Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2182320.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester, John_Winchester/Mary_Winchester, minor_dean/lisa
      but_not_really
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Castiel, Sam_Winchester, Adam_Winchester, John
      Winchester, Mary_Winchester, Benny_Lafitte, Charlie_Bradbury, Lisa
      Braeden
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Implied/Referenced_Incest, Angst, Mutual_Pining, Porn_with
      Feelings
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-08-22 Words: 15711
****** Uncle Cas ******
by Lusciousinpain
Summary
     No, what Dean wants, what he craves and has always needed is someone
     that will take the time to tear and break him apart with their hands
     and mouth and then care enough to put him back together with a warm
     caress, or a loving word.
     Just like uncle Cas.
Notes
     I set out to write a short fluffy-heavily-porn-laced tale of a
     lecherous uncle and his nympho nephew. But alas, it turned angsty,
     then porny, then confrontational, with lots more porn.
     Please let me know if I done good! And, thanks for reading!!!
     Oh, and FYI, if you're interested in the porno Dean's jacking off to,
     The Head Nurse, well have I got a treat for you!
See the end of the work for more notes
The incessant ringing of their bedroom telephone startles John and Mary
Winchester awake from their deep slumber.
Mary reaches for the phone, feeling for it blindly, she knocks over the book
she was reading and her children’s picture frame. “Hello.” She answers, finally
silencing the obnoxious blare, voice a sleepy croak, eyes still closed, body
cocooned in warmth. “M-hum…yes.” she mutters, more alert now. “Yes, I will.
No…right away…me too.” She ends the call and sets the phone back in its cradle.
“What is it?” John asks, pulling his wife back under the covers, tone worried,
dreading the news -Because let's face it, no one ever calls with good news at
one in the morning.
Mary sits up instead and turns to face her husband, bottom lip caught between
her teeth, large green eyes full of sorrow. “It’s your father, sweetheart, he’s
had a stroke.”
…
“John, calm down. Here, let me do that.” Mary says, tone soothing, gently
prying the handful of underwear he’d been trying to pack from his tight grip.
He struggles with them a moment longer, a halfhearted attempt to fold them
neatly into his suitcase, before giving up and crawling back to bed. “Thanks,
baby.” He sighs, shoulders shaking from the stress, head cradled in his hands.
“Fuck, Mary,” he says a minute later. “Who are we going to get to watch the
kids at-” he looks over to the clock on his nightstand. “One-thirty in the
goddamn morning?”
Mary pauses in her packing and considers his question for a moment. “My
brother?” she answers hopefully.
Of course, Castiel. Mary misses her brother terribly and sees this as the
perfect, although unfortunate, opportunity to reunite her wayward brother with
her family, his family.
“That flake? Hell no!”
“John, please, you’re being unfair. Cas-“
“I know!” John cries, snapping his fingers, then jumps off the bed and reaches
for his smart phone. He does a quick scroll through his listings and fist pumps
the air when he finds the contact he's after. “Naomi, yesss.”
“Naomi, from down the street? You seriously want that drill sergeant to watch
our children, John. Did you forget how much Dean dislikes her?”
“Now who’s being unfair?” he asks. “And she’s not a drill sergeant. She’s just
a little…overzealous when it comes to doling out discipline.”
Mary’s brows shoot up in disbelief. “Overzealous? Is that what you’re calling
it?” she challenges, voice rising, hands planted on her rounded hips, huffing
irritably when all she gets from her bull-headed husband is a smirk and a half
shrug. “Making Dean read the bible from cover to cover, out loud, when he
refused to let her punish Sam is tantamount to child abuse, John.” She argues.
“She traumatized both of them, Adam too, the poor little thing.”
“Okay, okay.” John relents. “I won’t call her. She’s out. But that still leaves
us without a sitter. Oh, wait!” he blurts, snapping his fingers again. “I know.
How about, Chuck?”
“Hmpft, no.”
“What, why?”
“John, you can’t honestly think I would leave my children in the care of that
alcoholic.”
“Recovering alcoholic.” He corrects.
“No.”
After another long pause, John fists pumps the air again. “Missouri! I know you
like her and the kids love her. So, problem solved.” He dials her number,
confident she won’t mind the hour when he gives her his reasons for bothering
so late.
“Hi, Missouri, it’s John Winchester, I’m sorry to bother you but we have a real
emergency here…oh, Florida?” he turns wounded eyes towards his wife and sighs
tiredly. “I know…me too. No, no. Please…okay, you too.”
John drops gracelessly back onto their bed and groans. “Damn it, she's in
Florida.”
Mary doesn’t show it, but she’s relieved that their dear friend won’t be
available. “Oh honey, that’s too bad.” She says with all the sincerity she can
muster. “Hate to say it, but it looks like we don’t have much of a choice.”
John cracks an eye open and scowls at his wife.
“John,” Mary huffs. “He’s not the same man he was seven years ago,
he’s…matured.”
“Matured? That’s your definition of a twenty-seven year old that’s still
jobless. That for all we know still parties, drinks and smokes like it’s his
career?” he counters. “You forget how attached Dean got to him the last time he
stayed with us? How Castiel promised to visit all the time, attend all of his
games. He even made plans to take Dean camping and then he just picked up a
left? Dropped off the face of the earth. Our son was inconsolable, Mary.” It's
an old argument between them, and John's not above bringing it back up. “You
just don’t do that to a twelve year old.”
“I agree with everything you’ve said, John. I was just as upset as you are, but
he’s changed and wants to make amends, especially to Dean.”
“What, with a bunch of useless trinkets from his trip to Tibet? Hmph,” he
snorts. “Gotta do better than that if he really wants to get back in my good
graces, let alone Dean’s. Why, as soon as my boy realized all that junk was
from your brother, he chucked it.”
Mary climbs on the bed and settles against her husband’s side. “Come on honey,
Castiel is family and he’s also only an hour away.” she leans closer and places
a small kiss on his temple. “’Want me to make the call?”
John props himself up on his elbows and regards his wife for a moment, eyes
darting around for an alternative. “Fine, call uncle Cas. Doesn’t really matter
anyway, I’m sure Dean will insist on taking care of Sammy and Adam himself. Our
boy is one stubborn-as-hell seventeen year old.” He huffs, amused and more than
a little impressed by his oldest son. “So I guess all we really need your
brother for is to make sure the house doesn’t burn down.” He notes, then adds,
“What could go wrong?”
…
Dean’s still wide awake when his parents learn of his grandfather’s stroke.
He’s surfing the web and arguing good-naturedly, via text, with a few of his
buddies over their weekend plans, intermittently pausing in his searches to
shoot off replies when his eyes land on one of his favorite porn sites.
Dean: im chkng out asshls. Nite.
Impatiently palming at his growing erection and way too distracted to read his
friends’ varying retorts, Dean grabs his laptop and relocates to his bed.
With his back propped against the headboard, Dean eases his threadbare sweats
off his hips, wraps one hand around his rapidly hardening dick and scrolls with
the other through an assortment of free porn, finally clicking ‘play’ on his
current favorite, ‘The Head Nurse’.
“Fucking jackpot.” The teen whispers gleefully, placing his laptop carefully
between his spread knees and leaning over the edge of his bed for the bottle of
lube he keeps tucked under his mattress. He squeezes a generous amount in both
hands and begins stroking himself.
He starts slow, rhythm languid, unhurried, a sensuous drag and pull, teasing
the head with one hand while fondling his balls with the other. “Umpht…” he
groans, hips jerking into his fist, fingers dipping from his balls to his
crevice, eyes glued to the video, mirroring the Nurse as he meticulously preps
his patient’s hole, loosening it with skillful fingers.
‘How does that feel?’ Porno Nurse asks his patient, grinning wickedly while he
scissors his patient’s pink puffy pucker with lube coated fingers.
‘Jee-zus!’ The patient cries and bucks, hips squirming in pleasure, bare ass
crinkling and bunching the exam table’s roll-out paper.
Dean moans too, mouth slack, eyes half-cast, dick thrusting steadily into the
loose tunnel of his fingers, biting down hard on his lip when he inserts a
slicked digit into his hole, pace quickening, pumping furiously in time with
the Nurse’s rhythm.
“Fuck-“ he gasps, almost there when Porno Nurse wraps his sinful lips, lips
that magically take on the pink plushness of Dean’s long ago crush, around his
patient’s rigid shaft.
“Ahhh…” Dean moans, on the brink, watching Porno Nurse bob his head up and down
while his patient tangles needy fingers through his dark messy hair, hair that
painfully resembles a past beloved’s unruly locks.
But it’s when Porno Nurse deftly replaces his pumping fingers with his massive
cock and then proceeds to ram it mercilessly into his patient’s ass, filling
Dean’s room with the pornographic sounds of skin slapping wetly against skin,
that Dean tumbles over the edge and cums, eyes rolling back, mouth open in a
silent cry.
…
Fifteen minutes later, and after a perfunctory clean up, Dean’s snuggled under
a mountain of blankets, thoroughly satisfied, sleepy, and for the most part,
happy. Or at least that’s what he tells himself, unable to stop the heavy
weight of insecurity, tangled with a healthy dose of self-loathing that coils
itself tightly around his heart every time he invites images of his uncle,
Castiel, into his fantasies.
“Fucker!” he curses, throwing his arm over his face, pushing back a multitude
of gut wrenching memories that threaten to overtake him at vulnerable moments
like these, tugging open old wounds, confounding his muddled mind, tearing at
his heart.
A soft knock on his door saves him from spiraling down further.
“Dean? Son, are you awake?” John asks softly, cracking the door open and inch,
waiting for his son to respond.
“Sure, dad. What’s up?” Dean answers, more than a little impressed with the
steadiness of his voice.
John steps in, but doesn’t close the door. He stares down at his feet for a
beat before looking over to his son and says, “Dean, I’ve got some terrible
news. Your grandpa, Henry, had a stroke. He’s stable now, though.” He quickly
adds. “But your mom and I are leaving in a little bit to go see him. Make sure
he’s okay.”
“Geesh, dad, I’m sorry. And don’t worry about anything, I’ll hold down the
fort.” Dean hops out of bed and rushes to his father, opening his arms to wrap
them around his father’s grief slumped shoulders.
“I know you will, son, but, ah, you won’t have to, your uncle Castiel is on his
way. Your mother called him a short while ago and he agreed to stay with you
boys until we return-“ John explains, the words coming out like an apology.
“What? No!” Dean immediately protests. “We don’t need that douche here! Why’d
mom call him?” he whines.
