Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7181738.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester
  Character:
      Castiel, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Alternate_Universe_-_Serial_Killers,
      Age_Difference, Teacher-Student_Relationship, Older_Castiel, Dark
      Castiel, Younger_Dean, Dean_is_sixteen, Jock_Dean, Twink_Dean, Dean_in
      Panties, Smut, Romance, Horror, BDSM, Psychological_Horror, Dark, Porn
      With_Plot, Top_Castiel, Bottom_Dean, Dom_Castiel, Sub_Dean, Underage_Sex,
      Explicit_Sexual_Content, Rough_Sex, Blow_Jobs, Face-Fucking, Anal_Sex,
      Orgasm_Denial, Dirty_Talk, Riding, Anal_Fingering, All_the_Sin, Spanking,
      Bondage, Sex_Toys, Dildos, Butt_Plugs, Exhibitionism, Masturbation,
      Coming_Untouhed, Coming_Untouched, Humiliation, Panties, Blood_Play,
      Blood_Kink, pain_play, Dean_and_Castiel_are_seriously_fucked_up,
      Comeplay, Come_Eating, Cock_Warming, Public_Sex, Milking, Chastity
      Device, Praise_Kink, Voice_Kink, Nipple_Play, this_story_is_basically
      dark_smutty_trash, Dubious_Consent, Violence, Torture, Minor_Character
      Death, Gaslighting, Obsession, Emotional/Psychological_Abuse,
      Manipulation, Castiel_is_one_scary_motherfucker, Psychological_Mind_Fuck,
      Possessive_Behavior, Conditioning, Training, Coercion
  Series:
      Part 2 of Kinky_Murder_Sex_'Verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-12 Chapters: 1/? Words: 6028
****** Murder in Pink Satin ******
by subtextual
Summary
     From the moment Dean Winchester meets his English teacher he knows he
     is fucked. And he is not so sure if it’s in the fun way. One thing is
     for sure- it’s so much less complicated in the pornos.
Notes
     This story is about a hundred different kinds of fucked up. I warned
     for pretty much everything in the tags, but to summarize...
     Dean and Castiel begin a relationship with an eighteen year age
     difference. In the beginning Dean is sixteen. There is lots of
     underage sex and not a lot of morals involved.
     Castiel kills people. He kills lots of people and, especially, those
     that Dean is attracted to. His emotions turn on and off depending on
     when they are convenient. He will torture someone without blinking an
     eye, and enjoy it.
     Dean isn’t exactly innocent himself. Though he does feel guilt at
     first and is being manipulated he reaches a point where he does not
     care if people die or not. In the end he’s not the victim.
     **I would like to note this is neither a safe or healthy portrayal of
     BDSM. There will be some aftercare involved but ultimately Castiel is
     using BDSM to train Dean and that is not a sign of a good,
     functioning relationship. Everything is not discussed in detail and
     Dean's submissive nature is used against him.
     Enjoy!
☠ Murder in Pink Satin ☠
Ch 1- Beg For It
===============================================================================
Mr. Novak is going on at length about Crime and Punishment and the themes of
law and justice throughout Tolsky’s work. Like always Dean isn’t paying
attention. Instead he is screwing around with his pencil, turning it and
flipping it between his fingers. After all that is far more interesting then
freakin’ English. ‘Sides he read the book once, just curious about the newest
heavy book his thirteen year old brother dragged home. More then anything he
hated it because of how much he related to the main character, and that guy had
been a total self loathing asshole. At some point Dean’s pencil dropped from
his hand and since his teacher’s on a long boring lecture he figures no one
will notice if he bends to get his pencil.
Damn it.
It rolled across the floor, to where Dean would have to literally crawl under
the desk to get it. Wouldn’t be so bad if he was in the fourth or fifth row
maintaining some form of subtle but damn it he’s in the first because of ‘I
hope this will help you concentrate, Dean’ and the asshole authority he carried
being his teacher. Reluctantly he is moving from the desk which gets the
attention of the whole class, ‘course.
