Work Text:
The welcome package from the apartment complex hadn’t actually been all that welcoming, but as Castiel was a broke student, he’d take every freebie he could get. The local chocolate was fine—the local honey a boon. But the pamphlet about local singles’ nights was, honestly, a little below the belt. He screwed it up into a ball, scrunching it satisfyingly into his palm for a moment before he tossed it toward the trashcan in the kitchen. It hit the rim and scuttered away under the oven. Of course.
It wasn’t that Castiel didn’t date, or that he hadn’t. He just wasn’t sure if sitting next to Daphne in church back home, as orchestrated by their mothers, actually counted at all. He had a horrible feeling that it didn’t. Which left him in the rather depressing place of being twenty-four years old without a single date or kiss to his name. It wasn’t unusual where he came from; people didn’t do that kind of thing, out on the hundred acres of farmland and holy buildings that made up the Heaven Enclave.
He was an inexperienced, nervous Midwestern boy, corn-fed and as green as they came.
But naive and innocent, he was not. And that is what had led to him leaving and heading off to college in Kansas City, alone—his father’s untimely discovery of Castiel’s diary. The Shurley family decided that he had been “led astray” by his worldly friend Balthazar, and his choice was simple: stay and repent, or take your sins from this place.
And so Castiel stood in his tiny kitchen, alone, but free to revel in his sins.
Right then, one of Castiel’s sins walked past his kitchen window.
Tall, with muscled shoulders and sandy hair, verdant green eyes and biceps that made Castiel’s palms sweat. Dean , he’d heard the old lady down the hall call him. He was a walking dream, a wet dream at that, and he—
Was waving.
At Castiel. Through the window.
Oh.
Castiel’s brain froze, but he managed to get it back online quickly enough to raise his hand, awkwardly waving back at Dean, and return his warm, polite smile. His other hand clutched onto the edge of the counter, as if he somehow needed help to stand. He didn’t; that was silly. He didn’t.
Glumly, he bent down to retrieve the pamphlet about the singles’ nights from under the oven.
Smoothing it back out, he added it to the front of his refrigerator with a chipped magnet that advertised the local Chinese takeout place, displaying it next to the neighborhood watch leaflet. He’d thought about joining. Maybe he’d see Dean there? Turning back to the sink, Castiel returned his attention to his original, pre-Dean endeavor: washing his dishes.
He heard the front door to Dean’s apartment creak as he opened it, and so he chanced one final look up at his gorgeous neighbor. Dean was looking right back at him. Cas attempted a more natural smile…and Dean winked at him, before disappearing inside. Up until that point Cas didn’t know that he could be aroused by a wink alone, but—oh, there it was. He didn’t have too much time to dwell on the fact that Dean, sexy across-the-hall Dean, had just winked at him, because—still watching Dean’s apartment with his mouth hanging open due to aforementioned wink—Castiel realized that Dean was walking through his rooms toward the bathroom. And all his blinds were open. And he was taking off his shirt.
Castiel gave out a lusty sigh. I should make popcorn , he thought, simply gazing at the tanned muscles of Dean’s biceps, wishing he was close enough to count the freckles across his shoulders. His hands resting in the warm, soapy water that he’d prepared, Cas simply stood and stared. What he wouldn’t give to run his hands over that chest, that slim but soft stomach, tangle his fingers in that sandy hair… He was getting distracted, but he managed to quickly turn the tap off before his sink overflowed.
Over in Dean’s apartment, the bathroom light flicked on, illuminating the simple interior. White tiled and perfunctory, it wasn’t much different to Castiel’s own, just flipped so that everything was on the other side. The layout of their apartments seemed totally reversed, with the bedroom and bathroom closest to where Castiel’s own kitchen was, and the entryway door leading beyond them to where Castiel presumed Dean’s kitchen and living area must be. Musing on the layout of Dean’s apartment was a thin excuse for staring through the window at someone he barely knew, though, so Castiel turned his eyes down to the sink, attempting to clean at least one dish.
Overhead there was a shuddering, clanking noise, which Castiel recognized by then as the cheap apartment water-heaters on the next floor up chugging into action. Wait, did that mean… Oh. Castiel risked another look up. Oh…oh. Dean was getting in the shower. Did he know that his blinds were open? Castiel wondered if it’d be polite to try and alert him to it in some way, but he found that his feet seemed to have planted themselves before the sink and he couldn’t quite manage to persuade them to move. Maybe he could…he could…watch. That wasn’t what he had intended, in the slightest, but that was certainly what he seemed to have ended up doing.
Ignoring the voice in the back of his head that told him he was going to Hell—because that was already well established by that point—Castiel idly swished the sponge over his already-clean dish while he gazed through the bathroom window. Dean was tall, slightly taller even than Castiel himself perhaps, but the height of the window didn’t show Castiel all that much as Dean warmed up the water for his shower; just his chest moving back and forth as he prepared to get clean, bending over to—Castiel assumed—take off his socks and pants, before popping back up and running his fingers through his hair, loosening any remaining flakes of gel. The placement of the window worked much more in Castiel’s favor as Dean walked over to the shower, though.
