Suburban War - Chapter 7, Part 2
Not long after, they start getting ready to go back to school. Most of his classmates are excited to start their senior year of high school, but Dean isn’t. He knows his dad is going to really start putting the pressure on him about trying to get a baseball scholarship; in fact, John already does mention something about baseball and college at least a few times a week.
Dean doesn’t know what he wants to do once he graduates. He tries to avoid thinking about it as much as he can, but it’s getting harder and harder to keep his head stuck in the sand when everyone around him is talking about it. The only thing that scares him more than the thought of leaving Lawrence is the thought of being stuck here forever. He knows he’s meant for more, can feel it in his very bones, but this is home, and he can’t imagine leaving it behind.
His fear and uncertainty about the future becomes more of a concern one afternoon the weekend before school starts. Dean stops by Castiel’s house to pick him up, as they can go over their class schedules with Charlie. Castiel is still in the shower, so Missouri leads Dean into the den, all the while chiding him for having a grease stain on his jeans from his motorcycle.
Dean is used to Missouri’s disapproving ways by now; he even makes a sport out of finding different ways to make her smile against her will. So when she flips her towel at him and complains about him getting stains on the furniture, he just shoots her a cheeky grin and promises he won’t sit down. She leaves him alone to wait and entertain himself, but after a few minutes he gets bored and decides to head up to Castiel’s bedroom.
He stops in the hallway on the way to the stairs, hearing voices in Dr. Novak’s office. He always does his best to avoid Castiel’s father when he can, since the cold man has always given him the creeps, so he pauses just outside the door, and is just about to turn around and go the long way to the stairs to avoid being seen when he hears Dr. Novak ask who was at the door.
“It’s Dean Winchester, sir,” Missouri replies. Dean can hear her moving things around, so he assumes she’s probably straightening up the office. Dean had asked Castiel one time why Missouri still worked for them, since he’s pretty much grown up and definitely doesn’t need a nanny anymore. Castiel said that Missouri took on more of a household manager role once he got older, and Dean always wondered why she’d want to hang around a place like this any longer than she had to, though he didn’t mention that to Castiel.
He hears Dr. Novak sigh, and there’s a rustle that sounds like maybe he’s reading a newspaper. “I had really hoped that Castiel would have grown out of his Winchester phase by now.”
Missouri huffs. “I don’t see that happening any time soon.”
“Well, even so, it’s just one more year. This time next year he’ll be going off to school, and then he’ll be forgetting all about the likes of Winchester.”
“I’m sure he will, sir,” Missouri agrees, and Dean doesn’t want to hear anymore. He turns and jogs down the hallway, knocking over a picture on the foyer table in the process.
He knew that it was expected by pretty much everyone that Castiel would follow in his father’s footsteps, but Dean has been able to avoid thinking too much about it. Deep down, he knows he was hoping that maybe Castiel would change his mind about it, would choose to stick around Lawrence, or go along with whatever Dean decides to do. He knows it’s shitty to expect his friend to just drop everything to follow him, and that’s not really what he had been hoping for; he’d wanted Castiel to want to stay with him, to find something that would make him happy separate from Dean, but that would keep him close.
He makes his way up the stairs, passing by the bathroom, where he can still hear the water going in the shower. Once in Castiel’s room, he flops down on the bed, and stares up at the high ceiling, his limbs feeling heavy with dread and uncertainty. If Castiel is going away to college, he’ll surely go to some fancy school that Dean would have no hope of getting into. He’ll be leaving Dean, and going off to a new life, and this won’t be happening in a far distant future; it’s all going down in a year. In one short year, everything will be different.
Dean closes his eyes, tries to stop thinking so much about it. He wishes they could go back to just a few weeks ago, when they were in the middle of summer vacation and had no cares in the world, other than finding ways to be alone together as much as possible.
He hears a chuckle from the doorway, and opens his eyes to find Castiel standing there, towel wrapped around his waist and hair dripping wet. Castiel closes the door behind him, walking over to the bed and sliding on top of Dean. He looks down at him with a smile on his face, beads of water dripping from his neck onto Dean’s chest, and dampening his shirt.