“What are you doing?” The voice is rough and dark, like he ate a bowl full of
glass and nails for breakfast. Even turned around Dean can feel that intense
stare. Gunmetal blue pinned to the back of him.
Instead of answering Dean continues on his knees to get his fucking pencil that
started all of this and probably alerted the entire class. Just as he sees it-
a worn number two, the pink nub of an eraser chewed on from boredom - he arched
forward to grab it. There’s a sharp intake of breath. Dean doesn’t think
anything of it.
And why would he? He hasn’t worn boxers since he discovered how good the fabric
feels against his skin. How awesome it is to just sit in class with his cock
trapped. The thrill of going to practice with pretty underwear on beneath his
jersey and pants. Of course Dean wouldn’t remember that other people could see
his panties. It was his secret. No one would ever find out.
As Dean stands victoriously with the pencil gripped in his hands he realizes
that he is totally fucking wrong. The look his teacher gives him is difficult
to place, a range of facial expressions that just wouldn’t be there on a thirty
somethin’ year old English teacher. Mr. Novak’s eyes are blown wide with a
black-blue flame lit. “See me after class, Mr. Winchester,” he commanded.
Oh, fuck. Dean’s completely fucked. And it’s probably not gonna be in the fun
way.
===============================================================================
Ten minutes later the bell rang and the class rushes out. Everyone had heard
the clear order in Mr. Novak’s voice, and from past experience no one wants to
be there to experience it if they do not have to. Dean understood, even if as
his friend Ash passes him with a wince he mouthed that he was a fucking dick.
In other classes when he got in trouble he usually has a friend there to stick
around. Nobody wants to confront their English teacher though. Dude might be
nerdy but he exerts this quiet authority, this power like he would literally
fuck any student’s world up if they so much as dared interrupt his lecture.
Safe to say Dean found it hot. Scary, but hot.
So it’s only Dean and the teacher he’s had a crush on since Mr. Novak gave him
detention his first day of class for being late. Between them is something not
like the companionship of a mentor. The energy is charged. And yeah, the fact
his god damn teacher saw the lace band of his panties.
As the teen watched the tick of the glossy clock change from three-thirty to
three-thirty one he decides, fuck it.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” The word is not a second thought. It is a
compliance to the beginning of the year, when Mr. Novak demanded that every
student refer to him by his last name or sir as a proper form of respect.
Everyone thought he was bullshitting but that train of thought booked it when
each grade was docked under behavior in class ten percent. It soon became clear
that not only was their teacher a hard ass, but he gave no mercy.
The smile the man wore was pleased, Dean could see it in the curl of his lips.
Mr. Novak’s eyes though- they still haven’t changed. Other then using a term
like lust, which he couldn’t apply no matter how much he wanted to, it was
downright predatory. None of that made sense though. Disgusted, maybe.
Accusing? Ordering Dean to inform him of why he enjoys wearing woman’s
underwear?
His teacher moved from his desk with purpose, walking past him towards the door
where he abruptly locked it. Now Dean is... confused to say the least. It’s
weird. It’s all so fucking crazy-ass weird. Biting down hard on his tongue he
tried to ignore how his heart picked up. Mr. Novak still hasn’t said a word.
Instead he took off his beige trench coat before folding his arms. By now he
has crossed over the room back to the front. His stare is expectant and
capturing. It holds Dean’s attention for so long that he doesn’t even recognize
the sound of himself talking, rambling out some stupid apology.
Waving a hand Mr. Novak dismisses it all and Dean fell silent. “Strip.” It is
said so normally and casually, though not without passion. The words fall
between them for several moments, and he has no clue what to say. Not one. His
teacher’s lips are a firm line.
Dean sure as hell doesn’t react to it like he would any other order in class.
His cock gives an interested twitch, and he feels like he could wet his panties
from precome alone at just a god damn word. Strip. Strip. Strip. Oh, fuck. Half
ready to do just that Dean only stopped when he realized just where he was.
Surely he heard him wrong. “Uh, I can’t hear you sir,” he apologized, and hated
how red the back of his neck got. It wasn’t a full body blush at all, but it
was still a dangerous one.
