Actions

Work Header

Teenagers Scare the Living Shit Out of Me

Chapter Text

Maybe Cas wouldn't come.

He'd realize that he made a mistake, that he didn't actually want Dean, didn't actually want to sneak into his room in the middle of the night and fuck him senseless.

Except that he'd said he did, and Dean knew enough about him to know he didn't make threats lightly.

Even when just the thought of those threats made Dean inexplicably hard and he'd spent...God...countless nights lying in bed and stroking himself to the sound of Cas's deep register at the other end of the line. One hand white-knuckling the phone as the other hand gripped his cock, each growl of Cas's voice sending a vibration straight to his dick. Dean coming undone with every word out of Cas's mouth, whimpering into the phone as Cas teased him by painting images of his pierced tongue licking the sweat off his skin or of those blue eyes staring down at him as he tongued the piercing Cas claimed to have on his own dick.

Dean believed it.

And when Cas told him to come, Dean came. Without hesitation. Every time.

Dean would jerk himself hard and fast, Cas's rough and salacious voice coaxing him the whole time, and Dean would come gasping for Cas, gasping his name, grunting with every wave of release and coating his groin and thighs in hot, sticky spend.

And every time, Cas would chuckle, the arrogant asshole, followed by: "See you tomorrow, pretty boy", and the line would go dead. Dean would finally relax then, melting into his sheets, breathless, chest heaving, his come cooling against his skin as the shame of letting Cas take control of him in such a vulgar way began to sink in.

But of course, it didn't stop him from doing it again the next day, and the day after that, and so on.

It had become a nightly routine, and Dean hadn't been able to build up any sort of resistance to the black-haired, blue-eyed boy. The boy who wore smudged black eyeliner, whose hair stood spiked insanely all over his head. The boy who has more tattoos than your average biker, a plethora of shiny metal through various areas of skin, a serious nicotine addiction, and a few stints in juvie under his belt. The boy who causes parents to clutch their children to them a little tighter when they pass him on the street, who causes the elderly to feel the need to "pray for him", who blares Green Day way too loud and says "fuck" a little too often.

Like everyone, Dean is unsettled by him, intimidated by him, maybe a little afraid of him. And every minute occupied by Cas is the biggest thrill of his life.

Dean shucks his jersey and pads barefoot over to his bed, straightening his comforter. It's Cas's first visit. He wants to be good for him. He wants to impress him.

His dad is out of town for the weekend on business, and Sammy is off at a friend's for the night. His mother passed when he was only a few years old...died a house fire that Dean barely remembers, not even a year after Sammy was born. Dean vividly remembers the aftermath of her death, though; how his dad dropped them off at Bobby's and they practically lived there for two years while John either worked or drank. It was a dark time he was proud of his dad for beating, and he'd worked hard to give him and Sam the best childhood he could possibly provide on his own.

Dean thought he'd done a good job of making his room "Cas ready". He had put up all of his football memorabilia and took down all his Dallas Cowboys posters. He stripped the Batman sheets off the bed and replaced them with all black sheets. He hid all of his classic rock CDs and only kept the ones he knew Cas would approve of: Green Day, Good Charlotte, My Chemical Romance, Avenged Sevenfold, Misfits. He hid all of his school books because he couldn't make it look like he actually cared about his grades, when in reality he spent most nights studying, both before and after their phone calls.

Not that Cas would care about any of that stuff anyway. He'd taken an interest in Dean, jock status and all, long before Dean began making an attempt to impress him.

There is a loud thump from outside his window, and Dean jumps and spins around in time to see Cas sliding the window open. He slips silently through, and then there he is, standing right in front of Dean in black cutoff jeans that are frayed around the ankles, black converses with bright green laces, and a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head and headphones dangling from the neck, loud music blaring through the tiny speakers.

Dean swallows with an audible click, then walks warily around Cas to slide his window shut again. He turns, finding Cas facing him with a smirk on his face.

"Hello, Dean." He says haughtily, pushing the hood off his head to unveil a mop of unruly black and blue hair.

"Hey."

Cas narrows his eyes as he pulls the speakers through his sweatshirt and wraps them around his phone, which he places in his pocket.

