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The first time it happens, Dean is sitting on Charlie’s couch with his legs slung over Jo’s lap. Charlie sits beside Jo as the blonde girl snuggles into her side comfortably. The three of them were engaging in their weekly cuddle pile with a side of trashy soap operas or early 2000’s teen shows. Today they’d settled on One Tree Hill, which only took an impressive amount of convincing on Dean’s part. After a shitty day filled with a stressful exam, a total lack of coffee, Cas meeting up with some hot classmate, and the fact that it was only Tuesday, Dean needed it.
“Where’s Cas?” Jo asks absentmindedly, her eyes still locked on the television. Dean huffs out a breath at the question. Cas was somewhere with some twink he has a religious studies class with, much to Dean’s disappointment. His best friend swore up and down they were just meeting to study, but Dean knew that anyone with eyes found Cas attractive. He was sure Cas wouldn’t be coming back to their apartment without the smell of someone else clinging onto him. He was trying not to think about that, though, which was the entire reason he tries so hard to convince Charlie and Jo to watch this stupid show.
“Studying,” was all Dean mumbles in reply. Charlie shoots him a look over Jo’s shoulder, but he pointedly ignores her.
“Okay,” Jo scoffs, glancing at him from her spot on Charlie’s side. “Did you ever think you could ask him to study with you instead?” The suggestive note in Jo’s voice was not lost on him.
“He doesn’t like me like that. Both of you, cut it out,” Dean practically whines when he saw Charlie open her mouth to comment. “We wouldn’t fit together anyways. I’m not his type, and we’re both tops.”
Apparently, that was the funniest thing Dean could’ve said. Jo fell into Charlie’s lap with laughter, and Charlie was keeled overtop of Jo’s body with wheezing laughter racking her body. Dean glares at the two women, affronted.
“What the hell was so funny about that?” he gripes when their ruckus dissolves into softer, breathless laughs. Jo sits up and swipes at her cheeks, her face still split in a wide smile. She scoots closer to Dean and puts a hand on his chest, rubbing there with mocking sympathy.
“Dean, I love you so much, and yeah, maybe you’re a top in other circumstances. But between you and Cas?” She breaks off with more laughter when Charlie snorts behind her. “You are absolutely not a top when it comes to Cas.” She says it as if she’s breaking bad medical news to him, although he doesn’t think doctors typically laugh their asses off when telling patients they have some illness.
Dean’s eyebrows furrow in indignation. “What the hell makes you think that?” Cas topping him? Was there some sort of criteria that Cas checks off to make him more… top-y? Dean had never bottomed before, and regardless of the crush he harbors for Cas, that still didn’t mean he’d let Cas fuck him. He could totally take Cas, hell, he would top Cas if they were ever in that situation.
Jo and Charlie share a look, probably sending messages to each other through their girlfriend-induced telepathy Dean was about 97% sure they had. Finally, Charlie looks at him with eyes glittering in mischief. “We just know,” is all she says before turning her attention back to the show. Dean crosses his arms over his chest defensively, unable to think about anything other than this stupid conversation and the fact that Cas was probably bending that classmate over a table right at that moment. Dean definitely didn’t want to be in that position. He definitely didn’t want to be bent over a table with Cas pounding into him and his hands holding Dean down. No way.
The next time came that very same week on Friday night. College parties were the most fun in his freshman year, but now as a senior he just wants to get a little drunk with his friends and relax after a difficult week of academics. He had no interest in hookups anymore, especially since he’d developed… feelings for his best friend in his sophomore year. The very same best friend was sitting next to him on a frat couch, their thighs pressed together and his arm slung over the back of the couch behind Dean’s shoulders. Dean was hyper aware of the heat radiating off of Cas, of the heavy scent of Cas’s body wash and cologne.
Dean shook himself out of the Cas related haze clouding his mind when Charlie gave a meaningful look at Dean’s hand unconsciously straying towards Cas’s thigh. He snatches his hand back into his lap, the sudden movement causing Cas to glance over at Dean with worried eyes.
“Are you alright?” Cas had to lean in close, his nose brushing against Dean’s jaw, to get close enough for Dean to hear over the pounding music. A traitorous shiver slid up Dean’s spine at the closeness and at the grit of Cas’s voice feeling like a wave of heat washing over his entire body. Dean had the urge to tilt his head and bare his neck for Cas to run his tongue, teeth, and mouth over, but he refrains. He also had to fight the simultaneous urge to lean in and breathe in the scent of Cas.
“Dean?” Cas’s voice shook him out of his stupor (the same stupor he falls into every single time he’s around Cas). Dean breathes out shakily and nods against Cas, not trusting his voice. He leans back to smile reassuringly at Cas for good measure, but Cas’s eyes still linger on him. They drift from his eyes down his nose, and land on his mouth. Instinctively, Dean wets his lips with his tongue as he notices how hot he feels under Cas’s stare. He sees the tightening of Cas’s jaw as he stares at Dean’s mouth, but his train of thought is interrupted by Meg’s voice.
“Cas, if you’re going to bend Dean over the couch can you at least wait until the room clears?” she drawls. Dean rears back, whipping his head over to glower at Meg where she’s seated next to Jo and Charlie on the couch across from them. Jo laughs gleefully at Dean’s angered look, and Dean shoots an incredulous glare at his pseudo-sister fighting back a smile behind Meg. He levels all three of the girls with a withering look, not appreciating their teasing of Cas.
“Jo!” he scolds, but it only makes the girls laugh harder. He feels Cas tense up next to him, followed by the loss of Cas’s heat behind his shoulders and at his thigh. Frowning, Dean turns to Cas. Cas’s eyes are still on Dean’s face, but his expression is blank and it makes Dean’s heart twist painfully, though he’s not sure why. After a moment, Cas turns his stare on Meg. Dean feels his heart race at the look in his eyes, carefully icy and domineering. The thought of Cas looking at Dean like that while holding onto Dean’s neck like he owns him is gone as fast as it comes.