Blue eyes blink once and the way Mr. Novak’s nostrils flare is telling in ways
he never expected. Frustrated. He’s frustrated. But for what? Dean forced
himself to look his teacher over entirely. He didn’t like doing it, didn’t like
looking at the gorgeous older man any more then he had to. It wasn’t even his
sharp jawline, or the dark mess of hair that always reminded him of sex. As
Dean’s eyes drag down he gave himself one quick glance at his groin.
Holy shit. Not only was his teacher huge, but the bulge in his black slacks was
so fucking obvious. It finally clicked for Dean like the last puzzle piece. He
was turned on. Mr. Novak was really, really turned on.
“Strip, Mr. Winchester,” the man growled out. “I will not ask you again.”
It should make him feel gross and taken advantage of. It doesn’t. Instead Dean
holds back a moan as he frantically threw off his letterman jacket. He’s
working on his shirt and about to unbutton his jeans when all of a sudden he is
pushed down onto a desk.
“You are far too slow,” Mr. Novak hummed and pulled down his jeans in one quick
yank. Immediately Dean felt the cool of the air conditioner on his thighs, his
legs. Anywhere that is exposed by the pink panties he wore. It’s a freaky
sensation combined with how hot his face is. But in the most awesome way.
Though Dean has no fucking clue what his teacher is going to do, that’s
probably at least half the excitement for him. If Mr. Novak simply got out his
cock and pounded Dean’s ass, or if he took him apart with those long fingers...
Neither is done. Maybe he had too high of hopes. Maybe the man just wanted to
look, but was afraid to actually do anything. Didn’t wanna cross so many lines.
His face is flat against the desk and Mr. Novak’s hand is still shoved roughly
in his hair as he is held down. Dean wanted to open his mouth to explain that
he doesn’t need to be held down, but he has always wondered what it would be
like to be manhandled by his teacher. Since he’s already going to Hell he has
gotta at least enjoy the ride.
Once again Dean feels eyes on him. They are heavy like the fifty pound weights
he lifted this morning in the school gym. He stared at the wooden texture then
shivered when his jeans are dropped completely. Shit, it’s like his heart is
caught in his throat. From his position he can see some kid’s initials carved
into one of the desks. It looks old and faded, probably from before Mr. Novak
even started teaching.
The quiet assessment began to make Dean feel embarrassed. It’s been almost five
or so minutes of him bent over, wearing a stretched out grungy AC/DC shirt and
some tiny underwear. The teen is certain Mr. Novak can see his practically
naked ass. Not entirely sure if he is allowed to talk he let out a quiet
whimper that is shushed before it can even end. Rough fingers are released from
his hair. “Go to the front of the room, Dean.”
Fuck. His name shouldn’t be so hot. But it is, it freakin’ is, and it’s
intimate in ways he never would even think of. “Yes, sir.”
Heart slamming hard in his chest and his dick near painful in the scrap of pink
lace Dean wore he walked to the front of the classroom. Mr. Novak looked
expectant with his arms crossed over his chest. At some point he had rolled up
the sleeves of his white button down to reveal muscular forearms. Mostly he is
focused on those eyes, dark and lethal in a blue that reminded him of endless
fire. He felt he had to focus on those, let them warm him to the otherwise cool
of the air conditioner. Never before had he been more exposed.
Looking down at the floor he stared at the black and white tile. It’s not often
he goes to the front of the classroom. The last time was about a month ago,
when they had to do PowerPoint presentations on a book of their choosing. It
had been one of the only projects Dean ever had gotten an A on. The rapture and
love he felt for Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five fell from his lips with
ease that day. His teacher had seemed so proud too, had praised him with his
eyes and voice on the clear passion Dean felt.
It was almost like that day now as he took to breaking his gaze from the floor
to stare at Mr. Novak for further instruction. The only difference was the lack
of surrounding students. He wasn’t talking about Vonnegut anymore, but the
praise was still there.
“Such a good boy,” his teacher cooed as he stood on display for him. “Turn. I
want to see your pretty, pretty ass.”