“Missouri and your dad are downstairs,” Dean says. He wants this, always wants anything Castiel is willing to give, but his insecurities are making him want to just cling and not let go, rather than getting the both of them off.
“That’s what door locks and very good insulation are for,” Castiel replies, leaning down to suck at the juncture of Dean’s neck and shoulder.
Dean sighs, never able to resist Castiel for more than a few seconds, and he goes to reach for Castiel’s towel to pull it off but hesitates when he feels Castiel go still above him. “Is something wrong, Dean?”
Dean opens his eyes to find Castiel gazing at him, brows furrowed in concern. They stare at each other for several seconds, Dean contemplating telling Castiel what he heard, but he decides against it. He doesn’t want to ruin the last few days before school starts by getting into a fight, and he knows that’s what will happen if he opens up to his friend right now. Instead, he slides a hand under Castiel’s towel, fingers massaging the soft flesh of Castiel’s ass. “I’m just needing there to be less clothes between us,” he teases, smirking as he runs a finger along his friend's crack.
Castiel bites his lip and moans, and after that, it’s a rush of movement, limbs flailing and urging to pull Dean’s clothes off. Soon Castiel is wearing more than Dean, as he’d neglected to pull his towel off in his determination to perform Operation: Get Dean Naked. He stands by the side of the bed, staring down at Dean’s body, eyes roaming the length of him from toes to eyes. “Someday, I plan to lick and kiss every inch of you,” Castiel murmurs, a possessiveness to his voice.
Dean’s breath hitches at the words. He feels exposed, not just physically, but emotionally, as well. He wants Castiel to claim him like that, and the insinuation that they have many more moments like this in their future is exactly what he was needing to hear right now.
Castiel spreads Dean’s legs wider, moving to stand between the vee they make, his own knees against the edge of the bed. He unwraps the towel from his waist, letting it drop to the floor. Castiel’s cock is already half-hard, and Dean moans as he watches him grasp it, giving himself a few strokes before kneeling down to the floor. Dean props himself up on his elbows, his heart beating faster once he realizes what Castiel is about to do. They’ve never taken things further than fumbled hand jobs and rutting against each other, both still too oddly shy and nervous to try anything else. Until now.
“Scoot down,” Castiel whispers, mouthing at the knob of Dean’s knee. It tickles, but not enough to ask him to stop, so Dean slides down the bed a few inches, licking his lips when he sees just how close that gets his cock to Castiel’s face. He fucking whimpers when Castiel starts to lick and suck at the inside of his thigh, his cock twitching in anticipation. Castiel’s hair is still wet from his shower, curls glistening against his forehead. Dean reaches to move the hair away from his face, a gentle caress of his thumb against the skin of his forehead that has Castiel opening his eyes and staring at him. Their eyes remain locked as Castiel moves to suck at the junction between thigh and groin, Dean’s breath catching when he feels Castiel’s stubble rub against his balls.
Castiel slides a hand slowly up Dean’s thigh, fingers teasing behind his balls before wrapping around his shaft. Dean grunts at the sensation, but doesn’t take his eyes away from Castiel’s as he shifts upwards, licking a wet line from the crease of Dean's thigh to his hipbone. Castiel bites hard at the jut, then licks a soothing kiss before sucking so hard that Dean has to wonder, staring up at the ceiling, if he’s trying to suck the bone straight through his skin. It’s just this side of painful, and Dean’s beginning to realize just how much he likes it kind of rough when his vision whites out and a cry escapes his mouth as he suddenly feels wet, hot suction on the head of his dick. He looks down to find Castiel staring up at him, full, pink lips wrapped around the swollen tip, and all oxygen has left the fucking planet because this has to be the hottest thing in existence.
Castiel’s fingers are wrapped tightly around the length of Dean’s cock as he suckles at the plump flesh of the head. He watches Dean watching him, eyes fluttering shut every few seconds as if he’s tasting dessert from a Michelin-starred chef, and Dean groans at the thought that Castiel is actually getting off on the taste of him. It’s filthy as fuck watching the head of his dick slide between those lips, spit mixed with his precome dribbling down Castiel’s chin, a line of it slicking down the bulging vein along his shaft. Castiel pulls back long enough to tongue at the slit, the tip of his tongue teasing it before moving to the underside of the head. Dean’s cock twitches as that clever tongue alternates between massaging and flicking, and he has to bite back a cry, because this pace is maddening.
