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The best part about college, Dean had discovered, was feeling like his whole world was opening up. No more small-town mentality, no more bigoted relatives telling his dad—right in front of him—that his mom’s death had clearly ‘messed him up’ and made him ‘a bit confused.’ John wasn’t the best dad out there, between the alcoholism and the occasional abandonment, but at least he’d never stood for that. At KSU though, Dean found a whole battalion of people who wouldn’t just stand by him, but would fight in his corner. And that was the best part about college.
The worst part about college? Cas. His fucking roommate, Castiel. The guy came from some weird religious enclave where people prayed six million times a day and could barely even look at their own pre-destined wives naked. Dean couldn’t blame him for going a little wild when he finally fell from grace and got sent to Kansas State, but the dude had at least thirty tattoos and smoked enough weed that even Ash thought he might have a bit of a problem—and Ash sold him the stuff.
It wasn’t like they didn’t get along, not really. Cas was so clueless about pop culture from his tenure in Deliverance Country that he often had Dean in stitches from his sheer obliviousness. They’d spent long nights together slowly educating Castiel in the finer points of Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and even Harry Potter. (“Devil Worship,” Castiel’s mother had said. “Essential,” Dean’s friend Charlie had declared.) He wasn’t even that difficult to live with; he cleaned up after Dean more often than not.
Alright, he had an irritating habit of using Dean’s stuff without asking, and that part sucked. (“You’re so uptight, Dean,” Castiel complained. “Just ask, Cas, Jesus!” Dean constantly begged.) But, Dean had lived with his younger brother Sam all of his life so, honestly, that was no big change, and Cas never seemed bothered when Dean did the same in return.
No, the worst part of sharing a suite with Cas was that Cas was incredibly fucking hot.
He strolled into the living room from his bedroom wrapped in just a towel. He cooked breakfast shirtless, and always made enough for Dean. He put on tight, black jeans and kohl eyeliner and went out for hours drinking and dancing and smoking, but never seemed to bring anyone home; instead he stumbled in during the early hours and crashed onto the couch where Dean was invariably trying to watch a movie, ending up asleep and drooling on Dean’s chest.
It was killing Dean.
Charlie, the best friend he’d met at the college’s GLAAD chapter, listened to him moan about Castiel on a daily basis, rolling her eyes and shoving a beer in Dean’s direction. “So,” she said, “your problem is that your roommate is not only really hot, but also really nice, and he doesn’t bring anyone home at awful hours...he comes home to you?”
“Yes!”
“You’re beyond help, Winchester.”
Ash merely shrugged and Benny straight-up laughed, and no one gave Dean any sympathy at all. Assholes.
So, one Thursday morning when Castiel was in his art history class and Dean didn’t have any lectures until after lunch, Dean found himself indulging in what could only be described as a frustration self-fuck.
It was hard not to think about Cas when he masturbated, honestly, living with those endless cornflower eyes and the eternal fucking sex hair (not to mention the inexplicable abs ). What was Dean supposed to do? But that day, Dean really wanted to dig into the fantasy and burn off a little frustration. And so, he was sprawled on his memory foam mattress (college loans be damned, he’d rather live on ramen than have a lumpy mattress) with his legs akimbo, his laptop next to him, earbuds in. They had a dorm suite, which was awesome, and at least gave them each the privacy for this kinda thing, with a small kitchen-slash-livingroom combo between their rooms to buffer the sound.
Dean queued up one of his favorite videos—Charlie said people shouldn’t have favorites, but Dean was single and horny, so fuck her. It was a simple video, two dudes fucking hard under the pretense of some corny ‘let me give you a hand’ storyline. But, Dean had admitted to himself after his six hundredth watch, one of the dudes looked a lot like Cas. Well, if Dean squinted enough.
And yup, Dean was trash, so he was willing to fucking squint, okay?
The guys in the video were really vocal, screaming and gasping, and while totally unrealistic for most regular sex, it worked very well for Dean to jerk off to. It only took a couple of minutes for Dean to get into it, imagining Cas’s full lips, Cas’s wild hair, Cas’s amazing thighs clamping around his hips. The video was just reaching a good part, with the fake-Cas riding the other actor’s cock, screaming out with every thrust as the guy held his hips and pounded up into him, hard. Dean stretched his arm out across the bed, grabbing his pre-lubed dildo from where it rested, waiting, atop his designated sex towel. It was always good to be prepared.
Sliding out the three fingers he’d been working into his ass, Dean bit down on his lip, pressing the toy at his entrance and enjoying the slow, teasing burn as he worked just the tip in and out, in and out. He had to shift slightly to make the angle better, so that he could work more of the veined, rubber cock into his ass, so he sat up slightly, letting his head loll back against the headboard for a second.
For a moment, the panting and screaming of fake-Cas got a little quieter.
