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Dean’s always getting himself into these situations. It made for an interesting story and usually a fond, happy memory, but damn it, he’s getting too old for this. He should take his dad’s advice and find a normal, nice girl to marry and have 2.5 kids with her. He should follow his little brother’s lead and have a tasteful ceremony at some old farmhouse-turned-wedding-venue and get a golden retriever. He should stop feeding the feral cats that live in the woods behind his building. He should eat less junk food, work out more, he should DIY some home decor that isn’t sanding hand-me-down junk, he should kiss ass at work to get a promotion, he should buy a more eco-friendly car, he should wear less thrift store flannel, he should plant tomatoes, he needs to get a hobby that isn’t online video games, he should—
Dean throws his phone across the living room. It clunks down on carpet and slides over hardwood before coming to rest just under his coat rack.
It seems like everyone online is living these fantasy lives. It can’t be real. His Facebook reels are stuffed to the brim with people showing off their amazing skills of some kind or another, improving their lives, one perfectly edited video at a time.
Dean’s always wanted things he can’t have. When he was a kid, it was a house with a real yard and a basketball hoop out front instead of the trailer park where his dad did maintenance to supplement their scarce rent payments. As a teen, he stole glances at the boys in his school and wanted to be able to articulate why he felt so different from them. He dreamed of going to a college in another state, maybe on the east coast, but didn’t get farther than community college. His long-held desire to restore classic vehicles was surviving on the occasional beauty that rolled through Singer’s Auto.
Having a family—well, that one doesn’t look nearly as acceptable for him to pretend that his high school sweetheart and her ten year old was a good alternative. He wants one, sure, but his fantasies are something he’s never dared to speak out loud. For one thing, it was impossible. Inappropriate, even. For another, his dad would surely have a heart attack if he knew who Dean lusted after and his brother would probably be super butt-hurt that Dean never came out to him. And, really, Castiel probably didn’t want the same things.
It’s stupid, and like Dean’s propensity to wish for the impossible, a twenty-one year-old student at KU has become the one thing Dean’s wanted more than anything else in his life.
There’s a whole bunch of reasons why it wouldn’t work. He’s thirteen years younger than Dean, for one. He’s a double major in civil engineering and environmental science so he’s going places, and it’s not anywhere close to Dean’s two bedroom apartment in Lawrence, Kansas.
So Dean managed to do what he always does—settle for a cheap alternative. This one, actually, isn’t cheap, and it’s not so much an alternative as it is just a small taste of what he really wants. It’s deeply satisfying and better than anything Dean thought he’d get, but it doesn’t stop him from picturing the farmhouse wedding and the picket-fence house and wanting more and more until he’s practically breaking his own heart every Friday night when it becomes painfully obvious that he’s letting his imagination run off.
From its banished position under the coat rack, his phone dings and Dean figures that’s Cas telling him he’s outside. Standing, Dean shuffles across the room and scoops it up, heading for the front door. The door buzzes the moment he steps into the foyer so he holds the button to unlock it and let Cas inside.
“Hello, Dean.” The younger man—boy, practically—steps inside and ducks out of his messenger bag to hang it on the coat rack. “I have a study group at eleven, so we have probably three hours at most. Is that alright?”
Dean feels a mother-hen urge. “Hey, if you have a big test you should put that first, okay? I don’t want to be the reason your grades start tanking.”
Cas is stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders—he holds a lot of stress there, Dean knows. “Dean, by now you have to know the effect you have on my grades is nothing but positive.” He levels his eyes and Dean’s mesmerized into believing whatever Cas has to say by the way his blue eyes pierce through his thick rimmed glasses. “I need this,” he says quietly.
Cas is already slipping into his role. He must be telling the truth, and Dean’s nothing but a willing servant, eager to fulfill Castiel’s every need.
Dean rushes forward and pulls Cas into a hug, running his hands up and down his back and arms, touching as much of him as he’s able. Cas sighs and leans into him, humoring him, really—Cas used to ask why Dean touched him so much, and the only thing Dean could think to say was that he’s a tactile person. And sure, that’s close to the truth, simply. But it’s magnified with Cas, and Dean’s understood since he first laid eyes on him that he wanted to familiarize himself with this body in every way he could. It fulfills a need for Dean, too, and this is supposed to be a mutually beneficial agreement.
The agreement started as a dating app hook-up during which Dean noticed that Cas was a tightly wound coil and quick, anonymous sex was hardly a substitute for the type of stress relief Dean could give him. Cas, being the high-strung and organized person he was, requested that they meet every Friday night for that stress relief Dean was so eager to give.
