Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/918988.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Dream_Sex, Rough_Sex, Light_Dom/sub, Coming_Untouched, Chair_Sex,
      bottom!Dean, very_top!Cas, cas_is_apparently_not_repressed_in_his_dreams,
      BAMF!Cas, Power_Play, Face-Fucking, Fingerfucking, Spit_Kink, Spanking,
      this_is_so_effing_filthy_jesus, Desk_Sex, Explicit_Language, cas_is_a
      seriously_kinky_fuck, Office_Sex, human!Cas, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without
      Plot, Breathplay
  Series:
      Part 2 of Watching_You_'verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-09 Words: 2382
****** Feel You in My Dreams ******
by DevilMadeMeDoIt
Summary
     oneshot timestamp for Watching You, Watching Me. takes place sometime
     between chapters 20 and 21.
     this would be the dream mentioned in cas' thoughts as dean listens in
     from the hallway.
     its not absolutely necessary to read the main fic for this, this is
     100% grade A smut. no plot in sight. although cas is british, so that
     can explain all the 'bloody's
     (Dean is 17, Cas is 28)
Notes
     so i wrote a *brief* mention of castiel having a dream/fantasy of
     dean and office/desk/chair sex.
     and then that poor cockblocked SOB took over my brain and made me
     write this. i think he's mad at me.
     there is zero sign of my fluffy sweet castiel in this. he's a damn
     animal. a filthy, filthy animal.
     enjoy :D
 
Castiel is dreaming.
 
He knows this because the desk chair he is is sitting in is large, comfortable,
the leather hugging his body in ways that the simple rolling chair he actually
had never could.
 
He is reading one of his well-loved first editions, right leg hooked over the
knee of his left when the door of his office creaks open softly. He glances up
as Dean struts into his space.
 
Dean is wearing wickedly tight dark blue jeans. His white t-shirt is molded to
his chest underneath the supple black leather of an unzipped motorcycle jacket.
His green eyes are fever bright and sparkling, his hair tousled as if he had
rolled out of bed looking just so perfectly fucked-out and tempting like that.
 
He walks in front of Castiel in his chair and pushes him back on well oiled
casters. As he perches his ass on the edge of his desk, his arms sweep behind
him and out on either side, sending Castiel's belongings crashing to the floor.
Castiel cannot look away from that heated gaze, despite the fact that he knows
that Dean's careless gesture has shattered his favorite teacup, and likely
ruined several priceless books in the process. He doesn't care.
 
All he can see is the boy in front of him. All he wants is that boy, wrecked
and claimed by him and only him.
 
Dean smirks as he leans back on his palms. One booted foot lifts from the floor
and drags the toe up to gently kick Castiel's legs apart. The boot continues
its journey up his calf, his thigh, until it brushes sweet and heavy against
Castiel's arousal.
 
Castiel growls and his fingers encircle the ankle attached to the wandering
foot. He yanks, shocking Dean out of his lazy, confident teasing. Castiel's
smile is predatory as the boy falls back on his elbows on the desk. The look on
his face is so perfectly surprised that Castiel cannot suppress a dark chuckle.
 
Mine now. Too late.
 
Before Dean can right himself on the desk, Castiel is on him, hips pushing
between those sinfully bowed legs, pinning him against the wood. His hands are
shoving beneath the leather jacket, pushing it roughly off of shoulders that
are just beginning to broaden. The jacket is tossed somewhere behind him, he
could care less where.
 
Dean is giving him wide eyes, as if he cannot comprehend how he has gotten
here. Castiel fists his hands in the boy's t-shirt and hauls him up to crash
their lips together in a bruising, punishing kiss.
 
Castiel pulls back from the kiss, nipping at Dean's full bottom lip. He steps
back from the boy and reaches up to grip his jaw tightly. With his other hand
at Dean's shoulder, he pushes him down to his knees. Carding fingers through
that tousled hair, Dean looks up at him as his hands raise to pull at Castiel's
belt.
 
Castiel nods. “Good boy. Keep going.” Dean blushes prettily at the praise, and
his fingers slip the button from its hole, the slow slide of the zipper making
a metallic sound in the silence. Castiel reaches into his slacks, lifting
himself out of the opening. He is hard, flushed deep pink with desire, the
smooth, rounded crown slick with pre-come.
 
He rocks his hips forward until the wet head of his cock is nudging at Dean's
plush pink lips. He groans as his tongue flicks out and laps against him. His
hand slips through silky brown hair to rest at the back of Dean's head. He
watches with lust-hooded eyes as Dean parts his lips and slides the head of his
cock into the burning, slick heat of his mouth. Castiel fights not to buck his
hips, fights not to thrust into that mouth until he chokes on his length.
 