It took Dean a full thirty seconds—ass full of faux-cock as it was—to realize that his headphones had come unplugged and he was hearing the video through the speakers of his laptop, through his still-plugged ears.
“Shit,” Dean hissed quickly, scrambling to fix it, searching desperately through the blanket for the rogue metal connector that had been pulled out of the laptop, one hand still holding the dildo inside himself.
The door slammed open.
“What the fuck!” Dean yelled, ripping his headphones out of his ears.
Cas stood in the doorway, wide-eyed, completely frozen. He still had his messenger bag strap across the front of his hoodie and a thick art history textbook in the corner of his arm. He stared at Dean, his mouth open a little, before his eyes flicked slowly to the screen, still playing the screaming, fucking dudes, and then...oh, and then...down, to where the thick, flesh-colored toy was halfway in Dean’s ass.
“I, uh,” Castiel cleared his throat awkwardly and moistened his lips. “I heard screaming.”
“You’re supposed to be in class!”
“Professor Adler is sick.”
“Oh,” said Dean, weakly.
They looked at each other for another long second, before Dean finally got his wits back and leapt up from the bed, the dildo slipping out from between Dean’s cheeks with an embarrassing slurping noise.
“Dude, out! Come on, Cas, really!? Screaming, what the hell? Like you couldn’t tell?”
Cas backed up out of the door, hands up in apology. “Sorry, really, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”
He didn’t get any further before Dean slammed the door in his face. Jesus Christ. It should have been a boner-killer, but because it was fucking Cas Dean was left imagining twenty other ways that scenario could have gone.
It didn’t take him long to finish.
“You were doing what now? ” Charlie howled, covering her ears at the campus bar that night. “Holy-damn-shit, Dean! I don’t need the details, gross!”
“Oh, who cares,” Dean grumbled into his dollar beer. “You’re gay as hell, my parts can’t be that offensive.”
“That’s why they’re offensive, dingus!”
It was only a few more seconds before Charlie started laughing, slapping Dean sympathetically on the back. “So, Cas got an eyeful of you plundering your own booty huh, Cap’n?”
“Oh, he did not, seriously?” said Benny, coming up behind them and grabbing the seat on the other side. “Like, full-on walked in?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Dean groaned down to the bar.
“So, how’d it go?” Benny asked. “He jump right on that?”
“What?” Dean asked, dazed. “Are you insane? I slammed the door in his face.”
“Oh, Dean, ” Charlie and Benny said in unison.
Two beers later, Dean gave up on being social and decided to head back home and sulk. Cas was probably out at some bar with Meg, stoned out of his mind and trying to forget the horror he’d walked in on, so Dean figured it was safe. Tossing his keys onto the counter, Dean let out a long sigh and kicked off his boots. For once, complaining about Dean leaving crap everywhere probably wasn’t going to be top of Castiel’s list of things to gripe about. Dean pulled open the fridge, digging around to see what he had to eat—what the hell? He was sure he’d had some leftover pasta from his failed date at the Italian place with Lisa a couple days ago. She was a nice girl. But deep down...she was no Cas.
“Fucker ate my food again,” Dean grumbled under his breath as he slammed the refrigerator shut. He opened the cupboard to grab a bowl of cereal and noticed that they were out of bowls, too.
Great. Great, of course they were.
Sighing and rolling up his sleeves, Dean did a quick pass around the living room for stray plates, then went and retrieved one bowl and a couple of coffee mugs from his own bedroom. It wouldn’t hurt, he figured, to quickly check Castiel’s room, too, since he was out. And Dean was doing the dishes, anyway. He dumped his first armload in the sink and moved over to the simple white door that led to Cas’s room, opposite his own. Turning the knob, he barged in.
“Holy shit, Dean!”
Frozen and wide-eyed, their positioning was eerily familiar, yet somehow quite different. Dean’s knuckles were white on the door handle as he took in Castiel before him, on all fours on his bed, laptop open, his back arched as he reached back behind himself, plunging a dildo between his cheeks.
“Ah! Fuck, I’m so sorry, I thought you were out—wait a minute, is that my dildo?!”
Castiel immediately changed from looking angry to looking very shifty. “Maybe,” he admitted. “I was gonna boil it before I put it back!”
“Cas!” Dean was not getting hard at the thought of his toy being buried inside Castiel. He wasn’t, he wasn’t. Oh fuck, he definitely was.
“I, uh…” Castiel trailed off, not moving, his tongue darting out to lick at his pillowy lips. He seemed to come to some kind of decision; Dean saw the moment it happened, when he reset his shoulders and took a breath, pulling the toy out slowly up to its rubber rim before pushing it sharply back in again with a soft grunt. Looking up at Dean from beneath his eyelashes, Cas managed to only sound the tiniest bit nervous as he said, “Wanna come show me how best to use it?”
Life had become porn. Oh, god. Life had become really good porn.
“I—what?” Dean stammered. “Me?”