It’d been eight weeks of the best sex Dean’s ever had, with the funniest and most perfect sub he’s ever had the pleasure of serving. It’s also the first time Dean fell head over heels in love with anyone, let alone a submissive.
It just worked. And Cas—Cas was perfect. Cas was too perfect. He was a busy, overworked college student who got slapped around once a week and it knocked his head straight enough until the next weekend. Cas was really good at turning it on and off, and normally Dean could uphold the typical boundaries of such a relationship, but it’s something he’s completely failed at for the last eight weeks.
Here he was, turning it on. Within moments of Dean’s groping hug, Cas is slumping into his shoulder and whispering his name for his dom before they’ve even made it into the bedroom. “Daddy,” he breathes when Dean spreads his fingers over his ass and grips two handfuls of flesh.
It’s not Dean’s go-to name, (and he was almost offended by it, seeing as he’s only 34), but part of being a good dom is knowing what your sub needs. Needs come from issues or preference, lack of something or too much—and in this instance, Cas has a clear lack of a father figure and Dean’s almost embarrassed by how much it turns him on to hear it. Dean doesn’t know much—Cas is private about his personal life—but he got enough through careful probing that Cas has more daddy issues than he does, which is saying something.
“Got something special for you, baby,” Dean murmurs into his hair. “I think you’ll like it.”
Cas pulls his head back to stare up at Dean, eyes hooded and a grin forming. “A present?” he asks, pressing in closer.
“Yeah,” Dean responds. “But not here. Go get yourself ready for me.”
Cas didn’t need to be told twice; he scampers away as Dean swats his butt and watches him head for his bedroom.
Dean walks slower, pulling himself together as much as he supposes is possible. He’s always ready and willing to be exactly what Cas needs, it’s his heart that he needs to reign in before they start. When he’s at the doorway to his room, his heart clenches and Dean’s working overtime to remind himself no, no, this is just part of our deal. Cas is kneeling on the floor, naked, a strip of fabric in one hand. Dean’s not so strict with submissive posing and presentation and that crap—but he does like to see Cas on his knees for him.
From where he waits patiently, Cas looks over at Dean. “Is this my present, Daddy?”
Dean starts to tug at his flannel as he steps into the room. “Not quite, baby.” He drops the overshirt on the floor and steps behind Cas, taking the blindfold from his hand and wrapping it gently around his eyes. “It’s just to build suspense.”
Cas squirms as his vision is covered. Dean’s fingers drag down his neck and linger at the broad expanse of Cas’ shoulders. Peaking down at his lap, Dean sees that the suspense is definitely building. Cas’ cock is flushed and pointing almost straight up—it twitches while Dean checks the blindfold and lets his hands brush an ear and a shoulder, and oh—his hair—Dean forgets he’s supposed to be doing something and just presses his hand against Cas’ head to drag it through his wavy hair. Cas keeps his hair longer than Dean, just past his ears and never uses anything more than his grocery-store shampoo. It’s unruly, uncombed, and long enough for Dean to grab and hold on firmly.
Now, though, Dean just runs his hand over him, pulling here and there, listening to Cas’ heavy breathing. Experimenting, Dean grips tightly and yanks back, forcing Cas’ head back and eliciting a barely discernible whimper.
“Tsk,” Dean clicks. “What have I said about that?” He pulls again, giving Cas the chance to fix his mistake.
“Eeennh,” Cas squeaks. Dean smiles and loosens his grip.
“That’s it, baby. I wanna hear you. I gotta know how much you like something.” Dean’s barely containing a gentle croon, holding back from murmuring how much he loves to make Cas moan. He crouches down so he can whisper in Cas’ ear—goddamnit, this boy—Dean’s supposed to be changing but he’s already distracted by the perfect little submissive at his feet. “When you make those noises it tells Daddy that you want some more. Don’t you want more, baby?”
“Hnngh, mhm-hm,” Cas responds.
“If you’re being quiet Daddy might think you want to stop. But you don’t want to stop, do you?”
This time, Cas shakes his head urgently.
“Alright then, make sure you let me know how much you like it. Daddy will take care of you, baby.”
In an act of appreciation, or maybe anticipation, Cas moans and wiggles in place, making his cock bob and sway.
“That’s good, sweetheart. Now, will you let me get that present ready? I’ll have to get up.”
“Uh—” Cas goes rigid in his arms.
“Okay, baby, I won’t go yet.” Dean keeps his hands on his sub as he shuffles around him to sit on the edge of his bed, pulling Cas between his legs. Like the touch-starved little thing he is, Cas nuzzles his face into Dean’s crotch and chases the warmth from his hot erection.