“Stop, Meg.” Meg quiets her laughter and holds up her hands in a placating gesture, but the shit-eating grin seems impossible for her to wipe off of her face. Cas narrows his eyes at her, and Meg winks at him in return. The hell was that about? Before Dean can observe more of their interaction, Cas stands up from the couch and turns to Dean with a masked expression of nonchalance.
“Want anything to drink?” he asks. Dean wordlessly shakes his head, watching as Cas disappears into the sea of drunk college students.
It isn’t until later that night, technically morning, when Dean’s in his bed that he realizes Meg also implied that Cas would be the one doing the fucking between he and Dean. In the dark comfort of the late night, Dean allows himself to imagine just that. He bit into his pillow to stifle his moans, and he came with the imaginary image of Cas’s controlling stare leveled down at him with his hand tight around Dean’s throat.
Dean can’t stop thinking about Cas. As embarrassing as it is to admit, it’s quite typical for him to not be able to stop thinking about Cas, but it’s gotten worse recently. He really cannot stop thinking about Cas fucking him. The idea was never appealing to Dean before Cas, but the thought of Cas bending him over, fucking him until he doesn’t know which way is up, marking his body, holding him like he belongs to Cas… it’s all too much. Dean spends his nights sliding his hand up and down his dick with thought of Cas not only fucking him, but dominating him, swimming around his head and making him cum in an embarrassingly short amount of time.
Dean can barely take a break from his schoolwork without breaking off into a daydream about Cas above him, behind him, inside of him. The constant presence of his best friend does nothing but make matters worse. Over the next weeks, Dean becomes feverishly aware of the little things Cas does to take care of him, and his daydreams become a mix of insanely hot sex and sweet moments of intimacy between two people who love each other. When he complains about his throat being particularly sore one day, Cas comes home from his afternoon class with a container of soup from Dean’s favorite restaurant around campus. Dean daydreams about thanking him with happy kisses, the ones you see in movies where it can barely be considered a kiss because both people are smiling so wide.
He wonders what it would be like to be in a relationship with Cas. He wonders if Cas would let Dean settle between his legs while they were watching one of the shows that Cas definitely hates, but puts up with because he knows how much Dean likes them. He wonders what it’d be like to greet Cas with a kiss every time he got back home, if Cas would pull him back in by the back of his neck when Dean moves to pull away. He fantasizes about crawling into bed with Cas after a long day, basking in his scent and body heat and the way Cas would pull him so close that he’d practically be on top of Cas.
Dean’s known for a while how deeply his feelings run for his best friend, but it’s gotten impossible to contain to a small corner of his mind any longer. It’s spread through his entire body like a virus and his body is far too unwilling to fight how much he feels for Cas. His fingers twitch with the need to just be touching Cas in some way whenever they’re near. He has to dig his blunt fingernails into the palm of his hand to resist the urge to run his hands through Cas’s hair. He has to physically resist his body’s instincts to insert himself fully into Cas’s personal space.
His efforts to resist Cas are brutal, so instead he tries to avoid Cas without keying him onto the fact that he’s crazy in love with him. It doesn’t work.
After too many weeks of trying to do this dance around him, Cas corners Dean in their shared kitchen. It’s happenstance, really, that Dean skips the gym due to a night of restless sleep leaving him exhausted, and Cas’s sociology class being canceled due to an emergency on the professor’s end. Dean didn’t expect him to be home, so his entrance into the apartment was loud and uncaring. He nearly jumps five feet in the air when, after grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, he turns around only to be faced with his best friend mere inches away from him. Although Dean’s feet stay planted on the ground, his vocal cords still react with a high-pitched yelp that rivaled a mouse squeaking.
“Dude!” Dean wheezes, clutching his chest in shock. Cas’s face was typically stoic, only raising his eyebrow at Dean’s dramatic reaction. Dean’s panic begins to set in, especially when he realizes Cas’s hair was slightly wet indicating a recent shower. The scent of his body wash basically punches Dean in the face with the smug knowledge of his crush.
“Um—”
“You’re avoiding me,” Cas interjects. He narrows his eyes at Dean accusingly when Dean’s only reaction was his eyes widening slightly. He opens his mouth to deny it, to say anything, but his brain fumbles any possible reply. “Why? Did I do something to upset you?” Cas questions. If it was at all possible, Dean’s eyes widen even more.
“No! No, of course not!” Dean shakes his head vehemently, and without thinking he reaches out to rest his hand on Cas’s bicep to drive his point home. Cas seems to relax with Dean’s touch, his posture and eyes softening.
“I’m sorry,” Dean continues. “School has been so crazy recently and I’ve been in the shittiest moods, so I didn’t want to rub off on you or take it out on you,” Dean lies. What he wouldn’t give to spend his days literally rubbing off on Cas. “I’m sorry,” Dean adds with sincerity because he is sorry, but he can’t tell Cas he’s avoiding him because he sees him as much more than a friend. He drops his gaze to Cas’s chest to avoid eye contact and, God he had a really broad chest, realizes his hand was still on Cas’s arm. He snatches it back shyly, willing a blush not to rise to his cheeks. Dean scratches the back of his neck awkwardly as the silence between them stretches.
“I think you’re lying.” Cas’s statement causes Dean’s head to snap back up, eyes still wide with worry. Dean moves to defend himself, to try another route that would keep his secret while also letting Cas know nothing was wrong on his end, but Cas beats him to it. “I’ve known you for years, Dean. You’re my best friend. You think I don’t know when you’re lying to me?”
