Chapter Text
Castiel had spent the first two nights at his brother’s, invading Gabriel’s space with a bad attitude and no explanation.
“It’s not that I’m unhappy you’re visiting, Cassie, but you’ve been about as much fun as a stripper with an inner ear infection,” Gabriel complained from his reclining position on the couch. He tossed the apple he was supposed to be eating into the air and caught it.
“What are you talking about?” Castiel asked, from the armchair he was sitting in with his laptop in front of him.
“Balance, little bro. She’d be falling over.”
Unamused, Castiel spared his brother an annoyed look.
“Actually, that would be kind of fun,” Gabriel continued thoughtfully.
Castiel sighed.
“I got the joke, Gabe. I meant me. I’m no less fun than normal,” Castiel insisted.
“Oh, please. You’re never the life of the party, Cassie, but you’ve been channeling Vader like levels of killjoy power ever since you walked in the door. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Uh huh.”
“Dean… Dean and I had a fight. I just needed a break from him.”
“I thought you liked this guy?”
Castiel snorted.
“I did. Doesn’t mean I can’t be angry with him. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”
“Sneaking home while he’s at work, huh?” Gabriel winked knowingly at him.
Rolling his eyes, Castiel returned his attention to his laptop. Gabriel was never serious, but he could still scent bullshit like a bloodhound. Castiel hated it.
Back at the apartment, Castiel wore clothing even while Dean was out. He didn’t like it, but when he thought of taking them off he remembered that Dean had essentially accused him of flaunting himself and that wasn’t—that was never his intention.
He installed a lock on his bedroom door, but he didn’t really expect to need it. Apart from that… incident, Dean had always respected his privacy. It was just for a little peace of mind. Now he could continue sleeping in the nude without having to worry.
The first couple days he was back, Dean kept his distance, taking in Castiel’s clothed appearance with a raised eyebrow. Castiel saw there was something Dean wanted to say every time they crossed paths. It was in the way Dean would purse his lips and then press them tightly together as if reconsidering with a barely there nod to himself.
Dean tried to apologize, but he wasn’t very good at it. For all his nonchalance in regular conversation his attempts to make amends were clunky and Castiel usually cut him off before he got very far. Though Dean appeared sincere, he didn’t seem entirely confident about what he was apologizing for. If anything it sounded like he was sorry that Castiel was upset with him.
Eventually he got it more or less right. Castiel often had tea in the evening and Dean brought him a steaming mug after dinner one night, pressing the ceramic into his hands and launching into it without preamble.
“Cas. Look, I was wrong. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Dean said, lifting his hand from his hip and waving it in a small placating gesture for emphasis. “I know you’re pissed. I get that, but maybe we could just, I dunno, forget it? Go back to the way things were, ya know?”
He was glad Dean didn’t say he regretted it, because Castiel wouldn’t have believed that. And it was best he didn’t apologize for the action itself—it’s not like Dean could claim that he fucked him by accident or something, like he didn’t mean to. It was no secret that Dean enjoyed it—that they both did. The evidence had been all over the couch and between Castiel’s thighs. He had no idea what to do with that information. So far Castiel had settled for ignoring it.
Without sipping the tea, Castiel set it down, fiddling absently at his collar in irritation. He found himself agreeing.
“Yes. Fine. Let’s just move past it, continue as roommates,” he suggested as Dean nodded in relief.
“Awesome. Thanks, Cas,” Dean grinned widely and dropped onto the other end of the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.
Castiel fidgeted, tugging at the leg of his pants.
“You don’t have to wear the clothes, Cas. Hell, I’m surprised you even have this many pairs of pants. Thought you’d run out by, like, day three."
Pulling up Netflix, Dean started clicking through shows recommended according to Castiel’s preferences, wondering aloud which might be most worthwhile to watch. Not sure he could stand more reconciliatory efforts, Castiel excused himself. Ignoring Dean’s hurt expression, he dumped out the tea and retreated to his room. They could be roommates without being friends.
By far the worst part about everything was that Castiel couldn’t seem to forget how Dean had made him come harder than he ever had before. As much as he had hated waking to the violation, it clearly worked for him on some level because he hadn’t even realized that coming untouched was a thing and yet somehow he had still gone off with a bang.