From his vantage point, Dean lets his gaze roll down the sub’s shoulders and his back, which he doesn’t allow himself to be caught staring at closely. Cas has two perfect angel wings across his shoulders, stretching down to his waist. They’re perfect and carefully crafted, but they distract from the scars. That could be why Cas has them, why he chose to cover nearly his whole back in ink. The scars vary in size and shape, some barely noticeable under the designs.
Dean has never asked, and Cas has never offered an explanation.
As if he’s trying to push his own limits with Cas’ patience for him, Dean puts a hand in his sub’s hair and his thumb instantly finds the long, hairless line on his head that Dean’s also always wondered about, but never dared to ask.
“Wanna see your present?” he asks before Cas can pick up that Dean’s touching that spot on his scalp on purpose. He pulls Cas’ head away from his dick so he can see Cas’ face, and to his delight he gets Cas licking his lips and nodding.
“Lemme stand up.” Dean pushes him down gently, letting him sit back on his heels firmly on the floor before quickly grabbing his belt and taking it off at record speed. His shirt comes next, thrown across the room, and then he unbuttons his pants and lets them fall. He does these loudly, so Cas can hear how close he is, so he knows Dean didn’t go far. He’s pulling off his socks and tossing everything behind Cas when he reaches out to touch him again. “Ready?” He’s crouched down, murmuring in Cas’ ear, hands reaching for the back of the blindfold.
Cas blinks against the light for a second before his eyes focus on Dean. Then his eyes go wide, unblinking as he stares at Dean’s crotch. “O-oh,” he stammers. He licks his lips again, and raises his hands hesitantly. “Can I touch?” he asks.
Dean takes hold of his wrists. “Hm?”
“So pretty. Can I touch you?”
“What was that? Can I touch you…?”
“Please?” Cas finally says, voice breaking. “Please may I touch?”
“Yes,” Dean says, almost sighing at how Cas’ hands shoot up to his hips and his face leans in to nuzzle again. This time, he’s pressing his face against a lace-and-silk combination, a delicate pair of panties just barely holding all of Dean inside.
Cas is breathing heavily while his hands slip around Dean’s hips. He grabs two handfuls of asscheeks and sways his body in a lame attempt to buck his hips. He mouths at the silk that hides almost nothing, and Dean gently arranges them so he’s sitting on the bed and Cas is kneeling in front of him, head still stuck to Dean’s panties. His hands lay limply on either side of Dean’s hips.
He touches Cas’ head again, and hears a quiet groan when he runs his finger through Cas’ unruly hair. Cas opens his mouth again, Dean feels the heat of his mouth, almost trying to suck him through the panties. When Cas lays a particularly wet lick over Dean’s front, he pulls on that hair a bit and brings his free hand into that small space between his legs. “Hold on, there, sweetheart,” he says gently.
Because Cas is perfect, he knows what Dean’s trying to say. His mouth opens once more and he sucks Dean’s thumb inside. Dean struggles to hold in his “holy shit!” because he’s supposed to be the one in control here. Cas sucks on his thumb and Dean’s cock pulses with the desire to be in the place of his finger. He watches Cas suckle him for a moment more, before he’s pulling his hand away and tucking the waistband of his panties under his balls. Cas’ mouth is watering, actually drooling when Dean guides his head where it needs to go. The head of Dean’s cock rests just inside Cas’ mouth until he realizes that he’s got to start working it. His eyes are already hazy and Dean’s got to control the way his head can bob up and down. Spit runs down Dean’s length and gathers under Cas’ chin. Dean lets out a shaky breath as he feels Cas’ mouth tighten a seal over his cock and suck. God, he’s so beautiful like this. So perfectly obedient and willing to let Dean into his mouth and control his pace. Dean lets Cas suck him for a few minutes, occasionally taking his head up pulling it closer, so he can go deeper (just a little, and then he’s pulled back for Cas to dutifully suck on the head).
Once he’s certain he can’t do that much longer (lest he finish before they’ve even started), he pulls Cas to stand up and lets the blood circulate for a moment before directing him to sit at the top of the bed.
Dean grabs the soft braided rope he’d left on his bedside table, and moves to expertly tie them around Cas’ wrists.
He’d decided to bind his hands together, and fix them to the wall with a well-secured hook used for this purpose. He props a pillow behind Cas’ back, and then takes his face in his hands. “Checkin’ in, sweetheart,” he says softly.
“Good,” Cas mumbles back.