"You seem nervous."

Dean stalls for a minute, then shrugs, the action more confident and nonchalant than he feels.

Cas smirks again, the small stud piercing through his bottom lip pulling to the side, and he turns to look around the expanse of the room.

Dean is silent as Cas walks around the room, stopping every so often to fiddle with a stack of CDs or to flip through a book or scan over his collection of DVDs. He stops at a bookshelf with a few figurines on top, and Dean mentally cursed at himself for forgetting to discard of the porcelain angels that his dad told him his mother had insisted on giving him from his childhood. Cas turns halfway to shoot him a snide look, then raises a hand and flicks a finger at one of the angels, sending it tumbling to the floor. It shatters when it hits, pieces of porcelain skidding across the floor, and Cas's blue eyes light up with amusement as he looks over at Dean and smiles.

Dean opens his mouth to say something, but those beautiful eyes are on him, and he resolves to ignore it considering he hated those damn figurines anyway. He refuses to let sentimentality mess this up for him.

Cas squares his shoulders at him, then cocks his head sharply to the side, cracking his neck. He reaches up over his head and grabs his sweatshirt, pulling it over his head and letting it fall to the ground, and his black t-shirt falls back down over the pale but tattooed skin he had accidentally uncovered with the action. He rolls his shoulders back, the shirt nestling comfortably back around his fit torso.

Cas presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head at Dean, eyes still squinted.

"I take it you've never fucked a boy before."

Dean gulps and shakes his head.

Cas grins a little, flashing unexpectedly white teeth.

"Well, then. Looks like we're both in for a bit of a treat tonight."

Dean frowns. "You've never...been with a boy before either?"

Cas scoffs and shoots him a condescending look.

"Don't ask stupid questions, Winchester."

Dean blushes. Of course it's a stupid question. The damn boy is sex on legs.

Cas pulls the t-shirt over his head, revealing his tattooed torso. He has a large tattoo of a bee across his chest, which immediately strikes Dean as a little odd. There are also feathers coming up over the tops of his shoulders, completing what Dean is sure are anatomical wings across his back. He is covered in so much ink that it's actually hard to tell where one ends and the next begins, but they are beautifully done and Dean stares shamelessly at all the twists and turns of color. Dean knew that Cas had tattoos, as he could see parts of the ones on his arms when he wore t-shirts, as well as the "Fuck U-Up" that Cas has plastered across his knuckles.

Cas cocks his pierced brow, the thick silver hoop adorned with spikes on each end glinting off the light cast by his bedside lamp.

"Alright, pretty boy. Let me have a look at what I have to work with."

"Y-you want me to...take my clothes off?"

Brilliant blue eyes squint coldly at him.

"No fucking shit."

Dean blushes again, hard, and a brief flash of remorse crosses Cas's face.

"Sorry. Yes, I wanna see you."

Dean nods curtly and pulls his tank over his head, letting it drop to the floor. He places his hands on the button of his jeans, hesitating for a moment before unbuttoning them and pushing them and his boxers to his ankles. He watches as Cas's eyes widen marginally, quite frankly feeling a little pleased with himself. He is already half hard just from the intensity of Cas's stare. Of course he is. The mention of Cas's freakin' name sends jolts of pleasure straight to his dick.

Cas gives him a toothy grin as he stares at Dean's crotch without reservation.

"Well done, Winchester. This is going to be fun." He throws him a sly wink and steps forward, making Dean's whole body go rigid.

This is really happening.

Cas notices, and he stops in front of him, meeting Dean's eyes with his own. He places his right hand on Dean's left shoulder, squeezing it gently as he speaks.

"Chill out, freckles. I won't do anything you don't like. And look, I.." Cas hesitates.

"You what?"

"I just...really fucking like you, okay?"

"Y-you do?"

Cas looks almost defeated. "Yeah. And don't you tell a goddamn soul!" He adds harshly, gripping his shoulder tightly and pointing a finger at him.

Dean shakes his head. "I won't."

Cas's face softens a little, and he relaxes his grip. "Yeah, I know. You're different."

