Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7084834.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Meg_Masters
  Character:
      Castiel, Meg_Masters
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Catholic_School, Virgin_Meg, Teacher_Castiel,
      Underage_Sex, Age_Difference, Loss_of_Virginity
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-04 Words: 3810
****** like water against stone ******
by bloodandcream
Summary
     The first time that she’d approached him after class, forever ago it
     seemed now, Castiel had merely thought she were attempting to rebel
     with the top few buttons of her uniform blouse undone. It hadn’t even
     crossed his mind as she leaned over the desk that she had done it
     just for him. For his attention.
The sharp floral smell of her perfume was familiar by now, stinging his nose
just a little as she crowded him back against the blackboard. Too comfortable
being overly familiar - daring - with him, but he had failed to discourage her,
and he had never reported it as she grew bolder through the year.
“So what do you think, might actually make a ‘B’ this year, huh?”
Placing a hand on her shoulder and firmly pushing her back, Castiel did his
best to scowl. “If you put effort into your essay and study for the final test,
I am sure you will have no problem earning that ‘B’, Meg.”
She still stood toe to toe with him, one hand reaching up to flip his tie that
had gotten twisted around backwards again. “Couldn’t have done it without you,
Professor.”
Castiel nudged her shoulder more insistently, and slipped from between the
blackboard and her. “I am here to help.”
Striding back to his desk, he straightened the papers he’d been grading during
the after-school tutoring session. There were other students that attended, not
only those doing poorly but those in the mediocre range striving to improve. He
was happy to stay late to help. But as usual, Meg had lingered as everyone else
eagerly left.
Sliding folders into his bag, Castiel felt a small hand settle on his shoulder.
He shrugged her off. “But it’s been your hard work that’s made your improvement
possible.” Turning towards her, now boxed in against his desk, Castiel sighed.
“Meg, I am glad you’ve put effort in.”
It wasn’t unusual for a student to develop a crush on him, it happened most
years, working in the all-girl Catholic school, St. Sebastian’s. A firm
warning, a stern reprimand, always turned them away. Meg, apparently had taken
it as a challenge. Castiel was loathe to report the ill behavior if he could
handle it swiftly with a warning. Meg had breezed right past all his
admonishments. She may have truly thought she could flirt her way to a better
grade at the start of the year, but when she figured out that it wouldn’t work
she had surprised him by actually applying herself, steadily raising her grade
herself, completing bonus assignments and attending tutoring sessions.
Even if the after school tutoring were simply a ruse to dawdle afterward and
try to get him alone.
“Well gosh, don’t you know how to make a girl blush, saying nice things like
that.”
Reaching for the last folder of messy student papers, Meg snatched it before he
could, twirling and hopping to sit perched on the corner of the desk. Holding
it in her lap. Castiel narrowed his eyes at her and held his hand out. Waited.
Meg’s default expression, it seemed, was a sly grin designed to irritate him.
She held the file close to her chest.
The first time that she’d approached him after class, forever ago it seemed
now, Castiel had merely thought she were attempting to rebel with the top few
buttons of her uniform blouse undone. It hadn’t even crossed his mind as she
leaned over the desk that she had done it just for him. For his attention.
There was no mistaking her intention anymore. Legs spread and her pleated skirt
riding up, heels of her flat Mary-Jane shoes tapping the desk, Meg bit her lip
and watched him. Castiel took the folder from her at arms length, stuffed it
into his bag with the rest, and zipped it.
“Aren’t you going to do something nice for me, for being so good?”
Meg pouted at him, head tipped back, long wavy hair draped over her shoulders
and the top few buttons of her shirt undone again.
Castiel straightened and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “The
satisfaction of a good grade should be reward enough, and I’m sure your parents
will be very proud.”
The arrogant mask of a young girl trying to hard to be something she doesn’t
understand slipped briefly, Meg’s expression darkening when she told him, “They
don’t really care,” but then she was in his space again and as Castiel backed
up until his knees hit the edge of his chair. He stumbled.
