frustration. “Dean, just... just get on with it, please! I can’t-”
“Dean huffed a laugh. “Oh, Cas... you old romantic, you.”
He slipped another finger inside Castiel, his movements surer this time, smiling at the way Castiel sobbed with something like relief and grabbed convulsively at Dean’s hips. Dean himself was painfully hard now, but he chose to ignore it. If he could just concentrate on Castiel, on making sure that he had a good time, there was a better chance that Dean wouldn’t completely embarrass himself.
Cas was thrusting down against his hand now, almost helplessly, and Dean pushed deeper until he was inside Castiel up to the knuckle. Then he tentatively crooked his fingers, explored Castiel’s insides, trying to find his prostate. He knew he’d struck gold when Castiel’s whole body spasmed and his muscles clenched involuntarily around Dean’s fingers.
“Oh God!” he cried. “Oh my... Dean, what was that?”
Dean grinned. “You liked that?”
“God, yes!” Cas gasped. “What... how? Ah!” He threw his head back again when Dean bore down on him mercilessly with his fingers. Castiel looked completely debauched, eyes closed, mouth slack as Dean completely ruined him. Dean was shaking now, his whole body singing with such unabashed want he could barely contain it. He added a third finger, and this time Castiel winced a little.
Dean paused. “You... want me to...?”
“Don’t you dare!” Castiel hissed, fixing Dean with eyes that were almost black with arousal. “I swear to God, if you even think about it I will kill you.”
Dean thought it best to take him at his word. After all, he knew that Cas wasn’t delicate, and he’d been left in no doubt that yeah, the guy really did fucking want this. Want him. Fuck.
“Dean... please... more...” Castiel grit out. “Please, I... I can’t...”
Heart hammering, Dean groped for the condom he’d dropped on the sofa and tore the little foil packet open with his teeth. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely get the thing on, and even that brief, fumbling touch made him shudder with pleasure. He really hoped that Castiel didn’t notice how clumsy and nervous he was being, and was suddenly very grateful that the other boy had no basis for comparison.
Castiel moaned in protest at the loss of Dean’s fingers inside him, but then Dean was lining himself up against Castiel’s entrance, and holy crap this was actually going to happen. “Just... relax as much as you can, okay?” he whispered, not trusting his voice to remain steady.
He pushed forward slowly, still not really prepared by how tight Cas would feel, almost too tight, but so fucking good Dean thought he was going to die from it. He inched himself deeper, breaking out into a sweat, unable to think of anything except the heat and the intensity and the muscles pressing in on him from all sides, and how it felt like some kind of fuse was blowing in his brain.
His hips bumped against the back of Cas’s thighs. He was inside Castiel, actually inside, and Dean had never really appreciated what that meant before. None of his prior experiences had prepared him for this. To be inside another person’s body and realize that it’s where you always belonged, and that maybe you’d spent your whole life looking for this, this connection, and it was the first time you’d ever felt right. It was too much, almost.
Dean looked at Castiel, and was almost frightened by the intensity in the other boy’s eyes. He didn’t make a sound, but Dean could feel the tension radiating from him, could feel it in the way his jaw was set, the way his fists were balled tightly, the way he was looking up at Dean like he was trying to ground himself.
“Cas?” Dean choked out, every ounce of his will focused on resisting the urge to just slam into Castiel again and again and again.
“It’s all right,” Cas said through gritted teeth. “I’m fine. Just... give me a minute.”
Dean’s heart clenched. He pressed soft kisses to Castiel’s lips, his neck, his eyelids. He rubbed soothing hands over his thighs, reached between their bodies where the heat was almost sinful and stroked Castiel back to full hardness. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against his cheek. “I wish it didn’t hurt.”
Gradually, Dean felt him relax. He felt the tension ebb away, the muscles unclench, and Cas began to make small noises of pleasure again, experimentally rocking his hips against Dean as if getting used to the feel of him, the length and the heat and the fullness, his breathing erratic, his hands skittering over Dean’s back and sides and arms as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them.
Dean was certain he had never been this hard in his life. His thighs were shaking with the sheer effort of holding back, and he felt like his whole body was one long ache, the centre of everything, the whole fucking universe, the place where he and Castiel were joined.
Dean made a small whimpering noise in the back of his throat. “Cas,” he rasped. “I gotta... I need to move.”
Castiel nodded breathlessly. “Yes. Yes please.”
Dean dragged out slowly and pushed back in with a sob of relief, the pleasure that throbbed through him feeling like the first he had ever known. Yeah, this wasn’t going to last long. He did it again, and was gratified by the moan he managed to pull out of Castiel.
Cas was looking up at him with something like rapture. “Dean,” he said softly, awestruck. “Again.”
Dean moved slowly, partly because he was very much aware that this was Castiel’s first time and he wanted it to be good, partly because he could feel arousal coiling tightly in his gut, making his thighs tingle, making the blood pound in his ears. He didn’t want it to be over. He wanted to make Castiel come undone first. Cas moaned and arched against him, but he wasn’t close enough, not nearly close enough for Dean. He breathed deeply, trying to distract himself by naming all the different parts of an engine in his head.