“I know, trust me, I understand how you feel.” John insists, resting his large
hand on his son’s shoulder. “But it’ll only be for a couple of days. And
besides, it’s not fair to leave Sam and Adam’s welfare solely on your
shoulders, son. You have your own schoolwork and sports, your friends and your
life to live, Dean. Castiel will just be here as a…back up for you.” he
clarifies, patting Dean on the shoulder and giving it one last squeeze before
turning to leave.
“Don’t worry too much over it, Dean. This is your house and you’re the boss
here. You set the rules, okay. You show Castiel you’re not some little kid he
can boss around anymore.” He offers encouragingly, adding a wink and small
smile, before walking out the door.
“No!” Dean cries out once his father’s out of earshot. He goes back to his bed,
flops heavily onto its soft surface and reaches out for an armful of pillows to
stifle his screams.
I can’t believe he’s coming back!
John says he understands, but how can he? It’s taken Dean the better part of
five years to get past the heartache of his first doomed crush. His first love.
How could his father possibly understand that five years is barely enough time
for a young boy to accept the fact that his love will forever remain
unrequited?
That it took Dean that long to learn how to function with a broken heart,
always walking around pretending that he’s whole, optimistic and healthy,
coming to terms with the fact that hisdear old uncle Cas will never feel for
him, what he feels for the older man.
“Fuck my life.” He groans into his pillows. “Not this time, though.” He vows.
“This fucker isn’t fucking me over again. No fucking way.” he hisses, swearing
aloud, pummeling his pillows with a barrage of fists as he braces for Castiel’s
arrival.
…
“John, Mary, it’s so good to see you.” Castiel says in a quiet voice, putting
his bag down in the Winchester foyer and reaching out to pat his brother-in-law
on the shoulder. “John, I’m so sorry about your father.”
“Hey there, Cas. Thanks.” John replies, leaning into the younger man’s hand and
giving him a thorough once-over. “And thanks for coming on short notice. We,
ah, really appreciate it.”
“Please, it’s no problem.” Castiel insists stepping around John to wrap his
sister in a tight embrace. “Mary, I’ve missed you.” he sighs into her soft
blonde hair.
The siblings hold onto each other tightly, rocking in each other’s arms for a
long moment before pulling apart. “You haven’t changed one bit.” Castiel beams
at her.
Mary takes a step back to appraise her younger brother, and nodding
approvingly, says, “Cassie, honey, you have changed. You look so handsome, and
well, honestly…respectable.” She confides, holding him at arm’s length and
smiling widely.
“You really do.” John reluctantly agrees, referring to Castiel’s white button-
up and dark slacks, easily preferring this ensemble over his past uniform of
torn jeans and band t-shirts. Impressed that his brother-in-law has finally
managed to tame the dark tangled mess that was once his hair and not even
faulting the younger man for the heavy layer of stubble dotting his jaw. It’s
not like the kid was going to shave before coming over, he reasons.
Castiel drops his eyes, blushing from their praise. “Heh, um, thanks. I’m
really glad you called. I just wish it was under different circumstances, of
course.” He immediately adds, glancing towards John. He looks over to Mary,
blue eyes wide and nervous. “Does Dean…ah, I mean, do Sam and Adam, the boys, I
mean, do they know I’m going to be staying with them?” he stammers and coughs,
voice deep and husky.
“Dean does, I told him a little while ago.” John answers. “I didn’t tell Sammy
or Adam, though, didn’t want to wake them, as much as Mary wanted to. Never be
able to get them back down if we did.” He clarifies, laughing fondly. “Well,”
he turns to his wife. “We better get going. And, thanks again, Cas.”
“I spoke with Dean too, Cassie, and he’s really happy you’re here.” Mary lies.
“And I’m sure Sam and Adam will be just as excited.“ She reaches out, throws
her arms around Castiel’s shoulders once more, and chokes back a sob. “Take
care of my babies, okay.” She weeps, pressing a small kiss against his cheek.
“There’s plenty of food in the fridge, but if you need anything, put it on our
account.”
“I’ve left all of our contact info on the kitchen counter but if you need
anything else, help with Sam or Adam, or the household, just ask Dean. He
pretty much runs the place anyway.” John adds, and with a final handshake,
grabs their bags and guides his sobbing wife out the door.
…
Dean stumbles out of bed the following morning, mind fuzzy and groggy from lack
of sleep, eyes swollen and crusty from tears he absolutely did not shed.
“Fuck, dammit.” He curses under his breath, lurching unsteadily towards his
bedroom door, remembering the reason for his aching head and his heavy eyes.
When he steps out into the hallway, he’s immediately hit with the enticing
scent of…
Bacon
“Fucking asshole.” He grouses, mumbling a litany of curses as he makes his way
to the bathroom.
He walks into the kitchen twenty minutes later, heart screeching to a fucking
halt the second his eyes land on Castiel. He doesn’t move for a long while,
actually has to brace himself against the wall to keep from swaying. He stares
at the older man, unseen and quiet, marveling at his uncle’s body, how it’s
filled out, how his long lean muscles dance under his pale blue shirt and the
way his dark trousers hug the full globes of his ass and the thick muscles of
his thighs.
“Outta the way, Dean.” Sam snaps, bumping his shoulder against Dean’s waist to
nudge him out of the kitchen’s doorway. “What’s wrong with you- uncle Cas!!!”
he screams at the top of lungs when he spots the older man.
“Oomphft! Sam!” Castiel grunts and chuckles, a deep throaty laugh that makes
Dean want to do things.
Things like throw his uncle up against the nearest wall so he can feast on each
and every gorgeous little sound he can wrench from those delectable lips.
Or perhaps run rough angry fingers through his neatly combed hair until it once
again resembles the sex-wreaked look he sported so effortlessly, all those
years ago.
But to simply have the freedom, the goddamn right, to bury his face in
Castiel’s neck, to inhale and taste the fragrant skin, and then break down and
cry over so many wasted years spent apart, that, Dean realizes, would be the
one thing he would most like to do to the man in front of him.
“What the heck are you doing here?” Sam asks, over excited, eyes alight with
joy and fondness for his uncle, mercifully snapping Dean from his painful
memories.
Castiel runs his hand affectionately over Sam’s hair, tucking a long strand
behind his ear. “Sam, I-“ he starts but then stops when he looks up and sees
Dean, blue eyes darkening the moment they lock onto his oldest nephew’s. After
a brief, but epic battle, he tears his eyes from Dean’s glare and turns back to
Sam. “Your mother and father called me last night and asked me to come and stay
with you for a few days.”
“Why?” the thirteen year old asks, brow furrowed with curiosity.
“Sammy,” Dean speaks up. “Come here buddy.”
Sam gives Castiel a questioning look and then walks towards his brother.
When he’s within arm’s reach, Dean pulls him close and hugs him tighter than
necessary, eyes drawn magnetically back to Castiel’s, smirking in satisfaction
from the fear and remorse he sees looking back.
“Dean, dude, you’re wrinkling the merchandise.” Sam complains and struggles out
of his brother’s hold.
Dean lets go and bends at the waist, and looking steadily into his younger
brother’s hazel eyes, says, “Grandpa Henry’s not well, Sammy, so mom and dad
left last night to go take care of him for a little while.”
Sam’s eyes grow large and glassy. “Will…will he be okay?” he asks in a small
scared voice, lower lip trembling.
“Of course he is. It’s grandpa Henry we’re talking about here!”
Sam sighs in relief, body visibly relaxing from the confidence in his brother’s
tone. “Whew, man, for a minute there, you had me worried.”
“Nothing to worry about, bro.” Dean assures, ruffling his younger brother’s
hair and messing it up further. “Go grab a seat while I get you some cereal.”
“Dean, Sam, I’ve made pancakes.” Castiel chimes in, voice a little too bright,
eyes focusing on Dean. He walks over to the table and sets down a plate piled
high with pancakes. “Ah, there’s bacon too.” He adds, sounding hopeful.
Dean stares at the spread, hands clenched tightly against his sides, breathing
deeply to calm the hammering of his heart before trying to speak. “No thanks,
Sammy and Adam have cereal weekdays, and-“
“Are you nuts?” Sam squeaks. “I don’t know about you, but I’m having uncle Cas’
pancakes.” He declares defiantly and much to Dean’s growing irritation reaches
out to serve himself a large stack of the warm fluffy goodness and coats it
liberally with a thick layer of gooey strawberry syrup.
“Whoa, pancakes!” a small voice next to Dean whoops happily.
“Good morning Adam.”
“Uncle Cas!” the smallest and youngest Winchester shouts in surprise, rushing
past Dean to throw himself at his dearly missed uncle. When he pulls back, he
narrows his eyes and purses his lips. “Where have you been? We missed you so
much! Me and Sammy, but especially Dean, he cried and-“
“Adam!” Dean shouts, mortified, cheeks reddening, cutting off his brother’s
painfully honest rambling. “Get your ass over here and get some breakfast. Your
bus is gonna be here soon, slow poke, and I am not driving you if you miss it!”
The eleven year old grudgingly steps away from his uncle’s side and drags his
sneaker clad feet to take the seat Dean pulls out for him.
“Eat up you two. And you better be ready by the time I get back.” Dean warns,
and turns to leave.
“Dean-“ Castiel’s arm shoots out, long fingers wrapping around Dean’s muscled
forearm. “Aren’t you eating?” he asks, voice dry and raspy, swallowing hard,
tongue poking out to swipe moisture across his lips.
Dean freezes, eyes following the slicked path of Castiel’s tongue, arm tensing
under his tight grip. “I’m not hungry.” He grits out, pinning the older man
with a venomous glare. He wrenches his arm free and staggers back, barking a
final warning to his brothers before storming out of the room.
…
Dean runs back to his bedroom, clambering up the stairs, taking three steps at
a time, desperate to put as much distance as he can between himself and his
tormentor.
He slams his door behind him, panting, hand clutching at this chest, wondering
if it’s possible for a perfectly healthy seventeen year old to die from a heart
attack, jumping out of his skin when there’s a firm knock against his back.
“Dean,” Castiel calls. “Please, open up.”
Too fucking late, douche bag! Dean thinks, but instead says, “Look, no offense,
but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t hang around my door, okay. I’ll be down in
a minute.”
“Dean…” Castiel starts, uttering his nephew’s name softly, almost a sigh. “For
what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Dean doesn’t budge, doesn’t move from his spot, barely breathes until Castiel’s
footsteps fade away, whooshing in relief once he’s sure the coast is clear.
He’s furious, offended, hurt, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. But still at
the forefront, the one thing he hasn’t been able to shake, regardless of time
or whatever fucked up things Castiel has done to him, to them, is the sad fact
that he’s still hopelessly in-love with the prick.
“Fuck me.” he chokes out, swallowing down the pain and heartache. He scrubs
roughly at his face with both hands and takes a deep breath, steeling himself
before going back down.