Castiel struggled with the urge to cross himself as Dean’s perfect butt cheeks came into view. Holy shit.
Sorry, mother. You tried. But I really am gay. So very, very gay.
Dean stepped into the shower, and Cas found himself leaning forward slightly over the sink, just so he could watch the warm water flow down across Dean’s body. Dean had his face tilted up into the spray, his back to Castiel. His hair stuck up in wet spikes, his hands running through it a couple of times and causing wild splashes of water to flick across the glass shower door. Streams of water sluiced down Dean’s shoulders, gathering in his spine and waterfalling their way down to the cleft of his ass. Castiel wanted to chase the trickles with his tongue.
Castiel’s t-shirt was getting damp from the bubbles as he craned his neck forward to see better, but he couldn’t care—he barely noticed. His fingers clenched more firmly around the kitchen sponge, squeezing it in his hand tightly.
Over in his shower, Dean reached for a bottle of body wash—something blue, Castiel noted—and squirted a good-sized dollop of it into his hand. He smoothed it across his chest and shoulders, working up a thick lather while the spray massaged his back. Endearingly, he held onto the bottle and brought it up to his face, mimicking a microphone. He made a couple of dramatic poses, and Castiel found himself grinning as he realized that Dean was singing. He wondered what song Dean had chosen, what music he liked to listen to.
Castiel was still holding a dish, a feeble excuse for being at the window, both hands wet and occupied in the sink. Studying the muscled planes of Dean’s back, he couldn’t help but swallow harshly and shift slightly; a perk of interest already causing his old jeans to tighten across the front. Dean’s hands, as he chased soap bubbles across his skin, were large and strong-looking, though his fingers were slender and careful. Castiel desperately longed to know what they’d feel like, touching him like that.
Lowering the plate he’d been clutching back down into the water, Castiel reached instead to cling to the edge of the sink as he watched the bubbles begin to slide from Dean’s skin. He wondered if they slowed at his legs and groin, tangled in dark blond hair, or if they slid on down over smooth skin. He wanted to know . Swallowing again, Castiel couldn’t help but push his hips forward, pressing against the counter edge in front of him; something, anything, the feel of a solid surface rather than air. It was only the tiniest relief, the warmth and temptation in his groin building as Dean cleaned himself.
Dean put the bottle of body wash back onto the little shelf in the shower, and Castiel thought—part of him even hoped—that this exquisite, perfect torture would be over soon. He couldn’t force himself to turn around, but he knew he shouldn’t be watching. He shouldn’t be a voyeur. It wasn’t fair, it was…
Castiel thoughts trailed to nothing as Dean’s hand trailed sensuously down his front.
Holy shit.
Castiel sucked in a sharper breath, bringing his hips against the counter edge again, a longer press so that he could feel the pressure through his jeans, on his already half-hard cock.
Dean’s hand continued downward, and slowly, so deliciously slowly, his head tipped back. His mouth dropped open, his eyes squeezed shut. His arm began to move, leisurely but deliberately.
Oh fuck… Dean was touching himself in the shower.
Castiel bit his lip so as not to let out a whimper, not that Dean could hear. Even so, Castiel held his breath, transfixed by every tiny movement, every muscle that twitched in Dean’s back, every tilt of his head, slowly back and forth through the water. He was biting his lip now, his eyes screwed up tightly, a little smile of pure pleasure pulling at his beautiful lips— Blow job lips, Castiel thought—every time he rolled his head back far enough for Castiel to see his face.
With a choking exhale, Castiel rolled his hips forward faster. As if someone else was controlling it, the hand he’d grabbed the edge of the sink with went to the front of his jeans, upping the pressure. Just his palm in front of his cock, giving him just a small, distant sensation of touch.
No, no, he thought desperately. I can’t do this. This is wrong. Close the fucking blinds, Cas.
He was about to. He really was. He was going to reach for the cord and pull them shut, give Dean his privacy.
Then Dean turned. With just a couple of steps he rotated, moving his front into the shower spray, toward Castiel. Facing the window.
Castiel froze.
Dean’s erection curved upward slightly, red from blood and heat and touch. It bobbed in the air, both of Dean’s hands occupied giving his hair one final rinse under the showerhead. Water ran down his chest, hitting his cock and parting down each side of it, a captivating waterfall that had Castiel’s mouth going dry. Dean’s cock was long, and smooth, nestled in a patch of hair that trailed happily, subtly, up to his navel. The water stopped. Dean had reached to turn it off, Castiel realized once he finally raised his eyes from his beautiful, swollen dick. Dean reached out of the shower, grabbing a towel—clearly, he’d started himself off in the shower, pumping himself up to glorious hardness, but had other plans to finish.
Dean’s head lifted, looking out of the bathroom window. Straight across at Castiel, who at that moment was the furthest from straight he’d ever been.