Was Cas walking closer? He definitely was, wasn’t he? He backs Dean up until his back flattened out against the fridge, then crowds into Dean’s space even more. It wasn’t until Cas’s chest was brushing against Dean’s with every breath each of them took that Cas stopped moving towards him. Cas leans in, still maintaining eye contact with Dean, until their faces were now a whisper apart.
“Stop lying to me,” Cas said quietly. Dean’s chest was heaving at the proximity, and his entire body jerks when Cas’s index finger touches Dean’s chin. Cas moves to angle Dean’s head in such a way that would allow Dean to close the distance between them and lock his lips with Cas’s using little to no effort at all. At this point, Dean’s heart was racing. He could feel the heat of Cas’s body, every breath he took floods his nostrils with the scent of oakmoss and rain. He wants so badly to lean in and run his tongue over Cas’s mouth, his jaw, his neck. He wants Cas to shove him against the fridge with so much force that it left bruises, he wants everything.
“I just… don’t want to talk about it,” Dean whispers, unable to think of any other excuse. Did Cas have to be this close to his face to accuse him of lying? Couldn’t they do it at a safe distance? Like maybe ten feet?
“That’s fine. You will talk to me about it eventually, though. And before you say it’s not my problem, everything that involves you is my problem, Dean,” Cas said. The breath rushes out of Dean’s lungs, the final thread of resistance ready to snap. But then Cas backs away completely, leaving Dean cold and longing.
“You don’t have to deal with everything on your own with me in your life, so I’ll be waiting for you to come talk to me.” And with that swoon-worthy line, Cas took the bottle of water from Dean’s hands and saunters out of the kitchen without a glance back.
A week later, Dean had nearly broken down about seventy different times. He wants so badly to go crawling back to Cas and beg him, on his knees if he had to, for everything and anything he would give to Dean. The problem isn’t that Dean didn’t know what he wants, the problem is that Dean knows exactly what he wants from Cas, but he was unsure if Cas felt the same. Cas is the person closest to him, his best friend, family, and home.
When Dean’s father bailed on him and his little brother, he was only fourteen. He had a ten year old little brother looking to him for guidance, and Dean had no other choice than to become a parent at that moment. Bobby was more of a father figure than John ever was, but he was still a man dealing with his own struggles and Sam was always Dean’s responsibility, at least in Dean’s eyes he was. The convincing to get Dean to agree to college was extensive. Sam prepared PowerPoint presentations and Bobby just threatened to kick his ass, but he eventually agreed.
Even when he got here in his freshman year it was difficult to give up the role of caretaker. He was calling Sam twice a day and running himself ragged to work enough hours at his job to send money back home for Sam’s college savings. Bobby and Sam both tried to shake him out of it, but it was Cas that was finally able to settle him down. He’s been caring for Dean since they first met in the spring semester of Dean’s freshman year. Literally.
Dean had gotten back on campus a week early to get some extra hours in, and he was already exhausted when classes rolled around. On the first day of his General Literature class, he ended up falling asleep on his desk-neighbor’s shoulder for the majority of the hour and a half class. He had awoken with a start when the students began filing out, and the mortification of knowing he slept on a stranger for so long was almost enough to kill him right there. The other student got the chance to speak before Dean could profusely apologize.
“I can see you worrying about it, but please don’t. You seemed really tired, and I can email you the notes I took so you don’t miss anything.” God his voice had been so deep, even then. Dean turned to him, no doubt with red cheeks, with a bashful yet thankful smile.
“That would be really awesome, man. I am sorry that I used you as a pillow, though,” Dean grimaced. Of all the people he had to nap on, it just had to be the hottest guy in the room. Hot guy just grinned at him and shook his head, then stretched his hand out towards Dean.
“I’m Castiel.” The two of them moved into their apartment together the next fall, and they’d been best friends ever since.
Cas had been the only person to dote on him, to look after him so intently. Truth be told, he was the only person Dean would ever allow to take care of him because it was so intimate to him, and he wasn’t sure he’d be prepared to lose that if Cas didn’t return his feelings. He would be okay just remaining friends with Cas, but the fear of Cas being too freaked out around Dean knowing that Dean liked him was too difficult for him to even think about.
He felt like shit for lying to Cas, but his decision of not telling Cas was solidified. The unknown was too much for Dean to handle, so he simply wouldn’t.
The absolute worst aspect of being in love with your best friend is how well said friend knows the other. Cas had already sniffed out Dean’s odd behavior and called him on his lie, and ever since then he’d been keeping a keen eye on Dean. He was around Dean more than usual and Dean could feel the constant heat of Cas’s gaze whenever they were together.
Dean was practically losing his mind. His only reprieve was when he finally got to retire to his bedroom every night and wrap his hand around his cock, stroking himself to the memory of Cas’s narrowed eyes settled on him and watching his every move like a hawk. He would take to the grave the fact that every night, the phantom feeling of Cas’s cock splitting him open is what makes him cum harder than any other fantasy he’d ever had.
The third time someone insinuates Cas would be the top between he and Dean, it’s definitely the worst instance. Of course, it’s at another stupid fucking party than Dean wishes he hadn’t gone to. Dean was already grumpy that day after he bumped his hip against the corner of their kitchen island hard enough that it hurt every time he put pressure on that leg. He wasn’t limping exactly, but he was walking a little funny due to the sporadic shoots of pain that spark down his side when he put a little too much weight on his injured leg.
Walking around the party was only making his leg hurt more, so he ends up leaning against a counter in the less crowded kitchen of the frat house. When a classmate of his strolls into the kitchen for a drink, he sidles up to Dean to make idle conversation while he mixes a cocktail.