“Nothing pulling too tight?” Dean runs a hand up to the rope around Cas’ wrists.
“No, Daddy,” Cas says, about as clear as he can.
Dean lingers right there, cradling his face, his other hand just slowly falling down Cas’ muscular arm. He looks directly into Cas’ eyes, which stare back at him expectantly, and when that’s too much he settles for the swollen lips that are slightly parted.
“Now,” Dean says, his voice hoarse from excitement. “Do you wanna fuck me?”
“Yes, please,” Cas answers. “Yes, yes,” he babbles.
“Okay, then,” Dean leans back a little, giving a little space between them. “Do you want me to keep the panties on? Or take them off?”
“On,” Cas says without hesitating. “Please,” he adds.
“It might chafe,” Dean thinks out loud.
“On,” Cas says again. “I don’t care.”
Dean can’t control his grin. “Whatever you say, baby.” Then he’s reaching back to graze a hand over his ass, to the large silicone bulge that sits at his hole.
If this was a different night, and Cas wasn’t tied up, Dean wouldn’t have prepped himself beforehand. He’d either do it in front of Cas while he watched and smack him every time he moved, or he’d squat over him and make Cas eat him out to loosen him up.
But neither of those things are happening tonight, and Dean wanted to save them some time because he’s sure that what he has planned is going to take almost all of the two-and-a-half hours that they have. He smiles to himself, then grabs the end of the plug and pulls it out slowly.
When Cas can finally see what’s in Dean’s hand, he moans and squirms. He can’t move far, but his cock leaks a little bit against his abdomen. Dean deposits the plug on one of the washcloths he’d laid out for this purpose, and grabs the bottle of lube right next to it. (The last item he has for tonight, is on the floor, carefully placed so Cas didn’t see it when he got here).
Dean drizzles lube directly onto Cas’ dick, not warming it with his own hands first. Cas hisses and jumps but one quick look from Dean and he’s grounded again. He wipes his hand on a washcloth and knee-walks towards Cas.
With Dean’s open hole growing closer, Cas straightens up and his breath comes in hard. Dean wants to grab his face and kiss him, because it’s perfect the way he’s just opening his mouth and tilting up to look at Dean as he gets right up against him. Dean’s own lips twitch as the sudden urge to use them on Cas’ comes and doesn’t subside. Instead, he bows his head over Cas’ and holds Cas’ head against his chest. Cas immediately licks at Dean’s nipple and sucks it into his mouth. Dean breathes with an open mouth into Cas’ hair. He inches closer, now reaching to find Cas’ cock and hold it steady. Cas, who hasn’t had his cock touched once yet today, makes a sobbing noise and bucks up into Dean’s hand.
Dean yanks backwards and slaps Cas’ face in warning.
It takes him a moment to re-center himself, but Dean sees Cas nod after a quick pause and turn his face back to Dean’s. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” he says woefully. His eyes are dark circles lined with blue and his hair is wildly sticking out in every way. “I’m sorry.”
Dean is satisfied with that, and comes in closer. He pulls the thong of his panties to the side and doesn’t waste time in pushing Cas’ cock into position, he hovers over him until he feels that blunt pressure right where it needs to be. He’s open and ready, but he’s not lowering himself down just yet.
Cas is a mess, muttering things and pressing his face into Dean’s chest. Dean’s just barely got the tip at his entrance and Cas, who’s been struggling this far, starts panting and begging.
“Oh, fuck, Daddy, fuck, fuck! Oh, please fucking, oh my god, please, please put it in, oh my god, please, please, oh fuck, De—Daddy, please!” He gulps for air and keeps stringing along his pleads, and he continues until Dean reaches beneath him to hold him steady once again. He only lowers himself the tiniest bit, enough for the head to stretch him open but not enough for Cas to pop inside his sphincter entirely, when he feels Cas’ cock jerk and Cas’ cries grow louder.
“No!” Dean’s getting ready to pull back when he realizes it’s too late, Cas’ head bangs against the headboard and Dean feels his warm seed spilling barely into his hole, mostly falling in pulses around his hand.
Dean waits until the pulsing slows and Cas stops moaning. He pushes off and sits on his heels away from Cas. Once his body stops shaking, Cas looks at him, horrified.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, shit, I didn’t—” Dean shakes his head and silences him with a disapproving look.
Dean reaches over Cas’ head and releases his wrists, leaving Cas to hold himself while Dean stands and walks around the bed. Tucked almost underneath them, Dean grabs the spanking paddle and brandishes it.