Castiel is taking his time, and Dean can’t figure if he’s doing it for Dean’s benefit or his own, and the thought of Castiel enjoying this even more than him brings more heat to pool in his groin. Another bead of precome pulses from the tip of Dean's dick, and he watches as Castiel spies the liquid, licking a path from the base of Dean's shaft to the head, where he sucks the droplets down greedily, moaning and licking his lips.
“Jesus, Cas,” Dean mutters, grabbing the bedspread with each hand and fisting it, because holy mother of fuck, what did he ever do to deserve someone as gorgeous and wanton and filthy as this.
Castiel glances up at Dean and smirks, before opening his mouth and sucking Dean down whole in one go. Dean loses all coherency and almost consciousness after that because Castiel goes to town on him, swallowing him down deeper than anyone has any right to go, gag reflex be damned. Each time Dean feels the head of his cock bump against the back of Castiel’s throat, the sick fucker swallows, and the suction has Dean cross-eyed and crying out. He really hopes his friend was right about the good insulation, because when Castiel starts humming and moaning around Dean’s dick, his head bobbing up and down like some pornographic bobble-head doll, Dean loses all control, screaming out “Fuck!” as he blows his wad straight down Castiel’s throat.
He has his eyes squeezed shut, whimpering incoherently as Castiel licks and sucks him through the aftershocks of what has to be one of the most life-changing orgasms anyone has ever had, as far as Dean is concerned. He feels like Castiel not only sucked his boner, but sucked every other bone right out of his body, and now he’s just a pile of goo, unable to move or talk or think. Castiel has bled him dry, yet when Dean hears his friend’s mouth pull off the head of his dick with an obscenely wet pop, he can feel his dick twitch with a bit of interest. Down, boy, he thinks, almost giggling hysterically.
He slits one eye open to look at Castiel, who is still kneeling beside the bed. Dean can hear the faint slap of skin, and realizes that Castiel is jacking himself off. “Hey, hey, c’mere,” he mumbles, motioning with a hand for Castiel to sit up next to him.
Castiel grunts, standing up and sliding next to Dean with a hand on his cock, the red, swollen head peeking out from his fist. Castiel leans over and gives Dean a kiss, and the taste of himself on Castiel’s tongue is weird, but not gross. It makes him feel oddly possessive, as if he’s now claimed Castiel as his own. “I can, y’know, help you with that,” Dean whispers, watching Castiel continue to jerk himself.
“I don’t think you could move right now even if the house was on fire,” Castiel chuckles, breathing heavily against Dean’s mouth.
Dean closes the gap between their mouths, biting at Castiel’s lip, which elicits a whimper from his friend. “I don’t have to move much if you fuck my mouth,” Dean whispers, his words wet against Castiel’s lips. Castiel’s eyes open comically wide, and Dean grins at the look of shock on his friend’s face. “Where do you want me, and how do you wanna do it?”
Castiel stares at Dean for a few more seconds, almost as if he’s trying to gauge whether or not Dean is joking. “Slide back towards the headboard, and prop your head up with some pillows,” Castiel finally whispers, voice hoarse.
Dean feels a little thrill ghost across his skin at Castiel’s words. His tone is just shy of a command, and Dean never would have guessed before, but the thought of Castiel using him like this, using his mouth to fuck and get off, it’s something he thinks they should explore a lot in the future.
He feels raw and exposed as he weakly pushes himself up the bed, Castiel kneeling at the other end and watching him closely. His dick lies spent against his thigh, still wet with Castiel’s spit, and it should feel gross, but it doesn’t. Dean's heart flutters as Castiel starts to crawl his way up the length of his body, settling himself with knees on either side of Dean’s head. And, hello, dick in my face, Dean thinks. But before he can let himself start freaking out about it, he hears Castiel murmur Dean, please above him, and suddenly he’s staring up at Castiel’s face and opening his mouth, and Castiel is placing his dick on his tongue, and absurdly, Dean wonders if this is what it feels like to receive communion.