“Cas here with you tonight, Winchester?” his classmate questions. Dean thinks his name is Adam, but he really can’t be sure. Dean shifts on his feet slightly, wincing when his hip aches at the movement.
“Yeah, he’s here.” His mouth opens again to mention he thought Cas was somewhere in the living room, but then thought better of accidentally hooking Cas up with someone on an already shitty day. Adam nods, a knowing smile on his face.
“With that limp, it looks like he already tired you out for the night, huh?” Adam jokes lightly. Dean frowns into his own drink, his mind too muddled from the noise of the party and his racing thoughts that the joke went over his head.
“What do you mean?” Adam snorts at the question and backs away from the counter with his finished drink.
“I mean the last time a hot guy looked at me the way Cas always looks at you, I was walking pretty funny for the next few days too.”
“Cas and I aren’t… together like that,” Dean chokes out. He ignores the warmth that floods his veins at the thought of others seeing him and Cas as a couple. Cas wouldn’t want that type of rumor swirling around, so he swallows back the sour taste in his mouth to be a good friend.
“Really?” Adam’s eyebrows raise in question as he nods to himself. “Interesting,” is all he says before stepping further away. Adam disappears into the crowd of students with a lighthearted wave, leaving Dean nearly stupefied in the kitchen. His and Cas’s friend group cracking jokes about Dean bottoming for Cas was understandable, especially knowing how easily riled up Dean got. But a classmate? A random classmate that only knows Dean in passing, and knows Cas even less? What the fuck? This entire school must have lost their fucking minds or something.
Having enough of being surrounded by people for one day, Dean tosses back the rest of his drink and wanders into the pulsing living room to find his friends and bid them goodbye. He finds Charlie first due to her flaming red hair, and he parts from her with a quick kiss to her cheek. Meg walks up on their farewell and offers to drive Dean home, complaining about the lack of hookups available at the party, and tells Dean she’ll wait for him outside of the house. He looks around the room once more trying to locate a tall head of dark brown hair, but when he does his stomach sinks. Next to the telltale array of brown hair is a head of blonde hair.
Adam. Adam talking to Cas. Adam in Cas’s personal space with his hand resting on Dean’s best friend’s bicep. Adam, who Dean had just stupidly told that Cas was free real estate. Fuck his life, really.
Ducking his head, Dean strides towards the door and practically jumps in Meg’s passenger seat. She flinches at his loud entrance and raises an eyebrow at him in question, to which Dean just says, “I fucking hate frat parties.” Making a face of revulsion, Meg nods in agreement as she pulls out into the street.
Dean’s head is too restless for him to sleep no matter how badly he wants to. He’d arrived home an hour ago and tried to throw himself into bed after changing clothes, but he only tossed and turned until he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d then taken a very warm but quick shower and tried to settle back into bed, but the sound of their front door opening and closing had him tensing up. He stays frozen as he listens to Cas walk through their apartment, straining to hear if Adam had accompanied him back. He’s sure he’ll become violently ill if he has to listen to Cas fuck Adam in the room next to his, in their apartment.
Only one set of footfalls sound down the hallway to their bedrooms and stop directly in front of Dean’s door. When the door cracks open, Dean remains in his frozen position. He doesn’t move an inch as he hears Cas walk further in the room. When Cas drops down onto his bed, though, it was impossible for him to ignore it.
“Cas?” he questions softly, turning to look at his roommate. Oh, that explains it. Cas is absolutely hammered. Dean sits up and reaches out to brush stray hairs away from Cas’s forehead. “How much did you have to drink?”
Cas shakes his head and wraps his hand around Dean’s wrist, then tugs the both of them down onto Dean’s bed. Cas pulls Dean against his body, and Dean is so overwhelmed with the feel of his body, the smell of him that he can’t think straight. Above him, Cas hums contently and runs one of his hands down Dean’s side, over his waist, and landing on his hip. He has to bite back a pathetic sound at the feeling of Cas holding him like this. He’d never been so happy to have forgone a shirt before getting into bed because it meant he got to feel Cas’s hand drift against his bare skin.
“Dean,” Cas half sighs/half mumbles. Dean’s teeth dig into his lip, the guilt eating at him but not enough for him to stop as he scoots closer to Cas’s body. The two of them lie silently like that for a minute while Cas’s breath begins to even out.
“You’re gonna be mad you slept in jeans tomorrow,” Dean whispers into the air. Cas chuckles above him and shifts closer, but makes no move to get out of his bed. Dean takes the final plunge into this very bad decision and throws his comforter over the both of them. Cas makes another deep sound in the back of his throat, one that Dean knows will furthermore be featured in his nighttime fantasies of his best friend. He has no idea what sparked Cas’s behavior tonight, but he honestly can’t feel bad about it. Cas is holding him close in his bed, making really hot sounds of content into Dean’s ear, and touching Dean in places that has his cock hardening in his shorts. He shifts so Cas couldn’t feel his more than inappropriate reaction to their position and wills that everything would be just fine when morning came.
Things were not, in fact, just fine in the morning. Cas was gone by the time Dean woke up, the sound of the shower in his best friend’s room giving away his location. Dean turns to the cold, empty spot where Cas had been all night with a heavy heart and tries to ignore the temptation to sneak into the shower with his friend. His hands come up to rub at his face, nearly trying to rub off the memories of last night so that he could go about his day blissfully ignorant.
But he can’t be unaware, so he rolls himself out of bed, throws a shirt on, and decides to be a good roommate/best friend. While he waits for Cas to finish up his shower, he works on cooking Cas’s favorite breakfast, a veggie omelet and fruit. What a freak.
Though it says a lot about Dean that even as he thought about how weird Cas and his food tastes were, he wore a dopey smile the whole time.