“Sam, Adam, get a move on!” he hollers from the relative safety of the front
door. “We’re leaving now.”
He fidgets while he waits, listening to their conversation as their mingled
voices chatter animatedly and grow increasingly louder the closer they get to
the front room.
Dean’s already holding the door open for them by the time they notice him.
“Come on!” he says, rushing them with an impatient wave of his hands.
Both boys turn and say good-bye to their uncle before racing past Dean.
“Dean,” Castiel calls to him again, jogging towards the teen before he exits.
“I-“ he begins, tone so hushed Dean can barely hear him, eyes haunted, gaze
skating over the boy’s (young man’s) features, studying the effects of time on
his adolescent face. Dear God, he’s grown more beautiful! Castiel notes with
undisguised awe.
“You what?” Dean snaps, voice booming, anger getting the better of him. “No,
wait, you know what, I don’t give a shit about whatever it is you have to say,
okay. Maybe I did five years ago, but now,” he shakes his head, deep frown
marring his handsome face. “Now, you can go to hell.” He snarls menacingly and
leaves.
…
Castiel’s devastated by Dean’s reaction, but not at all surprised. Actually, he
expected his first encounter with the young man, after so many years apart, to
end worse. So, all things considered, it wasn’t too bad.
No, not bad at all, but it was earth shattering horrible, and apocalyptically
terrible in the absolute agony it inflicted on Castiel’s already badly battered
heart.
From the moment Castiel ran off, leaving behind a confused and deeply wounded
boy, a boy he desperately wanted, in every way, his life has been one plagued
with gut-wrenching regret and crippling self-loathing.
But he had to leave, there was no way he was going to follow through with his
depraved desires, or buckle under Dean’s ‘seductions’. He refused to victimize
the boy, or to vilify himself. For Castiel, a life of perpetual torment, one
without Dean, was the only alternative.
He even believed that given the distance of time, the added number of years to
reflect and expand upon, in both mind, body and soul, that they would both grow
out of their mutual attraction and move on, find other partners, age
appropriate partners, partners not of the same family, or of the same sex.
That’s what he foolishly hoped to accomplish when he left Dean’s side, what his
main goal was when he tore himself from the boy’s blinding presence. He was so
hungry for Dean, instantly tempted by the boy’s sexual maturity, his charm and
off the charts magnetism, his outlandish cockiness and swagger, so uncommon in
the average twelve year old, but Castiel quickly learned, much to his heart’s
detriment, that there was nothing average about Dean.
He found himself in a constant struggle against his immoral attraction to the
boy and resisted him with a vehemence that only spurred Dean to try harder, to
wear Castiel down until the older man had no choice but to flee. So he ran,
taking with him only the memories of their too brief tryst, of Dean’s
enthusiastic kisses and the suppleness of his unblemished skin as it yielded
willingly, eagerly, under his greedy hands.
Dean
But this whole endeavor: his goal to save Dean and himself from the heartache
they would inevitably suffer once their sexual relationship deteriorated, seems
to have been for naught. A useless ruse, because the second his eyes landed on
Dean, he was utterly lost and found himself willing to do anything and
everything to win back the young man with whom he is still so desperately in-
love.
So heaving a heavy sigh, Castiel reaches out and closes the front door. He
turns and walks back to the kitchen, planning along the way on how to win back
Dean’s heart.
…
The rumbling of Dean’s car is the first warning Castiel gets of his nephew’s
imminent arrival. The second and the third are the successive slamming of
doors, the front door, followed closely by Dean’s bedroom.
Castiel gets up from his seat in the family living room, putting down the book
he was barely able to focus on, and rushes after him. He climbs the steps to
Dean’s bedroom, stopping just outside the closed door, hand fisted, ready to
knock, when it suddenly swings open.
Dean runs right into uncle’s body, chests colliding, arms reaching out to wrap
around waists, hands landing on hips, fingers digging into firm muscle, trying
to keep each other from falling. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean
snaps, untangling himself from Castiel and shoving him back.
Castiel stumbles, arms still clinging for purchase on Dean’s hips. “I…I wanted
to see what you and the boys want for dinner.” He stammers clumsily. “And to
find out when I have to pick Sam and Adam up from their practice.” He asks,
although he knows perfectly well, already having a detailed list of both boys’
daily schedules pasted in his phone.
“Oh, okay.” Dean replies, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice; he
had secretly hoped Castiel was specifically looking for him. “Ah, Sammy’ll be
ready around seven and you can get Adam right after that. I’ll give you their
addresses before I leave.” He informs his uncle, voice stony, expression
neutral and controlled, unable and not caring to keep the hostility from his
tone.
“You’re leaving? You’re not having dinner with us?” Castiel asks not bothering
to hide the regret from his voice. “Dean, we need to talk. I want to explain-“
“Look, don’t bother, ‘cause I ain’t buying what you’re selling.” Dean,
incensed, advances on him, spitting the words out, stepping right into
Castiel’s personal space, forehead pressed menacingly against his uncle’s. “I
didn’t want you here but I get why mom and dad did it. But it doesn’t mean I
have to like it.” he keeps pushing, forcing Castiel further back until he has
him pinned against the hallway wall.
Dean plants his hands on either side of Castiel’s trapped body, bracketing the
other man’s face, fingers spreading so that his thumbs brush against Castiel’s
jaw. “So do us both a favor and stay out of my way, and in return, I promise
not to beat your ass…” he sneers, lips curling back, eyes fluttering shut at
the mental image. “In…into next week.” he manages, exhaling a shaky breath,
crowding his slightly bulkier frame against Castiel’s lithe body.
He’s dizzy, head swimming from Castiel's body heat bleeding into him, fueling
his arousal. So with no other thought but to touch and mark and claim, Dean
pushes his thigh between Castiel's legs and closes the inches until they’re
finally touching from chest to toe.
Castiel shivers from their proximity, from the short heated puffs of Dean’s
breath as the teen drags his moist lips across Castiel’s jaw. He gasps, breath
catching in his throat when Dean forces his legs to part, knees almost buckling
when he feels the younger man’s length hardening against his hip, knowing all
he has to do is turn his own face a scant inch, and their lips will be touching
too.
And he wants to do it. Will do it.
He moves slowly, fearing Dean might bolt, tilting his face so that their mouths
align, licking his lips in anticipation, cock hardening when Dean exhales
heatedly across his feverish skin, fingers curling around the teen’s hips,
pulling him closer. Dean’s body trembles, reacting deliciously to his uncle’s
sinful touches, head canting, lips parting...
“Uncle Cas!!!”
Adam
They leap apart, the inferno between their bodies doused in freezing water.
“Yo, Dean!” they hear Sam shout from below. “We’re skipping practice today!
Wanna hang with uncle Cas!”
Dean steps further back, staring at Castiel with wide terrified eyes. “Up
here!” he shouts back, giving his uncle a wide berth on his way to the stairs.
“Dean, wait-“ Castiel calls after him.
Dean stops but doesn’t look back. “I’m going out, not that it’s any of your
business.” he tells the older man, back rigid, tone frigid.
“I...okay. When will you be back?”
This time he does look back, but his eyes are guarded, the softness of his lips
replaced by a hard thin line. “Don’t wait up.”
…
After his abysmal encounter with Castiel and with no real destination in mind,
Dean races to the one place he knows he’ll find a shoulder to cry on; his best-
friend Benny’s house, more than happy when he discovers his other best buddy,
really more like a sister, Charlie, already there.
“Hey.” He nods towards his friends, certain that Benny’s steadfast loyalty and
the pretty redhead’s special blend of sass and sarcasm, will cheer him up.
They end up hanging out, easy in each other’s company, sharing a six-pack of
beer and a large pie with all the toppings; their long teen-age limbs sprawled
lazily across the room’s comfy sofa.
But it’s Dean’s uncharacteristic quiet and pensive behavior that alerts his
friends that all is not well with their usually boisterous and foul-mouthed
friend.
“What’s with you today? I mean, I know you’re upset over your grandpa, and all,
but that can’t be the only reason you’ve been acting like such a whiny bitch
all day.” Benny states shrewdly.
“Fuck off, man.” Dean sighs from his spot on the couch. “Would a little fucking
sympathy be too much of a novelty for you?”
“Me? I’m a beacon of human kindness.” Benny scoffs and tries again. “Come on,
what gives?” he prods, nudging Dean’s foot with this bent knee.
“Nothing man, just having a shitty day, is all.” Understatement of the century,
goes unsaid.
Dean’s trying to snap out of his funk, thought a few beers and shooting-the-
shit with his friends would do the trick, help him forget about his god-awful
morning and the nervous-breakdown he almost suffered after seeing Castiel again
since, forever.
But now, after what almost happened outside his bedroom…
“Come on guys, let’s go for a drive.” Dean suddenly announces. He jumps off the
couch and reaches for his shoes, eager to get up and move. He’s incredibly
restless, irritated, frustrated, fucking antsy and in urgent need of some
serious stress relief, desperate to scratch at the deep itch buzzing under his
skin.
“Da fuck you wanna go?” Benny asks, gingerly extricating himself from the
petite redhead, and reaches for his own boots.
The immediate, obvious and only place Dean wants to head back to is Castiel’s
arms. But he won’t, he’s vowed to never give himself so completely to anyone
ever again, especially not his uncle.
So instead, he suggests, “I’m thinking, maybe somewhere we can score a little
action. Maybe find a nice warm body that won’t mind getting up close and
personal with my…” he smiles, wide and lecherous, eyebrows waggling, hands
gesturing towards his crotch.
Benny snorts and nods. “Brotha, you have a one track mind. And I like it! So
what are you in the mood for tonight? Dick or pussy?”
“Blegh!” Charlie grimaces, sticking her finger in her mouth and making mock
retching sounds. “Seriously, if I could bottle the classiness that so
effortlessly oozes out of your pores, I’d have...an empty bottle.” she quips.
“Surprise me.” Dean snorts laughter, answering Benny’s question.
Benny laughs too but takes Dean’s request seriously, tapping his heavily
stubbled chin with the tip of his finger while mulling over their options. “I
know! The Roadhouse, we haven’t been there in too long, bound to be fresh
meat.”
“Dean, going out and having sex with some random nobody is not the cure.”
Charlie advises. “You need to go talk to him.” she insists, referring to
Castiel, already well informed of his and Dean’s sordid past.
There isn’t much Dean’s kept hidden from his best friends and knowing that he’s
completely exposed the most vulnerable aspects of his life, of his personality,
willingly handed over his true self to the two people he trusts the most with
his fragile feelings, is a fact that is both comforting and downright
unnerving.
“Come on, he was your first love. And trust me, you are not going to find a
love like the one you had with him at the Roadhouse.” She persists, totally
willing to nag Dean incessantly until he relents and discusses his stunted
emotions with his emotionally immature uncle.