Dean hooked his arms behind Castiel’s knees and pushed his legs up even further, tilting his pelvis upwards. This, he knew, was all about the angles. He didn’t care anymore that he was violating Castiel’s innocence with this desperate, needy fuck, even though he suspected that he should. He didn’t care that it shouldn’t be like this, on an old couch in an empty house, with Castiel so broken and lost. The only thing that mattered now was that it felt like absolution, like what he’d needed all along, what they’d both needed.
It was driving Castiel crazy, and Dean couldn’t look away. He thrust upwards, trying to hit Cas’s prostate on every stroke, making his cry out wildly, gasping Dean’s name over and over like a prayer, his muscles fluttering deliciously around where Dean was seated deep inside him. It was too much. It was too intense. The hot, electric, pounding pleasure was just too fucking much and it was going to consume them both. Dean realized that he was whispering broken sentences against Cas’s cheek, obscene and loving, worshipful and profane.
Castiel was holding onto him so tightly that Dean could barely move. All they could do was rock together, chase the heat rocketing through them, praying that it wouldn’t tear them apart. “Dean,” Cas choked, lip’s pressed to Dean’s temple, hips bucking helplessly. “Dean... Dean... Dean... Oh... Oh God... Oh fuck!” As far as Dean knew, Castiel had never used dirty language before, and damn him if it wasn’t the hottest thing he had ever heard. His balls tightened painfully, and he grabbed hold of Castiel’s hips in an attempt to ground himself, an attempt to not be blown to pieces.
Castiel’s breath hitched and his body jerked against Dean’s, and then Dean held him down as he cried out and thrashed and came, head thrown back in ecstasy, fingers digging into Dean’s flesh like that was the only thing keeping him together. He looked wild and beautiful and perfect, and his muscles were working Dean so hard that his own orgasm was punched out of him without warning, so powerful it almost hurt, and he buried his face in Castiel’s neck as he sobbed out his pleasure, rolling over him in spasm after hot, shuddering spasm, making lights dance before his eyes, crushing him, crushing them both.
The first thing Dean was aware of again was his breath, stuttering and ragged, against the skin of Castiel’s throat, and how they were still clinging to each other even as the aftershocks ebbed away and their heartbeats returned to their normal pace. Still holding each other tightly like they’d come through something that was bigger than both of them, and it had been too much. The sweat was starting to cool on Dean’s back, making him shiver. He slowly pulled away a little, drawing a soft noise of protest from Castiel, and reached down to drag the blanket that had pooled at their feet up over them. He crawled back into Castiel’s arms, shaking and boneless, and Cas held him tightly, like he’d been afraid that Dean was trying to get away. Dean wanted to reassure him, tell him that everything was okay, but he was suddenly too exhausted. He rested his head on Castiel’s shoulder again and allowed sleep to take him.
A/N: For reference
Castiel
Archimedes
It's uncanny. Anyway, I haven't written porn in AGES so I hope I did okay.
Chapter 11
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8 Chapter 9
Chapter - 10 (part 2)
Author - lafleurdumal85
Rating - NC-17
Summary - High school AU. It's Dean's senior year at Lawrence High, and he's already given up on himself. It takes the arrival of the strange, intense, awkward Castiel Delacroix at the school to prove to Dean that maybe his life is worth saving after all.
Chapter warnings - language, lots and lots of sex (finally)
Spoilers - References to characters from seasons 1-6. Apart from that, it's completely AU.
Dean was wondering how to introduce Castiel to horror movies. It was difficult to know what he’d like when the guy had been so completely cut off from mainstream culture his entire life. Dean had lost count of the times he’d made a casual reference to a movie or TV show or celebrity, only to have Cas look at him like he’d grown an extra head. Still, if they were going to make this thing work he would have to get Castiel to like at least some scary movies.
Dean instinctively knew that they should steer clear of slashers, at least at first. Cas had already indicated a distaste for gratuitous gore. Maybe something with religious overtones might be the thing. The Exorcist perhaps, or Blood on Satan’s Claw. Then again, that might throw Castiel into a mortal terror considering he presumably believed in all that stuff. In the end, Dean decided to begin Castiel’s education with some of the classics. He couldn’t go wrong with Hitchcock, he reasoned, and Bela Lugosi’s Dracula was a guaranteed crowd pleaser.
Mary came up to his room with a mug of coffee while he was busy examining his DVD collection. “Mom, can I borrow your collector’s edition copy of Psycho? I wanna show it to Cas.”
“Sure, honey.” She set the mug down on Dean’s desk. “Is there something you want to share?”
Dean’s stomach dropped. He looked up at his mother, dearly wishing that his brain hadn’t chosen that exact moment to freeze. “Share?” he said stupidly.
Mary grinned. “Sam told me about your math test. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Dean’s heart started hammering wildly with relief. “Oh, I forgot.”
“You forgot? Dean! This is amazing! Come on, give me the paper and I’ll put it up on the board.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Mom, I’m eighteen!”
However, Mary was not to be argued with, and Dean ended up fishing the crumpled test paper out of his schoolbag and handing it over. It was a pleasant kind of embarrassment, and Dean didn’t know what to do with it. The last time he’d merited having something on the pin-board it had been the fire truck he’d drawn in sixth grade. He wasn’t used to success. His mind began to tentatively form a vague hope that his dad would let him attend business school in a couple of years. Or something. Maybe.