Dean's features crease with confusion. "Different how?"

Cas doesn't answer but instead presses himself flush to Dean's body, the rough material of his jeans brushing against the head of his cock, and Dean feels himself grow harder. He gets a whiff of the menthol from a freshly smoked cigarette, weirdly enjoying the scent. It smells like Cas.

Cas plants a few hard kisses on Dean's shoulder, then cups Dean's head with his left hand and licks a long stripe up his neck and behind his ear. Dean can feel the little ball from the piercing sliding up his skin, and he shivers noticeably.

Cas chuckles under his breath.

"I love how...responsive you are."

Dean gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing under his stubbled neck.

Cas kicks Dean's leg out further, allowing Dean to rut into his leg, which he takes full advantage of. The roughness of Cas's jeans feels amazing, and shortly after he begins his grinding the head of his cock finds Cas's. Dean suppresses a pleased chuckle when Cas sucks in a sharp breath, and he grinds agonizingly into him, attempting to will another reaction from him. Cas begins to pant lightly...nowhere near where Dean is at this point, but it's something, and Dean is damn proud of it. Dean notices his slightly crooked bottom row of teeth briefly before his attention is drawn to his impossibly pink lips, and all he can think about is how they may taste, how they may feel against his tongue, and he vaguely wonders if the piercings affect his kissing. He immediately feels the first precome bead at the swollen tip of his cock, still pressed brutally against Cas's jeans, and his knees go weak. Cas runs his tongue along Dean's jaw, nipping slightly, until they're breathing each other's hot air, and then Cas's lips are on Dean's, forceful and unforgiving, the cool metal sliding between them as Cas moves their lips in sync. Dean stumbles back until his legs hit his dresser and he brings his hands up, carding them through Cas's thick black hair. Cas licks into Dean's mouth, and there it is, that fucking tongue piercing that Dean had imagined a thousand times before, pressing into and massaging his tongue, and Dean's cock twitches with need.

Cas pulls away suddenly, dropping his hands to Dean's waist, his pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open, panting in short puffs of air.

"Enough." Cas growls, his voice deep and authoritative, and it sends chills up Dean's spine and causes the hair at the nape of his neck to stand on end.

Dean freezes, feeling suddenly vulnerable and acutely aware of his nudity, his cock hanging heavily between his legs.

Finally, Cas chokes out a laugh. Dean's pretty sure it's the only time he's ever actually heard Cas really laugh.

"Ooh-hoo! This is gonna be fun, baby boy!" He grins widely, his nose wrinkling and his bright eyes crinkling in the corners. He holds a finger in the air and makes a circular motion. "Turn around for me, baby. Lemme see you."

Dean does as he's told, and he feels Cas saddle up behind him, pressing his erection through his jeans to the crack of Dean's ass.

"Bend over."

Dean obeys, bending over and placing the palms of his hands on the top of his dresser for support. He feels like he's on display, the position and prospect of what they're about to do so taboo, and his heart rate quickens.

Cas places his hands on the small of Dean's back, then runs them up along his spine and to his shoulders slowly, and Dean feels goosebumps cover his entire body. He shivers again.

"It's okay, gorgeous boy. You're doing great."

Something about the tone of Cas's deep and gravelly voice, calm but cocky, telling him he's doing great helps to relax Dean, and he feels surprisingly more at ease. He is completely at Cas's mercy, but being at his mercy doesn't feel like a bad thing...in fact, Dean feels safe under this kind of control. He kind of likes it.

"So fucking beautiful..."

Dean feels himself blush again as Cas runs his hands back down and over his ass cheeks, squeezing them lightly and spreading them wide. He clenches nervously, then hears Cas's sharp intake of breath.

"Fuck, Winchester..."

Dean hears Cas's pants unzipping and the sound of the jeans hitting the floor behind him, and he wants nothing more than to turn to see Cas, all of him, but he doesn't. He stays put, waiting for Cas's next instructions.

Then Cas is pressed against him again, his cock plastered to Dean's ass, and it feels so much bigger than it did through his jeans. His heart pounds so hard he feels like he can hear it. He wonders vaguely if Cas can tell.