Dean is taking him in, inch by inch, the flat of his tongue working against the
underside of his cock. When he has taken in all that he can, and the sensitive
head is pushing at Dean's throat, the boy shudders and stares up at him.
Castiel draws his hips back, pulling against the exquisite suction of that
mouth. Dean's hands are resting on the backs of Castiel's thighs, and he
reaches down to guide one to his spit-slick shaft.
 
Dean wraps his fingers around his cock and strokes slowly, wrist twisting
slightly on each upstroke. His tongue is playing over the crown, kitten licks
and and tracing patterns as his hand works him with a steady pace. Fire is
burning in Castiel's gut.
 
The only warning that Castiel gets that Dean is about to change up what he is
doing is a tiny flicker of mischief in the green depths of his eyes. His hand
pulls away from him and Castiel's head is thrown back with a shout as Dean
shoves his mouth down around him, forcing his cock deep into his throat. He
fucks his own throat with Castiel's cock, lips slack and open wide. Castiel's
hand fists in the hair under his fingers and he thrusts into that pliant mouth,
groaning each time Dean swallows around him, the muscles in his throat
fluttering around his length.
 
Castiel takes his pleasure from that wet, yeilding heat, thrusting as carefully
as possible. He feels himself growing closer, and closer, but this is far from
over yet. He has not waited for so long for this to be over yet. With a
rumbling moan, Castiel thrusts once more into Dean's mouth, pushing as deep as
he can go. His hand holds Dean's head down until his nose is pressed into
Castiel's groin. He chokes, making desperate noises for air as he waits. One
second, three, five. He lets go of Dean's hair and the boy pulls back with a
gasp that falls off into a groan. Castiel looks down to see the swollen lips,
strings of saliva trailing from Dean's mouth to his cock, and bloody hell could
he come just from the debauched look on his hunter's face alone.
 
He strokes a thumb over the boy's lower lip, sliding it inside briefly. “Stand
up, Dean.” He complies and stands before him. Castiel slides his hands over
Dean's body, pushing up under his t-shirt to feel the play of muscle under
skin. He pulls the shirt off and groans appreciatively at the sight. His hands
drop to Dean's waist, following the line of his jeans to the center. He pops
open the button and pulls the zipper down by the tab. Fingers slide under the
elastic of Dean's tight black boxer briefs, and Dean moans softly when he palms
both cheeks, spreading them apart and squeezing before pushing underwear and
jeans off his ass to puddle at his feet.
 
Castiel takes Dean's hard, aching cock in hand and strokes loosely, providing
little friction when the boy bucks his hips into the circle of his fingers. He
strokes until Dean is panting out sweet little frustrated cries, and then gives
one long, tight pull.
 
With hands on his hips, Castiel turns Dean until he is facing the desk. “Elbows
down on the desk. Spread your legs and arch your back.” Dean does as he's told,
bending over the desk, presenting his tight, oh-so-fuckable little ass to
Castiel's hungry gaze. Dean looks over his shoulder at him, biting down on his
lip as he watches Castiel watch him.
 
Castiel wants to be inside Dean right fucking now. He reaches out towards
Dean's mouth with two fingers. “Suck. Get them wet so that I can fuck you open
for my cock.” Dean moans at his words and opens his mouth to take the fingers
inside. He laves each digit with his tongue, covering them with as much saliva
as he possibly can. When Castiel can wait no longer, he slips his fingers from
Dean's mouth and brings them up to stroke against his hole. Dean cries out as
he teases, pressing the tip of one finger inside gently before circling around
the rim of that pretty little pucker. He pushes one finger again, just inside,
and Dean must anticipate his teasing because his hips shove back and his entire
finger disappears with that tight ring of muscle squeezing down on him.
 
He slaps Dean's ass with his free hand, causing the boy to yelp. “Impatient.
You take what I give you, Dean.” His hand connects with skin again, hard, and
he is momentarily distracted by the clear red handprint rising to the surface
of his skin. Dean is whining and rocking oh-so-subtly against the desk, trying
to get his finger to move. Castiel grins. He hooks the finger inside Dean as he
pulls it out, and his fingernail scrapes gently against Dean's sweet spot. He
keens and spasms against the desk.
 