Fuck, he’d been caught. Castiel felt his own cheeks inflame instantly red, and he let out a low gasp. His heart rate shot up, but not from arousal. Dean had seen him watching, caught him standing here at his kitchen window, staring obviously into Dean’s apartment. Dean was going to be so angry; he was going to complain to the apartment manager, he was going to report Castiel to the police, he’d—
Dean regarded Castiel calmly for a moment, as if checking he had his full attention, before giving a slow wink.
Castiel’s heart stuttered in his chest. Dean chased the wink with a coy, teasing grin, his eyes never leaving Castiel for even a second as his hand trailed very deliberately down, giving himself one long, lazy tug.
Lips parted, breathing heavily, Castiel realized he must look totally idiotic, standing in front of the bubbly sink, gawping openly at Dean as his hand moved back and forth once more, his gaze unerring. The smile came again—slower, more teasing, and Dean flicked the towel around himself, tying it off at his hip.
He reached forward and twirled the little wand to close the blinds.
Castiel let out a heaving puff of air he didn’t know he’d been holding. Holy shit, what the hell had that been? Whatever it was had left him with his heart beating too fast, his fingers stiff from desperately clutching the kitchen counter, and his cock achingly hard. Slowly, he dropped the dish sponge into the water.
Movement across the hall caught Castiel’s eye, and all in one instant, he understood what was happening over in Dean’s apartment.
Dean had closed the bathroom blind, wrapped in his towel, and had walked into the bedroom next door. He’d then opened the curtains that covered the double-paned window, and stood in front of them, a filthy smile on his face.
He knows I was watching this whole time, Castiel thought. He knows I was being a voyeur, taking liberties…and he likes it. Oh fuck, he likes it.
Castiel’s ribcage started to feel tight from stress and excitement as Dean delivered another slow wink. Then he turned, strolling almost nonchalantly farther back into the room. As he moved away from the window and bent to turn on the lamp atop the nightstand, illuminating the room even more (making it even easier for Castiel to see), it was obvious that he was still hard under his towel. The fabric tented up dramatically in the front, nothing subtle about it.
Carefully, angling himself toward the window the whole time, Dean lowered himself onto the bed. It was a simple pine-framed mattress and box spring, elevated off the floor in such a way that Castiel had a perfect view. The bedding was a neat, plain navy comforter and a couple of loose blankets, which Dean kicked aside as he reclined, piling dark blue pillows behind himself so that he was propped up.
So that he had the perfect view of Castiel.
Dean smiled wolfishly, his tongue darting out to moisten those fantastic, plump lips. Castiel wanted to fuck those lips, wanted to run his own tongue across them, wanted to kiss them.
His gaze unerringly forward, through the window and resting on Castiel, Dean trailed one hand down the inside of his thigh. The towel he still wore bunched slightly, riding up. His lips were parted, and even from his apartment Castiel could make out a light flush building on the man’s chest, his body reacting to the touch. Dean’s hair was in damp spikes, his skin still glossy across the shoulders from the shower. One of his hands came up and rested at the side of his neck; two fingers traced slowly downward, his head tilting to the side, his eyes slipping shut as he stroked further down, enjoying the sensation.
Castiel followed the fingers with his eyes, one hand feather-light as it moved down across Dean’s collarbone, the other tightening its grip on Dean’s thigh as he pushed his own legs apart, manhandling himself, as if someone else was touching him.
Castiel wanted to be that someone else. Imagined for a minute that he was. His cock twitched inside his jeans, uncomfortable as it was pressed to the side by the fabric. Castiel couldn’t resist giving it a squeeze through the denim as he shifted, trying to relieve the discomfort, his eyes still on Dean.
Though he supposed… Dean’s actions were clearly an invitation to look, he reasoned. And surely, he’d be expected to react, if he looked.
Dean’s hand had progressed down to his chest, and he slowly teased at one nipple, running his fingers in circles around it. He brought his head back up, opening his eyes to gaze back across at Castiel, and slid the hand at his thigh further up, the towel bunched up enough that Castiel could make out his firm ass cheeks, his perineum, and even the low hang of the bottom of his full sack as he reclined. Castiel gave out a gasp as he pictured burying his head between those legs, tonguing at Dean’s balls, sucking them into his mouth.
Desperate for relief, Castiel popped the button on his jeans, flicking the bubbles from his other hand so that he could use both of them to lower the zip and part the fabric, giving himself some space.
It must have been obvious from his small movements and his mouth parting on his gasp what Castiel was doing, because Dean seemed to sit up a little further, eyes widening with interest.
Dean pinched at his nipple, his other hand abandoning his thigh—his legs spread wide by then, bent at the knee—and moving up to untie his towel. The plain white bath sheet slipped down either side of Dean’s hips, pooling on the bed, and his gorgeous cock was once again in full view for Castiel to feast his eyes upon.
Castiel swallowed harshly, reaching down to palm at his length through his simple, pale blue boxer shorts. He didn’t know what was currently happening, but he was already fully convinced that it was the single hottest experience of his life. Which, given his lack of prior involvements, wasn’t that hard…but that didn’t detract from how fantastically porn-like his life had suddenly become. Squeezing himself through the fabric with his right hand, Castiel placed his other hand down on the kitchen counter, fingers spread, and leaned forward just slightly. He gave himself one experimental stroke through his underwear, wrapping his fingers loosely around his thick cock, and biting down on his lip.