Cas hums low in his throat.

"You have such a tight little asshole. I don't think I've ever been so excited to be inside someone. But God...I can't wait to feel you around me..."

Dean shivers noticeably, and Cas chuckles. He leans heavily onto Dean, draping himself over him, his head coming to rest at Dean's right shoulder. Dean looks over at him, his eyes a little wide, mouth hanging open and panting slightly. Cas is smirking. Of course he is.

"You doing okay, freckles?"

Dean nods.

"Good." Cas leans up a little more and runs his tongue along Dean's upper lip, then pulls back and offers Dean his pointer and middle fingers. "Suck 'em for me, baby."

Dean doesn't hesitate, taking both of the digits into the warm heat of his mouth and sucking. Cas is watching with hooded eyes, looking at him with the bluest eyes that have ever existed through his long and dark eyelashes, and Dean can feel the response to his actions pressing into his ass cheek.

Dean sucks for a minute or two, running his tongue along Cas's fingers, then Cas leans in and replaces them with his tongue, pressing it flat to Dean's. The little ball feels foreign and exciting against Dean's tongue and he chases it, interested in exploring it himself. All too soon, Cas retreats, and Dean is left wanting more.

Cas slides down Dean's body and spreads his cheeks, causing him to clench again.

"Relax, angel. Let me take care of you." Cas runs his fingers over Dean's hole, and Dean's cock twitches hard under him. He moans loudly.

He hears Cas snicker behind him, then Cas's fingers are replaced by his fucking tongue, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin with shock and arousal. Cas flicks his tongue expertly over the puckered muscle, and Dean's legs are shaking after mere seconds, and he's having trouble staying still despite already being bent over a sturdy wooden dresser. When Cas spreads Dean's cheeks wider and plunges his tongue inside his hole, Dean nearly comes right then.

"Fuuucckkk!"

Cas stops suddenly and reaches around, grabbing Dean's cock at the base and giving his balls a short tug with his other hand.

"No, no, baby boy. Not just yet. You can come when I say you can, got it?"

Dean just nods, whimpering.

Cas lets go and spreads Dean's cheeks again, and his fingers are back, rubbing his saliva all over his sensitive hole. Dean's legs twitch under him and he silently prays that they don't fail him as he puts the rest of his weight on the dresser, laying flush with the wood.

Cas rubs a circle over Dean's hole before pushing the tip of a finger in, and Dean cries out and clenches wildly around him.

"That's it, gorgeous." Cas coaxes as he works his finger slowly in and out, then adds another and continues the slow assault. "Let me know how good it is."

And Dean does. He's gripping the edge of the dresser and panting and moaning like a porn star, crying out every so often with a curse word or gasping Cas's name, the burning and stretching of his hole feeling otherworldly as his legs quiver and scream in protest.

Cas loves it; it's spurring him on. It isn't long before he's full-on fucking Dean's hole with his fingers, pushing them deep and sliding them in and out with ease, scissoring him open with every movement. Dean feels himself begin to teeter on the edge of orgasm again, and again Cas staves it off. Dean's cock is throbbing beneath him, aching for release, his hole squeezing impossibly tight around Cas's fingers.

"You're doing so well, Dean. So good for me..."

The way Cas says his name sends a new jolt of pleasure through Dean, and he's strangely relaxed by Cas's odd technique of giving praise while in the middle of something so risque and vulgar, but it works for both of them, Dean responding to every word with a moan or whimper.

Then Cas turns his fingers down and plunges deep inside him, brushing his sensitive prostate and Dean screams, bucking hard against the dresser, his shaking legs giving out under him. Cas holds him tightly and continues his pace, working his slender fingers expertly in and out of him and hitting that spot each time, causing intense ripples of pleasure to spread throughout Dean's whole body. He feels it from the tips of his toes all the way to the backs of his ears, which grow hot with anticipation. He's sweating, drops of perspiration falling off the tip of his nose onto the dresser. He whimpers and cries out again.

"CAS!"

Cas growls, plunging deep and fingering that magical spot, and Dean's seeing stars.

"That's it, baby! Be fucking loud for me!"