The weekend stretched gloriously in front of him. He’d work at the garage on Saturday, then he and Jo had made plans for a bad movie night. Maybe on Sunday Dean could start reading that House of Leaves book Sam had lent him. He hadn’t arranged to see Castiel, but then he rarely did on weekends. Cas’s family did not like him having a social life - just another reason why Dean really should be glad that the guy was getting out of there and going to college, but he wasn’t going to think about that right now.
Dean sipped his coffee, enjoying the bitter shudder it sent down his spine. He was looking forward to a couple of days without any drama or complications. Later, Dean considered that he had just been asking for trouble with his complacency. After all, this was his life.
His cell started ringing.
Dean followed the muted tones of Back in Black over to the inside pocket of his jacket, flung across the bed. He retrieved the phone and flipped it open, not bothering to check the caller ID.
“Yeah.”
“Dean?”
Dean sat up, suddenly alert. “Cas? You okay?”
Castiel sounded wrecked. “Dean, can you... can you get away? I really need to see you.”
Something clenched painfully in Dean’s chest. “Sure. I mean, it won’t be a problem. Where are you?”
“Can you meet me at the house? You know, the one I showed you? I’m... I can’t go home tonight.”
Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Cas, what happened?”
“I can’t talk about it now,” Cas replied, a bite of urgency in his voice. “I’m almost out of minutes. I’ll explain when you get here, just please-”
“Sure,” Dean interrupted. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He heard Castiel exhale. “Thank you. The back door will be unlocked.”
Dean hung up. Fuck. Cas never called him up like that - all their plans were made well in advance, usually fitted in around the demands of Castiel’s family. It had to be something pretty bad. And Cas wasn’t at home, which suggested that whatever had happened concerned the Delacroixs. Dean felt sick. What if Uncle Zachariah had found out about exactly how far Castiel was involved with Dean? They’d been so damn careful, erasing text messages, always making sure they had an alibi... but what if it hadn’t been enough? Dean wouldn’t have put it past Zachariah to spy on them. He bridled at the thought of the man’s thinly-veiled contempt, his obsequious smile that never quite reached his eyes. He’d take great pleasure in ruining things for them, in taking away everything good and making Castiel ashamed of who he was.
Dean shrugged on his jacket, stuffing the phone back in the pocket, and grabbed his duffel. He ran down the stairs, jumping the last three and landing cat-like on the front hall carpet.
“I have to go out!” he gasped, skidding into the kitchen.
John looked up from where he was taking a lasagne out of the oven, frowning a little. “We’re just about to have dinner. You okay, Dean?”
“Um, yeah, but I can’t stay. I have to go meet Cas, he’s in trouble.”
John straightened up, his frown deepening. “What kind of trouble?”
“Oh! Um... nothing bad. I mean, he’s not in trouble. He’s just, uh, upset about something and he needs to... Look, I... I don’t know how long this’ll take, so could I just grab some food for us?”
John gave Dean one of his heavy looks. “Dean, whatever it is you’ve gotten yourself into, get out of it. You’re just starting to get back on track; I don’t want you ruining it all with another of your irresponsible-”
“I’m just trying to be a good friend!”
“Oh, please. You seriously expect me to believe you’re running off to console Castiel? I’d have thought you’d come up with a better excuse than that.”
Dean felt himself flush red with anger. “It’s true! What the hell do you want from me?”
“I want you to be my son again! I used to be able to rely on you, Dean, but lately it’s been drinking, sullenness, fighting - and don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been raiding the liquor cabinet. Now stop being a god damn idiot and tell me where the hell you’re going in such a hurry!”
Dean’s fists were clenched so tightly the nails dug into his palms. “Forget it,” he snarled. “I don’t have time for this.” He turned and strode away, wrenching the front door open so violently it banged against the inside wall.
Dean couldn’t remember getting into his car and starting the ignition. It was only when he was a couple of blocks away and the sound of his heart beating in his ears had abated a little that he could take stock of the situation. He’d really done it this time. He was shaking, and he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Why had his dad picked that exact moment to be a douche? The one moment when Dean was already buzzing with nervous energy and really fucking needed to be somewhere? Why couldn’t he just trust Dean for once? Dean angrily shook off the knowledge that he hadn’t exactly done much to earn John’s trust of late. Because couldn’t the guy have realized that this was fucking important? Couldn’t he have looked at Dean and figured it out? Dean forced himself to breathe steadily, trying to ignore the slightly hysterical voice in his head saying you yelled at Dad, you actually got mad at him and now he’s gonna be mad at you and you let him down and you walked away from him and he’s not gonna be proud of you anymore fuck fuck fuck you’d better go back and apologize right the hell now... Dean had bigger things to worry about.
What if Zachariah knew? What would he do? Dean wouldn’t put anything past the bastard, and he strongly suspected that Michael wouldn’t be much better. They could take Cas out of school, cut his ties with the world, keep him a virtual prisoner like they did with Anna. They could even leave the area, stop Castiel from seeing Dean ever again, and what could either of them do about it? By the time Dean pulled into the driveway of the empty house, wheels skidding slightly on the gravel, crazy, half-formed plans were beginning to blossom in his mind. Plans that involved getting Cas out while they still had a chance, and moving him into the Winchester’s home. He’d think of something to tell his parents, and Castiel was legally an adult so it wasn’t like Zachariah could make him go back if he didn’t want to...