Accustomed to her brazen flirtation, Meg had held her advances steady and
perhaps it was his fault for assuming her to only be interested in toying with
him anymore, but Castiel didn’t expect for her to lift a knee to the arm of the
simple wooden chair. Looking to the side sharply, he squinted at the math
equations on the chalkboard.
The second advance that Meg had made on him had been a pair of - used, he knew,
he had kept them because he didn’t know what else to do with them - white
cotton panties she’d stuffed in his bag while he was distracted. He should have
reported her behavior then, should have realized he was not in control of the
situation, but there were so many doubts pressing upon him. What light he might
be viewed in, Headmistress Naomi bore him no good will, what light Meg might be
viewed in, she was just a child and he was so afraid to hurt her. It was
reckless to think that by denying her attention she’d simply lose interest. If
anything it only seemed to spur her further.
Lithe fingers stroked along the edge of his jaw, and in turning from it,
Castiel turned his gaze back towards her. The smooth creamy skin of her thigh
at eye level, skirt rucked up, white panties. Closing his eyes, he took a deep
breath.
“Meg, I know that you understand this is completely inappropriate behavior.”
Her hand slid around to the back of his neck as she leaned in closer, smug
smile stretching her lips, “So why haven’t you told anyone?”
She knew damn well why. The third advance that she had made had been amateur
photographs printed out on computer paper taken under her desk, legs spread,
panties pulled to the side. She’d tucked these papers into his bag. Like the
panties had been. He had been enraged, ready to storm to Naomi and put an end
to it. Meg had smiled at him after school, when he’d found them, shrugged and
asked him who people would think had taken those pictures.
Castiel should have burned them.
He can still remember the intensity of his orgasm, at home, the photographs
wrinkled from throwing the papers away, taken out and smoothed on his coffee
table, just black and white but oh how vividly could he see in his mind’s eye
what she offered so unashamedly to him.
“Meg. Go home.”
It came out a lot weaker than he meant. Did it sound as pleading to her as it
did to him?
Her knee slipped from the arm-rest, the other folding up, straddling his thighs
and she was barely a weight in his lap. Warm. Sting of her perfume in his nose.
Fingernails scratching light through his hair.
“Why would I do that?”
Sophomore class. She must be seventeen. No, maybe sixteen. Probably seventeen.
Castiel was pushing close to forty. She could be his daughter. If he had ever
had a wife, ever had a woman who came remotely close. He could count on one
hand, how many times he’d failed.
“Please just go.”
His eyes were still squeezed shut to the sight of her leaning in, lips ghosting
over his cheek. He tried to think how he had gotten here. There were steps,
moments of indecision he should have come down harder on. He had never though
his will would waver though, however he handled the matter. He never thought he
could be tempted like this.
She’d worn away at him, like water against stone.
He didn’t think Meg had the patience in her. Slow, insidious. Could he count
the steps of every layer worn away. There were less than he thought. It was
almost terrifying.
When she rolled her hips gently, Castiel felt shame burn through him as his
cock swelled. A shiver tripped down his spine and her fingers were cradling his
head so sweetly as she brushed soft lips against him. Castiel gasped and
clenched his jaw.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
That was wrong. In a month she’d be out of his class and Castiel could wash his
hands of this. He should push her away and leave her behind. Go home to his
quiet studio apartment. Water the plants. Grade papers.
Pray.
When Meg’s hands pulled back, Castiel drew in a shuddering breath and opened
his eyes. Still perched in his lap, she watched him as she unbuttoned her
shirt. He couldn’t seem to control his eyes as they flicked down, tracked the
movement of slender hands, white starched shirt parting, the swell of her chest
modest and alluring. When he looked back up again, pretty brown eyes gleamed
and Meg licked her lips in obvious invitation.