Above him, Dean watches as Castiel stares down, breaths shallow and lips parted. Dean closes his lips around the head of Castiel’s cock, suckling gently when he feels a drop of precome burst across his tongue. The taste isn’t the greatest thing in the world; it’s not apple pie or a cheeseburger, but it’s not too bad, definitely not like how he had been expecting. Dean swirls his tongue around the head experimentally, finds the skin satin smooth, and he feels a distinct sense of pride when he pulls a gasp from Castiel as the tip of his tongue prods at the slit.
Castiel grasps the wood of the headboard above Dean with both hands, his eyes never leaving Dean’s mouth as Dean sucks along the head. When Dean notices Castiel’s thighs quivering, he pulls his mouth away from his friend’s dick. “Cas, are you gonna fuck my mouth, or what?”
Castiel laughs shakily, reaching down to grab his cock and shove it back into Dean’s mouth. And then he starts moving, slow, shallow thrusts, at first. Dean is grateful he starts slow because he knows that, unlike Castiel, he actually does have a very healthy gag reflex. He closes his eyes, trying to adjust to the sensation of a cock sliding in and out of his mouth, and once again being surprised to learn that it’s actually kind of hot. He’d always thought that to be on the giving end of a blowjob would just be a necessary evil sometimes, something you’d have to do occasionally if you’re having sex with a guy and you want to ever be on the receiving end. But this is almost obscene in its realness, the vulnerability of each of their positions making it earth-shatteringly sensual.
Dean grabs the backs of Castiel’s ankles, anchoring them both as Castiel’s thrusts become deeper and faster. Castiel grunts as he thrusts, watching, mesmerized, as the shaft of his cock slides back and forth between Dean’s lips. Dean can do nothing but lie there and take it, take everything Castiel gives him, staring up with his face open and trusting.
Castiel’s movements become more erratic, his breathing more labored, and Dean tries not to choke as his friend goes deeper than he’s prepared for. And suddenly, he feels hands grabbing the back of his head as Castiel thrusts one last time before freezing, his body rigid as he cries out and spills his seed into Dean’s waiting mouth.
As much as Dean knew to prepare for it, it’s still a shock when the first strings of come hit the back of his throat. He swallows back a choke, and the constriction around the head of his cock makes Castiel groan, as he pulls back and grasps the base of his shaft. His cock is still spurting, and Castiel slowly jacks himself, beads of come splashing across Dean’s cheeks and lips. Dean wonders how something as ridiculous as this could be so hot, and why his first instinct is to open his mouth wide, trying to catch the milky liquid with his tongue. Castiel moans when Dean parts his lips, positioning the tip of his dick over Dean’s mouth so that he can drink down whatever Castiel has left. Dean gazes up at him, his eyes wide and taking everything in as Castiel finishes himself off.
Castiel opens his eyes and looks down at Dean, eyes raking over his face. He wipes his thumb across Dean’s cheek, smearing the come there and swiping it to the edge of Dean’s mouth. Dean parts his lips and wraps them around his friend's thumb, sucking the come off of it as Castiel watches, eyes hooded. He takes his other thumb and does the same on Dean’s other cheek, swiping the come to Dean’s lips so that he can lick it off and swallow it down, before leaning down and kissing Dean with a fierceness that he’s never felt from Castiel before. His tongue fucks into Dean’s mouth hungrily, chasing the taste of his own come down Dean’s throat.
Dean wraps his arms around Castiel’s waist, pulling him tight against him, their spent cocks bumping lazily against each other. After several minutes of making out, they both seem to lose their adrenaline rush, Castiel kissing softly along Dean’s jaw before laying his head down onto Dean’s bare chest. Dean closes his eyes, threading fingers through Castiel’s hair and humming, thinking about what just happened and how much he’d like to do it all again sometime.
“You are one filthy fuck, you know that?” Dean laughs quietly, kissing the top of Castiel’s head.