That alone might not have been such a problem, but Castiel couldn’t seem to replicate the pleasure. Fingering himself was awkward and uncomfortable. Castiel struggled to get the angles right. He knew Dean must have started that way, but Castiel had been asleep and didn’t remember that part. That train of thought only pissed him off and his stroking would turn frustrated as his patience disappeared and release danced further from his grasp. It wasn’t the same at all when he finally came.
An evening a couple days after Dean’s apology, Castiel unlocked the door to the apartment to find Dean playing ping pong alone at the dining table, bouncing the ball against the wall, naked. He spun around as Castiel shut the door, raising the paddle in greeting. Castiel felt himself flush as he took in all the parts of Dean he’d never seen before, which was most of them.
“Heya, Cas!”
A broad grin lit up Dean’s face and he waggled his eyebrows at Castiel who was standing, a bit shocked, at the door. Carefully returning his eyes to Dean’s face, Castiel moved into the room.
“Hello, Dean.”
“Wanna play?” Dean tossed the paddle from one hand to the other, expression open and inviting. Castiel wanted to smack that charming smile right off his face, but he settled for continuing past Dean into the kitchen with his bag of groceries and a brusque, ‘no.’
Haphazardly shoving things into cupboards, Castiel felt like he couldn’t think straight as Dean watched him from the entrance. This wasn’t normal behavior for Dean. Castiel hadn’t even seen him with his shirt off before. Since they didn’t share a bathroom and their schedules didn’t quite align, it had just never happened. Figures that he’d be ridiculously good looking.
Dean leaned against the door frame with a casual elegance that Castiel was certain he could never duplicate. The man was so assured in his movements. Even naked, in some juvenile and misguided attempt to mitigate the seriousness of his offense, he was confident.
“You know you just put cereal in the fridge, right?”
Slamming the door shut, Castiel turned to Dean.
“Why are you naked, Dean? Are you making fun of me?” Castiel demanded, pleased to see Dean’s easy grin replaced with surprised confusion.
“What!? No. C’mon, Cas, don’t be like that.”
“Be like what, Dean? Conscious? Aware of my surroundings?”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, I deserve that, but I wasn’t making fun of you. I was trying to make you laugh. You haven’t smiled all week.”
“Maybe you should have worried about me before you decided you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”
Dean had the gall to look offended as he went on the defensive.
“Dude. I apologized… and besides, you did like it.”
“Go to hell,” Castiel said, brushing past him and locking himself in his room.
Castiel wasn’t expecting to see Dean naked again, but he did the very next night. The sugary scent of baked goods greeted Castiel as he entered the apartment and Dean called his name before popping out of the kitchen with an absurdly large smile on his face. He was naked except for red oven mitts and a jaunty chef’s hat perched on his head. Castiel fought against the quirk of his lips, wondering where Dean had gotten the hat.
“Check it out, Cas, I made apology cupcakes,” Dean said, waving him forward with a slightly burnt mitt before disappearing back into the kitchen.
When Castiel got there, Dean was gesturing to a tray of cupcakes with chocolate icing and a green letter on each one that spelled out: SORRY IM AN ASS
“Huh? What do you think? I made them myself.”
“I can see that,” Castiel said, observing the mess and the slightly melting frosting.
“If I rearrange the letters it can also say, ‘Mars is so yarn,’” Dean revealed.
“Meaning?”
“Oh, I dunno, nothing. Just… anagrams, you know?” Dean shrugged, swiping his finger along the bottom of a bowl and licking a blob of chocolate icing off. There was powdered sugar on his forehead. Castiel realized he was watching Dean and snapped his attention back to the cupcakes.
“You’ll eat some right? If I eat them all I’ll be sick.”
“Sure, Dean. They, um, they’re the best looking apology cupcakes I’ve ever seen,” Castiel assured him.
Dean beamed at him and Castiel found it very hard not to smile back.