Flushed with heat and drowning in shame, Castiel clutched the arms of the
chair. He could find no inner wells of strength, no decency. How could he even
call himself a man, if he were so weak.
Curling an arm around her waist, Castiel held her. Meg softly sighed, but as
soon as he lifted her up and stood she squeaked indignantly.
“Hey!”
But he was across the room to the door.
“You can’t just-“
Slamming it shut. Locking it. Ripping a poster from the wall, he pressed the
used tape to the door, laying it over the small window. Blocking it out.
Castiel could feel himself shake with nerves, and when he turned back around,
Meg looked almost as shocked as he did. It barely took her a second before
she’d adopted her usual relaxed posture of self-assuredness, shrugging out of
her shirt and hopping back up to sit on the desk with her legs spread.
Castiel was in front of her without registering that he had moved. Once he
stood between her knees though, he went still again. Frozen. Watching like this
wasn’t his life. Couldn’t possibly be. Passiveness in these matters was as much
an action as reaching for her. He was wrong, he was wrong he was wrong -
Forgive her Father.
There was a crucifix on the wall beside the door, next to the clock. The second
hand ticked loudly in the empty classroom. Almost seven p.m.
Startled abruptly out of his haze, Castiel jerked when Meg reached for his
belt. Opened his pants. Palmed at his erection through his boxers. Pushed those
down as well. Skin to skin, so warm. Placing his hands on her shoulders,
Castiel leaned in. Meg stroked his cock and hummed against his neck where she
kissed him.
Six years. It had been six years since Castiel had been with another woman. He
figured that abstinence suited him more after April. Apparently, his cock would
beg to differ. He knew better than this. All the responsibility of this
situation - spiraled so out of control he couldn’t even see what depths they
were headed for - it lay upon his shoulders. Castiel still rocked into her
hand, turned his face to catch her lips, kiss her. Meg whimpered at the touch,
the first reciprocation in the long, patient game she played. Castiel circled
his arms around her shoulders, this young girl’s shoulders, and he kissed her.
Tentative at first, and he never would have figured her for shy, he licked past
her lips and slid his palms down the curve of her back. Skin warm to touch,
with a flick her bra was undone, fingers dragging down the furrow of her spine.
Meg squeezed her hand around his cock, bit at his lip. There was heat in his
veins and a narrow, insistent pressure in his mind. He couldn’t focus. It was
all a wash of prickling sensation scraping him raw. Think. Just.
Pulling back, Castiel grasped her narrow waist and jerked Meg off the desk,
flipped her around and pressed her down again. He was so accustomed to her
always having a retort, something smartass to say to him, something to goad
him, that this wordlessness confused him. Castiel did not feel a part of his
own body though. There was a detachment. A resignation.
Flipping her skirt up, Castiel slid his erection between the apex of her
thighs, wet and heated, slid between the folds of her labia.
Wavy brown hair tossed to the side Meg glanced over her shoulder at him.
Castiel hefted her hips up, tip toes. How long had she been begging for this,
how long had she teased and toyed and he was a weak, sick man.
“It won’t…” Meg whimpered and braced against the desk, “It won’t hurt, will
it?”
His breath seized in his chest and there was a moment of lapse. “Meg, you
aren’t, are you…”
“I’ve never…”
She lifted a knee to the desk, widened her stance, pushed back. But here eyes
were huge and wet, watching, and was that worry there. Castiel splayed a hand
against her backside, soothed down her thigh.
“Never?”
“No.”
There were so many things he could do to make this better. Not right. Never,
really. But better, for her, young and tender and what was he even doing.
Instead, Castiel sank to his knees.
Weak.
Buried his face between her thighs.
She tasted of forbidden fruit, honey sweet sin, dripping wet and the soft pink
of her against his tongue had his eyes rolling back. Shivering and gasping, Meg
pushed her hips back against him as she spread her legs wider. He was a man
possessed. Parched ascetic of the dessert denied so long and so confident in
his conviction. How easily it was scattered like sand once he broke.