Cas groans when he understands what’s going to happen. Dean’s got to suppress his smile, because he would’ve been surprised if Cas didn’t blow his load before he was all the way in. But, Cas is young and Dean is patient, and he’s nearly too giddy to use his paddle again. He positions himself to sit on the edge of the bed and pats his lap. Cas comes hesitantly, but he does, with a sticky mess in his pubic hair and thighs. Dean is ignoring it, letting Cas sit in his own mess for the rest of the night is probably more of a punishment than a spanking.
Cas lays himself over Dean’s lap, ass up in the air and head hidden under his arms. Dean runs a hand over Cas’ back, feeling the bumps of all his scars and tracing the angel wing pattern.
“I’m only giving you five,” Dean starts, letting his hand run over his ass. “But if this happens again I won’t be so nice.”
He hears Cas give an affirmative, something like, “yes, Daddy,” but muffled into the bed.
Dean waits a moment, feeling every inch of Cas’ backside without dipping his fingers into his crack.
Maybe one day, but in their negotiations Cas firmly stated he’s not going to have his hole touched. Dean’s not desperate for it, but he’d love to top Cas someday. Tonight, though, Dean’s not vile enough to push Cas’ boundaries when he’s whimpering and waiting for punishment.
(And here, again—Dean’s got that pull. What if one day, Cas trusts him enough? What if he can fuck him and then hold him afterwards, so they can fall asleep together? What if Cas tells him where all those scars came from? What if Cas was his?)
Dean raises his paddle. Two quick hits in succession, a moment for Cas to adjust, and then three more, equally spaced apart. Dean drops the paddle and pulls Cas further up on the bed, not letting him go until he can see Cas’ face, eyes still glazed over. He squashes the urge to kiss him again. Instead, Dean cradles him in his lap until he can feel Cas’ body relax again.
Holding Cas in one arm, his other hand wanders over Cas’ body slowly, until he reaches Cas’ cock, covered in dried semen. “You’re a mess, aren’t you?” he says, not expecting a reply.
“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry again.”
“Shh,” Dean hushes him immediately. “It’s over now. We just have to clean up and get you ready again to fuck me.”
He watches Cas’ reaction carefully, and he isn’t disappointed. His eyes brighten and his breath catches, and when Dean brings his hand up to touch his face again, Cas is turning his head and pulling Dean’s thumb into his mouth again.
Dean looks at him in awe. He watches Cas suck on his thumb, like a thank-you or an apology, and feels the burning in his gut again.
“Just need you to do something for me baby,” he murmurs. “So I stay ready for you.”
Cas understands, immediately wiggling out of Dean’s lap and licking his lips.
He looks ready to dig in, but Dean has to keep himself together and arrange them just the way he wants them. He lays Cas down on a pillow, and then quickly removes the panties and positions himself over Cas’ face. He’s leaning over Cas’ body, eyeing the soft, messy cock laying against his thigh. He lowers himself down and lets himself enjoy the way Cas licks him a few times before stabbing him with his tongue. Dean nearly cries out, but instead brings two fingers to his mouth and wets them generously. With it, he swipes at a glob of drying spunk right above the bunch of wiry hair. Cas almost doesn’t respond to the touch, and Dean brings his fingers back to his mouth to taste it. He doesn’t linger, but sucks it off and goes for another bit on Cas’ thigh. Cas is tonguing his ass for all he’s worth, and Dean doesn’t want it to end but he also wants to lick up all that cum.
He stops Cas long enough to prop a pillow under his ass, and then he can reach well enough without having to pull his hole away from Cas’ perfect tongue. He licks at his lower abdomen, one of his bony hips, at the dense collection of hair next to his balls. Finally, when he cleaned up every bit around his cock, Dean gave Cas’ cock one experimental lick. He hears Cas whine against his ass but he doesn’t put up much fuss. So he does it again. And again, and then he sucks the soft head into his mouth while Cas makes muffled mewling sounds with his tongue still licking at Dean’s inner walls. Dean drops the head and licks a long stripe down his length, feeling the skin pull tighter ever so slightly as Cas starts to firm up a little. Cas keeps working at Dean’s hole while Dean cleans his dick, and before long Cas has pulled away slightly while his cock hardens in Dean’s mouth.
He mouths aimlessly while flicking his hips ever so slightly, which Dean pretends he doesn’t notice. Dean sucks him gently, shallow little thrusts allowing Cas to get hard again.
When he’s satisfied with how stiff the erection gets, he pops off and replaces his mouth with a hand as he swivels around, grabbing the lube as he goes. Two lube-coated fingers go in his ass to make sure there’s a smooth entry, and then he’s coating Cas’ cock and pumping it with a firm hand until Cas is straining to lie still.