Dean lets out a long moan that ends with a whimper, tears actually springing to his eyes when he feels Cas squeeze the base of his cock again.

"Cas, please...let me..." he gasps, but Cas cuts him off.

"Don't you dare come yet, Winchester. I'm enjoying this way. Too. Much." Cas spits a word with each thrust of his fingers. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to beg though, baby. Cause see...I swear to you, I'm not gonna stop. Not until your legs are shaking and the goddamn neighbors know my name."

He hits the spot again, and Dean lets out another strangled Cas, followed by another whimper.

Cas chuckles softly. "Hmm. Looks like we're already halfway there."

Dean groans, rebracing himself against the dresser despite his shaking legs. Dean revels over how incredible it is that Cas has made him feel like this without even touching his dick, but then, he supposes that Cas has had plenty of experience. Dean wants to reciprocate, wants to impress Cas, but he's so fucking lost to him at the moment he can't think of anything. Then it hits him...perhaps no one has ever had the audacity to do anything but obey him. Maybe Cas is looking for someone with a little fight in them.

So Dean plants his feet and pushes himself back against Cas, thrusting his hips back and forth, fucking himself on Cas's fingers and screaming loudly, throwing in Cas's name with every string of curse words. Cas's pace hitches for a moment, the action obviously catching him off-guard, but Dean only gets a second of arrogance before he recovers and a strong hand grips Dean's hip as Cas's fingers seem to work themselves deeper inside him.

"Holy fuck!" Cas gasps with a breathy laugh. "Who knew Dean Winchester would get off taking it up the ass? You my little whore, Winchester?"

Dean moans in response.

"If you wanna come you better answer me, pretty boy. You my little virgin whore?"

"Y-yessss-ss..." Dean manages between strangled thrusts.

"Hell yeah you are, baby. But you're not coming this way. Wouldn't you rather come with me inside you?"

Dean nods desperately.

"That's what I thought." Cas pulls his fingers slowly out of Dean's hole, and it clenches tightly at his withdrawal. Dean moans loudly.

"Still so fuckin' tight..." Cas muses, and Dean hears him rustling before hearing the crinkle of foil packet.

No. No no no no no.

He turns and reaches out, grabbing Cas's wrist. Cas raises his eyes to look at him, confusion on his face. Dean shakes his head vehemently.

"No." He says as sternly as he can between heavy breaths. "Just you, Cas. Please."

Cas cocks the pierced brow and gives a smirk.

"You sure?"

Dean nods again.

Cas shakes his head a little, still smirking.

"You continue to surprise me, Winchester."

Dean turns and braces himself again, mentally slapping himself for not taking in an eyeful of Cas's cock when he could've. He doesn't have time to dwell on it before he feels the head of Cas's cock pressing to his hole, and he holds his breath.

"You ready?" Cas asked, his voice different, a little gentler, kinder.

"Y-yes..."

Cas thrust slowly, the pressure heavy against his hole, then the head pushes past Dean's tight ring of pink muscle, and he screams again, his voice breaking. Cas is huge, and with just the head of his cock barely inserted, Dean wonders vaguely how all of him would fit.

But Cas pushes slowly, deeper and deeper, and he keeps pushing, until he is seated fully inside and Dean is moaning like the whore he claimed to be. Cas leans against him, panting heavier now than he has this entire time, and Dean is pleased with himself for being able to affect Cas in such a way. Cas hasn't even begun to move, and Dean is so full, his cock still hanging heavy and hard between his legs, slick with precome all over the head.

"Goddamn, Winchester..." Cas breathes, gripping both of Dean's hips tightly and digging his blunt nails into his skin.

Cas pulls back out slowly and slams back in, forcing Dean to knock against the dresser hard, bruising his knees. He screams again, and begins to whimper as Cas continues to pump in and out of him. He is flirting with the edge of pleasure and pain, the burning and stretching feeling dissipating with each thrust, being overtaken with pure ecstasy. Cas is easily brushing his prostate with each thrust, and it won't be long before Dean explodes with the force of multiple pent-up orgasms.