“’Fraid to admit it, but Charlie does have a point.” Benny weighs in. “Don’t
get me wrong, I’m mad as hell at this Castiel. I think the man owes you a
goddamn explanation for, you know...breaking your heart and shit. So, maybe,
you should go back to your place and you know, skip this little outing and call
it a night.”
Dean considers his friends’ advise, really appreciates how they have his back,
but he can’t face Castiel, yet. If ever again. He knows, without a doubt, that
if he were alone with his uncle, right now, he’d give in, literally throw
himself at the bastard, and beg to be taken, used, loved.
Not again!
Well, that’s my mind made up, then. Dean concludes and with a frustrated grunt,
says, “Come on guys, there’s a hot piece of ass with my name written all over
them waiting for me at the Roadhouse.”
“Well, you can count me out, bitches.” Charlie announces with an exaggerated
roll of her eyes. Then to Dean says, “I did not sign up to be your enabler,
Dean. So, if you insist in burying your real emotions in meaningless sex,
well...” she walks over to him and places her small hand on his shoulder. “I’ll
be here for you when you need me, you big idiot, okay.” she says kindly,
offering him a small understanding smile.
…
Twenty minutes later, Dean and Benny are walking into the Roadhouse, the part
restaurant, part clubhouse, is their town’s favorite teen hangout.
“Well that was fast.” Benny remarks as he and Dean sidle into an empty booth.
“What is?”
“The googly eyes that hot brunette is throwing your way, that’s what.”
Dean looks in the direction his friend is non-to subtly pointing to and gapes.
“Isn’t that Lisa Braeden?”
“The one and the same. I’m guessing she’s out on the prowl for her next boy
toy, and from the looks of it, seems like you’re it, pardner.” Benny points
out, slapping Dean hard on the back.
“But isn’t she going out with that dick, Gordon?”
Benny just looks at his friend and smirks. “Man you really are out if it, ain’t
ya. They broke up during first period. We watched it happen.” He reminds Dean
turning his head and whistling. “This Castiel thing’s really got you all spun
around, huh?”
“Hmpft, Castiel who?” Dean replies, trying for cavalier, dismissive, but not
fooling his friend.
“Yeah, nice try. Now you go talk to that girl and lay on some of that famous
Winchester charm. I’m sure a little quality time with her will help you forget
all about that asshat.”
Dean’s stares at Benny a moment longer, psyching himself up, ready to walk over
to his, fingers-crossed, distraction for the evening, when she beats him to it.
“Dean!” Lisa says excitedly, flashing him a dazzling smile, large brown eyes
batting flirtatiously. “I’m so glad to run into you.”
Dean’s eyes boggle, he knew the girl was pretty, but up close, with all of her
attention focused strictly on him, she’s a fucking knock-out. “Hey there Lisa.”
He says casually, as nonchalant as possible, licking his lips when his throat
suddenly feels too dry. “I’m really glad too.”
Benny’s loud cough gets their attention. “Well, I just remembered, I, um, have
a ton of laundry I gotta do before tomorrow, so, ah…I’ll catch you both later.”
Leaning closer to Dean, he whispers, “Do me proud.” and clambers out.
…
Dean scoots over and gestures for Lisa to join him. “So, you and Gordon, huh?”
The pretty brunette drops her eyes and shakes her head. “Guess you heard. We,
well, I, broke it off.” she confides, looking back up with large sad eyes.
“But,” she continues, large smile back in place. “It was a long time coming,
really, and he didn’t appreciate me or what we had, you know. And I just needed
more, know what I mean? So…oh my god, I’m so sorry for rambling on like that.
You must think I’m an idiot.”
Dean takes her hand in his and inches closer. “No, never. And yeah, I totally
get why you broke it off with him.” Because he does know, sadly all too well,
the heartache of a one-sided relationship.
Relationship? As if.
“His loss, my gain.” He eventually says, leaning even closer, layering the
comment with a seductive purr, murmuring the words across her cheek.
They spend the next hour chatting and getting to know each other, the tentative
brushing of fingertips turning into outright groping the later the hour gets.
…
“Oh Dean” Lisa sighs, head falling back against the cool leather of the
Impala’s backseat. “Ahh…” She moans when Dean tugs at her underwear, dipping
his fingers around the lace edge and slides them off. She reclines further
back, legs spreading, arms winding around Dean’s shoulders, clinging to him.
Dean’s on automatic, going through the motions, because even though his mind
and heart are unwilling participants, he’s more than happy to let his body do
what it does best. Sure, it may be abrupt, and he is most definitely taking
advantage, but fuck it, it’s not like the girl writhing beneath is complaining.
“Mmm…so fucking hot for you, baby.” It’s a reflex, an innate instinct to charm
and captivate a potential lay. But the words ring hollow in his ears and he
almost cringes. Still, he started this and will do his damnedest to see it
through.
Dean Winchester is nothing if not a thoroughly dedicated fucker.
He buries his face in her neck, mouthing at the fragile skin, tongue licking a
wet trail towards her chest, pausing to suck a hickey on the swell of her
breast. He shoves two fingers into his mouth and sucks on them, thoroughly
coating them with saliva, dropping his hand back between her legs to insert
spit sloppy digits into her wet cunt.
“Deeen!” She keens, back arching, breath coming out in short gasps.
God, he wishes she wouldn’t speak. Wishes the timbre and tone of her soft
feminine voice was deeper, lower, gruffer, like…
He growls in frustration and pushes the thought aside. Fuck’s wrong with me? he
wonders, almost snorting at the absurdity of his skewed thought processes.
Right here sprawled in the backseat of his car, eager and ready for the taking,
is the hottest girl in school and all he can focus on is how not right her
voice sounds or how wrong her body feels.
He hates to admit it, but he’s certain his lackluster performance is a
combination of Castiel’s sudden reappearance and his innate fear that no one,
especially someone like Lisa, will ever ‘appreciate’ his aggressive approach to
fucking and reciprocate with the same amount of passion that comes all to
naturally to him.
No, what Dean wants, what he craves and has always needed is someone that will
take the time to tear and break him apart with their hands and mouth and then
care enough to put him back together with a warm caress, or a loving word.
Just like uncle Cas. Dean's dick starts to fill in earnest thanks to that
depraved realization.
“Fuck!” he hisses, body coursing with boner-killing ire.
He sits back on his knees and gently pulls his wet tacky fingers out. “You want
my cock, huh, Lisa?” He whispers in the cramped space, palming at his crotch.
“Is that what you want, huh, you cockslut.” He keeps taunting, completely
distracted and not really paying attention to the offensive filth coming out of
his mouth, all of his focus zeroed in on the sad fact that he’s nowhere near
hard.
With a muffled ‘harrumph’, Lisa shimmies out from under Dean’s legs, reaches
for her discarded clothes and clutches them tightly to her chest. “Wow, Dean,
ah, I really like you, but not so crazy about your pillow talk.”
Really? Like every girl doesn’t dream of not-getting-fucked by a surly and
flaccid Dean in the back of his precious Impala. Pure Disney magic at work,
folks!
Dean can’t believe how much of a fuck up he’s turning out to be. But
confounding his self hate is the fact that he’s also ruined Lisa’s night.
“Sorry about that, I sometimes get a little carried away.”
Yeah, d’uh!
They put themselves back together, not touching, avoiding eye contact, the
silence deafening, awkward.
“Can I give you a ride home-“ Dean offers, hoping desperately she’ll say no.
“No, thanks.”
Whew!
“My car’s right over there.” She responds, pointing to a cherry red Taurus
parked under a street lamp.
Dean opens his door and offers her his hand. “Here, I’ll walk you over-“
“No, don’t be silly.” She protests. “You look like you’ve had a hard day. I
know I did.” She mutters to herself. “Just watch and make sure I get in, okay.”
“Sure, no prob.”
They stand looking at each other a moment longer under the unforgiving lights
of the restaurant's parking lot, feet shuffling, hands tucked in pockets, not
sure where to go from here.
Lisa, reading the situation for what it is, bravely makes the final move. “You
take care, Dean.” she tells him and with a pained smile, stands on her toes and
gives him one last kiss on the cheek.
…
It’s an hour later before Dean’s finally stumbling into his house. He spent the
last forty-five minutes sitting in his car chugging down five beers, brooding
over missed opportunities and failed relationships, recalling the bittersweet
memories of smooth chiseled planes, pink plush lips, and ocean blue eyes. And
as a result is very drunk and unfortunately, very horny.
“Where the hell have you been?” Castiel growls, wrathful, jumping on Dean the
second the teen closes the door, hands wrapping around Dean’s biceps, fingers
denting the skin, sure to leave bruises.
“Fuck you care?” Dean slurs, trying and failing to break out of his uncle’s
iron-like grip.
Castiel levels his nephew with a stormy look, gaze hovering over Dean’s lips,
back up to his eyes. “It’s two am, Dean.” He snarls, voice hoarse, gravely, the
tone dangerous, teeth clenched, body stepping closer. “You didn’t call…I was
worried.”
Dean finally manages to break free, but trips over his own feet when he tries
to step around Castiel’s intimidating stance. “Well,” he hiccups, bracing
himself with a hand against Castiel’s chest. Fuck, he’s so ripped, Dean notes
absently, fingers spreading over the firm peck and squeezing.
A rushed intake of breath from the man he’s currently fondling brings him back
to the moment. “Ah…oh yeah, it’s none of your fucking business, for one.” he
starts in again, mind back on track. “And for number two,” he sniggers, holding
up two fingers. “If you really must know, I was with a girl. A fucking
beautiful girl. Hot! With big titties and a fucking tight pussy. Okay!” He
flaunts. “She was so fucking hot for me, so fucking wet, Cas, all for me,
okay.”
It’s like a punch to the gut. Castiel never expected Dean to wait for him, per
se, to live a ‘chaste and celibate’ life, but having the reality of his
nephew’s philandering thrown in his face, has him quite literally seeing red
and in his anger shoves Dean forcibly against the wall, hard enough so that the
young man’s teeth rattle.
"You mean to tell me that the reason you're so late is because you were out
fucking some girl?" he hisses, chest tight, he can barely breathe, rage making
him irrational.
Dean pushes him off, knocking the older man over. "Yes I did!” He growls right
back, heart racing, reveling in the pain that crosses Castiel’s blue eyes. “And
it was fucking fantastic! The best goddamn sex I ever had!”
He strides to where Castiel has landed and looming over him, sneers, “She does
things to me that no one else ever has, Cas. Not even you.” he mocks cruelly.
“Made me feel so goddamn good. Wish I was back with her right now." he wavers,
words petering out, uncertainty taking their place.