Dean’s mortified and his face showed it as he burned red. Without saying
anything he moved to face the direction of the whiteboard. From up close he can
read Mr. Novak’s handwriting- it’s an elegant cursive that reads out the
assignment for the night. It occurred to him he had never written it down.
A groan cut through his thoughts. It’s low and hot, absolute filth that
shouldn’t be possible in a god damn classroom. Holy shit. Is... is his teacher
jacking off? When he spoke next his voice is cracked. “Can I turn around now?”
“Not yet.” A pant. “Fuck, you are so gorgeous. How often do you wear your
panties, Dean? How often do you sit in class like a dirty little slut wearing
them?” Mr. Novak growled out.
It’s completely unexpected and Dean nearly came right then and there. His
teacher, who had always been so strict and proper, was now dirty talking the
shit outta him. He swallowed hard. “A- awhile,” he squeaked out and his lashes
fluttered as he looked at the floor once more. Normally Dean would hate himself
for acting so weak, but right now he couldn’t find it in him to care. He liked
this.
“Does it feel good? When the lace rubs against your dick?” The question is
breathed out right against his ear. Dean hadn’t even realized that the man had
walked over. Now though his presence is obvious. Even if he is taller by a few
inches it is like Mr. Novak towers over him. He’s powerful, much more powerful
then any high school teacher has a right to be.
Long fingers reach for the lace of the pink panties he wore. With a gasp from
Dean one finger is hooked into a bunch of the material and yanks, hard. It’s
tight, so tight against his dick and the back of his underwear now riding up
his ass. “Tell me how it feels boy,” Mr. Novak ordered.
Oh. Oh fuck. “Awesome,” Dean breathed out as the same finger twisted around the
soft fabric. He whined bucking his hips, a little desperately, towards the
friction. “Totally awesome.”
Mr. Novak uses his fingers to slide the panties up and down Dean’s cheeks. It’s
degrading and embarrassing and it couldn’t be any hotter. A low, dark chuckle
escaped his teacher. “Do you think I could fuck you with your own panties,
Dean?” He questioned roughly.
His brain short circuited. A hard smack against his ass jerks Dean’s attention
back. Yelping at the sting he was about to move his hand back to rub at his
cheek when both of his arms were pinned in front of him by one strong hand.
“Answer me,” Mr. Novak demanded.
“Yea-yeah,” Dean gasped out. “Please do sir. Oh, fuck...”
The lace and silk fabric is pressed right up against his hole now. With an
obscene moan he pushes his ass back. Shit if this doesn’t feel good, the
material so soft against his skin. By now his cock is heavy and thick between
his legs, leaking. Precome leaves a wet patch at the front of his underwear.
Mr. Novak uses one forceful hand to thrust the material into his entrance.
It’s a strange sensation-- relentless in a way Dean hadn’t expected. Though the
panties are delicate satin and warm it burns so good against his skin. He can
feel the drag of lace across his balls, his lips falling open in a groan.
Arching his back he keens in pure fucking pleasure.
“Such a whore. Getting off by me only touching your panties,” his teacher
snarled in his ear. Then all of a sudden he felt teeth sinking into the meat of
his shoulder and cried out.
The buildup spreads through his thighs until it’s everywhere. For a second Dean
tenses as his hole clenched around the fabric. And then he is coming, hard. His
cock spurts out in thick, white ropes painting the satin material. There’s a
tear on the waistband from where Mr. Novak gripped it. To his complete
humiliation his freakin’ come is not only sticky against his legs and underwear
but he left a small puddle on the classroom floor. Dean is still high on his
orgasm when he is pushed to the floor by a firm hand on the back of his neck.
Blinking he tried to gather why he is now knelt down on the floor. Looking up
he stared at where Mr. Novak is standing over him, a smug grin on his face. “Do
you see the mess you made?” The man cooed. In those dark blue eyes there is a
satisfied glint. He can’t place why.