Dean ran round to the back of the house and let himself in. The key was in the lock and he turned it once he was inside, wary of the fact that he might not be the only person who would think of looking for Castiel.
“Cas?” he called, his voice echoing strangely. “Cas, it’s me!”
There was no reply, and Dean tore through the house, fearful that Castiel was already gone. But then Dean opened the door to the room, that room, that they had been in before, and found him curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a couple of blankets.
It was April now and the weather was getting warmer though the nights were still chilly, and the old house had not retained any of the day’s warmth. Castiel had lit a small fire in the grate, and its flickering light made him look older than his eighteen years.
“Cas?”
Castiel didn’t look up. He was staring at a photo he held in his hand. “Dean, I don’t know what to believe in anymore,” he whispered.
Dean was across the room in a couple of strides, grasping Castiel’s shoulder, his concern making him a little rougher than he’d intended. Castiel’s eyes snapped up to him, astonishingly blue, astonishingly sad. Then he crushed his mouth against Dean’s, pulling him down onto the couch with a hand at the back of his neck. Castiel bit at his lips, crawling into Dean’s lap, pressing their bodies together.
“Hey, Cas, whoa!” Dean gasped. “hey, what’s-what happened? Just-just talk to me a second, okay?”
Castiel buried his face in Dean’s neck, not loosening his grasp. He was panting slightly.
“Cas, what happened?” Dean rubbed his hand in soothing circles over the other boy’s back.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Castiel whispered. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Cas, did they... did they find out about us?”
“What? Oh, no! No, it’s not... I told them about Cornell.”
“And?”
Castiel shifted slightly to the side. “This was taken when we were little. Before our mother died.” He handed Dean the photo he’d been holding, resting his forehead lightly against Dean’s temple.
Dean looked at the picture of three young boys, the older two not more than seven or eight, arms around each other’s shoulders, grinning for the camera. The one on the left with the mischievous glint in his eyes must be Gabriel, the one who had walked out. The other was surely Michael, but Dean found it hard to equate the smiling, gappy-toothed blond boy with the dispassionate young man he had met. The smallest boy could only be Castiel. He looked exactly how Dean would have imagined a five-year-old Cas to look: sweetly serious with messy hair and eyes too big for his face. Dean had the stupid urge to pick him up and cuddle him.
“We were so happy back then,” Castiel breathed. “Michael wasn’t always as he is now. He used to laugh. Everything was... we all loved each other, and wanted each other to be happy. My father would talk about love a lot, how it was the most important thing. When he distanced himself, Michael changed. I think it hurt him the most because he’d always been so loyal to my father, always wanting to help him. But he just grew cold after that, and it’s like... I think now that he’s going along with everything Zachariah says because he wants to... get back at my father. You were right - this isn’t what our church teaches. The life we’ve been leading isn’t the one our father intended for us. Not that he’s around to give a damn.”
Castiel laughed bitterly, and Dean set the photo aside.
“Cas, what happened?”
Castiel sighed shakily, and Dean thought that no one should sound that tired. “Basically, I have a choice. I could stay here and let things continue as they are. Or I could go to college and never speak to my family again.”
“What the fuck?”
“And they’re all I have left. I have no idea how to get hold of my father. I don’t have an address for Raphael, and knowing him he wouldn’t speak to me anyway if he discovers I’ve quarrelled with Zachariah. Gabriel is God knows where...”
“Cas, you can’t just let these people dictate your whole fucking life!”
Castiel huffed a sigh, letting his head fall onto Dean’s shoulder. “It isn’t that easy. Dean, they’re my family. Could you do something if you knew that John would never speak to you again if you did?”
“He wouldn’t put me in that position,” Dean replied uncomfortably.
“But if he did. And the church... Dean, this mission has been my life. I know it must be difficult for you to understand, but I’ve never had... I’ve dedicated everything I have to serving God. I believed in our church and I’ve never done anything that wasn’t in its service. I don’t know how to... to live outside it. I don’t want to. I just don’t understand how they could do this. How they could not want me to have anything that is mine.”
Dean didn’t say anything. He suspected that a part of Castiel had known all along that his family would react in this way otherwise he would have told them about college sooner. “What are you gonna do?” he asked.
Castiel gave a small shrug. “Money isn’t a problem. I have enough in the way of scholarships, and Miss Bishop’s already said that she’d help me out with getting extra support. It’s just that... I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d ever have to choose. I don’t know if I can let go completely like that, but I... how can I go back there and work for them when they’re just... perverting everything my father tried to establish for us? I can’t-” He was pressing soft, fretful kisses to the side of Dean’s neck. “I can’t stand it. You’re the only thing I... Dean, I can’t stand feeling this way. Please...” His fingers tightened in the fabric of Dean’s shirt, and he climbed back on top of him, knees on either side of Dean’s hips.