Cas finally walks into the open area of their apartment that included their kitchen and living room fifteen minutes later just as Dean was plating his breakfast. He looks wary, but not disgusted or angry, which were two of the emotions that Dean was scared of seeing the most. Dean gave him a bright smile, trying to mask his worry as best as he can.
“Hey, champ,” Dean jokes, placing the omelet and fruit in front of one of the stools against their kitchen island. “No cheese in the omelet, I promise. I know how your stomach is when you’re hungover. I can also make you coffee if you want, but you were pretty drunk last night, so I’d stick with water if I were you.” Cas snorts, followed by a wince, as he sits down in front of the food. He shoots an inscrutable look at Dean and glances away before he could really process it.
“Thank you,” Cas grumbles. He takes the cold water bottle Dean was handing to him and swallows nearly the entire bottle in one go. Dean turns back to the stove to keep himself busy so that he doesn't stare at the way Cas’s throat works or the sounds of satisfaction he was making.
Behind him, Cas clears his throat before speaking up carefully. “I… apologize for last night. I drank more than I intended to last night, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” The only thing uncomfortable about last night was the dull throbbing of Dean’s cock as he tried to fall asleep with Cas clinging to his body. Dean steals his resolve before he turns around to face Cas, although it wouldn’t take much for him to cave. He already misses the feeling of being snug against Cas, and it would be so easy to slide up against Cas, to wrap his arms around him. He wants to so badly, but he won’t. He can’t.
“It’s no big deal, Cas,” Dean says with an easy smile. Cas’s eyes flit over his face with a small frown, and Dean goes on while trying not to ramble nervously. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable or anything, and I’m happy to be able to take care of you like you always do for me.”
“Did I…” Cas’s mouth shuts for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes unfocused. “Did I say anything?” he asks hesitantly. It’s Dean’s turn to furrow his eyebrows in confusion as he thinks back to their encounter last night. He’s pretty sure the only thing Cas said was Dean’s name before he passed out cold. What the hell did Cas think he said?
“You really didn’t say anything, you fell asleep pretty fast.” Cas sighs, his shoulders drooping, and goes back to eating like nothing’s wrong. Dean stares at him, bewildered, but doesn’t bring it up again.
Dean has never felt so full in his entire life. Cas is everywhere around him, inside of him, and just the knowledge of that makes his head swim. He fucks Dean so hard that his headboard hits his bedroom wall over, over, and over. Dean digs his nails into Cas’s shoulders and scratches his skin with every thrust back inside of his body.
“You’re gonna cum like this,” Cas pants above him. It’s not a question, it’s a statement, like he’s ordering Dean to cum without being touched. Dean shakes his head feverishly, not believing he’s even capable of pulling that one off. The angle of Cas’s hips make the head of his cock nail Dean’s prostate with every thrust, and Dean has long forgone trying to play it cool. His mouth is wide open and spilling an endless flow of pleas, moans, and whines.
“You can, doll. You will .” Cas practically growls the last statement, his hands pushing Dean’s thighs further towards his chest to fuck him deeper. Dean’s back arches off the bed and, holy fucking shit, he’s going to cum. His stomach coils with heat as his cock twitches with pending release. He should be able to say it’s a familiar feeling, but he’s certain he’s never felt the urge to cum this badly, that it’s never once been this intense.
“Cas, Cas—uh! Please, right there!” Dean’s voice cracks on his cries, spurring Cas’s hips on faster. He’s so fucking close, he can almost taste it. He can taste Cas, he can smell him so intensely while they’re this close. His skin burns with desire when Cas moves even closer to grunt and moan directly in his ear. Dean realizes then that he’s going to cum inside of him, fill him up so well that he’ll never be rid of him, make him feel even fuller than he does right—
Bang!
The sound of Dean’s phone slipping off of his nightstand and onto the floor makes him jerk upright in bed, his chest heaving and drenched in sweat. A shocked moan falls from his lips as his cock twitches in his shorts. Dean’s too sleepy to hold back his broken moans as he comes inside of his shorts, not only untouched but from a fucking dream.
The fourth time, it’s his own fucking brain that taunts him with the image of Cas topping him, the traitor. Dean slumps back down into bed, still panting even though his mouth is so dry that it’s painful. He feels so empty now that he’s awake and robbed of the feeling of dream-Cas buried so deep inside of his body that Dean could never forget it. It wasn’t real, but Dean would never be able to go back to not knowing what it felt like. Cas had ruined him without ever laying a goddamn hand on him, leaving an ache of emptiness that Dean had never felt before.
There’s not even a way for Dean to solve the issue. He can’t confess what he feels to Cas and hooking up with anyone other than Cas hadn’t interested him for over a year. His right hand had kept him afloat ever since, but he knew it couldn’t be enough anymore. He already misses the feeling of being filled up. Tomorrow, Dean decided, he’s just going to have to invest in something that he can use to fuck himself in an attempt to satisfy the itch that had been building for a month.
He hadn’t experienced Cas’s cock stretching him open, but he didn’t need to to be sure that nothing else would truly satisfy him.
He was right in a way. There was no doubt he came harder than he ever had while on his hands and knees, his left hand working a thick dildo inside of himself. Dean had to bury his face into his sheets, eventually biting down and tearing at the fabric, to keep his cries of pleasure from escaping the safety of his own room. He really didn’t need Cas hearing the desperate sobs of his name that Dean was unable to keep from breaking free.
On the other hand (no pun intended, seriously), the cold, impersonal silicone left Dean craving Cas. He wants his voice, his warmth, his grip, him. He wants Cas so badly that it’s nearly making him lose his mind.