Now that the initial rush to hurt and to gouge and to cut Castiel to the quick
is satisfied, all that he’s left with is a gut wrenching desire to comfort and
to…love.
But he won’t and can’t stop. He needs Castiel to hurt, to feel the same deep
ache that he’s had to endure, to fucking accept and embrace as a fact of life,
for the past five years.
“She wanted me.” he continues, words heated, defiant, daring Castiel to
challenge him. “Me! Thought I was worth her time. And fucking screamed like a
goddamn banshee when I fucked her, she loved my cock so much.”
Castiel stares, stormy glower softening in the face of Dean’s tirade, attention
rapt as Dean unleashes years of pent up grief. And he takes it all, all of
Dean’s abuse, eagerly, with open arms, until the young man has tired himself
out.
He staggers to his feet and reaches for his nephew, tentatively grasping onto
his forearms when the latter doesn’t back away and pulls Dean closer.
Dean sways against his uncle’s chest, bunching the front of Castiel’s shirt in
his fists and yanks him forward, chins bumping. “So fuck you and fuck your fake
fucking concern, you fucking prick. ‘Cause I don’t need you. I already have
someone that actually wants me.” He rambles on, voice small, the words ghosting
heatedly over Castiel’s mouth, fingers flexing around the wrinkled fabric.
“Dean,” Castiel sighs, desire and intent clear in the husky rumble. “Of course
she wants you, my beautiful boy.” He takes Dean’s face, cupping the chiseled
jaw in his warm hands, chin pivoting a little bit higher, until their lips
brush. “Everybody wants you. Only a complete fool would refuse you.” he tells
Dean, the words coming out hoarse, but the fierceness and conviction in his
tone leaves no room for doubt to whom he’s referring.
Their lips connect, again and again, for the briefest of moments, the pressure
tender, barely there, exhaling and inhaling the building heat between them.
“You…you don’t want me, though.” Dean argues, voice shaky the words faltering.
He feels like he’s falling, like the ground is getting ready to open up and
swallow him whole. Only Castiel’s hands, his will, keeping him grounded,
keeping him safe. “Why…how, how come…did I do something, what did I do wrong?”
Castiel turns their bodies towards the stairs, gently nudging Dean in their
general direction. “But I do want you, Dean.” He purrs, lips hovering over the
teen’s. “More than anything.” He swears, not pausing as he guides Dean to his
bedroom.
They make it to the stairs, stopping for a brief moment on each step to hold
each other a little bit closer, to press their faces into the other’s neck a
little bit deeper, inhaling the other’s glorious scent, grabbing and groping
every body part within reach.
Castiel opens Dean’s bedroom door and steers Dean to his bed, letting him fall
back onto it when the teen’s knees hit the mattress’ edge.
“Umpht!” Dean grunts upon impact, still pleasantly tipsy, laughter bubbling up
his throat, he feels so fucking good. “C’mere.” He orders, patting the bed in
invitation.
Castiel goes eagerly; kneeling next to his nephew’s hip and bending at the
waist to unbutton his shirt. “Dean, as much as I would love to lay here with
you,” he says softly, eyes raking over Dean’s exposed chest, gaze dark with
want, lips curling in a feral smile. “I’m…fuck.” He mouths, licking his lips.
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
The bottom drops out from under Dean and he lashes out. “I fucking knew it!” he
scrambles back, kicking out at Castiel with his feet.
“Dean, you don’t understand-”
“No! Fuck you, Cas. You know what, you’re a real fucking dick.” He snarls,
spitting the words, suddenly sober, swinging his legs over the bed and out of
his uncle’s reach. “What is it with me, huh, you enjoy putting my heart through
the fucking meat grinder? Get your kicks seeing me make a fool out of myself
over you?”
He walks around the bed to where Castiel still lays stunned, crestfallen, wide-
eyed with shock.
“Dean, you are gravely mistaken if you think that my intention was to hurt
you.”
“Mistaken? The only thing I made a mistake in was letting myself think that you
actually gave a damn!” Incensed and full of rage, Dean pounces, throwing his
heavier body on top of Castiel’s, grabbing his wrists and pinning them over his
head. “You know what Cas, there’s a special place in hell for sick pricks like
you.” he smirks, struggling for control while his uncle squirms and bucks under
him.
They grapple, wrestling for dominance, arms and legs tangling, fists flying and
hitting their target, rolling around on the bed and landing hard on the
hardwood floor.
“Stop! Dean, please, listen to-“
A fist to his jaw silences Castiel and he tastes iron.
“No…it’s your turn to listen.” Dean pants, out of breath, straddling Castiel
now that he has the upper hand. “Not a little kid anymore, uncle Cas.” He
sneers, infusing as much of his hurt and anger into Castiel’s name as his
broken heart can manage. “Did you actually think I was gonna let you waltz back
into my life, tear my whole fucking world upside down, rip my heart out, again,
and I wouldn’t do anything about it?”
Dean grinds his ass against Castiel’s crotch, the gyrations an obscene contrast
to the menace in his tone. “Humpht.” He smirks, grinding down with more force
when Castiel’s erection wedges perfectly between his denim-clad cheeks. “I know
you wanna fuck me, I can feel it.” His voice dips low, a sexy murmur, bending
lower until his face hovers directly over Castiel’s, lips grazing his uncle’s
tempting mouth.
Castiel’s back arches, bringing their chests flush, his lips part, and in a
breathless whisper says, “Yes, I do, Dean. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
The fire in Castiel’s eyes burns with an unwavering desire for the god-like
teen, and raising his head, brazenly chases after Dean’s lips.
Dean draws back, denying Castiel, and himself, and with a pained expression,
asks, “Then why did you leave…me?” he wants to know, needs to know, eyes
pleading, welling with tears. “I...you never even said goodbye.”
Castiel’s heart breaks. Again. He desperately wants to take Dean’s pain away,
to be the one to put the mischievous glint back into the teens beautiful green
eyes.
He shifts under Dean and eases him back, sits up and maneuvers Dean until he’s
perched on Castiels’ thighs, arms winding around the youth’s waist. “I’m so
sorry for hurting you.” he apologizes, bringing a hand up to Dean’s face, thumb
caressing the high ridge of his cheekbone. “What I did, leaving you, was the
hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” Castiel lowers his hand until it rests on
Dean’s nape, and wrapping his fingers around the fragile skin, pulls the teen
in for a soft kiss.
The luscious press of lips starts off slow and sensual, but when Castiel licks
into Dean’s mouth, this, their first real kiss in five years, turns sloppy and
wet, hungry and possessive when Castiel thrusts his tongue forcibly into his
nephew’s mouth.
“I wanted to give you time-” Castiel starts again, sucking in a ragged breath
when they break for air.
“Time for what? I don’t-”
But Castiel cuts Dean off, silencing the distraught youth with another kiss.
“Time,” he continues, eyes locked on Dean’s “To make sure you really wanted me,
and this. Dean you were twelve. I couldn’t let myself take advantage of you.
I...I loved you too much. Still do.”
Dean’s speechless, unsure what to do now or what’s expected of him.
Castiel loves me? Wants me?
It’s everything Dean’s ever hoped for. But he hesitates, doubtful of his
uncle’s claims and only sure of his own desperate need to believe and trust in
him, again.
“But just now,” he points out, voice small and hurt, but with an expectant
edge. “I mean earlier when you said you couldn’t stay with me-”
“Dean you were drunk. I wasn’t going to sleep with you unless I was sure you
were in your right mind and really wanted this…as much as I do.” Castiel
explains, fingers kneading Deans sides, skimming over his hips, snaking around
and landing on his ass. “Do you still want to? Me, I mean?”
Dean can’t believe his ears. The earnestness in Castiel’s baby-blues and the
unbridled hope in his tone, finally convince Dean, that yes, good things do
happen, even to him.
“Do I want you?” he huffs in disbelief. “Fuck yeah! Always…always, want you.
Never stopped.” he swears and surges forward to wrap his arms around Castiel’s
shoulders, kissing him deep and hard, teeth knocking, tongues tangling, ass
undulating sensuously against the older man’s lap.
It’s like the proverbial ‘weight of the world’ magically lifts off Dean’s
shoulders when he allows himself to believe, to trust, that Castiel’s love for
him is true. That the man he’s been committed to since the age of twelve, even
though he vehemently fought against it, isn’t going to abandon him ever again.
“Cas…” Dean exhales seductively into his uncle’s mouth. “Missed you so fucking
much.” He groans, hips grinding over Castiel’s obscenely tented slacks. “Missed
your cock so much…want you in me.” he pleads, body thrumming with arousal,
fingers twisting in the thick mess of Castiel’s hair, holding onto to him for
dear life.
Castiel hums approvingly, completely on board with his nephew’s suggestions. He
helps Dean off the floor, never breaking contact, skillfully steering him back
towards his bed, maneuvering Dean until the younger man is laying flat on his
back.
“Dean, I’ve wanted this for so long.” Castiel confesses, voice coarse, gravel
rough from want, from years of yearning for this bewitching boy, this man that
so completely owns his heart and his very soul.
He climbs onto the bed, knee nudging Dean’s legs apart, bending lower to reach
the teen’s beautifully swollen lips, tongue swiping hot and wet across the
seam, insistent, demanding entrance, mapping out the entirety of his nephew’s
mouth, relearning the delectable feel, shape, and taste of him. Of Dean.
Dean moans, whimpering sweet little sounds of pleasure as Castiel ravishes his
mouth, reaching out with a blinding urgency to unbutton his uncle’s shirt.
“Need you naked, now!” he orders, yanking at the offensive shirt, impatiently
tearing at it so that the last three buttons pop off.
Castiel pulls back, but only far enough to get his arms free and his fly open.
He leans back on his haunches and snakes a hand down his briefs, pulling out
his fully erect cock, tugging and stroking its long length to ease the building
pressure to his balls.
Dean’s eyes grow large and dark. “Fuck” he gasps, mesmerized, catching his full
bottom lip between his teeth, mouth watering with deep appreciation for
Castiel’s endowment.
But when he grabs for his own zipper, Castiel smacks his hands away, and in one
fell swoop, divests Dean of both his jeans and underwear.
“Eager much, Cas?” Dean wisecracks, earning himself a withering glare for his
cheekiness, and laughing outright from his uncle’s petulant reaction. “Get over
here.” He says, pulling the older man down and wiping the frown off his face
with a heated kiss.
Their kisses deepen and their hands wander freely, fingers squeezing, pinching,
marking each other, a frantic give and take of pleasure and pain. And, now
fully nude, with nothing to buffer their excitement or desire for the other,
they’re free to explore with their hands, and eyes, and mouths.