Dean tried to soothe him, running comforting hands over Castiel’s arms, stroking fingers through his hair, but Castiel made a low, frustrated growl and pulled Dean closer. He kissed Dean hungrily, almost like he wanted to crawl inside him, disappear into the kiss completely because it just wasn’t enough, it wasn’t close enough. Dean could feel the tension in Cas’s body and felt an ache of love surge through him because he knew that Cas was holding back for him, that he wanted to just hold Dean down and take, but he was restraining himself because of what had happened to Dean. Because he didn’t want Dean to be afraid. That more than anything made Dean’s control slip a couple of notches. He arched up, grinding himself against Castiel and making the other boy shudder and gasp.
Castiel broke the kiss, still rocking his hips against Dean. Dean looked up at him breathlessly and thought that really no one had the right to look so fucking hot. Castiel was like some wild animal turned human, his eyes dark and wild, his lips parted and trembling. Dean reached up and touched his fingers to Castiel’s face almost reverently; impossible to believe that this beautiful creature was really his.
“Dean.” There was tension in Castiel’s voice and it made Dean shiver. “Dean, you... you know that...”
“What?” Dean blinked.
Castiel was breathing erratically, his lips kissed red. His gaze flickered down to Dean’s mouth and back up again. “There’s more that we could do, isn’t there? I mean more than... than what we’ve been doing.”
Dean was suddenly very aware of how dry his mouth was. He darted his tongue out to moisten his lips a little. “Yeah,” he croaked, not needing to ask what Castiel was referring to.
Castiel exhaled sharply. “Have you... thought about it?”
Well, of course Dean had. Thought about it in the same way he’d thought about Space Mountain when he’d been taken to Disney World aged ten. Something that he knew would be awesome, possibly the best thing ever, but simultaneously mind-numbingly terrifying. The Space Mountain dilemma had been solved by having his dad ride with him. And that really wasn’t an analogy that needed to be pursued here. Ugh.
“Dean?” Castiel grew still against him.
“Hey, yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I... I mean, yeah, I’ve... I’ve thought about it.”
Castiel swallowed. “I’d like to. I mean, I know that you’re not ready to... but I could. I’d like to, I mean. It’s just I want... God, Dean, I need to be closer. It’s not enough, it’s... I feel like I can’t...” Castiel’s hands ghosted over Dean’s skin, feverish and fretful. He squirmed against Dean, who was suddenly very aware of the power of the other boy, all that want and passion and fury in him that had been stamped on for so long, so damn long, and deserved a release. Dean realized how much he wanted this, in spite of the fear, in spite of the no going back-ness of it. He wanted Castiel so badly it hurt him inside and out, made his legs tremble, the ache and the heat and the need almost too much. Not just for the promise of the satisfaction of his own desire. More than that, it was a longing to see Castiel come undone, to give him what he needed, to set him free. He wanted to drive Castiel wild.
“Dean, please.” Castiel’s voice was all gravel over molasses. “Please just make me feel better. Just... do whatever the hell you want to me.”
Dean managed to make a cut-off choking noise. If Cas was going to start saying things like that, there was a good chance that Dean would come in his pants. With a concentrated effort to ignore the steady throb between his legs, he forced some of the blood back up to his brain again. “Cas, are you... I mean, this is... this isn’t just because of what happened today, is it?”
Castiel grew still again, and Dean immediately knew he’d said Something Stupid. At this rate his mouth would have to start charging his foot rent. His suspicions were confirmed when Castiel gave him a hard shove and pulled away from him.
“Cas, wait...”
“If you don’t want to, you could just say.”
Dean winced, cursing himself for developing a conscience. Hadn’t the rule always been that if someone you’re really into is practically begging you to fuck them, you should give them what they want instead of trying to reason them out of it? “Of course I want to!” he protested.
“So what if it is because of what happened?” Castiel stood over him, all power and tension and beauty, and Dean was momentarily awestruck that someone so damn strong, so controlled, had been willing to give themselves to him. “So what if maybe I wanted to feel good, to feel like today isn’t just the day I lost faith in my family? Is it really of such consequence?”
Dean gaped at him stupidly.
“So what, you’ll happily go to bed with any girl who’ll have you, but not with me? Dean, I do realize that I’m far from your ideal, but I had thought that-”
“What? Wait, no! Cas, that’s not... Cas, I do want you. More than... I mean, isn’t it fucking obvious?” He caught hold of Castiel’s wrist, seeing that the other boy was about to move away, terrified that if he didn’t keep Cas with him now, that could be it. Dean pulled him in. Castiel sat down next to him stiffly, still not looking at him, and Dean didn’t trust to let go of him. “You just... I’m gonna try to explain, and I probably won’t do it very well, but... Look, with you, I’m... This is new. Not just cause you’re a guy, but... you’re more than just... There’s a lot at stake. You mean more than just... And I’ve never been with anyone like this that I’ve actually loved before, and it never meant anything, and now it does, and I’m kinda terrified that I’m gonna screw this up like everything else, and I want it to be right, and I want you to feel right about it and I’m-” Dean cut himself off. He didn’t know when he’d become such a damn motor mouth or what the hell it was about Castiel that made Dean want to spill out every stupid, incoherent thought that went through his head.
Castiel, unsurprisingly, looked confused. The stupid, hysterical part of Dean’s brain realized that Cas’s confused face reminded him of that owl from The Sword in the Stone.
“So you’re... Dean if you’re just trying to-”
Before Castiel could get up again, Dean grabbed a fistful of his sweater and pulled him in. “I’m saying that I want you,” he said between hard, bruising kisses. “And I’m scared. And I’m stupid. And I’m sorry. Because I never get the things I want. And if I do, I break them.”