“I... I’m sorry,” Dean stumbled over his apology as his face heated up. “I
didn’t mean to- to---”
“You did not mean to leave come on my floor?” His teacher finished and raised
an eyebrow that make him shudder. Reaching out a hand Mr. Novak ran his fingers
through Dean’s hair. The action is a gentle one, soothing him in ways he did
not even realize he needed. “You are a good boy though. Can you clean it for
me, sweetheart?”
Heart jumping in his chest Dean nodded enthusiastically. ‘Course he would. He
wants to please Mr. Novak, wants to feel his praise again. Without further
instruction he stripped off his band tshirt and bent further down to clean the
floor. Right before he could, though, the shirt is taken from him. Shit.
“No,” Mr. Novak snapped. Dean’s shirt is thrown aside and the next thing he
knows his ass is being smacked. It fucking stung. The blows keep going one
after the other. In the background he can hear the crack of his hand. “You
don’t get to use a shirt. You. Were. Bad.” He pronounced each word with another
hit. Neither of his cheeks are spared.
At this point he is whining, hating the pain-pleasure of the sting. A few
minutes later the smacks start leveling off and his face is shoved against the
small pile of come. Swallowing hard Dean slowly stuck out his tongue and let
the first drop past his lips. It shouldn’t taste so good. It’s a salty flavor
more then anything. Though it’s probably not the taste that makes Dean groan as
he bent his head and started to lap at the come. More so then anything it’s how
hot it is to be forced to the floor like this. Mr. Novak is making him clean up
his own come with his fucking tongue.
“Such a pretty slut. What would your friends think, Dean? If they could see you
right now?” His teacher purred. A hand gripped hard in his hair, digging into
each strand roughly and pushing him down further on the floor. “But this is
where you belong my sweet boy.”
The position he’s in is more then uncomfortable, being bent over the floor in
only a pair of soaked panties. Against his thighs and cock the satin material
is heavy. Shit he can’t believe he ruined one of his favorite pairs. There’s
even a breeze through a hole in them where his teacher fingered him through the
underwear too roughly. Dean is about halfway through cleaning up the come when
he feels two hands grip his ass. Opening his mouth to speak is weird with the
come smeared across his lips but he manages. “Wha-what are you doing?” He
questioned in embarrassment. The back of his neck burned a bright red. He can
hear his heart slamming hard in his ears.
Wet. It’s wet and sudden. Mr. Novak’s tongue began to lick along his entrance,
then another long strip that left him gasping. The sound of being eaten out is
just far too damn loud in the quiet of the room. Dean can feel the flat press
of his tongue to his hole and, oh fuck. It’s so obscene and dirty and he can’t
help but love it. Arching back his ass gets him nothing more then a quick smack
that has him howling. “Shit Mr. Novak, please,” he begged. What it’s for he’s
not real sure, just that he has to have more. He has to feel his teacher’s
tongue buried so deep inside him that it makes his cock hard. He needed to be
fucked, and if all he was going to get was a tongue then he didn’t care.
Dean’s cheeks are spread apart so far that he can feel the chill of the air
conditioner across his skin. There’s the hot burn from Mr. Novak’s stubble
because now he is going at it and his tongue is damn quick. Letting out a pant
he can feel his entire body vibrating with pure need. Chest flushed hot Dean
can only groan at the pressure building low in his stomach. His teacher sucked
and lapped at his hole, digging his nails in to the skin so hard he nearly
screamed.
“Does it feel good? Being opened up for my cock?” Mr. Novak breathed in his
ear, and before he can say anything teeth are dragged down the shell of his
ear. Dean can feel the skin turning pink. “Answer me, boy,” he growled out.
A whimper is dragged out of him when he can feel his teacher’s tongue again.
“I- yes sir,” Dean choked out, having a hard time forming a coherent sentence
when it felt like his brains were being sucked out through his ass. Though he’s
still soft from earlier the effects of being tongue fucked like this are
everywhere-- from his shaking hands to how much his thighs tremble.