Only a couple of hours later, Castiel was cursing his reluctant acceptance of Dean’s apology. The cupcakes had been decent, but not worth this. It was all Dean’s fault that he was changing position yet again as he shallowly thrust three fingers inside himself. He had thought that taking it slow and finally being comfortable enough for three would get him where he wanted to be, but it wasn’t enough. It was so far from the fullness he needed. He groaned in frustration
Fuck Dean Winchester. It was bad enough he’d already had to buy different lube that was evidently better for anal play, but now Castiel was going to have to buy a dildo to get off the way he wanted to, because his fingers and these angles just weren’t cutting it. Masturbating used to be so simple. His damn roommate had to go and ruin it.
Desperate to get Dean off his mind, Castiel tried to conjure up the usual repertoire of mental images that he called upon while masturbating, but none of them lent themselves well to his current activity. He had to think about Dean. Had to think about the confident, gorgeous asshole who had pushed him into the couch and fucked him until he was weak in the knees and biting the cushions to keep quiet. The bastard had looked so good in the kitchen sans clothing, too. It wasn’t fair.
Castiel covered his face with a hand. This wasn’t working. He needed more than his own inadequate fingers and Dean owed him. Lube was all Castiel bothered to bring with him as he stalked down the hall with one clear purpose. Dean wasn’t in the living room so Castiel just barged into his bedroom without a care. They’d both seen everything already anyway.
There was a flurry of movement from the bed as Dean yanked a sheet over his bare legs. Castiel stopped in his tracks, suddenly suspicious. Their rooms were right next to each other.
“Were you listening to me and masturbating?”
Dean propped himself up on his elbows, raising his eyebrows as he took in Castiel’s flush and renewed nudity. A grin crept onto his face when he spotted the lube.
“Ah, well, I couldn’t have been listening that closely if you were able to sneak up on me,” Dean winked at him, completely unabashed.
In a few quick strides, Castiel crossed the room, tossed the sheet aside, and clambered on top of Dean, shoving him back onto the mattress when he started to sit up.
“If you need help, Cas, this isn’t the way to ask,” Dean lectured, while Castiel knelt over him and squeezed lube into his hand.
“I need you to shut up,” Castiel said, taking hold of Dean and stroking him roughly. Dean was already pretty aroused and hardened further under Castiel’s single-minded efforts.
Helping himself to the lube, Dean brought his fingers to prod as Castiel’s hole, slipping two in easily and making his roommate gasp.
“Shit, you started without me.” Dean smirked, pushing his fingers deeper into Castiel. “You been itching for it this whole time, Cas? You only had to ask, ya know.”
Castiel smothered a pillow over Dean and his big mouth, biting his lip once he couldn’t be seen. Dean’s fingers must have been thicker than his, two were already feeling so good.
“Shut up. I don’t want to look at your ugly face.”
Dean laughed from under the pillow before tossing it aside.
“Please, Cas, you’re a terrible liar. At least try to make them remotely believable. Lies should have some basis in reality.”
Pressing a third finger alongside the others, Dean licked his lips, gazing up at Castiel who had shut his eyes and faltered in his stroking.
“Are we gonna pretend that you weren’t in your room just now, trying to open yourself up, and thinking about how much you loved it when I fucked you?” Dean asked, as Castiel pushed back onto his fingers.
Attempting to ignore Dean’s words, Castiel wondered how the man was so much better at this than he was. Dean was able to press in deeper and was rubbing at the rim with his thumb at the same time. The stretching and plunging to new depths was so much better than what he had been able to achieve on his own, but it wasn’t enough.
“No more fingers,” Castiel said, ceasing his backwards rocking. He felt Dean hook his fingers along his rim, spreading him as he pulled them slowly out.
Dean was hard and dripping in Castiel’s hand as he shifted and lined Dean up at his entrance. Steadying himself with a hand on Dean’s chest, Castiel focused on the delicious stretch and muted burn as he lowered himself over the bulbous head.
“Fuck, Cas, you’re just as tight as before,” Dean said, as he laid his hands on Castiel’s hips, helping to guide him downward.
Castiel ran a hand through his messy hair as he slowly took Dean in, dragging his palm over his chest and biting his lip as Dean filled him up. This was what he needed.
“You look so good, Cas,” Dean murmured as Castiel started sliding forward. Tucking a hand behind his head, Dean got ready to enjoy the show. “You like being stuffed full of my cock? Need me fucking into you if you wanna come.”