Castiel held Dean’s head between his hands, somehow managing to be gentle and firm all at once. He pressed their foreheads together, running a thumb over Dean’s cheekbone. “You won’t break me. Dean, please. Do this for me. Let me be strong for you. You can do whatever it is that you want. You can-”
Dean kissed him again. Kissed him because he hated Castiel sounding so broken, because he didn’t want him to doubt, even for a moment, that he was wanted. He pushed Cas back, lowering him down onto the sofa. Castiel made a quiet noise of satisfaction and pulled him closer.
Dean had always been slightly awestruck by how Castiel kissed so fearlessly, like it was the last thing he’d ever do. He kissed like he was laying claim to Dean. He kissed like he was scared Dean was going to get away. Dean himself had always held back, and it hurt. It hurt to push the surge of want and need back down, when all he ever wanted to do with Cas was mark him, crawl into his skin, take him and make them both complete. He felt like he was suffocating with the effort of restraint. It was a scary thought though, giving yourself to someone like that, intoxicating yourself with them, when they could turn around and break your heart at any moment. That kind of thing could kill you. Sometimes Dean wanted to warn Castiel not to give himself so entirely, to be careful, because while Dean felt like he’d sooner die than intentionally hurt Cas, he didn’t trust himself not to do something stupid and screw everything up. Giving yourself over to another person completely like that could burn you alive.
But then, Dean thought, what a lovely way to burn.
He’d been stupid. He couldn’t keep denying Cas the affirmation he needed; he couldn’t keep denying himself. Not when Castiel was tearing at his shirt, not when his legs were wrapping around Dean’s hips, not when Dean had been so fucking lonely for so fucking long and he’d found the one person who understood. He couldn’t be afraid anymore.
He violated Castiel’s mouth with his tongue, vaguely aware that he was making soft, desperate noises in his throat. He could feel Castiel shaking beneath him, still trying to get under Dean’s clothes, trying to get to the heart of him. Dean sat back long enough to pull his shirt off over his head and toss it aside. Castiel’s hands were already on his belt buckle, clumsily attempting to unfasten it with trembling fingers. Dean took pity on him, the adrenaline coursing through him making him feel strangely lucid. This was happening now, it was actually happening, and Dean was starting to wonder what the fuck had taken him so long.
Castiel tugged his own sweater over his head, and really how had Dean never noticed how fucking hot men were before? The feeling of Castiel’s bare skin pressed up tight against his chest was better than chocolate. There was just so much soft skin, and Dean wanted it all around him, wanted to wrap himself up in Castiel, wanted to explore every inch of him with his mouth, but there wasn’t fucking time because Dean felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t just fuck Castiel senseless.
Castiel pulled Dean’s jeans down roughly, taking his shorts with them, and Dean sobbed slightly with relief as his erection bobbed free. He let Castiel stroke him, his eyes fluttering shut as the sensations travelled all the way up his spine, but then he batted the other boy’s hand away because there was a very great danger that if Castiel kept it up this would be over a lot faster than either of them would like.
Castiel huffed with irritation, but then Dean hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his pants and pulled them down in one swift motion. He traced his fingers lightly over the material of Cas’s shorts where the fabric was tented, making Castiel throw his head back against the cushions with a hiss, his fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders hard enough to bruise.
“Dean,” Cas gasped. “Dean, please... please...”
Dean had mercy on him, and dragged Castiel’s underpants down over his hips. His breath stuttered a little as he looked at Cas’s cock, hard and leaking against his stomach, and felt his own erection twitch appreciatively. Oh yes, he was definitely a little bit gay.
There was an awkward moment when they both tried to completely free themselves of their pants which had gotten caught around their ankles, not having enough room to manoeuvre effectively without falling off the couch. But then their bodies were pressed up against each other and they both lay still for a moment, looking at each other in silent wonder. They’d never been completely naked together before. There was something so incredibly intimate about it, flesh against flesh, nothing between them. Castiel kissed him slowly, tenderly, the sense of urgency ebbing away a little because they were here, this was it, this was the moment and nothing could take it from them. Dean almost wanted to cry with relief.
Castiel lifted his knees up, hooking his ankles around the backs of Dean’s thighs, rocking his hips up slightly so their cocks rubbed against each other, making Dean whimper.
“Cas,” he breathed, lips against the soft skin just below Castiel’s ear. “You sure about this?”
“God, yes!” Castiel gasped. “I want you. I want to feel you in me. I want to know that... that you’re just mine.”
Dean rocked his hips down, making them both moan. “I don’t wanna hurt you...”
“It’s okay. I told you, you won’t break me.”
Not wanting to move away from Castiel, Dean reached blindly for his duffel where he’d dropped it beside the sofa, groping for the inside pocket where he always kept a few packets of condoms and where he’d recently stashed a small bottle of oil as well. Dean had always known that it was best to be prepared.
“Dean.”
Dean loved the way that Castiel said his name, all deep and rough and sex, how he said it more than he really needed to, even if they were alone together, as if he just liked the way Dean’s name sounded in his mouth. They were definitely going to have to try phone sex at some point - just hearing Cas’s voice was enough to make him hard most of the time.