Small gasps and moans are pulled out of Dean. His heart continues to slam
faster and faster as Mr. Novak makes him fall apart. The tongue licking at his
hole is relentless and fast. “Fuck,” he gasped. Breath catching in his throat
he can hardly even hold his position, bent down on the floor with his ass high
in the air. And then all of a sudden he’s empty. Dean whined in frustration,
pushing his ass back. “Sir,” he cried out. His face is flushed and he quivers,
needing the burn of his teacher’s stubble and the hot wetness of his tongue.
Mr. Novak blew a breath of warm air over his hole that made him shudder. “Just
a minute sweetheart...” One finger pushes in between Dean’s cheeks and it’s
embarrassing how medical his teacher is about it. “I’m making sure you are open
enough,” he hummed as he continues to probe the teen with another finger. The
sensation nearly makes him go limp and he spreads his knees further.
“Oh fuck please Mr. Novak,” Dean gasped in desperation. His hole is slick from
Mr. Novak’s tongue and by now his cock is starting to swell again. Every
sensation is only made worse by those long fingers. Squeezing his eyes shut
tight he tried not to think about his next words. Because they were dirty as
hell. “I- I don’t need to be opened up that much,” he said quickly as he ducked
his head in shame. “Me an- and Aaron-”
It’s like a switch flipped on his teacher. Before he can even finish his
sentence he is being gripped by the back of his neck and hair, yanked up from
the floor in one rough motion. “How often do you get fucked?” Mr. Novak
demanded. His eyes were dark, black bleeding through the blue. Around him
Dean’s vision blurred as he was, literally, picked up. He focused on his
teacher as he stormed over to the desk with him pushing everything off his desk
in one sweep. Around him he could hear the sound of papers falling to the floor
and the crash of textbooks. There was glass shattering as Mr. Novak’s coffee
spilled.
Why his teacher had gotten so pissed off was beyond Dean. They were just
fucking weren’t they? Once this was over everything would go back to how it
used to be. Instead Mr. Novak was full of rage. “I’m the only one who gets to
have you,” he snarled in Dean’s ear. Mr. Novak’s hard cock is grinding against
his ass. With a whine he went pliant as he was manhandled on the desk. The
panties he wore are literally ripped in half and thrown aside.
Oh, oh fuck. Well he never thought Mr. Novak would be such a possessive mother
fucker. ‘Specially since this was just a one time thing. Slick from his
teacher’s tongue and his fingers Dean didn’t even feel the burn when he pushed
in. Without warning Mr. Novak snapped his hips starting to fuck into him
roughly. There was a muscular forearm wrapped around his throat; the pressure
enough to make him keen in submission but not enough to choke him.
“I am going to make you forget this Aaron even existed,” Mr. Novak promised
darkly in his ear and it’s a promise that curled Dean’s toes and made him
shiver. Never before had he been more certain of anything. “And if he... he
disappeared,” the older man continued as he thrust into him so hard the desk
squeaked, “I would make sure you did not even care.”
It was a weird form of dirty talk. Though Dean was so high on the fucking
pleasure and sparks he didn’t even care. Cock heavy between his thighs he can
barely even manage to think as Mr. Novak hits a spot inside that has him
whining. They can’t even see each other like this, with him laying flat on his
stomach sprawled over the desk and his teacher behind him slamming in. Instead
of being romantic or some shit it just felt like he is owned. The arm around
his neck tightened as Mr. Novak’s thrusts become more and more frantic.
Being filled like this is freakin’ awesome. Without the cock in him he felt
empty and needy, desperate in a way he couldn’t even describe. Now Dean was
complete. A loud moan fell from his lips as he tried to fuck himself back on
the cock. Immediately there’s a hand gripping tight in his hair along with the
arm wrapped around his neck. It pulled the hair so tight that he tears burn in
his eyes. Though in a fucked up way he liked it, liked the pain. Maybe that was
why his balls were drawn up tight and swollen as hell.
“Do you need me that much, Dean? Where you can’t even sit still and you squirm
on my cock?” Mr. Novak questioned in that deep voice of his, so close that he
could feel stubble tickling the back of his neck. With a growl he pulled out
before slamming back into him again. The pressure built in his thighs with
every long, deep thrust.