Dean’s head tilted as he followed the movements of Castiel’s arms, and Castiel could make out his tongue darting across his bottom lip hungrily.
Dean reached for his own heavy, bouncing dick, which was bobbing an inch or so from his stomach, eager and shiny in the bedroom light. Castiel held his breath as he watched Dean grip himself firmly, his head bowing for a moment in relief. Fuck, he was so hot.
They simply watched each other, their hands moving in a shared, slow rhythm.
A delighted grin settled across Dean’s beautiful face as they masturbated, together but apart.
Flushing a little, Castiel found himself giving a low laugh, despite the arousal building low in his stomach. What a little shit, he thought. He planned this.
Dean was moving again, sitting up slightly from his pillows. For a moment, Castiel thought that he might be getting up to close the curtains, teasing done—but, luckily, he was wrong. The swoop of disappointment in Castiel’s belly at the idea quickly turned to excitement as, instead, Dean twisted to open his nightstand drawer.
A purple and white tube was placed on the bed next to Dean. The drawer was left open for easy access, Castiel noted, though the angle he stood at prevented him from seeing what was inside of it. Dean settled back onto the pillow and picked up the lube he’d retrieved. Castiel couldn’t hear anything through the windows, but his mind provided the pop of the lid and the squeezing sound as Dean dispensed a good amount onto the fingers of his right hand. Leaning back more firmly, Dean raised his gaze back to Castiel, staring through the window.
It looked as if Dean was biting his lip as he moved his hand between his legs. Castiel’s breath hitched, his hand still moving across his dick in long, slow strokes—he didn’t want to rush this. He hadn’t even pushed his underwear aside yet; he was going to savor every moment of whatever this was, and try his best to catalog every motion to memory.
Watching Castiel watch him, Dean gave his cock one full stroke, coating it from head to base in lube. Then his hand moved down further, past his balls and taint. His legs splayed apart, Dean rested two fingers on his asshole, and Castiel could just about make out his slow circling.
The angle of Dean’s hand changed; the sign that he’d sunk one finger within, probably up to the first knuckle or so.
Castiel shoved his underwear down, suddenly desperate for relief. Fuck, that was hot to watch.
He was rapt, stroking himself steadily now as Dean twisted and rocked his hand, pumping his fingers inside himself. Holy shit, Castiel had never been so aroused. He let a whimper fill his kitchen as Dean rolled his head back, exposing the long column of his throat in a way that only served to highlight his pink, bitten lips. Oh God, Castiel wanted to kiss them.
Dean’s eyes, when his head came back up, were wide and dark and needy. His hand pushed and twisted—god knows how many fingers he had inside himself by then—and his mouth fell open, a groan that Castiel couldn’t hear falling from his lips. In a way that looked almost reluctant, Dean moved his arm, withdrawing his fingers. His eyes still on Castiel, he stroked his hands along the insides of his thighs and down, rocking his hips and pulling his ass cheeks apart, gaze unwavering. He was presenting his stretched, gaping hole for Castiel to see.
Oh, fuck, Castiel wanted to fill it. With his tongue, with his fingers, with his cock. With anything Dean would allow. He had an unbelievable desire to be the one doing those things to him, the cause of those expressions on his face. Porn was one thing, sure, that was nice, but this…this was personal and intense and erotic in a way that pornography could never be. This made Castiel desperate to know what sounds Dean made, what his voice sounded like when he was aroused. What Castiel’s name would sound like on his lips. This made Castiel long.
He squeezed his eyes closed for just a moment, riding a wave of sensation as he masturbated furiously in his kitchen. When he opened them again, Dean was twisting toward the nightstand once more, rolling onto his side. He dug around in the drawer for a moment, and Castiel slowed his stroking, wanting to last, wanting to see what Dean was going to do next.
Dean pulled out a dildo.
Castiel’s breath whooshed out of him like someone had punched him in the chest and he gripped onto his cock like a lifeline. Oh, oh god, is he going to…
He was, it seemed.
Dean pushed himself up on one elbow, parting his legs and spreading them wide, one knee bent. Locking his gaze back onto Castiel once more, Dean took the thick, flesh-colored dildo in hand and brought it up to his mouth. His sinful lips shiny with spit, he pressed them to the tip of the fake cock; kissing it, slowly sliding his tongue around the head. Without looking away even a moment, Dean flattened his tongue, slurping up along the shaft, teasing Castiel, before he stretched his lips wide.
As Castiel watched Dean swallow down the dildo, his mouth pink and obscene around it, he let out a low moan. He wanted that to be him. Wanted to see Dean looking up at him, his lips straining around Castiel’s thick length, eyelashes fluttering as he gagged and gargled and swallowed.
Dean kept up his dildo blow job for only a minute, and thank god for that because Castiel couldn’t have stood much more. When Dean popped off the top, breathing heavily and with a trail of spittle still connected to its head, Castiel groaned again, desperate.