This time, Dean doesn’t draw it out. He makes sure Cas is hard enough and then he’s sinking down, until his ass is meeting Cas’ hips. His hands find Cas’, and laces their fingers together on either side of Cas’ head and then he rolls his hips. Though his thighs protest heavily (tired out from hovering over Cas’ cock earlier, and then his face), Dean lifts up and sinks down again, feeling Cas harden even more. Then, he starts riding.
Cas turns his head to the side and groans, chest heaving and flushed. He flips his head to the other side and Dean decides to find the right angle, leaning back the tiniest bit and letting go of Cas’ hands. When he finds it, he groans deeply and touches himself, and the sound of Cas moaning snaps his attention forward. Dean has one his nipples pinched between two fingers, and Cas is watching him with his mouth open. Dean can hardly control his smirk as he grabs his other nipple and pulls on them both. He and Cas both respond, Dean with a spark of heat shooting through him, and Cas with another moan.
“De—Daddy,” Cas grunts. “Can’t—please,” he tries. Cas’ hands are stuck on Dean’s thighs, his fingernails digging hard into Dean’s flesh. “Come on me, please,” he begs. “Please come soon.”
Dean kinda wishes he had that kind of stamina, to be so close again after busting once. He positions himself just right without breaking his rhythm, and drops his hand to his own cock while Cas’ bumps his prostate with every roll of his hips.
“Please, please, please, Daddy, I can’t hold it—please, I don’t wanna—” Dean starts jerking his own cock and revels in the sound of Cas begging. Next to him moaning, it’s probably the best goddamn sound Dean’s ever heard.
“Oh my god, please, please, please,” Cas is tightened up under him, and Dean’s so close, he just needs—
“Oh my fuck!” Cas is crying now, tears streaming out of his eyes and down to his ears. “Please!” —and then Dean is coming, in long thick stripes over Cas. Each line lands on his belly, his chest, one perfect splash lands on a nipple. He keeps riding, feeling Cas throb deep inside of him, wringing what little spend is left out of his cock. When he pulls up and lets Cas slide out, he looks down at what a complete mess Cas is. Covered in Dean’s cum, exhausted from coming twice in a short span of time, and looking blissfully sated. Dean lays sideways beside him, grabbing one of the cloths on his table and wiping the semen off Cas’ stomach and chest. Once clean (mostly), Cas turns on his side and buries his face into Dean’s armpit. Dean lets him rest for a few minutes, laying a hand on his ribcage and gently scratching with barely-there fingernails. He peeks down at his ass, making sure it’s not too red or bruised—and it wouldn’t be, with only five little hits—but Dean is going to check anyway. He runs his hand up to Cas’ shoulder, over his bicep and down until he finds where Cas has laid his hand, and picks it up to inspect the marks in his wrist. Already fading, but he’ll be sure to massage them with an aloe lotion. After he’s done quickly cataloging Cas’ body, he allows himself a moment to enjoy feeling Cas pressed up to him, soaks up all the physical touch he can’t have outside of Friday nights.
The clock in his room tells him he’s got to get Cas back to reality and cleaned up. He shakes him, realizing Cas has fallen asleep. “Come on, baby, time to get up.”
This time, Cas groans in clear protest to what’s happening. “Nooooo,” he sounds, rolling to his back and letting Dean pull him up.
“Yes,” Dean says, without meaning it. “Since you have to go I’m just gonna shower you, okay? No time for a full bath. And I don’t want you falling asleep again, either.”
It took some pulling and convincing, but Dean got Cas standing up and walking to his bathroom. He gets the shower going and tests it before bringing Cas in.
He cleans what he can, but Cas is leaning into him and refusing to hold up all his own weight. Dean makes some comment sounding like “brat,” under his breath and Cas stares up into his eyes innocently.
God, Dean wants to kiss him. Just take his lips and kiss his bratty face off. Instead he bites his lip and rubs his soap-soaked hand over the dried spit and spunk all over Cas’ bush. Cas flinches at the gentle touch Dean uses to clean his dick, and spreads his legs so Dean can bring another handful of soap to his perineum and up his crack. Again, Dean wonders if there’s ever a scenario where Cas lets him play with his ass, but he brushes right past it and uses a washcloth to clean around Cas’ mouth.
Then he wants to kiss him again. “Can I wash your hair?” he asks instead.