Vision blurring Dean screamed out, or tried to. Instead a hand clamped over his
mouth muffling how he howled. “I do, I need you so much. Fuck,” he groaned.
With the hand over his mouth the words were barely audible.
“Shhh boy. You don’t want everyone to find out what a whore you are, do you?
Getting fucked by your teacher over his desk,” Mr. Novak chuckled and his hips
stuttered, before he stopped completely. “Tell me you will not scream,” he
demanded as he began to move again. Every slow thrust was torture.
Face flushed a pretty, frantic shade of pink he could only throw back his head
and moan. Like this he couldn’t come. All he could do was depend on his teacher
and hope he would fuck him harder. 
And then with the tedious drags of Mr. Novak’s cock an idea came to Dean.
“C’mon Mr. Novak,” he moaned, which wasn’t real difficult considering how
turned on he was. “Aaron fucked me harder then this last night. I could hardly
walk after him,” he told with a wicked grin. Something inside him screamed
about how stupid of an idea it was, pissing off his teacher, but he didn’t
care.
A sharp intake of breath. Not even five seconds later Mr. Novak was plowing
into him, shoving his cock deep into his hole. The arm moved from his throat,
instead his teacher gripped his hips on either side rough enough to leave black
and blue bruises. In the quiet of the room he could hear the sound of the desk
slamming hard against the wall and his teacher’s grunts.
Dean’s head spun and he let out a shaky gasp. Blood pumped through his veins
faster and faster as he panted. “Th-that all you got sir? Ah. Aa-aron still
fucked me better,” he managed to get out. Over his shoulder he tried to give
his teacher a shit eating grin.
There was a snarl. “I am going to split you open on my cock, you little brat,”
Mr. Novak breathed.Grunt. Thrust. Grunt.
Oh. Dean was so fucking close now. Warmth spread up the tops of his thighs, and
he felt all the tension in his body build and build. He was edging right on
that high. If he could only-- “Can you,” Dean panted, “fuck me that good, old
man?”
And that’s it. Mr. Novak is fucking gone. In the same second that he pulled out
he turned Dean to face him or fucking yanked him really. His teacher hooked his
arms around Dean’s thighs bringing them impossibly close. Balls slap against
his ass and a hard cock filled him. His legs are spread wide. Mr. Novak is
fucking into him relentlessly, pulling his orgasm out of him with brutal
thrusts. When his vision blurred he knew he was going to spill all over this
god damn desk. He could feel it in the heat of his stomach. Electricity charged
his skin. A shudder ran through his body. He was gonna--
“No,” Mr. Novak growled, taking hold of his cock. “You do not deserve to.”
Though his teacher was, cock hot inside him as he filled and filled Dean. It
felt like five solid minutes that he was thoroughly claimed and made wet with
Mr. Novak’s come. Fuck did he like that. Though he didn’t like being stopped.
About ready to open up his mouth to complain, maybe whine ‘cause this shit
wasn’t fair he was cut off when teeth clamped down sinking into his skin.
Mother fucker. That had to be the second time the older man had bit him. Except
this time it hurt even worse, he could feel the mark throbbing. No- bleeding.
He was literally bleeding from the bite. Tears pricked at the corner of his
eyes and his cry was of course covered by Mr. Novak’s hand.
“Good boy,” he cooed. A finger was pressed to the wound and Mr. Novak smeared
his lips with blood. Then to his complete surprise his teacher sucked his blood
from his own finger. Those blue eyes were swallowed by dark black pupils and
his upper lip was curled up in a smirk. “Mmmh. That was such a good, sweet
boy,” he praised before running his fingers through Dean’s hair.
It was real fucking scary how much those words consumed Dean. All he knew was
that no matter what, he had to hear it again.
===============================================================================
Life was shit for Aaron Bass. Not only did he have to hide the fact he was gay
from his hardcore religious parents, but they were constantly harassing him to
accept the responsibility that would come with being a Rabbi when he graduated
high school. This week though he was free to do whatever he wanted because his
family was out of town on some important Jewish thing. And so he had. Aaron had
a crush on Dean Winchester for years. He knew the kid was queer himself, knew
that the sixteen year old boy had no problem hitting on boys as often as he had
girls. Last night he met with Dean after practice and fucked him in the teen’s
car, a ‘67 Chevy Impala.