He couldn’t take much more of this.
Wasting no time, Dean slicked up the dildo with the abandoned tube of lube that he’d left on top of the navy bedcover, and lined it up against his slick, stretched hole.
Dean paused.
Right there, with the head of the dildo right between his cheeks, his ass parted and red, he simply stopped. Watching Castiel.
Castiel must be a mess, he realized. He was sweating, ferociously aroused, his jeans around his thighs and his boxers pushed far down within them, his balls hanging out over the elastic. He was fisting desperately at his cock, panting, longing.
Dean drew the toy back, and then put it down on the bed beside him. With a coy smile, he raised one hand toward the window…and beckoned.
Come. It was silent, unsaid, spoken with the crook of a finger.
It took Castiel a split second to realize that Dean was beckoning him. Though what else that crooked finger could possibly mean was a mystery, but even so Castiel’s world hit pause for a moment.
Dean, over-the-hall, super-hot, sexy-neighbor Dean, wanted him to go across the hall.
Where his stretched-out asshole was waiting…for him. For Castiel.
Castiel thought about having a minor freak out. I’ve never actually been with a man before. Or anyone. Or kissed anyone, he thought very briefly. He certainly would never, ever, have pictured his first time doing anything to have been even remotely like this. Luckily, his brain was not the part of his anatomy that was in control right then, so he grabbed his keys from the bowl where they lived on the kitchen counter, uncomfortably poked his throbbing cock back into his pants so that he could get across the hall, and headed for the front door.
Three steps got him across the narrow hallway.
He breathed in deeply, then slowly exhaled.
He knocked.
Almost immediately the door cracked open, and once a single green eye had checked who he was admitting, Dean swung it to the side.
“Come on in,” he said, his voice rich, and deep, and sexy.
Castiel stepped across the threshold, immediately noting that the apartment carried the fresh, soapy scent of Dean’s shower, and the underlying scent of apple pie. He didn’t have time to dwell on whether it was an off-season candle or an actual apple pie, because Dean—gloriously naked Dean—pushed him gently to the side, so that he could step past him to close the door.
Dean’s eyes were even greener from this close. They appeared to be an entirely fictional green, something Castiel had never seen in his life before, and he didn’t register for a moment that he was staring and hadn’t said a word.
“Can I at least get your name before you eye fuck me to death?” Dean asked, grinning. “I’m Dean.”
“Cas,” Castiel said, immediately dropping his gaze. Where it landed right on Dean’s dick. Fuck, that was no better. Feeling himself flushing a little, he brought his gaze back up and settled it firmly on Dean’s sternum.
Low and warm, Dean laughed. “It’s cool, man. I’m just teasing you. Kind of amazed that I’m standing here in my birthday suit and it’s my eyes you got stuck on.”
“Well, you are incredibly beautiful,” Castiel said bluntly. “And I’ve never seen your face from so close up, only through my window when I watch you.”
Dean’s smile turned wolfish.
“I mean—” Castiel blurted, embarrassed. He’d always been blunt, but that was perhaps a little far. “I just, you walk past sometimes, is all, and I—”
“Hey,” Dean said, surprisingly softly. He stepped up close, letting go of the door handle but not moving back from it, so that he crowded Castiel into the wall of the tiny foyer that led on into the apartment. His grin, and voice, turned coy once more. “I thought I’d made it clear that I enjoyed you watching me.”
Castiel didn’t give Dean a verbal response, only a slow nod. As soon as he had, Dean was on him; a slow, firm kiss, open-mouthed and searching, but unhurried. Castiel’s chest thundered and lightning filled his veins and his knees wobbled in the storm. He let out a whimper as Dean withdrew; Dean watched it fall from his lips, and his eyes darkened, delighted.
Dean stepped back, trailing one hand from Castiel’s shoulder down his arm, until he loosely entwined their fingers. “Bedroom?” he asked suggestively. “You’re okay with this? I’m clean, I have papers I can show you even, just got tested after summer break, so—”
“Yeah, me too,” Castiel said through his nerves, nodding. “I’m definitely clean…and yes. I want this.”
Can’t really get much cleaner than a virgin, Castiel mused to himself, following Dean as he walked. His ass was just as fantastic as the rest of him, Castiel decided.
Dean led him through to the bedroom. It looked different from over here; bigger, he decided. But somehow also smaller, filled up already with Dean.
Beautiful Dean, who was reclining, tugging Castiel toward the bed. Pulling his t-shirt—still damp from the dish soap bubbles he’d left in the sink over the hall—up and over his head, Castiel abandoned it on the floor. Dean gave a soft sound of approval before reaching out to grab Castiel’s hand once more, encouraging him the rest of the way down to the sheets. The mattress, Castiel registered, was a really nice memory foam; his knees sunk into it slowly, being welcomed, as he crawled up next to Dean. Castiel’s lips were captured again in a moment. Dean’s kisses were hot and hard, leaving little space in Castiel for any doubt or nerves. All he could do was react and give back as much as he was being given.