Cas fucks into him hard, his thighs slapping against Dean's backside, and Dean idly remembers the piercing Cas undoubtedly has on his cock. He doesn't have long to ponder before his body is rocked with another wave of insurmountable pleasure. His legs shake and he clenches his hole sporadically, causing Cas to hiss through his teeth.

"CAS!" He cries again, on the verge of a sob.

"That's right, baby. Say my fucking name!"

And Dean does. He screams it, over and over and over until his voice is hoarse and his throat is raw. He screams it as Cas pounds relentlessly into him. He screams it as pre-orgasm shudders shake his entire body and his mind becomes flooded with Cas; his hair, his tattoos, his piercings, his confidence, his deep voice, his attitude, those goddamn blue fucking eyes. Cas is everywhere, Cas is everything, filling him up and surrounding him with an almost ethereal presence, draping himself over Dean and vowing his protection.

The pleasure is too much, it's overwhelming, his orgasm building from every crevice in his body. He's too hot and his body is too exhausted, his shaking legs barely holding any of his weight, but Cas knows Dean's pleasure...hell, he'd been the primary source of Dean's pleasure for so long now, despite having not actually touched him until this point.

"You've been so good for me, Dean...you've done so well. Are you ready?"

Dean chokes a sobbed cry in response.

"Who am I to argue with that?" Cas taunts playfully.

Cas never slows his rhythm, never loses pace, but reaches around and places a hand around Dean's shaft, squeezing and pulling gently.

And Dean comes so hard he can't breathe. He's gasping, panting, crying...the pleasure rocking his entire body as the thick liquid paints the front of his dresser and the inside of his thighs. He comes and comes, his cock pulsating with another surge of spend each time he thinks he can't possibly come any more. He comes so hard his cock throbs painfully between his legs, but when Cas gives it one more squeeze, he feels more sticky liquid dribble down his shaft.

His legs are useless, and he slumps heavily between the hard wood and Cas's sweaty thighs, and Cas allows his cock to slip out of Dean's tight hole.

"So fucking good, baby..." Cas murmurs, holding Dean's weight with a strong arm. "Look at me, gorgeous. Watch me."

Dean turns to look at Cas, whose hair is wilder than normal and whose pupils are blown wide, almost no blue visible. Cas is stoic and serious, and Dean watches as he retracts his hand from Dean's cock and raises it to his lips, his pierced tongue darting out and licking off a long stripe of come, using a pointer finger to spread it over his tongue. He closes his mouth around the finger, closing his eyes, and he sucks softly, a peaceful look on his face.

If Dean wasn't already spent, the sight would've tipped him over the edge.

Cas opens his eyes again and looks down, subtly acknowledging his own cock, still huge and hard between his legs.

"My turn now, freckles. You just stay where you are." He places the come-covered hand on his own cock, running it up and down a few times. "Can you hold yourself up?"

Dean tests his legs and found them somewhat recovered, and he nods.

"Good, baby. Just relax."

Dean turns and braces himself, but Cas doesn't enter him again. Instead Dean hears a vulgar, wet sound...the sound of Cas jerking himself. Dean is overcome with the desire to watch, but the desire to obey Cas is greater, and he stays put.

Cas grips Dean's left ass cheek and pulls, revealing his hole once more. He jerks himself a few more times, hard and fast, the lubrication of Dean's come making downright obscene sounds against his skin. In no time he is coming too, his sticky spend coating Dean's clenching hole and running down his crack and spreading down his legs. Dean is covered in a mixture of Cas's and his own come, and he looks fucking beautiful.

Cas reaches down and slides both of his hands up Dean's thighs and around to his ass, the mixed come leaving a thick trail everywhere Cas's hands touched. He spreads their spend on Dean's thighs, his ass, and partway up his back as he draws Dean up to him and gives his shoulder a small bite, then kisses it.

"You're all mine now, gorgeous. And no one touches what's mine."

All Dean can do is nod. Of course he's Cas's. It was never a question.

But he has to ask...

"Are you mine, too, Cas?"

Cas chuckles breathlessly, running agile fingers along Dean's biceps. Dean leans back into the touch, letting his head fall back to Cas's shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere, freckles."