He tries to spend more time out of their apartment instead of inside of it, giving excuses of studying with classmates, hanging out at Jo and Charlie’s place, anything he can think of really. Cas gives him a blank look each time he lies to get out of the apartment. Dean knows that Cas knows, but he can’t bring himself to explain his reasons.
He thinks Cas is trying to torture him by walking around the apartment shirtless or with a shirt tight enough that it’d almost be better if he was shirtless. He can’t do anything that doesn’t turn Dean on. Watching him cook, seeing him prop his laptop on his thighs while he types away with a focused expression, catching him leaning back on the couch with his feet resting on their coffee table and his arm slung around the back of the furniture. That one in particular is almost detrimental to Dean’s state of mind, so when he steps out of his room and sees Cas sprawled out like that again, he nearly dashes out of the apartment. He throws an excuse of going to see Jo and doesn’t wait for a response, nor does he turn to look at Cas, before rushing out.
He considers actually going to see Jo, but his head is so full of so many warring thoughts that he doesn’t think he could handle being around people right now. He settles for grabbing dinner at a restaurant on campus before retiring to the library for an hour or so, thankful he grabbed his backpack and laptop before leaving the apartment. It’s easy enough to get lost working on assignments, and it’s nearly midnight when he finally returns home.
He enters as quietly as possible, knowing Cas has an early class the next morning and is likely already asleep. Fate apparently has it out for him, though, because Cas is seated at the kitchen counter and very much awake when Dean walks in.
“What are you doing awake?” Dean asks, the worry for Cas’s wellbeing making the question slip out before he can think better of it. Cas doesn’t exactly look angry, but he doesn’t look happy. He stares at Dean silently, one arm resting on the island and looking God-awfully hot. Dean holds back a frown as he slips his backpack off of his shoulder and regards Cas.
After a painful moment of silence, Cas finally speaks up. “How was Jo’s?” Dean thinks he almost sounds… accusatory, but he supposes it’s his own fault. He knew Cas was onto his avoidance.
“It was good,” Dean says warily, coming up to stand on the opposite side of Cas’s seated position. Cas hums with a nod, but his shoulders become more tense.
“That’s funny,” Cas begins, and, okay, Dean can now certainly hear the underlying anger in his voice. “Because she came by an hour ago to drop off the jacket you left at her place last week and told me she hasn’t seen you since then.”
Oh fuck. Dean’s eyes widen as his brain scrambles for an excuse. He must’ve said he went over to Jo’s about four times since the last time he actually went to see her, which means Cas now knows he was lying at least all four of those times. He tries to say something, anything, but under Cas’s angered stare, he feels the walls he tried to build up in his head come down. If Cas was accusing him then, the look in Dean’s eyes must’ve answered guiltily. He looks angerier than he did before, his jaw ticking as he looks away. He stands and begins to walk away from Dean towards his room, but Dean feels panic start to set in.
“Cas! I’m sorry I lied. I—” Dean cuts himself off when Cas whirls around, eyes blazing.
“Why would you lie to me? We’re friends ,” he practically spits the word. “If you’re dating someone, you can fucking tell me. You don’t have to sneak out of our apartment and lie about going to see them. I’m not a child, Dean, you don’t have to spare my feelings.” Dean’s brows crease in confusion, his head absentmindedly shaking to deny what Cas is saying.
“Dating someone? I’m not dating someone, Cas,” he says, trying to steel his voice with conviction. As if anyone could compare to the man standing in front of him. He’d given up trying to do that the very same year that he fell in love with Cas.
Cas obviously doesn’t believe him. He rolls his eyes with a scoff before pinning Dean with that same look of simmering fury.
“I’m not a fucking child ,” he repeats. “You think I don’t know the lying hasn’t just been this week? It’s been nearly the entire fucking semester, Dean! I’m not stupid. I’ve known you were hiding something for a while, but all of this lying? That’s low.” Hurt flashes in Cas’s voice, but he knows he didn’t want Dean to hear that emotion.
Dean’s head is still trying to find a way out of the accusations, a way to make Cas believe he really isn’t seeing someone without spilling his guts. But he can see Cas is already pulling away, putting metaphorical and literal distance between him and his best friend.
Panicked, Dean’s mouth blurts out a not fully formed excuse of, “I couldn’t take being around you!” Okay, that’s definitely not what he wanted to say. It’s also one hundred percent impossible to explain that comment without telling Cas he’s in love with him.
Cas rears back as if Dean hit him, hurt and betrayal written clear as day on his face now. God, how can he fix what just came out of his mouth? Should he just spit it out? Rid himself of the burden that was carrying around his secret? Maybe he could just tell Cas he was having confusing feelings and didn’t want to hurt their friendship.
But Cas is backing away now, and Dean can tell he has to do something to fix it now or it might be able to be fixed later.
It’s his brain’s fault again, really, for acting involuntarily. Dean surges forward, fists Cas’s stupid, insanely tight t-shirt, and yanks him close to seal their lips together. Every part of Dean’s body simultaneously melts and explodes all at once. A relieved sigh escapes his lungs and his shoulders sink as his body sings with satisfaction. Dean presses himself flush against Cas’s body, and it only takes a second before Cas’s arms slide around his waist to secure him.
Dean isn’t sure if he slides his tongue against Cas’s lips first or vice versa, but it only takes seconds for Cas to be licking into his mouth with abandon. Dean clutches onto Cas’s broad shoulders as the two of them stumble towards the couch, seemingly unable to break their kiss to look where they’re going. When Dean’s back is flat on the couch and Cas is looming over him, his hands everywhere while their tongues slide against each other, he doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on. He rocks his hips upward desperately, needing some relief on his cock while Cas practically devours him.