Castiel snorts, sliding a leg between Dean’s and snuggling in closer. Dean had given up the weak protests that he’s not a cuddler weeks ago; Castiel was able to see right through that, especially when every time they woke up together Dean would be wrapped around Castiel tighter than an octopus on steroids. “Takes a filthy fuck to know a filthy fuck,” Cas teases.
Hey, you don’t see me complaining, Nastiel,” Dean jokes.
Castiel raises up on one elbow to stare at Dean. “If you ever call me that, don’t expect me to suck your dick ever again.”
Dean presses his lips together to keep from laughing. “Call you what, oh King and Master of My Loins?”
Castiel rolls his eyes and lays his head back on Dean’s chest. “That’s more like it.”
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Awesome sex aside, Dean still can’t seem to kick the worry of what will happen after graduation, and it puts him in a foul mood for the rest of the day. Castiel notices, but doesn’t prod into the whys of it; he just makes sure to give Dean any space he may need, as that’s what is usually required to get Dean out of a funk. What Castiel doesn’t know is that space between them is what’s causing the majority of Dean's funk, so it puts them in this weird push-pull back and forth dilemma that Dean isn’t sure how to get out of, especially since he doesn’t want to tell Castiel what’s wrong.
They finally make it over to Charlie’s house that afternoon, and Dean is relieved to see that no one else is there. He’s just not in the mood to deal with lots of other people. Charlie pulls their schedules up on the school’s website, and they’re all ecstatic to learn they share a lunch period.
“Fucking finally!” Dean exclaims. It’s not that big of a deal, since they see each other after school, but since none of them share the same interests in school or take the same classes, it’s frustrating that Dean can go an entire school day without seeing his closest friends.
“Hey, Cas,” Charlie says. “Since when are you into woodworking?”
“What?” Dean squints at the screen and then back at Cas. “You didn’t tell me you wanted to take a woodworking class!”
Castiel smiles, fidgeting with the book in his hands. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I figured it’d be one sure way to see each other at least once during the school day, especially if we hadn’t ended up with the same lunch or study periods.”
Dean grins at his friend. “You? Are awesome.” Before he remembers where they are, he leans forward and plants a kiss on Castiel’s mouth. He feels Castiel go still against him at the same time he hears a quiet gasp next to them.
“I knew it!” Charlie screams. “I knew you both were way too happy lately! I KNEW IT!”
Dean hangs his head and squeezes his eyes shut, laughing in spite of himself as he feels his face flush. Castiel shifts next to him, leaning closer as he rubs a hand across his back.
“How long? How long have you two been an item?” Charlie asks, her voice sounding accusing.
“It started this summer,” Castiel sighs. “We didn’t tell you because, well, we didn’t tell anyone because we weren’t ready to share it. We didn’t know how people would react-”
“Oh, come on! Hello? Lesbian?”
“-And we wanted this to be just something for us for a while,” Castiel continues. “We didn’t hide it because we didn’t trust you, we just…we weren’t ready to share. Okay?”
“So that’s why I haven’t seen you guys hardly at all this summer, right? Why you always sneak off?”
Dean raises his head to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry, Charlie,” he apologizes. “We really didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. We just...” He pauses to look at Castiel, who grabs his hand and threads their fingers together. “We just wanted to be by ourselves for a while, and figure stuff out on our own.”
Charlie rolls her eyes and fights to hide a smile. “Figure what out? Like how you both have been disgustingly in love with each other for, like, forever? I’m pretty sure anyone who’s been around the two of you for more than five minutes could tell you that already.” She lets loose a sigh, turning her chair around to look back at the computer screen. “So, anyways, we’ve all got lunch together, you and Cas have woodworking class together, and Dean, you and I have study period together.”
Charlie taps away at her keyboard as Dean and Castiel both study the back of her head. “So, you’re cool with everything now? Not still mad we didn’t share-and-care with you?” Dean asks, confused.
Charlie glares at him over her shoulder. “Ugh. Yuck. No. You know I don’t like Hallmark moments. Save that crap for your pillow talk, asswipe.”
Dean leans back in his chair, chuckling. “I knew we were friends for a reason.”
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