Castiel covers the entirety of Dean’s face, neck and torso with a long winding
path of nips, sucks and bites, mouth pausing over his nipples, teeth grazing
over the erect nubs, teasing them until they’re red and swollen.
Dean hisses from the focused stimulation, mind unraveling from the heightened
pleasure. “Fucking killing me, Cas.”
Castiel lifts his head, looking up at Dean with lust-hungry eyes, and smirks, a
smug barely there curl of his lips that only serves to magnify Dean’s arousal,
and then lowers his head again, continuing on his journey.
His lips follow a serpentine path towards Dean’s groin, pausing for a long
leisurely moment to worship at his hipbones, worrying the peaks with his teeth,
sucking hard until blood blossoms under the thin flesh.
“Please...” Dean begs, shamelessly, wantonly, not caring one bit how he sounds,
hips jerking up, dick slapping Castiel’s cheek, leaving behind a slicked smear
of pre-cum.
“Fuck…” the older man groans, pressing his palm against his own erection to
stave off his orgasm. “What…” he gasps, swallowing around the lump in his
throat in a vain attempt to get his breathing under control. “What…Dean, tell
me what you want.” He huffs, teasing, pulling his head back, skirting around
Dean’s dick, head dropping between the teen’s thighs to bite at the baby soft
skin.
“Jee-zus!” Dean does not whine, biting down on his knuckles to keep from
screaming, pelvis wiggling in frustration, hands reaching down to grip at
Castiel’s shoulders, fingers crawling up to thread through the silky strands of
hair to guide his uncle’s filthy mouth towards his aching dick.
“Dean…I can’t hear you.” Castiel provokes, adding fuel to the fire currently
coursing through his nephew’s veins.
“Cas, you…you are one cruel fucker!” Dean hisses. “Just…fucking blow me
already!”
He feels Castiel smirk against the sensitive flesh, writhing as the older man
sucks and bites his way from his inner thighs towards his rigid length.
“Oh…fucking lord!” Dean cries out when Castiel wraps warm fingers around his
shaft, face poised over his nephew’s dick for a beat, before finally,
blissfully, closing his lips around the crown, tongue licking a long line from
tip to base then back up, slurping around the head, the sharp point of his
tongue stabbing at the slit.
Dean bites down hard on his bottom lip to keep his voice down, to keep his
screaming in check, but not really too worried about being overheard since he
knows, all too well, how thoroughly like the dead, both of his brother’s tend
to sleep.
“Cassss…” he moans, canting his hips higher, trying to get his uncle to take
more of him in.
Castiel hums and groans as he laps and sucks, head lowering until he’s mouthing
at the base, lips opening wide to suckle on his balls, looking up with lust
blown eyes and locking them with Dean’s as he devours the entirety of his
length.
“Dean…” Castiel breaks off for a second. “Lube…” he murmurs over the glistening
head.
Dean wiggles over to the bed’s edge and fishes for his lube, tossing it next to
Castiel’s head with a triumphant grunt.
Castiel sucks him back down. Dean groans.
Castiel swallows. Dean curses and bucks.
Castiel chokes, eyes watering, spluttering for air. Dean cries. The vibrations
that thrum around Dean’s dick push the teen to the brink.
Castiel pulls off but keeps his fingers wrapped around the base, bending to
suckle at the plumb head while reaching with his other hand to prod at Dean’s
hole, gently pressing the tip of a finger against the springy pucker without
breaching it.
Dean curses, his soft breathy moans filling the otherwise quiet of his bedroom.
Castiel teases Dean’s entrance, finger swirling around the rim, groaning and
almost cumming when it flutters and spasms around the digit, finally inserting
it when Dean pleads for mercy.
His finger glides into the first knuckle, pulsing in and out for a long moment,
crooking and probing, before adding a second. Scissoring and stretching Dean
until the teen is thrashing and jerking, outright begging, an incoherent ramble
of please, and you’re killing me, and fuck me now.
“M-more...ready,” Dean grunts, needing more, demanding that his uncle pick up
the fucking pace.
But Castiel ignores his cries, opting instead to savor the teen’s bitter-sweet
taste and the exquisite sounds he makes as Castiel continues to open him up. He
scoots even lower and urges Dean to part his thighs further, presses his face
against the teen’s ass, and with the aid of two fingers, slips his tongue in,
moaning out loud from the heady musk and all-consuming heat of Dean’s essence.
“Argh!” Dean cries out, bucking from how fucking great it feels, his untouched
dick hot and heavy against his hip, pre-cum leaking freely from the tip, he’s
so fucking ready to blow.
”Fuck…gonna cum…swear…”
Castiel immediately pulls out, much to Dean’s displeasure (or is it relief)
laughing wickedly at his nephew’s needy whimpers, stroking his shaft and
repositioning himself between the younger man’s legs. He picks up the discarded
bottle of lube, squeezes more into his palm (sure to spread it liberally along
the long length of his cock) and placing the blunt end against the loosened
muscle, eases in, one painstaking inch at a time.
It’s like coming home, Castiel muses, heart thumping heavily in his chest from
the realization. Filling Dean, feeling how the teen’s exquisite body closes
around him, encasing him in tight, tight heat, devouring him, this, right here,
is where he was always meant to be. And despite all of his nephew’s bravado, he
moves slowly, cautiously, giving the younger man a chance to adjust and relax
around him while his uncle bottoms-out, hips pressed flush against the teen’s
ass.
He slumps forward, hands flat on either side of Dean’s shoulders, the teen’s
legs wrapping around his waist, and bends even lower to trade a few kisses and
to whisper a few loving words. But once he’s confident Dean’s adjusted, Castiel
pulls out almost all the way, only the bulbous tip caught around the tight rim,
freezing in that position for a glorious moment to look into his lover’s heavy-
lidded eyes, lips curling in another wicked grin, and slams back in with a
brutal snap of his hips.
“Grahhh!” Dean grunts, head slamming back against his pillow, eyes sealed shut,
lips parted on a silent plea from the overwhelming pleasure, hoping like hell
that his little brothers don’t wake.
"Dean…" Castiel gasps, pace a slow sensual drag of velvet swallowed by velvet.
"So…beautiful…love you.” he huffs, breathless, cock needy, thrusting with a
relentless rhythm into Dean’s quivering body. “Your mine now…say, say it…say
you're mine." He demands slamming back in, pace quickening, punishing, when he
thinks of another touching his boy.
"Yours…" the teen chokes out, chest heaving, body shuddering when a
particularly well aimed thrust brushes deliciously against his prostate.
"Always…" He moans, delirious, teeth clenched to stifle back a sob, dick
slapping obscenely against his stomach, the glorious friction and the look of
complete and utter possessiveness in Castiel’s eyes has him on the precipice,
and he’s more than ready to fall.
Castiel too can feel his orgasm building; each thrust more and more erratic,
breaths short, heart rate furious. He grips the firm muscles of Dean’s ass and
hoists his legs higher, allowing him to penetrate deeper and to fuck him
harder. “Dean…cum…cum for me…” Only me.
And that’s all she wrote.
Castiel’s command (permission) and the persistent pounding to his sweet spot
pushes Dean over the edge. “Mmmpht-“ he chokes and cums, cock pulsing between
them, shooting ropes and ropes of semen across their torsos.
Transfixed by the gorgeous sight of his nephew coming undone because of him,
plus the overwhelming stimulation of Dean’s hole flexing and spasming around
his dick, unravels the tightly coiled heat in Castiel’s gut, and he spills,
breathlessly moaning a chorus of Dean and mine and always, into the teen’s
neck.
Dean hooks his ankles higher to pull Castiel closer when he feels the older
man’s body stiffen and his cock throb inside him. He latches on tightly while
Castiel rides out his orgasm; digging blunt fingernails into the flexing
muscles of his uncle’s back and whispering his own stream of sweet-nothings
into his ear.
Finally emptied, Castiel collapses, a boneless weight on top of Dean. He turns
his head so that he faces his nephew, places a soft kiss on the hinge of his
jaw and drapes a heavy arm over the youth’s waist, tucking him against his
side.
“We need to clean up and then you need to sleep. You still have school
tomorrow.” Castiel mumbles sleepily into the short sweaty strands of Dean’s
hair, moving gently so as not to jostle the teen as he tries to get up.
“M’stay.” Dean pouts, wrapping the older man in a tangle of arms and legs,
sighing contentedly when he’s met with no resistance.
Castiel laughs, full and genuine, happiness rolling off him in waves. “Has
anyone ever told you are incredibly irresistible?” Castiel chastises, brow
cocked, but stays, burrowing his head into his nephew’s neck, peppering the
damp skin with slow lazy kisses until they both drift off, peaceful and
satisfied.
…
It’s only a few hours later but for the first time in five years Dean wakes
feeling thoroughly rested. Sure, he’s achy and sore, but he’s never felt
better.
He reaches out, hand groping for Castiel’s warm body and finds a cold empty
spot instead. Panicked, he bolts from his bed, yanks the door open, and rushes
out into the hallway where he’s immediately hit with the delicious aroma of…
Bacon
“God, I love that fuckable asshole.” He mutters to himself.
“Ewww, Dean! You freakin reek, dude!” Sam cries out, pinching his nostrils shut
with one hand and fanning the air with his other. “And for chrissakes, put some
pants on, man!” he begs, mock-retching. "Gonna give Adam nightmares if he sees
you like that!”
Sam skirts around his bemused brother and heads for the stairs, yelling over
his shoulder as he thumps heavily down to the lower level, “Don’t want uncle
Cas seeing your junk either, bro, we just finally got him back. Don’t wanna
scare him off again.”
Dean laughs at how on the money his little brother tends to be with his snarky-
ass comments. “Little shit.” He huffs with affection and feeling lighter than
he ever thought possible, heads to the bathroom.
…
“Good morning, Dean. Did you sleep well?” Castiel asks by way of greeting, eyes
locking onto his oldest nephew the second he walks into the kitchen; smile so
wide, the corners of his eyes crinkle. “How do you feel?”
Dean grins back, just as wide and just as sincere, wanting nothing more in that
moment than to drag his uncle back up to his bedroom, kiss the smug grin off
his handsome face, and show him with his mouth and hands just how fucking great
he feels. “Feel real good, Cas.” He says instead, moving to stand next to him
by the counter. “Smells great.” he beams, pressing unnecessarily close to
Castiel’s side in order to reach for a strip of bacon. “Taste good, too.” he
hums, munching happily.
Castiel narrows his eyes and glares at him, but with no heat, small-pleased
smile still playing on the corners of his lips. “Here, I’ll make you a dish,
sit.” He orders, pointing to the dining table and warning Dean with a stern
look to behave.
…
A short while later, with bellies full from their delicious breakfast, Sam and
Adam are tearing out of their seats and heading for their book-bags, yelling as
they pass by Dean’s still seated figure to hurry the heck up before they miss
their bus.