Cas is the first one to break away, but it’s only to pull at the hem of Dean’s shirt. Dean happily leans up to let Cas rid him of it, then tugs at Cas’s shirt mindlessly. The feeling of Cas’s bare chest against his own makes Dean moan, the sound swallowed up by Cas’s returning mouth.
“Off,” Dean breathes into Cas’s mouth, his hands pushing at the pair of sweatpants Cas is wearing. Cas hums and allows Dean to push his pants down, freeing his cock. The breath rushes out of Dean’s lungs as he wraps his hand around Cas. Holy fucking hell is he glad he’s spent weeks fucking himself, because he isn’t sure Cas would fit in him otherwise.
Need floods Dean’s veins tenfold at the sound of Cas moaning brokenly into him. He canted his still clothed hips upwards towards Cas, silently begging for anything. Begging for Cas to make his dreams come true finally after almost two years of waiting and wanting.
Cas breaks the kiss again and ducks his head to watch Dean lift his hips helplessly and slide his hand over Cas’s cock.
“Look at you,” Cas mutters. An embarrassing whine slips out of his mouth, but he’s too drunk on Cas to really care. Cas’s eyes drift back up to Dean’s face with an almost devious smirk tilting his mouth, but it quickly slips.
“Tell me you aren’t dating someone,” Cas demands with dark eyes.
“I’m not dating anyone, I promise,” Dean tells him, soaking in the possessive glint in Cas’s eyes. He tries to tug Cas closer with one hand, his other hand squeezing Cas’s cock to urge him further. A groan slips past Cas’s lips as his hips push into Dean’s fist.
“Cas, fuck me,” Dean whispers, trying to fight off the urge to whimper and beg with his legs spread. Truthfully, he was losing that fight. His knees were inching wider and wider apart on each side of Cas’s hips with every second. His voice was pitched higher than its usual tone, and if Cas asked him to beg for his cock right then and there, Dean would beg himself hoarse.
Cas tilts his head, brows slightly furrowed, and stares down at Dean with a million questions in his eyes.
“You begging for my cock, Dean?” Jesus Christ. Hell fucking yes he was, especially now that Cas’s voice had dipped lower and had a mocking tone to it. Dean’s heart trips over itself in his chest, his mind going blank at the patronizing words. His mouth works to agree, to say anything, but all that he can do is make a quiet sound of desperation.
“Is this why you couldn’t be around me? Because you were so close to spreading your legs for me that you had to stay away from me?” As Cas speaks, his hands fall to Dean’s pants and begin to undo them while his words seep into Dean’s head and make him melt. Dean only lifts his hips and allows Cas to pull his jeans and briefs down his legs, hissing when cool air hits his heated cock. Cas palms his thighs, lifting them around his waist and grinding his cock against Dean’s ass.
Dean’s mouth falls open, then he scrambles to spread his legs and scoot closer to Cas. He had fucked himself open on his new favorite (but still not enough) toy hours ago, and the urge to tell Cas to just slick himself up and sink home is overwhelming. He’d only fingered himself for the first time recently, and the toy was still even newer, but he could probably take it, right? And even if it hurt, the thought of that only made his cock twitch with need. Cas seemed like the type to like making it hurt, and Dean would give anything right now to let him be the one on the receiving end of that hurt.
“Christ, Dean. I know you don’t act like this when you’re fucking other people. I’ve had to hear plenty about your conquests from Jo and Meg,” Cas says, a slight sneer in his voice. His possessiveness darkens his face. “So tell me, who all do you act like a cock-hungry slut for like this?”
Dean isn’t embarrassed by the whine that comes out of him, but he’s sure he will be when he's coherent once more.
“You,” Dean whimpers. The wicked smile on Cas’s mouth goes straight to his dick. “It’s only been you. I’ve never wanted to bottom before, I’d never even had anything inside of me until I couldn’t stop thinking about you doing it. So please fuck me, Cas. I need it so fucking bad, I have for so long.”
Dean’s panting by the time he finishes, his hands clutching Cas’s wrists like a lifeline. He just needs to be filled full of Cas. He’s needed it for years, and now that he’s so close it’s making him delirious.
And with Cas staring down at his naked body like he’s a piece of meat? Yeah, Dean needs his cock within the next few seconds.
Then, Cas’s hand is coming up to push two fingers into Dean’s mouth. Dean hums around the intrusion and lets Cas practically fuck his mouth with the two while he watches with hooded eyelids. When his fingers were wet enough he moved to pull them out, and Dean couldn’t resist the urge to nip at his fingertip playfully. Cas smiled, landed a light slap on the outside of Dean’s thigh, and brushed his slick fingers against Dean’s hole.
Dean arches with a gasp, bearing down on Cas’s fingers to get them inside of him without waiting around for Cas’s teasing.
“What did you think of when you fucked yourself for the first time, Dean?” Cas asks while circling Dean’s hole. Dean groans in frustration, but complies.
“You. Everything about you. How your fingers and your cock would feel in my mouth, then in my ass,” Dean pants. Cas growls above him, then easily pushes both of his fingers into Dean. Again, Dean’s back bows but with a shrill whine this time around. Cas wastes no time burying the duo to the hilt and curls them upwards in search of his prostate.
“God, Cas,” Dean moans, thrusting back on Cas’s hand feverishly. His eyes flutter shut and his head falls back in bliss, the feeling of Cas’s fingers deftly moving in and out of him making his whole body light up. His cock leaks onto his stomach, and somewhere in the back of his head he realizes that he’s never been this turned on, this hard, this wet before. It makes fucking sense that Cas would be the one to do it.
Dean chokes on a wail when Cas’s fingers finally find their mark, massaging against his prostate until Dean’s squirming and crying out the other’s name. Dean trembles under him, stuttering out pleas for Cas to replace his fingers with his cock instead. His body sags on a cry when Cas’s fingers slip out of him, stopping his torment. He doesn’t get much of a break, thank God, before the head of Cas’s cock presses against his rim.