For his part, Dean seemed more than pleased with Castiel’s participation; his slightly softened cock already bobbing back to attention as they pressed together, the length of their bodies spread down the bed and pushing against one another. Dean’s hands were clawing at Castiel’s neck and shoulders, Castiel had one splayed on Dean’s chest, his fingers discovering how the firm play of muscle he’d been admiring felt beneath their pads, and the other hand curled around the back of Dean’s head, tangled in the short, damp hair at his nape.
“Cas,” Dean breathed against Castiel’s cheek, dragging his lips across his jawbone to his neck. “You’re so fucking sexy, man…had my eye on you since the day you moved in.”
Castiel felt himself flushing beneath Dean’s lips, but it was a heat of excitement and disbelief, and didn’t slow his own mouth in the slightest. He moved to taste the spot where Dean’s shoulder met his neck, rutting almost thoughtlessly against Dean’s side. “Same,” he managed. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen…I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“I could tell,” Dean offered, smugly. “But you seemed to blush every time I looked in your direction…didn’t seem like talking was going to work anytime soon.”
“Devious,” Castiel accused jokingly, pausing only to lick the fresh, soapy taste on his own lips, the flavor of skin and heat and Dean.
“Whatever, it worked,” Dean threw back with a grin—and before Castiel could react, Dean had rolled; he was above Castiel on the bed, their legs tangled, one of Dean’s arms caging Castiel’s head on either side.
Castiel gasped, delighted, the weight of Dean above him just another aphrodisiac. Dean sucked red welts down Castiel’s neck and onto his chest, every one of them a signature, even if Castiel didn’t have so much as a last name to go with them.
“What—” Castiel gasped out, wanting to know things about Dean almost as much as he wanted to experience things with him. “What’s your last name?”
“Winchester,” Dean kissed into his chest, trailing the point of his tongue in a circle around the rogue freckle that crowned Castiel’s right nipple. “You?” he asked, before he pulled the nipple into his mouth, flicking the nub with his tongue as he tugged at it with his teeth.
Castiel gasped out in pleasure but gathered his wits enough after a minute to respond. “Shurley,” he whispered, finding himself a little breathless already. “Castiel Shurley—Cas. I’m— shit— I’m twenty-four but”—another gasp interrupted his attempt at speech—“just starting at KSU.”
Dean nodded as he worked his way to the center of Castiel’s chest, trailing kisses through his smattering of dark chest hair and then following it on down his sternum to his navel, his tongue sending sparks down into Castiel’s uncomfortably confining jeans. “I’m in my last year,” Dean said almost conversationally, popping open the button of Castiel’s pants and working the zipper. “Engineering.”
Castiel lifted his hips, suppressing a giggle that he thought might be quite ill-timed. “Literature,” he said, as Dean tugged his jeans and underwear down his thighs as one. “I want to teach.”
The jeans made a heavy, fabric thump as they hit Dean’s brown rug.
“Enough talking for now?” Dean asked, climbing back up the bed, lazing between Castiel’s thighs, biting softly at the bolt of his jaw.
“Yes,” Castiel breathed out. “It can wait.”
“Good,” Dean said, moving farther down between Castiel’s legs. “There are other things I want to do with my mouth.”
Dean’s mouth was so fucking hot , Castiel groaned aloud. “Oh—oh god,” he gasped, his hands automatically flying down to hip-level to tangle in Dean’s hair. “Fuck, oh fuck that’s good…”
“Yeah?” Dean asked, pulling off to lick his way up Castiel’s entire length, pressing his tongue firmly into the underside of his twitching cock. “Tell me what you like, baby.”
“I’ve got no idea,” Castiel said deliriously, his back arching as Dean’s lips formed a perfect circle just below the head of his cock, his hands working over Castiel’s shaft almost like a lazy afterthought. “I’ve never done this before.”
Dean froze, pulling back just enough that Castiel’s red, glossy cockhead rested on his bottom lip. “You mean—this is—”
Far too horny to help himself, Castiel reached down to swat at the side of Dean’s head. “Don’t stop now!” he begged, whining. “Fuck! I didn’t say stop!”
The feeling of Dean laughing while Castiel’s cock was on his tongue was indescribable and drew noises from deep in Castiel’s chest that he hadn’t been aware he could make. Dean’s red, spit-slicked lips popped off Castiel’s dick and he withdrew, moving to lay down on the bed, motioning with both hands that Castiel should come and kneel above his chest. “If you like that, come up here,” he said.
Castiel moved over, straddling Dean’s chest and automatically leaning forward to grasp the pine headboard as Dean settled a couple of pillows behind his head, propping himself up at a comfortable angle.
“Pass me the lube?” Dean asked, indicating where the purple and white tube sat on the nightstand from Dean’s earlier activities. “I want to try something—you can tell me to stop anytime something doesn’t feel good, okay? Just give it a chance.”
Castiel nodded, passing over the already-sticky bottle of Astroglide. Oh, he fully intended to try absolutely everything that Dean was on board for—this was beyond his wildest dreams. “Yeah, I’ll tell you,” he said, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as Dean’s lips parted and wrapped around the head of his cock once more.