“Dean!”
“Uh... yeah?”
“You... do know what you’re doing, don’t you? I mean, I don’t really-”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s cool. I mean, I’ve never... done this before, but I’ve been doing... research.”
Castiel laughed breathlessly. “You’ve been doing research? Voluntarily?”
“Sex research!” Dean replied defensively. “Anyway, you wanna put me to the test?”
It should have been cheesy - it was cheesy - being really turned on always kind of made Dean’s brain switch off a little and he would occasionally come out with lines that should not be uttered outside of bad porno movies, but Castiel didn’t seem to mind. He bit his lip so hard the surrounding skin turned white, and nodded sharply.
Dean swallowed hard and flipped open the cap of the bottle of lubricant, squeezing some of the cold liquid out onto his fingers and rubbing them together. He’d never been aware before of exactly what it meant to have another person trust him with their body. Trusting him to be inside them, to not hurt them, to make them feel good. It was a fucking huge responsibility, and Dean wasn’t going to let Castiel down. He was going to give Castiel the best time he knew how.
Slowly, Dean reached down and gave Cas’s cock a couple of quick strokes with his slicked up hand, making the other boy whimper and pant. Then Dean reached lower still, past Castiel’s balls, and began to rub gentle circles with his fingers around Cas’s hole. Castiel’s breath hitched at the sensation, and Dean leaned in to kiss him, ready to stop at any sign of discomfort.
“This okay?” he asked, wishing he didn’t sound so scared.
Castiel nodded. “Hm. Don’t stop.”
“Let me know if it gets too much, ‘kay?”
Castiel ghosted his fingers up and down Dean’s sides in the softest of caresses, pulling his knees up even further to give Dean better access. Dean propped himself up on one elbow, watching Castiel’s face very closely as he slipped one finger inside his body.
Heat. Tight, glorious, trembling heat. Dean bit his lip, thinking that if this is what Cas felt like around his finger it was going to be very difficult not to come straight away if he felt it around his dick. Castiel had gone very still, barely even breathing, his eyes focused on something beyond Dean.
“Cas?”
Castiel gasped as Dean began to gently move his finger in and out. “Yes,” he whispered. “Don’t stop. It’s, ah, strange. Good strange.”
Dean swallowed thickly and kissed Castiel once more, kissed him deeply, sucking on his tongue.
Castiel bucked his hips against him with a small noise of frustration. “Dean, just... just get on with it, please! I can’t-”
“Dean huffed a laugh. “Oh, Cas... you old romantic, you.”
He slipped another finger inside Castiel, his movements surer this time, smiling at the way Castiel sobbed with something like relief and grabbed convulsively at Dean’s hips. Dean himself was painfully hard now, but he chose to ignore it. If he could just concentrate on Castiel, on making sure that he had a good time, there was a better chance that Dean wouldn’t completely embarrass himself.
Cas was thrusting down against his hand now, almost helplessly, and Dean pushed deeper until he was inside Castiel up to the knuckle. Then he tentatively crooked his fingers, explored Castiel’s insides, trying to find his prostate. He knew he’d struck gold when Castiel’s whole body spasmed and his muscles clenched involuntarily around Dean’s fingers.
“Oh God!” he cried. “Oh my... Dean, what was that?”
Dean grinned. “You liked that?”
“God, yes!” Cas gasped. “What... how? Ah!” He threw his head back again when Dean bore down on him mercilessly with his fingers. Castiel looked completely debauched, eyes closed, mouth slack as Dean completely ruined him. Dean was shaking now, his whole body singing with such unabashed want he could barely contain it. He added a third finger, and this time Castiel winced a little.
Dean paused. “You... want me to...?”
“Don’t you dare!” Castiel hissed, fixing Dean with eyes that were almost black with arousal. “I swear to God, if you even think about it I will kill you.”
Dean thought it best to take him at his word. After all, he knew that Cas wasn’t delicate, and he’d been left in no doubt that yeah, the guy really did fucking want this. Want him. Fuck.
“Dean... please... more...” Castiel grit out. “Please, I... I can’t...”
Heart hammering, Dean groped for the condom he’d dropped on the sofa and tore the little foil packet open with his teeth. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely get the thing on, and even that brief, fumbling touch made him shudder with pleasure. He really hoped that Castiel didn’t notice how clumsy and nervous he was being, and was suddenly very grateful that the other boy had no basis for comparison.
Castiel moaned in protest at the loss of Dean’s fingers inside him, but then Dean was lining himself up against Castiel’s entrance, and holy crap this was actually going to happen. “Just... relax as much as you can, okay?” he whispered, not trusting his voice to remain steady.
He pushed forward slowly, still not really prepared by how tight Cas would feel, almost too tight, but so fucking good Dean thought he was going to die from it. He inched himself deeper, breaking out into a sweat, unable to think of anything except the heat and the intensity and the muscles pressing in on him from all sides, and how it felt like some kind of fuse was blowing in his brain.
His hips bumped against the back of Cas’s thighs. He was inside Castiel, actually inside, and Dean had never really appreciated what that meant before. None of his prior experiences had prepared him for this. To be inside another person’s body and realize that it’s where you always belonged, and that maybe you’d spent your whole life looking for this, this connection, and it was the first time you’d ever felt right. It was too much, almost.