Cas smiles. “We’ve got some time.” Which Dean is thankful for, because he can start preparing to pull himself away. He stares at the tile of the shower wall, away from the perfect man in his arms while he lathers Cas up with one hand, the other still wrapped around his waist. He carefully guides Cas’ head under the water and shields his eyes while working the water into his scalp and letting all the shampoo rinse out. Dean’s not going to even ask to condition it, Cas will probably make some biting sarcastic remark about using conditioner. He fixes his gaze just beyond Cas.
With the last few minutes in the shower, Dean awkwardly cleans his leaking ass, knowing he’s probably going to take a more thorough shower once Cas leaves.
When they step out, Dean knows Cas is humoring him by allowing him to dry his body and rub lotion into his skin.
Cas buttons up his jeans like he’s getting dressed for a normal day. He’s slipped out of it already. Dean’s watching closely, looking for a hint of hesitancy in Cas’ movements. When he doesn’t see it, he asks casually, “what are you studying for tonight?”
Cas looks over his shoulder before pulling his arms and head through his shirt. “It’s a test on process dynamics in environmental systems. Then I’ve got to work on my project management report. I hate that class. It’s such a pain.”
Dean is lounging on his bed in a towel, trying desperately to not look desperate. “Are you getting enough sleep?”
Cas sighs, sounding annoyed. “Probably not. And this study group—it’s so inconvenient. I don’t think it’s worth it to stay up so late to cram but I promised Mick and the others. They’re not ‘doing so hot’ in that class.”
Dean’s both enamored by Cas’ ridiculous use of air quotes and entirely disturbed by the mention of Cas’ friends. “Maybe you should blow them off. Work on your project and go to bed.”
Cas is kneeling to lace up his shoes, and he gives Dean a small shrug. “I don’t mind. Plus, I barely see my friends anymore. This year has really ramped up the workload.”
“Mhm, I’m sure. I guess it’s good to make time for them.” Dean can’t really hide the resentment in his voice. He knows Cas and Mick have had sex in the past—not anymore, as their contract states they aren’t to see other people. He wonders, though. Can’t help but think that sometimes during those late-night study sessions or those high-stress exam weeks that Cas and Mick help each other out in ways he knows Cas likes to de-stress. It’s not like Dean would ever know, if Cas never told him. It’s actually understandable that a 21-year-old would need more than just one night a week for release, and Dean’s been cruel enough to tell him not to masturbate during the week.
“Dean,” Cas stands before him with his other shoe in hand, squinting at him. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head and tries to look unbothered.
To his surprise, Cas smiles. “I knew it,” he says triumphantly. “You’re jealous.”
Dean scowls. “No I’m not,” he protests, too quickly. Cas only grins wider, his lips receding enough to where he’s showing his top gums, something that Dean rarely sees. “Shut up.”
“It’s cute,” Cas says when Dean angles away from him. If that’s not embarrassing enough, Cas drops his shoe and climbs into Dean’s lap. Hands joined behind Dean’s neck, he settles on Dean’s thighs and scans his face. “You think he’s competition or something.”
Dean shrugs. “It’s not like—well, it’s jus’ the way it is.”
Cas knits his brows together. “What?”
“It’d be…more appropriate. You and me, we’re just—helping each other out. And he’s—anyone at your school, really. It’s not so much a competition as it is—I know what I am,” he corrects himself.
Cas comes off his lap and takes a step back, his head tilted quizzically. “And what are you, Dean?”
Dean pulls a smile. I’m in love with you. “I’m the guy whose greatest hits include a GED and first prize of Lebanon’s pie-eating festival.” He looks away from Cas, because those dark blue eyes have a way of getting to him. “I’m not a young engineering student ready to take on the world. I’m just—I’m me. I like—like being what you need. I like doing this with you. But I’m not—” he faces Cas again, because he has to show him that he’s fine and he can’t ruin this one thing. “I like taking care of you,” Dean says softly. “And I know you won’t always need me to.”
It’s hard to gauge Castiel’s reactions sometimes, because he takes everything so seriously and Dean can practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. “Interesting,” Cas says. He slips his other shoe on, leaving it untied. He waits a moment, brows pinched and eyes serious, before he speaks again. “I’m always surprised to remember how low an opinion you have of yourself.”
Dean shrugs. “I’m a realist.” That doesn’t seem to make Cas happy. “But you, buddy, you’re going places. In a year and a half, you’ll graduate and start jet-setting. You’re smart, and curious. You’ll get whatever you want because you’ll work hard for it. I’m excited for you, you deserve it, Cas.”
Cas takes an apprehensive step backwards. “And you?”