Dean flicked with his tongue as he sucked, sloppy and wet. His hands came to Castiel’s hips, pushing him slowly forward. Castiel could feel the smooth roof of Dean’s mouth curving back, spongy and slick against the top of his dick. Dean pushed further, the heat of his throat embracing Castiel’s cock. He made a gargling, gagging noise, and Castiel gasped, about to pull out, about to apologize, when he looked down to see the way that Dean’s eyes were rolled ecstatically back, his cheeks pulled into a delirious smile even with his mouth full of cock. Dean was choking on Castiel’s fat, hot dick, and he clearly loved it.
“Oh, oh damn,” Castiel breathed out desperately, his fingers digging into the headboard as his hips snapped forward. Dean gagged again, sounding somehow delighted, and his hands came up to Castiel’s ass, squeezing tight. Head bowed, Castiel nodded down, trying to let Dean know that no matter what he had planned, Castiel was down for it. He’d let this man do anything.
Castiel heard the squeeze of the lube bottle in one of Dean’s hands; felt his ass cheeks being pulled apart. A wet, warm finger circled his hole slowly, and Castiel keened out, pressing his forehead against the wall above the bed. “Fuck, yes—Dean, yes…”
One finger pushed in, then slowly another, Dean’s mouth working Castiel over the whole time. Castiel could feel the amazing burning, pulling sensation within him that signaled Dean’s first two fingers being buried up to the second knuckle.
“Ready, baby?” Dean said, popping off Castiel’s cock but leaving it resting tantalizingly against his cheek. He nuzzled against it, using his spare hand to teasingly pat Castiel’s trembling dick against his cheek. “Gonna go hard for me, Cas?”
“Yes, yes…” Castiel whimpered; and then Dean’s fingers crooked, and his mouth wrapped around Castiel’s cock once more.
Dean gagged, loud, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth as he used his fingers to pull Castiel forward, fucking him into his own face like he was a finger puppet, pressing at his prostate with every thrust.
“Dean! Fuck! Oh—Fuck!” Castiel had no idea that someone who was underneath him, pliant and face fucked, could be so very in control.
Dean’s pace was merciless, and the amount of time that Castiel had spent near his kitchen sink with his cock in his hand was suddenly a regret.
“Dean,” he gasped out, not wanting this to end just yet. “Everything feels so good, I’m getting close…”
And Dean’s pulling stopped, his mouth gone, the fingers sliding—not altogether pleasantly—out of Castiel’s ass with a slick pop.
“Sorry, baby,” Dean crooned as Castiel winced, manhandling him down onto the bed. “Can’t have you coming just yet. Want you to come in my ass, fill me up… it’s all stretched out and ready for you, Cas, did you see that?”
Castiel nodded emphatically against the pillow as he flopped onto his back. He was sweaty, panting, and hornier than he’d ever been in his life. He wanted to be inside Dean, wanted to feel Dean around him, and he wanted it right now. “Yes, I saw… saw you fingering yourself open, ready…” Castiel was aware that his voice was even lower than usual, rumbling and hazy with arousal. “I want to see…can I see, now?”
Dean grinned down at Castiel as he lay on the comforter. “You wanna see how stretched I am, Cas? How ready, waiting for you, wanting you?” Dean lifted one leg and spun on his knee, straddling Castiel’s torso with his back to Castiel’s face. He leaned forward, his hands on Castiel’s thighs, presenting his ass as his legs spread. “All for you, baby,” Dean purred again, his hard cock pressing into Castiel’s abdomen as he rolled his body forward, looking back over his shoulder.
Castiel’s hand shook as he lifted it, his lips parting in amazement and arousal. “Oh, Dean… ” he mumbled, pressing his hands into Dean’s butt cheeks, spreading them apart. His hole was shiny, wet with lube and still gaping, stretched and dark and ready for Castiel to slip himself inside. With Dean in the position he was, Castiel could barely help himself; he gripped Dean’s hips and pulled him back a little further, pulling Dean’s waiting hole toward his face.
“Oh—shit, yes, yes, Cas!” Dean yelled, getting with the program instantly. He rotated his hips a little more, opening himself up and making the angle easier. He reached back, gripping his own cheeks and spreading them wide as Castiel dove in, coming up off the pillow to fill Dean’s hole with his tongue.
The feel of Dean’s hot skin on his face as he pushed in was amazing. The sounds Dean made as Castiel speared his tongue inside, flattening it out and pushing, stretching, pressing his tongue into Dean, were absolutely filthy. Castiel’s face was sticky, covered in lube and spit, but he didn’t care; he’d give anything to pull those hot, debauched sounds from Dean. He took his time, long, luscious licks around Dean’s fluttering muscles, alternating with deep, probing thrusts that made Dean babble and whine.
“Cas!” he called out, gripping desperately into Castiel’s thighs. “I can’t—can’t take any more baby, close—”
Reluctantly, Castiel pulled back. God, he hoped he got to do that again, some day.