Stretching his arm to touch Castiel’s chest, Dean laughed when his roommate knocked his hand away. Castiel threw his hands behind him, leaning away from Dean and arching his back as he set the pace, lifting his pelvis and sliding up and down around Dean.
“What? Can’t I touch you?”
“You’re here for one purpose, Dean. I need to get off. It’s my turn to take what I want. So be quiet and keep your hands to yourself.”
Never one to back down from a challenge, Dean chuckled and took Castiel lightly in his hand. Castiel’s eyes snapped open as Dean thumbed over the head of his cock.
“So I shouldn’t do this?” Dean questioned lowly, stroking him with a triumphant smirk.
“No. Not necessary.” Castiel replied, catching hold of both his wrists and squeezing Dean without halting his movements.
“Fuuhh—fuck!”
Dean gasped as Castiel folded his arms on top of each other and tucked them to his chest. Concentrating his weight into pinning Dean’s hands down, Castiel braced his arms and rode him harder. Tilting himself slightly forward, Castiel hit the perfect angle and he ground himself down into Dean’s lap, moaning as tremors of pleasure spiked through him.
“Aw, yeah, Cas, you gonna come untouched again? All you need is my big dick, right? Splitting you open while you ride me.”
Castiel leaned over Dean, licking his lips as he repeatedly drove himself fervently forward, pushing Dean into the mattress in the process.
“Don’t you ever shut up?”
“Shut me up with your mouth,” Dean countered.
Flitting his eyes to Dean’s lips, Castiel considered. He ducked his head closer, almost brushing Dean’s pillowy looking lips, but pulling just out of reach when his roommate tried to close the distance.
“You want me to kiss your filthy mouth, Dean? Is that what you want,” Castiel growled.
“God, yes,” Dean gasped, straining upwards and twisting his arms in a half-hearted attempt to free them.
“Ask nicely.”
“Please, Cas, please kiss me, I want your mouth all over me. Wanna touch you.”
Releasing Dean’s wrists, Castiel kissed him forcefully. With one hand at his throat and the other grasping at his short hair, Castiel angled his head and was finally able to shut Dean up with his tongue. Castiel enjoyed the silence and the heat sparking low in his groin and building with every thrust.
The bed creaking, the flump of the mattress and smack of skin seemed louder without Dean running his mouth. Dean’s liberated hands had gone straight to Castiel’s ass, grabbing handfuls and spreading his cheeks as he helped Castiel maintain the tempo and raised his hips to meet him. When Dean traced his finger along Castiel’s stretched rim, it was too much for Castiel who cursed against Dean’s lips.
Mouthing along his roommate’s jaw, Dean groaned when Castiel straightened up, shifting his weight to his hips again and limiting Dean’s movement. Settling one hand on Dean’s ribs and the other behind him, just above his knee, Castiel rolled his hips in turbulent circles.
Dean was murmuring encouragement and lightly touching Castiel’s waist as he watched him, eyes roving from his face down to where his hard cock was bouncing repeatedly along Dean’s stomach and leaving damp smears. A moan escaped Castiel as he rhythmically moved his hips back and forth, and Dean launched into a new round of horny narration.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, you like that, Cas? You’re—fuck, so hot, such a tight little hole. Getting ready to come, baby? Feels so good, ugh, fuckin’ perfect ass. Come now and I’ll fill you up even more.”
Castiel went faster. He was so close, gliding smoothly along, grinding down into Dean, rising and falling with more urgency.
“Yes, ohhh, oh, yes, oh, mphfft—fuck,” Castiel cried out, falling slightly forward as he came hard, shooting all over Dean’s chest.
Dean was clawing at his back immediately, grabbing his ass as he drew Castiel forward and pumped rapidly into him, pounding recklessly. Castiel morphed from tense and shuddering to malleable and breathless as Dean hammered away before one last wild thrust had him spilling warmth deep inside.
“Shit, Cas. Christ, that was awesome,” Dean panted. “Remind me to bake you cupcakes every day.”
Swirling his fingers through the mess on Dean’s chest, Castiel brought them to Dean’s lips.
“Just pretend it’s icing.”
Dean smirked, licking and sucking Castiel’s fingers clean, before he smacked his ass.
“You turn around and I’ll lick it right out of the bowl,” Dean promised with a grin.