Castiel let out a moan, dropping his head down and shoving his ass upward as the toy slowly, noisily, slurped its way back out again. Dean’s resolve was shaky at best, but it disappeared entirely when his name fell from Cas’s lips, low and desperate.
“Please... Dean …”
Fuck, he was really doing this. Before he could think about it any more, Dean stepped into the room and pulled the door closed behind him. He took a shaky step up to the edge of the bed.
The way Castiel’s eyes widened with relief when Dean moved across to the bed was...adorable. It was fucking adorable, and it gave Dean the courage he needed to reach out and place his hand flat on the small of Castiel’s back, splaying his fingers over the tips of the beautifully inked black feathers that took up most of Castiel’s tanned back.
“Is this really happening?” Dean couldn’t help but whisper; but the dildo was in his hand all of a sudden, and Cas was planting both of his hands back on the mattress and curving his spine, and it certainly felt very real when Dean angled the toy and plunged it back in.
“Oh, yes!” Castiel called out, shameless, the hottest thing Dean had ever heard. “Fuck yes, Dean—stretch me out, please, fuck—”
Dean couldn’t possibly argue with that. He gripped Castiel’s hip, fucking into him over and over with the toy, rubbing it at a slight angle to seek out Cas’s prostate. Castiel shivered and yowled when he found it, and fuck, he was beautiful.
“Thank you,” Castiel said, though Dean hadn’t realized he’d been speaking out loud. Fuck.
With what looked like a serious test of his willpower, Castiel pulled forward, jerking himself off the toy and suddenly flipping over, his back hitting the mattress. He looked up at Dean, biting down on a lip that was already swollen. “Please?” was all he softly asked, before Dean was pulling off his shirt and kicking off his pants.
“Condom?” Dean asked, already heading to the nightstand.
“Yeah, right there, top drawer.”
Dean didn’t waste any time—the way he figured it, he could wake up any dang moment. He grabbed the first condom from the box, already rolling it onto his needy cock as he said, “First one out of the box, must be lucky.”
“Well, yes,” Castiel said, quieter than Dean expected. “I’ve never had need of them before. So I guess it is lucky.”
Everything seemed to suddenly stop around Dean. Shit, was this the moment when he woke up?
“You’ve never…” Dean began, standing awkwardly at the side of the bed, his cock bobbing in front of him, sheathed in slick rubber.
Castiel shrugged one shoulder. “Nope. I was kind of...waiting for you?”
Dean blinked slowly. “M-me?”
“Yes.”
“But you… you go out almost every night.”
“And then come home to you, you idiot.”
Dean didn’t have a clue what to say, so instead he crawled onto the mattress, kneeling between Castiel’s legs. He leaned forward, bearing his weight on his arms as he put one hand either side of Castiel’s chest, searching his face for a long moment. “You’re sure?” he eventually managed.
“Dean,” Castiel said desperately. “I am really fucking close, can we talk about this later?”
Disbelieving, happy laughter bubbled up in Dean’s chest. He grinned, and nodded. “Sure, Cas...one thing first, though.”
“Ugh, what? ” Castiel whined, slapping half-heartedly at Dean’s bicep, his hips twitching up against Dean, trying to find some relief for his abandoned cock.
Dean leaned in to meet Castiel’s lips, kissing him softly. Those lips had featured in every daydream and fantasy Dean’d had since the semester began, and he couldn’t go another minute without tasting them. Cas’s hands came straight up to tug at the back of Dean’s hair, their heads tilting together, Castiel’s tongue flicking out just enough to invite Dean in a little further. It was perfect, kissing Castiel deeply, mapping his mouth and cataloging the taste of his lips as Dean pulled at them gently with his own.
By the time he pulled back, Castiel looked dazed, a soft smile tugging his lips up to reveal his perfectly white teeth. “Okay,” he said, breathless. “That was good.”
“I’m glad,” Dean said, positioning himself back between Castiel’s cheeks, the head of his cock nudging at his slick, toy-stretched hole. “Because I’d really like to fuck you into this mattress now.”
Castiel started to laugh, but it was punched out of him by Dean’s firm, smooth slide forward. Dean buried himself into Castiel so deep that even when he pulled back out to set up a bruising rhythm, it felt like a part of him was left in there. When Castiel spilled over his stomach just moments later, Dean kissed him through it, still wrapped in Cas’s arms and legs as he filled the condom shortly after.
They lay panting beside each other, smiling hazily before they rolled onto their sides and met again at the lips.
“Cas?” Dean said softly, reaching out to tangle his fingers in his roommate’s wild hair the way he’d always wanted to.
“Hmm?” Castiel asked, leaning into Dean’s hand, before snuggling closer, entangling their legs together.
“We’re really gonna have to talk about you borrowing my stuff without asking,” Dean whispered, grinning.
“You’re so uptight,” Castiel whispered back, tilting his head up to press their lips together again.