Dean turned back around, grinning excitedly back down at Castiel as he straddled his hips, his eyes dark and blown wide. “You’re really good at that, Cas,” he admitted, reaching across the bed to where his discarded white towel still lay. “Here,” he said, swiping it gently across Castiel’s face, clearing up the lube and slobber; the soft, considerate action somehow completely at odds with everything their bodies had done and were straining to do more of. Dean leaned down, tossing the towel aside when he was done, and pressed their lips back together.
Castiel couldn’t get enough of kissing Dean. It was all-encompassing, the feel of their hot lips sliding hungrily together burning its way down into his chest and creating flames behind his sternum. He felt like he was breathing heated air, his lungs expanding hot and full every time Dean gave him a moment to breathe. “You’re really good at that, ” he panted out in turn, much to Dean’s seeming approval.
Smiling down at him, Dean straightened back up and, reaching back behind himself, he wrapped his hand around Castiel’s desperately waiting cock. “You ready for me, Cas?”
Castiel could only nod, breathless.
“You’re sure? Talk to me.”
“Yes—please, Dean, I want to be inside you,” Castiel babbled desperately in response. “Please don’t stop now. I need it. I need you.”
With a delicious groan, Dean angled his hips up and used his hand to press the head of Castiel’s cock against his waiting hole. He slid down easy and quick, already open and aching with a need that showed itself in the way his thighs trembled; the only sign of any minor discomfort came in the way his clawing hands left white fingerprints at Castiel’s ribs. But it passed quickly, and both of them were joined in a cacophony of loud, unhindered moans.
“Oh….” Castiel called out, his mouth wide. “Oh god, you’re so hot, so tight…”
Dean dropped his chin to his chest, his eyes squeezing shut as he began to roll his hips, swiveling them in small circles as he settled and got comfortable. “You…” he panted, “have an amazing cock. So fat, so hard… god, fuck me Cas, please, fuck me…”
Castiel would never be able to resist words like that from this man, he knew. He reached forward, gripping Dean’s hips and pressing his heels down into the memory foam for leverage. Dean pressed his weight through his thighs, lifting up just enough that Castiel had space to move. His first thrust was slow, careful, and pressed him into Dean’s body with a breathy moan from them both.
“Yes, yes, more,” Dean begged.
Harder, Castiel curled his fingers into Dean’s hipbones, leaving red fingerprints like possessive nametags among the freckles. He pulled back and thrust again, firmer, faster.
“Let go,” Dean commanded, one hand coming up to pinch at his left nipple while the other firmly took his cock in hand.
So, Castiel did; pistoning up into Dean with everything he’d held back. Every smack of their flesh together was accented with a sound from Dean, a wanton yell pushed out of him with every thrust, filling the air with “Ahh!” and “Yes!” over and over.
Castiel was hurtling toward orgasm, and a look up at Dean, his muscles trembling as he furiously jacked himself above Castiel’s chest, confirmed he was in the same place.
“Cas,” Dean said, sounding desperate. “Can I—I want—” He looked down, the hand that had been pulling at his nipple coming down to spread on Castiel’s chest, splaying across it like it was something beautiful.
“Yes, please, yes,” Castiel said. “Do it.”
Castiel barely had time to finish speaking before Dean’s hot come was painting his chest with glossy stripes, Dean’s thigh muscles vibrating as he worked himself up and down on Castiel’s cock, like he was trying to push out every last drop.
The sensation was too much, and Cas was following him, filling Dean’s ass with his hot release as his nails made tiny crescents at Dean’s hips.
“Oh, yes,” Dean said breathlessly, coming down from his high and watching Castiel’s, enraptured. “That’s it, fuck, fill me up—fill me with your come baby, my ass is yours, Cas—use it, that’s it…”
Castiel shuddered, his balls tight and his vision bleary from sweat. “You…” he panted up at Dean, “have a fantastically dirty mouth.”
“I know I do,” Dean said, grinning. He used his hands on Castiel’s ribs as leverage to ease himself up off Castiel’s cock, an over sensitized hiss escaping them both, then he was flopping down on the bed, next to Castiel.
Suddenly, with their bodies separated, Castiel didn’t know what to say. Luckily, Dean seemed to.
He rolled slowly toward Castiel, flinging one arm across his chest, stickiness be damned. “That was really good, Cas. You sure you haven’t done that before?”
Castiel gave a low chuckle. “I have not. But you were very inspiring.”
Dean grinned across at him, their heads turned to face each other on the pillow. Slowly, Dean nuzzled the tips of their noses together, before pushing up just enough to press his plush lips toward Castiel once more. It was a totally different kiss to the hungry ones they’d shared; long and soft and hopeful.
“You like burgers, Cas?” Dean asked, his breath still against Castiel’s tingling lips.
“Love them,” Castiel replied, barely a whisper.
“Think you wanna eat one…with me? Us? Together?”
Castiel could feel the grin that was pulling across his face, a tiny laugh startled out of him. “You mean a date? With me?”
For the first time, Dean looked slightly apprehensive. “Well, you don’t have to. But we could, if you want. I know it’s a bit backwards and all, but—”
Castiel silenced him with a kiss.