He pulls the finger out completely and Dean whimpers. He wants Dean wet and he
has no supplies. He spits in his hand and then rubs it over Dean's hole,
slipping a finger in fast and hard. He fucks that one finger in and out,
rubbing every other time over Dean's prostate. He lines up a second finger and
just strokes the rim with it as he twists his wrist. Dean is moaning on every
stroke in. Jesus...he only has one finger in. This boy was determined to make
him come in his trousers.
 
He pulls the fingers away again and holds his hand under Dean's chin. “Spit.
Want you dripping wet when I fuck you.” Dean blushes and looks at him,
hesitating. Castiel smirks. “I can fuck you with out it, Dean. This is a
courtesy. Up to you.” Dean blushes again and glares at him as he spits in
Castiel's hand. Castiel gives him a brisk smack on the ass. “Good boy.”
 
He spreads the new source of lubrication on Dean and without preamble, shoves
two fingers in. Dean huffs out a punched-out moan and clenches around the
fingers, rocking his hips just slightly, desperate for Castiel to do something.
Castiel moves his hand, hard and fast, slamming his fingers into Dean's hole.
He scissors the fingers as he goes, stretching and getting him ready. He slips
his ring finger into the mix and pauses, stroking. Dean is still, but his
breaths are panting, frantic. “Can you take three, Dean?” The boy moans hard.
“Cas! Oh God, yes!” He takes the permission granted and squeezes the third
finger in. Holy God he is tight. So bloody tight. He fucks Dean with his
fingers for another minute before he can stand it no longer. He needs to be
inside that tight, wet, clenching body. Now.
 
He slips his fingers out and Dean groans in disappointment. He brings his wet
fingers down hard against Dean's ass, the slickness making the slap sharper,
louder. Dean screams and bites his lip through a sob. “Now, now Dean.” He
soothes gently over the red welt raising on his skin. When his breathing calms,
Castiel toes his shoes off and pushes his slacks off of his ass, kicking out of
them.
 
He sits in the big leather chair and reaches out for Dean's hips, guiding him
back to straddle him in reverse, back to his chest. Castiel scoots down into
the seat and lifts Dean so that he is sitting on Castiel's stomach. It isn't
the most comfortable of positions, but it won't be for long, and now he can
wrap a hand around both his and Dean's leaking cocks. Dean's head falls back
against his shoulder and Castiel kisses and sucks at the side of his neck as he
strokes them together. Dean begins whimpering with every pass of his hand, and
Castiel knows he is close. Dean is bucking his hips into Castiel's fist when he
pulls away, and he sobs in frustration.
 
He licks his way up to Dean's ear, wet fingers sliding to tease and pinch at
one of his nipples. “Dean, I'm going to give you a choice. I can use my hand
and make you come like that, or I can fuck you, and you can come on my cock
untouched. What do you want, Dean?” He purred, licking the shell of Dean's ear.
His hand slid down the boy's stomach fingers reaching for his cock. Dean's hand
on his wrist stopped him. “Please....” He whispered. “Please fuck me, Cas.
Please. That's what I want.”
 
Castiel groaned. “Good boy.” He spat in his palm again and slicked himself up.
He gripped onto Dean's hips and lifted him against his stomach. With an arm
around his waist he lined himself up with Dean's hole. He kissed the trembling
boy behind his ear. “Ready, love?” Dean could only nod desperately.
 
He rocked his hips up at the same time he pulled Dean down and sank home, so
deep inside. Dean cried out as he filled him so completely. “Fuck, Dean....you
are so bloody tight. How are you still so tight?” Castiel's voice was strained.
He wasn't going to last long. Fuck. He reached down with both hands and pulled
Dean's legs up against his chest.
 
They both took a second to adjust to the new angle, and then all bets were off.
Castiel snapped his hips against Dean as hard as he could, fucking into him as
hard and as fast as he could possibly move. He pounded deep into that tight,
slick channel, over and over until Dean's beautiful sobbing moans dissolved
into a high, continuous keening. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Castiel dug his fingertips
into the back of Dean's knees and slammed himself inside, hips losing their
punishing rhythm as he started to come apart at the seams. He managed to hold
himself off long enough to shout out. “Jesus Christ Dean, fucking come now!
Come now, love!” Dean screamed as he clenched down impossibly hard around
Castiel. He thrust inside a bare handful more times and then he froze, buried
to the hilt and spilled hot and thick inside Dean.
 
Castiel woke shouting Dean's name into the empty air of his bedroom. He was
soaked in sweat...and other things if the enormous wet spot dripping down his
hip meant anything.
 
He groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face.
 
That boy was going to bloody kill him one of these days.
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