Dean flashes his best grin. “I’ll be here, same as always. I’m not quite on the same path.”
Castiel murmurs something that Dean can’t hear, and then reaches into his pocket and checks his phone. “I should probably get going, soon,” he says. Dean nods, understanding that he’s trying to end this awkward conversation. “But I think you’re a little off on your analysis, Dean.”
“What do you mean?”
The smile Cas gives him is sweet, and so fond. “Your assumptions about me, how I could get anything, or anyone, gives me much more credit than I can possibly accept.”
Dean shakes his head in disbelief. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
That makes Cas laugh. “Dean, I don’t think you understand—I’m not exactly popular. The opposite, really. My study group tonight, well—Charlie’s my friend, but the others—they only invite me because I’m good at school and keep good notes. They don’t really like me that much.”
“That’s crazy!” Dean exclaims. “Of course they do. You’re—you.”
Cas opens his mouth and then closes it, contemplating. He laughs quietly. “I’m a double major with OCD whose extracurricular activities include sucking a man’s thumb and calling him daddy. I’m a gay engineering student. Besides Charlie, I don’t have friends.”
“What? Who wouldn’t want to be your friend? You’re so funny. And you’re cute, and—” Jesus Christ, Dean needs to shut up. “I think you’re wrong. You’ve got friends, and they’d be crazy not to like you.”
Cas stands very still, blinking and twisting his mouth. He turns his head to look at Dean’s bedroom, door, then to his feet, and then back at Dean. “May I ask you something, Dean?”
“Sure,” he answers lightly.
Cas doesn’t ask right away, and the anticipation has Dean shifting uncomfortably. “Is this how it normally is? With your other submissives? Do you—am I like the same as them, or is it different?”
It hits Dean like a ton of bricks, and he’s not sure what to say. “Everyone’s different,” he tries weakly.
Cas takes a small step backwards. “I’ve never had a Dom before, so I don’t know if this is typical. I was just wondering. Because it—it feels like a lot.”
“Yeah, that’s normal. It’s a lot. And the cuddling and stuff is normal, too. I gotta make sure your emotions aren’t too high after we play, it’s part of what I do for Subs. If it’s too much for you, I understand—”
“No, it’s not—” Cas starts. “It’s good. I like it a lot. But I have this feeling that it’s…a lot, for you.”
Dean’s heart is hammering in his chest and he feels like he might explode. What is Cas getting at? Is he trying to imply that he knows Dean is down bad, and he’s trying to remind him that this is just sex?
“You should go meet your friends. Study for that test, okay?”
Cas’ facial expression doesn’t change as he nods and turns to leave the room. Dean grabs a pair of sweats and follows him to his front door, where Cas slinging his bag over his shoulder. They stand close together, face-to face, and Cas lays a hand on Dean’s bare chest. “Same time next week?” he asks. But his voice is wrong. He sounds like he’s trying to hold himself back.
“I’ll be here,” Dean answers.
Cas hesitates, and then pulls away to open the door and walk out.
Dean’s not sure what just happened. He’s not sure if Cas is accusing him of having feelings for him (feelings that Dean most definitely has), or if Cas is just being weird and vague because Cas is a little weird and sometimes vague.
Dean picks up his phone again, and stretches over his couch.
He should put a stop to this. These last eight weeks, of pure bliss and the unfettered access to the boy he can’t get out of his mind? They were too much. He’s older and more experienced than Cas, and it’s unfair of him to keep this going because all he wants is Cas, in any way he can have him. The pit in Dean’s stomach is threatening to open up and swallow his lungs. Dean feels like it’s hard to breathe, like he’s got someone sitting on his chest.
Shit, is he crying? What the fuck is wrong with him? He rubs his palms over his face and gets up to take another shower.
Inside the shower, he feels dizzy. He knows that it’s silly, but he’s always felt that it doesn’t count as crying if it happens in the shower. He turns his head up and lets the water collide with his face, barely breathing in the humid air and water droplets.
When he can no longer tell the difference between the steaming water and hot tears, he turns off the water.
He dries off and puts his sweats back on. It’s not very late, but Dean pulls off his sheets and drops them in the corner to deal with tomorrow, and then makes up the bed and crawls in.
He picks up his phone. He’s always doing this, and maybe he should stop. He swipes through endless videos of picture-perfect people and allows the numbness to reach him.
It never comes.
Maybe he should find some girl and settle down.
Because it’s getting harder and harder to watch Cas leave.
It’ll be a fond memory one day, but today it hurts like hell knowing it’s not going to last beyond finals week.