Spreading his hands across the backs of her thighs, Castiel stroked smooth skin
and licked up the slit, tongue deeper and circled around the delicate bundle
like a flower bud blossoming.
His cock bounced up against his stomach, hard and aching. He’d never hated the
thing more. She didn’t deserve this. What did she deserve. To lose her
virginity on her wedding night to a marriage either of youthful naivety that
knew no better or convenience arranged by parents who thought they knew better.
What did she deserve. To preserve herself in the eyes of the Lord. To maintain
her purity and innocence. Was it not his responsibility; to protect her.
Lapping at the tender skin that parted by his tongue, Castiel groaned and
resigned himself.
“I won’t hurt you.”
It was a lie.
Nothing good could come of this, and though he might give her what she thought
she wanted bodily, this wasn’t what she needed. She didn’t have the experience
and the temperance of age to judge her own actions. He should. He did. They
were all scattered.
Stroking a hand down her thigh, knee-high white sock soft to the touch, along
the curve of her calf and up again, backs of his knuckles brushing smooth skin,
Castiel pressed his fingers to her sex. Curled hair framing pink, unfolding to
him, dripping wet of his saliva. Thin spun sugar, she melted under his tongue.
A single digit sunk in so easily, his tongue lapping around the stretch of her
body, gentle, insistent. Meg shuddered and shifted her weight.
Castiel pressed his forehead to the crease of her buttock, soothed his lips
over her skin. Her body clutched hot and tight around his fingers. His cock
twitched.
“Please.”
Castiel rocked back on his heels.
“Please, Professor Novak, please…”
Rising on the balls of his feet, Castiel soothed a hand along the stretch of
her back. Wavy dark hair fanned to one side, Meg watching over her shoulder.
Bra straps fallen over her shoulders. Skirt bunched around her waist. His
student. Spread across his desk.
Would it be any less a sin to stop now.
Framing slender waist with his hands, Castiel pulled her up. Spun her around.
Meg lay back on the desk, hands holding her skirt up, bright eyes tracking his
every movement. Castiel’s tie was still fixed, every button of his shirt done,
red head of his cock jutting out obscenely.
The loud tick of the second hand on the clock subsumed her heavy breathing. The
squeak of skin on wood as she pushed herself up on his desk. White panties
pulled to the side, one sock fallen down around an ankle.
He was ready to bolt when she pulled her undone bra off, pulled a foil condom
wrapper that had stuck to the skin of her breast with sweat and offered it to
him.
“I’m not stupid, you know.”
Defiant. Challenging. He was supposed to know better. This wasn’t a game. A cry
for attention. Maybe. A disturbed young girl. He should tell the counselor.
Meg gripped his arm, nails digging in sharp, pressed the stiff foil to his
palm.
Castiel found it hard to breathe. Rolling the condom on, he watched as she
reclined on the desk, cupped a breast and squeezed, slid her own fingers down
along the slit of her pussy. Imitation. Play pretend. She couldn’t know. He was
ill. Corrupt.
Curling over her, Castiel pressed the head of his cock to her and kissed her
lips. Like anything about this was the intimacy a couple should share. “Wrap
your legs around me.”
She obeyed.
Ankles clasped in the small of his back, firm muscle, sculpted youth yet to
wilt, Meg encircled him with her legs and her arms, pulled him closer to her
warmth, pulled him in. With a firm steady insistence - the sort he should of
discouraged her with - Castiel sunk into the clutch of her body. Meg whimpered
beneath him. Chest heaving. Dropping his head to kiss her brow, her cheek, her
lips, Castiel trailed a meandering path of delicate kisses down the curve of
her chest, closed his mouth over the peak of a stiff nipple.