Dean sends his uncle a lopsided grin and shrugs as if to say, these crazy kids,
what can I do? He reaches across the table for Castiel’s hand, giving it a
small squeeze and gets up to leave.
“Dean, um, will you be home later?” Castiel asks his nephew, suddenly shy,
chewing nervously on his plump bottom lip, still holding the teen’s hand.
Dean brings the older man’s hand up to his lips and presses a kiss across the
knuckles. “Cas, I’m only going in for attendance, then my ass is right back
here and we’re going right back to bed.” He explains with a suggestive wink.
Castiel’s eyes widen, scandalized. “No, you will not. I won’t have you cutting
school, Dean. Not on my watch. You will attend all of your classes and when-“
“Whoa, whoa,” Dean jumps in, hands held up in surrender. “It’s not like that,
at all. It’s finals week and since I’ve aced all of my classes, I’m exempt.”
Dean clarifies, chest puffing up with pride. “Hey, don’t look so surprised,” he
huffs indignantly when Castiel eyes him suspiciously. “Sammy isn’t the only
genius in the family.”
Castiel drops his eyes, cheeks blushing from embarrassment. “My apologies,
Dean. I don’t doubt your intelligence for one second. I do, however, believe,
well, hoped anyway, that you might try to play hooky in order to spend more
time with me.” he answers sheepishly, eyes looking everywhere but at Dean.
“You sap.” Dean grins and pulls the older man into a crushing embrace.
“Dean, haul ass!”
“Adam.” Dean grumbles. “That kid’s got a mouth on him.” he smirks but makes a
mental note to sit his little brother down and warm him against using that kind
of language whenever their mother is around, or it’s his hide.
“Listen,” Dean says softly, lips closing over Castiel’s. “Gotta run. But I’ll
be back in two hours, max.” another kiss, a hard squeeze to the older man’s
ass, and Dean leaves.
…
Dean storms through the front door, a record forty-seven minutes later.
“Ca-“ he calls out, cut off when he’s forcibly slammed against the foyer wall.
“Hey-“ he starts, but again is cut off, this time by Castiel’s mouth pressing
urgent kisses across the teen’s face, into the fragrant crook of his neck,
against his mouth, while strong hands travel the length of his torso, along his
sides, winding around his waist to rest on the swell of his ass.
“I missed you.” Castiel growls, eyes wide, glowing, dipping his head and
burying it once again against Dean’s throat, teeth parting to graze at the
thundering pulse-point.
Dean gulps and licks his lips, arms wrapping around Castiel’s shoulders. “Y-
yeah…I can see that.” he pants from the onslaught, head falling back exposing
more of his neck for his uncle to ravage. “Can’t get enough of me, huh, Cas?”
“No…” Castiel mouths the word against the divot in Dean’s throat, tongue
swirling around his adam’s apple, trailing a long damp line to the curve of the
teen’s jaw. “A lifetime with you…Dean,” he sighs, the hot rush of air behind
the sensitive earlobe gives the teen goose bumps. “And it still won’t be
enough.”
Dean grabs Castiel’s face, and without further ado or preamble or any other
fucking idiom his buzzing mind can come up with, crashes their lips together,
kissing him breathless, sucking with a great deal of fervor on his uncle’s hot-
as-fuck tongue. “Fuck, Cas-“ he huffs around the slippery muscle. “You can’t
just say things like that.” he argues, diving back in to swallow whatever
romantic shit the older man might come up with to counter Dean’s lame-ass
protest.
“What say we move this little reunion…” Dean suggests with a lewd roll of his
hips, grinding the large bulge he’s sporting against Castiel’s fuck-hard
erection. “Back to my room?”
“No,” his uncle replies, nose brushing across Dean’s ear, fingers hooking
through the teen’s belt loops. “My room, I have a special surprise for you.”
…
They stumble clumsily towards Castiel’s room, hands and mouths never breaking
contact, almost falling through the door when they refuse to part for even a
second.
But once inside, they do pause.
Dean gazes around the room, eyes sparkling from the reflection, and whistling a
long undulating note, says, “Wow! Um, think you got enough candles set up here,
Cas?” he remarks, trying for flippant even though his heart swells with
unbridled love for his uncle’s uber romantic gesture. “Pretty nice, baby.” He
adds and wraps an arm around the older man’s neck, angling it so that he can
rest his head on his uncle’s shoulder.
Dean has to hand it to Castiel, when he said he had a special surprise, he
wasn’t kidding. The teen gazes around the room, eyes large and grinning
stupidly, more than a little impressed with the romantic-fairytale-like
atmosphere created by the multiple flickering lights covering every surface,
“I’m glad you like it.” Castiel hums happily next to him, pivoting his head so
his lips press against Dean’s temple.
“So what’s the occasion?” Dean asks, he knows it’s a stupid question, but he’s
feeling a little entitled and figures he deserves a little self-indulgence,
especially after the hell Castiel put him through.
Castiel spins his nephew until the teen is facing him. “Dean,” he starts, voice
a low throaty whisper, eyes narrowed and focused on Dean, expression serious,
grim.
So basically, being Cas.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. Something you don’t know
about me. Something that will affect both of us and our…relationship.” He adds
with an ominous air.
Fuck’s the problem now? Dean wants to yell into his uncle’s stupidly blue eyes.
“It’s okay, Cas, you know you can tell me anything, right?” Dean says instead,
voice tight, much like his chest, forcing as much calmness and casualness into
his tone as humanly possible, considering he’s been expecting the other shoe to
drop pretty much since the moment Castiel vehemently declared his undying love
for him and assured Dean he’d never leave him again.
Yeah, that lasted about as long as Dean expected.
Dean was just hoping the inevitable breakup to their car-wreak of a
relationship wouldn’t happen until further down the line, like until the end of
the week at least, give him a chance to bask in Castiel’s effervescent light,
his otherworldly glow, in his fucking awesome presence. God, who’s the sap now?
Castiel cants his head to the side, eyes squinty, lips pursed. “Why do you look
scared?” he asks, genuinely baffled by his nephew’s sudden unease.
“What? Nothing, man, s’all good. I mean it’s not like you’re gonna tell me that
you didn’t mean everything you told me yesterday, right? Or that you’re gonna
leave and disappear, again, for god knows how long, this time.” he continues,
dread mounting with each speculation. “That you don’t really love me and never
have. I mean that would be pretty fucked up, Cas, even for you. ‘Cause,
seriously, if that’s what this is about, like you’re trying to break it to me
with candles and shit and-“
Castiel grabs Dean’s face, presses their lips together and slips his tongue in,
interrupting the teen’s incoherent rambling with his mouth and easing the
tension from Dean’s body with his hands. “Shh…” he shushes Dean, rubbing
soothing circles across his nephew’s back until he’s loose and pliant in
Castiel’s arms. “Now, from the beginning, why are you upset?” He asks again,
more gently this time reaching out to cup Dean’s face in his hands eyes alight
with concern.
Dean’s head reels, one minute they’re fumbling their way towards Castiel’s bed
with promises of great sex, and forever, and love, and the next, Castiel’s
about to tell him he wants to break up. Again.
Okay, so maybe those weren’t the actual words the older man used. But come on,
we’re talking about Castiel, here! A fucking god! Gorgeous, and smart, and
interesting, with a big beautiful cock and a mouth that won’t quit. A man that
can have anybody. So why would he settle for the likes of Dean? A stupid little
nobody that can never measure up or be good enough for this amazing man.
God, Dean is so fucking tired, fucking exhausted and done with everything and
everybody for the next…forty years, at least. So taking a page out of Charlie's
book, he mans up and decides to tell, to confess to his ‘lover’, Castiel, the
fucking love of his life, what he really thinks, and, gulp, how he really
feels, once and for all.
Dean licks his lips and with grim determination starts. “Look, I’m fine, I
really am.” he lies. Fuck, this is hard, he winces, and by the way Castiel is
warily observing his anxious fidgeting, he’s not buying Dean’s bullshit either.
“Okay, maybe that wasn’t the complete truth, but come on, I’m trying here.”
Dean implores, resting his hands on Castiel’s slim hips, thumbs rubbing circles
over the jutting bone. “I mean, look at you, man. You’re freakin amazing, okay.
Like, you could have anybody. Anybody!” he repeats fiercely. “So, why would you
waste your time with me?” he murmurs low and defeated.
“Dean, please, you-“
“No. Let me finish. You wanted to know what’s wrong, right? So here it is.”
Dean takes a deep breath and with a heavy exhale, says, “Tell me Castiel,
because I really need to know, okay, no more holding back or running off. Is
this,” he gestures between them with a wave of his hand. “Only about…sex?”
“Dean…” Is all Castiel says, soft and wounded before surging forward and
wrapping Dean in his arms. “Only sex?” he asks, whispering the words in Dean’s
ear, stubbled cheek dragging deliciously across the teen’s, the combined
scritch-scratch sending shivers through them both.
Castiel tilts his face back, blue eyes searching Dean’s, hands kneading the
firm muscles of the teen’s ass. “Listen carefully, Dean Winchester.” He says,
releasing Dean’s ass and taking both of his hands instead. “I. Love. You.”
Castiel tells him, punctuating each word with a soft tap on the lips. “I am not
going anywhere. As a matter of fact,” Kiss. “What I wanted to tell you before,”
Kiss, nose rub. “Is that I have spent the past five years getting my Master’s
degree in teaching.” Kiss, tongue, nip. “And come September, I will be a
teacher in your school.”
“Wha-what? You…here? Wait, how…but when you said…let me get this straight, they
said okay?” Dean stammers, fish-mouthing from shock, and it would be comical
except for the tears pouring down his cheeks.
“Yes, Dean.” Castiel whispers sweetly, leaning forward to kiss the path of a
tear from one cheek and reaching up to gently swipe away the other with the pad
of his thumb. “Is that okay?” he has to ask, still unsure of Dean’s forgiveness
and acceptance after his betrayal.
“Okay?” Dean mimics, brows shooting high on his forehead, wondering how Castiel
could even ask such a thing. How he can doubt Dean’s deep seeded need to have
him constantly by his side? Or not know how he languished in misery, night
after endless night, year after heartbreaking year, the pain never lessening,
because of how deeply in-love Dean was, and still is with the older man.
“You already know the answer to that, Cas.” He finally answers, bunching
Castiel’s collar in his fists and pulling him in for a crushing embrace.
“Having you near me,” he murmurs against Castiel’s cheek, an impassioned
declaration. “Seeing you every goddamn day…” he swears, running his hands up
and down his uncle’s sides. “That right there, is the best damn news I’ve ever
heard.” He pulls back for a kiss and holding Castiel’s gaze, whispers, “It’s
all I’ve ever wanted.”