“I don’t have a condom,” Cas grits out, though he still puts pressure against Dean’s entrance. Not enough for him to push in, but enough to make Dean feel tears spring to his eyes with desire.
“I’m clean. Don’t you fucking dare use leave this couch if you are too,” Dean warns. He blinks his watery eyes open so that he can level a weak glare at Cas. Cas beams at him, and the sight makes Dean’s heart melt all over again, before upping the amount of pressure and finally pushes into him.
“Holy—fucking God!” Dean cries at the feeling of Cas’s cock stretching him open. Part of it is due to the lack of prep, but Cas just had to be the most well endowed man on the planet on top of that. He isn’t complaining, though, not when he feels like he’s being split open on Cas’s cock. It hurts, and the pain zaps through every nerve he has which only makes him feel hotter. He knew it would feel good, but Jesus Christ, he felt like he was drunk on pleasure from how good the reality of it feels.
“Fuck, ” Cas spits, his face pinched in arousal. It sends a wave of coiling heat straight to Dean’s gut. Pure satisfaction that he made Cas look equally as consumed with pleasure. “You’re so fucking tight, Dean,” he growls. Dean just nods frantically, gasping through moans while Cas slides deeper inside.
When Cas’s hips press flush against Dean’s ass, Dean can say for certain that Cas was so deep inside of him that every nook and cranny of his body felt full. He could feel the man in his tonsils, for God’s sakes.
“You’re just hung, you motherfucker,” Dean snipes breathlessly. A startled laugh bursts out of Cas’s chest, which makes Dean want to laugh as well, but the movement makes Cas feel deeper.
“Oh, my God! Cut it out, jackass. You’re playing God with my esophagus right now,” Dean says through a smile. Cas snorts and molds himself to Dean’s chest, buries his face into Dean’s neck, and continues his stupid, wonderful laughter there. “You suck,” Dean huffs, circling his arms around Cas’s waist.
Cas waited a moment for Dean to get used to his size, pressing lazy kisses along his neck all the while.
“Hey. You wanna get dinner tomorrow after class?” Cas pulls back with a smile directed at him, the look only softening when he sees Dean’s wide eyes.
“Like—like a date?” Dean asks. Cas nods, dropping a sweet, chaste kiss on Dean’s lips. Dean’s smile is blinding, and he’s completely helpless against fighting it off.
“Yeah, Cas. It’s a date,” he says through his smile. Cas glows at the acceptance, then spends a little more time licking into Dean’s mouth gently, unhurriedly.
“Cas,” Dean mumbles against his lips. “I really need you to fuck me now, Cas. I’ve needed this for years,” he begs. Cas’s eyes go predatory again, then his hands anchor onto Dean’s hips before he starts fucking.
Cas’s hips move in quick, precise thrusts, pulling out until only the head of his cock remains and then thrusting back into Dean’s awaiting body so hard that the sound echoes throughout the room. His cock drags against Dean’s prostate with every thrust, and it doesn’t take long before he’s sinking his teeth into one of his hands to silence himself. It doesn’t stop the tears from leaking out of his eyes, and even though his sobs are muffled, they still aren’t quiet.
Above him, Cas’s mouth spills filthy praises and worships of Dean’s body, how tight he is, how good he feels, how well he’s taking Cas’s cock. Heat flushes Dean’s chest and face when Cas pushes his thighs towards his chest, spreading him wide open so that Cas can watch his cock disappear into Dean’s fluttering hole.
“You look so pretty like this, Dean. Spread open and taking my cock even though it barely fits,” Cas praises. Pitiful whines come from Dean’s muffled mouth, his eyes rolling back inside of his head at the feeling.
His stomach is coiled tight, teetering on the edge of being close to the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. When Cas reaches for his cock, though, Dean slaps his hand away with wild shakes of his head. He releases his hand from between his teeth with a breathless sob to speak.
“So close,” he whimpers. “‘M gonna cum just from your cock.” Cas groans at that, and slams their lips together. Hiking Dean’s knees around his waist, Cas pounds into him at a steady pace of brutal and fast.
Dean’s cries fall into Cas’s open mouth, and the action seems to spur Cas on further. He tries to pull back and warn Cas that he’s so fucking close, that he’s about to explode, but Cas just moans and grips onto him like he knows.
Dean cums with a shout muddled with tears, his vision going white at the sheer force of it. He feels Cas’s hips stuttering inside of him, can hear his frantic moan against his skin, the feeling of his cock twitching inside of him. He can feel the sharp sting of Cas biting his neck while he unloads in Dean’s body. The feeling of everything makes Dean’s head feel fuzzy and faint.
Cas sags on top of him, both of them trying like hell to catch their uneven breaths. Dean keeps his legs wrapped around Cas’s waist, reveling in the closeness that he’s wanted for so long now. A smile rises to his face when Cas sleepily nuzzles into the crook of Dean’s neck, something so intimate and new that it makes butterflies explode in Dean’s stomach.
“Your last class ends at one-thirty tomorrow, right?” Cas asks drowsily.
“Yeah. You wanna wait for me outside the building?”
Cas hums in affirmation, then lifts the two of them up off of the couch. Dean clings to him with a small shriek of indignation, but lets Cas carry him like he’s a child instead of a fully fucking grown man.
“Quiet,” Cas tells him with a laugh, hoisting him up higher. “Shower and then bed, sound good?”
Dean considers whining a little more about being picked up like this, but finds himself snuggling further into Cas’s body instead. He nods against him, and lets Cas baby him for the rest of the night until they fall into Dean’s bed together.