Arching up and crying in a stuttered whine, Meg curled her hands in his shirt
and jerked in his hold. Muttered a litany of obscenities, blasphemies against
the Lord, things absolutely vulgar to hear from a young girl and they sputtered
across her lips easily. Castiel braced his hands on the desk to either side of
her head, soft hair tangled under his palms, fucked into her with measured
shallow thrusts, felt the pulse of her heart under his lips as he mouthed over
her chest.
There was still a tight coil of shame low in his gut, burning away by the
pulses of arousal lapping through him. Sliding a hand down her thigh, lifting a
leg higher, Castiel pulled her to the edge of the desk and snapped his hips in
deep. Sweet thing, delicate thing, she only clung to him tighter and fisted a
hand in his short hair, held him to her breast, mumbled as she juddered and
rolled her hips against his, filthy and wicked.
Overwhelmed, all Castiel could hope for was to end this swiftly. Would she be
sated with what he gave her. Would she want more. He couldn’t face another
month with her gaze, her hunger, focused on him. He had nowhere to turn.
Mapping the spread of her body with broad hands, Castiel dragged his fingers
over her thighs, up along her quivering stomach, dipped across her hips, sunk
between her legs and pressed against the apex of her vulva. He wasn’t entirely
sure if he could find what he meant, all his previous lovers - if he could call
them that - disdainful and distant. When Meg groaned and tightened her thighs
her around him, Castiel circled his fingers around plump flesh, rubbed the pad
of his thumb there as he shoved his hips in, hoped he was good enough. Meg
pulled him up by the hair, rough and demanding, sucked at his mouth like she
were trying to steal his breath.
Too loud, too much. Castiel clapped a hand over her mouth. One on her face, one
between her legs, cock working into her. Meg cried and trembled, channel
seizing around him, pulling him deeper, deeper, like he needed to be sunk any
more into this mire. It was heaven. Bliss on earth. Sin designed to ensnare and
he was gone.
Shaking apart and heaving as he fucked every admonishment, every reproach,
every prayer into her body like it was the source of divinity he sought council
with, Castiel buried his face in her neck and sobbed out his release.
Long, slender fingers ghosted gently over his shoulder, rustling across the
shirt he still wore, toes still in her socks - shoes kicked off, it seemed -
rubbing the backs of his calves. She hummed. Sounded completely satisfied and
content. Castiel was cold.
“I knew you had it in you.”
Any hesitation she had shown was a distant memory.
“Don’t…”
Castiel wasn’t entirely clear on what he was trying to tell her not to do. The
lines had been crossed, irrevocably. More than misguided flirtation and the
naivety of youth. More than his idiotic desire to simply let her spill her
hormones out and be done with it.
He had no authority here. Not any more.
Pulling out with a grimace, pants buckled up before even removing the condom,
Castiel grabbed his coat where it had been dropped and wrapped it around
himself, fumbling for his bag, for anything.
“You don’t do this much, do you?”
There was teasing in her voice.
Castiel turned a reproachful eye on her, harsher than he meant to be, “And you
do?”
Meg pursed her lips at him, “No need to be mean about it. Wasn’t that fun?”
Scooting off the desk, skirt falling down, she pulled her bra back on and cast
about for her shirt. There was a vulnerability in her close, tight movements,
that Castiel hardly ever saw on the young girl. He had done that. Oh God what
penance must he pay, he had done that.
“Meg.” His voice was cold. “Go home.”
Pouting, she fiddled with the buttons of her shirt, combed her fingers through
messy hair, shifted her weight and there was still the bloom of a bright flush
on her cheeks. A flower not even blossomed, oh God what had he done.
“Fine.” She turned her shoulder to him then.
He could tell her to seek counsel in the church, with her parents, anyone
really but himself. It wasn’t her that needed it most though, was it.
There was only one answer Castiel could find as he slung his bag over his
shoulder, pulled the poster from the window and replaced it on the wall, held
the door open for Meg as she glared at him and left. Only one thing to do.
He needed to leave. He needed to be far, far away from her.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!