Dean looked at Castiel, and was almost frightened by the intensity in the other boy’s eyes. He didn’t make a sound, but Dean could feel the tension radiating from him, could feel it in the way his jaw was set, the way his fists were balled tightly, the way he was looking up at Dean like he was trying to ground himself.
“Cas?” Dean choked out, every ounce of his will focused on resisting the urge to just slam into Castiel again and again and again.
“It’s all right,” Cas said through gritted teeth. “I’m fine. Just... give me a minute.”
Dean’s heart clenched. He pressed soft kisses to Castiel’s lips, his neck, his eyelids. He rubbed soothing hands over his thighs, reached between their bodies where the heat was almost sinful and stroked Castiel back to full hardness. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against his cheek. “I wish it didn’t hurt.”
Gradually, Dean felt him relax. He felt the tension ebb away, the muscles unclench, and Cas began to make small noises of pleasure again, experimentally rocking his hips against Dean as if getting used to the feel of him, the length and the heat and the fullness, his breathing erratic, his hands skittering over Dean’s back and sides and arms as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them.
Dean was certain he had never been this hard in his life. His thighs were shaking with the sheer effort of holding back, and he felt like his whole body was one long ache, the centre of everything, the whole fucking universe, the place where he and Castiel were joined.
Dean made a small whimpering noise in the back of his throat. “Cas,” he rasped. “I gotta... I need to move.”
Castiel nodded breathlessly. “Yes. Yes please.”
Dean dragged out slowly and pushed back in with a sob of relief, the pleasure that throbbed through him feeling like the first he had ever known. Yeah, this wasn’t going to last long. He did it again, and was gratified by the moan he managed to pull out of Castiel.
Cas was looking up at him with something like rapture. “Dean,” he said softly, awestruck. “Again.”
Dean moved slowly, partly because he was very much aware that this was Castiel’s first time and he wanted it to be good, partly because he could feel arousal coiling tightly in his gut, making his thighs tingle, making the blood pound in his ears. He didn’t want it to be over. He wanted to make Castiel come undone first. Cas moaned and arched against him, but he wasn’t close enough, not nearly close enough for Dean. He breathed deeply, trying to distract himself by naming all the different parts of an engine in his head.
Dean hooked his arms behind Castiel’s knees and pushed his legs up even further, tilting his pelvis upwards. This, he knew, was all about the angles. He didn’t care anymore that he was violating Castiel’s innocence with this desperate, needy fuck, even though he suspected that he should. He didn’t care that it shouldn’t be like this, on an old couch in an empty house, with Castiel so broken and lost. The only thing that mattered now was that it felt like absolution, like what he’d needed all along, what they’d both needed.
It was driving Castiel crazy, and Dean couldn’t look away. He thrust upwards, trying to hit Cas’s prostate on every stroke, making his cry out wildly, gasping Dean’s name over and over like a prayer, his muscles fluttering deliciously around where Dean was seated deep inside him. It was too much. It was too intense. The hot, electric, pounding pleasure was just too fucking much and it was going to consume them both. Dean realized that he was whispering broken sentences against Cas’s cheek, obscene and loving, worshipful and profane.
Castiel was holding onto him so tightly that Dean could barely move. All they could do was rock together, chase the heat rocketing through them, praying that it wouldn’t tear them apart. “Dean,” Cas choked, lip’s pressed to Dean’s temple, hips bucking helplessly. “Dean... Dean... Dean... Oh... Oh God... Oh fuck!” As far as Dean knew, Castiel had never used dirty language before, and damn him if it wasn’t the hottest thing he had ever heard. His balls tightened painfully, and he grabbed hold of Castiel’s hips in an attempt to ground himself, an attempt to not be blown to pieces.
Castiel’s breath hitched and his body jerked against Dean’s, and then Dean held him down as he cried out and thrashed and came, head thrown back in ecstasy, fingers digging into Dean’s flesh like that was the only thing keeping him together. He looked wild and beautiful and perfect, and his muscles were working Dean so hard that his own orgasm was punched out of him without warning, so powerful it almost hurt, and he buried his face in Castiel’s neck as he sobbed out his pleasure, rolling over him in spasm after hot, shuddering spasm, making lights dance before his eyes, crushing him, crushing them both.
The first thing Dean was aware of again was his breath, stuttering and ragged, against the skin of Castiel’s throat, and how they were still clinging to each other even as the aftershocks ebbed away and their heartbeats returned to their normal pace. Still holding each other tightly like they’d come through something that was bigger than both of them, and it had been too much. The sweat was starting to cool on Dean’s back, making him shiver. He slowly pulled away a little, drawing a soft noise of protest from Castiel, and reached down to drag the blanket that had pooled at their feet up over them. He crawled back into Castiel’s arms, shaking and boneless, and Cas held him tightly, like he’d been afraid that Dean was trying to get away. Dean wanted to reassure him, tell him that everything was okay, but he was suddenly too exhausted. He rested his head on Castiel’s shoulder again and allowed sleep to take him.
A/N: For reference
Castiel
Archimedes
It's uncanny. Anyway, I haven't written porn in AGES so I hope I did okay.
Chapter 11
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8 Chapter 9