Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/911329.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Shota_Castiel, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-04 Words: 1600
****** Playing Innocent ******
by BrandiChampane
Summary
     Shota!Cas fic.
Dean waits in the kitchen, Castiel will be home from school soon and he should
be making lunch. Instead, he is trying to finish an English paper on folklore.
He is working on the citations when the doorbell rings, Cas is home and he
still needs to make lunch for them both. Dean unceremoniously tosses his pen
onto his notebook and pushes away from his chair. He will have to finish his
citations later tonight he supposes.
Cas continues to push the button, sending an echo of dings through Dean’s small
living room. Dean grumbles to himself and pulls the door open to be met by a
pair of soft, blue eyes. Castiel is in one of his outfits today, a cat sweater
with a pan collar and a short, ruffled shirt. Cas must have changed in the
schools bathroom because his thigh highs are twisted, the pattern wrinkled. One
hangs low against his boot, he tries to pull it up only to have it slide down
again. Dean widens the door and ushers him in.
“Hey big boy.” After the door is shut, Dean leans in and kisses him on the
cheek; Cas’ cheeks are rosy when he steps back.
Dean has always admired the way his boy can turn into something so sweet and
innocent when they both know otherwise. Castiel will blush and duck his head
when Dean is watching. Other times he will sit and bite on his thumb, looking
like the epitome of purity. At first, Dean hated the idea of Castiel being so
childlike, even if the boy is still in high school, but it grew on him like
fungus. One day, he is pulling the boys thumb out of his mouth, the next he is
fucking him from behind, trying to shove it back in. He is ashamed, but when
Cas pouts his kiss bitten lips, eyes staring into his soul, he feels like he
definitely cannot be blamed.
Castiel ducks his head and drops his backpack by the door. He kneels on the
carpet and unties his laces, tucking his shoes beside his bag. Dean watches,
taking in the way the thigh highs snug his runner thighs so perfectly. Castiel
is so slim; strangers could mistake him for a girl, Dean thinks. Then again, he
does not want strangers thinking about his Cas period, it is better Cas only
wears his outfits for Dean. Castiel gets a grip on his stocking and pulls it up
his calf, Dean’s eyes tracing the whole move. Castiel makes ignorance an art
form in small ways, teasing Dean with something as simple as fixing a sock.
Dean smiles at Cas’ turned back and moves to the kitchen to try and fix
something for lunch. Castiel pads into the kitchen while he is retrieving the
bread, set to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He can hear Castiel’s
pout and huff of annoyance behind him, chuckling to himself. Slender arms wrap
around his waist, Castiel’s head resting in the dip of his spine. Castiel huffs
again, this time vibrating against Dean, something he cannot ignore.
“Something the matter, baby?”
“You didn’t have lunch ready.”
“I know, I had work to do.” He points to his notebook and laptop, still open to
his citation page.
Castiel stands on his tiptoes and kisses Dean’s cheek. “I’m sorry, I should
have known.” He pulls the knife from Dean’s hand and pushes him away with his
small hip. ‘Let me.” Dean relinquishes his grip and lets Castiel make them
sandwiches.
The process is slow and torturous, Castiel licking and sucking at his fingers
every time he gets peanut butter on them. The noises he makes are sinful, while
his eyes remain there childlike charm. Dean has to grip the arm of the chairs
to keep from pulling him in his lap and fucking him raw. Finally, Castiel cuts
both of their crusts off, tossing them in the trash, and sets a sandwich in
front of Dean, sitting down with his own. Dean is too engorged in his sandwich
that he misses the way Castiel whimpers and shifts uncomfortably when he sits.
Castiel’s constant shifting in his seat distracts Dean from his sandwich,
eventually he has to set it down to see what is wrong. Castiel is changing the
angle he is sitting at, trying to find a position that is comfortable. While
Castiel crosses and uncrosses his legs, dramatically is Dean has anything to
see about it, Dean can catch the flash of pink, lace, panties. The thought of
his baby boy walking into a woman’s clothing store, walking around the racks of
underpants until he find that one perfect pair, Dean cannot hold back, not
anymore.