Every time he thought back on it he felt wrong and sinful, though also so good.
The tight heat around him when he fucked the boy... it was like a vice around
his dick. And he could never forget how beautiful Dean was either. How his
eyelashes fluttered when he thrust into him particularly hard, and the way his
pretty green eyes glinted. It had been the ultimate fuck you to his parents.
Even if they... didn’t know about it.
Now it was the next day, the following evening, and Aaron was still thinking
back on the night as he sat in his living room. About half an hour ago he had
ordered a pizza, so now he was just waiting on that as he flipped through
different shows on his TV. Nothing seemed interesting. He just wished he could
see Dean again. Maybe he could call him... No. It was too soon. He didn’t want
to come across as a love struck idiot.
Just then the doorbell rang. Oh yeah, that was probably the pizza. Aaron tossed
the remote on the couch and stood up. He still found himself thinking of Dean
again as he walked to his front door. Man, this crush was getting out of hand.
He couldn’t help it though. He just liked the younger boy so much. Since he was
a senior he had even thought of inviting him to prom. If only his family hadn’t
signed up as some of the supervisors.
Shaking his head he pulled out a twenty from his wallet and opened the door.
“Hey dude, it’ll be fifteen right?” He asked with a smile.
Dark blue eyes looked back at him. Oh, hey. It was his old English teacher.
Aaron blinked in surprise. “Mr. Novak, you deliver pizza too?” He asked. He
started to go for his wallet again. After all, if the poor older man had to
deal with being a pizza boy on top of teenagers all day he deserved a tip.
“Oh no,” Mr. Novak answered casually. Though his tone... the way he was
standing, there was something creepy about it. And come to think of it, but he
didn’t even think the guy had blinked yet. Weird.
Aaron was feeling a little uneasy. Though that was crazy. Why would a school
teacher creep him out? “No... so you uh, you don’t deliver pizza...?” He
trailed off, his voice hesitant as he looked back at the man.
His old teacher flashed a face full of teeth. Yeah, something was definitely
wrong now. Aaron was starting to freak out. Something was seriously wrong with
this guy. “Uh, Mr. Novak. I’m just gonna... give you the money now okay?” He
said with caution. All of a sudden a hand grabbed out at him, and the next
thing he knew he was being thrown hard to the floor. The pain shot up his side
and his heart slammed frantically in his chest.
Mr. Novak was laughing. A wicked, full body laugh as he towered over him. His
eyes were shining now with clear insanity. “This is going to be so much fun,”
he chuckled. Oh god, oh god. Aaron was beyond freaking out. What the hell was
going on? And shit, but his back hurt...
“I liked you, you were such a good student Mr. Bass,” The asshole said with
glee. “But you did something very, very bad,” he sang as he stepped closer to
him and swung out his leg, kicking him hard between the ribs. Aaron screamed
from the pure agony. It hurt so much he felt dizzy.
“Ohhh Mr. Bass does mommy and daddy know you like cock?” Mr. Novak sneered, his
face twisted into something nasty. Every word was said in a sing song tone that
chilled him to the bone.
Swallowing hard Aaron stared up in shock at the man. “Ho-how d-do you know
that?” He stuttered.
Mr. Novak hummed pulling a large, sharp knife out of nowhere that he looked at
with a disgusting fondness. He licked the blade with his tongue. “Because you
took something of mine,” he answered finally as he began to approach him with
the knife. “And now,” he sang, “I am going to take something from you.”
Heart thumping hard in his chest Aaron watched horrified as the delirious man
bent down. Their faces were only inches apart. The cool of the knife touched
his stomach and something inside of him went cold. All he could do was accept
that, that he... he was going to die. “What did I ever do to you?” He
questioned desperately.
A pause. “You touched Dean Winchester.”
===============================================================================
 
 
 
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