And now, with the air between them completely cleared, all misunderstandings
set to rights and both firmly on the same page, they lunge.
They grab for each other, a frantic race, clambering aggressively for a
foothold, hands making quick work to rid the other of his shirt, to unfasten
belts, to yank down pants, until the thin cotton of their briefs is the only
thing separating them from complete nudity.
Dean pushes Castiel against the room’s wall and drops to his knees, hands
braced against his uncle’s thighs. “Fucking gorgeous, Cas.” He sighs, hungrily
ogling the large prize in front of him, mouth open when he leans forward to
kiss it.
“Mmpht! Dean!” Castiel moans head falling back and hitting the wall, hips
jerking when he feels his nephew’s hot breath ghost over his clothed erection,
letting loose an endless string of praise when Dean mouths over his briefs and
sucks wetly over the obvious outline of his cock, soaking the fabric.
Dean hums deep and throaty, greatly satisfied with his uncle’s enthusiastic
reactions, reaching down to snake his own dick from his shorts, pulling it out
and leaving it to hang hot and heavy over his underwear’s waistband.
“F-fuck…” Castiel hisses, his whole body shuddering with pleasure when Dean
pries open his brief’s fly and gently pulls out his cock, immediately fastening
his lips on the tip and curling his tongue around the shaft, taking all of
Castiel’s length until his lips are stretched obscenely wide and flush against
the fabric’s edge.
Castiel looks down and groans, the explicit sight of his cock slipping in and
out between his nephew’s stretched lips is enough to hasten his climax.
“Dean…stop…” he croaks, begs, raking his fingers through the teen’s hair and
coaxing him off.
“You’re so beautiful…so perfect.” Castiel says with more than a touch of
reverence, helping Dean up and holding him tightly while he showers his face
with kisses, growling low and rumbly when he tastes himself on Dean’s tongue.
Dean’s putty in his hands and Castiel easily steers him towards his bed,
turning them around so that he can scoot towards the top, and with his back to
the headboard, maneuvers Dean until he has a lapful of teenager.
“Mmm…Cas…” Dean sighs, lips mouthing the words against his uncle’s neck,
sitting up on his knees and wrapping his arms around Castiel’s shoulders,
huffing little sounds of pleasure when Castiel begins to prep his entrance.
“Fuck…yeah, just…ah…just like that…” he moans, words breaking with the addition
of more fingers.
Dean fucks himself on Castiel’s fingers until the need for more becomes urgent.
“More…m’ready.” He groans and with a nod from the older man, reaches down
between them to take his uncle’s cock. He positions the blunt end against his
hole and eases down, briefly recoiling from the exquisite pain, inhaling short
panicked gasps until his body adjusts around the overlarge girth.
“Are you alright?” Castiel asks softly, pressing their foreheads together,
tongue poking out to swipe wetly across the teen’s mouth.
“Mm…good.” Dean huffs and means it, slowly rising to his knees before slinking
back down with more confidence, the pain replaced with a pleasurable ache. He
rides Castiel, impaling himself with more fervor the more his body relaxes,
welcoming the stretch, basking in the burn, all the while kissing, open mouth,
slow and sensual, trading breaths, sharing their mingled flavors, drowning in
each other.
Castiel’s lightheaded, feels like he’s flying, completely surrounded by Dean,
closing his teeth around the teen’s throat and savoring the salt-tang of his
sweat-slicked skin, licking a path down his sternum, teeth grazing a nipple,
sucking on the sensitive flesh, rolling it between his teeth until it’s diamond
hard.
But it’s not enough and he wants more, wants to go deeper and fuck his nephew
harder, tear him apart with this cock and fill him with his cum, marking him,
until Dean’s saturated and leaking freely. “Dean…” he pants, eyes wild, teeth
bared. He picks his nephew up by the ass-cheeks and lets him drop, back first,
onto the bed.
“Ooompt! Fuck, Cas.” Dean grunts on impact and recognizing the aching want in
Castiel’s gaze, spreads his legs wider, like an offering, ripe and perfect for
his imperfect god.
Castiel growls appreciatively and shuffles closer, slotting into the vee of his
nephew’s spread thighs and mounts him. “Open your mouth.” Castiel says softly
leaning heavily over the teen, his weight forcing Dean’s knees up to his chest,
folding him in half, and kisses him.
Dean kisses back, desperate, rough and aggressive, crying out sharply when his
uncle reenters him in one swift slide.
“So…so good, good for me…” Castiel pants, ramming hard and fast into Dean’s
fucked out hole.
“Mmmmpht…fuck…yeah, come on…harder…” Dean goads, hips pistoning, meeting
Castiel thrust for thrust. “Guhhh…” he gasps, the new angle allowing Castile to
hit his prostate with exquisite precision.
Dean knows he's close, the weight of his orgasm low and heavy in his belly.
Toes curling when Castiel grabs his dick, cursing, soft and needy cries muffled
against his uncle’s shoulder. “Please…” he chokes out after another precise hit
to his prostate. “Cumming!” he warns, out of breath, and spills, mind whiting
out from the intensity.
It’s the most beautiful thing Castiel has ever seen, Dean writhing, climaxing,
coating their bodies with his semen. Castiel licks his lips, eyes fixed on
Dean’s, and cums, body shuddering, hips stuttering, cock pulsing, pumping Dean
full of his release.
…
“Dean, I can feel you thinking.” Castiel says in a low voice, murmuring the
words against the teen’s temple.
They’re still in Castiel’s bed, Dean draped over the older man, limbs loose and
heavy from their climax, ruined sheets wrapped carelessly over their naked
bodies.
“Hm?”
Castiel angles his neck for a better look at his nephew’s face. “Don’t ‘hm’ me.
I thought we agreed no more holding back.” He resettles into his previous
position, chin resting on top of Dean’s head, fingers caressing Dean’s
shoulder. “No more secrets, right.”
Dean shifts until he’s lying on his belly and props himself on his elbows. He
doesn’t reply immediately, instead takes a moment to carefully consider his
thoughts and how to express them. “It’s just…” he starts haltingly, forcing
himself to stay focused and not get lost in one of their epic staring contests.
All of that ‘gazing deeply and meaningfully into each other’s eyes to
communicate without words’ or such shit, never worked for them before, and if
they really are going to do this the right way, then he’s going to go for the
honest, verbal, approach.
God help him.
“I-“ he swallows, trying to moisten his suddenly parched throat. “I can’t
believe this is really happening. I mean, fuck, Cas, you,” he jabs a finger
against Castiel’s chest. “Me, us, this…like it’s a real thing. You and me,
we’re gonna be a couple.”
“Yes and no, Dean.” Castiel says, and of course doesn’t bother to elaborate any
further, leveling Dean instead with his damn expressive and intense-as-hell
gaze.
But after a too long period of actually not speaking, Dean bites back a smirk
and prods him.
“Yeah, okay, so care to share with the rest of the class?”
“Oh, of course, my apologies. What I meant to say is that yes, you and I are
now a couple, because this, what we have here, what I hope to build with you,
is…real. However,” this time instead of just his unwavering gaze, he adds
weight to his words by cupping Dean’s jaw. “And I cannot stress this enough, we
must, for both of our sakes, keep this a secret. Do you understand?”
“Understand? What, like you’re embarrassed of me or something?”
Castiel huffs and looks up, about as dramatic an eye roll as Dean’s ever seen
from him. “Dean, no, of course not.” he answers. “You know better than to think
that. Think, Dean. One, you are still a minor-“
“I’ll be eighteen in seven months!” Dean immediately supplies.
“Yes, but until then, still a minor. But that’s not the most serious strike
against our…bond, Dean. We’re related. And if your parents find-“
Dean jumps in and again interrupts Castiel, but this time along with his
argument, adds a large smug grin. “Cas, you know that’s not entirely true. Hm?
Dude, did you forget that you’re adopted, duh! We’re not blood relatives. So no
excuses, once I’m of age, I’m allowed to show you off and-“
“Dean, I want this as much, if not more so, than you. But I’m not as confident
as you are in your parents acceptance to our…new status.”
“Pfffst,” the teen scoffs and to emphasize his casual attitude towards their
‘dilemma’, leans over to plant a kiss on his uncle’s nose. “Look, I’m done
hiding, okay. No more secrets, no more lying. I’m telling mom and dad as soon
as I’m old enough.” He explains matter-of-fact. “And, well, I really don’t give
a shit about anybody else. Except for Sam and Adam, of course, but I’m sure
they’ll be fine with this. So…” he leans forward, eyes wide and tone serious.
“Do we understand each other here? Because whether you like it or not, we’re
gonna be a legitimate couple and no one, not even you, will be able-“
Castiel leaps on his nephew (on his Dean, his Dean) urging the teen’s tongue
into his mouth in an effort to distract him and hopefully put an end to Dean’s
endless stream of complaints and arguments on their current state of affairs.
And even though Castiel is not entirely comfortable with Dean’s justifications,
at least for the moment, he is more than willing to adjust and adapt if it
means keeping Dean safe and happy.
“So, guess we better get used to this, huh?” Dean adds once they break for air.
“Yes…to this,” Castiel readily agrees. “And to this,” he adds cupping Dean’s
burgeoning erection. “And this,” he continues, and climbs on top of the teen,
falling neatly between his thighs. “And-“ he stops short, point already
perfectly clear when Dean takes his cock and guides it between his cheeks,
where it slips effortlessly into his still-stretched-hole with a delicious roll
from Castiel’s hips.
…
Afterwards, while still basking in the afterglow of their mutual satisfaction,
the two newly minted lovers discuss their future in earnest.
They talk about what they’ll do upon John and Mary’s return, about Castiel
putting his apartment up for sale now that Dean’s given him his blessing, and
on how to approach Sam and Adam. But most worrisome, and something they discuss
in length, is their unavoidable separation when Castiel leaves and Dean stays
behind to finish the rest of his school year, and how they’ll handle it.
But Dean’s not worried. Because even though he can’t wait until Castiel becomes
a permanent fixture in his school and his life, they have the whole summer
ahead of them, and the man only lives an hour away, and for Dean it’s just
another awesome excuse to drive his baby to visit his boyfriend.
So what started out as the worst week of Dean’s life quickly turned out to be
the best ever. This right here and right now, with Castiel tucked tightly
against him, all octopus limbs, hair tickling under Dean’s nose, and the
promise of a real future together, is more than Dean ever hoped for, and
everything he always wanted.
End Notes
     I got the idea for this the other day when 'UNCLE BUCK' was on cable.
     So yeah, I basically took a sweet story about a down and out uncle
     helping his family and twisted it into a sort-of-incestuous tale,
     urgh, I need help!
     ^_-
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