Dean pulls the sandwich from Castiel’s hand, tossing it on his notebook, and
pulls Castiel into his lap. Castiel whimpers and shifts his hips, grinding down
on Dean. Dean swallows a moan and pushes Castiel’s skirt up his thighs, Castiel
prefers to keep it on when they do this. Castiel’s breath skirts over Dean’s
neck and he begins biting at the skin, small amount of pressure, just enough to
get Dean moving. Dean lifts Castiel until he can get a hand underneath and move
the lace to the side as he tries to tease at Castiel’s hole and is surprised
when he meets something hard. He pulls Castiel back so he can make eye contact
with him.
“You got yourself all plugged up, baby?”
Castiel plays with the hem of his skirt, still pulled up his thighs, ducking
his head. He nods, and when Dean lifts his chin, Castiel’s face has a dark
flush to it. This is new for them, they thought about it, but he never thought
his boy would do it. The thought of him sitting in his room before school,
working himself open and slipping a plug in, all while catching the bus to
school is enough to make Dean come in his pants like a teenager. Dean’s fingers
grip into Castiel’s boney shoulders as he tries to calm himself.
“Got yourself all ready for me,” his voice is rugged now. Castiel nods again
and kisses him, sloppy and wet, they way he does when they play this game. Dean
groans and bucks his hips, grinding against Cas, who whines and moans.
Dean pulls the lace to the side with one hand and wiggles the plug with the
other. Castiel moans again, small hands clinging to Dean’s shoulder blades.
Dean slides the plug, leaving the tip in before pushing it back in. Castiel
moans again, voice high, Dean admires him for keeping up the rouse even as he
teases him. Dean pulls the plug free and lets it roll on an empty chair.
Castiel whimpers again, grinding into Dean’s lap for some sort of contact.
Dean slides a finger in, earning him a new moan, Castiel is loose enough for
him to slide a second one in easy. Castiel bucks in his lap and works himself
on Dean’s fingers. He can feel the clench around them as Castiel grinds onto
them. Castiel breathes heavy against Dean’s neck, breathing out more and please
between moans. Dean lets him unbuckle his belt and slides his Jeans down his
thighs until they are resting at his ankles. He pushes in a third finger,
wanting to make sure his boy is thoroughly prepped before slamming into him.
Castiel is begging for it though, whispering about wanting it all day, since he
woke up and slipped the plug in. Dean groans and pulls his fingers free.
Dean gets a grip under Castiel’s thighs, once he is lubed, lifting him, before
letting him sink onto his cock. Cas moans and wiggles his hips until he’s
sitting comfortably on Dean’s lap. Dean starts the rhythm, holding Castiel’s
hips while he grinds into slowly, not wanting to hurt his baby boy. Castiel
tosses his head back and bites his lip, holding back his moans. Dean wants to
hear him so he thrusts in harder, hitting his sweet spot and Cas nearly
screams, nails biting into Dean’s shoulders. Dean grunts and moans along with
him, thrust after thrust.
Castiel’s hand finally releases its purchase, wrapping around himself, thumb
stroking over the head through lace, but Dean’s not having it.
“If you’re such a slut for my cock, you’re gonna come from it alone, you hear
me.” Castiel whines, pulling his hand away and nodding furiously.
Castiel returns his hold on Dean’s shoulders as Dean picks up pace, thrusting
in harder now. Castiel whines and begs for release, just a stroke to tip him
over the edge, but Dean does not give in. Instead, he shifts his hips and
pounds into Castiel’s sweet spot over and over, relentlessly. Castiel arches
and moans, practically screaming as he holds onto Dean like an anchor. Dean’s
close, knows he will not last long, but Cas still has to come and he takes care
of his baby. He bites his lip and tries to keep his own completion at bay,
working Cas until he finally cries out and spills over his lace, come seeping
into the fabric. Dean finally lets go and comes, riding Cas through his orgasm.

Cas slumps against him, breathless. He kisses Dean’s neck, his cheek, up to his
lips. He licks at them until Dean opens up, kissing him until they are both
panting. Castiel slides off Dean’s lap and fixes his skirt, smoothing out the
wrinkles. Dean buttons his pants and spots his notebook.
“Guess that won’t do me good anymore,” he says, peeling Castiel’s sandwich from
the page.
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